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softgrungeprophet · 2 years

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fucking hell man this issue is a lot

i definitely see exactly the kind of climate this comic is being made in. (the climate of: now) the fact that he has peter say their names (and use the phrase “say their names” itself) is like, clearly very deliberate as a choice especially in this context. kelly has made it abundantly clear that this comic is about racists killing brown people for their own gain and that that is why, specifically, they are evil. i don’t think i can say whether it’s effective or not though especially as kelly (the character) herself is white and most of the characters of color in the comic are... the dead victims EXCEPT the wrestling bros (but they too are you know, sidelined kind of horrifically). but it’s definitely very much on purpose and (mostly) not sidestepping saying the quiet part out loud which, in that way is... i mean just saying “nazi” on the page within the first issue is like... more than a lot of authors are willing to do, a lot of the time, and i’m honestly sick of all the handwaving vagueness of social issues via metaphor, so seeing him just say, Yeah this is what’s up, and this is why they’re bad, and this is bad, is like. i appreciate the candor.

but also —

i mean. jeez i guess it’s easier to show than to tell but also i feel like i should put like a tw on this or something...

but

fuck, you know? this comic really has been a mile a minute so it really conveys a lot when it has a panel of silence—a technique in a lot of the better spidey comics to be sure. but that’s not what i’m talking about here of course, though it absolutely conveys a lot in the moment.

and that is... well, i have been wondering throughout this comic if kelly is writing all of this coming from the angle of peter being jewish, especially throughout issue 4 as the villains repeatedly refer to spidey himself as a half-breed and an animal, and i think that while it’s still nebulous, likely on purpose so he doesn’t get dinged by corporate or editorial, i think it’s fair to say that he .... probably is writing with that intent? without necessarily being explicit about it for most of the comic? because this page and the beat of silence before peter loses it does make it feel like it very suddenly got very personal even though the rest of the scene plays out without saying that and mostly shifts focus to having peter’s sudden blind rage rooted in his feelings about the college students and high schoolers who were killed as part of this wulf guy’s scheme.

but i think even when it’s brushed away, tamped back down into obliqueness, the intent here was definitely... the rage here is because this is inherently personal to him in a way that the kids—even the ones he knew—just aren’t.

it’s... a lot and like i said this comic feels like it’s saying a lot of stuff out loud that a lot of other comics don’t dare to touch, and whether that works or not is hard to say but i do think that overall this is... one of the better spidey comics i’ve read, especially among the... idk what age you’d want to call it. more than just the modern age like specifically the past ten years.

idk. idk.

it takes big swings, some of them miss, some of them hit really hard, and it feels like it has a lot more teeth than some of the more recent comics. and i can appreciate teeth.

HMM

at the end now though and I’m not sure about this

I mean

I get what he’s going for in that it’s still about genetic purity and there are XYZ supremacy (japanese, hindu etc) groups that often function in similar ways as aryan supremacy, but as a twist in the context i’m not sure if it’s effective? or, i guess... thoughtful? effectively thought through? Especially coming on the tails of an issue with the scene above. it feels potentially shortsighted. but it DOES explain all the stuff about “mongrels” and “half-breeds” (though i still am not entirely sure why they were calling peter that too?)

(sorry, edit like 9 months later: i realized this was specifically referring to the Holocaust and children from mixed marriage; i hadn't connected that while I was reading it, but obviously of course that's what it is, and it's clear that what Kelly is doing is, by having Zemo refer to Peter as a mongrel, directly implying, again, the unspoken part which is that Peter is Jewish.)

UGH NO DON’T SAVE HIM

STAB HIM

i mean i know peter would never do that in an official marvel comic cause they’d never let him but he doesn’t have to SAVE the man who just pulled the fucking holocaust gold fillings line like 10 minutes ago, like there are other ways to have the villain not die so other writers can use him you know????

okay spider monster is pretty good, i GUESS, i always love peter giving into his baser instincts and also turning into a horrible murder machine but man man i’m not sure how i feeeeel about this but i guess i can see why the author needed them to be both alive in the same general location... still... after that line i don’t think peter should have done anything to save him. there’s a difference between not killing someone and like actively saving them you know? but this shows up again and again in comics and it is an act of deliberation but still it rubs me the wrong way

i thiiink i’d like to check out savage spider-man though cause... i DO think this comic is good so the continuaton is probably... also good?

#nadia reads comics #i'm sure jewish and black readers specifically could say a lot more incisive and insightful things as well #about this comic and the swings it takes and whether things like this scene or the ''say their names'' dialogue works or not #i actually read the first 2 issues of this after seeing traincat recommend it on twitter and then bought it myself without finishing it #cause the first two issues sold me. i don't regret it. like i said i think this is one of the more solid modern comics i have read #really wish they had not brought the word ''savage'' into the titling though

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call-me-aesthetic · 3 years

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If Twisted Wonderland was an American Public School

WARNING: There are some slight sensitive topics that are featured in here! Reader discretion is advised!

Part 2 can be found here

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts:

- That one preppy girl who takes all honors and AP classes 😑

- Wants everyone to know that he’s becoming a doctor one day for his strict parents or he’ll dishonor the family

- Reminds the teacher about homework, knowing well that he’ll get slander for it

- Complains about how he got a 90 on his test or a B on his report card, a try hard much?

- Wears a cardigan with thicc but cute glasses since he’s one of those people with can’t see shit on the board so he has to move to the front of the class

Ace Trappola:

- The SoundCloud rapper, that’s it

- “Wanna listen to my mixtape? It’s pretty fire, my guy.” 😩🔥

- You will not miss him BLASTING out some song on his Bluetooth speaker, that shit be echoing through the hallways

- Tells you to stop what you’re doing only for him to either sing horribly or do a backflip, thinking that he’s so cool

- Wears a Supreme jacket with AirPods and waves on his head

Deuce Spade:

- Assuming that he’s still a delinquent, he’s that kid with the most fucked up school record

- Not much of a bully but will still talk shit to your face without caring, might even throw stuff at you during a lesson and you would be the one getting in trouble instead of him 🗿

- If he ever gets mad, it would be overdramatic like kicking the desks, punching the lockers, or walking out of the classroom unannounced and everyone would look at each other wondering wtf happened

- Covers the entire desks with drawings of skulls and those “s” if you know what I mean

- Wears Champion hoodies, wants you to know that he’s broke and rich at the same time

Trey Clover:

- The guy that’s not really popular but everyone knows him since he’s in all their classes

- Most people might have a crush on him because he’s REALLY nice 😳👉👈

- Gives off “older brother” vibes based on the way he looks and acts, like offering you a ride home if you beg ask nicely

- Secretly bakes creme brulee but doesn’t want to mess with the flow so he sticks to the status quo

- Wears the school’s hoodie just because he thinks it looks good on him, and the fact that he doesn’t know what else to wear

Cater Diamond:

- Hot Cheetos girl 🥵

- Has a whole buffet of food in his backpack and will not hesitate to eat them during a lesson, no sharing either sorry

- Excuses himself to the bathroom or full on skips class just to film a Tiktok

- Has about 100 followers on Instagram Magicam and brags about how he’s famous

- Wears a Thrasher hoodie with large hoop earrings and his hair in a bun

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar:

- The kid who flunked their freshman year that also sort of vibes with new classmates

- Always gets mistaken as a teacher by people since he looks and sounds old

- Knows the lessons but still fails them anyways, didn’t really give a damn either 🙄

- Captain of every sports club you can think of, never actually plays but has a lot of knowledge on them

- Wears the school’s letterman from years ago since it used to be his brother’s and that he’s too lazy to buy a new one

Ruggie Bucchi:

- That one kid who NEVER has money for the book fair or any other school event

- Always has to ask his classmates for some cash

- If he somehow does, then he’s one of those kids who buys Diary of the Wimpy Kid or the World Record books

- If he’s feeling cheap, he’ll buy the “cool stuff” like the chocolate scented calculator or fruit snacks 😭

- Wears oversized hoodies and basketball shorts that are clearly hand-me-downs

Jack Howl:

- That one athletic kid who’s both scary good and competitive when it comes to school games like football or soccer

- Literally the best player on his team and without him, they’re trash as hell 💀

- Tries his absolute best to support his teammates without yelling at them for how dumb they are

- “KICK THE FUCKING BALL! DO YOUR LEGS EVEN WORK?!”

- Wears the school’s jersey just to show off his “school spirit”

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto:

- The kid who sell snacks for “charity” but everyone knows he’s keeping the money to himself

- If you don’t have cash or try to negotiate with him, the only thing he’ll do is raise the price up

- “What do you mean you don’t have ten bucks? I can see it in your pocket.”

- Just bring nothing with you, he’ll doing anything to steal your stuff 🤭

- Wears a collar shirt with a tie and khakis that have pockets to keep his glasses and money in

Jade Leech:

- The kid who puts on a goody two shoes facade but is actually a stoner

- Only does “safe” drugs like vape but occasionally smokes weed, mostly in the bathroom or behind the school 🌬

- Can play it off and hide the scent when he’s high, teachers never suspect anything from him

- No one really cares to stop him unless he gets caught or something idk

- Wears clothing that either makes him look like a businessman or a junky, there’s nothing in between

Floyd Leech:

- The kid that’s plays basketball or volleyball just because he’s hella tall, and is actually good at the sports but doesn’t put much effort into them

- Always stays behind after gym, even though the teacher tries to make him leave for his next class 😬

- “I swear after this one shot, I’ll go to class.” *He never made that shot*

- Will jump you no matter who or where you are, and will get angry if you step on his new shoes

- Wears the jersey of any famous team with the latest pair of Jordan sneakers

Scarabia

Kalim Al Asim:

- VSCO girl at best, don’t lie to me now 🤡

- The only words he knows are “And I oop– sksksk.” and “Save the turtles.”

- Walks during a track meet while everyone else is running and sweating hard, the teacher doesn’t care either

- Doesn’t really do anything in gym but talks to his classmates and stands near the water fountain to refill his Hydro flask

- Wears tie dye shirts with cute scrunchies

Jamil Viper:

- That one quiet kid who everybody thinks is a serial killer but he’s actually not, I swear

- He just wants school to be over and spend the rest of his summer relaxing 😔

- Although he shouldn’t abuse his “power,” he‘ll move his hands in his pockets or backpack to make it look like he’s about to pull a weapon out.

- “Chill, I’m just grabbing a pencil.” *Everyone in the class started crying*

- Wears dark colored hoodies that intimidates people but are actually comfy

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit:

- The baddie popular girl 😌💅✨

- Arrives to school late with a Starbucks in hand from his local Target

- Fixes himself every 5 seconds like reapplying his lipgloss or spraying Bath and Body Works cherry blossom perfume

- Uses acrylic nails and long hair extensions as weapons during a cat fight

- Wears a crop top with ripped jeans and those clout sunglasses

Rook Hunt:

- That creepy guy in the hallways who tries to get your attention, even if you don’t know him

- Scares people when he says, “Ayo, where my hug at?” 🥶💯

- Uses at least 10 cans of Axe body spray a week after gym class, which stinks up the locker rooms

- Waves at you if he passes your class, even walking into the room just to say hi

- Wears literally anything but always include a hat

Epel Felmier:

- The artist girl who just wants to be alone 🧑‍🎨

- Purposely draws in front of you but pretends like you’re not looking

- If you complement him, he’ll just brush it off and proceeds to diss himself

- “Thanks but I’m not THAT good at drawing, teehee.” *Insert Radio Rebel face*

- Wears a hoodie or a cardigan with big pockets to put his art supplies in

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud:

- I don’t even need to tell you who he is, y’all already know ahaha 🥴

- Sneaks a whole PlayStation in his backpack so he can play with it during lunch

- Is on his phone 24/7 even in class to the point where teachers don’t care anymore

- Tries to get people into anime but only to little success

- Wears a shirt of any anime character or that damn ahegao hoodie, girl bye

Ortho Shroud:

- The nerdy kid who’s known for destroying others at many games

- Plays classics like D&D, Yugioh, Pokémon, the whole shabang

- Daily Beyblade battles during recess with everyone surrounding him, the menacing aura radiates off of him

- Will steal your things if you lose to him but gives it back a week later cuz he’s sweet 🥰

- Wears light up Sketchers shoes and those Minecraft shirts you find at Old Navy

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia:

- The theatre kid who also goes to band practice, change my mind 👁👄👁

- Takes his role seriously when it comes to school plays and concerts, even if he gets casted as a damn tree or doesn’t go solo

- Remembers the songs and their lyrics to any musical you name, a really good singer at that too

- Plays almost every instrument, you definitely know this since you can hear him down the hallways during a test

- Wears a white button up shirt, black pants with fancy dress shoes, and top it all off with a fricking Rolex watch

Lilia Vanrouge:

- The weird guy who pranks people and vandalizes school property in every way possible

- If you ever get a textbook with a message that tells you to go to a certain page only for you to found a picture of a dick, yeah that was him 😒

- When using a Chromebook, he’ll leave a tab open on YouTube so when the next person uses it, pray that your ears will still work by tomorrow

- During lunch, he is a literal DEMON that mixes milk with chicken nuggets together and having the audacity to eat it too

- Wears an oversized raincoat or a windbreaker but idk wtf kind of things he has hiding underneath

Silver:

- That guy in class who consumes Monster energy drinks and falls asleep 99% of the time but somehow manages to pass the class 🤷

- Whenever he’s awake, he’ll talk to the teachers since he’s basically friends with them for some reason

- Writes his name out of boredom on any desk you sit on but in different places, sometimes around the corners or the sides

- Has a sixth sense because he’ll wake up if you try to draw on his face and if you did get something on him, it’s on sight

- Wears those colorful hoodies that zips all the way up to cover his face with a matching backpack, it’s pretty cool ngl

Sebek Zigvolt:

- That kid who literally knows everything about historical wars and will show it off during class

- Also has knowledge on weaponry, which has people questioning him but he’s just very dedicated on serving his country and people

- Knows how to fight and defend himself from a bitch since he spent his summer at a military boot camp, put respect on my man’s name 😤

- Honestly a great partner for a group project, actually does the given work but not the whole thing for you

- Wears anything that has camo pattern and chunky combat boots

I only made this because me and my friends were talking about our school memories so yeah. This is based from my experience so they might not be exactly accurate. Might even be a part two if you want.

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tooweirdforyou · 3 years

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The OP Boys & Their Personal Dirty Secrets

A/N : just a little something I thought of :> this might not make sense but it’s late and I want to post something- it’s only six of the guys. LOOK IDK OKAY I JUST WANTED TO POST SMTH-

Warning : nsfw / suggestive themes ahead ! Pretty short. Most of these are masturbation though, if that makes sense? >.>

Summary : just a few of the boys and their dirty secrets they have.

Ace

It’s no secret that Ace is one for temperature play, but how he uses it?

His breath hitches ever so slightly at the cool ice that glides across his toned chest, his fingertips wrapped around the quickly melting cube.

Ace drags it along his skin, bringing it down towards his hard member, his other hand wrapped tightly around the base of his cock.

“A-Ah..”

A shallow exhale escaped his breath as he rubs the smaller ice around his tip, loving the feel of the cold, melting ice on top.

Hopefully, Ace remembered to refill the ice cube trays for Thatch before he stole the ice.

But as much as this embarrassed him to do this, Ace couldn’t stop the pleasuring feel sent through him as he took another ice cube and rubbed it around his throbbing cock, his other hand giving himself slow pumps.

Ace was definitely going to do this more often.

Sabo

Sabo is a dominant one that loves to work with his hands, but he often thinks about bondage and toys.

Sabo let out a little chuckle as he slipped a little pant.

Indeed a little embarrassed at what he had done, he had to admit the pleasuring feel it gave when he denied himself any orgasm.

Tightened around the base of his cock was a ring that was successful in denying him any sense of free will to cum.

Along with the ring, Sabo had tied himself up, a collar around his neck, with his wrists bound together and mini wireless vibrators strapped to his buds and his tip.

Now, Sabo could easily escape out of these bounds but where was the fun in that?

Sabo was thoroughly enjoying this restriction he gave himself and instead imagined what it was like to have his partner in bondage. He would’ve nearly ejaculated at the mere imagination of it.

As the loud vibrations filled the air, Sabo brought down his tied wrists, his hands gripping the long fleshlight, towards his member and began to quickly thrust into it, breathy moans escaping his lips.

In a swift movement, he also took off the ring to fully allow him to cum, which he soon did.

Law

Law won’t admit it, but he’s into the dressing up kink, also known as “cosplaying”.

His hat tossed aside and the slightest flush spread across his cheeks, Law bit his lip in attempt to keep his breathy groans and pants to a minimum.

In his usual doctor’s coat, Law was sprawled over his chair in front of his desk, leaning back as he did so.

His legs wide and his pants lowered just enough to expose his throbbing member, aching to be touched.

As he finally allowed himself the smallest bit of pleasure, his fingers brushing against his cock, his eyes shut to let his imagination run over his mind. Images of you in a sexy nurse’s outfit was seen.

In a skin tight, thigh length, white pencil skirt, allowin him a beautiful sight of your legs. A blue button up blouse with the top few unbuttoned, to let him see your cleavage and exposed bra that you chose that morning, especially for him, and the typical white adorned hat on top, your curvy figure peering behind him.

Seductively whispering into his ear, he imagined his hands that made their way around his base were yours, teasing him.

“Seems as if you had a stressful day, doctor Trafalgar Law.. perhaps I should assist you to relieve your stress.”

On a particular day, he might even imagine you in a sexy kunoichi outfit, just to satisfy his love for ninjas—

Luffy

Luffy isn’t one to be embarrassed but he’d never, EVER confess to masturbating in secret, when he’s alone.

This is one of the few lewd things Luffy does and that he’s aware of what it actually is. The first time he did it, he was so embarrassed about it but it felt so good, he couldn’t wait to do it again.

It eventually became a small habit, something he only did if he was sure he was alone. Or at least be sure that everyone else was asleep and wouldn’t sneak into the bathroom at the moment.

Each time would be just as pleasurable as the last, the same routine as before.

Luffy would sit in the bathroom alone, shirt raised and tucked under his chin and his shorts lowered down to his ankles, and it wouldn’t take long for his member to become erect.

He’d start out slow, rubbing his thumb carefully over the tip and letting him take his time before eventually picking up his pace.

What he loved was that he obviously could stretch himself doing this, gripping his cock and stretching it a bit longer was kind of satisfying whenever he pumped himself.

If any of the guys or even girls knocked on the door, Luffy would panic and fix his clothes, clearly irritated he couldn’t finish off but mostly just worried that he’d be caught.

Luffy wasn’t one that was very good at lying or keeping secrets, but he was always fortunate enough that his crewmates never questioned what he was doing, since all they wanted was to just use the restroom.

Sanji

Sanji is the perverted type, clearly, so it’s no secret when he’s alone in his room, his hands clutching stolen lingerie, pressing it against his nose.

Unable to help himself, Sanji grunts out once more as his hand, wrapping a laced panty around his member, continues to pump himself quickly.

Spread in front of him were various magazines, most of it being latest issues of the swimsuit catalogue, with many beautiful lady models in different swimwear.

In his other hand, brought up to his nose, is another set of panties as he sniffed the heavenly sweet smell radiating off of them.

Plentiful moans escaped Sanji’s lips as he continues to thrust up into his closed hand, his imagination allowing him to think of it as something else.

Not long later, a pleasurably loud moan was heard as he quickly spurted his cum from his twitching cock, the warm liquid spreading over the magazines laid out in front of him, also filling the laced panties that were around him.

Sanji bit his lip, panting as he slowly came down from his high and relaxed a bit, clutching the undergarments closer to his chest, admiring the beautiful colors and feel, along with the undeniable scent that these belonged to.

Zoro

Zoro, also a dominant type, often wonders what it’s like to be submissive for once. He secretly dreams what it’s like to be told in his place.

Zoro often let his imagination run wild. He’d never admit to it though, especially admitting to what he does in his weight room up in the crows nest.

He’d always double check the locked latch on the door that led to the main deck, but once he was sure he wouldn’t be disturbed, he relieved himself.

If he was ever caught, he’d nearly die of embarrassment but he loved what he did.

Zoro was the dominant type. He loves the control but sometimes, he’d wonder what it’d feel like if he was the one needed to be tamed. To be controlled roughly.

He often thought about using his own swords as a method of.. helping himself in the thought of being dominated but being too embarrassed by the thought of it quickly denied him to do so.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t improvise. Instead of his swords, he often used his bo staffs and other equipment he had.

And so here he was, biting his lip as he withheld the smallest groan of pleasure, a dark blush coating his cheeks as he felt the long stick inserting into him.

It wasn’t that he dreamt of being gay or pegged or anything, he just wanted to experience it for the first time, okay? As if he had to be punished, and he’d never admit it, but it felt incredible.

It was most definitely a weird and bit painful feeling but the slow insertions he made in and out of himself with the bo staffs quickly enveloped some pleasure into him as he did it a bit faster.

There were some weird angles but Zoro made it work and with his other hand free to pump his aching cock begging to be touched, he wasted no time to cum right onto the carpet in the center of the room.

His pants can be heard as he thought back on what he just did and how it felt and honestly? He couldn’t wait to do it again eventually.

Only when he truly felt stressed or just felt like being submissive and fucked again.

A/N : y’all I’m feeling so lazy but so giddy lately and I’m sorry about this post but I literally have been so lazy to write anything- also DUB FOR KUROKO NO BASKET? AAAAAAAHHHH OMGGGG!! Who are your fav character in KnB? :0 aside from Kuroko .-. :))!!

Also did each person gradually get longer? The length of their parts I mean-

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stanknotstark · 3 years

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Nails ‘n Spa

So I have a REALLY hard time saying no to people. As I’ve grown I’ve gotten better about it but usually end up saying sorry profusely after I say no. Idk i’m very much a people pleaser so i have a hard time making my own decisions too. So this is where this came from :P

“Hey, would you like to go on a run with me?” Steve asked you.

“Uh....” You knew Steve woke at the ass crack of dawn and honestly you loved sleeping in but you really didn’t want to hurt his feelings and you don’t know how to say no, it’s just never been apart of your vocabulary since you’re a people pleaser. “Ya....I’d love to.” You smiled at Steve.

“Liar.” Loki said once Steve had left the kitchen and it was just you two.

You sighed and laid your head on your arms with a groan.

“I know, I don’t, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.”

“You need to learn to say no, your job isn’t to please everyone.” Loki frowned at you, sipping on his tea, walking up to you he hummed.

“Go get dressed, something comfortable, if you wear pants make sure the legs can be rolled up and wear a short sleeve shirt or tank top. Also wear flips flops or sandals where you toes will be out in the open.”

You looked up at Loki confused but said, “Yes, sir!”

~~~~

You and Loki were making your way down a street when he stopped in front of a nail salon, you walking so close to him you almost ran straight into him.

“We’re here.” He said, opening the door to the salon. You raised your eyebrows at him but went inside.

The minute Loki stepped inside all the women started talking to him.

“Mr. Loki! Mr. Loki, it’s so good to see you, how are you?” One Vietnamese woman said coming up to you both, her accent strong but not so strong you couldn’t tell what she was saying. Smiling, she shook Loki’s hand, then turned to look at you and shake your hand too. “This your girlfriend?”

“Something like that.” Loki said smiling at her too.

“I’ll get my usual, she would like a mani and pedi,” Loki looked down to you, “Go pick a color, sweetheart.”

You swallowed, you had a crush on the God but right now he was acting as if you were a couple and you were happy about it, of course, but at the same time you thought your heart was going to burst out and run away at all this...affection.

“Ya, ok.” You said making your way to the wall of polish. Finally, you decided on a shimmering gold and the lady that had welcomed you lead you to a massage chair next to Loki where you both rolled your pants up and stuck your feet into the warm water.

Luckily no one else was at the salon so you and Loki were able to talk more freely.

“Loki I appreciate this and all but why did you bring me to a nail salon?”

Loki smirked and turned to look at you from his chair.

“I think you’ll realize in due time, darling.”

You pouted but he didn’t say anything more so you shrugged and decided to enjoy yourself, it had been months since you had splurged on yourself like this anyways.

The Vietnamese woman came back with a laminated sheet and gave it to you.

“Would you like the Ice Dancer pedicure, it’s very nice, especially great for your legs and relaxing them?”

You looked at all the choices there were only 5 but the Ice Dancer was the most expensive. Thinking on it you hadn’t brought your wallet....

“Loki, I don’t have my wallet, and even if I did I don’t have the money to pay you back right now...”

“Don’t worry about that, I’ve got it covered.”

“No Lok-”

“I’ve got it, darling,” Loki frowned, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the massage chair, “Please.”

You swallowed and looked back down at the choices.

“I’ll take the regular.”

“No, she’ll take the Ice Dancer, Duyen.”

“I-”

Loki and the woman looked at you expectedly, Loki’s brow raised in question, a challenging look in his eye. You swallowed and looked at Duyen. “Ya, I’ll take the Ice Dancer.” You said looking down to your hands and fiddling with them to avoid looking at Loki. What you didn’t see was the disappointment on his face, luckily.

How were you gonna pay him back, you mani and pedi would surely cost over $100 and that would be a little over 25% of what you made bi-weekly. You assumed Loki could see the guilt chewing you up inside so he placed a hand on yours, causing you to look up at him.

“You could have said no.”

“I- Loki I can’t.”

“Yes you can, if you don’t want it say no.”

You bit your lip but nodded, not that you were going to say no though.

Both you and Loki sat back and enjoyed the pedicure the two Vietnamese women gave you, you both sharing small talk here and there but mostly enjoying the massage the women gave your legs. When it came to nail polish time, you saw Loki getting black. You smiled, it suited him.

“I like black on you. You know most men would never agree to doing this or getting a clear polish.” You said admiring how the black really brought his pale skin out.

“I am not most men.”

“That you are not.” You said, blushing when Loki smirked at you.

Next you were both seated at desks so they could do your manicure. It had started out great and then the woman handling your nails started trying to push choices on you. When she pulled out fake nails your eyes grew wide and you panicked. You REALLY didn’t like long nails, you played the violin and couldn’t play if you had fake nails on but you’d have to tell her no. Through all your panic you didn’t see Loki not outright staring at you but smirking at your internal turmoil.

“Uh!” The woman had placed the fake nail on yours but looked up at you, “I’m so so sorry I uh play violin I can’t have long nails, I’m really sorry!”

The woman smiled and nodded, pulling your hand up so you both could look at the nails.

“Square?” the woman asked.

Swallowing, you squirmed in your seat. You just wanted them to be plain, rounded. Looking to Loki for help he looked at you but didn’t say anything to help. Taking in a deep breath you looked at the woman again.

“Uh, no, could you make them round?” the fear going through your body finally relaxed as you got out your words. To be honest you really weren’t used to asking for what you wanted either, you were very much a people pleaser.

“Ok!” The woman said, then pulled out a bunch of supplies which you realized was meant for gel or shellac nails. Which of course you didn’t want. At this point you were gonna be in tears soon, you really hated saying no.

Thankfully, Loki stepped in, leaning over into your space he looked at what was going on and said, “I think she would prefer just the polish, no gel today.” Loki glanced at you and winked.

Suddenly it hit you like a freight train. Loki was forcing you to get comfortable saying no. While it was a sweet gesture it was very nerve wrecking so you promised you’d get him back somehow. For now you’d be happy about him caring though.

Thankfully the rest of the trip went without a hitch or you having to say no. Ready to get back to the tower you both walked out of the salon and headed towards the tower.

“Thanks.” You said looked down at the ground, counting the cracks in the sidewalk as you walked. Feeling something brush your hand, you watched as Loki took your hand in his, but when you looked up he was looking forward as if it wasn’t happening. After you had walked most of the way back Loki finally spoke.

“I don’t want you to get into a bad situation simply because you don’t want to hurt someone’s feelings by saying no.”

Reaching the edge of the tower you both stopped and looked at each other, people walking past you but ignoring you both,

“I-” You looked at your locked hands, “Unfortunately I’ve been in plenty of bad situations because of this but I’ll try harder for you.” You said, looking him in the eyes, determined. Loki looked at you, no emotion on his face, then gave a small smile.

“Good, I expect nothing less than your best.”

~~~~

“Kid! You wanna help Bruce and me blow up something?” Tony asked you excitedly. You looked at Loki who you sat next to on the couch and he raised an eyebrow at you. That sounded extremely dangerous so you looked back at Tony and smiled sadly, “No, Tony, I’m good.”

Tony shrugged, “Alright, have fun then love birds!” Tony yelled as he ran down the stairs towards his lab.

You felt Loki’s fingers grab your chin and make you look at him. His eyes on your lips.

“Good girl.”

Your heart fluttered, trying to focus on his eyes but you kept glancing at his lips. Finally, Loki kissed you. When he pulled back you still had your eyes closed and said, “I really need to say no more often.”

Loki chuckled then caught your lips again.

#loki x reader #how to say no #one shot #loki odinson #ive decided good loki is loki odinson #bad loki or angsty is loki laufeyson #tag wise that is #my writing #loki #fluff

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bisexualdaemon · 3 years

Text

something missing | feysand oneshot

a/n: oh hello! idk this just kind of....happened? it came upon me unexpectedly. I’m rereading ACOFAS and it’s snowing outside so...here’s some sugar-coated fluff laced with filth for this sinday :)

warnings: 3.3k of fluffy smut and smutty fluff

Hmmm. Feyre worried the paint brush stuck between her lips with her teeth. There was something missing from the painting. Frost and Starlight, she had called it in her mind walking through the Palace of Thread and Jewels that day before Solstice. Now, weeks later, she clung to the buzz of the early chill of winter, wanted to remember the bustling life that had turned scarce in the city.

It was now bitterly cold—according to Mor, colder than it had been in Velaris in decades. The streets were mostly empty, quiet except for the bundled shuffling of people coming and going but rarely standing for too long. Feyre could hear the wind beating at the locked gallery door, could feel the cold pushing against the magic of her floating flames. The only thing keeping her from freezing to death in the dimming light of the Rainbow.

Even the Rainbow had been less alive lately, artists only leaving their studios for occasional supplies. The musicians had taken to giving little salon concerts. Only the most desperate had remained busking outside. Feyre had persuaded Rhys into magicking some coins into their open instrument cases, enough to keep them out of the cold for awhile.

She shook her head and refocused on the swirls of color in front of her, the painting that might have been finished if she weren’t so set on the details of it. What’s missing?

I don��t know, but I know what I’m missing. Feyre smiled involuntarily, his purr down the bond snaking its way down her spine.

Incorrigible. Where have you been? If you went someplace warm without me, I’m staying at the gallery and you can sleep alone in our cold bed with none of what you’ve been missing.

Rhys chuckled. On the contrary, my love. I was in the Steppes with Az, settling a few more of the descenters down. I’ve been freezing my balls off all day.

Feyre shivered just thinking about how cold the war camps must be, the rows of tents barely standing up to the winds. But she couldn’t resist the door he’d left open. Poor Illyrian baby, so afraid of losing something important to a little cold spell.

He sent a rude gesture down the bond and Feyre smirked, taking the paint brush from her mouth to shove into the messy bun on top of her head. She paused halfway when her mating ring caught one of the faelights behind her, setting the brilliant sapphire glittering. Ah, that’s what’s missing.

She dipped her brush in a tiny bit of white paint and leaned into the canvas, dabbing little specks here and there, in every window in her frozen Palace. When she sat back, the effect set her eyes sparkling. The blues and reds and greens of her scene turned into glittering sapphires and rubies and emeralds. The jewels the Palace was famous for leaped off the canvas and twinkled behind the glass, worthy of the astonishment she had painted in the faces walking past.

Beautiful, he breathed, seeing the painting through her eyes. Lately, she had been leaving her mind open to him when she painted. He didn’t pry often, but she found she wanted to share a little of her process with him. Even if she couldn’t talk about some of her feelings, some of the things they left in the darkness, she could show him here in the quiet of the gallery at night.

Feyre felt him before even the shadows could react to his winnowing. Rhys grazed the skin at the edge of her sweater, just below her neck. Shivers ran down her spine again, but not because of the cold. Her nipples hardened in response to his touch, a kindling warming low in her abdomen.

“Hello, Feyre darling.”

His solid presence relaxed her, the warmth of him radiating into her back. She exhaled and leaned into him as his hands left her neck to wander down her front, skillfully avoiding the hardened peaks that reached for him. Even with the stool, he still towered over her, giving him enough room to rest his chin on top of that messy bun.

“Gods, I missed you,” he inhaled, breathing her scent, now eternally mixed with paint, “the Illyrians are such bastards when they’re being obstinate.”

“What did you and Az have to do?” Feyre ran soothing fingers up and down his arms still covered in Illyrian leathers.

“Nothing too taxing, just some strong words and a demonstration.” She could feel him tense up, even as his wandering hands caressed her sides, trying to find the hem of her sweater.

“Did you kill anyone?” Such a casual question, but even with the veil of sarcasm he knew she would want a serious answer.

“No, but let’s just say a couple of their captains won’t be flying anytime soon.” He let some of the tension he always carried after bad days melt away as he curved into her, moving to pepper her neck with sloppy kisses.

“Rhys,” she moaned, combing her fingers through his hair that was still damp from the Illyrian snow. “Let me clean up and then you can ravish me at home all you like.”

His teeth grazed her earlobe and she bent her head sideways giving him more room. Just as his fingers finally found that hem of her sweater. Snow-cold fingers tickled the skin just above her leggings. Feyre yelped and twisted on her stool, finally turning to face him fully. His eyes were pure violet fire, taking in every inch of her, from her wild hair to her booted feet. His chest raised and lowered quicker with each passing second, the bulge in his pants evidence of his mirrored desire. She bit her lip. And he snapped.

Fuck the house, he purred down the bond. His mouth collided with hers as strong hands lifted her from the stool. She wrapped her legs around his waist, careful to avoid his sensitive wings. His pouty lips devoured hers, a wild moan escaping him as he tugged at her bottom lip. Feyre could sense him reaching with his magic, trying to find some place to put her down so he could properly have his way with her. Out here it would be the wall between the hung paintings or the cold floor. She knew he was weighing those two options.

There’s a table in the back room, she panted, clawing at his mental walls with the promise of what was to come. If she was honest, she wouldn’t have minded the wall, but the paintings were precious and she knew they wouldn’t be hanging for very long. He carried her, his mouth still firmly pressed against hers. She shifted her head and opened fully for him, inviting him into her mouth with a flick of her tongue against his. He tasted like citrus kissed with the bitter tang of whiskey, left over from the drink he’d had to take the edge off the demonstration earlier.

When he kicked open the back room door, Feyre’s floating firelight followed them, immediately stoking and warming the space.

You’re getting better at that. His praise was like gasoline on that kindling inside of her, kicking up a blazing fire that sang through her blood, through her bones. He deposited her on the worktable, only taking a second to notice the sharp scent of paint and the supplies that littered the space behind her. His lips curled, this reminds me of the cabin. Remember how messy it was?

“It was our mating,” she answered out loud, “I remember every second of that day.” I can still feel it here, Feyre took his hand and guided it under her sweater to press against her panting heart. He stepped closer to rest his brow against hers, dragging a finger down her cheek. It was a second before his soft smile went devilish, another second before she felt the wet streak where his finger had been.

He wiggled a cerulean-tipped finger at her.

“Rhysand!”

He tipped his head back and roared with laughter as she slapped at his leather-clad chest. The closest jar to her was a cotton candy pink. She snapped her fingers and his leathers disappeared, leaving a perfectly sculpted tan chest for her to draw a big heart on with her fingers.

Hmpf. Turnabout is fair play. The playful gleam in his eye sparkled as he snapped his fingers and her clothes just...disappeared. She quirked an eyebrow, I hope you’re giving those back before we leave. A low growl rumbled beneath her fingers still toying with his chest.

I’ll take it under advisement. You might have to beg me. A wry smile formed on his lips as he dipped that same cerulean finger into the pink paint and swirled it between her breasts, a trail of purple from her throat to her belly button. Feyre exhaled heavily and leaned back on her hands, scattering some charcoal pencils. They echoed in the cold space when they clattered to the floor but she didn’t care. She was naked and Rhys was not. Her legs spread a little wider against the edge of the table, putting herself on display for him.

“Wicked, beautiful creature.” His hot breath ricocheted off her chest where his paint marks were quickly drying. It was a struggle to keep from moaning at the touch of his fingers toying with the inside of her spread thighs, dangerously close to the liquid fire pooling between her legs. He grinned at her restraint, the muscles dancing beneath her skin. “What do you wish of me, High Lady?”

“I wish…” she tilted her head back in a slow roll, “I wish…” When her eyes met his again, their intensity burned anew. “I wish for you to take me like you did that first time,” snapping her fingers to rid him of the last of his clothes, “no holding back.”

His knees shook like a newborn foal at the command in her words. He kneeled before her on those tattoos he’d had as a reminder for centuries. I will bow before no one and nothing but my crown. The crown he shared with her. He bowed now, as he had before, as he would many, many more times before they were through with this life. The most powerful High Lord in history sent to his knees by his Queen.

He forced her thighs even wider to accommodate his broad shoulders between her knees. His Fae eyesight didn’t miss the way her stomach muscles clenched as he played with the sensitive skin at her hips, his fingers making a slow path to her spread thighs. He cupped the back of her knees and quickly pulled her closer to his waiting mouth.

Her yelp turned to a deep moan when he finally tasted her. Fingers immediately weaved into his hair as her back arched off the table. Gods, you taste like honey. You’re so wet for me, Feyre.

She didn’t have any coherent words to send back to him, just waves of pleasure licking down the mental bridge between them. He suckled at her folds, drank from her, his holy font atop his only sacred altar. She writhed beneath his fingers moving over her warmed skin, let out a groan so deep he felt it vibrate against his face when he found her peaked nipples swollen and screaming for him. He felt her toes curl against his back, stroking his wings in places that made him moan into her.

It was the last swirl of his tongue, a figure-eight pattern from her entrance to that bundle of nerves at the apex of her folds that finally sent her chanting his name over the edge. She wasn’t sure if it was out loud, but she knew he heard her either way. His wings flared proudly, knocking over a row of easels propped against the side wall, but he couldn’t hear the noise over her heartbeat pounding across the bond.

The force of her climax pushed her into a sitting position, her fingers still curled in his hair holding his head against her as he stroked his tongue with every wave of pleasure. Even when she was spent, her thighs trembling over his shoulders, she couldn’t neglect him. Her fingers combed through his hair and snaked down his back, busying themselves with the grooves of his wings as he sucked a mark into the inside of her thigh. She made to release him, allow him off his knees, but he growled.

Don’t stop.

The corners of her mouth curled upward. Is it truly like stroking you...elsewhere?

Well, Feyre darling, how do you feel when I stroke that one spot near the base of your left wing?

She clenched her thighs around his head at the thought. Point taken.

He stretched his wing in encouragement. She followed his lead, splaying her hands across the membranous skin, tracing his scars. The feeling was, well he couldn’t quite think straight. Pleasure was too tame a word to describe the white-hot fire that licked his wings every time she ran her fingers over the spines, the scars, the muscles that purred and loosened for her. She pressed in at the space between the primary spine and the muscles in his back. He moaned so loud the paint jars rippled.

Mother above, stop.

It’s poor form to blaspheme in such a compromising position. Feyre grinned like a cat about to pounce on its prey. This was what she had been waiting for.

Feyre Cauldron-Blessed would know. He sucked in a breath. Her hands hadn’t moved. If you don’t stop, I’m going to spill a different kind of paint on this floor and ruin all our fun.

Such a messy Illyrian brute. But she let him go, let him rise from between her thighs and stand. He was at full attention, wings spread wide to prolong the feeling of her fingers on the sensitive skin. Even now, after almost a year with him, she still marveled that this thing between them was real. That she was his and he was hers. My mate.

She reached for him again, low. It was his turn to chant her name.

Rhys caught her wrists, turning her hands over. He pressed a kiss to each palm. I’m plenty primed, my love.

Feyre wrapped her legs around his waist, forcing him closer, so close to where she wanted him. She knew he liked this position, liked to watch her respond to him. He gripped her hips and positioned himself right at the precipice, took a breath. And pushed in to the hilt.

Their collective moans shook the little back room, shadows gathering against the walls. Rhys’s eyes were fathomless pools of violet, boring into her very soul. He opened his mind fully to her and saw herself through his eyes, felt the love and the unending desire for her, tasted herself on his tongue.

I love you. His voice clanged through her, flipping that light switch that lived deep inside of her, that little piece of Day linked to moments of pure joy. Her skin began to glow, only growing brighter when he moved within her. Slow strokes at first, deep inside. Shadows began to lick at her light, snaking against her responsive skin, the contrast only making her shine brighter.

His thrusts quickened, control flickering with his hips. The hands that gripped her were little more than wisps of darkness, but she could feel his claws lengthening. Feyre reached back to grip the table, but instead knocked over a full jar of paint, splashing green into her hair, onto her skin.

She laughed, tightening around him. The snarl he released shook her very center, pummeling the dam that he was determined to break for a second time tonight. She sent paint flying through the air on a breeze, landing squarely on his chest like a bullseye on a dart board. Her giggle sent his shadows skittering.

Laughing at a male in the throes of pleasure is unbecoming of a High Lady, he panted down the bond.

And how would you know? There’s never been a High Lady before me. Her eyes threatened another laugh until he hauled her leg off the table and shifted his hips. Her eyes rolled back. The floating fire around them surged with her answering moans, sweat beading on both of their brows.

His hips stuttered. He was close. Feyre reached out and ran a hand down the open gates of his mind. Rhysand, she purred.

He looked at her, his pupils narrowing, that beast of his barely concealed in this place between pleasure and chaos. His thoughts were a rush, his senses too open to hold on to any particular thought for long. The only thing she could make out other than pure sensation in his mind was one repeated word.

Feyre, Feyre, Feyre—

Her name. Over and over again. His tether to this world, to the light.

Rhys. She brushed at the claws on her hips, catching his attention. Come with me.

The roar was deafening. Anyone else would have been terrified, but all Feyre could do was launch herself over the cliff with him as he finally plunged headfirst into his own pleasure. Blazing light flashed. Her light. Her joy, covering Rhys’s darkness with her own body as he collapsed into her, panting heavily against her shoulder. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, calming the tremors that rolled through him.

For a few moments the only sounds in the room were the crackling of Feyre’s dying fire lights and their ragged breathing. When Rhys could finally lift himself onto his hands, he just looked at her for a long moment.

Thought for a thought? she wiped at the sweat dripping from his temples.

He smirked at her, I was thinking that if I didn’t already know what it feels like to die, I would think you were trying to fuck me to death.

Her answering laugh shook her whole body, down to the place where he was still sheathed inside her. Rhys hissed, slowly withdrawing. He watched her glow dim. It always did when they parted, a fact that made him equal parts proud and melancholy. She sat up and stretched, cocking her head as he snapped his fingers to clean them off enough to get to the bath at home, leaving only the paint behind. He always liked to scrub that off of her himself.

“I’m going to have to come in early to clean up,” she worried at her lip, surveying all the spilled paint. The room was a bit of a wreck. Tumbled easels, green and blue paint dripping from the table onto the floor, scattered pieces of drawing paper with distinct details from his mate’s naked body outlined in pink and purple. Rhys scoffed and snapped again, setting everything right.

Feyre grumbled, “you still need to teach me how you do that.”

“I promise I will, but I’m still waiting for my thought,” he said, as he snapped a third time. Her clothes reappeared in a neat pile. They both dressed as she formed the words in her mind. Words to convey the way her pulse ticked up every morning in the shade of his wing, the way her cheeks pinked with the faintest touch of his fingers on her skin.

“Will it be like this always? Will I still want to rip the leathers off of you in a thousand years?” He walked over and took her hands, the movement of his sleek black sweater and trousers the only sound in the room. Warmth passed between them, through their clasped hands and the look he gave her. Like a thousand years was only the beginning of their forever.

“I hope so, Feyre. I really hope so.” He pressed a kiss to her temple and winnowed them both home.

fin.

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acofas #sarah j maas #sjm #feysand #feyre archeron #rhysand #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar smut #my writing #acomaf #acowar #acosf

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chokemeanakin · 3 years

Text

Aggressive Negotiations (part one)-- Anakin Skywalker x fem reader

Okay so I’ve gotten a lot of requests for Anakin seeing reader dressed up for the first time, and I also got a “stuck-in-the-closet” trope, and a “handcuffed-together” trope, so I thought I’d knock out three birds with one stone and just combine them all. Enjoy ;)

(Ps I hope you all don’t mind that I always make reader a non-jedi? Idk I just prefer it when they both have their own strengths.)

Masterlist

Read it on ao3

Wc: 2.6k

The thin material of the dress stuck to your legs, and you tugged it down self-consciously. Fancy red dresses were not your usual cup of tea, but tonight you had a mission, and the entirety of it depended on your ability to seduce the Prince of Krygo.

For once, you wished Anakin had failed at a mission. He had been sent before you to drive Separatist forces away from Kygo before they could take over the rich mining planet, and had succeeded in not only that, but saving the Prince’s life. Of course, this meant a banquet of celebration was to be held, with Anakin as the guest of honor.

Then, rumors of Count Dooku’s presence at the ball were revealed, which is where you came in. Anakin could not get the information alone-- he needed a more… direct source to the knowledge, one where the Prince would have his guard down and he’d be completely open to divulging important information. The Council was obviously “under-the-table” about suggesting you fill this role, and still won’t explicitly tell you what they suggest you do. But you got the idea.

Not that it made you uncomfortable. You were perfectly fine with exploiting a man’s weaknesses for your own good-- in the most respectful way possible. It was mostly the fact that it was Anakin who would be by your side tonight, and it was also Anakin who was your secret lover, and Anakin who had a bad habit of becoming possessive and jealous whenever he felt like his attachment to you became threatened. Therefore, you had to have a talk with him before all this.

“Anakin, sweetie, baby, my love,”

“Hm?”

“Pookie pie. Boo bear. Apple of my eye.”

“Yes, Y/n. Cut it out with nicknames.”

You leaned over the couch where he was sitting and reading his war reports, looking at him sideways. “You know I love you, right?”

“I do...” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Then you know that whatever happens at the ball, between me and the Prince, it means nothing.”

“What are you planning on doing, exactly?”

Now he was sitting up, alarmed. You hugged his head to your chest, kissing his cheek from behind to try and diffuse the situation.

“Nothing too elaborate. Just get him in a position where he has no choice but to tell me where and why he’s hiding Count Dooku.”

“I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“It’s nothing like that, Ani. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“But he might.”

“I won’t let it get that far.”

“You’d be surprised how hard it is to control someone in a situation like that.”

“You speak from experience?”

“No-- no of course not. I just don’t want you to be in that position.”

“Anakin, I know how to handle myself.”

He was rigid beneath your arms, quiet.

“This wasn’t supposed to be that elaborate.”

You drew patterns into the leather armor over his chest, as if you could draw the stress out through your fingertips.

“It’s not. I just thought I’d warn you, in case you see something you don’t like. I don’t want you to think I enjoy his presence, or him. I love you, and that’s all that matters at the end of the mission. Okay?”

“I still don’t like this,” he sighed, finally relaxing back into your arms. “But I trust you.”

“Thank you,” you kissed the top of his head, inhaling his scent. You could feel his unease, but both of you knew there was nothing you could really do to help the situation. You had to get the information out of the Prince, and he was notorious for favoring human women like you. The setup was perfect-- all you had to do was lure him in, set the trap, and then spring when the moment was right. You both knew you had it all under control, even if it did make Anakin nervous.

The one thing you didn’t really think about before agreeing to this, however, was the fact that you would have to dress up. Like… dress up, dress up. It was a formal ball, which meant the ladies had to wear gowns and men had to wear suits. You didn’t know much about fashion, and what was expected for this ball specifically, nor did you even own anything fancy enough to wear. So you went to Padme, who more than gladly lent you a dress that was both elegant and sexy… more so than was probably appropriate.

It was a necessary evil.

Step one was getting the dress, and that part was over. Now began the more difficult phase of the mission: actually putting on the dress and becoming that seductress, even though you had never really done anything like this before. Even more nerve-wracking— you’d have to face Anakin, who had never seen you in anything but your daily clothes before.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your dress down again. It’s not like you had anything to be nervous about— you looked amazing. The dress clung to every inch of your body, the red hue of it popping out against your skin color. Your hair was styled and draped over your shoulders, and you had done your makeup dark and alluring.

You were just nervous to see Anakin’s reaction… or was that excitement?

A buzzer startled you out of your train of thought, signaling that it was time to head down to the party. Anakin must be right outside, waiting for you. You took one last look in the mirror, and then turned to open the door.

The sight of him took your breath away, as per usual. He was dressed in a black suit, form-fitting and dark through and through. You’re not sure why he favored the black theme, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t flatter him. He looked dangerous, and the tilted smirk he was giving you added to the bachelor aura.

“Y/n…” he murmured, immediately fitting his hands around your waist.

“Yes?” You asked when he didn’t continue. He held you a couple inches away, admiring every inch of you. You squirmed under his greedy eyes. “Do… do you think it’s good enough?”

“Good enough?” He finally met your gaze, lifting his brows incredulously. “You’re enchanting.”

Your cheeks flooded with heat, the intensity behind those words loaded with truth. His voice was low, slightly raspy as if he was holding himself back from dragging you into the room and having his way with you here and now, mission be damned. A big part of you wanted that, but a bigger part of you enjoyed standing here, being inspected as if you were the most beautiful girl in the galaxy under his intensifying gaze.

The shift in Anakin’s eyes made you feel like you were on top of the world, like you could do anything. If he thought you were so beautiful when he looked like that… well, maybe you could do anything.

“You look incredible,” he breathed, sliding his hands further around your waist to pull you closer. It was only when he nudged your arms around his own waist did you realize what he was doing— he wanted you to feel the lightsaber he had under his suit jacket, reminding you of the mission, how he’d be watching and protecting you from afar.

You should have known before even opening the door that you would be watched every second of this ball, even now in the hallway of the palace. Something shady was going on on Krygo, and you two were the main targets.

“Let’s head down to the main event, yeah?” He suggested, pulling away and offering his arm. You gathered your composure and hooked your arm around his elbow, allowing him to lead you down the stairs, through the grand hall, and into the ballroom.

It was exactly what you’d imagined— a small orchestra on the stage, playing slow violin waltzes, elegant lace dresses spinning around the room, dress shoes tapping over glossy marble floors, and an overwhelming floral scent from the thousands of purple roses adorning the room.

You spotted the Prince across the room— he was dressed in a delicate white suit, accented with silver and gold, black hair gelled back with a single curl hanging over his forehead. He was striking, but in a different way— a mischievous way. Those mossy eyes were hiding something.

The Prince stopped the whole room with a raise of his glass. He tilted it toward Anakin and you, thanking him for his service to himself and the planet. A murmur of gratitude travelled around the room, and his glass lowered. The ball resumed, but the Prince’s eyes stayed locked in your direction— this time, landing directly on you. He flicked his head, motioning for the two of you to approach.

“You have your knife with you?” Anakin grit between his teeth as he led you toward him.

The arm that wasn’t hooked onto Anakin’s brushed by your side, feeling the minuscule lump of the knife you had slid into the band around your thigh. Your dress had a slit on that leg, providing you easy access for when the time came to use it.

“I’m all set,” you whispered back. He looked at you quickly, his eyes full of hesitance and fear. It was gone in a blink.

“Anakin Skywalker,” the Prince purred as the two of you approached. The rest of his company filtered away. “Or should I say, General Skywalker?”

“Please, Anakin,” he smiled, charming as ever.

“How are you enjoying the ball so far? Does it live up to your Coruscant-ee standards?”

You didn’t like the Prince’s tone of voice. He had a playful lilt, as if everything he said was mocking, a game. It was irritating and unnerving, and made it seem like he knew something you didn’t.

“I can’t say we have many dances at the Jedi temple,” Anakin answered coolly, accepting the drink that the Prince handed him. “But this far exceeds any expectations I might have had.”

“I’m glad you think so— you are the guest of honor,” the Prince bowed his head, lips curling impishly. “And for you, my lady,” he handed you a flute of champagne, similar to Anakin’s.

You took it, smiling sweetly in response. Inside, your nerves were firing out of control. You couldn’t do this— how were you supposed to flirt this man up with Anakin right next to you? It felt too unnatural, too wrong… You needed him to leave, and soon; before the Prince dismissed you, and your only chance at getting him alone for the night was gone.

“I regret coming off as ungrateful, but I believe I see Captain Wel-Solley. We haven’t talked since the battle of Geonosis. You don’t mind, do you?”

You sighed in relief as Anakin excused himself, unhooking his arm from yours.

“Of course not, go ahead,” the Prince encouraged, ushering him with a sweep of his hand. Anakin nodded once and left, fingers lingering on your arm. You knew what he meant by it—

Be careful.

You took a sip of the champagne so you could have a moment to gather your thoughts before hurling yourself headfirst into this mess of a mission. The Prince was already looking at you as you lowered your glass.

“And what do you think of this ball, m’lady?”

“Call me Y/n,” you smiled a bit, leveling your gaze at him. “And I think it’s beautiful. I’ve never been to a ball this extravagant before.”

“So you’re experienced in gallant culture?”

“My mother was princess of Fauna, before the Separatists took over,” you lied. “I grew up in a palace much like this one.”

You’re not sure where that story came from, but you always were a terrific liar. You knew you needed to find a level ground with him, create some kind of unifying factor between the two of you. Why not choose his status? You trusted your gut to just go with it.

“The daughter of a Princess. So that makes you… what? A princess as well?”

“I’d assume so,” you laugh prettily. “It’s no matter to me. I’m not bound by a royal lifestyle anymore.”

“So what do you do? Travel with Republic war generals to keep their morale up?”

“Actually, I’m more of a diplomat,” you swirled the champagne around in your glass, feigning absent-mindedness. “I negotiate treaties, keep the peace when possible.”

He tilted his head, scanning your figure. You could see the appreciating glint in his eye but pretended not to notice. Funnily enough, his face was his weakness. While his voice and demeanor gave you the impression he was spinning a trap around you, his face gave away all of his emotions. You could almost read his thoughts— how you looked so enticing, elegant but teetered on the edge of scandalous. How could an outside like yours be paired with an inspiring, intelligent interior? And a member of royalty, at that? It must be too good to be true.

“Besides,” you continued nonchalantly, “you know the Jedi… their morales don’t require much upkeep.”

“Oh?” The Prince was intrigued. “And what are you implying?”

“Well, they teach against that sort of attachment,” you inform him, a sly smirk spreading across your lips. “A pity, really. It’s been a while since I’ve had any… fun.”

The Prince picked up on that quickly. His grin turned equally sinful, eyes darkening just a shade.

“Well, if you finish that drink, I’m sure we can find something more worthwhile to do.”

“Yeah?” You took a sip and bat your eyes innocently. “Like dancing?”

“Like dancing,” he confirmed, and you both laughed.

Got him.

You scanned the room for Anakin as you took your next sip, finding him dancing with an older woman by the window. He immediately turned to catch your eye, just barely nodding.

You swallowed the last of your champagne, setting it on a silver platter as the server walked by. “So where would you like to continue this?”

You attributed your newfound boldness to the alcohol in your system, as well as the high you got from your recent success. It was almost too easy how he fell into the palm of your hand, but you weren’t going to question it. Now, you had to get him all alone.

“My bedroom is quite large,” the Prince suggested. “There’s lots of room for dancing.”

“I’d hope,” you played along. “I can get quite… sloppy with my steps. No one ever taught me how to dance like a lady.”

“A princess with a dirty technique? I guess I’ll just have to teach you how to do it right.”

His arm stretched out to you, and there it was. Your golden ticket to success. You hooked your arm around his elbow, and he began to lead you out of the ballroom. Anakin’s eyes were palpable on your back as he watched you leave.

Just as you crossed the threshold, you began to feel funny. Your head grew light, vision blurring in and out. Your stomach dropped, and you suddenly felt very faint.

“Are you okay, m’lady?” The Prince paused. “You’re complexion has turned a little pale.”

“Excuse me, I’m alright,” you held onto his arm a little tighter so you wouldn’t fall. “My excitement is getting the best of me.”

“I must admit, I’m just as eager.”

You continued on through the halls, but with each step your grew worse and worse. Before long, your knees could no longer hold you up, and you could barely see two feet in front of you. The last thing you saw before blacking out was the Prince smiling cruelly down at you as he lowered you to the cool, marble floor.

#Anakin Skywalker #anakin #skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin fic #anakin skywalker fic #anakin x reader fic #anakin skywalker x reader fic #anakin fluff #anakin banter #star wars prequels

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withoneheadlight · 3 years

Note

life has been a bit crazy for me so I haven’t been around but I’m glad to see that the upside down kiss fic is circulating back around bc it lives rent free in my mind constantly and I am whORE KNEE 😩

nsfw! anon

(I hope you’ve seen well I miss u :((( )

NSFW!ANON I'M SO HAPPY TO SEE YOU I MISS YOUUUUUU!!!!! Holy shit this is the nicest surprise!!!!!! 💖💖💖🌟💖🌟💖🌟💖🌟💖 Wish your life were at least a bit less crazy :(. Mine's been a bit crazy too. Weird and busy. Haven't been letting me much time for fandom and i miss it so, SO FUCKING much.

And <3<3<3, haha yep! i’ve got a soft spot for that fic too bc i had so much fun writing it, and it’s even funnier on my mind idk xD. i’m so happy people likes it. Those gifs are like a harringrove inspiration charm i swear! Maybe you’ve already seen it but @warheadache added this amazing ar to it and 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉.

also!! i know it doesn’t look like it but i’ve got a couple things for you on the works and i’m closer to finish them!! at my snail pace but yk,

a few excerpts bc i want to give them to you so baaaaaadddDDDDDD:

(I'm sure you'll recognize the working titles :P)

| n s f w ahead |

| boots |

And it’s been more than three years. More than three years of holes on his body and holes on his veins and stitches and tubes and pills and pain under every scar and unsteady steps and pulling together a pile of dirty rubble. More than one of Steve, Steve, Steve. Of coming back in busts and flickers. Enough gasoline left to light a spark. Too empty still to start a fire.

Except―

He’s going through his old stuff, one day. Cold outside. Late January. Chill fogging the windows. Daylight pouring to the edges of the sky like red-hot steel on the other side.

Billy’s on the floor. The contents of the two plastic bags collecting dust at the bottom of his closet since he moved in here now scattered all around. Cassettes and crumpled papers and tampered books and stupid memorabilia and. His old tight jeans. His leather jackets. His light-blue denim one, with the blood-red goodbye kiss of somebody whose cheek he remembers touching, whose face he can’t remember anymore.

And Billy doesn’t hear him coming, but one moment he’s not, the next Steve’s crouching by his side, leaning against him, too lightly for it to be in need of balance.

“God, Hargrove” he huffs, picks Billy’s favorite shirt out of the pile “Am I remembering this one right?”

Billy bites in a smile. Swallows down some bitterness.

“You are”

Steve nods, mouth twisting into a grin, a brow rising. Glances down at what Billy’s holding (on to) between his hands.

“And oooh. Those boots”

Still dirty. More dark brownish than black. One of the few things he got back from the hospital. His pendant being the only one he ever put back on.

“Yeah”

“Thinking ‘bout using any of these again?” Steve gives the shirt a light shake, the dark-red fabric dragging on the wooden floor.

Last time Billy wore it, he burned hole in it. A stray ember fell from his joint, right under the left pocket. Tiny enough to pass mostly unseen but―

For a closer look, it was ruined.

Two days later, the Mind-Flyer dragged him into the basement of Brimborn Steel Works.

Billy digs his fingers into the dry leather before they can start shaking.

“I don’t―” Takes in a big gulp of air “―know. Don’t know if they’ll fit anymore” It feels like nothing.

Because, he doesn’t mean only his body. Means it all. Because he’s alivealivealive, like some kind of inevitability. Alive like a form of inertia.

Alive because that’s all he had left. Got’s left. The only thing he could. Can. Do.

But,

But

“Uhmm” Steve exhales. Looks right into his eyes and it feels like he’s looking deeper. And it’s not the first time, not the first time Billy wonders, how much he knows, and how he knows it. Wonders what he might be seeing, what his instinct might be saying for him to―lower down his voice, eat away almost every single one of the scarce millimeters keeping their mouths from touching “Maybe the boots, then” his hair tickling Billy as it falls over his forehead, the feeling of it so intimate it seems illicit “Only, the boots”.

And those words. Those words. Taste like gasoline on Billy’s mouth, make the flame almost catch. Hot. As they feel over the rabbiting pulse of his jugular. Ad there shouldn’t be any empty space left between them when Steve moves even closer, his lips brushing a path of raw tenderness over Billy’s cheek, trailing sideways, air turning flammable and unstable, unbreathable when he says, “You’d look―” Voice hoarse. Shaky. Breath warm down the curve of Billy’s neck. Fingertips burning as a branding mark over his solar plexus “Hot as fuck”

Trading a grenade for Billy’s fast-beating heart.

And then― he’s getting up. Going away. Closing the door behind him. Leaving Billy one pull away from the detonation.

And Billy.

It’s been more than year since he moved. More than a year of SteveSteveSteve. Of coming back in busts and flickers. Enough gasoline left to light a spark. Too empty still to start a fire.

But Billy wants it, this kind of inevitability. Not inertia. No survival. Not that something living doesn’t really feels like. He wants Steve to release that bomb he just dropped inside of his body. Left Billy unmade. Shape him back together with his own two hands.

So he gets up. Wired-up and breathless. Anticipation beading on the surface of his skin. Thinks about of all those times alive felt like something reachable. That almost-touch sensation. Static singing on his fingertips: loving arms closing around his ocean-cold skin. The rumbling of the sea caught up on the shell of his ribcage. Max's crazy laugh like a hammer to his bones. The Camaro cooking the soles of his feet, speed making his head spin through a wormhole and out into the infinite. His knuckles cracking against the skin of another, finding bone. The metallic tang of blood flooding down the back of his tongue.

Love and fire and rage and―

He takes all his clothes off. They don’t feel like they fit, either. Socks. Sweats. Hoodie. T-Shirt. Takes a deep breath when the pendant bumps against the naked skin of his chest.

Puts his boots on.

Does the only thing he’s ever known.

“Steve!” he shouts. Pulse spiking up fast. Trying to beat a way out of his body “Can you come back in here?”

Skyrocketing, when Steve shouts back.

“Going!”

And then is the door clicking open. Billy’s lungs freezing in the middle of a breath. Steve’s eyes looking almost black as they catch the shadows. Sun falling down the reality of the other side.

And in a darkness like that, it’s only them what remains. Them, and the way they are looking at each other.

And Billy feels alive. Like falling. Feet slippin’ on the razor’s edge.

"Billy" breathes out Steve. Shoulder perched on the frame. Fingers tightening around the handle "Fuck, Billy I―"

“Yeah?”

Alive. Like a form of gravity when―

Steve comes forward. To him. Careful. Careful. Footsteps creaking on the wooden floor. Lashes falling down as his eyes drift. Swallows. Comes closer and closer still.

And then.

Their chest are brushing and their hands are almost touching and it's not even an inch but Billy has to look up even with his stupid boots on and,

“You said―”

Steve breathes in. Cuts Billy’s breath off his lungs.

Between them, there’s no room for anything that’s not the way they’re not touching.

“I know what I said”

The air, sparks, sizzles, becomes the memory of a thunderstorm and. The tips of Steve’s fingers make his hairs stand on end. High voltage. Spark over the inside of his wrist. The faded blue of his veins. And Billy shivers. Feels like that second of stasis before the rupture. Static calm and then― the ocean breaks.

And then Steve says,

“I wanna see it. That fire in you” and his fingers tickle across the hidden tenderness on the inside Billy’s elbow. Nails grazing their way up to his shoulder, detouring to contour the crest of his clavicle, slide down the trough, spreading as they follow the shape of Billy’s neck, thumb fitting into the corner of his lips and “C’mon.” smiling, smiling. Eyes creasing at the sides, lashes catching the few last strings of light. Wicked and sweet and devastating “Show me who’s that Billy Hargrove everybody's been telling me so much about”

| stick | tw: object insertion |

It’s thrilling, this secret, depraved game they play. Feels like it's forbidden. Leaves a sweet, honey-thick aftertaste.

And Billy is so. So curious. Can’t stop asking Steve to tell him “How it feels babe. I want to know how good it feels. God you look like it's hitting you just right” and Steve tells him. Steve fucks himself down into whatever thing Billy is holding for him, never touching himself until he’s almost there, wanting to ride that sole sensation right up until the very end. Shivering. Shaking. Breaking a sweat. The words coming ragged out of his open mouth. “Cold” or “Weird” or “Like. Too much–ah. Too much” and “Soft, God, Billy so soft” and–

“Why don’t you try it yourself?”

And Billy its so, so curious.

Billy does.

Rails himself for Steve to watch, slicked up with lube and dripping. With a rolling pin. A cucumber. Almost a whole box of wooden colored pencils, stuffed inside his ass one by one. With “ohgodgodgod” the handle of Steve’s fucking nailed bat. Lets Steve holds whatever thing he chooses for him “C’mon, babe. C’mon. Treat it good. Swallow it as deep as you can. Take it like you would take my cock”

And life in Hawkins gets boring after the first, second, fourth, seventh yearly round. Steve takes that office work. Billy gets a permanent spot in the garage. If he gets real lucky, somebody takes him an interesting car from time to time. But sometimes Steve looks at Billy with dark, liquid eyes. Says “Ok enough”. His voice harsh. Rasped. Losing balance at the edge of what he’s able to restrain himself. Sounding as if he’s jealous of those things jamming the insides if Billy’s ass. Takes out Billy’s been writhing around. Fucks him hard. Fuck him deep. Fucks him so good there are tears in Billy’s eyes by the time he comes. Fallen apart and sobbing.

Steve’s driving. One hand on the wheel. One hand on the shift. The cool air of the night coming in shorts through the rolled-down window. On the radio, Ted Nugent’s making his guitar whine, the strings arching into the touch of his fingertips, asking for more more more, ‘Here I come again now baby. Like a dog in heat’

Steve’s long fingers flex over the knob, winter-cold white under reddened knuckles. He shifts from third to fourth with a smooth press and lets go of the clutch, and the Camaro sighs, settles. Steve makes her calm. Steve tames her. Where Billy makes her growl and kick Steve drives her like a lover, whispers to her with all his body I’m gonna fuck you so slow. We got all night, baby. Steve treats her right. Runs those fingers up and down the metallic rod of the shift and Billy gets hard. One second from zero to sixty.

His cock pulses, pulses. Fills up whole. The sudden rush of heat traveling up, up. Presses against the walls of his throat. Billy wants to feel the head of Steve’s cock against his bell. Wants Steve to make him choke on him.

Steve brakes. Clutches. Reduces. The Camaro moans, needy. Steve soothes her, caresses it with a soft brush of his thumb along the speed patter Shh, baby sshhh. Just hold a little bit longer. I promise I will let you come.

Billy feels himself twitch, spit out precum. The inside of his pants feels damp, appetizing. He lets his hips slide, rock.

The knob is real leather. Silver pattern ingrained over black. Seams carefully sew out on the surface as a touch of style.

Billy replaced it a few months ago, the old one too damaged by use. Worn out.

This one curves slightly forward.

It would hit just right.

Steve's eyes are alight, framed in the light reflected from the rearview mirror, a dramatic take out of an old Noir.

Except the brown shines full color. Alive.

Billy puts his hand over Steve’s on the knob, spreads his fingers around his.

Grips him hard.

“Hey, babe. Have you ever thought about it?”

“Mmm? About what?”

“About riding my car”

Steve huffs. Chuckles.

“I am driving your car”

“Yeah” Billy caresses the side of Steve’s hand with his thumb, a lagged reflection of his gesture. Thinks about how pretty Steve’s lips would look around that leather, mouth open wide “Don’t mean it like that”

Billy has to take a deep, shaky breath, thinking it's a miracle they ever get as far as they plan, that Steve Harrington's mere existence doesn't make him come just by looking at him.

Not all their games get to the finish line. But this, God, Billy wants this one to.

"Ah-ah" he shakes his head, smirks, keeps the stakes high "But if you hop on I'll let you eat my mouth"

“Mmmm. I don’t know”

Steve twists his lips, considering, looks like he’s willing to take his sweet time deciding, staying just like this, idly rocking on his lap, keeping Billy hooked in this scarce feeling, this almost kissing between their cocks.

And Billy––Uff. Billy it’s too revved-up, can’t take it any fucking second more.

Grabs Steve’s asscheeks. Lifts him up.

“Billy what the—ohfuck” It doesn't go in. ‘Course it doesn’t. When Billy lets Steve’s weight drop just a slight bit. It bumps. Slips. Wet and obscene. Rips a breathless thing of a sound out of his throat. But then Steve’s arms wrap around his neck. Bracing himself so Billy can take a hold of it, line himself up. And then yeah yeah. He barely has to rub the head against Steve’s slippery hole and his cock slides in. Eaaasy. All the way. Into Steve’s warmth. Tight. Tight. Tight. And–

“Ohfuck. OhfuckOh”

The air coming in from the window is cool, bristling, but it feels like nothing when Steve lets out a chocked cry. Fucks himself. Fast. Rough. Face buried into the crook of Billy’s neck. Breath blooming hot, hot. Teeth on his pulse.

“Shhhh, baby, shhh” Billy takes his face between his hands, pushes him carefully backwards. Waits ‘till Steve’s eyes slowly find focus on his, still rocking, still― “Hey. You gotta stop. You hear me?” Steve takes a deep breath, exhales long and shaky. It takes all of him to slow down, Billy knows, but he does. Thighs twitching. Cock weeping. Smearing over Billy’s belly where his t-shit has hitched up.

Billy brushes his hair back from his forehead. Tangled and damp and gorgeous.

Kisses him light and sweet.

“We’re close, baby. We’re really, really close. But you gotta stop so I can open you up real good ok?”

Steve nods, eyes glossy, lips bitten and Billy feels overwhelmed, feels like burning under the hard sun. They’re both hanging by the thinnest of threads, Billy can feel it, can see it in the blown-out dark of Steve’s eyes. They’re riding pleasure at point break, time holding its breath for them. This is his favorite part of the game. A little too much, just a little too much. ‘Till one of them loses it. ‘Till one of them melts on the other’s hands. Hard and thick.

And God, Billy has never been one not to push his luck.

He takes two fingers up to Steve’s lips, runs the tips over the tender skin inside. Thinks about how they don’t look bitten enough, swollen enough. About how he’s gonna have to fix that.

“I’m gonna put these two inside. Will you get them ready for me?” Steve’s Smile twitches up, canines showing. It’s a two-men-con. But they play as much against the other as they play together. So Steve swallows both fingers. All the way in one go. Eyes falling shut. Eats them wet and messy. Deepthroats. Rumbles. Ass clenching, pulsing around Billy’s cock. And Billy is only a short breath of self-control away from spending himself inside him like a fucking rookie.

It’s boring, small-town life, really. Except–

“Good boy,” he says, making his fingers pop out of Steve’s mouth, satisfaction tastier than honey at the mean glare it grants him. But it softens, that glare, Steve’s eyelids flutter, open-mouthed and blissed, when Billy brushes the head of his cock with his knuckles, haft teasing, half relieving, keeping Steve in the tightrope with him.

“I’m getting a bit impatient in here, Hargrove” he says, only managing to make his voice sound half annoyed about it. Bit Billy is too, impatient. So drags his fingers down, pads tracing the taut shape of Steve’s cock, his balls, and down. Presses. Softly. Rubs the stretched-out flesh of his hole. Dips just the tips. Press. Press. And–

“AhfuckBilly–Ah.Mmmmh”

It’s tight. Steve’s ass clenches around him, squeezes him in. It’s a heady feeling, having him like this, senses overrunning. He’s intoxicated. High on the painful scratch of Steve’s nails when he grabs his jaw to kiss him open-mouthed and harsh. The helpless way he chokes off a sob when Billy makes his fingers curl, rubs him good and,

“I’m ready, Billy. I’m ready. BillyBillyplease. I can’t take it anymore. Please, baby. I’m ready” he’s gasping, breathless, barely taking in the heated up air they share.

“Hey. C’mon. C’mon. Just a little more, ok?. A little more and I’ll let you swallow it all in. That knob. All the way down your ass. No space left for anything else" he licks the words all along Steve’s neck, his ear. Rubs his lips over the damp roots of his hair. Cock pushing. Fingers working. When Steve sits on the stick. Billy wants him right over the edge “Gonna cum so hard you’re gonna be begging me to let you ride her again”

yup! hope you like them! i really really REALLY want to finish them for you.

Fingers crossed I get to see you again soon my dear nsfw!anon 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

#im sending you THE BIGGEST HUG <3<3<3<3<33<#I MISSSSS YOUUUUUUUUUU #your asks never fail to light up my day #take care #and dont let that bad real life grip you too hard #i'll be around if you need me #and my ask box is always open for you #ns*w!anon💖#harringrove #long post #till i can make a cut sorry #the wip tag game!#xwips #xaskfic

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iamanartichoke · 3 years

Text

[please blacklist spoiler tags: #loki tv series spoilers, #loki series spoilers, #loki spoilers]

Yes, I did just watch episode 2 at 5:30 in the morning.

No, I am not sorry. Not at the moment, although when I inevitably crash later this afternoon, I will be.

Just some very, very quick - and scattered and messy - thoughts: That is a straight up lie; they’re definitely scattered and messy but not very quick at all.

Under the cut for spoilers and length.

I’m going to start with Loki’s characterization. My honest opinion is that Loki’s overall characterization feels like a fic characterization. He definitely is not Avengers Loki, like, at all. I don't know if Tom just, like, forgot how to play that Loki or ...?? That, or Loki was so much more mind-controlled than we realized and getting hulk-smashed just completely reset him back to zero but also fucked him up a little bit and affected his personality, kind of like how some people completely develop weird new personality quirks after a traumatic brain injury.

… yeah, I think that’s where I’m gonna land for now. TV series!Loki feels like a more-or-less canon version of Loki, but if that Loki got hit in the head really hard and now he’s just a little bit fucked up but overall no worse for the wear. Which - it may be that it’s so early in the morning, but that’s actually really fucking funny to me, lmao. God, I kill me. It’s not funny.

No, but, that’s pretty much how I feel. He’s ooc but he’s also ic, and the reason I’m not particularly bothered by the inconsistency, for lack of a better word, is because that’s what pretty much every fic Loki already feels like to me? (Including my own, so I’m not, like, saying that in a derogatory way.) Which is why I say Loki feels like a fic!Loki and to try to explain it better - there is always, for me, a little suspension of disbelief that I employ when I read fic. The reason for that is because the context, the plot, and the dynamics of the fic are usually pretty different than what we ever get in canon, so it becomes a matter of taking film!Loki and, like, bending him a bit in order to fit him into the perimeters of the fic.

The result ends up being that I don’t see the exact Avengers!Loki or TDW!Loki, and thus by definition the portrayal is ooc, but the version that I do see feels like a genuine extension of the canon version, possessing enough of Loki’s overall traits and characteristics that he feels authentic, albeit a bit pretzeled for the new context.

I honestly think that’s something that’s unavoidable, just due to the fact that in fic - and now, in this series - there are a lot more variables at play than there are in the films, wherein Loki is not just a supporting character but also the villain/antagonist and is therefore very limited in what he does/what the narrative allows him to do. When those limitations are taken away, what are we going to see? Probably a lot of different things, and yeah, a lot of them are going to feel a little ooc. And, like in fic, even if the characterization mostly lands, there are definitely bits and pieces (some fics more than others lean this way) where the author didn’t stick the landing or got carried away or otherwise probably forgot for a while that they were writing Loki, not their own OC.

That’s the point where it strays into cringe territory for me (and where the ‘heh, he’s Loki but with a brain injury’ aspect comes in), but while I had to consciously decide to just ignore those moments, overall the tone in this episode felt a bit more balanced between the new, the old, and the cringe, and less whiplash-y from the beginning of the episode to the end.

… I have no idea if that makes sense, but what I’m basically saying is that while I am enjoying this version of Loki, I do recognize all of the ways he’s ooc but, unlike how I feel about Ragnarok!Loki, the ooc-ness feels genuine and unavoidable rather than just a fundamental and careless misunderstanding of the character altogether. In other words, I feel like any ooc-ness here is happening despite the writers taking care to do their best, and isn’t just a result of Loki being lazily written by a person or persons who just doesn’t want to bother with him at all.

Again, I don’t know if that makes sense, but fuck it, there we are and I’m moving on.

I liked all of the little details, including again, things that felt straight out of fic, like Loki asking Mobius why he has the jetski magazine. (Also, if any of my thorki friends read this, was I the only one who noticed that when we see Loki reading the magazine, it just happens to be open to a page with a picture featuring a jet skier who looks like Thor? l.m.a.o.)

Loki interrupting things to explain the difference between illusions vs the other power (I can’t remember which one, off hand, and if I stop writing to go look it up I will lose my train of thought and not finish this) was great, but his overall input and contributions to the missions inspired very mixed feelings for me. On the one hand, I loved that the narrative, via Loki, is reminding us of all these things that he’s capable of that the films generally left out or brushed aside or ignored - but, every time he spoke, he was met with eye rolls and sighs and just a general feeling of “someone please shut this guy up” and I didn’t like the narrative treating him that way.

But also, it’s understandable bc none of the people on his team are actually on his team. None of them want him there (story of Loki’s fucking life), none of them trust him, and none of them are particularly interested in hearing what he has to say. So it’s like, I understand why they reacted the way they did, and I don’t think their reactions are meant to support an overall narrative undermining of Loki’s skills and input - but, the tone is hard to read for me bc I am very defensive and protective of Loki. I can’t quite determine the line between the TVA agents being unreliable narrators (ie, they’re annoyed by Loki bc of who he is to them, but that doesn’t mean the audience is supposed to feel the same) and the TVA agents validating that Loki is just being a nuisance (and, thus, the audience is supposed to feel the same).

That is, I know how I am consuming the narrative (that they’re unreliable narrators), but I’m not sure if that’s how tptb are intending for me to consume the narrative - and I guess it doesn’t really matter, but it’s worth mentioning.

In general, I really liked, again, Loki existing in his own space and watching the way he carried himself. I especially found it interesting that his hands were almost always in his pockets - for one thing it's a stance I tend to imagine him taking often in fic, but also it’s kind of a weird choice bc pockets don’t seem to be a thing in Asgardian clothing. It makes me feel like Loki is the kind of person who never knows what to do with his hands but is always conscious of them, as is common among anxious and self-conscious people, and I just find that relatable on a weird level.

I am really kinda torn on Mobius in this episode; when not interrogating Loki, he’s much less antagonistic toward Loki and therefore I’m more inclined to take-him-or-leave-him but I’ll go ahead and take him I guess. Yet at the same time, bc he’s not interrogating Loki he’s also not trying to put on a show for Loki and when you take that away, he really doesn’t seem to like Loki at all. It supports that Mobius only wants what Loki can do for him and doesn’t actually particularly care about him as a person, which is fine and more or less what I figured, but it contributes to me not really being able to decide how I feel about him in general. Idk, though, I kinda like their dynamic? Like I want them to end up friends?

Regardless, Tom and Owen have amazing chemistry and it’s really funny to me bc (not to be a jerk) I honestly didn’t know Owen Wilson could act. Like, I’ve never seen him in a role where he wasn’t just playing Owen Wilson. So for him to not only be playing Mobius so well but also having such chemistry and a sense of holding-his-own against Tom Hiddleston is like, color me surprised but pleasantly so.

I like B-15 a lot, even though she obviously hates Loki, so idk why I like her but I do. I like Renslayer less, but meh. (Side note - when I was in undergrad in Syracuse, I took the Amtrak from Syracuse to Boston and back more than a few times, for reasons that aren’t relevant, and that route always had a layover at Albany-Rensselaer and every single time I see Renslayer’s name, I want to call her Rensselaer instead.) Shout out to the guest appearance by Casey, sorry Loki stole your juice lmfao.

The moments from the trailer that were very cringe were less so in context (though still kinda cringe, tbh). I think we’ve seen most of the content from the trailers in the first two episodes now, though, which means going forward, it’s going to be like 95% previously unseen material (aside from the brief apocalyptic shots and so forth).

One thing I fucking loved was how Loki, reading about Ragnarok, was visibly affected and even teared up a bit, and you could tell he was in his feels about it, but then later when Mobius expresses sympathy, Loki is just like, “Uh huh, very sad, but anyway.” It was a subtle (well maybe not that subtle) but effective way to remind us that what Loki presents to other people is more often than not a mask and he keeps his true feelings close to the chest. It makes last week’s breakdown have even more of an impact, I think, bc clearly Loki was at the end of his rope to allow himself to show that much raw emotion and vulnerability, but also - for me - there’s a niggling little doubt there that wasn’t there before, in that there was probably more performance in it than I thought.

By which I mean, I think his reaction to the film of his life when he was alone was genuine but, while I previously thought his admission to Mobius later was also genuine, I now think was probably half genuine and half performative. I know others already figured that out, but I’m a little slow and, also, I don’t mind changing my opinion and interpretation from week to week.

Along the same lines, I wasn’t exactly surprised to see that Loki is “undercover” in the TVA, but it was nice to see it acknowledged fairly quickly. Not sure I buy that Loki wants to overthrow and rule the TVA - it’s still a little too “Loki only wants a throne” for me, but again, just because that’s what he told the variant doesn’t mean that’s actually what he’s after.

And, finally, I like the variant, I love Loki’s reaction to seeing her, and while I realize that the show has acknowledged Loki’s gender fluidity and we’re meant to assume that Lady Loki (I guess? Not sure if we’re going with that or not here) is Loki, I saw a theory somewhere about how this is actually not Loki-Loki, but - I wanna say her name Sophie but that’s the actress, again I can’t go look it up bc I will lose my train of thought - but it’s a character who is similar to Amora and who was created by Loki and models herself as Loki but she’s actually someone else.

Ugh I can’t remember the details of the theory, but I am kinda going with it bc I don’t think that Loki would look so - not surprised but just kind of “oh, well, I wasn’t expecting that” if he were seeing the female version of himself. Like, he doesn’t seem to recognize her the way I assume he would recognize himself, male or female. Not only does that make me feel like she’s actually someone else, but also not recognizing her as the female version of himself doesn’t necessarily mean Loki doesn’t recognize her at all. He may very well recognize her as this other Amora-similar character and, if so, I really want to see how that character fits with MCU Loki (as I think she’s a comic book character but, again, I’d have to go back and find that theory).

Edit: I found a version of it here.

Overall score, B-. Mostly solid, but needs moar Loki breakdowns and tears. (That's just me, don't fucking judge me.) Also, I really hate that we have to wait a week between episodes. I wish they were following Netflix’s method of dropping the entire season at once but, then again, if they did that, I’m not sure any of us would survive.

I gotta get ready for work and I deleted and rewrote so much of this and it still seems nonsensical to me, lmfao fml. Anyway feel free to interact/send me asks/whatever, it’s going to be a long fucking day with all of this on my mind. I’ll be working my way through my dash as best as I can.

Oh, also! Loki is so fucking pretty in this episode! The TVA suit is ugly, but he makes it work, and his hair's combed nicely and he looks like he finally got an opportunity to sleep and shower and eat something and, yknow, it's working for him.

#loki tv series spoilers #loki series spoilers #loki spoilers #loki pokey artichokey #also thought it was interesting that as soon as mobius gave him the jacket #loki barely took it off and didn't go anywhere without it #lending even more credence to the fact that he likes to be as covered up as possible at all times

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retrievablememories · 4 years

Text

crush on you | johnny

title: crush on you pairing: johnny x black!reader genre: fluff request: “Do you think you could do a scenario about Johnny coming home to Chicago and seeing (black) reader from his hometown and confessing his crush on her” word count: 3.6k warnings: some cursing, some kissing lol a/n: this southern girl don’t know a thang about chicago so i had to do some research here, don’t eat me up y’all...i’m trying to experiment with writing from multiple POVs so idk if it makes sense but you can tell me if it doesn’t lol

“Ah, it’s cold,” Taeyong rubs his hands together and puffs warm air into them, though it doesn’t do much to take the chill away.

“It’s that Chicago weather.” Johnny chuckles, largely unphased by the temperature outside. With their recent time off affording them a trip to Johnny’s hometown, Mark, Johnny, and Taeyong decided to visit the Chicago Botanic Garden; though it was mostly Johnny’s idea, since the others are still fairly new to the city.

Every year around this time of the season, the Garden has a light show for the December holidays. Johnny saw it as the perfect opportunity to have some fun while sharing more American festivities with Taeyong and Mark. The other members can never get enough of finding something new and exciting to do whenever they’re overseas.

As they walk through the brightly lit landscape, Johnny catches a glimpse of a familiar face, and his laughter at one of Mark’s jokes trails off. He watches to make sure he’s seeing things correctly; yes, the two girls a few feet away from them. He’s not familiar with the other one, but the first girl is undoubtedly you, someone he remembers from his high school days. Same bright smile, pretty brown skin, and recognizable laughter, though you’ve obviously matured since then.

He tries not to be obvious about staring, but his gaze trails after you like he’s afraid he’ll lose track of you forever. He didn’t really expect to see you again after you both graduated high school, but here you are.

“....you know what I mean?”

“Huh?”

“You totally missed what I said!” Mark sighs. “I’m not telling the joke again—what are you even looking at? You’re completely distracted.”

“A girl,” Taeyong snickers, ducking his head and shoving his hands in his pockets. Mark’s eyebrows rise up to his bangs at that, and Johnny sighs.

“Oh, word? Who?”

Before Johnny can answer, you glance backwards, and the both of you catch eyes. You’re equally surprised to see him, but there is definitely recognition there. He’s almost shocked you remember him; but of course, he’s part of a famous kpop group now, so it’s not impossible to know who he is.

“So it is you,” you say. Your friend gives a knowing grin, and Johnny figures she must’ve been the one to notice he was there. Have you told her about him before? Maybe she’s even a fan of the group.

“You remember me?” Johnny asks, smiling slightly. The 3 men walk up to you and your friend and stop in front of you.

“Well, yes…” you answer. “You aren’t exactly the kind of person one forgets.” Johnny isn’t sure if that’s a good thing or not, but he is admittedly happy that he’s stuck in your mind all this time.

“I could say the same about you.”

You smile politely at that, though you feel a little embarrassed, too. You’re unsure what to say next, and your friend has to come in to save the day once again.

“You can walk with us if you want, the tour’s more fun in a group anyway.” The guys look at each other as if trying to decide if this is a good idea or not, though Johnny seems to have made his mind up already. Still, he leaves it open for you to decide when he says,

“I mean, if you really want us to come. We wouldn’t wanna disturb the good time you’re having or anything…”

“Dude, they’ve already invited us,” Mark snorts.

“Stop playing hard to get, you’re not very convincing,” Taeyong says in Korean, shaking his head at Johnny’s posturing.

Your friend giggles to no end, and all you can do is shake your head at her. “Yes, it’s totally fine. Come on!” You pull your friend along and wave for the other guys to follow.

Soon, though, your friend ends up hanging back a little with Mark and Taeyong as you and Johnny talk, walking through the colorful gardens.

“How long are you gonna be in town?” you ask, studying the small glittering lights all around you.

“A couple weeks,” he answers. “We got some time off, so…I wanted to come back home.”

“That’s nice. I can imagine it would get a little lonely being away from home all the time.”

“It can be, but you get through it…what about you? How’s life been treating you?”

“I’ve been fine...working and just living life and all that. I’m thinking about getting another degree or something, you know, just to feel more accomplished with myself...I mean, nothing as extravagant as being a worldwide star,” you say, laughing as you look at him, “but it’s life.”

“It’s great to be able to do that, though! You should be proud. If you decide to.” Johnny talks excitedly, almost like he thinks there won’t be enough time to say whatever he wants to. You nod at his words, grinning slightly at his fast talking.

“I think you’re right.” You look out across the way to see the tiny snowflakes that have begun to fall more rapidly. They’ve been coming sporadically for the past hour or so, but they’re falling more frequently now.

“Oh, you have one on your eye...” Johnny points to your face and you look at him quizzically. “A snowflake.” You let him get closer to brush it off your eyelash, though it quickly melts under his body heat.

“Thanks,” you say, your body warming from his actions.

Before you know it, your little group has walked around much of the gardens already, and the air is getting cold enough to make your teeth hurt from the chill. “Well, I guess we should be heading home soon,” you say, glancing over to your friend who looks to be having the time of her life with the other 2 men. She pouts at your words.

Johnny nods solemnly. “I’d like to talk to you again, especially since we haven’t seen each other in a while...could I get your number?” Your friend giggles behind you, and you have to resist the urge to give her a look.

“Is that a good idea? I don’t want your managers coming after me with pitchforks or something,” you say jokingly, but you’re partly serious about it, too. Johnny waves his hand, smirking as if it’s not important.

“That’s not a problem. They’re our managers, but they can’t run every aspect of our lives.” Taeyong gives a skeptical look at that but says nothing.

Biting your lip, you decide to take a chance with it. After swapping numbers, you say your goodbyes, with you nearly dragging your friend away as she takes her sweet time smiling and waving. “Girl. If you can manage to calm down on the way home, I’ll find a way to set you up with Taeyong or something, but chill!”

“Girl...don’t say that lightly, I’m holding you to it.”

Johnny lies on his bed in his childhood bedroom, scrolling through his phone. He looks through your Instagram page to see what you’ve been up to for the past few years. Maybe he should feel like more of a creep about it, but Instagram’s contact syncing feature made it ridiculously easy to find your profile, whether he was actively looking for it or not.

Mark already knows what Johnny is up to, and his interest is instantly piqued. “Hyung, how long are you gonna stalk her IG from your private account? This is like the 500th time in 3 days. Just call her if you miss her that bad.” Mark giggles mischievously as he says this. He tries to look over the other man’s shoulder, but Johnny shifts away from him, trying to shield his phone.

“It’s not the 500th time,” Johnny argues, his ears turning pink at being caught red-handed.

“You’re right, it’s the 501st time,” Mark says, making a grab for the older man’s phone. Johnny twists away from him, but he’s not quite fast enough to miss Mark’s swipe. His phone gets knocked out of his hand, though it thankfully hits the bed instead of the floor. Him and Mark end up wrestling around on the bed, with Johnny putting the younger boy in a headlock. Taeyong watches in amusement as the two fight.

“You’re doing too much,” Johnny says, rolling his eyes after letting Mark go.

“I’m doing too much, but you’re the one choking me out,” Mark huffs, fixing his disheveled hair.

In the mad scramble for his phone, Johnny realizes he’s accidentally liked one of your photos and he feels the back of his neck burn with embarrassment. Will you notice it and wonder who the faceless account liking your pictures is? “Fuck,” he blurts out, wondering if he should unlike the photo. You would’ve already gotten the notification for it, so what’s the point?

“What’s wrong?” Mark asks, unable to resist the urge to peek over Johnny’s shoulder again. Johnny elbows him away, and Mark yelps when he gets caught in the stomach.

“Dumbass, you made me accidentally like a photo...one from 2 years ago.”

“It doesn’t matter. I doubt she even cares or will notice it.” Taeyong pipes up from his spot across the room.

“Are you sure? Who isn’t gonna notice a weird ass private profile liking a 2-year-old post?” This time, Mark rolls out of the way before Johnny is able to cuff him upside the head.

Taeyong sucks his teeth. “It really doesn’t matter. You already have her number! Who cares about accidentally liking an Instagram post? She won’t know it’s you either way. Like Mark said, just call her and stop freaking out about it.”

“The fact that she gave you her number at all means she doesn’t see you as a total weirdo, so you have a chance of everything working out,” Mark says, lying back on the bed with his arms behind his head.

“Somehow, I’m not sure if that makes me feel worse or better.”

It doesn’t take Johnny very long to lure you out of your home once you start texting each other. On Friday, you get a message from him that reads:

12:02 P.M. Johnny 🧸 Do you wanna hang out somewhere?? Like today?

12:03 P.M. Very last minute of you, lol. Depends on where you’re gonna take me

12:03 P.M. Johnny 🧸 🙃 I know a spot

12:04 P.M. Where would that be?

12:04 P.M. Johnny 🧸 Do you trust me??

12:04 P.M. ?! Trust you? I’m scared. Where are you even taking me lmao

12:05 P.M. Johnny 🧸 Somewhere cool. But you gotta trust me first. I can show you a whole new world

12:06 P.M. Please. You’re such a cornball :( But okayyy, I’ll go

You give him your address and go to get ready afterwards. You’re unsure what to wear, but it’s always freezing cold this time of year, so you figure you’re safe with bundling up no matter where you’re going.

Johnny comes to pick you up not long after, and you go out to meet him in his car, which is idling in your driveway.

“You look really cute,” Johnny says after you get into the car, his lips curling into a little cat-like grin.

You try to play it cool, though you can’t stop the smile that spreads on your lips. “Mmm, thanks.”

You two make casual small talk on the way to your destination, talking about what you did that week, what you plan to do next week, and the weather—which is cold, cold, and more cold.

You sit up straighter once you finally get to where you’re going, your eyes widening a bit as you look out the window. “The Museum of Contemporary Photography? I don’t think I’ve been here before.”

“Even better. It’s always fun to have a brand-new experience.”

“I’m a little surprised though, you made it sound like we were going on some dangerous mission,” you say laughingly as you both walk into the museum. There’s already a decent amount of people present, lingering around and looking at the exhibits. “Do you live for drama or what?”

“Drama, excitement, it’s all the same thing. It’s what makes life interesting.”

You and Johnny walk through an exhibit from a photographer with a wealth of city and natural scenery photos, though there are a few portraits scattered throughout. Most of them are in black and white, with a smattering of full-color pictures grouped together.

“I haven’t been to a museum in a long time,” you sigh, tucking your hands into your pockets as you walk along a wall of monochrome photos. “I forgot what it’s like to sit back and appreciate art. Sad, huh.”

“Maybe not sad,” Johnny says, trailing after you. “Sometimes life just gets in the way and you can’t do everything you want to.”

“Doesn’t it? I’m sure you’re familiar with that, though...it really has been a while since I’ve been able to actually enjoy something simply for the sake of enjoying it.”

“That’s why I’m here!” Johnny says this cheerfully, his eyes twinkling like he’s just found the answer to all your problems. Or your biggest one, at least. Your face cracks at his goofy grin, and you duck your head while holding in your laughter. “Really, though. What if it was fate that we met up like we did, not even knowing we were gonna be at the same place?”

“Then I’d say the universe has a funny way of operating,” you say, observing a photo of a nighttime skyline.

When you get to the end of the exhibit, Johnny holds his hand out to you. “There’s something I wanna show you.”

You glance at his eyes, which are achingly sincere, and look away when you find you’re too nervous to hold his gaze for long. Though you hesitate for a moment, you take his hand, which is calloused and warm in your own. “Lead the way.”

He takes you further into the museum, eventually leading you to an exhibition room filled wall-to-wall with images of flowers. Your senses are a little shocked by the barrage of colorfulness, a sure contrast to the other artist’s work. Some of the images are big enough to take up half the wallspace, and they’re detailed enough for you to see even the tiniest lines in the flowers’ petals.

“This is amazing,” you whisper, walking closer to see the images in their full glory. You’re not sure if it’s weird to still be holding Johnny’s hand, but he hasn’t let go, so you figure it’s okay.

“I remembered you really liked flowers when we were in high school, although I couldn’t remember which kind…you always wore this one flower pin on your backpack, though.”

“The same one I eventually lost.” You frown a bit at that. It was long ago, but the memory still bothers you; you never found it after it went missing.

“Yeah. I felt kinda bad back then because you seemed pretty upset about it, so…” Johnny shrugs. “I know it’s not the same thing, but…”

“I can’t believe you remembered all that. Or even noticed it, really.” Your heart beats a little faster, though you try to ignore it. This can’t just be a nice gesture between old classmates, right? “Thank you, really. I appreciate this.” You squeeze his hand a little tighter in yours. Johnny smiles at you and squeezes back.

“Are you hungry?” Johnny asks when you get back in the car. You stretch your hands in front of the air vents and shudder at the warm air on your palms, and Johnny’s heart skips a little beat at the cute display.

“Sure. I don’t know what to eat, though...what about you?”

Johnny taps his fingers against the steering wheel. “Hmm, I know a place.”

You glance out the window as the museum’s scenery fades out of view and gives way to the roadway again. It’s not that late yet, but the sun is already looking heavy in the sky—one of your least favorite things about winter. “You seem to know a lot of good hangout spots,” you say teasingly. “But I’m not surprised. You were quite well-known even back then.”

Johnny laughs, a bit embarrassed. “I don’t know about that.”

“Oh, please. A lot of people liked you. Girls, especially.”

Johnny wants to ask you the question that’s just popped into his mind, but he decides to save it for when you get to the restaurant, instead biting his lip and turning your words around in his head.

Johnny ends up taking you to a charming little restaurant that has just about anything you can imagine on the menu, which changes almost daily. You’re not sure how they pull that off with being a little local spot, but you’re not complaining.

The two of you take a table and talk more as you wait for your food to come, moving past the small talk and delving more into your school years. You spend a while there talking and eating, and the hours pass before you’re aware of it.

Johnny watches you sip at your smoothie as the last rays of the evening sun spread across your face, illuminating your eyes and coily hair with their warmth. If he stares any longer, it’ll probably get weird, but he doesn’t want to stop looking. The same feeling that’s got him unable to look away compels him to finally just say something, so he doesn’t think twice when he tells you,

“I’ve always liked you, you know.”

You blink, turning from the window to look at him.

Johnny looks bashful after speaking, which you’re a little surprised about, because you’ve hardly ever seen him look hesitant or afraid about much of anything until today. You stare at him with your eyes incredulous and your straw halfway to your mouth.

“What?”

Johnny chuckles a little, though he feels a little less confident even though he hasn’t received your answer yet. “I like you. When we were in high school, I—yeah. I had a crush on you. Have, I mean—I still do.”

You’re initially unsure how to take this big reveal, especially knowing he still likes you after all this time has passed. Maybe you suspected it from his behavior over the past few days and today, but it’s still a little hard to digest when you know he has thousands of girls throwing themselves at him.

“Why didn’t you say anything while we were in school?” is the first thing you can think to ask.

He shakes his head, looking at his hands. “I don’t really know,” he says weakly. “I thought, maybe, you wouldn’t be interested in me. We weren’t even in the same social circles.”

“Wouldn’t be interested in you...?” you repeat, clasping your fingers together and trying to steady yourself. Your heart is definitely racing right now. “Johnny, I…”

“You don’t have to give me an answer now,” Johnny rushes out. “O-or ever? I just...wanted you to know, I guess...since we’ve met up suddenly and I don’t know if we’ll have this chance again—”

“I...I like you too.”

Johnny’s quiet for a few seconds, registering what you’ve just said, and then he grins widely. “Aww, you like me—that’s so cute!” He grasps your hands as he says this, and you give him a disbelieving look.

“Wow, really?! You’re the one who just confessed to me!” You can’t stop yourself from giggling, though, as he brings your hands to his lips and kisses them all over. “How am I gonna deal with you?”

“You’ll just have to figure it out, ‘cause I’m all yours now.”

The moon is out by the time Johnny takes you back to your place. He insists on walking you to the door even though it’s only a few feet away, and you indulge him on it because you definitely like the extra time being in his presence.

“I’m glad you came out with me today,” he tells you, his eyes warm.

“I’m sure you are, you got a whole girlfriend out of it.”

Johnny smirks at that, leaning into you. “Does this count as our first date, then? Because if it does, there’s something else I want to show you...”

“And what would that be?” you ask Johnny, leaning closer to him in answer to his increased proximity. His response is to close the gap between you, his lips meshing themselves with yours. He kisses you like that for a while, not wanting to let you go, though you eventually have to part to catch your breath.

“Your lips were cold! Felt like I was kissing a vampire at first.” Your breaths puff out in front of you as you say this, laughing lightly. Johnny leans forward and you think he’ll kiss you again, but he tucks his face into the side of your neck, pulling your scarf down, and places a kiss there. You shiver a little at your neck being exposed to the cold, but also for reasons more related to the sensation of his lips on you.

“Does this remind you of a vampire, too?” Johnny murmurs, kissing his way up from the side of your neck to your cheek.

“You’re crazy.” You push his chest, though he pulls your arms to keep you close to him. “You’re gonna get us arrested for public indecency. Have you had enough yet?” You giggle, giving in to his efforts and wrapping your arms securely around his neck.

“Not yet,” he says, pecking your lips again with a smile. “Gotta make up for lost time.”

#nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #johnny scenarios #johnny imagines #johnny suh #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct 127 fic #nct fic #ambw #ambw kpop #ambw scenarios #ambw imagines #johnny fluff #ambw fluff

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nbrook29 · 3 years

Text

So a few weeks ago, @foxsake5 sent me one of those dialogue prompts, and at the time I wasn’t taking them anymore but since she’s the sweetest I just couldn’t say no 😌💖

I’m sorry for the wait, I hope this isn’t awful :)

Therefore, ladies and gentlemen:

159. [text] Also, my bed has glitter in it for reasons I do not recall.

***

The hopes he had late last night of waking up with all his symptoms miraculously gone vanish seconds after he wakes up and gets aware of his surroundings.

His head still feels like it’s full of cotton, eyes sting and itch at the same time, and his nose being all stuffy is the proverbial cherry on top of his misery. Before he can fully grasp this truly pathetic situation he’s in, he feels the beginnings of a sneezing fit brewing in his nostrils and sure enough, a moment later all hell breaks loose.

When he finally finishes, his chest aches with the effort and he drops his head back onto the pillow, whining at the unfairness of it all.

Every year, it’s the same story. Spring comes, trees and flowers release tiny grains to fertilize other plants and Robbe is doomed. He’s so fucking doomed. April barely arrives and he turns into a sneezing, itching, coughing, swollen mess. It’s not pretty. Far from it actually.

He curses himself for being stupid and believing he was cured after last year’s very mild case. Thinking about it now, it was probably due to being forced to stay in the house for the entire month more than anything. All his hopes of battling this fucking thing forever are now officially gone. His disappointment is immeasurable, his day is ruined.

And, Sander’s not here.

Why is he not here.

Why isn’t he lovingly stroking his brow to ease his sinuses pressure like he did last night.

He’s gonna have to have a serious conversation with his boyfriend because this is just unacceptable behavior.

Tugging the duvet tighter around himself to prevent the chilliness of the room from touching on his toasty warm body, he reaches for his phone. When Sander’s beautiful face welcomes him from his screen background, he yearns for his comforting presence even more. Yes, he’s being a tad dramatic, but sick Robbe has always been a drama queen, needing care and attention. Mama Ijzermans always laughs at him, saying he turns into a five year old when down with a runny nose. There may be a bit of truth to that statement, Robbe is a man enough to admit that. He just really hates having to blow his nose every ten seconds and all that, okay? Sue him.

Just as he’s about to start typing, his eye catches something flickering in the sunlight on Sander’s pillow. Frowning, he shifts closer to inspect it and discovers sprinkles of glitter covering the bottom half, and it’s honestly barely detectable, but for Robbe’s skilled eye it’s no hardship.

Weird. Unless he somehow missed the fact that Sander turns into a sparkly unicorn every night at midnight in the last year and a half, there’s no reasonable explanation for glitter being in his bed.

He decides to leave it be for the time being and goes back to the job at hand.

R: Where are u and why aren’t u here

S: Hello to you too, love of my life, light of my day

R: ☹️

S: I had to run home cause I forgot I promised my mum I'll be there when the couch delivery comes

R: That's a very elaborate excuse for you abandonning me

I won’t hold it against you if you decided to leave me after being faced with my gross snotty self :(

S: You’re not gross

R: I don’t believe you

S: Okay you’re a tiny bit gross rn but I'm not afraid of your snot 💪🏻

I'll be back in 40 minutes x

R: I'll try to survive til then 🥺

I miss you 🥺

I need your cuddles 🥺

I miss your fingers in my hair, my head hurts less then 🤧

S: You're so sweet when you're all sniffly 😂

R: That's cause I need you to get your butt here faster

S: I'll try my best

R: Okay :(

Hey sander?

S: Yeah?

R: My bed has glitter in it for reasons I do not recall

S: 😶

R: Why is there glitter in my bed

S: Idk

R: I hate glitter

S: Maybe it's the allergies making you see things

R: 😠 what did u do why is there glitter in my bed????

S: Gotta go the delivery guy is here love youuu

R: SANDER!!!

***

When he wakes up next time his head is still stuffed, but the feeling of warmth coming off Sander’s body and his hand playing with his hair makes it that much bearable. Scooching closer, he wraps his arm around his waist and buries his face into his black t-shirt, hoping the graphical form of Freddie Mercury in the front of it won’t mind much if he messes it with his runny nose by accident.

“I bought croissants on my way over, and there’s hot lemon tea waiting for you in the kitchen. Do you feel like getting up?” Sander asks in a gentle tone, hand stilling where it felt so good on Robbe’s scalp.

And no, he doesn’t really feel like it. So he decides to use the power of his eyes on Sander and rests his chin on his chest, giving him a pleading look that he knows his boyfriend is far from being immune to.

“Bring it here?”

Sander regards him for a second like he’s searching for a strength inside him to say no to him, but very quickly he gives up, head shaking at himself as his fingers resume the ministrations in Robbe’s hair.

He lets out a deep sigh. “I’m such a pushover, aren’t I?” And Robbe knows he won because there’s a smile tugging at Sander’s lips and a moment later, he disentangles himself from Robbe’s grabby arms, heading to the kitchen for their breakfast.

They eat in bed, sitting side by side, shoulders brushing as they keep reaching for the goodies on the tray balanced on Sander’s thighs. Robbe has his feet tucked under his calves, his extra clinginess during sick time coming out in all force, but Sander doesn’t comment on it, just smiles and kisses his temple, looking like he doesn’t mind to be his personal teddy bear for the time being. He lets Robbe lie half on top of him when they watch silly youtube videos and draws mindless patterns on his back as his arm is probably asleep from being stuck in the same position. His fingers make goosebumps rise all over Robbe’s body and he must be thinking the shiver is the result of cold because he then meticulously tucks the comforter around him, making sure Robbe is burrito-like and safe from cold.

It’s the first time Robbe has been somewhat under the weather since they got together and he melts at every caress and gentle touch that Sander provides without even thinking about it and just in general being this five star on booking.com thoughtful boyfriend.

So yeah, Sander is passing this when-in-sickness exam with flying colors, Robbe thinks, as he leaves a few kisses on what looks like Freddie Mercury’s hair, reveling in Sander’s content sigh.

It’s an all around peaceful afternoon, except when the peace is occasionally broken with sneezing, blowing (only nose, damn it) and groaning in displeasure. Sander is taking it all like a champ, teasing him only a little and handing tissue after tissue, his face twisting at the grossness of Robbe’s state only a few times. Mostly, he just squeezes him tighter, scratches his back in that way he likes, kisses the pout out of his face despite the gross factor and makes him a fresh tea.

He even cooks him a soup when Robbe naps out of things he finds in Robbe’s mom fridge, leaving Robbe himself gaping at him in astonishment, more so when the soup actually turns out good, because he had no idea Sander could cook something more than croques.

The confession earns him a light jab in the ribs, light because Sander is still considerate of his state, but jab indeed because he will not stand for Robbe disbelief in his cooking skills, hell no. Robbe then keeps moaning in pleasure at the taste of every single spoon of the tomato soup to show his gratitude (and because it’s really good) and Sander rolls his eyes at him, but there’s a pleased smile on his face that lets Robbe know his ruffled feathers have been smoothed.

When they get back to just simply lounging around in bed with Robbe breathing (wheezing) loudly as he plays with Sander’s fingers, he remembers something.

Propping his head with his hand, he narrows his eyes at Sander. “So what about that glitter?”

The guilty look that immediately blooms on Sander’s face leaves him with no doubt that it was his fault. He thumps his chest in frustration.

“I’m sorry! I just, I was kinda bored after you fell asleep so fast last night, and, um, I bought some new paints yesterday,” he explains, wincing at Robbe’s growing frown. He scratches his head before he continues as if to delay the fallout. “And I wanted to try them out a bit and some of them might have contained, um, glitter in them?” he ends in a squeaky voice, waiting for Robbe to blow up, because he’s well aware of his burning hate for glitter.

It’s like herpes. Once it’s on you, it never goes away.

“I can change the sheets later?” Sander adds wide-eyed, buttering him up as he leans in to kiss him once, twice, three times, until the scoff on Robbe’s lips melts completely.

He could get mad, but Sander has been so sweet today and he’s looking so apologetic now, like he’s actually afraid Robbe may throw him out the door for this unfortunate incident of bringing that abomination into his house. The idea is so ridiculous it makes him giggle, and at first, Sander’s confused, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but when Robbe doesn’t stop, he scoffs at him and pouts.

“Ugh, you made me believe you’re gonna yell at me and put a ban on sex for a month or something, jerk.”

He folds his arms all petulant as Robbe keeps rolling in bed, laughing, but then the sneezing fit abruptly stops Robbe’s fun and he sits up straight, letting out one sneeze after another, losing count after the eighth one. He thinks he got to twenty in the end, his new record, and when it’s finally over he feels so miserable and achy he doesn’t feel like laughing anymore. His eyes are so watery it feels like they’re gonna spill out any second now, nose rubbed so red it’s painful to even breathe and cheeks burning hot from the congestion.

Sander keeps handing him tissues, holding the waste bin in his other hand, and Robbe must look really awful because all signs of sulking are gone from his now sympathetic face as he gathers him into his arms, whispering sweet nothings into his hair as Robbe hides his face in the crook of his neck to keep his frustration tears at bay.

Sander is graceful enough to not say anything when a few escape anyway.

“Maybe you should see a doctor, huh?” he suggests after a while, hand stroking Robbe’s arm. “Maybe he will give you something?”

Robbe shakes his head, his voice raspy when he replies. “It’s no use, the doctor is gonna give me stuff that’s gonna make me drowsy. I just need to get over those first few days, it always gets better afterwards.”

He gets a lingering peck to his forehead. “Okay.”

“Thanks for being so amazing.” Robbe looks at him with sincerity from under his droopy lids, thumb sweeping under his eye in caressing motion. Sander just smiles, shaking his head a little as if Robbe’s gratitude is silly.

“You’re always there for me when the situation is reversed, right?”

And they both know he’s not talking about allergies, of course he’s not. No more words are necessary as Robbe considers him for a few seconds, love shining in his bloodshot eyes before he shifts closer to place a kiss on his chin and then snuggles to him as close as humanly possible, his heart full when Sander does the same.

Robbe’s eyes sting too much for them to keep watching anything on their phones, but they’re also too lazy to get up and actually do something and they’re not yet hungry enough to think about preparing dinner. So to kill time, Sander quizzes him about Bowie and his lyrics, the year and a half of them being a couple pretty much skyrocketing Robbe’s knowledge about this man, so he knows the answers to 3/4 of the questions, Sander's eyes gleaming with pride as he pretends to wipe the imaginary tear making Robbe giggle and forget about his state for a while.

Eventually, Sander’s calming and sweet like honey voice lulls him to sleep, and the last thing he registers as he’s losing the fight to keep his eyes open is Sander chuckling as he promises him quietly to paint him in all of the intense colors of those glittery paints he owns soon and there’s nothing he can do to stop him.

#wtfock

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somedayillfindit · 3 years

Text

C!Beeduo Actually Talk About Their Feelings

i know it’s crazy

they basically talk after the last lore stream where they like fought?? ish?? idk. they like communicate.

slight warning because tubbo’s not the most canonically mentally sound, and so there’s so his pov is a little heavy on the self-hatred and catastrophizing

anyway enjoy!!

Tubbo is laying on the floor, sketching a design for some project he’s probably working on, and trying to ignore the dread coiling in his gut.

Michael is laying next to him, studiously coloring in every square on a piece of grid paper with a different crayon.

Tubbo is trying to remember to breathe.

There’s a familiar knock on the door. Three quick raps, more of a formality at this point. It’s Ranboo.

“Papa!” Michael squeals, scrambling to his hooves and trotting to the door. He has to stand on his tiptoes to reach the handle.

Tubbo takes a deep breath.

Ranboo steps into the house. He does not look at Tubbo.

Instead, he swoops Michael up, spinning him up towards the rafters as he shrieks with joy.

“I missed you,” Ranboo says, smiling, pulling Michael close and speaking into his hair. Tubbo considers crying.

“Hey,” Ranboo mumbles to Michael. “Can you run upstairs and brush your teeth? Dad and I need to talk for a bit.”

“Gotta brush Chickie’s teeth too Papa,” Michael explains. Ranboo nods.

“Yeah, gotta make sure Chickie’s teeth are brushed. I’ll be up to read you a story in a sec, ‘kay?”

“Promise?” Michael asks, his voice getting a little trembly. Ranboo’s eyes widen, before he pulls back to look Michael in the eye.

“Promise,” he says, serious. “It’ll just be a bit.”

Michael nods surely, let’s Ranboo kiss his forehead and set him down, and trots to the ladder. Tubbo is alone with Ranboo now, and he suddenly remembers why he’s dreading this visit.

“Hey,” Tubbo says, and cringes a little at how hoarse his voice is.

“You wanted to talk,” Ranboo prompts, and Tubbo winces again at how far from the soft voice he was using with Michael this is. Usually, Ranboo can’t help but be disgustingly fond with Tubbo, and while he teases Ranboo for it, he misses it achingly now.

“Yeah,” is all he says, and it’s a struggle to even get the monosyllables out. But he does it, and then he gestures towards the couch, silently inviting Ranboo to sit, even if it’s only to prolong the inevitable.

Ranboo sits, thankfully, and nods at Tubbo, as if to say “get on with it.” Tubbo takes a deep breath.

“Okay,” he says because he doesn’t know where to start. And Ranboo is avoiding his gaze, and Tubbo really doesn’t know what to do with that. He’s gotten so used to getting to look Ranboo in the eyes that the lack of it is palpable, and for some reason, that’s the final straw.

“I’m sorry, ok,” he blurts, “I’m sorry, I know you’re mad at me, and I know I fucked up, and I know I deserve it, but I don’t- fuck, I don’t know exactly why you’re mad, and I know that’s dumb, and I probably- I should know these things, but I’m not good at this whole- whole life partners thing, and I’m sorry, but please, if you’ll just tell me why you’re mad, I’ll fix it because I hate this. And- and I want to fix it, and I just- yeah.”

He stops talking then, because what else is he going to say? That he misses Ranboo? That it physically hurts thinking about life without him? No. Fuck no. He’s being stupid and gross and selfish, making this all about himself, about how he feels, when Ranboo is obviously upset.

He doesn’t look up at Ranboo even though he’s done talking, because he doesn’t want to see if he’s angry. He wrings his hands instead. Usually, Ranboo would take his hands now, smooth his thumb over his knuckles, maybe press a kiss to the heel of his palm. He doesn’t.

“Tubbo,” he says instead, and his voice sounds resigned and pained and soft all at once and Tubbo is going to cry. “Tubbo.” He says it again, like he can’t help it. “I’m not- I’m not mad. At least not mostly. I just- I think we’re on different pages. About this. Us. About us.”

The floor drops out from under him.

Different pages. They’re on different pages because Ranboo doesn’t love him. What else could it possibly mean? Ranboo’s just in this for tax benefits, and for Michael. He doesn’t feel the same and Tubbo went and got all attached and clingy again, and he thought that the marriage was enough, that it was enough to get Ranboo to stay, but maybe now that he’s realized how pathetically needy Tubbo is he’s realized he can do better, and he’s leaving he’s leaving and it’s probably for the best.

Tubbo breathes in. He breathes out. If Ranboo wants to leave, Tubbo isn’t going to stop him. He won’t cry or beg or manipulate, because Prime knows Ranboo deserves better than that. He nods.

“Okay,” he says, and his voice is so small. He can’t bring himself to try again. “If you don’t want me- or this, or whatever, that’s okay.” He tries for a joke, and it just sounds miserable, “I mean, divorce exists for a reason.”

Ranboo doesn’t laugh. Tubbo braves looking up at him through his fringe. He doesn’t look angry. More like confused. What?

“What?” Ranboo says.

“What,” Tubbo says.

“I don’t want a divorce?” Ranboo says, not sounding entirely sure.

“You don’t?” Tubbo asks, internally cursing the swooping hope that he can’t quite tamp down in his chest.

“No,” Ranboo says, sounding more certain this time. “I kind of though you wanted to divorce me?”

“What?” Tubbo says, because he’s not following this conversation at all anymore. “Why would I want a divorce?”

“Because,” Ranboo says, and now he’s the one wringing his hands. Tubbo resists the urge to reach out and hold them. “You sold the Cookie Outpost. And you seemed so, like, adamant that this was for tax benefits. And like, I get it if it is-” He sounds like he’s going to keep talking, but Tubbo isn’t going to let him.

“This wasn’t ever just for tax benefits, dummy, that was a joke,” Tubbo says. “We don’t pay taxes.”

“Yeah, but we might have to,” Ranboo says, like he’s not quite sure why he’s arguing.

“Okay, maybe, but I wanted to marry you so you wouldn’t leave me,” Tubbo says, quietly, because he sort of hopes Ranboo won’t hear it. “I don’t even know how taxes work. And I’m sorry, because I kind of manipulated you into this, and if you want out, I get it, but I do really mean it now,” he says, and he tries, just a little, to meet Ranboo’s eyes, because he should know how serious Tubbo is. “I want to be married to you, and I want to spend my life with you.”

Ranboo looks up at him through his eyelashes.

“Really,” He breathes, like it’s foreign and impossible.

“Really,” Tubbo says, because it’s so true.

“Oh,” Ranboo says. “But you said- you said you’re happy now. Like more happy than you’ve been since L’manberg, now that you have this job with Quackity.”

“Yeah?” Tubbo says, because he doesn’t quite get why Ranboo would be upset about that, unless he had managed to convince himself that he didn’t make Tubbo happy. “Wait. Fuck. Ranboo.”

“What?”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t make me happy,” Tubbo says, and he reaches out and takes Ranboo’s hands, just to drive the point home. “You make me so happy. You and Michael and our little family? I can’t- I don’t know how to explain how happy you make me. I’ve just been going fucking insane here, playing with Michael and building nukes. I needed something to do, to like put my energy into. Not because you don’t make me happy, but because I’m fucking bored. I’ve had too much time to myself, and that makes me all paranoid and shit. Get lost in my head. I just needed to get out. Not because of you. Because of, like, everything else.” He squeezes Ranboo’s hands, to make sure he’s listening. “You make me happy, okay?”

“Okay,” Ranboo says, a little shaky. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Tubbo says, because he is.

“Okay,” Ranboo whispers. “You know you make me happy too, right?” He asks, in that fond, soft, sappy voice that makes Tubbo feel all melty.

“Yeah,” he says, trying to pretend like he isn’t blushing.

“Yeah,” Ranboo echoes, grinning at him. He meets Tubbo’s eyes, reaching up to push some hair off of his forehead. “Let’s go put Michael to bed?”

“Okay,” Tubbo says, and pulls him to his feet.

#this has been in my drafts for like a month #I thought it would be outdated really soon after i started it so i would have an excuse not to post it #but then the great lore drought happened #and i had plenty of time to procrastinate and still finish this #so um #yeah #here it is #writing that is mine #thats the tag if i hate it ill change it #tubbo #ranboo #c!tubbo #c!ranboo #dsmp #dream smp #im not second guessing this anymore hitting the post button

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erectionsandtea · 3 years

Text

OKaY GuYS, listen, I'm sorry to do this but I need to get this out bc I can't sleep bc it's bugging me so much, okay?

I want to say a few things to people who claim that mileven is fake/not in love/toxic in ST3 (and I don't mean byler/byeler fans specifically, jsyk), things that have probably been said before but I'm going to say them again anywah

Sorry in advance

1) I DON'T CARE if you think 14 year olds can't be in love. I'm not watching ST for its realism, I just want my babies to be happy

2) "mike and eleven's break up was so colorful and upbeat, so clearly they don't love each other" pREpARE tO BE TOLd

Eleven knows next to nothing about relationships, and most of what she DOES know (if not everything) she learns from max in those moments when max is convincing her to dump mike. Max tells el that she's dumped lucas like five (5) times, and he has always come crawling back. With how little el knows, she's probably thinking that's what will happen with Mike, she will dump him and he will come crawling back and all will good and whatever

"mike doesn't love el cos he didn't cry when she dumped him, also he just sits around in the basement eating cheetos and burping at lucas" while true, it could very be because MaYBE This dumping came out of NOwHERE, literally nowhere. They hadn't fought (yet), everything was fine (or so mike thinks), and then out of nowhere he just gets dumped?? Maybe he was just so shocked and confused that he wasn't registering it at first, mAYbE he was in denial, idk!!

Also I'm sure mike doesn't love el bc he doesn't spend the entire rest of the season trying to figure what he did wrong ,what's wrong with her, and trying to win her back, oh and also caring for and about her even tho they are still broken up Oh WAiT-

3) "mike doesn't love el, he loves will bc" etc, other stuff in s3 -> are we just ignoring that fact that mike is literally ignoring will a lot of the time bc he's stuck on el, I'm sorry but of our boy loved will maybe he would have stopped to play dnd with him

4) pleaSE zTOP comparing mileven's breakup to mike and Will's fight outside castle byers in the rain. They are not the same and shouldn't be compared like they are (and I am NOT saying that mike doesn't care about will at all or anything bC OFC He DoES)

5) mike literally does that cliche movie trope thing where he blurts out his feelings for el without even thinking or before he realizes what he's doing "I love her and I can't lose her again!" You can see the shock on his face after he says it, that shit isn't planned, it was spontaneous which often (THO NoT AlwayS I AdmIT) means it's true/real in tv and movies

6) "if mike loves el, why doesn't he say it back at the end of the season?"

*ahem* fIRST of all, because he already said it! SeCOnD of all, when she says it, she says "I love you too". You don't say it back to the person who is saying it back after you already said it once. It would just sound awkward. It doesn't matter that they both said it at different days/times, they can still both mean it

7) "why does mike avoid saying his feelings when el confronts him at the end?"

Picture this: you blurted out your feelings to the world, and then you find out mAYBE the person for whom you feel has heard it, but you don't know for sure, and they don't say it back. Then that person confronts you about saying it. AND you're a fuckin teenager!! You're probably going to be awkward and weird about it, and you might try to pretend you have no idea what they're talking about bc maybe if they don't feel the same way, you can just brush the whole thing off as a joke or pretend it never happened

8) "mileven's relationship is toxic/unhealthy, all they do is make out" -> they. Are. Teenagers. They're probly horny as fuck, aLSO who's to say they didn't talk and get to know each other over the MaNY mONthS separating seasons 2 and 3? You can't say, I can't say, we don't know, not to mention they did get to know each other (EVEN IF JuST A liTTLE bIT) during season 1, remember? You honestly expect me to believe that horny teens won't be all over each other at every fuckin opportunity?? Please

"well max and lucas weren't making out all the time" well max and lucas could be at a different stage of their relationship, couldn't they, they haven't know each other QUITE as long, haven't been through QUITE as much trauma together...see what I'm saying?

"neither mike or el spend any time with anyone else, their relationship is so unhealthy" um yes they do, after they break up their time together gets quite limited okay, and I will agree with you that I think they needed some of that

9) and maybe, MayBE mileven won't be endgame, okay, it is possible, but I will not sit here and pretend that the reason they are not endgame is because they don't care about and love each other

EDIT: 10) "el isn't ready for a relationship" maybe so but y'all think will is?? (Okay this one may be directed at byler/byeler)

Will basically went from pre-pubescent to puberty without properly transitioning between the two, because he was either missing, possessed, or suffering from ptsd for like two years!! And when he's finally okay (mostly), all he wants to do is pretend things are how they used to be. He's not interested in relationships or love or whatever, poor boy just wants to play dnd and not worry or think about stupid grown-up stuff

The last thing he needs (imo) is MORE drama from a relationship. What he needs is someone to just be there for him.

I know, I'm a bitch, byeler/byler shippers will hate me (if they don't already) or maybe everyone hates me

But

I'm just tired

You can't just claim a ship is real or not but at the sAME TIMe ignore crucial details or facts okay ? (I mean okay, I guess you can, but like why??)

I am going to bed now, of I think of anything else to say, I will add it in the morning, and I am ready for the hate

❤️

#stranger things #mileven #once again will not tag byler/byeler #im not that fuckin cruel to push it in their faces like that or something #ship who you want #im just trying to say you cant ignore details and then claim truth #also i need to rewatch s3 so lmk if i got anything wrong #❤️#goodnight #are watching the same show i feel like we're not #st3 #me trying to counterpoint every single pro-byler argument i see lol #im terrible

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wazzupmrstark · 4 years

Text

breaking curfew [part eight] || th x reader

A/N: day idk of quarantine. time is meaningless.

Summary: When you got the job to be a counselor at the summer camp you’d grown up attending all your life, you expected to see some familiar faces. But you certainly hadn’t counted on having to work alongside the boy who had made it his life’s mission to make your life a living hell every summer. In fact, you thought you’d never have to see Tom Holland again. But he’s is in the cabin right across from yours with campers of his own- smirk, jawline, and all. If you didn’t know any better you might’ve thought that he applied for the position just to spite you, but who were you kidding? What kind of asshole would do something like that?

Warnings: swearing, prescription drugs, alcohol mention, anxiety mention

What I listened to while writing: the breaking curfew playlist by @cinnamon-roll-peter + CALM by 5sos

Word Count: 2.4k

Series Masterlist

You’ve only been x-rayed twice in your entire life- not counting regular trips to the dentist- before now. Once when you thought you broke your ankle, (but it was really just sprained) and another time when you had pneumonia. Still, neither of those times had been quite as intense as this. Maybe that was because your mom wasn’t with you like she had been before. Or maybe it was because Tom, the boy who was pretending to be your boyfriend, the one that had just undressed you minutes ago, was standing just a few feet away behind the glass. Or in all honesty, maybe it was because you were hopped up on codeine, but who could say?

The x-ray technician draped the lead apron over you and told you to hold your breath while she ran back to operate the machine. She had you lay in a few different positions and had a nurse help her move your arm gingerly each time to lessen the strain on your end.

It was a painful process, but they moved as fast as they could so that you were back in your room within a few minutes.

“How’re you feeling?” Tom asked as he sat back in the plastic chair by your bedside.

“Kinda dizzy.”

“Yeah, you couldn’t walk five steps without running into a wall, I practically had to carry you back here.”

“Fuck off!”

“Glad the pain meds haven’t completely altered your personality,” he said, shaking his head.

“I feel a little nauseous too,” you added and rolled your neck uncomfortably.

Tom sat up a little more, eyebrows raised in concern. “Are you going to throw up? Do I need to get someone?”

“It’s probably fine,” you shrugged.

“I don’t know about that... you took those meds on an empty stomach- and that’s probably why you’re smashed to hell too.”

“It’s fiiine, Tom.” You yawned. “I just wanna nap.”

He chuckled and pulled the sheet that had been gathered around your waist up to your shoulders and laid it gently over them.

“That seems like a good idea.”

“Okay, good night.”

“Good night, y/n.”

It felt like you blinked and you were being shaken awake again. You groaned and attempted to sit up on your elbows, cursing when you tried to put pressure on your injured arm.

“Easy, easy,” Tom said, helping you lay back down on your back. “Um, the doctor’s here, babe.”

“Babe?” you wondered aloud, still clearly disoriented as fuck.

“Yeah, love. He’s here to tell you about your arm.”

Tom was pretending to be your boyfriend. Right. That made a lot more sense. Why else would he call you babe?

The doctor introduced himself to you and Tom and talked briefly about what he was looking for in the x-rays as he set them up in the light display for you both to see.

“So the bad news is that your arm is broken,” he explained, and you felt your heart sink even though you knew it was coming. “But the good news is that it’s just a minor fracture- barely visible on your radius there. It’ll only take about four to six weeks to heal in a cast, and you’ll be good as new.”

You bit your bottom lip wilted visibly. “Six weeks? The summer will be over by then!”

“It shouldn’t be an issue, unless you’re involved in a super active sport or-”

“We’re camp counselors-” Tom said abruptly, irritation at the edge of his voice.

“Oh, yes well you might run into some complications, but you should still be able to do most everything. Even with a cast.”

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely,” he nodded. “I’ll print out a couple pamphlets and some other literature for you on how to care for your arm and cast and etcetera, and you should be fine.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“I’ll also prescribe you some pain killers. Probably not as strong as the codeine they gave you earlier, but a lighter dosage for a few days before switching to extra-strength ibuprofen might help you get back into the swing of things.”

You just nodded, not really understanding any of the words he was saying. You hoped Tom absorbed more of it than you did because you were honestly checked the fuck out.

“I’m just going to grab the plaster and gauze for your cast and I’ll be right back. What’s your favorite color?”

“Orange,” you said without a second thought.

Tom waited until the doctor was gone before giving you a confused look. “Why’d you say that?”

You gave him the same look back. “What do you mean?”

“Orange isn’t your favorite color.”

“Says who?”

“Your favorite color’s always been green.”

“H-how’d you know that?”

“You really think I don’t remember you cheating your way onto the green team at mega relay every summer?”

“I would not cheat!” you argued.

“You’re supposed to pick a headband out of the box randomly! I don’t think peeking through your fingers and conveniently grabbing a green one every single time counts as random.”

“Well you don’t have any evidence, so good luck proving that in court.”

Tom held his hands up in surrender. “Damn, who said anything about court?”

“I just like being prepared.”

“But wait, why did you get orange?”

You shook your head absentmindedly and shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s Theo’s favorite color. I thought she’d like it.”

“That’s... really sweet.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Holland. I can be nice sometimes.”

“Didn’t know you had it in you.”

Before you could say anything snarky back the doctor came back in with a written prescription and everything he needed to set and wrap your arm. You tensed and looked away as he set to work on it, using an alcoholic wipe to sanitize your hand and forearm before wrapping it.

“You can hold her other hand if you want, Tom,” the doctor said, probably thinking that would reassure you, even though in reality it made you way more anxious.

You had reached for his hand just a few minutes ago, unprompted. But in your defense, you were very out of it. You were still out of it now, but the thought doing it again was ironically making your hands sweat. You guys didn’t really know each other... like that, and even though it was just pretend it felt weirdly intimate.You wouldn’t blame him if he stayed put where he was.

But to your surprise, Tom didn’t even hesitate before grabbing your hand and interlocking his fingers with yours. His palm was a little clammy too, which was a relief. You didn’t want to be the only one with a sweaty hand and gross him out or something, even if you were the one in agonizing pain.

You squeezed tight as your arm was moved into position for the cast. It hurt like a bitch and for a hot second the nausea returned and you thought you might pass out.

“So, how did you guys meet?” the doctor asked casually as he worked. “Tom, if I’m not mistaken you’re English? And y/n you’re not? How did that play out?”

“We met at work,” Tom said without missing a beat.

You were kind of taken aback by how seriously he was taking his role. It really didn’t matter if he was actually your boyfriend or not, it’s not like he’d get kicked out if they found out he wasn’t.

“At the summer camp?”

“Yeah, it’s really well-known for its international program. We get a lot of campers from all over.”

“Ah, that makes sense. Are you long distance during the year then?”

You and Tom traded looks with each other. Why did you have to get stuck with the chattiest orthopedic surgeon ever? Your fucking luck.

“We are, yeah.” Tom answered for you both again. “We trade off who visits who. We’ve both been in school so we don’t get to see each other very often, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“Summers must be nice then, no? You get to see each other all the time.”

He forced a chuckle. “You have no idea.”

The girls practically tackled you the second you got back to camp, and you were immediately bombarded with a chorus of “can I sign it? can I sign it?” from every single one of them.

“You can all sign it!” you promised. “After you brush your teeth!”

You had never seen them so excited to get ready for bed ever. They were almost giddy about it.

Your arm was still pretty sore, and the pills were starting to wear off, but you were glad to finally be back in your cabin. You couldn’t wait to knock the heck out and sleep for as long as possible.

The ride back from the emergency room had been much more peaceful than the ride there. Zendaya was a little pissed you’d disappeared from the waiting room without a word, she was mostly just glad you were getting to go home and rest. You ate your fries and chicken nuggets in the car, and accidentally ended up dozing off on Tom a few times, only to be jostled awake by bumps in the road.

And now that the day was winding down you could relax and spend some time with your campers.

“Me first!” Theo exclaimed, racing up to you with toothpaste still in her mouth. You laughed as she scribbled her name in jagged letters across your arm, putting a smiley face in the O. “We have the same favorite color!”

You didn’t have the heart to tell her so you just laughed and nodded. “Now, go spit your toothpaste out before you choke!”

May was next. She signed her name right where your pinky was, almost as if she was trying to hide it. Amalia wrote her name in cursive just above your elbow, Grace signed her name with a heart at the end right next to Amalia’s, and Eva scrawled hers on top of your hand at the edge of your cast.

You admired the girls’ masterpiece and showed it off to them. “What do you guys think?”

“It’s cool!” Amalia said, and the other girls added their agreements. “I’ve always wanted a cast!”

“Me too!” Grace chimed in. “Or crutches!”

“I think it’ll definitely make me stand out,” you said as you sat on the floor and settled against one of the bunks for your girls’ daily Good Night Circle.

“Maybe it’ll help you get a boyfriend!” Theo piped up, now wearing her big metal retainers.

“Or a girlfriend?” Evangeline pointed out very matter-of-factly.

The others were quick to jump on board.

“Maybe one of the other counselors will see it and fall in love with you!”

“Do you want a boyfriend or a girlfriend?”

“We could help you!”

“Yeah! My dad says I’m a really good matchmaker!”

“You girls are silly!” you said, sighing in exasperation. “I think it’s time for bed.”

There was less resistance than usual- maybe they were taking pity on you because you were broken- but there were still the typical whines and protests as you tucked them in.

“Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite!” you said in a singsong voice as turned off the lights and climbed into your own bed.

And you finally.... laid there staring at the ceiling. For hours. Despite being completely drained in every sense of the word, you couldn’t sleep. Your mind was racing and you couldn’t get comfortable with your arm bent at a weird angle. And were you remembering everything that had happened that day wrong- or had Tom actually helped you get undressed? And then get dressed? Had he really held your hand? Twice?

You wiggled your fingers as if the movement would replicate the feeling of his hand in yours, or give you an answer of some kind, but of course there was nothing. Just that same emptiness you felt in the pit of your stomach.

Realistically, you knew all of those things really had happened, and even if you couldn’t remember the specifics, you remembered the little things. Like the pink tint that highlighted Tom’s cheeks when he edged the straps of your swimsuit down your shoulders, or the rough calluses that had tickled your palms when you held hands with him. They reminded you that it wasn’t all some weird dream... or nightmare, rather.

You pushed your covers off, suddenly feeling very hot. You sat upright and took a few deep breaths to steady yourself, trying to force all the thoughts from your mind. Thinking about Tom in a positive manner was one of, if not the number one way your brain could betray you. Even barely brushing the subject had you breaking out into a cold sweat. The boy was really living rent free in your mind and not in a good way.

Everything felt wrong, and not for the first time this summer you wished you could pour yourself a drink. Maybe it wouldn’t help with any of your problems, but it sure would take the edge off.

Even though it was futile, you flopped back on your bed in the hope that sleep would have mercy on you and finally let you rest. You shut your eyes and tried a few of the meditation methods you’d learned from YouTube to make yourself sleepy, but even then you couldn’t shake the low buzz of anxiety that nudged at the back of your mind.

Fucking Tom Holland.

If you weren’t going to get any sleep you might as well waste time on your phone. You unlocked it, fought the urge to google ‘can you pass out if you punch yourself hard enough,’ and opened Twitter instead. You didn’t need to show up to breakfast with a black eye and a broken arm tomorrow morning.

Your eyelids were finally starting to feel heavy and the screen on your phone was getting dimmer and dimmer as you began to drift off when sudden knocking at your window startled you out of your half-asleep state.

The first thought you had was that someone was trying to break in, but then you remembered that you were at a summer camp and there was literally nothing valuable in the cabin so you let yourself relax a little bit.

When you squinted a bit, you recognized the figure on the other side of the glass and flicked them off with your casted hand, even though you were fairly sure they couldn’t see you sitting there in the dark. It was confirmed when they knocked again and you had to scramble to push open the window so they wouldn’t wake your campers- at this God-forsaken hour.

“What the fuck do you want?”

this one was tricky to get figure out but lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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purplesurveys · 2 years

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1327

Do you have mean comments that replay in your head and haunt you? Sure, sometimes. They usually start playing in my head when I find myself alone and not really thinking of anything; but at least I find it easier to brush off now.

Did you go Black Friday shopping this past Black Friday? We don’t have Black Friday but the closest thing we have our double-day sales, which we have every month. I don’t really take part in it as I don’t want to form the habit of putting shit on my cart just because a bunch of things are 90% off.

^If so, what was the best deal you got? None. People here moving fucking fast, man. Things sell out within seconds, which is another reason I don’t bother participating.

Have you ever seen a spirit? No. I’m not a believer.

Are you happy that the year is coming to an end? Not really? The excitement I usually get when welcoming a new year has mostly faded down. My 2021 also went well for the most part so I don’t have that feeling of waiting for it to end.

Have you ever bought a designer purse? I’ve never bought one, just gifted some.

What color was your senior prom dress? I had a beige dress for junior prom; then I also got asked to a senior prom, for which I wore a navy blue gown.

Would you ever consider a career in writing? I did in elementary school; I wanted to be an author. These days I am still into writing so the job I landed in requires a lot of it.

Have you ever purchased a YouTuber's merch? If so, what did you buy? No. Those are hardly accessible where I’m from, anyway. I remember wanting to get a bunch of GMM merch during my phase last year but I didn’t know how to get a hold of them since they’re based in the US, soooo I ended up not buying any haha.

Are you better at spelling or writing? Idk, I’d say both are my strong suits and I’m pretty particular towards either. But I guess I’ll go with spelling? just because I’m terrible at writing poems and fiction in general.

If someone signed you up for karate lessons, would you take them? If the sessions were already paid for and if I can attend with a friend, yes. I’m not passionate enough about it to take it up on my own.

What was the last movie you watched? Would you recommend it to people? I haven’t watched a movie in a while - can I name a TV show instead? Hahaha I watched Our Beloved Summer a week ago – the pilot was a bit of a drag so that might just turn people off for a bit, but Angela told me the next few episodes get a lot better so I still plan on continuing it.

Do you update your Facebook relationship status when it changes? I never touch that option and don’t plan on doing so just because of all the social media that exists, Facebook’s the hotbed for murmurings and gossip, especially among your own family members. Otherwise, I’m very open in my other accounts like Twitter and would talk about things like relationships there.

Do you want your own house someday? That’d be cool but it’s honestly not an ultimate goal of mine. I’d be perfectly happy staying in a condo.

Are you superstitious? I’m in the very tiny majority of Filipinos who aren’t.

When you go to McDonalds, what drink do you usually get? I don’t get any. I’m not a big beverages person, and I’m wary about the cleanliness of their service water haha so I typically would get water somewhere else.

Have you ever thought about your wedding? Sometimes.

Would you rather see Taylor Swift or Carrie Underwood in concert? Neither.

Growing up, did you see your cousins often? I lived with a couple of them for 10 whole years; then the others I would visit only every few months or so, so no, not very often.

Where was your first job at? The job I have now.

Ever seen your parents make out? I caught them once, when I was supposed to and thought to be asleep...so I can’t really blame them for that. I hated the image though and still do.

What’s your dream height and weight? I’d love to be 5′5″ or 5′6″, but I’m fine with my current weight.

What do you do when your house loses power? Turn on my data and contact our internet provider to ask what’s going on. After that I usually find myself going through my video roll to watch my saved TikToks hahahaha lol.

What piercing do you hate? Hate is a bit of a strong word, though I can’t say I’m a fan of nipple piercings.

Were you raised in a religious house? Yes. It did nothing for me, though. I’m pretty sure I was questioning the god they believed in as soon as I was capable of thinking for myself.

Do your parents get mad when your on the computer for hours? Surprisingly, no. They were fine with 11 year old me using the laptop til the ass crack of dawn; they had a bigger issue with me picking up profanity from the internet, which I ultimately got grounded for.

Have you ever been asked for a nude picture? Yes.

What’s your favorite thing about your crush/bf/gf? I don’t have a crush in real life.

What’s the worst thing?

What song can bring you down? O by Coldplay is triggering to this day; I don’t revisit it unless I purposely plan on ~feeling things.

What would you do if your parent hit you? [trigger warning: physical abuse] I’d be terrified as shit of my dad moving forward if he ever did...maybe even stop talking to him altogether since I’m pretty good at that anyway. My mom has been physical with me a few times, and as far as I remember I was unresponsive for the most part/I let it be.

Ever see yourself going to jail? Nah.

Last song you sang? Butter lol

Has the last person you kissed slept with more then 3 girls? Probably, at this point. I wouldn’t be surprised, nor bothered.

Ever been tested for any STDs? No.

Do you think it's weird when girls change in front of their bf/gf? No. And why does it have to be girls, specifically?

Get a new camera or new phone? PHONE. A fucking phone. My phone’s slow death finally came to a head last night and I cannot press shit on the screen anymore haha. I’ve used my laptop for everything today and this will be the case until I get a new one. I might get a secondhand phone with my next pay just to serve as backup while I save up for my legit next phone, because I can’t do my work smoothly without one.

Last person that saw you naked (can’t be yourself): Oh I have no clue. Probably my ex still.

Ever kissed someone half-naked? Sure.

Is being sweaty nasty? Yeah I hate it, especially if it’s humid too.

Are your parents embarrassing? They have the tendency to be Karens, especially my mom. So yes, they can be embarrassing – not always, but still.

Do you prefer dating a virgin? Or a guy who's been around? I don’t give a shit.

Are you blond? Nope.

Do you like bacon? Love it.

Do you have an annoying dog? Cooper can be annoying at times, I guess. He’s extremely hyper and gets excited/antsy from any passerby or passer-animal walking in front of the house.

What was the first comic book you ever had an obsession over? Was never into comic books. I tried, but I couldn’t get into it.

What is your favorite thing to do on your phone? Scroll through Facebook, watch YouTube, or play Rhythm Hive.

What color was your first phone? The case was red, but I don’t remember the color of the phone itself. Light grey, maybe? Older phones didn’t have much variety when it came to colors.

Was your first phone a flip phone? Nah, it was an even older model; but I also got to have a flip phone.

If you're a girl, have you ever had an embarrassing period story? Sure.

What was your worst experience in high school? Definitely being a loner.

How much did your senior prom dress cost you? Not much.

What dreams have stuck with you since childhood? Going to Wrestlemania 50. It’s not as intense as it used to be anymore, but it remains to be a goal I keep at the back of my head.

Have you ever been in a serious romantic relationship? Yeah.

Did you ever take your dog to school? I brought Kimi once, for my college grad shoot. I haven’t had the opportunity to take Cooper since, well, we got him during the pandemic.

If you had had a baby in high school, what would you have named him or her? This is so specific hahaha, but April or Audrey for sure. I remember loving those names in high school and wanting to name my kid after AJ Lee or Audrey Hepburn.

If you had a baby now, what would you name him or her? Olivia or Mia. Those have been my top picks for quite some time now. I barely think about boy names because I don’t want a son lol.

Have you ever seen someone throw up on a plane? I don’t think so, no. I’ve only seen that happen on that one episode of Mr. Bean.

Do you get motion sickness? Yep, especially in cars.

Has God ever healed you of anything? If so, what? I’d be lying if I said no...I keep forgetting that this is an Actual Thing that happened but I had an extremely brief phase in senior year high school where I sort of? reconnected? with religion? HAUFHUAIHDSKFHSDF this is so fucking gross to remember all over again but omg I remember dealing with shit that was happening back then a little easier because of it. Grossgrossgross. Thankfully I started college not long after and threw whatever that was that possessed me for a few months out of the window.

What is the most boring church you have ever attended? Idk, all of them.

What is the most lively church you have ever attended? Idk.

Do you find church fun or boring? Boring.

What do you hate the most about summer? Humidity and the unforgiving heat.

Which part of your body is the most muscular? I’m not muscular at all.

Did you ever take Latin in school? Nope.

Which major holiday is closest to your birthday? Easter Sunday, usually. Depends on the liturgical year.

What is your favorite Japanese name? Michiko.

Have you ever ran a cash register? Nope.

Did you collect Bratz dolls when you were younger? I didn’t collect dolls in general but holy fuck was I obsessed with Bratz, though. I brought a Bratz lunchbox and backpack throughout preschool, had a hundred Bratz tank tops, gave away Bratz-themed goodies at my 7th birthday party...it was really a Thing, lmao.

Do you think your mom is attractive? She is. She looks incredibly youthful for her age, too.

What was the last thing that disappointed you? I finally applied for a few leaves this week after 1) not missing a beat all year long and 2) both of my bosses begging me to “please take leaves and fucking rest, Robyn” only for both of them to be turned down; I was told it was because a lot of people at work are also already on leaves this week. I find it a ridiculous explanation buuuut I was too tired at the time to challenge it.

Do you like the feeling in your stomach on a big drop on a roller coaster? I fucking hate it, which is why I never go on rides.

Skeletons or scarecrows? Skeletons.

Do you own pumpkin earrings? Nopes.

What computer game did you used to play all the time? Diner Dash LOL

When was the last time you read a book? I can’t even remember.

Would you allow your children to date prior to 16? (assuming you want any) Sure.

What was the last restaurant you made a reservation at? I don’t normally have to do this but my friends and I did something similar recently, I guess? We planned to have Korean food delivered for the online BTS concert last October, only to find out that the restaurant we frequent started taking reservations for the first time for orders on the day of the show, precisely because they were expecting an influx of orders for said concert.

For context and additional appreciation lol, there had also been an online concert back in June – we ordered from them too but they didn’t have the reservation setup yet, so our order took FOREVER to come. Like literally, it came only when the show was already over hahahah so I guess they learned from that experience and introduced reservations so that incidents like this didn’t have to happen anymore moving forward.

Which app on your phone do you tend to get the most notifications from? Viber.

What is something you gave up on after many failed attempts? Embroidery, haha. I will forever be grateful to it, though. It served as therapy and comfort to my then-heartbroken self.

Do you watch political shows? Just The Crown, but I haven’t revisited it in a while.

Do you play any fantasy/roleplaying games? What? No.

Do you like salami? No.

When was the last time you ate meat? I had sisig for dinner, so.

What was the last hot drink you drank? I don’t take hot beverages; never learned how to enjoy them.

Have your parents met your boyfriend/exes? They have met her, but under the assumption that she was a best friend. I never introduced her as a girlfriend.

How about your boyfriend’s parents? Met them? I got to meet and be introduced as a girlfriend to my ex’s parents.

Do you know how to say I love you in at least 4 languages? Yeah - offhand I can think of 6: English, Filipino, Spanish, Korean, French, and German.

Do you find the sound of a cat's purr relaxing? No, I get tense lol.

Do you know your mum’s first pet's name? I do know it, I just can’t seem to remember it at the moment.

Would you ever want to be famous? If so, for what? I wish I was one of those vloggers that managed to strike gold and get lucky with having their videos and views take off, even though they just portray daily life haha.

Would you ever get a heart tattoo or your back? Nope.

What fruit can’t you stand? Mangoes, if they’re not in sushi.

Do you know anyone autistic? Yes.

How about someone bipolar? Yes.

What do you consider private to you? Traumatic stuff from childhood.

Name somebody you know who deserves a better life than they have: Street children.

Name something that you’re good at but don’t like: Neglecting myself lol...like not realizing I haven’t drunk water or peed until like, 10 PM. Happens a lot these days.

Name something that you’re bad at but DO like: I tend to not enjoy doing things I already know I’m bad at.

Name somebody who has tried to help you and ended up hurting you: My mom.

Name a date that has a lot of significance to you: April 7.

Name something in your life that was a blessing in disguise: Discovering BTS. Yeah I entered a black hole, yeah I've lost so much money investing in these boys’ merch...but they’ve made me immeasurably fucking happy this year. Absolutely changed my life for the better in 2021, it’s ridiculous.

Name something that you’ve done that would be considered rebellious: Attending rallies in college.

Name something you wish you had enough money to do: Afford food delivery everyday because I can’t cook.

#survey #surveys

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