#i really wanted to draw this idea but i had classes all day yesterday so i didnt have a lot of time to draw this

[thethingswedotomorrow]

Aziraphale and Crowley are both idiots, with a severe lack of common sense on any given day.

But these idiots were both tasked with watching and guiding the new humans God had created, for better or for worse. What they didn't realize was just how unprepared they both were for this task.

Before being sent out to Eden, they were BOTH given a crash course on the newest creatures, (humans??) roaming around the garden. Just the essentials, don't poke here, this does that, avoid this bit, this part leaks, etc.

Aziraphale's lesson was much more formal, only highlighting the parts of the humans that were deemed 'essential' by the Archangels

Having to sit through Gabriel explaining the purpose of a tongue for hours was enough to make anyone zone out, let alone a principality who had just been told that the place he was being sent to would be full of creatures that were filled with an odd combination of liquid at all times. Good Lord, how was he meant to protect these humans when they could explode at any time?

Aziraphale had checked out mentally by the time they started covering exactly what the eyebrows were for

Hell decided to take a more hands-on approach.

By hands-on, they meant having Dagon draw what they assumed a human might vaguely look like, and then explaining the best ways to torture the squiggly bits

Crowley spent most of the class trying to decide whether the drawing looked more like a horse or a soggy blanket crumpled into a pile

(Crowley had only recently learned about the 'horse' idea, and he was decidedly not impressed by them.)

(He could get behind this blanket idea, however. He'd have to check that one out in a few years.)

So once they'd both reached the Garden, and checked the place out for themselves, they both came to the same conclusion.

They had some SERIOUS questions about what was going on here

Naturally (and reluctantly for one of them), they gravitated towards each other. They both knew asking either of their sides would imply that they didn't pay attention to the classes. And neither of them wanted to have a repeat lesson, thank you.

"Ah, yes, hello, Crawley was it?"

"Obviously, still me. Be odd for me to be someone else, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, well. I was wondering..if you had..perhaps....noticed anything about these humans?"

"Noticed what? They're awfully boring. Told me 'get up there and make some trouble', but all they do is sleep and eat things and walk around. Made 'em trip a few times, but it got old by the 5th time around honestly."

"Well I don't think they're meant to do much more. If they were, then they would have. As is God's plan. Oh there is no need for dramatics Crawley."

It was at that point Crawley sighed VERY aggressively, flopped down onto a rather soft looking patch of grass, and looked up at Aziraphale.

"Was there a point here, Angel, or have you just come to preach?"

"I do wonder, however, if God was perhaps made aware of the issues in the hardware, as it were."

"What are you on about?"

"Yesterday, I saw Eve walking around, admiring all the plants and such. They really are truly beautiful, you know. Have you seen them yet?"

"Nah, haven't gotten over there yet. Mostly been hanging around on the rocks, very warm there. Why? What'd she do?"

"Well, she walked up to the flowers, and..then she just..sort of...." Aziraphale trails off, very hesitant about how to describe the situation.

"Sort of what?" Now Crowley is curious. Always been his downfall, that sort of thing.

"She just... she stuck her face into them."

"She WHAT?"

"Exactly! Stuck her face into them, no warning or anything. That poor, poor woman could have been killed. Who knows what those flowers will do to her tongue."

"HER WHAT?"

It was at this point that they both realized that they may not have gotten the same education on the humans and their anatomy.

"So, they aren't actually going to explode? Oh thank God."

"Well, I mean they could, I suppose. If you poked them enough, or shook them up really hard. Y'think we should try that?"

"Crawley, no."

Between both of them, they gathered enough information about the humans to have a general idea of what they should and shouldn't do to help them survive

(Crowley might enjoy watching them trip, but he's a Demon, not a monster. There'd be no point going and killing them right after they launch the whole program.)

It turned out that what they had gathered between Heaven and Hell was quite literally the bare minimum of human physiology.

They stuck together from then on, determined to find out everything they could about the humans.

The first time Eve sneezed after smelling the flowers, Aziraphale jumped up so quickly that he broke the rock he was using as a seat clean in half

Crawley and Aziraphale stood perfectly still on the wall, waiting for something else to happen.

All Eve did was sniff a bit and walk away.

Aziraphale turned to Crowley, eyes wide and full of terror. They both stared at each other for a few minutes before they both silently sat down, contemplating what they had assumed was a very near-miss explosion.

The next day, when Adam stepped into the pool of water at the edge of the Garden, the angel and demon watched with the utmost attention.

"D'ya think they can breathe in there?"

"In the water?"

"Yeah, those slimy things at the bottom seem to be doin' just fine without coming up top. Maybe the humans can do that too."

"Crawley, those are fish. The humans need the air to live. I think."

"Fiiiiiish? Fsh. Fiisssshhh. Nah, don't like that. Slimy things works better, who names these things? Was it you?"

"I'm afraid that was not my department, unfortunately. I like to think I would have gone with a different choice than 'fish', if I had any say in the names."

"Mm. He's been down there for a bit, yeah?"

"Who? Oh, him. Has he? Oh. Oh Lord, he has. Adam? Adam?"

One small miracle later, the humans and the non-humans had both learned that they did need the air to live.

The day Eve and Adam laughed together was a good day.

'What're they even laughin' at?" Crowley wiggles/walks* his way over to where Aziraphale is sat on the edge of the wall, watching the humans.

*He's still figuring out the whole leg thing, far too complicated if you ask him

"If I had to guess, I'd say they're laughing at the state of Adam."

"How'd he even get like that? Last I saw, he was running around near that pond, how's that happen? They were on your watch, Angel."

"Ah, while you went to look at the plants, he fell. Apparently when dirt and water mix, it becomes very sticky. Mud, I believe it's called."

"Blegh. Way to go Angel, I left for five minutes and you let him get all mud-ed. Looks awful, don't see why they're laughin'. They've always got somethin' stuck to em."

Despite his words, Crowley couldn't help but smile at the humans. Something so ridiculous and they stood there laughing at it, having all the time in the world to explore and find out new things.

Aziraphale noticed this, and smiled as well. Mostly because of the humans and how fond he was already of them

But also, at Crowley and a new type fondness for him, as well.

(Though it would take many, many years for him to admit that)

Crowley and Aziraphale sat and laughed, watching these new humans bumble around and laugh, being happy to just exist and discover everything there was to discover. If Crowley snuck glances at the angel while he was laughing, he'd never admit it.

Maybe tomorrow, Crowley thought, he'd see what the deal was with that big apple tree.

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable boyfriends #ineffable husbands #otp: ineffable #ineffable #good omens headcanon #good omens fic #crowley aziraphale #crowley good omens #good omens aziraphale #good omens crowley #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale good omens #ineffable spouses #ineffable idiots #ineffable partners #good omens headcanons #goheadcanons #crowly #crowly x aziraphale #crowley x arizaphale #aziraphel #aziracrow #aziraphale x crowly #good omens fluff #good omens hc #crowley and aziraphale

[ilovefakemilitarymen]

Deal with the Devil

~Professor!John Price x Student!Reader (Part Three)

____________________________

Read Part One Here: x - Part Two: x

Word Count: ~3.4K

CW: Minors Do Not Interact, NSFW, Smut, Inappropriate Teacher/Student Relationships, Sexual Tension, Praise Kink, Name Calling (good girl, sweetheart), not really much aftercare, AFAB Reader, She/Her Pronouns, Unsafe Sex

A/N: I thoroughly apologize for making people wait on this, have some good smut to make up for it! As always, if you think I should list something in the warnings please let me know!

The next morning, you wake up before your alarm goes off, and you take your time to just stare at the ceiling. The day before had felt like a dream and, in all honesty, you weren’t entirely sure it wasn’t. You can’t get the feeling of his rough hands on you out of your head.

It’s a problem of massive fucking proportions.

A problem so big that, by the end of this, you’re not sure the grade will even matter. You’re not sure if he’ll even have his job by the time the semester ends if this carries on, but, despite everything telling you no, your finger still hovers over his name on your phone.

It’s almost two hours before your first class with him. One hour before you probably should give him a call. You really can’t find it in yourself to care about whether or not he gets an extra hour of sleep.

Fuck it, you press your finger into the button, and the line is ringing. It does so for a couple of moments, and he doesn’t answer right away, but he does answer.

“Good morning, love,” The words roll off of his tongue, the sleep that coated his voice yesterday morning isn’t there but he’s breathing heavily. His words draw you in, letting you know, that yes, yesterday was in fact, real. It wasn’t a dream. “Did you sleep well?” The same question from yesterday, but his voice is dripping honey even through the receiver.

You had fully expected him not to pick up this early, but here he was, heavy breathing on the other side of the phone and calling you ‘love’. You run with it, his breath is sending heat straight to your core.

“I slept pretty well,” You say, and then a sick idea goes through your head and you’re nothing if not impulsive, so you let the extra words out, “Pretty wore out but I slept well.”

The chuckle he sends back to you makes a tingle run up your spine.

“I can imagine…” His voice trails off, and you can hear something in the background. You can’t place exactly what it is, but his breath comes out heavy. “What can I do for you this morning?”

Something sounds like metal clashing, coming through the receiver.

‘I just wanted to hear your voice.’

You don’t let that part slip, instead, you tell him about his schedule, “I just wanted to tell you that you have your morning class at about 10, and then what looks like a lot of free time before your evening class, around 3.”

“Thank you for the reminder, darling, but…” His voice drips from his lips, and he’s not holding back now, he repeats himself, “What can I do for you this morning?”

Your breath nearly catches in your throat, “O-Oh,” You stammer, the meaning of his words loud and clear. He hums, and he’s a smart man, he knows why you called him. Under the guise of telling him his schedule, he knows what you want. He knows what you need.

“Just keep talking…” Your voice is barely above a whisper. “What are you doing?”

You can hear the sound of a door opening, and then, after a couple of moments, can hear a car door shut.

He huffs a small laugh before he speaks and the sound of metal isn’t there anymore, but you get your answer to what it was, “Just at the gym, gorgeous…waiting for you to tell me what plans you have for all that free time that we have after class.”

“I have a couple of ideas…” Your voice is barely above a whisper, trying to steel your nerves.

“Is that so?” He sounds entertained, “What might those be?”

He’s a fucking menace. He wants you to say it. He wants you to tell him exactly what you want, and it sends electricity through your veins.

“Well…” You breathe out, “I was thinking you could bend me over that desk in your office.” The words come out, and you’re trying your best to feign innocence even though the words coming out of your mouth are anything but.

“I do enjoy the sound of that,” His voice comes out too normal across the phone, and it just spurs you on. He’s too in control, and you’re not sure if anything you say could ever get him to break his stoic attitude.

You decide to test him anyway.

“Want you to wrap your hands around my throat and fuck me till I can’t walk back to my dorm...sir…” You add on the last bit breathily, knowing it’ll just get him more excited.

He sends a light groan across the receiver, and you know you’ve got him. It sends your heartbeat to rest between your legs.

“I didn’t take you for such a slut, (y/n).” He seems proud of himself when he speaks, knowing he’s the entire reason for your words.

“Just for you, sir.”

He hums happily across the phone, and you finally let your hand come to rest against the arousal between your legs, but he cuts off the thoughts going through your head, edging you without even realizing it.

“I’ll see you in class,” He starts, and you know your time with him is over, “and then we’ll have some fun, darling.” You can hear his car start before the phone line cuts out and you can’t help but groan and toss your phone to the side.

He’s a menace.

But he’s a deliciously hot menace...

And two can play that game.

You move to get up and get ready, pulling a skirt out of a drawer and sliding it on before a devilish thought crosses your mind.

You slide your underwear off, tossing it to the floor before continuing to get ready.

------------

You cross your legs, hiding from him, but his eyes still rake over your form, taking in the expanse of skin on your legs. He turns from you quickly, hiding whatever response you had ignited in him. He’s at the front of the class, and in the middle of his lecture.

He writes on his whiteboard, and you take a moment to watch the muscles of his back, eyes following the curves directly down to his ass, and you take a moment, contemplating, before you finally decide to open your legs, leaning back in your desk chair.

It’s in nobody’s view but his, and you wait for him to finish writing and turn back to the class.

His eyes drop when he finally turns back around, moving exactly where you had wanted them to, and he clears his throat, eyes pulling from your exposure. He has a small smirk on his face when he starts talking again, and he’s nothing if not stoic.

You wanted to break him.

You wanted to watch the lust fill his eyes.

You keep your legs open for a moment, and his eyes dart back to you every so often, taking in every bit of your form. You close your legs while his eyes are on you, pulling your knees together and he turns back to the whiteboard, pointing, and you know there’s no reason for him to do so. He’s just trying to pry his eyes off of you before he snaps.

He finishes the point he’s making, that you have definitely not been paying attention to once again, but you can’t find it in yourself to care this time around.

“Alright,” He finally finishes up the class, “Do the reading.”

It’s all he can get out, waving a hand to the students, dismissing them. You look down at your phone to check the time.

Thirty minutes early.

You stay in your seat, keeping your legs closed and he waits patiently for the last of the students to file out of the room before he makes his way over to you. You try to ignore him, packing your things, but every cell in your body feels like it’s on fire.

“I bet you’re fucking proud of yourself, aren’t you?” His voice comes out low, nearly a growl when he finally speaks up.

Time to sell it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Your eyes find his as you speak, making them as big as possible as you look up at him.

He doesn’t say anything, just presses a foot into yours, kicking slightly so you’ll open your legs up for him again. He drinks you in now, and you let him for a moment before you close them again, moving to get up and bend over to put your things in your bag, giving him a pretty view.

You barely have a chance to grab your bag before he presses his hands into your hips, tugging you in the direction of his office. You let a sly smile grace over your features, following after him towards the back of the classroom.

The door clicks shut and you hear the lock, and you stride over, resting against the front of his desk, and he looks like a man starved.

“We might need to have a talk…” He speaks, walking with an air of confidence that would put you on your ass if you weren’t holding onto the edge of the desk, “About teasing me in class like that.”

He’s in front of you once he finishes his sentence, legs moving to spread yours further apart before he reaches for the edge of your skirt.

“Are you gonna punish me, sir?” You match his energy, words moving like silk when they finally fall out of your mouth. You give him a slight smirk, watching the way his eyebrows raise.

“I’m gonna do more than that,” There are mere inches between the two of you now, and all you want is his lips on yours.

He won’t give it to you just yet, though. His hands move to bring your skirt up, hands gripping your hips and moving to face you towards the desk as he throws the material to rest against your lower back, leaving your ass exposed to him. You brace your hands against the wood, and he pulls your hips up against his, and you feel his bulge for a moment before he pulls you away.

“I didn’t realize you could be such a fucking brat,” His words are dark and you feel his hand come down to smack hard against your ass, a sharp sound pouring into the room around you and you moan, pushing further into his hands. “We’ll fix that.” He speaks, his voice much closer to your ear now, and his breath fans against your neck before he pulls back further from you. His hand hits heavily against your other cheek now, and he rubs the area as it turns red.

His fingers move to barely press against your heat, making you shudder as he lands another smack to your ass with the other hand.

“So wet for me already,” His hand moves over your hip, trailing up until it rests nicely against your throat, “What’s got you so excited?”

His words are torture and everything in you just wants him to go ahead and split you open. Fuck the foreplay, you need him now.

“Y-You do…” Your voice breaks as it comes out, barely above a whisper as his hand gives your throat a gentle squeeze before moving to rest against your ass. He smacks against your ass again, rubbing the abused skin lightly.

“What was that?”

“You do, sir.” Your words come out louder as you try to press back into him, but his hands move to grip your hips in an attempt to keep you from moving.

“Good girl,” His words make a whine push itself out of your throat. It’s ridiculous how quickly he’s reduced you down to nothing.

“Your good girl.” Your words are thick with desire, and he chuckles, letting you push your hips back against him, no doubt making a mess out of the front of his pants.

“Yeah,” His hand lands another smack on your ass and you moan as it starts to tingle, “You’re my good girl.”

Your mind is fully clouded now, lust and pain, the sound of his voice and the feel of his hands are the only thing you can think about. You’re ridiculous. Nothing but a few smacks and your entire confident demeanor reduced to whining just for him.

He loves it.

His hands grip heavy on your hips as he pulls you back into him, raising you up off the desk before moving you to sit down on the top of the desk he moves between your legs, hands running across the expanse of your thighs before he’s picking the edge of your skirt back up.

“Hold it,” he speaks and you move your hands to grip onto the fabric as he drops his hands back onto your thighs. The roughness practically melts the soft skin as he moves to rub his thumbs against your inner thighs, close enough that you clench around nothing.

You’re absolutely dripping for him, and you finally break. “Please…” Your words are barely there, but you can’t help but try.

“Please?” He questions you, thumb barely grazing your clit before both of his hands rest against your exposed thighs, and it pulls a sound out of you that you didn’t realize you could make.

“Please, sir.” You look down at his hands, watching as he rubs the skin of your thighs.

“Tell me what you want…” He watches you, taking in the way your face shifts from pleasure to pain as he pulls his hands away from you. He gives in, moving to your clit as quickly as he had pulled away. He rubs circles into you, breaking you down piece by piece, and you let out a broken moan. You move your hands to the front of his pants, barely getting the button undone before he moves them. “Use your words, gorgeous.”

He holds your hands in his, the other continuing to rub against your clit.

“Fuck me...please,” You’re delirious, drunk on him and all he’s done is tease you, and you buck your hips into his hand.

“Such a good girl for me,” He speaks as he finishes undoing his zipper, pulling himself out of his pants and moving his hands to grip your hips before he pulls you closer to the edge of the desk, forcing you to lay back onto it. You’re spread out for him, legs hanging onto his hips as he presses the head against your clit, rubbing and watching the way your face contorts.

He presses the tip into you, and the stretch of being unprepared for him is drowned out by the sheer pleasure of finally having him, but it’s cut short as he pulls back away from you. You let out a sound that’s somewhere between a sob and a whine as he pulls the one thing that you’ve been craving away from you.

Your hands are moving of their own accord, slipping into his belt loops and pulling his hips flush against yours. It doesn’t put him where you want him, and in reality, makes your cravings for him even worse as the fabric of his pants presses into you.

He lets out a groan around his words, “That’s not how you get what you want, gorgeous.” He breathes out, and your own want is mirrored in his eyes. He’s pushing you, prodding at you until he has you crumbling under him, tearing you apart at your seams.

“Please,” Your words come out heavily, a deep whine pulling out of your chest as you throw your head back against his desk.

As soon as your attention is off of him, he pulls his hips away from yours, lining himself up and sinking into you. The stretch has a growl dragging out of your throat and his following words only push you further into the feral feeling in the pit of your stomach, “Such a greedy cunt...Isn’t that right, baby?”

It nearly has your eyes rolling into the back of your head, and the sound you let out is damn near pornographic, and you can only bring yourself to nod at him eagerly as he pulls his hips back, plunging back into you hard enough to push you further up the desk. His hands move, pulling your legs up and his hands grip onto your thighs and he pulls you back, dragging you back down the desk onto his cock. Your hands grip onto the edge of the desk, keeping yourself still as he thrusts back into you, slowing his pace. His eyes are on you, drinking you in as one of his hands glides down your leg enough to grip onto it and throw it over his shoulder.

His thrusts move into an easy pace, enough to give you both pleasure, but not enough to push you over the edge. Even with his cock pressed into you, completely to the hilt, his main goal is to watch you break.

His hands are on your thighs, his left resting on the inside of your thigh as the other grips the leg that’s thrown over his shoulder. He runs his left hand along the expanse of your body, pressing under your shirt as he pulls it up, exposing you further to him before his thumb presses into your open mouth. The faint taste of your own arousal fills your mouth as you close your lips around it. His pace picks up then, as he’s finally got you where he wants you: a mess under him, begging, pleading with your eyes.

His hips snap into you at a rigid pace, and his thumb in your mouth muffles any sounds that come out of you before it finally pulls out, moving down your body until it rests on your clit, rubbing languid circles that don’t match the tempo of his thrusts but it pushes you further either way. All it takes is a groan from him to push you over the edge, your heat clenching around him as incoherent words and moans fall out of your mouth. He fucks you through it, his hand moving from your clit to grab your chin, forcing your eyes on him.

“That’s it, love… takin’ me so good…” He says in between thrusts, squeezing your cheeks as he takes in the mess he’s made out of you. Your chest heaves, your eyes half-lidded as syllables make their way out of your mouth in a prayer that’s made only for his ears. In your hazy state, you’re not sure when his own release comes, and you can only feel his hips stutter before he’s pressing himself fully into you, filling you up before his lips come down to press against yours. He lets out a growl, nibbling on your bottom lip as everything falls quiet around you. The sound of your moans, the dull thud of his still-clothed hips hitting hard against yours, is replaced by the sound of your shared labored breathing. His kiss turns more tender and you try your best to reciprocate it in your now completely tired state.

“You did so good, baby…” His words fill the silence, “So good for me.” The both of you share breaths along with light kisses as you come down, and his demeanor shifts so quickly that it would give you whiplash if you had more of a mind to think about it. You still feel like mush as he pulls out of you, fixing his clothes before he’s pulling your shirt back down with tender hands.

His arms wrap around you, lifting you off the desk before he’s making his way over to the small futon on the other side of the room and he sits down with you, letting you rest against his chest as you both collect yourselves in the dim light of his office.

Minutes pass, maybe even an hour, but your only focus is on the rise and fall of his chest.

“You okay?” He finally speaks, and it comes out tender, the gravel of his voice caressing you in a way that makes a shiver run up your spine. You nod, not trusting your voice just yet and he presses a kiss against the top of your head as his hand moves to scratch at your scalp to provide some extra comfort.

“Gonna have to come back for more than extra credit…” You mumble out after a couple more minutes, your voice absolutely destroyed, and you nuzzle further into his chest until your breath is bouncing off of his neck. Your words have tugged a light laugh out of him.

“Gonna have to cancel my next class…” He says, wrapping his arms tighter around you.

Fuck his next class.

Fuck the extra credit...

#call of duty fanfic #cod x reader #john price x reader #call of duty #call of duty smut #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #captain john price #cod x reader smut #fanfic #john price

[not-a-robot-i-swear-really]

OK so I was listening to TV girls album who really cares while drawing our favorite black punk and that made me think when the song heaven is a bedroom came on I just immediately thought of them so could you please write a song fic

A/N: Thanks for the request! I’ve never written a songfic before, so I enjoyed getting to stretch my writing muscles with this one. Also, the lyrics are not in chronological order, I just added them according to how they fit the fic, lol

I have no idea what time period Hobie’s universe is set in, but for the sake of this fic and all future ones I’ll say it’s the 80s. Also, this takes place early on in his time as Spider-Punk, so he might be OOC.

Hope you enjoy!

Word Count: about 2k

Warnings: No y/n for this one, implied sexual content but nothing explicit, Hobie smokes some weed but reader doesn't

I confess to thinking sex was my salvation

When really they just start with the letter 'S'

You'll forgive me for thinking heaven was her bedroom

It's as close as I would ever get

Hobie Brown didn’t think he was going to heaven. He didn’t believe in it anyway; he always thought the bible was just a distraction, a cudgel for the upper class to keep people praying for more instead of fighting for more.

But if there was ever a place that felt like heaven, it was here, in your bedroom.

He took a deep breath and blew it out, the smell of the weed he brought mingling with the high-class perfume you wore. Beside him, you stirred from your half-asleep state and lazily dragged a hand down his bare chest. You looked up at him through thick eyelashes – fake ones, probably the best your parents’ money could buy – and parted kiss-swollen lips to speak:

“Are you gonna leave soon?” Your voice quivered with something Hobie couldn’t quite recognize, or maybe he just didn’t want to recognize it. You asked him this question every time he came over, when all was said and done and the two of you had worn each other out. Sometimes he answered, sometimes he didn’t but regardless the answer was always no.

“Why don’t you just kip down for the night, yeah?” His voice was hazy with smoke, but the words rang loud and clear in your head. You didn’t respond, only fluttering your eyes closed.

Hobie would be gone by the time you woke up. He always was. It wasn’t because he hated you – it was the exact opposite. London wasn’t exactly known for being quiet these days, not when there were so many supervillains out and about. A good few of them had declared themselves as Hobie’s archnemeses, or Spider-Punk’s archnemeses really.

Hobie was never one to follow the rules, especially not those of the Spider-Society’s, but this was something different. If people found you and found out that you knew – and laid with – the man behind the resistance…

Hobie doesn’t think he would ever forgive himself if you got hurt.

And I remember how the pillows felt like clouds

Or was it the other way around

And how your neighbor came in to yell at you

When the party got too loud

He remembered the day he first met you like it was yesterday.

He heard a rumor that your dad was working for the Kingpin. That night when he first met you, your parents was supposed to have been gone on a “business trip.” Hobie had assumed the house would be empty, which would leave him free to look for any evidence of connection between your dad and the supervillain.

Imagine his surprise then, when he got there and found it overflowing with people.

“Looks like someone’s havin’ a bit of a knees-up, eh?” He muttered to himself as he landed on the rooftop. He peered through one of the skylights and squinted through the flashing lights to see the party. Inside the house were dozens of teenagers and young adults, bumping and grinding to what could only be described as the unholy child of capitalism and pop music. He recognized a good few of the people there too – all children of politicians and businesspeople, or others involved in upholding the regime.

This didn’t interest Hobie at all. He liked a good party as much as the next person, but this was just getting in the way of him investigating. He was ready to just leave, come back another time – but then came an angry knock at the front door, barely loud enough to pierce through the blaring music.

You came down the stairs with an expression on your face and dressed like every fashion model he had ever met. Hobie knew it was your party because you happened to look a lot like your father. When you got to the door and opened it, you were met with a red-faced older woman, almost assuredly about to launch into a tirade about your party.

With you distracted, he crawled down the side of the house and slid into the first unlocked window he could find. It was your bedroom.

Admittedly, it did look quite nice. It wasn’t just useless décor overflowing with ostentatiousness, there was actually taste here (he couldn’t say the same about the rest of the house though). He let out a low whistle as he looked around. He plopped down onto your bed, sinking into the plush pillows and almost let out a moan at how good they felt. It was like laying on a cloud.

He didn’t get too much time to enjoy it though. You came back to your bedroom just a moment later.

At first you just stared at him. Then, tensely you said, “You must be the Spider-man.”

“Oy, it’s Spider-Punk!” He rebutted indignantly.

You just sniffed at that. “If you’re looking for dad, he’s not here.” You sat at your vanity, sliding off your heels as you spoke. “He’s off in Dubai with his new ‘work friend.’”

“Awfully calm right now, considering me. Your old man would have a right fit wouldn’t he?”

You scoffed bitterly, “He wouldn’t care. He never does.”

“’Bout me being here or ‘bout you?” You only lifted an eyebrow in response.

“I know you’re not here for nothing. What do you want?”

“Little birdie told me your Da’s been getting up to some shady business. Any chance you know somethin’ ‘bout that?”

“He never tells me anything. But…” You paused to light up a cigarette, “I know his office is downstairs in the library. He’s got it hidden behind a bookcase or something.”

“Right then. S’pose I should get going.” But he didn’t. Instead, he hesitated right at the door.

Hobie didn’t know why he paused at the doorway. He had already got what he wanted. Something about the weariness on your face, the melancholy, just made him think. He could have just chalked it up to the typical rich kid boredom, but he had reason to think there was more to it.

And when I snuck into your living room

And I wished that you would follow

At first you didn't but then you did

And it was already tomorrow

Hobie had left as soon as he had found the files on your dad’s computer; something about a deal going down that would provide the regime with newer tougher weapons. But then the next morning he went back to your house. It was stupid, he knew.

Last night you were feeling generous and there was no reason you would be that morning. But he snuck into your living room anyway in the hopes of… He didn’t actually know yet.

For a moment he just stood there on the plush white carpet. Hobie toed the edge with a spiked boot, turning over what he was going to say when you got there.

“You’re still here?” came a groggy voice. He whipped around to face the voice – his spider-sense hadn’t gone off at all – to find you at the top of the stairs, disheveled and wiping crust from your eyes.

“…Figured I should give you a heads up.”

“Heads-up? About what?”

“Your old man’s got a big deal going down. Some new weapons he’s handing over to the Kingpin.” And to the regime, but it’s not like you would care about the resistance’s plight, would you?

“Oh… I guess your friends would be in trouble then. The resistance or whatever you call it.” He stood corrected. “But what am I supposed to? He wouldn’t listen to me if I told him to stop.”

“He might not. But that doesn’t mean there’s no way for you to help.”

“You mean… You want me to spy?”

“More like be my mate on the inside, yeah?”

“...That’s all?”

“That’s all. Think about it.” Hobie turned to leave, perching on the window sill.

“Wait!” He looked back at you, an apprehensive look on your face “Do you mean mate as in… friends?”

Hobie only nodded in response.

This was the first of many meetings between the two of you.

New York City's cold and when you love someone you should hold on to them so tightly

Till you crush them

Or they wriggle from your grasp

You don't just stand there and say nothing

But at least I learned my lesson

When Hobie had finally smoked the last of the blunt, and you had gotten up to take a shower, he found himself posed with a question. Should he stay this time or leave like he always does.

He takes one of his bracelets and spins around in his fingers as he ponders, turning it this way and that as he ponders. As he did, you came out the shower wrapped in a light pink bathrobe – he remembered telling you that it looked good on you – and sat next to him quietly.

“I’m leaving for New York soon.” You said suddenly, your voice like a bucket of ice water dumped over his head.

“What? When?” Hobie didn’t try to hide his shock; there had been no indication that things between you two would change, this weird relationship you had.

“A week, I think. Kingpin hasn’t been too happy with my dad lately. Dad’s moving us there to try and fix things with him.”

“But why bring you with him? Can’t you just stay here?”

“You know why I can’t do that, Hobie.”

He slid a hand down his face. What was he meant to do now? This relationship between you two… You weren’t lovers, but you weren’t friends either, and you certainly weren’t friends with benefits. What the two of you had was unique. Hobie had never felt the way he felt about you with anyone else.

“…Are you going to stay?”

Silence.

“Are you going to stay? Just this once Hobie?”

He said nothing. He should have said something.

You got up silently and disappeared into the hallway.

“…I’ll meet you there. I swear I will,” Hobie said, a quiet declaration to himself.

If I ever make it to New York

Like I said that I would

Would it do me any good?

Three years. It took three years for Hobie Brown to make good on his promise. Three years of thinking, of fighting, of wondering of the point of him even coming to see you.

He had left you a pager that last night before you left for New York, something to at least let you know he was still alive. He had sent a message every week religiously, like he was going to Mass. You never responded, but the messages always went through.

He had thought early on that seeing you again would never happen – that it wasn’t meant to happen. There had been so many reasons for him to not make good on it: he had people back home relying on him, that whole thing with the Spider-Society, and of course there was the possibility that you just wouldn’t want to see him again.

Peter B had convinced him otherwise. Handed him a bouquet and a ticket and said, “You know what to do, Hobie.”

So, he went. Now here he stood, right before the house you had told him you would be living in before you left. He felt like a kid again, like he had asked you on his first date or something. Maybe he might get to do just that. Take you out on a real date, instead of slinking around with you.

With a deep breath, he raised a hand and knocked – once, twice, thrice.

You opened it.

Hobie spoke. “You, er, wanna try this again? Actual date this time?”

You took the flowers from his hand, inhaled their scent deeply, then looked up at him through thick lashes.

“I’d love to.”

A/N: Really enjoyed writing this one, hope y'all enjoyed it too! Thanks again for the request ❤ I have another one comping up soon, hopefully I'll have that posted tomorrow

I'm thinking about starting up a taglist, let me know what you guys think about it

Bye ~ ❤

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x black reader #hobie brown x black!reader #request #black!reader #black reader #astv #hobie brown #spider punk x reader #spider punk x black reader #spider punk x black!reader #oneshot

[widowwaddles]

Don’t Go Baking My Heart - Part 3

Summary:  After a breakup, you decide to pack up your life and move to Westview. A  coworker recommends you join the local community's cooking class in  order to settle into the new town. It sounded like a great idea, you could learn a new skill (that you desperately need) and meet new people. However, nothing could have prepared you for the green-eyed beauty you  met during class. Maybe you'll end up leaving the class with more than  just a basic understanding of cooking.

Taglist:  @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​

Word count: ~4.1k

Masterlist

Part 4

--

How to Know You’ve Found the One

Waking up the next morning, you couldn’t help but reread the text on your phone with a smile. You haven’t been this happy in the morning in a while, and you knew it could only mean one thing - but you weren’t ready to admit it yet. It was no secret that you had the tendency to fall hard and fast. You were a hopeless romantic and led with your heart. Many people said they’d admire that trait about you and gushed how more people should be this way - before later going on to break yours. You’ve dealt with a lot of heartbreak, with your last relationship being the last straw. There were things you knew that you needed to work on - boundaries you needed to set within yourself - to ensure that your future relationships wouldn’t end like the last.

So you wrote it all in a letter. Detailing your hopes and dreams for the future, but most importantly being brutally honest about the patterns you tend to follow when falling for someone, despite wanting to break out of it. No matter how much you liked Wanda you didn’t want to fall into old habits. Not that anything would be happening anytime soon between you two - based on last night, Wanda is going through a lot more than she’s letting on. It was way too early to even think about getting into a relationship right now - considering you just met - but you couldn’t help but feel your heart race at the thought.  

Dear Y/n, 

If you’re reading this then you’ve found yourself with a bit of a crush. Who am I kidding, you must be really down bad if you’re reading this now. There’s no need to panic, who better to help you navigate during this challenging time than you from the past. I’ll make this nice and easy, but the first step is to breathe. You don’t have to fight it, It’s okay to enjoy this feeling - the rush. Just don’t let it consume you. You don’t always have to be the one to initiate things. Allow yourself to take the backseat this time and let them set the pace.  

Deciding to live by your words, you prepared for your day. You could do this, and maybe this was the best thing for your situation. You would be a fool to deny the connection you had made yesterday, but you could tell that Wanda was clearly going through something right now. You didn’t want to push her into anything she wasn’t ready for or worse, do something that causes her to push you away. You were willing to let her set the pace, and if friendship was what she needed now, then you’ll do just that. Sending Wanda a simple good morning text, you set off for work and for the first time since moving to Westview, you felt excited for the day ahead.

 ___

To say that Yelena was surprised to see your smiling face as you walked into work today would be an understatement.  Usually, it would take you at least two coffees and a meal to draw a genuine smile from your face during the workday.

“Someone looks happy, would you like to share with the class?” Yelena looks intrigued as to what has you in such a good mood today.

You try to hide your smile as you look away. You contemplated revealing everything that happened after class yesterday. You would love to have someone to confide in but you had to stop yourself. It was too early to say anything now and considering the circumstances you felt like you’d be breaking Wanda’s trust by discussing the more intimate details (aka Wanda breaking down). It definitely wouldn’t be a good start to a friendship, and if you planned on getting closer you’d need Wanda to have faith that you wouldn’t go gossiping about her private life (even if it is with your best friend).

“Can’t I just be happy to see my best friend today?” you say hoping she buys it. Who's to say you weren’t happy to see Yelena today?

“If this is your attempt at trying to suck up to me after yesterday, then you seriously need better material” she looks at you skeptically, clearly not buying it. “Plus, I forgave you after you gave me our precious creation, it was delicious”

“Actually, I don’t remember there ever being any sort of discussion regarding the pot pie. Just you saying goodbye before quickly running out of the building carrying a suspicious container” you recount your last memories of seeing Yelena. “But if it went to a good cause, who am I to question anything. I’m just happy it’s allowed you to spice up your usual diet”.

“Hey, don’t try to change the subject. What’s up with you today?” Yelena rolls her eyes not liking your last comment or your attempts to dodge her questions.

“It’s seriously nothing” you reply, not wanting to admit the truth of what has you feeling good today. “Can’t I have some mystery to my life?”.

“No”  Yelena looks at you like you’ve grown another head. “It’s a girl, isn’t it?” she asks bluntly.

Your eyes widen and a light blush dusts your cheeks. It’s embarrassing how well she knows you.  

“Really? I’m happy for you Y/n, she must really be special if she has you like this” Yelena was genuinely happy for you, knowing how hard it’s been for you to make any sort of connection since you’ve been here. “So, tell me about her”

And here comes the hard part. You needed to go about this smartly, Yelena must not - under any circumstances - know the identity of the woman who’s stolen your heart. You needed to be cool and nonchalant about this.

“She’s perfect” you immediately gush. “I’ve never had this feeling before about anyone this quickly, I mean I barely know her. I don’t think anything is going to be happening between us anytime soon though so you cannot say anything.” you ramble. Definitely, way too much information that you planned on divulging to her.

“Don’t worry I won’t. But if you’re saying this then it must be someone I know” she’s piecing this together much faster than you hoped. “Hmmm…Do you want to tell me or should I try to guess who it is?” she has her hand on her chin as if a detective on their latest case.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea” you start but she’s showing no signs of stopping. Shifting your eyes nervously, you look at your cup of coffee and  blurt the first name that comes to mind

“Sharon”

“Huh, as in the barista?” she never would have guessed that you would be into Sharon Carter, based on how shallow your conversations have been so far. When did you even get her number, you literally only talk about coffee when you’re in the coffee shop she works at. “I was gonna say, Wanda, I mean you could practically smell the tension between you,” she admits, starting to feel less confident about her answer after your revelation. How could she have missed this supposed connection you had with Sharon?

“Pshhh, you must be seeing things,” you say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I don’t even think Wanda likes me that way anyways,” you say sadly, staring blankly at your computer.

“Sure whatever you say Y/n, but you’re an idiot if you don’t see the way Wanda looks at you” she doesn’t say anything further, and you were thankful for that. You began to dwell on her words - it couldn’t possibly be true. You didn’t know why you were psyching yourself out, I mean, this is the best possible scenario. Yet, something inside is preventing you from fully believing it - a part of you that knows that once you get your hopes up it would only end in disappointment.

I know it may make you feel anxious or insecure, causing you to question whether the connection you felt was real (and reciprocated). And, I’m not gonna lie it’s gonna be difficult, giving up some control of the situation and letting the fates decide, but I promise you it’s worth it. Let them prove to you that they can make an effort. You need to recognize that the progression of a relationship isn’t dependent on one person. And when the time finally comes, and you receive that one sign that confirms the feelings between you is mutual, it’s the best feeling in the world.  

  Wanda  :

Hey, sorry I’ve been pretty busy today. Will you be free this Friday to meet up? I want to see you again.  

—  

It’s been three days since you received Wanda’s text and now it was finally the day you’ve been waiting for, Friday. Sitting in the coffee shop, you’re nervously awaiting Wanda’s arrival. You may or may not have come 30 minutes earlier than the agreed-upon time. You take a deep breath and try to remind yourself to stay calm. I mean it was only your first time hanging out with Wanda outside of class. You simply needed to look at this situation as two friends hanging out and not a date.

It was about another 15 minutes before you saw a brunette walk through the door. She anxiously looked around the shop, trying to find an empty seat before making eye contact with you. She seems surprised to see you before relief floods her face. She immediately walks over to you, with a smile.

It’s too early to decide anything yet, but take notice of everything. Are they always late when you arrange to spend time together? When they first see you, is this their first instinct to smile or grimace? Consider this moment, the official first impression - it will be the deciding factor in if this moves forward.  

“Hey, I wasn’t expecting to see you here so early” she greets you nervously. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long”.  

“Hey Wanda, you didn’t I just got here a minute ago, don’t worry” you greet her, the small lie slipping past your lips with confidence. She looks at the table, noticing you’ve already ordered a medium coffee and two bagels.

“And you just so happened to order all of that and it arrived half-eaten?” she asks knowingly, having to suppress her giggle. “The service here must really suck”.

“It’s not too bad” you scratch your neck, knowing you’ve been caught. “I would love to buy you something though, from the uneaten side of the menu” you rush out, desperately wanting to change the subject.

“Smooth” she teases. “I’ll take a Jasmine tea and a muffin”

 You quickly stand up from your seat and go to the cashier to order. You even surprised Wanda with how quick you were but the look was quickly replaced with an endearing smile as she watched you stumble to the front.

“I want a Jasmine tea and a muffin” you order.

“Wow, Y/n. Did you finish the coffee and bagels already?” the blonde barista jokes.

“Haha, very funny Sharon, but I’ll have you know that this isn’t for me” you reply. You and Yelena are regulars at this coffee shop, so it’d only make sense that you were friendly with Sharon and the other baristas here.

Sharon looks back to where you were seated and notices the pretty brunette waiting at the table.

“Ahhh, I see. Well, in that case, I’ll make it on the house” she says kindly.

As she prepares your order you continue to make casual conversation with Sharon, with her trying to get as many details about your little date. Wanda watches this interaction from afar and has to suppress the little green monster threatening to come out. She doesn’t understand why watching you speak to the blonde barista makes her feel so jealous, considering you were only friends (for now). She has to hide her glare, when you turn back around, giving her a bright smile and holding up 2 fingers - indicating her order should be ready soon.

“Here you go” Sharon says as she hands you the tea.

“Thanks Sharon, I owe you one”

“No worries but hey” she says with a concerned look. “Have you noticed that Yelena’s been acting weird?”

You instantly knew what she was referring to. You and Yelena are regulars at this coffee shop, so it’d only make sense that you were friendly with Sharon and the other baristas here. Ever since revealing to Yelena that you liked Sharon (romantically) she’s elected herself as your wingman and has been trying to leave hints to the barista that you wanted something more. It’s been very embarrassing but Sharon didn’t seem very perceptive to it until Yelena flat-out asked if she found you attractive. Thankfully, she was a good sport about it and brushed it off. You hoped that she would have just forgotten about it, but appears she has not. Now you were put in the awkward position of explaining it to her, which required a delicate hand. You look at Sharon kindly.  

“You know how she is” you left it as that before rushing back to your table. You seriously needed to have a conversation with Yelena about being subtle. You could only imagine how much worse it would be if she finds out that Wanda is the one you actually liked ( *cough cough* read the Valentine's Day Special).

You set her order on the table and Wanda looks at you thankfully, as she begins to eat. The conversation flows between you two, and it feels refreshing. You both couldn’t hide your smiles as you finished your outing.

Walking out of the coffee shop together, you noticed that Wanda’s car wasn’t in the parking lot. Wanda walks with you to your car, brushing against you with each step. When you reach the door you turn back to Wanda.

“I enjoyed this, spending time with you today” Wanda fiddled with her hands nervously. “I don’t want it to end”, she finishes glumly.

“Well it doesn’t have to” you have a hopeful look you weren’t ready to say goodbye either. “I’m still not familiar with the area -unless for food- so would you maybe…want to come to my place? We could watch a movie and cook dinner together, I’m still not too confident with my skills in the kitchen” and now you’re rambling. She looks at you inquisitively. “Feel free to say no, I don’t want to pressure you” you rush out, beginning to regret your invitation.

“You’re seriously asking your cooking instructor to come cook for you” she teases. “Wow Y/n, I’ve never had one of my students propose such a thing. Are my classes not enough?”

“Well what can I say, I’m in desperate need of private lessons. I learn better one-on-one” you flirtatiously joked. Her cheeks went red instantly, and you couldn’t hide your laugh.

“I’d love to,” she says warmly. “Plus from what Yelena’s told me, you’d probably starve tonight if I didn’t come”

“Hey, she’s much worse than me. I at least have a variation to my diet” you defend yourself. You couldn’t believe that Yelena had the audacity to complain to Wanda about your eating habits.

“You both could use the help,” she says attempting to stay neutral. You give her a knowing look, but she avoids your eyes. “Shall we get going?”

Walking over to the passenger door of your car, you open the door for her.

“After you milady,” you say charmingly. She gets in shyly, before flashing you a small smile. You close the door and walk back to your side. This is a good day.

 —

When you arrive at your apartment, you lead Wanda to your door. Nervousness filled your body, this was the first time you’d invited someone over -not even Yelena has seen your apartment yet.

“I just want to warn you before you go in” you begin to unlock your door. “Lower all of your expectations. I’m still in the process of decorating so” you open the door, allowing her to go through first.

“Wow” she walks at everything your living room has to offer. A couch and tv, nothing else. “It looks great”. She eyes your kitchen before looking at you for permission. You walked with her to the kitchen, knowing she was not gonna be too happy with what she finds.

“Your counters look a bit bare, but I guess that makes sense if you barely cook” she analyzes before opening your refrigerator. “It’s completely empty!” quickly closing the door, and opening your cabinets. “WHY DO YOU HAVE NOTHING IN HERE?” she glares at you.

“I just haven’t gotten around to it yet” holding your hands up in defense, you know it’s a weak response.

“You’ve been here for more than a month, how much more time do you need?” she gawks, she couldn’t believe this was real.

“You-you’re not allowed to look so surprised, I joined your class for a reason. What happened to your optimistic ‘anyone can cook’ attitude?”.

“Most people come to learn a new recipe or two. You need an intervention” she says bluntly. “I’m depressed just being in here. I don’t even know how you’ve survived this long” she looks so disappointed when she gets closer to you, offering a gentle hug and rubbing your back. You enjoy it until you begin to feel her grip tighten. Uh oh. She must have seen it.

Pushing you away, Wanda walks to your trash can and points at the numerous takeout bags - from the last 3 days - piling up to the top.

“Really?”

“I thought you’d be happier to see that I’m eating well” you joke, but Wanda doesn’t seem to find it very funny.

“We’re going to the grocery store now. Let’s go” she orders, leaving no room for any further discussion on the matter. Part of you was surprised by her tone, but a (much) larger part was kinda into it. She looks hot when she’s angry and in charge. “Now” she’s looking at you impatiently, not wanting to leave the lady waiting - you scramble to get your keys and follow her out the door.

 —

The next thing to ask yourself is: How do they make you feel? And you have to be honest, don’t let the butterflies influence your answer. Can you truly be yourself around them, or do you feel like you have to play a role in order to get their acceptance? You need to know the difference, as this has led to the downfall of all of your relationships. You need to start living for yourself - as your authentic self - even in your relationships. Don’t change yourself, if they are truly worth it then they’d accept you, flaws and all.  

You’ve never been one to like going to the grocery store. For one, you did not know how to buy food, like a responsible adult that is taking care of their body, or whatever Wanda called it. In your defense, your taste in food hasn’t changed much since getting older, so you bought things when you were a kid. Which was why your cart filled up with more snacks than actual food you had to cook. Wanda changed that quickly, getting a cart of her own and filling it with healthier options. You had honestly thought she was shopping for herself until you got to the checkout and she asked you to watch her cart while she went to grab something. She took your cart and never came back.

Leaving the grocery store, you actually felt happy. You were not looking forward to putting the groceries up but you’ve never had so much fun in the store. Usually, you’re being dragged around the store, not having much of a say over what’s being bought besides the occasional and reluctant ‘fine but only one’. Wanda never made you feel bad about yourself and when you saw her exiting the store with a small bag of your favorite snacks understood she wasn’t trying to completely bulldoze your life. You’ve never had someone care this much about what you were putting into your body, while also taking consideration into what you liked. Her plan wasn’t to completely change but just to make sure you’d live longer with a more (age) appropriate diet. Maybe if you could watch Wanda talk animatedly about the importance of organic fruits and vegetables in your diet, you’d always enjoy your time in the grocery store. You’ll definitely have to ask her to come with you next time, though you know she’d probably volunteer.

Arriving back home, Wanda arranged your new groceries into your fridge and cabinets. She had a satisfied look on her face as she looked at her work. She was almost satisfied enough to leave. Keyword almost - she didn’t have much faith that you would just order takeout again instead of cooking the food you just bought. She helped you prepare a simple meal and you enjoyed it while watching Friends in your living room. You learned Wanda was more of a sitcom person, preferring shows from the 50s-60s. When you revealed that you’ve never seen sitcoms from this era she almost took your remote to start an episode, but you came up with a compromise by designating a night where you would replicate the events of today but instead end with a huge binge of these shows.

 —

Your day with Wanda has officially come to an end, much faster than any of you hoped. As you pull up to Wanda’s house, you see her car in the driveway. Wanting to make sure she made it inside safely, you walk her to the door. The walk is silent with a light tension growing between you as you stand there just looking at each other. You want to make a move, but you still weren’t completely confident that Wanda would want that.

“We should do this again” You give her a small smile.

“Yeah we should,” she confirms. “I might need to make weekly visits to make sure you’re eating well” she ends teasingly.

“Well, I’ll hold you to it then,” you say before turning around. “I’ll see you soon Wanda”

“Please” Her hand grabs yours, preventing you from going any further. “Don’t go yet” her voice sounds so weak.

Pulling you back towards her, you see the hesitance in her eyes. Concerned, you move closer to her and squeeze her hand - that was still holding onto your tightly - in reassurance. She really doesn’t want you to leave yet. In a leap of courage, she leans forward first, and you follow suit. Your lips connect in a soft, yet passionate kiss, even you began to feel overwhelmed with emotion for some reason and she pulled away - you understood why.

“I want this, but I don’t know if I deserve to have it” she ends with a whisper, you could barely hear what she said. Tears started to escape her eyes, but before you could ask what was going on.

BEEP

Suddenly the sound of a car horn makes you jump apart. You hadn’t even noticed the other car pulling into the driveway.

“Mom!” a tiny voice screams from inside the car.

“Dad brought us to get ice cream, look how many scoops mine has, '' another voice says, as the car door opens.

Two young boys run towards Wanda, eager to tell her about their latest adventure to the ice cream shop. They didn’t even notice you standing there until they felt their mother stiffen, as they hugged her legs. Looking at you with innocent, yet questioning eyes, they pull away from Wanda and stand in front of you. Wanda uses this time to quickly wipe her face.

“Who’s this mom?”

“This is my new friend -”

“Y/n, and I was just leaving. I hope you enjoy your ice cream boys” you cut her off not wanting to stand there any longer, you rush back to the car - mumbling a quick goodbye. As you walked back, you saw a tall figure exit from the car and walk up to Wanda and the children. He ruffles their hair, noticing they were still watching you as you sat in your car.  Gathering their attention, he stares at them as he opens the front door.

“Okay kiddos, back inside we go. And let’s avoid making a mess this time” he says the last part firmly. You’re too distracted with your own internal meltdown to notice that the man completely ignores Wanda as he walks into the house. She looks so broken.

Deciding you’ve outstayed your welcome, you drive back home trying (and failing) to keep the tears at bay.

And if you listened to everything I’ve said so far, and they’re still here then you probably met a keeper, don’t ever let them go. For the first time ever you know your heart will be safe with someone and you’ll take security in knowing that they wouldn’t break it. Enjoy this feeling. 

Ouch.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #dontgobakingmyheart

[thenextdawn-temporarilyclosed]

Unknown Pt. 2

Pt. 1 HERE

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: in this second part reader finally finds out something more about her ability, though it was not what she expected there will be someone to calm her down.

Warnings: none

Pairing: Wednesday x Fem!Reader

Not a lot of Wednesday interaction here but the one that is there is a key one! I promise you’ll see more interactions with them in the next chapter! Thank you for reading and please like!✨

———

The following day you woke up in that empty room of yours, too anxious to start this day. It would be the first time following lessons here at Nevermore, and even though you were VERY nervous, you were curious as to what the subjects were and to how they would be taught. You decided it would be a clever idea to skip breakfast because you wanted to avoid being made fun of. Plus, you were still wearing Wednesday’s clothes because you forgot to dry your uniform.

As you had skipped breakfast and had nothing to do, you decided to head over to the first class, it was the one with Miss Thornhill, who taught about all kinds of plants, wether they were edible or not, good or bad or even if they were usable in the medic field. You certainly had made some noise while getting in the greenhouse and the teacher heard you, coming your way with a small (and somewhat creepy) smile on her face.

“You must be (Y/N), right? It’s nice to have you here. Why are you here so soon?” She asked. Too many questions, you thought. “Yeah that’s me. I’m here so soon because I have nowhere to be and I don’t want to get bullied. I figured that here I could just avoid them, since no one wants to go to class early so here I am” you said and looked at the woman in front of you, who then gave you a small smile. “Mrs. Weems Told me what happened yesterday and told me about you. If you need Anybody to talk to I’m here” you nodded as a silent thanks and then everybody got in the room.

Everybody sat together as the desks were made for two people, and you sat alone but Wednesday and Enid sat behind you, saying you a good morning. Wednesday noticed how you still had her clothes on, of course you did, you had nothing else to wear and the orphanage had no plans on bringing you your stuff. During that class you caught a glimpse of someone’s ability. Xavier could animate drawings, Yoko was a vampire and Enid a werewolf. You also wondered what you were and you probably always will wonder that.

The other classes went on more or less the same way of the first one and you were getting tired of hearing people whisper things about you then look at you and giggle. This is why at lunch when you knew everybody would be together, you decided to go take a look in the woods behind the school. You loved the nature, and this forest, as creepy as it was, was also really beautiful.

You sat down against the tree to eat your lunch, when suddenly you heard the sounds of the winter leaves cracking under someone’s feet. You turned around to see Wednesday come towards you. “(Y/N), I finally found you” she said and you stood up to match her height, kind of, since she was really short. “There’s a monster going around and killing people in these woods. You shouldn’t be out here on your own. Come on let’s get back to school” she said and tried to get you to go back inside the building.

You chuckled at what you heard. A monster? That couldn’t be possible. “Yeah right, a monster. Seriously Addams?” You asked her, raising your arms to the side only to let them fall back against your sides in annoyance “did the others put you up to this?” You asked her, using an accusing tone. You truly couldn’t trust anyone… “I act under no one’s command but my own, (Y/N). I’m serious, this thing has killed a lot of people already and it could get both of us too if we don’t get back inside the school” she said raising her tone a bit. She was dead serious, yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to believe a word she said.

“Why would I believe you Addams!?” You raised your tone as a consequence to Wednesday doing the same thing. Your pupils squinted, taking the shape of a cat eye pupil. Wednesday furrowed her eyebrows. She could see something had changed in your appearance, but she was too distant to pinpoint what it actually was “because I have no reason to lie to a no one” she said without even thinking of it. Typical, she always does this. “Yeah right. If I’m a no one them why stand up for me when Bianca pushed me in the shower, huh?” Your hands, and most specifically your fingers were starting to take the shape of claws, nails getting longer and pointy “if I’m a no one here and yet you stood up to me, why not stand up to me when we were at the same normie school? What’s the difference now!?”

The white part of your eyes was slowly turning into a darker color, going to black. Only then Wednesay realized what had changed. “(Y/N).” The shorter girl tried calling for you in a lower voice tone, but you kept on rambling about what was different from then. “(Y/N)!” Wednesday called again, this time in a much different, higher and more authoritative tone. “WHAT!” You snapped at her. She lowered her tone once again “your hands.”

You looked at her confused and then looked at your hands. Your expression then completely switched from a mad one to a panicked one as you looked at Wednesday as to ask for help. You didn’t know what had happened to you. All you knew was that you were scared and you didn’t know what was happening to you. You had never felt emotions this strong before. “It’s okay. Try to breathe slower” she instructed you, and following her advice your hands turned back to normal and so did your eyes.

“Come on let’s get you back to the school and tell Mrs. Weems what happened, before she kills us for being out here for too long, as much as I’d want that.” The brunette said as she started walking back to the school. As soon as you got to her office Wednesday explained what she saw and then she left as Weems asked her to. “Can you tell me what happened (Y/N)? What did you do that made you uh… change your aspects?” She asked with a kind, soft voice tone. God that woman really knew how to talk to people, especially the most sensitive ones.

“I told you I don’t know exactly… all I know is that I thought Wednesday was lying to me and I got really mad.. I’m used to people lying to me but this time I just felt different. I didn’t know what was happening to me until Wednesday made me notice and calmed me down. I don’t know what happened to me and it scares me a lot” you told her honestly as you wrapped your arms around yourself, this was something you’d do whenever you feel insecure.

Weems noticed that and tried to make you feel at ease, but at the same time she had to break the news to you. “I don’t know what to say (Y/N), we never had someone like you here before. It seems that whatever it is, it’s triggered by strong emotions and today you probably awakened it. Plus, by how Wednesday described it, it can’t be something good.” She sighed looking at you with a helpless look, she truly wanted to help you but she didn’t know how to.

“We’ll keep an eye on you okay? In the meantime I’ll do some research so I can help you figure out what it is and how to control it, there must be something in our books that can help us figure out what’s going on with you. We don’t know yet what calms your… instincts, but since apparently Wednesday’s presence helped you earlier, look for her whenever you feel it happening again okay?” You nodded at the woman in front of you, then looked away like a lost puppy.

“Now go rest for the night and try to stay calm, okay? You’ll find s little something in your bed when you get inside” she said smiling motherly at you, then watched as you left towards Ophelia hall. You tried ignoring everyone you met and as soon as you stepped inside your room, you saw a bunch of clothes on your bed, and a small note, from Weems.

‘Dear (Y/N).

Given how badly you’ve been treated during your life, I deem it necessary that you now start living like you deserve and that you get treated like you deserve. This is why I bought you some nice clothes, they’re all new so all you have to do is take away the target. Eventually you’ll fit in here, trust me. Nevermore might not feel so perfect now, but it will soon.

Psa: I’ve had a little help when picking the clothes as I didn’t know what your tastes were. These are two completely different styles but who knows, maybe you can mix them and make your own style!’

You did take a better look at the clothes and it didn’t take you much to realize who had helped Weems as half of the clothes were white and black, and the other half was fully colored.

#jenna ortega #wednesday adams #wednesday adams x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x y/n #wednesday addams x you #wednesday x reader #wednesday x you #wednesday x y/n

[ryuttaeng]

this lia- any ff ideas come to mind?

pairing: lia x fem!reader

summary: lia always felt some kind of tension between you two.

contents/warnings: smut, minors dni. popular girl nerd dom!lia, fingering, hickeys, friends to lovers (or enemies to lovers idk), swearing/cursing, jealousy, please do not read if sensitive/uncomfortable with such themes!

genres: smut

word count: 1343

choi jisu always irritated you. she always was the best literally in everything. her toys were better, her grades were better, she got attention, everything you could think of. the competition between you over smallest things also had its place in your relationship since childhood.

choi jisu is undoubtedly the biggest challenge you has had to face throughout your life. you refused to share seats with her in classes, because you always thought you never deserved to sit beside someone you hate the most and whom you’re better than them. she also got attention from both sides, girls would always surround her or even follow around school and guys would wait for lia to come out of the class to ask for her number. she always had perfect grades and was best student, so it didn’t really matter to teachers about her make out sessions during lessons in somewhere in the hallway.

you aren’t jealous.

“just admit that you like her.” yuna hit your arm lightly, making you turn your head and furrow your brows. “oh, for fucks sake, it’s your hundredth time to say that.” you sighed, scrolling down your phone.

“once i accidentally came in when she changed and she hadn’t anything under her shirt and there was several hickeys on her chest.” okay, you’re jealous.

“what?” you turn your around so fast, your neck hurts a bit. yuna smiled at your reaction.

“i mean, who knows with whom she was that night. but, y/n, you won’t regret it. just go get her, even if it’s just one night stand.” you look away, trying to hide your thoughts. well, maybe you find her attractive as hell and maybe you would let her to do god knows what. maybe, you always been attracted to her.

thank goodness she wasn’t in the cheerleading group as you. you wouldn’t have handle more of her bossy attitude if she was. however, she could still interfere your trainings with her stupid attitude.

‘you’re doing not enough as a team captain’ she’d say. ‘i thought they were looking for a captain and not a looser’ or ‘you’re getting extra laps? are you even a captain?’ she’d almost yell in front of others and your team.

you hate her. jisu would always make you feel ashamed in front of others, but she would sometimes say something cheerful to you, or as she thought so. ‘you wasn’t as bad as yesterday, well done’ and her smirk on her face made you always feel irritated. even though, she knew that her praises affected you. you would label your blush as simply being flushed from the exercise, but knew she’s not gonna believe in that.

“you won’t regret it.”

maybe your idea wasn’t the brightest, but you still decided to check something. you told your friend to scare you for your own needs. thank goodness you at least had some acting skills.

you let out a sigh when you sat down on the bench after long training. you grabbed your water bottle and was about to finally take a sip when someone crept from behind. “boo!” your friend crept behind you and grabbed your shoulders. as she scared you, you missed your mouth and spilled water over your top. “fuck, eunju!” you slurred, looking down at your costume. to be honest, your uniform already didn’t left much to the imagination, and now you with your spilled water.

girls surrounded lia as she tried to listen to them rattling about something about her. the pretty loud voice draw her attention, making to turn her head to the direction the sound was coming from and she never regretted it. lia saw you scolding your friend for something, that she really didn’t wanted to know, your now soaked top got all her attention.

it would be a shame not to notice the attention you got each day. lia wouldn’t miss every word some girl or guy say about you near her or when she just sat in school field, watching cheerleading team. “you think y/n would accept my confession?” lia heard some girl from her encirclement say. “i think she’s very sweet person, so it’s a yes so far. i think you two would look cute together.” her friend cheered her friend, when you practiced some movements that lia couldn’t care less. “then i will confess to her right after her team finishes.”

“don’t you ever dare to confess to her.”

the girls stopped talking, turning their heads to lia. she gave them boring look, but she could still feel her heart beat racing. “why would you ever talk to her? she’s not your type. you deserve someone better.” lia said, turning back to the field.

the few seconds of silence didn’t stopped that girl from confessing, lia remembers that. she watched that girl walking up to you and shyly look away from you as she probably confessed. lia was okay with that, whatever. but your warm smile, addressed to that girl made lia almost come out from her spot and stop you two right there. thankfully, you rejected her.

blinking twice, lia shook her head, as you stood up to leave the field.

sighing, you entered the lock room, wanting to change your clothes when you heard someone entering room right after you. you was about to turn your head when you were pinned against a locker with jisu inches away from your face.

“you’re doing it on purpose, don’t you?” jisu said, her hot breath touching your lips. “i have no clue what are you talking about.” you whispered, leaning forward as you rest your forehead on hers. “you’re a big distraction, you know.” jisu growls out when you pulled her closer by her waist. “a big one.” you whispered again, you smirked, knowing well that you have power over her, even though she used to be the one who rules.

finally, jisu leans forward and connects your lips. you couldn’t even think that her lips would be so soft, too soft for your liking. your soaked crop top still on you, so jisu made you shiver when her hands cupped your breasts, playing with your nipples. you let her hand trail down, now only one hand groping her. letting lia’s hand guide lower until it slides under your waistband and meets your heat between your legs.

“oh my-“ you breathed out. “is this all caused by me?” jisu whispers as she explores with her fingers, rubbing gentle circles over your clit and before you could answer her something jisu slid her fingers in, receiving an exhale from you.

brunette connect lips with yours and moans of the feeling of you being wet and so warm around her fingers. “jisu…” you parted away, breaking the kiss as you moaned out. jisu’s slender fingers starts thrusting at a faster pace.

“you always distract me.” lia whispered, as she rubbed your clit with her thumb. “always?” you moaned out through your jagged breath, feeling heat building in your stomach. “you have no idea for how long i’ve been waiting for this.” jisu says as she goes faster each thrust. “oh my god, jisu, please-“ you breath out, as the pleasure building in your lower half snaps, jisu kissing you to muffle your moan.

you moan in lia’s mouth as she slowly starts to slow down her thrusts until she stops. you breath minute or two in silence, resting your forehead on hers, lia’s hand is brushing through your locks as she left soft kisses on your neck.

jisu helped you to finally change your top as you sat down on the bench. she lent her hand to help you stand up and laugh as you stumble a little. “i would like to see you like this more often.” she says, as she unlocks the door. “does that mean you wanna do it again?” lia’s hand rests on your waist.

“it means that i want to take you out for a date at first and that i like you, not just for one night stand.”

#itzy #itzy imagines #itzy oneshot #kpop imagines #kpop oneshots #itzy smut #itzy lia #choi jisu #lia smut #lia x female!reader #lia x reader #kpop smut

[ssuperficialspacecadett]

i kinda wanna see the triple frontier boys and reader do the “lala” or “okok” challenge from the song see you again by tyler the creator and kali uchis. i’d like to see your interpretation on who’s who and their relationship dynamics.

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Melodic Friendships - Through the Scope Drabble

Rating: everyone ?? (im just having a fun time with this hehe)

Word Count: 2.3K

Notes (more at the end as well): i received this ask maybe two weeks ago and have been meaning to tackle it ! i saw this trend on tik tok back when it was really popular and it seemed like such a fun idea to characterize the TF boys and Estrella using it ! i will preface this post by saying that while i was trying to nail down what the exact definitions for what 'lala' and 'okok' were so i could correctly apply them to our boys,,,i found that each person had their own take/idea/meaning for it. so in the case of this little project i will be defining each term like so ...

'lala' characters (to me): people who are more extroverted, cheerful, talkative, carefree for the most part, and easy to get a long with

'okok' characters (to me): people who are more introverted, a listener, a planner, and easy to be around

*this is also going to be an unedited/stream of consciousness/off the top of my head kinda vibe so i'm sure there will be grammatical errors and i apologize for that now*

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Benny Miller - lala

There was once a time where Benny thought that nothing could compare to being out in the field with his brother and two best friends. He loved the feeling of holding a gun in his hands, the feeling of never knowing what was around the next corner, and constantly knowing that his men had his back. There were some draw backs...okay a lot of draw backs. There was always the fear of his finger getting trigger shy, that what was around the corner could be to much to handle, and coming home one man short. Even so, he didn't think he could love anything more. That was until he opened up Brass Knuckles. And then, he found, his love grew even more when you came to work with him.

You kept up with him in everything he did. Honestly, you did more than keep up with him. If he had cleaned three workout benches, you had already cleaned the last four and were on your way to start another task. If he asked if the water was stocked in the mini fridge, you would roll your chair back with a grin and reveal a full fridge and sneak in a comment about how you 'picked up an extra pack from the store yesterday after work'. Everything was a competition, but it was all in fun. It was so refreshing to not be the youngest anymore. Not that he ever let it stop him. He was the youngest in his academy graduating class, but you better believe he snagged that number one spot. Will had told him once he was 'a one in a million talent' and he wanted to prove it every single day.

The two of you could talk for hours about absolutely nothing and never get bored. He wasn't even sure if either of you ever took a breath the entire time too. It was always go go go with yall. He could always count on you to act as a spring board for new ideas he was concocting for the gym. If his own ideas fell flat, you were there to air them back up with imaginative creations of your own. The pair of yall were a fucking powerhouse. It extended far past the gym too.

Whenever he managed to bully you into having a night with the guys down at The Barrel, neither one of you were quiet the entire time. It was like you were feeding off of each other like batteries that never lost their charge. The other guys would look around try to get a word in, but both of you had already moved onto greener topics. The others could only laugh and look at yall with intense amazement because who knew there was another person alive who could go toe to toe with Benny's mind. As cheesy as it sounds, you made him feel like he got his spark back. He didn't even realize he had lost it to being so wrapped up in life until you showed up either. You were his platonic other half.

***

Will Miller: okok

Will liked to be around people. However, he was picky about who he was around. He guessed that's why he didn't have many, if any, friends outside his group. They were all that he needed. He knew he would never be pestered for being on the quiet side or mocked because he was a little particular about the way he liked things. He was happy for Benny when he hired you. Lord only knows how much help his brother needed running that place. Of course he helped out whenever and however he could, but he had a job of his own.

He was wary about meeting you, he wasn't going to lie. Sure he would treat you with respect regardless, but for all he knew, you were just another employee. Nothing more and nothing less. However, he was taken aback at how naturally you bantered with Pope. When it came time for him to introduce himself to you, you didn't let him down either. You had a bright smile and a firm handshake. Not that he would call himself old fashioned, but he regarded people who had a solid handshake quite high. If he only knew that your grip would capture his heart as well.

You had been convinced to join all them out at The Barrel one Tuesday evening. He was already waiting with Pope at their usual table when you and Benny arrived after closing duties. Frankie would be running late due to his NA meeting, but that wasn't his truth to deliver to you. He watched you walk towards them with that beaming grin on your face. Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one in the bar that noticed. Men turned their heads and stared at you as you plopped yourself down to his right. He felt his chest swell with pride as you reached over and hugged him so lovingly. He wasn't much of a physical touch enthusiast, but you somehow made it seem bearable. For you, he was more than willing to make an exception.

When you realized you had left your wallet at the gym, you were insistent that you went back to get it. You said 'just because I'm a lady doesn't mean yall have to buy me drinks all the time. Maybe I want to buy yall drinks sometimes and I can't do that if I don't have my card'. He pushed away from the table just as you did and gave you a look that meant 'you are more than welcome to go, but you're crazy if you think you're going alone'. He listened peacefully as you pointed out constellations to him in the sky. You looked so pleased with yourself that he didn't have the heart to tell you that he already knew where each one was and how to navigate by using them. He just liked hearing you talk.

On the way back he found himself on the opposite end of the conversation. You had managed to get him to tell you about his job and what it entails. It felt so natural to talk with you by his side. Usually he is the one with a quippy one liner or words of caution, but with you, someone who used to be a stranger, he is comfortable enough to really talk. You pull him out of his shell and make him want to shed the armor he had built up around himself. It felt safe to do that with you.

***

Santiago Garcia: lala

He was smooth. Santi knew he was smooth. He had the body count to prove it and everyone around him knew it. He had never felt so challenged by a woman in his life. Usually they all turned to putty in his hands when he spoke, but you held tough. You were Fish's girl (even if he hadn't officially asked you yet) and he was so excited to see where it went. Yet, that didn't stop him from loving to push your buttons. He knew you could take it. The first moment he met you he knew. What did you say to him exactly? 'Kissing and telling wouldn’t be a good way to end my first day, don't ‘cha think?' God, that was a good line and he would have to put it in his back pocket to use for later. From that day on, the two of you were constantly trying to out wit the other.

Yall were once in the middle of a particularly devious match while grocery shopping together. He had lost at a five way game of rock, paper, scissors to see who had to buy the beer for a hangout. He was pretty pissed about it and it didn't get any better when he heard you volunteer to go with him just to rub in your victory the whole time. He was moping around the beer isle when he saw her. A beautiful woman maybe 10 years younger than him. Unfortunately, you saw her too. 'You couldn't keep up with her if you tried, old man' , 'funny, that's the same thing I told Fish when he said he liked you'. He had to pretend to look at the contents on the shelf to keep himself from laughing at your shocked face. Sure he could joke around with the other guys and they would always joke back, but there was something about your spirit that just matched his so well. Benny was a close second.

However, the one thing he loved more than ganging up on you was when the two of you would gang up on everyone else. 'The entry fee for the table is one shot' you told Fish one night when he showed up late one Tuesday evening. He saw the twinkle in your eye and knew exactly what to do. 'We all did it, man. Now it's your turn'. Will looked like he was about to object, but stopped when he noticed you placing your hand over his. You just had a way with all of them.

He found himself anxiously awaiting each time the two of you would meet so he could pick on you. He felt younger when you were around him. He felt just as spry as he did before his knee and neck surgeries. The weight of his years in the service had started to get unbearably heavy on his shoulders. Little did he know, all he needed was to see you throw back your head in laughter because of something he said to ease his pain.

***

Frankie Morales: okok

Frankie loved watching you. He knew that probably sounded creepy to say out loud, so he kept it to himself. He thought that there was a lot that you could learn about the inner workings of a person just by watching them in their day to day lives. When you called him that your car broke down he went through so many emotions and happiness may or may not have been one of them. After everything was squared away at the shop, he realized he didn't want to let you go. So he bucked up the courage and asked you to breakfast.

You allowed him to chose the spot since he was a local and he settled on a hole-in-the-wall diner. He peaked over his own menu to see you smiling and looking over each and every item the restaurant served. He couldn't help but smile when he would catch you mouthing the description of the food to yourself. Frankie didn't even mind that it took you forever to order either. That just meant that he gets to spend more time in your presence. When yalls plates were brought out he saw you sneaking glances at what was in front of him. He wanted to ask you if you wanted a bite, but did that seem to relationshipy?? After you excused yourself to go to the restroom, he cut a piece of his meal off and set it on your plate. He would have given you his entire breakfast if he knew how bright you were going to light up when you came back and saw what he did.

When breakfast was finished, it was you that suggested that the two of yall do something else. He willingly let you drag him into a bath and body works store. At first he was a bit apprehensive, but you guided him over to the mens section. 'I'll break you just like I broke Benny' , "You'll break me? That sounds like a threat' , 'Just smell the candle, Frankie'. He lost track of how many candles he smelled by the time you were checking out. At this point he wasn't sure if it was the perfumes or you that were clouding his brain and making him feel all warm and fuzzy. 'I noticed you liked this one a lot' you told him producing a three wicked candle 'I wanted to get it for you as a thank you gift for helping me today'. He wondered if you saw his heart jump into his throat.

Although his favorite time to watch you was when you were asleep. He never dreamed in a million years that he would be luck enough to have someone as beautiful and kind as you lay in bed next to him. Your body was huddled up as close as could be to his. Your face was smooshed up against his bicep and he could feel your gentle breathing tickling his skin. He brushed a hair that falls in your face away and cursed at it for threatening to wake you up.

Frankie felt differently in the way that he carries himself since he has met you. Honestly, he had seen a change in each and every one of the guys. He felt like he was coming back to life again.

***

Reader/Estrella- lala

I feel like it is fairly obvious that Estrella is 'lala'. I didn't want to write a specific one for her as she is featured in each of the boy's character descriptions and can be seen displaying 'lala' characteristics. I will say, what I love about her is her ability to so easily adapt to the people around her. Her overall personality doesn't change, but she is able to understand what Frankie, Santi, Will, and Benny all need from her. Estrella can bring Will and Frankie (okok) out of the prisons of their minds and mess around on the same caliber as Santi and Benny (lala). She is talker while also being quite the listener. She knows when one is needed and can let the other take a back seat. Estrella loves these boys more than she ever thought she would and I can't wait to see how she spends the rest of her time in Florida with them.

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Notes: Hello to noonie and everyone else who made it to the end of my little brain dump ! I loved this ask so so much and again im sorry it took me so long to complete ! I hope this sufficiently answers your ask ((: thank you again for submitting it to me <3

{tag list: @cutesyscreenname @rsquared31 @smol-beb @bitchwitch1981 @avastrasposts @hoeslingz @saltybutteredtoast @javicstories @c-justhere @pimosworld @modernperplexity @beboldbebravethings @mxtokko @moonliqhtszn @tanzthompson @megcads @myloveistoolittle @casa-boiardi @jitterbugs927 @partyofone3413 @pedrit0-pascalit0 @golden-library @pati-et-vivere @mashomasho @lilmizmoz @angstylittlepascal @sofiparallel @selflcontrol @adriennemichelle98 @painitemoondust @pedritosgirl2000 @tpwkmera @romanarose @missbabyjay @missgurrl }

#through the scope #through the scope drabble #through the scope headcanon #frankie morales fanfiction #benny miller fanfiction #william miller fanfiction #santiago garcia fanfiction #i love asks #literally please blow up my asks

[lazar-codes]

01/02/2024 || Day 11 (dop)

TLDR:

🔸 added last class' ASL words to my program

🔸 worked on toggle for Frontend Mentor project

🔸 started and finished an illustration for fanart

🔸 started and nearly finished editing and rendering my recording of my illustration

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I can't believe I'm sick again. I've gotten sick for 3 out of the past 4 months, and I'm annoyed. Luckily this is the mildest illness compared to the other 2, but it's still not fun. All my symptoms have been spread out, so the past 3 days I've had one runny nostril, yesterday I was completely exhausted, this morning I lost my voice, and now the other nostril's runny.

Work

Frontend Mentor - I've been slowly chipping away at this project but now I gotta get my butt into gear because I wanted to finish this in January, and it's now February and I still have a lot left to do. Today I worked on the implementation of the toggle between the "monthly" and "yearly" plans, and I got it to work by changing the display to either the "monthly" or "yearly" cost to be either "none" or "block". This is basically what the HTML looks like, and below's the functionality for the toggle.

Basically, I get all the elements that have the term "plan_cost" as their class name and for each element, depending on what the toggle is on (i.e. monthly or yearly) I change their display property. I can fix the code to make it not repetitive, but for now it's fine. I've been doing this project using TypeScript and some of my errors are a little confusing, but Google is a good resource.

Anyways, here's what I have so far. It ain't much, but it's honest work;

Art

Ok, I'm gonna do a bit of a ramble here. I've been replaying The Last of Us Part 2 throughout all of January and I finished it last week. It's still an emotionally heavy game, but it did the trick and motivated me to want to draw some fanart. I've been sketching random stuff in my sketchbook almost every day (not lately now that I'm sick but whatever), but there's one idea that I had that I kept on coming back to, and today I had enough energy to sit down, open up Photoshop, and just draw it. And oh man, that felt really good! I haven't drawn in Photoshop in a while because I've been forcing myself to use Procreate, but it's just not the same. I feel like PS allows me to draw with more control of my lines and details and such, and my image just looks sharper than on Procreate. So I actually managed to pump out a piece that looks pretty much how I imagined it would look, and I didn't get frustrated like I would on Procreate. I also recorded my process and was working on making it a speedpaint, but nearly 4 hours of raw footage was rough on my PC and it's already super late at night, so I'll finish up that process tmr. I love making speedpaints and watching them afterwards. At least that'll count for my days of productivity tmr.

#studyblr #100 days of code #codeblr #programming #coding #lazar blogs #100 days of productivity

[shortnonsense]

Old Shoes

by M. James

I was 10 at one point. Now I’m not. I hate that.

My mom says I’m just like her, so I guess it’s written in stone, but maybe there is room to be my own person. My sister is not like me. She seems to know the answers before the questions and doesn’t even care that some of us ask why. But such is the life of the 13-year old daughter of an engineer. Dad says he wanted 3.25 children; I think that’s meant to be an engineer joke, but usually I lose track of time when he says anything over eight words. I wake up suddenly an hour later and I don’t know where I’ve been.

What was I saying?

Oh. 3.25 kids. Yeah, that math didn’t work out, and I have a sister and two twin little monsters—I mean, brothers. Their names aren’t important. What is important is that I used to be 10.

My mom had aspirations once, I think, but now she seems to be happy to get through the day. I’ve seen the degrees and pictures of her PKD (aka pre-kid days), and she looked happier then. I know she loves us, and we make her happy also; it’s just that I don’t think she has spoken with her face lately to get on the same page with her heart.

When I was 10, it was just me and my sister, which meant is was mainly just me. My sister tends to live above us all. Now it’s all noise, and movement, and…where are my old shoes? I’ve been going through my closet for hours, and all I can think about was that I was 10 once. And that is when I went to the mall to buy shoes.

“Clara!” I heard my dad yell from downstairs, and most likely from the garage. I’m sure he’s been sitting in the car waiting on me. I guess I’ll be late again. But I really wanted to wear those old shoes to school today!

“Clara! Get in the car! You’ve had three tardies this month already, and I don’t want to have another meeting with your teacher!” yelled dad.

“I’m coming!” I yelled back.

“…then I told her to mind her own business, but she kept asking. I walked out and told her that I could do what I wanted, that she wasn’t even my real mom…” droned my friend/acquaintance that I’m required to listen to since we are lab partners in third period life science. Her name? Not really important, either. I mean—names just come and go, in the next class it will be another name, going on and on about something they know I don’t really care about, but have to act like I care about it because of all of this forced socializing. My mom says I’m an introvert. I think I just don’t like most people. And I think I just want to get this report done, but I’m the only one working.

“Class, take your seats. Open your text books to page 324. Anyone remember what we discussed yesterday?” shouts Mrs. Life Science Teacher, ending my suffering. Now for the “sit and try to listen to someone else” time. But really, I do like school. I just remember liking it more when I was 10. Now I feel like one of those little metal balls bouncing around inside one of the games they always show on retro shows about the 1980’s. I just bounce from one name to the next, smiling and nodding. Till 4 pm when I get to go back home, to my room, to my closet. Where are those old shoes?

The drive home is quiet. It is March and rainy, which means it’s that stretch of school between Spring Break and Summer with no days off, and everyone, including the teachers, are just trying to get to the end of the year without a major incident. Last year, that one boy got sick after his family trip to Mexico, and he spent several weeks in the hospital. We made cards. What was his name? I don’t remember. I do remember drawing a sun on the card I made him. I don’t know why we draw suns on cards, maybe they’re supposed to make people happy or something.

“BOOM!”

An explosion rocks the car, and I have no idea what is happening. The explosive noise jerks me out of my thoughts, and I find I am now gripping my sister’s hand tightly enough to make her squeal and rip here arm away.

“Hold on!” screams my mom in a way that makes me think she is really yelling at herself. Her usual, casual grip on the steering is now a stern 10 and 2. The car starts to weave and shake as the tire makes this loud throbbing sound. We all start to collectively realize the tire has blown as the car slows to a halt on the inside shoulder of a very busy Interstate 10. Jacksonville is busy at 4:30pm on a Tuesday, and we are no longer in the flow of busy parents trying to pick up their kids between work and soccer practice.

Time stops. Life was going at the speed of a school day, and then nothing. Cars blow by, making us shake with each passing. What now? This is certainly a first. Nothing ever interrupts the drive to and from school, except for that one time I forgot my backpack with my book report on the life of Alexander the Great. I got a C +. But now life has been interrupted. My mom is trying to get my dad on the phone while my sister starts quoting standard procedures for times of emergency.

“Yes, on the side of the road! We’re stuck out here, and I am not getting out of this car in this kind of traffic! We’re lucky we didn’t flip!” my mom blurts as she tries to get all the words out at once to my dad, who clearly has been interrupted from some important work meeting. “Okay, okay, you’re right, we’re fine. Yes, I’ll call our road-side assistance. Yes, we’ll sit tight.” Her words become slower as we all start to settle into the situation.

A few minutes later we all have our eyes locked on little blue and red converging dots that tell us exactly how soon our salvation will arrive. I’m starting to feel like maybe this is the most exciting thing I’ve ever experienced. I have never been in this situation before, and it is so foreign to me. I have seen cars on the side of the road and have wondered what it would be like to be in such a helpless situation; now here we are, here I am. Helpless, dependent on the blue dot to get here as fast as possible. I wonder how in the world this person coming to our aide will even be able to get to us since the cars appear to be going 100 miles an hour, mere inches from my door! We, of course, have no idea what the damage might be to our gold 2010 Camry. It is going to be mine one day, my sister always jokes, because she plans to buy her own, much better car, but now…who knows. That noise makes me wonder if anything is left back there. I had no idea a tire popping could make such a noise.

Finally, an hour later, the dots finally become one, and the tow truck we saw zip by 15 minutes ago has finally swung back around is was slowly positioning itself on the shoulder to get even with our car. While waiting, Mom called several times to yell at several people. I think she really had to pee, and the call center couldn’t solve that particular problem. Turns out there were only two trucks in our part of Jacksonville today, and the other one is stuck in the middle of a 4-car pile up on the 95. Just our luck to blow a tire on Tommy’s day off. That is name of the driver of what would have been the third truck, the one who might have been able to get to us 30 minutes sooner. Which would have been a whole 30 minutes sooner to find out that our car doesn’t just need a new tire, it needs to be towed to the shop to fix the axle, our driver explains.

Tommy. That was a name that was important. Isn’t that odd. A name of someone not there was more important to me than all of those who were there, all the time, and never went away. Tommy was important because if he had been the one to stumble out of his rusted rig I might be that much closer to finding my old shoes. Now, this other guy, who smells like he lives in his tow truck, is trying to work out what the plan will be with my mom, who is getting more and more frustrated. She must really have to pee now.

One more call to Dad, more time waiting in the car, and soon it has been explained to my sister and I that we need to choose. Go with Mom and the Camry in the tow truck, or go with Dad in his car. Not like I get a vote, but it’s nice of Mom to phrase it like I do. As my sister argues the merits of her going with Dad, I watch the tow truck driver begin to hook up the Camry to this big crane-looking thing. Why can’t we just ride in the Camry like normal when it’s being towed? It doesn’t seem like it matter to me whether we ride in the car like normal or ride in the car while someone pulls us. Things like this didn’t ever happen when I was 10.

Jake. His name is Jake. Our driver. It says so on the little patch on his shirt. And just like that I am now aware of two important names. But Jake isn’t important like Tommy is. Jake is important because I cannot believe I am going to have to sit on his gross seat, in his gross truck, smelling his gross smells, all the way to wherever cars go to get fixed when they blow up on Interstate 10 after school on a Tuesday. I slide as close to Mom as I can. You’d think a vehicle that literally pulls other vehicles around would have a back seat, but this one barely even has a front seat! And what surface area that does exist is littered with Big Mac cartons and wrappers from what must be his favorite corner store snack.

My mom and I sit still in the cab of the truck while Jake finishes up. My dad picked up my sister 20 minutes ago and left us to die. That’s probably just me being dramatic. But that’s what it feels like. Why couldn’t we all go with my dad? Great question. But I guess 13-year old girls named Clara who used to be 10 don’t get those kinds of answers.

My mom busies herself on her phone, texting with friends about the ordeal, while I watch Jake in the rearview mirror. There is a radio, which is something. He has it on some station that primarily features people arguing about the recent blowout loss by the Jaguars. I was actually aware of this recent happening since I remember my dad yelling at the TV on Sunday, saying many of the same things these people are conveying. I myself am thoroughly disinterested in football, or sports, or most things people argue about with strangers.

I jump when the door opens and Jake hops in to sit next to me with much more athletic prowess than I would guess a man of his weight could accomplish.

“Hey there!” Jake says through an awkward grin. Something tells me he doesn’t get many 13-year old passengers.

“Hi,” I find myself whispering back, with what is most likely an equally awkward smile. I had been so wrapped up in my critique of Jake’s apparent lack of workplace cleanliness that I had lost track of his movement. I am not ready for this conversation, and now I am having it, and he is way closer than I expected. This middle seat must have been designed for three very small people, not one large man in his mid 50’s, one regular-sized mom, and one me.

“Pretty crazy, right?” Jake asked. “That tire of yours really messed up your back quarter panel. Your car may take a few weeks get it up and running again.”

“Huh,” I mutter, trying to find some similar personal experience that will make me able to in some way say something relevant to the point Jake is making. I fail. This is why we have phones. To give us something to stare at instead of doing whatever we have to do right now. But no, I have to wait another year till that magic age of 14 to have a phone. I guess in six months I’ll be responsible. Until then, It’s just me.

Jake cranks up the engine as we try to ease into the closest lane. Soon, we are up to speed, and I see that our destination has already been loaded into the GPS. To my relief we are in store for a fairly short drive. At least I thought. But at this point my mom states that if we do not stop for a bathroom, she will just have to go then and there. Which is not that worst thing you can hear from you mom while riding in a cramped, smelly tow truck, but It’s probably on the top 10. Top 5 even.

Five minutes later, we pull into a 7-11, where Mom grabs me out of the truck, and we both run to the bathroom. The trip back to the truck is much slower, and mom is evidently feeling much better. We climb back up into the truck, and Jake begins to ease the gas down as we drive back out onto the frontage road. He must have found time to grab another of his favorite snacks while we were in the girls’ room, and as he struggles with the wrapper, I hear him let out what I can only describe as sorrow. “Oh man, this does not look good,” he states, like we are both examining recent roadkill. He points to the GPS screen, and it dawns on me that our route, which was very much green, is now red, and red is bad. In the time it took for our little side trip, something must have changed on our path that turned our quick 20-minute drive into over an hour. Soon we find ourselves sitting in what might as well have been a five-mile long parking lot on the interstate. After several minutes of no movement, we all watch with horror as the time to our destination grows exponentially bigger and bigger. Sirens make themselves known in the distance, slowly gaining volume as they pass by us, rushing to whatever accident has caused all of this, and with that, Jake turns off the ignition. This, in my mind, is the same as holding up the white flag of surrender. Bottom line—I am now looking at over an hour of forced, awkward conversation with someone I never should have even met.

Did I say I don’t like people? Yes, I think I did. And my mom is no help, becoming more and more absorbed in some article she is reading that was posted on her favorite blog.

Jake sighs, looks in the mirror, then asks, “So, how old are you?”

“13,” I say.

“I used to be 13,” Jake states, like it is a revelation from God.

“I have these old shoes,” I say to Jake several minutes later. “I’ve been looking for them for days. They are my favorite shoes, even though I haven’t worn them in a while. I bought them when I was 10. I used to be 10.” I don’t know why I’m telling him this fact about my current state of being. But somehow my conversation with Jake is going differently than the back and forth banter I usually endure from classmates and my sister.

Jake goes on to describe what it was like to be 13, a young boy, being raised by a single mom in North Carolina. He moved to Florida when he was 30 and has bounced around from one job to the next ever since. Never being able to get back to that feeling of unfiltered opportunity like he had when he was 13.

It’s like he is searching for something that he has lost and can’t seem to find it. Now he’s 54, driving a tow truck around Jacksonville 6 days a week, is admittedly overweight, doesn’t have many friends, and often thinks about his life choices that have led him here. But mainly, he remembers that he used to be 13.

I used to be 10. “When I was 10,” I continue, “my dad took me to the mall one day, and I saw these shoes in the window of Macy’s, and I begged him for them. Eventually, he let me try them on, and after some more begging, I was walking out of the store with them wrapped up in this big, expensive-looking bag.”

“They sound nice,” Jake interjects. I know there is no way he can understand the feeling of buying new shoes as a young girl, but it is nice of him to try.

“The reason these particular shoes were such a big deal is that up till that point, every pair of shoes I ever wore had first been worn by my older sister.

“Ah!” Jake slips out, with comprehension that leaves me surprised. “Hand-me-downs, yes, those were common in my family. I was an only child, but with my mom being low on cash most of the time, I got my wardrobe out of a bag of clothes that was left on our doorstep by the family down the street that had two older boys, and they loved to point out the fact that I was always wearing clothes they were going to throw away.”

I let that statement linger a few minutes. We actually get to move forward about a quarter mile before yet another full stop. Another tow truck passes by to hopefully help clear the congestion several miles ahead.

“I wore those shoes every day for the whole school year,” I eventually say. “They were more than shoes, they were opportunity and freedom. They were truly mine, not something that was just mine now. Somehow, though, I lost track of them over the summer—I hardly ever wear actual shoes during the summer since it’s all flip flops and swimming. Then, when it was time to go back to school, there were more shoes in my closet, and I guess I just moved on. But now I’m 13, and I used to be 10, and I just want to find those old shoes.”

Jake looks at me for a while. My mom shifts positions, somehow able to tune out our conversation, aside from occasional comments about this traffic and how she had no idea it would take this long.

Finally, Jake’s eyes brighten, and he seems to have stumbled upon some kind of realization. “I’m sorry you can’t find your old shoes,” he says. “They sound very important to you. It is difficult growing up, leaving things behind, figuring out the new things.”

I look at him sideways, wondering how he jumped to that conclusion. I was talking about my shoes. I just want to find my old shoes. I wasn’t talking about growing up, or whatever.

Jake goes on. “I used to be 13, and the world fit inside my bedroom. One day I turned 14, then 15, then 16, and suddenly the world didn’t fit anymore. My world had gotten larger, but sometimes I’d think back on what it was like to be 13. I still do. Just like I think about what it was like to be 25 and 40. When I could run and not ache, or when I still had my mom, or when I still had dreams and goals. Now I look at the world rush by, as I sit on the side of the road. The only time I catch up to anyone is when they crash or break down. ‘Forced timeouts,’ I call them.”

He went on. “There are things, experiences, people even, that lock us into a time in our lives. It makes it easier to remember what it was like then after so much has changed. Our world moves on, but those things are locked in time. Like your old shoes.”

Jake pauses with that and lets his words drift through my mind. I was starting to think Jake was an important name for more reasons than I first assumed.

“I used to be 10,” I said, “and it was so much easier. Things made more sense to me, and now so much doesn’t. It was just me and my shoes. I just want to find them again.”

I wave goodbye to Jake as he pulls out of the repair shop parking lot. His is a name I will remember. My mom finishes speaking with the manager, working out the plan and cost of the repairs. It had taken so long for us to arrive that my dad is now able to swing by after finishing up at the office. My sister has been home for hours. I slide into the back seat next to a large garbage bag.

“Oh, just move that over, Honey. I forgot I still had that back there. I was supposed to drop it off at your cousin Ellie’s house last week,” explained Dad.

I stare at the bag as a thought begins to form. It is mixed with the story that Jake shared, the one about the bag of hand-me-downs he received from the people down the street from him. I untie the knot in the bag and peer inside. Just as I suspect, it is filled with clothes. My cousin is a few years younger than us, and since my younger brothers won’t be wearing my clothes, my parents often bag them up and drop them off for her to use. As I dig through the bag, I recognize shirts and dresses from years past. Some I remember liking, others I rarely wore.

Then my hand brushes against something hard under the stack of shorts. I have a rush of adrenaline as I reach in to grasp the item, pulling it into the light. “My old shoes!” I exclaim, apparently louder than intended, as my mom jumps at the sound.

“Yes, Honey, I put those in the giveaway bag months ago. You never wear them, and I don’t think they even fit you anymore,” explained Mom.

I hear her words, but they somehow don’t hit the mark she intends. Instead, I want to lash out, my anger stirred after such a difficult day. I am about to scream at her, tell her how she should never have thought to give away my favorite shoes, when something stops me.

I picture a 13-year old Jake, sitting in his room, playing. I used to be 10. I remember running to school in these shoes. I loved how I felt in them. They were mine, and the world made sense. But I’m not 10 anymore, just like Jake isn’t 13. Our worlds have grown, and for me 13 is scary, but it’s what I am. I need to stop looking for my old shoes, let someone else have them.

I slide them back in the bag and let it settle to the floorboard. “You’re right, I say to Mom. Ellie will love them. They are great shoes.”

After a few more minutes of driving, I ask, “Mom, can I go to a party next weekend? It’s a birthday party for my friend from Life Science class.”

“Probably,” says my mom. “What’s her name?” she asks.

“Shelby.”

#my writing #writeblr #short story #growing up #childhood memories #nostaligic #life lessons #life learning

[no-phrogs-in-hats]

If I Could Turn Back Time

Larissa Weems x Fem!Reader

A/N: This fic is cross-posted on Wattpad and Ao3

Chapter 3

“You don’t have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step.”

— Martin Luther King, Jr.

First period had started ten minutes before as I rushed into the building. The halls were void of students and staff, and the only sound was the squeaking of my coffee-sodden shoes on the white tiles. 

Every head in the classroom shot up from their phone as I burst through the door, setting my bag down and taking out the soaked papers to dry. “I am so sorry, guys!”

“Miss Foster,” one kid said. “Is that coffee on you?”

I paused and stared at them like a deer in headlights. “Um–uhh…yeah.” I began to set up my desk–booting up my computer, filing away papers, trying my best to not cry at the feeling of wet socks–while simultaneously trying my best to form a coherent response. “Little accident at the Weathervane. I ended up spilling all of my latte on me…and another customer.”

I took a deep breath and fixed my shirt, sighing as I tried to gather my thoughts, but something–her–she lingered in the back of my head. Larissa. Not even ten minutes together and her eyes, her smile, her very person was already imprinted in my mind. “Okay–uh…what class is this again? First period? Right, okay. Where’d we leave off yesterday?”

“The intro to the Russian Revolution of 1917,” a girl in the back answered.

“Right!” I moved to the white board and took a marker, drawing a long line with dashes here and there. When the timeline was built, I began to lecture the students, smiling to myself when turned away from them, knowing that they had no clue I had first hand experience with the subject at hand.

“Okay, the Russian Revolution…” I started. “As we learned yesterday, the revolution was initiated in February of 1917. The first revolt was centered around the capital at the time, Petrograd. This would later become Saint Petersburg. Tsar Nicholas II eventually stepped down from the throne after being convinced by the high ranking military officials that in doing so, the mutinies and turmoil would subside. This would allow the new government, led by the Russian Duma, to take over, and this becomes the Russian Provisional Government.” 

I looked across the sea of students all looking at the board, some taking notes, and one trying to not fall asleep. “Can anyone tell me what was a major contributing factor to the 1917 revolution?”

A girl in the back shot her hand up quickly. “Oh! The Russian Revolution of 1905.”

“Good!” To know that at least one of my students was paying attention and that I wasn’t talking to the wall always filled me with hope–especially in a town like this. “As we learned last week, the events of Bloody Sunday caused a lot of upheaval. If you turn to page 276 of your textbook you can see a primary source image of propaganda from 1905, and if you turn to page 301 you can also see a comparison of the multiple revolutions Russia had pre-World War One and throughout…”

The soft glow of lamplight encases the living room as the TV plays quietly in the background. I scan over tests, marking each incorrect answer and unfortunately recording more D’s than A’s. 

I glance at my phone. It had been an entire day since I spilled coffee on Larissa. I had no idea who she was or what she did for a living, but scenarios crossed my mind as to why she hadn’t reached out yet.

What if she was just being polite?

What if she wants nothing to do with me?

I barely know this woman and I’m already craving her approval and attention.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I don’t even know her last name and I’m already clinging to her.

It had been three days since the incident and now I was convinced Larissa wanted nothing to do with me. I stood in line at the Weathervane, staring off into space. As I stepped up to the counter, I smiled and placed my order before moving off to the side to wait. But once again I was a complete idiot.

“Wow, I really need to start looking where I’m going,” I huffed after running straight into her.

The softest smile from her sent butterflies through my chest. It was incredible, the effect this woman had on me. “Well, at least there was no coffee this time.” 

Larissa’s giggle was the sweetest sound to grace my ears. 

“Oh, by the way,” she continued. “I just wanted to apologize for not messaging you sooner. I’ve been quite busy recently.”

I smiled back, relieved it was all in my head. “That’s fine! I completely understand. I’m a history teacher at Jericho High School, so I’m well acquainted with ‘busy’.”

Larissa paused for a moment. “Would you want to sit down with me? I have some free time so I didn’t order my coffee as takeaway.”

“I would love that,” I said after taking a second to think. “But, unfortunately, I have to be at work in fifteen minutes.”

I could’ve sworn there was a look of disappointment in Larissa’s eyes. The blue hue grew ever so slightly darker and her smile faltered briefly before widening. “That’s quite alright. Your students come first.”

“Well,” I chuckled. “More like my need to pay the bills comes first. The students can be a pain in the rear, but you do have a point. The students are our future. And to have a better future they need a good education.”

The entire day I couldn’t stop thinking about her. It got so bad to the point where I actually had to give one of the classes a free period. “I need to catch up on grading,” I told them. 

What a lie.

I spent the entire time thinking about Larissa. How her hips swayed when she walked. How her perfect red lips would curve into the sweetest smile. And how her eyes could tell you every emotion she ever had. 

“Miss Foster?” 

“Miss Foster?”

A voice brought me from my trance and I looked up at the girl. How long had she been standing there? “Oh god. I’m sorry, Macy. What can I help you with?”

“Well, I just had a question about this section of the assignment you gave us yesterday…”

As she explained her problem it was hard to focus. Out of the corner of my eye I could see my phone screen light up with a text. My heart practically burst at the unknown number and suddenly, for the time ever, I didn’t want to help a student. 

But, I did. I answered her questions, and I helped her answer an essay prompt about the early civilization lesson we were going over. As soon as she sat back down I picked up my phone, and sure enough it was Larissa.

‘I was just wondering if you’d be available to go to dinner tomorrow night? A new restaurant opened up in the square, and I’ve been meaning to try it.’

Dinner. She does want to go to dinner. 

‘And what about the dry cleaning?’

‘The lady said she couldn’t do anything about it. The fabric was too light.’

Figures. 

‘I’m available anytime after 4.’

‘Is 5:30 okay?’

‘Sounds perfect. I’ll see you then.’

I don’t think I had ever been so impatient in my life until then. It was less than a day away and my heart was already fluttering uncontrollably, and it felt like years before the final bell of day had rung, dismissing the students from class.

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #wednesday #gwendoline christie

[youchangedmedestiel]

Confession time

It has been 6 months (more or less) since I joined Tumblr and AO3 and I finally told my friends. I couldn't not tell them because it has become a big part of my life now, especially writing fanfics. A year ago I wasn't even writing a single word in my native language. And NOW I can't stop writing. Like it's a new hobby. And I think I just can't live without it anymore.

It took me a long time to tell them because I was scared of their reactions to be honest. I know they are open because otherwise we wouldn't be friends but still. I was scared they find that ridiculous or worse that they didn't understand how important it is for me and how much it changed me.

And man, they reacted sooo well. One already read fanfics since high school and loves Dean and Destiel. Plus I already send her some of my fics. The second one hasn't watched SPN and doesn't know a thing about Tumblr and fanfiction. And the last one is a Sam girl and is not really into reading fanfiction but still wanted to read what I wrote about Destiel. So I picked one, that wasn't easy to choose but I did and I hope she likes it or at least doesn't throw up while reading it.

Anyway, their backgrounds might be different, but all of them found it awesome and asked me why I haven't told them before. And I told them that it was also because I had to process the whole thing on my own, because it FUCKING changed me and the perception I had of myself. But that's also why I had to tell them, because it changed me that much and if they didn't know about it, it's like they would know me anymore.

So if you don't know how to talk about it to your friends but want to and you need inspiration then here below, this is what I sent them to explain. It might not be everyone's experience though but there this is mine:

"I should tell you because it's been 6 months now, so I've had plenty of time to accept it. You know how abnormal I am about Supernatural and especially Dean and Cas. Like, it never did that to me with any show before and when I say THAT you don't know what I'm talking about because I didn't tell you. The THAT: I created a Tumblr account, where I follow people, people I don't know follow me and I post stuff on it on SPN, on Destiel. I also created an AO3 account. Where I read fanfics but not only. Hold on tight. Me, who didn't like French or English classes when we were at school. You know me, I've never been literary, let alone in another language. But now I write fanfics in English and I LOVE it. It's my new passion, it's become a big part of my life and I think it helps me on a daily basis, I'm sure it does, like it helped me a lot especially when I had nothing to do all day when I was unemployed and it still helps me. Because it's a way of expressing myself and when I'm inspired it's an incredible feeling, I've never really known that before (except maybe when I was drawing) and I can't live without it now. I spend a lot of my free time on it and it's still not enough, which is also why I get frustrated when my weekends feel too short. It's because I'd like to take more time off to work on all the fanfic ideas I have. Because I can't always write between my evening shower and preparing dinner because it's too short, sometimes I need to take time to be able to sort out my ideas. But sometimes it just comes to me, like Saturday morning when I was just waking up in bed, I wrote a few hundred words because an idea popped into my brain. So I wanted to tell you because it's important to me. It may sound ridiculous to some, but I don't care because the feelings it gives me when people like what I write or comment that the characters sound like themselves or that I've made them cry make me happy (yes, I do like making people cry, apparently lmao). Yesterday I wasn't doing too well, I couldn't get any work done. I must have PMS going on or some crap like that, I felt empty and I didn't feel like doing anything because I couldn't see the point, whatever. I wrote a few cute words about Dean and Cas, my loves, and it made me feel better. It's kind of magical. I feel like my writing has improved a bit in 6 months. I don't think I can live without writing anymore anyway, and I never thought I'd say that one day. Here you know everything, it frustrated me that you didn't know, because it's cool to share it with strangers online but if my friends don't know about it, it doesn't make sense 😘 especially given the role and place it has in my life."

#destiel #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #supernatural #spn #when I say destiel change me #I'm not kidding #and I finally told my friends #they know now how much it changed me #now that I acknowledged it #now that I accepted it #now that I owned it #that's the first time I'm sharing this much in here #but maybe it can help someone who knows #or maybe it can help me to know i'm not the only one #writing fanfiction #fic authors #fanfic writing #my destiel fanfic #my personal experience with destiel #my personal experience with spn

[forabeatofadrum]

Guys, it is El WooWoo Wednesday and all the others. We know the drill by now. But you know what is big news? It’s February, aka Figuary! Thank you @artsyunderstudy​ for the tag on this fine Figuary day.

(Gonna plug my figure drawing Snowbaz AU The Naked Truth real quick!)

Yesterday I didn’t write anything new to make a fire out of this flame, but instead I spent an hour formatting it. The good thing about textfics is that I do not care for typos etc., but the bad part is the formatting. I should’ve taken the Little Numbers approach, but I also love the occasionally silly usernames.

I am actually a bit stuck on the ending, though. Like... I am so close to finishing it, I can practically taste it, if it were able to taste fics (this would be a fun ask game, as in, what would your fic taste like?)

Have some pining Baz:

I have some general writing thoughts under the tags and cut, so feel free to skip them, but first the weather, and by weather I mean the tags. I started Welcome to Night Vale yesterday after all the #cecilsweep hype, but I actually used this bad joke before.

ANYWAY. Tags! @quizasvivamos @blurglesmurfklaine @coffeegleek @esperantoauthor @otherworldsivelivedin @caramelcoffeeaddict @sillyunicorn @bazzybelle @dragoneggos @raenestee @tectonicduck @nightimedreamersworld @urban-sith @thnxforknowingme @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @takitalks @justgleekout @cerriddwenluna @tea-brigade @ivelovedhimthroughworse @moodandmist @whogaveyoupermission @bookish-bogwitch @confused-bi-queer @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @ionlydrinkhotwater @1908jmd @special-bc-ur-part-of-it @larkral @chen-chen-chen-again-chen​ @cutestkilla ​ @nausikaaa​/@wellbelesbian​​ @facewithoutheart @boyinjeans​ @captain-aralias​ @martsonmars​

Basically I am thinking about how I want to approach writing this year. I like writing. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here yapping about writing, but I have talked plenty about what I have dubbed “my girlboss situation”, which is that I took on so many things last year that I was “girlbossing too close to the sun”, which I need to credit Christina’s fic Thirst Trapped for, which in turn has to credit TikTok. So I am already not doing potenial challenges like the Klaine CC Valentine’s challenge and the Carry On Big Bang, and I am very on the fence about the Klaine Roulette because I want to join but also... no... girlboss situation. But I do want to do something.

I know I have many WIPs and that I also want to finish them, but there is just so much to write and honestly, I don’t mind if it takes a while. That’s why I came up with the whole hospital thing.

So I guess I am doing smaller new things now? I knew I was fucked when I claimed not one, but two prompts at the AU Please! fest, but come on, one was “Dex has the superpower to turn into a lobster”. I might actually drop that one, because I have no idea what to write for it, so ideas are welcome. And the other is a prompt where Jack travels in time and meets his past/future self, and I picked that one in the hope to get me back into my own Zimbits time travel fic. Apart from AU Please! I will do some small things for that new Radio Silence challenge, because if there’s one thing that will break my restraint, it’s a small fandom. If someone takes the effort to make the possibly first challenge for a fandom, then I am 🥹. But I hope that all of these fics will be around 1k. There was, for example, another prompt in AU Please! that I absolutely love, but the story that I saw unraveling in my mind was a big one so *wink wink nudge nudge* if you are a Zimbits writer, please claim the role reversal one so that I can read it.

I don’t really have a point here. I said above the cut that it’s just some musings. It’s on my mind because my 3rd university semester happened and I had an existential crisis at 1:30AM, as you do, about my potential OFFLINE girlboss situation (2 commissions at my queer organisation, master thesis, Chinese classes, art organisation, sidejob, intensive university course... ya... I may have girlbossed too close to the sun here) and I had a moment of “what do I do with my limited free time I do not have time to write if I also want to read and paint and draw and game.”

Look, I know I just wrote a WIP for my SJAEU about how terrible it actually is for Luke to be awake 24/7, but also, he does have more time than I do!

But yeah. Just some musings from a 24 year old having a potential quarter to life crisis. Also, I only recently found out I’ve been misspelling potential for over a decade. I wrote potentional. No idea where the extra o and n came from.

#wip wednesday #tagged in #i wrote the lesbian thing after i came home from a dinner thing where we talked about the lesbische liga's podcast yada yada long story #niall: yOU STARTED IT MAN

[cyberscratch]

Forgot to post these doodles yesterday! I have quite a few character design concepts for OCs laying around, all being worked on slowly before I make them an official OC or before I find a correct role for them in their story they belong to... I wanted to draw some of them properly, and this is it!! (I have more than this, but these are the ones I did draw yesterday.)

Below are explanations for all of them!!

1) The most recent, and simple of them all! I was taking notes in math class... There was a triangle and two long arrows pointing below it at some text. One was red, and the other was blue. I saw that and thought "WOAH THAT'S!! A LITTLE GUY!!!" So I stopped paying attention entirely as I always do in math, and doodled this guy some more. I love them! They need something more on their body and I am afraid the bowtie will make them look too much like Bill Cipher, but... They're cute!

2) An Addison child OC for DPAU! I had an idea for a plot to happen within DPAU, but it'd require a new character... And it's this fella! Since I'm not fully set on including it yet, I won't share the details. I had the idea for their design one day so I scribble down the key parts... And now I finally tried making a full-body proper concept! Liking them so far, though maybe I could make their outfit a bit funkier. Love their hair, though!

3) THE MAN THE LEGEND. He's been in the works for a while!! First as many failed basic shape and idea doodles in class, then inspo boards I never did anything with because I had burnout and art block... To Ms paint doodles which I liked! This design is not the first one, but I feel like I stuck with it too fast. He is very close to the initial vision I had for him, however! Anyways, he's for This Universe Has Lemons, aka whatever Lemmy's universe is. It is after all a weird Lil Lemon Demon kitty hopping thru arious universes, mostly based around Lemon Demon songs. He is based on the "Lime Angel" meme. He's basically a god, and seeing a little kid making portals constantly to hop around for fun is a bit concerning. What If something fucks up? He wants to stop Lemmy, but he couldn't be bothered to do it himself so he makes an angel puppy to get Lemmy. The two become rivals, but in a Tom and Jerry cartoon shenanigans way. To Lemmy, this guy is a mean grown-up and a villain. But he's just doing his job, really. He has several inspos put into his designs!

#character design #character design concept #Oc art #This Universe Has Lemons #Guz art #[2023] #Dpau #Datapack au

[rosesradio]

the heart’s first beat--a byler drabble

word count: 775

warnings: brief discussion of lonnie, hurt/comfort

Will wasn't sure what he did wrong.

He sat against the sycamore tree, and his eyes stung as he tapped his pencil against his drawing. Tied to one of the tree’s thick branches was a giant tire swing, and the thick rope scraped his delicate hands when Will touched it. Mike was there now, in the swing, pushing himself idly. Even at six-and-a-half, he'd grown to be the tallest of the class, the only one whose feet touched the ground when sitting in the swing.

Mike--Michael, the teachers called him, as he hadn't thought to tell them otherwise, because Will was the only one to call him Mike--he was looking at him. He wasn't speaking. Because he just asked if there was trouble at home, with Will's dad, and Will's silence was all the answer he needed.

Will flipped the pages in notebook--his mom couldn't afford a fancy sketchbook like he'd seen on TV, and he didn't expect that of her; his notebook had a tiger on the cover, and she'd gotten it discounted at the store she worked at, and that was the best thing Will could ask for.

He landed on the page he hadn't allowed himself to turn to, as if scared it would turn into something monstrous in the face of his father's words. Words of his own caught in his throat--words, tears, pleas. Whatever it was--the lump in his throat was worth swallowing, to avoid the whole thing.

"I'm sorry I'm not talking," Will said, his voice small. “I just,” he took an unsteady breath. “Got in trouble with dad yesterday.”

“Yeah?” Mike asked, prompting him further.

Will nodded, small fingers tracing along his drawing. It was Mike, in his knight’s armor, brandishing a shield decorated by a heart with a crown on top. Will just liked the design, that was all--when he and Mike played Knights & Wizards, Mike the Knight had a lot of bravery and heart.

“I told mom about how Emma and Mark got married by the slide yesterday. And I thought, maybe...I told her...I mean...we could get married by the slide, too. Because then we could play Knights and Wizards for the rest of our lives. And then...” Will’s eyes watered as he held his thin notebook close, trembling despite the warm April air. “She said that was a good idea. But dad heard and he,” Will shut his eyes, shaking his head.

“Hey,” Mike got down from the tire swing, kneeling down in front of Will. “It’s okay. Your dad sucks, and your mom’s right. That’s two against one, right? I’d much rather marry you play Knights and Wizards than marry someone like Emma. She makes Mark give her the candy from his lunch box every day.”

Will laughed softly, sniffling and wiping his eyes. He looked back down at his drawing, at the heart resting so boldly upon the defensive shield. “Do you think the drawing is stupid? Dad tried to take it away, but mom grabbed it for me...I didn’t mean to cause any trouble...”

“You didn’t,” Mike replied almost instantly. “You never do, Will. Your dad was the one who had a problem. I love the drawing, really...” he gently took the notebook from Will, getting a better look. “If you’ll get in trouble for having the drawing...maybe I could keep it? I’ll hang it up in the basement, I’m the only one who goes down there.”

Will smiled crookedly, tearing off the page gently and handing it over. “Do you plan on starting a whole collection?” he asked, unsure if he was joking or not.

“Of course,” Mike answered, so genuinely it made Will’s face flush. “They’ll be like movie posters for all of our adventures! And this,” he pointed to the heart drawn on his shield. “It’ll be our secret symbol. That we’re a pair, like Emma and Mark. And we are gonna be together, playing Knights and Wizards and anything else we want forever. I promise.”

Will beamed, unable to help but throw his arms around Mike, almost tackling him against the grass. “Thank you, Mike...”

Mike wrapped his arms around Will, returning the hug for only a moment before pulling away--Will knew it was just so potential bullies wouldn’t see, so he didn’t mind.

“Does this mean I can have the candy from your lunchbox?” Will asked hopefully.

Mike groaned, seeming to already regret his decision. “Okay, but only if you promise to make another drawing. With Mike the Knight and Will the Wise.”

Will nodded, flipping the page and immediately getting to work. Oddly--but comfortingly--he could still feel Mike’s eyes on him as he drew.

#i haven't written anything in a while because i don't think i was emotionally connecting with the material but now there's this #also fun fact: i 'dated' a guy named mark in fourth grade and dumped him so i could 'experience heartbreak' (which. ten years later. yikes) #and he ended up 'marrying' a girl named emma on the playground. it was a whole thing #so emma and mark if you're out there-- #i'm pretty sure emma's gay now so #anyways #byler #stranger things #my fic