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judebelle · 4 months

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jude being protective over reader when a guy tries to hit on her at a bar omfgfjgfbhgsjb

didn't think so - j.b. x reader

a/n : this took me so long to write cus i got my nails done and ughhhh

cw : smut, swearing, annoying guy at a bar LMAO, unprotected.. wrap b4 u tap, semi-public sex, dom!jude, possessive!jude

pairing : jude bellingham x fem!reader

wc : 2.2k

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"so, you from 'round here?"

the foreign words hung low in the throbbing atmosphere of a crowded club. the bass reverberated through the floor and neon lights pulsed to the rhythm.

you stopped moving to the music when a stranger approached you. his eyes fixed intently on you. you were left alone in the club when jude had excused himself to go to the restroom. you would've never expected this.

you felt a discomfort in his demeanor, instantly trying to put room between you and the strange man. a smirk played on his lips and his eyes scanned over you, his intentions on full display.

politely, you rejected his presence. "i appreciate the company, but i'm actually here with my boyfriend,"

he dismissed your mention of jude with a wave of his hand. he began to lean in closer, his words becoming increasingly invasive. you scanned the crowd, eagerly and hopelessly awaiting jude's return.

the man grew impossibly more insistent. "come on, sweetheart, we're all here for a good time. loosen up a bit,"

you finally decided on a more direct approach. "really, i'm not interested. i'm here with my boyfriend."

with a sly grin, the persistent stranger continued. "your boyfriend doesn't have to know. let's get out of here, just you and me."

just as you felt his words creep down your spine, jude finally emerged from the restroom, instantly sensing the uncomfortable atmosphere. he quickly maneuvered through the dancing crowd, his eyes not leaving you and the strange man.

he shot the man a piercing stare as he approached the table with long strides. "what's going on here?" he demanded, his voice cutting through the club's music with an edge that you'd never heard from him.

"hey, man, we're just having a good time. no need to be so uptight," the man flashed a toothy grin at jude, who was not having it.

jude's dark eyes flashed with anger, a look so intense even you felt the pressure. he placed a firm and dominating grip on your waist, visibly claiming what's his. "she's not interested. you need to back off and respect that," he commanded.

the stranger looked seemingly amused by jude's words. "oh, come on, don't be such a buzzkill. she seems to be enjoying our conversation just fine."

jude's jaw clenched even tighter. "how about we ask her?" he looked down at you with a raised eyebrow. "babe, are you enjoying this conversation?" when you didn't respond immediately, his grip tightened on your waist. "are you?" you quickly shook your head 'no'.

a cocky smirk broke out on jude's lips. he turned back to the man, "didn't think so," his smirk growing when he saw how intimidated the man was.

"you're testing my patience. i suggest you find another spot in this club. now," jude ordered, his tone sharp.

the man reluctantly walked off to another side of the club. jude kept his dominating hold on your waist, his anger visibly coursing through his features. without turning to face you, his hand switched from your waist to your wrist. his knuckles turned white from his harsh grip. you winced.

"jude, stop! that hurts-"

ignoring you, jude pulled you towards the club bathroom. he kept his painful grip tight. pulling you through bunches of people with a clenched jaw, you were left to mutter excuses and apologies to them. "jude, can you relax? where are we going?"

your questions fell on deaf ears when his gaze was set on the bathroom door. finally reaching it, he opened the door to see no one. he yanked you inside before following. jude shut the door behind him and locked it.

you looked at your wrist that he had stopped squeezing. it was red and tender. "babe.. what's going on?" his eyes flashed down to your wrist, and his gaze softened slightly before hardening again.

he looked back up at you, and there was something different about how he was looking at you. his eyes were glazed over with something... foreign. there was a hunger in his demeanor. in the way he slowly stepped towards you. in the way his hands held onto your waist. in the way spun you and pushed you against the door. in the way his head dipped into the crook of your neck.

his lips pressed hot kisses onto your skin and your eyes shut tight. you gasped out when his soft kissed turned to passionate nips and bites. "jude... not here."

jude's possessive grip softened slightly, his hands now sliding sensuously up your sides. the atmosphere in the bathroom shifted, the air thick with desire.

his mouth left your neck as he leaned in, his lips brushing against the curve of your ear. he whispered, "i can't stand the thought of anyone else trying to get your attention. you drive me crazy. i need you to know you're all mine."

your heart raced at the proximity, breath hitching as jude's words sent shivers down you spine. the muffled music wasn't so loud behind the washroom door, giving your ears a rest. the dim lighting over you illuminated his features in a way that had even you crossing your legs a little.

despite his convincing words, your hesitation was evident. jude's hand slithered to find the end of your dress, but it was so long that by the time he reached the end of it, he was on his knees.

your breath hitched in your throat at the sight of your boyfriend on the floor. jude's big brown eyes peered up at you. "please, y/n. let me show you how much you mean to me." he was... begging.

a quick nod from you was all he needed. you saw his expression change immediately from pleading to dominant. he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder and your hands fell to his shoulders to keep you upright. he moved your skirt to make room for his head, but paused to look up at you, smirking.

"try not to scream."

before you could register jude's words, he had pushed your panties to the side and slotted his mouth on you. everything but profanities erased themselves from your mind. one of your hands found his hair and tugged, hard. jude's lips spread you open as he sucked your clit with fervor.

you found yourself whining when his movements slowed, gradually becoming gentle. you could see jude's occasional peaks up towards you, watching you melt at his touch.

"jude, i can't take it. please..."

you could feel him grin against you. "you look so hot when you're desperate, y/n." the way his name fell from his lips had you biting yours. he finally decided to stop teasing and fully indulge in you. he pressed his mouth flush against your warmth, allowing his tongue to explore every nook and cranny.

the feeling of him forcing you back onto the cold bathroom door sent trembles down your body. you began feeling that familiar feeling of tight heat start unravelling in your stomach. before you knew it, you were practically yanking jude's hair. "please, don't stop."

gasps were flying from your plump lips so fast your heart was about to fly out of your chest. "fuck, jude, don't stop!" unwillingly, your arms were flying around, trying to grab, to hold on to something.

thump, after thump, you helplessly clawed for anything to ground yourself. you ultimately ended up with your hands pulling jude as far as you could between your legs.

he couldn't stop even if he wanted to. if anything, he sped up, his tongue lapping at your juices. "jude, jude," your vision went white and your back arched against the smooth door. the muted music was overpowered by an unfamiliar ring in your ears.

jude looked up at your chest heaving over him. the sight of you all fucked out had him smirking, his ego only growing. he gently licked around your clit, cleaning up any mess you left for him.

he hummed as your sweet juices sat on his tongue. you finally opened your eyes that you didn't realize were screwed tight and let go of his hair.

"i told you to try not to scream." he smiled as he got up off his knees, keeping his eyes on you even when he was towering above yours.

"that was me trying."

his eyes fell to your cleavage and he couldn't help but lean in and press hungry kisses to your collarbone. "not done with you yet, sweetheart."

the excitement of not knowing what was going to happen next had you pooling for him again.

jude's hands dropped to your hips for the nth time tonight before he abruptly spun you around and pressed your chest to the door. your hands slammed against the door to stop your face from smashing into it.

you felt jude pushing your dress up hastily and pulling your underwear down. you didn't move, waiting for his next move patiently. although much patience wasn't needed since jude was moving as fast as he could.

you could hear jude unzipping his own pants and you couldn't help but bite your lip in anticipation. as gross as it might've been, your right cheek was pressed onto the door. you couldn't care less, though, not when jude was pulling himself from his pants behind you.

a groan fell from his mouth so quiet the music almost drowned it out. he stroked himself behind you even though he was already rock hard. he leaned against your back to whisper in your ear shamelessly,

"i know i told you not to scream, but this time i wanna hear you. i want everyone in this fucking club to hear how good i make you feel. maybe then those fucking pricks'll back off."

his hand moved some of your hair from your nape.

"think you can do that for me, princess?"

you eagerly nodded against the door, mouth too dry to speak. he smiled, "good."

jude pulled himself back before his hand grazed over the curve of your ass, his other resting against your lower stomach before he pushed himself in. he went so deep he could feel himself in your stomach, against his own hand.

it was as if he was hitting your vocal cords the way not a single sound could be heard from you despite your mouth being open so wide. jude's pelvis met your ass and he couldn't help but shudder. "fuck..." he whispered out against your back.

he finally started to move slowly, more so for himself than for you since you were squeezing his cock so tight.

jude dropped his hands down to your hips to keep you firmly pressed to the door. "don't move." he growled out. you had never seen this side of jude, but you weren't complaining. you found obeying him to be more enjoyable than expected.

jude's hips sped up, sending jolts of pleasure through your bones. strangled gasps and pants shot out of your mouth, your hot breath fanning over the door.

"that's a good girl, yeah? taking this cock so well." one of jude's hands left your hip to grab your hair and tug. he pulled your neck back until he had access to your neck. he dipped down and sucked marks on the soft skin. your moans turned raspy and you found yourself once again searching for something to hold on to.

your back was arched against his torso as he fucked up into you. you could feel every part of his cock and it was driving you dumb. your mouth was left agape as moans ran from your lips and into the thick air.

"tell me baby, y'think that prick from earlier could fuck you like this?" you gasped as jude's thrusts grew impossibly more rough. "no! god, no... only you can do this to me." he sent a harsh smack to your ass before smoothing it over gently. the pleasure and jolt of pain send your neck flying back further.

"jude, i'm close." you warned and jude kept his antics up. he whispered in your ear. "fuck, i am too..." he groaned out and let go of your hair. he straightened his back and went back to holding your hips in place.

you clenched around his dick, whimpers falling from your mouth. jude's thrusts faltered for the first time tonight. his hand slid down to rub your clit and bring you to your second high of the night. your breath caught in your throat and your eyes rolled back in your skull.

"god, jude, i'm gonna.." you couldn't even finish your sentence so jude did it for you. "cum, y/n. want you to cum all over my cock, shit!" obeying him once again, you finally let that string inside you snap, fully surrendering to the pleasure.

your vision clouded black this time, and you came with a sharp cry, "jude!" screaming his name, you trembled under him. the feeling of your release and juices all over his cock sent him over the edge himself. "fuck!" he groaned out and came with a final thrust. he buried himself deep, sending his seed as far as he could.

both of your pants and gasps were lost in the thumping music of the club. jude helped you stand straight before fixing his clothes. you pulled your panties back and tugged your dress down. you heard jude zip up his pants and you turned to look at him.

he was already looking at you, a smirk playing at his lips.

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musingsofanaroace · 11 hours

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Getting Bullied

I may be oversharing but here goes.

I wasn’t diagnosed with AuDHD until my late thirties. As a kid, I struggled with understanding social cues and making friends. And because I didn’t act like the other kids around me, I got bullied. The bullies would ask me invasive questions, taunt me, and call me names under their breath. One asshat in particular would even push or trip me when the teachers had their eyes elsewhere.

And the adults in my life did nothing to stop it: My parents told me to just ignore them, my grandma advised me to have a thicker skin, and a teacher taught me this saying: “Sicks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” The only bully who got into trouble for picking on me was the one who stabbed my right bicep with a sharpened pencil while I sat at my desk working on my homework. He stabbed me with such force that the tip of the pencil went through my shirt sleeve and pierced my skin. I just remember an explosion of lights and blood. To this day, I still have an indent in my upper arm where he stabbed me.

Shortly after my sixteenth birthday, I lost my grandma to multiple myeloma. This loss made it especially difficult for me to deal with the three bullies who had decided to target me in high school. When I told a school councilor about my situation, she told me that I must have unintentionally did something to hurt their feelings. She then advised me to approach these bullies and ask them what I did to upset them. After I listened to their complaint, I should apologize to them for my misbehavior and promise never to do it again. Seriously?

The bullying from these three became so intense that I ended up switching schools. In the new school, I kept my head low and made like Casper.

I would say that the bullying I experienced as a kid had an impact on my mental health. It could even partially explain the rejection sensitive dysphoria I experience so severely and intensely. Also, I find it difficult to share my opinions and let new people into my life. I’m working on moving past the trauma of getting bullied, and I feel sharing my experience is a good first step.

Thank you for taking the time to reading this. I hope you have a good day filled with acceptance and understanding.

#personal essay #adhd #neurodivergent #autism #autism spectrum disorder #audhd #trauma #bullying #attention deficit hyperactivity disorder

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bookishphysicsgirl · 1 year

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So, story time, apparently, because my insurance hasn't come through yet which means I am yet to schedule therapy and as such am about to severely overshare and expose myself publicly on the internet for the sake of feeling a little less lonely I guess. Go grab a seat and some popcorn 'cause this one is gonna be a long one - very very long.

This is about my sexuality (aroace) and how I came to terms with it and where I am now.

TW: mentions of bullying (I guess,I don't really see it as bullying but I was told it was bullying so there), aphobia, masturbation (you have no idea how long it took me to just straight up write that word), periods, and general aro ace queer confusion.

But why not just talk to some ace people near you, if you are in such need of understanding you'd turn to strangers on the internet ? Well, there aren't that many ace or aro people around me and the few that I know are not that great to talk to, not because of their sexuality, mind you, but because they make very uncomfortable jokes and are all cis boys which normally wouldn't be a problem except that I grew up around no men and am kind of akward - especially considering I am one of the very few girls in our major, so internet strangers and possible exposure it is.

Therefore, our story begins when I was about nine and going to Adventist school - because it was cheap and the closest to my house, not because I myself was Adventist - when children started talking about dating and kissing, mostly for jokes but still sometimes seriously. When one of the girls had her period before anyone else and got caught with socks on her bra it was a pure scandal.

I couldn't understand it. I mean I understood why people would want to date and be with significant others more than the typical child that age, since I read a lot and I read anything I could get my hands on, and not always necessarily age appropriate books since adults tend to believe all books are inheritenly good for their children without checking the content.

What I couldn't understand is why would anyone be so worried about things like that so early. In all the stories I saw and the books I read the characters were at least teenagers before they started being interested. That coupled with adults around me saying repeatedly that children were being oversexualized and that it'd be better if they just focus on their studies led me to make a bet with my friends that I would never date or kiss anyone until I was sixteen. Best decision I ever made.

So as the years passed my friends and everyone else arround me started freaking out more and more about crushes and who had kissed who and when they asked me all I had to do was remind them of that bet and they'd leave it alone. Sometimes a few kids would ask me things like whether I wanted to be a nun or why was I actually trying to keep that bet, but mostly I could just completely forget about it.

However as I started getting older - at about 14 - my relatives started noticing and though at first when I told them about my no-dating-until-16 plans they thought I was very smart and concentrating on the right things soon enough I'd catch my aunt and my mom having conversations about how "something must be wrong with that kid" and "you should take her to see a doctor". My aunt suggested I might need hormone therapy.

My friends kept telling me about people who they thought had crushes on me - which usually made me panic because I didn't know how to reject anyone if they were right, kids at my school started asking me increasingly invasive and mean questions ( " have you really never kissed anyone?", "are you just in love with yourself?", "were you abused?", "are you afraid of sex?", "do you even know what a penis looks like?") and my mom kept trying to make me interested in someone.

She would try to make me look at scenes that made me uncomfortable in movies and TV, tell me stories about her sex life, show me pictures of famous people and point at random people on the street and say "aren't they cute?", anytime anyone showed even the slightest bit of interest she would practically throw me in their direction. She asked me if I wanted therapy, if I thought I needed hormonal treatments, if I was a lesbian - totally cute of her but a little off the mark - at one point she even took the whole sapiosexual thing that was going around facebook and convinced me that the reason I hadn't been interested in anyone was because I hadn't met anyone who was intellectually stimulating enough.

At about 15 she asked me if maybe I could be asexual. I think she meant it as a joke but I looked it up anyway and lo and behold there was the answer all along. I pretty much came out immediately to my family and my closest friends and was met with the usual "you'll find someone some day", "it's just a phase", "maybe you should just try it, just to check" but eventually that started to die out and they started to accept it.

I guess part of it was that they thought things would change by the time I got to college and to be honest I was still pretty unsure, but when people asked me inconvenient questions about why I never went out with anyone now I had an actual answer which, of course, led to even more invasive questions from my classmates but I tended to be pretty good at taking it in stride.

I think it was meant to be a joke of sorts, go ask uncomfortable questions to the innocent nerd and see how she squirms so we can laugh about it later, kind of how some boys will make fake crushes and pretend to ask girls they think are ugly out or keep ironically complimenting them to make fun of them, because if they believe it it's funny she was gullible and if she doesn't she can't do much because they can just say they were trying to be nice.

But I pretty much had a policy to always smile and be nice to people and answer them honestly even when you knew they were being purposefully hurtful unless you were in a dangerous situation, because a lot of the joke got lost then, specially when it was obvious I knew what their intentions were and tried to dialog anyway. And though the questions never stopped while I was in High School the jokes did. And I kind of even became sort of friends with some of those boys? They asked me to tutor them, we were nice to each other, we talked about tv shows so I suppose things got better.

At 16, even already wearing the label ace, I was finally without the bet excuse for not dating and without it to hide behind I was forced to really confront my feelings. My friends mostly seemed pretty ok with my identity and didn't pressure me much but they did keep trying to get me to "be mature" and say or do things that made me uncomfortable - but then again these things weren't always related to sex, sometimes they were just trying to get me to swear - or making dirty jokes that I didn't want to hear. At that point my mom had moved on to trying to convince me to at least try to touch myself and telling me how good sex felt and that I'd really be missing out.

But even though I now didn't have my self-imposed silly rule and a very close friend who I really liked was actually interested I still felt no need to be intimate with anybody. There was not a lick of desire anywhere in my body, but I was still pretty conflicted. I knew I had never had a crush or felt lust for anybody but I had always loved romance books and movies and I squealed when two characters got together and I loved cheering for my friends in their love lifes and going to weddings - I could go to a wedding every weekend honestly - and I had always generally been a hopless romantic "in love with love" type of person.

At 17 we had to make a seminar about minorities and since my friend group had the only queer people in the entirety of the school so naturally we were assigned the LGBTQIA+ community. That was the first time I ever read about the distinction of romantic and sexual and platonic attractions and I swear it was like suddenly the entire world clicked in my brain and everything made sense. My friend's ears were probably bleeding by the time I finally stopped talking about it but I could be at least a little more grounded in my asexuality. At least I knew I could maybe still have those things I liked so much in fiction, I could still maybe one day not be alone and have someone to raise a family with, someone to decorate for Christmas with, who would help me in the bad days and who I could share good days with. Who could grow old with me so I didn't have to retire alone and helpless.

After that I was pretty confident, I was in no hurry to find romantic love and just kept thinking that if was going to happen it would just happen. But it did get me thinking about my limits. What would I be willing to do if I ever did get a romantic partner? Would I be willing to do it with anyone who wasn't a romantic partner?

I think it is worth it to note that I was reading smut since I was 13yo. This wasn't exactly because I went out seeking for it, in fact the first few times I came across it I was a bit disturbed, I'm not going to lie, but I was desperate to read new things, kindle had free things to read and sometimes those things had undisclosed smut. At first I skipped it, then I realized I was missing plot and started skimming it and eventually I was just reading it just like you'd read anything else. So despite my friends repeatedly attempting to make me more mature and teaching me the lingo I am 60% sure I was far more educated at that point (when no one had actually done anything more than kissing) than they could have possibly been.

So I did know about things and how the plumbing worked, I just didn't know if I'd ever be willing to test mine. One beautiful day, when no one was home and I was 18 and reading I wondered "maybe I could just try doing it myself, just to see if I even feel anything." And I thought I'd done it wrong, because I didn't scream or pant or do any of the things that the media usually describe, so I tried again that night,and the next day.

Soon I found that not only did it help me relax enough to sleep, something that had evaded me for years on end, I had a pretty high libido because I suddenly could recognize what before I couldn't identify as arousal, and it happened a lot, at random times, but one thing I noticed was that it never had to do with anyone. It mostly happened whenever I started worrying or thinking about sex and sexuality itself but never because of an actual person. I dealt with it pretty often, never thinking about scenarios with myself or things like that, just shadows, or colors, or movements or reading something.

But the fact that I was doing it and that I was doing it so often suddenly put my sexuality into doubt, could I really be ace with what I did alone at night? The fact that I was doubting it so much and that I had over the years built so much of my self within the fact that I am ace made it so I was too scared to even tell anyone about my libido just in case telling them would make them doubt me again, make them invalidate me or tell me I would eventually just magically wake up allo. To this day I have only ever told one person I know personally, and that was on a really bad day.

But I did do something similar to this I'm doing now and posted to AVEN and after very big welcome cakes and assurances that everything I was going through was completely normal and that it didn't make me any less ace, which felt like a balm on an open wound, I calmed down a little.

So, this one day there was a kareoke pizza party at my uni and this guy sings Moana and I sing Moana and we start talking about the merits of the translation and he ends up asking me if I wanna see a movie that night after the party (it was an in-campus party so it didn't end too late) and I as the clueless dork that I am started going around asking if anybody else wanted to come with.

Nobody did which I thought was strange but ok and so we went to the 24h room of the library to watch it and for about 2/3 of the movie I was completely immersed, not even noticing what was happening around me. However, suddenly I got the strange notion that maybe he was getting a bit too close. Like he was trying to do something. Weird.

But I thought that before and it was nothing, and I thought it was nothing when it was something so clearly I am not the best at reading signs from people. And like he was pretty cool, wonderful person really, so he offered to take me to my door and I said yes because I am terrified of walking alone at night and in the middle of the way he did a real movie move and kind of went bumping his hand with mine until he could kind of naturally hold it? That's when my brain went "oh crap."

I had until we got to the door to make a decision. I did like him. But the more I thought about the idea of actually kissing someone the more icky I felt but maybe I should just try it and see what happens? Like everyone keeps telling me to do?

So we get in front of my building and he turns towards me and I look up and I can hear my heart pounding and I just go "sorry, I'm ace." And run as fast as I can towards the door. Yup. Left him cold and did a dash and hide. Not my greatest moment.

Anyway I felt very embarrassed and kind of sorry so I sent an apology text and explained and he said that actually he was totally cool with it and if I wanted to he would love to date without needing the whole physical part. And that seemed like a good idea.

I hated it. Every single minute. Again it wasn't him. I like him, we are friends as much as we can be friends without me akwardly wandering whether I'm leading him on all the time. But the situation, it was just the worse. I just couldn't think of ever doing it again. With anyone.

So, yeah, probably Aromantic too. Which was a surprise.

But the funny thing is that if she wanted to I would marry my best friend in an instant. Not to go on dates, or kiss or for physical intimacy but just so we could officially be there for each other. So I guess my platonic attraction is pretty strong. And there are people I see that I just really like the look of, so aesthetic attraction is also present. And I usually know just by looking at someone that I really want to be friends with them.

But sometimes I still stop and go "is what I'm feeling for this person actually romantic? How do I know?". But I guess that is what being aro or ace or really just queer in general in a world that wasn't really made for you is, constantly second guessing yourself. We just need to learn that that's ok and it doesn't make us any less who we are.

Anyway, hope this helped anyone struggling in their own journey or let people who've already been through this know that they are not alone. Because you are not. We are in this together.

Ok, love you all, bye!

#ace #aro #aroace #aromantic #asexual #aromantic asexual #story time #tw bullying #tw masterbation #tw periods #tw aphobia #aphobia #coming out #coming out story

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favroitecrime · 5 months

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Do you believe that the Israeli children murdered are culpable for the crimes of their government?

I think we both agree that Palestinian children and Palestinian civilians are not valid military targets, despite what Netanyahu and the Israeli government may claim, but do you believe the same applies to children who are being raised in Israel?

gonna need you to point to where i said otherwise bestie

but to entertain the question(s) in full:

I’ve overstated how much I believe children should never be victims & sexual violence is also never excused. I’d never stand & advocate for the lives of Palestinian (& Syrian & Congolese & Sudanese & Armenian & Puerto Rican & Polynesian &&&&) children whilst simultaneously wishing unwell on another group of children.

But there’s a lot of things I hate about this framing & it’s that first and foremost, the children are not the only ones that matter here. What good is saving the children if they’re stripped of the elders of their family? What good is sparing the life of a disabled Palestinian girl in Gaza being wheeled from the North to the South by her father if you’re going to arrest her father and leave her stranded to be saved by other passer-bys? What good is saving the children if they’re wishing they died along their parents?

Second, not only are the civilians not valid military targets, they’re not targets at all. None of them deserve to suffer. None of them deserve to bury their dead in mass graves. None of them deserve to be killed whilst seeking shelter in schools, hospitals, mosques, churches, etc. None of them deserve to starve for days on end & no water in sight. None of them deserve to watch their mass graves dug up and over 100+ of their loved ones’ bodies being taken away by israeli forces to god knows where (likely the skin bank, where they harvest Palestinian organs for their own). They deserve none of it. Hamas could be in every damn room in every damn building and it still could never justify anything, let alone being military targets.

Third, it should shame you by now to STILL shift the narrative to israel & israelis whilst discussing Gaza or Palestine. Enough already. It’s been 41 days. We’ve condemned enough. The conversation cannot be redirected to straw-man arguments & questions meant to what? Pull out a scandalous answer? Was I expected to say yes I see the kids as military targets? What’s your next step knowing my answer is no?

Finally, the government lied. The israeli government has lied repeatedly. They’ve been putting out numbers of their victims ranging from 1200-1500 and just announced today that they’ve overstated how many of them died because it turns out 200 of those bodies were bodies of Palestinians. Which begs the question, if they were so torched and barely recognizable, who did the torching? Why did they silence the interview of one of the survivors as she says that the IOF were largely responsible for the death of multitudes? Why is it they’re interviewing soldiers who were on duty that day who’ve said their orders were to target anything that moved? An israeli plan was mass killing everyone at the music festival because the orders were to go for anything that moved.

Mere days after the initial invasion/“attack”, one of the women who was held in her home with her children went on an interview and said they didn’t harm them at all. They stayed for two hours, one even politely asking for a banana, before quietly shutting the door behind them. Her youngest was so undisturbed they kept tapping away on their tablet. Hamas may not be complete angels, but they’re not barbarians. They’re not savages. Children would never be their main targets, nor targets at all. Any dead children were either caught in a crossfire or much more likely killed by the IOF.

I reject the narrative that I, or anyone else in defense of Palestine, agree with the death of children (no matter who they are). I reject the idea that I, or anyone else in defense of Palestine, would be okay with acts of sexual violence being committed to anyone. And I refuse to cover up the atrocities happening in Palestine with any sympathies you expect me to extend to israel.

Children should never be victims. Including Palestinian children. Free Palestine. 🇵🇸

#tag: asks #free palestine #idk why the first thing you think of when it comes to this is israel but like genuinely what kind of answer were you expecting me to give?

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sharonrb · 1 year

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Death is only the Beginning pt 13

Chapter Forty-Five

“Can anyone tell me; where the Queen and the Princess has run off to?” M'Baku had summoned the Doras and Midnight Angels’ generals to the throne room.

“I have no idea my King,” Ayo was the first to address him.

“Neither have I,” Aneka answered.

“I need to know they are alright; and considering the invasion, we are more on the UN’s radar than ever,” he sat down on the throne, taking a deep breath in and releasing it. He had a concern expression that adorned his face.

“I can try to call Shuri, if you would like me to do so?” Aneka told him. He raised his head to stare at her.

“You can, like yesterday,” his tone was slightly brash, but Aneka ignored, it seeing he was worried about them.

“My King,” Ayo came near to him. “If I may speak.”

“Yes, general,” he replied.

“You do know they are both capable of defending themselves, and quite savvy in detecting danger,” she reminded him, Shuri is the Black Panther, and protector of Wakanda. The Queen Ramonda, being a mutant; has the ability to commune with her surroundings.

“I am quite aware of this general,” he expressed. “I just do not trust the UN. They acted like they were not aware of the invasion.”

“Maybe not all of the UN would have known what was happening,” Ayo said. “But someone knew something.” M'Baku nodded in agreement.

Shuri left Wakanda to take a break; her heart was heavy. Ramonda her mother, had gone off the grid to parts unknown. She left a note, explaining she needed to find herself.

“Find herself?” That was the question resonating in Shuri’s mind. “Who does she think she will discover?” Once again, she had lost her and was alone. She thought, maybe the space and time, will heal the wound. Having her mother alive made it even harder. The mother she had known all her life was gone.

This new version just reminded her of the pain she felt; seeing her laying there. And Okoye performing aid to revive her without any results. Then when she discovered her mother hadn’t die, but was in a dormant state. And the ones she had come to trust kept it from her for months. Then seeing her alive again, she was so happy, only to have that dash. She had no memory, of her past or present; not any of her, as her daughter. Worst of all, she fell in love and married the very person who literally took her life.

Then with a potion she gave her mother, Ramonda’s memory was restored, and she no longer resembled the woman; she once had been. She became a variant; someone who looked, walked and talked like her, but not her. Shuri knew she had to finally let go, but with her mother was relentless for them to reconnect.

But she constantly rejected it, and maybe that is what caused her mother to give up. Right at the time she was willing, and ready to reconcile; her mother left, and sought out to find herself. What will that leave her? Who will she find in this journey of discovery? Freedom, to be whoever she chooses to be? Will she find acceptance or happiness? Even if it costs her.

Shuri unpacked her backpack she had put together on short noticed. This was a spur of the moment decision, with no plans. She left her room and went to take a look around the big city. The culture here was different from Wakanda. But the same as the city, T’Challa took her to; to show her the new buildings he acquired, for the schools he planned on building.

“Shuri,” an unrecognizable voice came from behind her. She turned to see a young man running towards her, waving with a big grin on his face. “Shuri!”

“Do I know you?” She asked, causing him to stop his in his tracks. He stood staring at her, and then lowered his head in despair.

“It infected Wakanda too,” he said.

“What infected Wakanda too?” She repeated.

“The spell of Dr. Strange,” he said, then turned to walk away.

“Wait!” She touched his arm. “What spell did Dr. Strange cast, and why?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He said looking at her.

“Try me,” she told him. “Have you had lunch yet?” A smile crept across his face.

“Not yet,” he said.

“Good, then you can join me,” she suggested. “We can swap stories.”

“Okay, I like that,” the big smile he had when he came, resurfaced.

“You know my name,” she said. “But I don’t remember yours.” Peter liked the way she phrases that sentence. To say ‘I don’t know your name’, oppose to ‘I don’t remember’, makes a difference.

“My name is Peter Parker,” he revealed. Shuri smiled softly; it didn’t ring a bell. But then, Dr. Strange would be that thorough.

“Hello Peter Parker,” she extended her hand; he accepted it happily. At least, one person salvaged in his life; even if they had to be reintroduced. They went off to see what lunch will be like, and the beginning of a much-needed (new) friendship.

Shuri and Peter sat in the park by the lakeside; telling each the crazy story of their life after the blip. It was good to hear someone else with similarity. Peter lost his aunt; and Shuri lost her mother, even if she had been revised.

“But your mother is still alive,” Peter reminds Shuri. “Unlike me; I lost everything. My aunt, my friends; no one remembers me. Not even you; we’re just trying to start anew.”

“Is she though Peter?” Shuri responded. “My mother died that day, after while Wakanda was attacked. She is only a shadow of the woman I knew. A child of two worlds, a mutant and Wakanda. But can she ever be comfortable or feel accepted?” Peter thought in silence; then stared out over the water. It was true; their circumstances were identical; they both had lost someone or everyone.

“But again, I say,” he begins. “She may not be the person you recognize from birth, but she is what she has become; and still your mother. Just another version as you pointed out. And she’s not going to abandon you, because that essence of her remains. As you said, she did try to get you and her to go away to reconnect, right? You will always be her daughter, and that’s not ever going to change. So, please, be patient; she’s also had it traumatic.” Peter reminded her, having a semblance of her mother, was better than none.

“You’re right Peter,” she digested what he told her. “You lost your aunt, and probably wishing you had the chance given to me.”

“Yes, Shuri. I would,” he confirmed.

“I am sorry on so many fronts,” she said, then looked at the water. Her mother was out there somewhere and alone, trying to figure out who she is. And dealing with her rejecting her get away together. Then there was Namor, who declares they are no longer with each other. The love she has for him will not wither so easily. Whenever that urge hits her, it will be him, she goes to. She hopes wherever life takes her mother, she will be happy. Then she had an idea. “Peter, come back to Wakanda with me, and stay awhile? The getting away, helped me. Maybe it could help you?”

“Really?” He spoke. He had never been to Wakanda, but the Avengers had told stories of it.

“Yes, really,” she replied. She was beginning to see how they became friends.

“Alright,” Peter exclaimed. “When can I come?”

“What’s keeping you from going now?” She asked.

“School,” he said. He had forgot he had just started.

“Don’t worry, I got connections.” She told him. “But first, can you take me on a tour of the city, and to the different landmarks?”

“Sure, but it will take a couple or so days,” he informed her.

“No problem, I wanted to get away for a few days anyways. Now I can enjoy it more with a friend.” Peter liked that, friend reference. He is going to enjoy, being around someone from his past. But now in his present, and hopefully his future.

Chapter Forty-Six

Okoye got Attuma to bed, and stood watching him resting. She left him to walk about, investigating their new home. She found a rock to sit on, enjoying the tranquility this place emitted. Only thing that could be heard was the water nearby.

Her mind went to the beautiful wedding, but also to a friend, who was so devious enough to drug her. Just so she could be kidnapped by her ex husband, and losing her own life in the process. How could lust for someone; get you to lose your moral compass? Okoye shook her head.

Attuma could be dead right this moment. W'Kabi meant to kill him, and take away another thing from her. He took the love she once had for him. The life they had planned, the family they were going to create. That was everything, now his desire was to have her heart broken, and miserable with him. Her body shuddered at the thought. How could one person; singly destroy a love, as great as theirs were?

But he didn’t succeed. Her husband is right in there, right now; resting and recovering from the poison. And soon, they will make their wedding plans in Talokan. She was so excited to just be able to call him her husband, since her wedding in Wakanda.

“General,” Attuma called to her. She laughed; it was good to see he was in good spirits. “I need your assistance.” She jumped from where she sat, and made her way to where he lay.

“Yes, my love,” she walked to him. “What can I do for you?”

“Come lay with me,” he says. She was obliging and did so. She laid her head on his chest, he placed an arm around her and pulled her close. She rested her had on his midriff, and then realized something.

“Attuma,” she looked into his face, with this dimpled grin plastered on it. She slightly raised the cover, to confirm what she felt. “Where are your clothing?”

“I do not sleep with them, to confining,” he told her. A little perk of his revealed, and noted.

“So do you want to…?” She started to ask.

“Mate?” He finished the sentence. “No, you being next to me is enough for now. But if it’s too much for you, there is another room you can occupy; until we complete our wedding here in Talokan. She felt a little way with the ‘other room’ she could occupy.

“That will be fine, I can go prepare it for me,” she went to leave, then felt his hand; gently grasp her upper arm. She turns to look at him with tears in her eyes. He saw them, and an ache touched his heart. He pulled her over into his lap, holding her in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding back the tears.

“Please my Wakandan warrior,” he whispered in her ear. “Never leave my side, and I promise to do the same.” She pulled back gazing into his eyes, and nodded; overwhelmed with the love she saw in them. He captured her mouth with his own, kissing her until she had to breathe again.

“Wow, where did that come from?” She smiled.

“Just a preview of what’s to come,” he informed her.

“Oh,” she said, as he reclaimed her lips, intensifying the kiss.

Peter took Shuri around the city showing her the special places it was known for. Her getting to know him, went off as it did the first time. He knew it would, because he knew her. They had breakfast, lunch, and dined together. They talked about everything, but what they concealed. She was the Black Panther and he was Spiderman. She wasn’t ready for that conversation, since she didn’t know he was a super hero. And he didn’t want to put too much on her, since they were getting reacquainted.

“Get some things together and meet tomorrow.” She wrote down where to come. Then she went to meet with his school administrator, and got him some time off; with the agreement he would keep up with his assignments online.

Peter woke up excited to go to Wakanda to actually see everything the Avengers had told him about this magnificent nation. But most if all, he didn’t feel that loneliness that had been plaguing him sent everyone he knew memories of him were wiped away.

And then there was his aunt Mae. He will never be able to hug her, or kiss her, as well as hold a conversation but everything or nothing at all. Tears welled in his eyes, he sat on his bed looking at the place he had lived these pass months. Being in Wakanda and Shuri, will take the edge off the pain. He grabbed his things and gave the room a backwards look, closed the door and went to join his friend, Shuri.

Peter came to the address Shuri had given him, and saw it was an abandon, empty private airport. He went into the old ruin hanger, with a couple of equally banged up planes. He searched for Shuri, and wondered if he was the first to arrive. Then as he looked around at the open field; right before him a strange jet appeared, and the steps lowered. Shuri came down them, smiling at him.

“Come on board, Peter” she laughed. Peter ran to her, and followed her into it.

“This is cool,” he said, admiring the interior and technology. “I have never been in anything that can cloak before.” He was ecstatic. Being in Wakanda is going to be a great adventure, he felt. They flew away, heading towards Wakanda, her home.

Ramonda had gone to a small island resort, she either heard or read about. She wanted to try every relaxing services they were offering. She met a nice lady, who was coming off a bad divorce; and needed a friend. She was from the Idaho in the US, they hitting off conversing while getting massages. From then they were inseparable, accompanying each other on their beauty treatments.

When she was Queen Mother and married to T'Chaka, he never had her join him on his visits, stating they were too dangerous. Yet he took their son, T’Challa; at an early age. Nor when she ruled as Queen during the blip and after T'Challa's death. Her only trips, were to the UN for political reasons. This was different, it was a soul-searching journey. This trip will have nothing but some fun, and pampering added.

After a couple of days, she laid in her bed; wondering how Shuri doing, but resisted calling her. She couldn’t deal with her rejection any further. She didn’t want to contact Namor to go and check in on her. They weren’t together any longer, by her choice. So, calling on him for anything was off the table.

No, it’s best to stick to the plan and not get in touch with any of them. No until she finds out what it is she wants and needs. She hopes, once she gets home things will be better. Even maybe, Shuri will be more receptive to them going away, just the two of them. Bonding with her is her up most desire, and wish she felt the same.

And her relationship with Namor, needs some clarity. She still can’t get pass him causing her death, and all that has occurred afterwards. Do she love him? Or because he is her husband, by no choice of hers. She was not in her right mind, and he took advantage of it. That is what is causing the riff between them. It’s him doing what he thinks is best, but never taking into consideration. Will it be the best choice for the other person?

It doesn’t sit well with her, that the only time she wants or need him. Is for the sex. He is a fantastic lover, and he is her husband; but it feels like she’s using him. She has to bring some clarity to their relationship. Because she knows, as well as him; if she called him now. He would be there, to give her what she needs.

This can’t continue this way any longer. A definite decision between them has to be made. And the main question she has to know. Does she truly love him, or is it the satisfying sex they have. She thought on that and already knew the answer.

“You hoo,” her friend knocking at her door. Ramonda rushed to let her in.

“Well, good morning,” Ramonda greeted her.

“And a good afternoon,” she informed Ramonda.

“Oh, yes. We were doing the hot spa this morning,” she said. “I’m so sorry, I got caught up in thoughts of home.”

“I thought we agreed not to think about our home lives,” she reminded Ramonda.

“You’re right,” Ramonda agreed.

“So, are we still going? We can make one in thirty minutes,” she informed her

“Let me get my things,” Ramonda told her.

“And I have a day planned that will take your mind off the family drama for the rest of your stay,” she said. Ramonda looked at her and smiled.

“Thank you, Valentina,” Ramonda expressed, as they hugged.

“Of course,” Valentina said. “What are friends for?”

Links:

Death is only the Beginning pt one

Death is only the Beginning pt two

Death is only the Beginning pt three

Death is only the Beginning pt four

Death is only the Beginning pt five

Death is only the Beginning pt six

Death is only the Beginning pt seven

Death is only the Beginning pt Eight

Death is only the Beginning pt Nine

Death is only the Beginning pt ten

Death is only the Beginning pt eleven

Death is only the Beginning pt twelve

Tag list

@abbyeliza28

@paracosmfantasy

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piquira · 2 years

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Have you seen the video at the airport. He was practically running, leaving the kids carelessly behind and them almost hit a paparazzi with a door grabbed his phone, said a couple bad words to the guy and threw the guy’s phone to the floor and almost broke it. All of that with the kids present. Also according to Nidia, Don William seems to be doing better!!!

Yes I did. On one hand, I will say, Papz should be warned that they're following and stalking people at their own risk. They should not expect people they are following to always be kind and welcoming when they are invading their personal space. That being said, Gerard has a shitty way of dealing with the media. I mean, you get that he's annoyed and that he doesn't like them, and the paparazzi following them was being invasive by following them at the airport. However, he also wasn't asking inappropriate questions and they are in a public setting. Gerard's reaction just exposes how immature and arrogant he is. He could of just kept going, grabbed his kids hands without answering and not given them the report that they're looking for. Now, instead of just reporting that they saw him in the airport with the kids, they're reporting that he was rude and aggressive in front of his kids. And we've seen him react like this before in completely different circumstances, so he can't even argue that it's due to his difficult personal situation. Shakira has been harassed at her home, at her kids school, and outside the hospital where her dad is because of HIS cheating, and yet we've never seen her react like this. She always tries to be gracious and tolerant. (TBH I always believed Shakira was low key embarrassed whenever he pulled these type of stunts ex: driving off at unsafe speeds, rejecting pictures, and being rude to paparazzis. ) It's even evident in how Shakira's mom answered the paparazzi over her husband's health. Her family is going through a traumatic event, yet they're always so respectful and kind to the people that report about their daughter. And i'm so glad he's doing better. Hopefully in a few days we get word he's out of the hospital ❤️

#I'm not saying Papz and the media in general always deserve to be treated respectfully #but it's very telling how somebody who's in the public eye chooses to treat those people behind the scenes #like i'm sure Shakira isn't very fond of the people who stalk her and ask her invasive questions #but she's mature and conscious enough to understand their role in the industry she's part of and that they're just doing their job #so she tries to be as tolerant and respectful as possible #Gerard is in a different field & I've always argued that he has a different relationship with the media like he owes the media less #in his career than somebody like Shak #however he also knows the role that they play in his field and he's also used the media to his advantage #so his aggressive and dickish antics are way out of line #like aren't you letting your entourage leak personal shit about you??!?!#why are you mad that they're interested???#such a prick

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 years

Text

The pandemic showed remote proctoring to be worse than useless

Before covid, “remote proctoring” tools were a niche product, invasive tools that spied on students who needed to take high-stakes tests but couldn’t get to campus or a satellite test-taking room. But the lockdown meant that all students found themselves in this position.

This could have prompted educators to reconsider the use of high-stakes tests. After all, high-stakes testing has well-understood limitations in pedagogy, and organizes education around a highly artificial ritual completely unlike the rest of scholarly and industrial life.

It’s not like anyone does a job where you are prohibited from consulting reference texts or collaborating with your colleagues (if you have an colleague who does this, you should probably ask to be transferred to another team).

While in the academy, neither scholars nor researchers work without collaboration or access to references. It’s not clear what, exactly, a high-stakes test measures, apart from your ability to engage in the useless, non-transferrable skill of sitting a high-stakes test.

But rather than rethinking assessment, educational institutions doubled down on remote proctoring, throwing stupendous sums at companies that made outrageous promises about their ability to automatically detect cheating with “AI.”

While this threw every student into a meat-grinder of opaque algorithmic cruelty, not every student suffered equally. In “Rejecting Test Surveillance in Higher Education,” Georgetown Law’s Lindsey Barrett describes the unequal and disproportionate harms.

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3871423

While Barrett’s paper is long and thoughtful, the introduction tells five stories, smartly making the case that if you are already marginalized, remote proctoring hurts you more than your fellows, magnifying your existing disadvantages.

Jazi: “a first-generation student” and caretaker (thanks to covid), who “was flagged for ‘suspicious noise’” (small children) “by the software recording her take an exam in her family’s home,” who “emptied her bank account to pay for on-campus housing.”

Ashley, who “dissolved into tears” when “a remote proctor with access to her computer kept moving her cursor…distracting her and exacerbating her anxiety about her performance.”

Audrey, “a transgender student at the Georgia Institute of Technology” who was “humiliated” when a remote proctor demanded their professor to confirm Audrey’s identity thanks to a photo ID that didn’t match their gender presentation.

Tracy, a OSU grad with ADHD who could only use “‘half her brain” on her remotely proctored exam, using the other half to police “the minor fidgeting that is a side effect of her condition, as she was afraid the software would characterize her movements as suspect.”

Ahmed, “an Arab-American law school graduate, estimated that he tried 75 times to get the remote proctoring software he would be required to use on the bar exam to recognize his face. It never did.”

If you are poor, if you have a disability, if you struggle with your mental health, if you are racialized, if you are gender nonconforming, then remote proctoring tools punished you for who you were, far more than it did your peers.

Remote proctoring companies were incredibly successful covid profiteers, growing by leaps and bounds during the pandemic. As they grew, so did the harms they imposed on the public.

The companies responded to bad news about their products by deploying their covid riches to threaten their critics. Proctorio went after educators like Ian Linkletter with a baseless — but ruinously expensive — copyright claim to silence his criticism.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/10/17/proctorio-v-linkletter/#proctorio

But Proctorio didn’t limit its harassment to adults who could take care of themselves — the CEO personally doxed a student who criticized his product on Reddit.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/01/bossware/#moral-exemplar

Proctorio isn’t an outlier. The entire sector runs on bad faith, bullying and legal harassment. EFF’s massive roundup of the lies and frauds of the remote proctoring sector is a good place to refresh your memory.

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/06/long-overdue-reckoning-online-proctoring-companies-may-finally-be-here

Be sure to read to the end, where Jason Kelley and Haley Amster document how, after apologizing and promising changes, the leading remote proctoring companies are still wreaking havoc.

After all, these are companies that claim they can automatically rank whether students are “high integrity” or “low integrity” and produce “suspicion rankings” based on data analysis. This isn’t computer science, it’s digital phrenology.

Barrett ends well: “Recommendations For Use of Remote Proctoring Software: Don’t.” Instead, she sets out a of alternatives to high-stakes testing, including “long papers graded at multiple stages,” “short response papers” and “presentations with a peer critique component.”

If you must use timed, remote exams, change parameters to make gaming harder: allow open books, randomize question orders, and encourage collaboration.

If you need to hire more TAs to help grade these more pedagogically useful assessments, look to the savings from ditching remote proctoring tools, like the $500k/year that some schools are paying Proctorio.

Above all, Barrett says, don’t normalize this. This was a mistake, something that compounded the pain of the lockdown. This is the moment to reassess our approach: to reverse the alarming trend of increasing commercial surveillance of our students.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/06/boogeration/#i-spy

#pluralistic

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evakuality · 3 years

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Matteo - Episode one

Okay bear with me. I know I’ve talked about this season a LOT over the last couple of years but I’m not going to do a rewatch (or first watch in some cases) of the Druck seasons and not include this one. And knowing me, I will be very verbose about this one because I do just love it so much. Even though I already talked about it at length.

So, to mix things up, I decided to watch this one in real time mode. Which has been both lovely (revisiting what it was like to follow along with everything back then) and really frustrating (revisiting what it was like to wait for clips back then). But it’s been a good exercise, particularly with this episode because I didn’t get truly involved in the show til a couple of weeks later so there’s a lot I missed in terms of social media etc the first time around. So let’s start there.

Social media: It was nice to get the stuff leading in to this season which I hadn’t seen before. The decisions around moving into the new place and getting Matteo involved etc were all super cute. I liked the stuff with Sam after her party and how they kept that story - at the time it must really have felt like an immersive thing moving from Mia’s story to Matteo’s. The stuff around the flatwarming party is interesting too. Matteo and Sara’s posts make it seem like they’re at two different parties. Matteo’s has barely and hint of Sara at all whereas hers makes it seem like they were joined at the hip all evening and super happy together. And then even through the week her things were much more focused on Matteo (and on Leonie’s crush on David) whereas again, with his Sara only comes up if he’s asked about her. I know it’s very clear in the clips as well, but honestly, the texts and instagram posts etc really make it clear how much she had built this up in her head vs how indifferent he is to it. One really interesting one is where she asks Leonie not to spread it around that she and Matteo are together. It suggests that she already knows this isn’t what she wants it to be, but either through desperation or naivety or by lying to herself, Sara doesn’t allow herself to see it. It’s very sad for her and I do feel for her a lot more than I ever did for Emma.

Clip one: I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again now. I really really love this clip. It’s a perfect introduction both to Matteo’s PoV and to all the themes of the season. Matteo is surrounded by people through the whole thing, and on the surface and from the outside it probably looks like he’s slotted in and having a great time - he talks, he dances, he appears to be having a good time and his social media is curated to make it appear that way too. But it’s clear since we’re in his PoV that he’s actually isolated and on the outskirts of what’s going on. That’s done both in the music and sound (the way he fades in on the discordant, out of place note will always always get me as well as the way that the chatter and ‘reality’ of the party only comes into focus when Sara makes him kiss her) and in the conversations that are held. The way the boys really do just focus on sex sets us up for Matteo’s explosion later where he accuses them of only talking about sex - which is sadly fairly true in these earlier episodes. And Matteo tries to join in but all he manage is ‘that looks exhausting’ and ‘you bet’ when asked about him and Sara. The fact that his contribution is about how exhausting sex (and by extension relationships) must be is really telling of his mind set. Everything is too exhausting for him and he’s not ready to put in much effort at all. The isolation goes deep with this boy and it’s all already so well shown in this first clip. I like that we got hints of that through Mia’s season as well (and the seeds were planted in Hanna’s - what with his tagging along to the cabin and his stuff with his family etc etc), and so while this is a much more closed off and sad Matteo than we’ve seen before it’s not come out of the blue. The fact that he’s still curating his social media to look like he’s happy and connected also reminds us that what we saw before isn’t necessarily what the truth was.

Clip two: I like how Matteo, unlike Isak, is clearly already very well aware of his feelings and his attraction to boys. His pining over Jonas is both obvious and very sad. He’s well aware that he can’t let anyone know, and the reminder with the number on Jonas’s arm is gut wrenching for him and for us to watch. And then scattered through the whole episode is a lot of reminders that Jonas is a ‘player’ now - it’s shown by Jonas himself, by the boys teasing him, by Hanna’s sad little ‘I’m happy for him’ message etc etc. And all of it serves to remind Matteo that he can never have what he’s wanted for so long. So it’s no wonder that he removes himself from the situation to go get rolls or whatever it was that he bought. The ‘I’m waiting for you’ banter would absolutely be the last straw. Jonas can joke that he wants a guy, but Matteo knows that he’s not going to ever be able to have it be true for real. As an aside, I can see why a lot of people thought Jonas might be GerEven at the time because a) Matteo’s thing has always been a lot more obvious and b) Jonas seems much more open and willing to consider the ideas.

Clip three: Well, I don’t have a lot to say about this one. Except that !!!!! this first ‘meeting’ with David is so good and so well done and it works to rock both of them out of their little ruts and makes them both ‘wake up’ in a way. It’s nothing, just a chance meeting in a hallway, two boys passing then looking back at each other. But we can see just how much that one glance affected Matteo as he walks off and while we don’t see it in David as yet, he also makes reference to how knocked off course he felt when he met Matteo. I have always liked that they’re in the same year and so on a real equal footing from the start and this is all part of that. This moment affects both of them equally, knocking them out of their complacency, and it’s such a perfectly framed and filmed and edited moment.

Clip four: One thing I hadn’t noticed til this time around is that the girl who ends up sitting next to Jonas was at the back of the classroom, already sitting at a desk, earlier. She obviously saw her moment and scrambled to take it - the second Matteo was out of his seat, she was in it. Perhaps news of Jonas’s new ‘player’ status is getting out and she wants some of that action. I really like that Matteo and Amira already clearly have a much more friendly history than Isak and Sana. They’re both forced to work together by circumstances and a teacher, but here there’s already more of a history. Also, correct me if I’m wrong, but Sana came to Isak but here Matteo goes to Amira. That’s because of course Matteo more obviously stashed the weed on Amira and so he immediately knows who has it and where he has to go to get it back. But it again makes him more proactive than Isak was at this early stage. Amira is rightfully pissed at him - Sana was defending a friend from Isak’s shitty behaviour, Amira was herself affected and so she is much more firmly involved and has more reason to be cold. Which works because in general Amira is softer and less aggressive and cold than Sana is so it fits for her to be directly angry for herself.

Clip five: ugh, so uncomfortable!!! Sara is trying really hard to actually communicate with Matteo, and kudos to her for actually using her words, but it’s so painfully obvious how awkward and artificial this conversation is. It’s not really a surprise that she doesn’t feel like this is totally settled as yet and asks Leonie to keep it to herself. On the one hand, he agreed that they’re together (after making her make the decision) but on the other hand, he broke away from kissing etc so they could watch something together. His words may be saying what Sara wants to hear, but his body language etc is saying something entirely different. She deserves a whole lot better than Matteo and the way he’s using her, but I guess this is how it can be - he’s cute, he’s not totally rejecting her and so she lets herself believe.

Clip six: well, again. This clip does such a good job of properly introducing David with several hints to what’s going on with him but no actual answers. It’s another example of two people talking at cross purposes, but where Sara lets it drop and the conversation dies out once she hears what she wants to hear, here David picks it up again once Matteo backs off. Again, they are a good pair - equally invested and equally willing to set and respect boundaries and try to make connections in a safe way. Imagine how this must look to David - this boy who did shake his world up a bit in their one small moment together (as another aside - ugh the wait between that first sight and this one is so long in real time!!!), is intriguing and interesting and asks him to go smoke with him. Which is all very cool and David wants these connections and to make friends and this boy clearly appealed to him in some way at that first meeting. But also, this boy is asking all kinds of invasive question which threaten the things David is trying to keep private, for example the pressing of ‘you’re new’ and how ‘weird’ it is to change schools at this point. It’s no wonder David goes cold and distant and does his best to stay aloof. But then of course Matteo respects that boundary and pulls back and so then David is able to make connections in a safer way, talking of things that matter to him but which aren’t quite so confronting for a first chat. Detroit, running away etc and Matteo shows that he gets it and understands those impulses. And so by the end they’ve fairly quickly established a connection and a rapport and so Sara’s intrusion is unwelcome to both of them. Given that David literally runs away when she appears, I wonder how much he knows of her from their shared class. She certainly doesn’t seem to know much except that he’s the guy Leonie likes. Speaking of which, Matteo’s ‘I think that’s someone else’ is so bizarre in this situation. He’s talking to a ‘new’ kid at school and Sara made it clear that Leonie likes the new kid, so he shouldn’t be surprised. But it’s obvious he already wants David for his own and acknowledging that Leonie may also like him is too much, I guess. After Jonas and his string of people hanging off him, I doubt Matteo wants to be caught up in something similar with David. We’ve already seen how painful a crush on an uninterested guy is for Matteo and how much of himself he has to hide away - no wonder he wants David to be ‘someone else’ and actually be someone he can think about in that way after they started to make a connection.

#druck #og druck #matteo episode one #I had such a moment of 'I'm home' when I started watching the first clip #this is my Druck home and always will be

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Good Pitches

Rating: Teen and Up

Words: 3179

Read it on AO3

@today-in-fic

Summary: post-ep for Milagro/The Unnatural

April 1999

Something had shifted after Padgett. She’d been afraid that this would end like it had with Jerse, Mulder angry at her indiscretion and further than ever from understanding her. Maybe this was different because they were different, closer than they were when she met Jerse. Maybe it was what Padgett had said, about her being in love. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to refute that statement, but she also hadn’t been able to meet Mulder’s eye. Did he know? She could admit to herself that she wanted him to. Maybe if he knew, he’d be brave enough to take the leap that they were both too chickenshit to take, each of them too fearful of learning that they were wrong, of being rejected. How could they carry on after that? If Mulder knew how she felt about him, maybe that would be all it took.

The way he treated her after he found her blood-soaked on his apartment floor was nothing like the derisive cut of his words after Jerse. He was so incredibly tender with her, holding her like a glass vase, soothing her like a brittle plant. Even in her abject terror, she had noted the feel of his fingers against her sternum while he unbuttoned her blouse, and the gentle flutter of his touch as he explored her torso for wounds. If not for the state of shock she was in, she may have caught his eye, and told him without words that Padgett was right, she was in love. Instead she folded her tiny body into his, tucked safely against his chest. Even as the crime scene investigators wandered in and out, even as Skinner came by and eyed them suspiciously, she never let go of him. She was unashamed, for once, of needing him. And he was unashamed, as always, of wanting to be needed by her.

That night, after her bloody clothes had been collected as evidence, he drove her back to her apartment wearing his t shirt and basketball shorts, which fit her like capri pants. He’d packed himself a bag under the excuse of his apartment being tended to by the crime scene cleanup crew, but really he just didn’t want her to leave her alone. He’d stood by her side in the bathroom and chivalrously turned his back so she could step into the shower, standing guard nearby in case she needed him. Watching blood swirl around the drain as it sloughed off her skin, still unsure of it’s origin, she’d wished desperately he were right beside her under the water, something sturdy to lean against. Her touchstone. Knowing that he would be here in a heartbeat, if only she’d ask him, somehow made it even worse. When she shut off the water, he stood just outside the curtain with a towel held open wide, protecting her privacy until he wrapped it around her shivering frame, and she steadied herself against him, breathing in the smell of his skin through his t shirt. They stood there like that for a long time, until finally he wordlessly scooped her up and carried her into her bedroom, seeming to sense that she didn’t have the strength to get herself there. Seeming to know that she would allow and even welcome this particular show of intimacy and care. She’d had the overwhelming urge to tell him she loved him, but she didn’t. Sitting on the edge of her bed he’d dressed her, first pulling her t shirt over her neck and then allowing her to pull her arms free from the towel one at a time and thread them through the sleeves. She was relatively sure that he could see her breasts, but it didn’t seem to matter. What was a breast when he had seen her broken open in grief, in pain, in fear? Her nakedness hardly seemed as private as all that. Next he’d held her pajama pants at her feet so that she could slip each leg in before standing to pull them over her hips, discarding the towel. He didn’t give her underwear and she didn’t question it, knowing him well enough to predict that he thought it would be an invasion of privacy to open her underwear drawer, and seeing that she was too distraught to care about underwear.

“You should eat something” he told her as she crawled under the covers, his voice laden with concern.

She shook her head; food was a foreign object right now. All she needed was sleep. When he went to leave the room, she sat up, her eyes full of fear. She didn’t need to voice the question.

“I’m going to take a shower, is that okay? I’ll only be gone a few minutes.”

She nodded solemnly.

“I was going to ask if you wanted me to sleep on the couch…” his voice trailed off as her face answered him. She wanted him close. Needed him there. He nodded. “I’ll be right here, just give me a few minutes.”

She lay there, listening to the rush of the water, waiting for him to return to her side. She was so incredibly exhausted, but unable to sleep. Each shadow seemed to take the form of the psychic surgeon, each creak of the floorboards was Padgett here to look into her soul. Within 5 minutes, Mulder slipped into the bed beside her in a t shirt and his boxer shorts, his skin warm and welcoming, his hair wet and spiked. She went to him, without regard for personal space, professionalism, boundaries or logic. Tucking her head just under his chin, she pressed the length of her body to his and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her somehow even closer than she had gotten herself. Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks and dampened his shirt, and his hand gently rubbed her back, his lips planting soft kisses to her hair.

“You’re okay, I’m here” he told her, and she wished she could somehow crawl inside his body, needing him even closer than this, wanting him in more ways than she had previously understood.

She fell asleep to the sound of his heart beating, the metronome to which she kept the time of her life. A rhythm unwritten but that she knew by memory. The sweet song of Mulder.

Since that night, something was different, but delightfully so. She felt less guarded with him, more free to laugh and be silly. Unafraid of incidental flirting or mixed messages. When he’d asked her to meet him at the office on a sunny Saturday afternoon, she’d had the girlish idea that he had ulterior motives and that this would be something like a date. She was disappointed to find that he just wanted her help digging through the archives, but the playful way he interacted with her, culminating in him stealing a bite of her ice cream, set off butterflies in her belly in a way she hadn’t experienced in years. She’d spent the rest of that day in a dreamy stupor, smiling idiotically at nothing, garnering friendly hellos from passers by and her neighbors. Had love made her more approachable? Returning from the grocery store to his message, she’d talked herself out of changing her clothes or freshening her makeup, not wanting to read into this something that wasn’t there. The case he was researching was baseball related, after all, so in all likelihood he was asking her to join him there for help with the case.

She was able to keep her demeanor cool and unaffected right up until he put the baseball bat in her hands and curled his long body around hers. His breath hot on her neck and his fingertips on her hip bone made her heart race; this definitely wasn’t work related. When the kid running the pitching machine told Mulder that his mother was expecting him home and took off, she’d felt the words rising in her throat to bid him a good night and go home herself; that’s what she would typically do, after all. Instead she swallowed and waited to see what would happen if she didn’t leave. What would have happened so many nights if she’d simply stuck around?

Mulder walked into the small dugout, sized for little leaguers so that he had to duck a little to fit. He was putting the bat, glove and baseballs into a large duffel bag, perhaps also preparing himself for the night to end. Ignoring the nervous flutter in her gut, she followed him into the dugout and sat down on the little bench that ran along the back wall. How was it that after as many dangerous situations as she’d been in, as many times her life was at risk, that this felt scarier than any of them? How could she know exactly what to do with a gun pointed at her, but be completely lost when it came to something as simple as telling him how she felt? When the choice was possible death or possible rejection, she only knew how to risk her life, not her heart.

Mulder sat down beside her, an open bag of sunflower seeds in his hand, and propped his feet up on the half-wall that faced the field. He held out the bag and she took a handful, which was a rare occurrence. He always offered them to her, though 98% of the time she declined. The few times she had accepted, the delighted smiled on his face was worth the unpleasantness of picking shards of shell out of her teeth for hours (she wasn’t nearly as skilled as he was at cracking them). She felt like now was a good time to make that sacrifice and see that smile, and he delivered. She held his gaze for a moment as he beamed at her, the doubled joy of her sharing his interest in baseball and sunflower seeds apparent on his face.

“How do you open these things without destroying the shell, Mulder? What’s the secret?” For every time she’d rolled her eyes at the things that excited him, she was going to make up for it now.

“It’s all about breaking the shell at the right angle, watch.” He held a seed between his front teeth with his lips pulled back so she could see how he applied pressure until it split evenly along the seam, then deftly used his tongue to pull the seed into his mouth, flicking the shell away with his breath. She mimicked him and he laughed when the shell and the seed splintered, an inseparable mess. They shifted their bodies so that they were turned towards each other, one leg bent against the back wall of the dugout. He showed her several more times and she was an eager student, studying the position of the seed, but also taking the opportunity to admire the fullness of his bottom lip and the shadow of his stubble sprouting so late in the evening. When she finally got it, the seed emerging intact, she smiled at him so broadly her gums showed, a rare sight. He gave her a high-five and their fingers instinctively threaded together upon contact, dropping down to rest between on the bench them still interlaced. Her heart started to race, recognizing the tension in the moment and the desire that flickered in his hazel eyes. She knew he wanted to kiss her, and she knew she wanted him to, so why was this so hard? She was afraid the moment would pass, but she couldn’t figure out how to capture it. Should she lean forward to signal him? If she did and he didn’t reciprocate, she’d die of embarrassment.

“What are you thinking about?” His voice startled her, and she was suddenly afraid he could hear her thoughts.

She gave him a shy smile and chuckled, averting her gaze.

“I was thinking about” he started, “being up to bat, playing baseball.”

She gave him an incredulous look. Maybe she had misread his signals after all. Their hands were still wrapped together between them.

“Hear me out, Scully.” He responded to her expression. “I was thinking about being up to bat and looking for the good pitches. You only want to swing on the good ones, or you’ll strike out, right?”

She nodded, indicating that she was following him.

“But sometimes, you’re so afraid of swinging on the bad pitches that you miss the good ones too. And I was thinking that….sometimes I feel like that with you. I’m not sure if it’s a good pitch, and I don’t want to fuck it up. I don’t want to strike out, so I don’t swing at all.”

She met his eye and smiled coyly at him, understanding. Feeling a surge of bravery.

“You could always ask, Mulder.”

“No, that’s definitely against the rules, Scully. You’re not allowed to ask.” He was being glib, a typical response to his own discomfort.

“Different game, different rules” she offered, shifting slightly towards him, almost imperceptibly, but he picked up on it.

“So, if I were to ask you.” He paused to take a breath. “If I were to ask you if it would be okay if I kissed you right now, would that be a strike or a run?”

“The baseball metaphor lost me, Mulder” she answered, the lean of her torso increasing towards him steadily, the hand that wasn’t holding his floating up to meet with his jaw, her thumb brushing his cheek.

He slowly closed the remaining space between them, his lips meeting hers in a gentle brush, then sighing as she slid her hand to the back of his neck, pulling him into her and pressing the full pout of her mouth against his. His free hand found her waist as their lips separated briefly and then met again, this time slightly parted, and she darted her tongue out to slide against his lower lip before she pulled it into her mouth and sucked it gently. He made a little sound in the back of his throat that sent a rush through her pelvis and she had an overwhelming urge to crawl into his lap. Mulder must have intuited that urge because he let go of her hand and slipped both palms under her thighs, pulling her on to him. Pivoting his body so that he was again facing forward, towards the ball field, she steadied herself with a knee on the bench on either side of his hips and sat on the tops of his thighs, the suggestive nature of the position sending a thrill through her. Her hands on his neck and his on her hips, they explored each other’s mouths, licking, tasting and nipping each surface, recognizing something familiar and yet entirely new. When his hands pushed down to cup her ass, a little moan escaped her lips and he growled in response. Breaking the kiss, she pulled back a little, breathless and flushed.

“We should probably go” she heard herself say. The reasonable side of her brain was taking back over.

“Probably should. Go where?” He asked, unsure if this proposition was a conclusion or a location change. His hands were still on her ass.

She laughed “It occurs to me that we’re in a children’s baseball dugout. I’m not sure it’s the most appropriate venue.”

He nodded, agreeing begrudgingly. “I just need a minute, if you don’t mind.”

She laughed again, ignoring the new wave of desire that sent through her, and stood up, moving to sit on the half-wall opposite him.

He took a deep breath, blowing it out hard through puffed cheeks, then looked at her with adoring eyes. She felt so beautiful when he looked at her, especially like that. She resisted the urge to go back to him and and pick up where they’d left off. After a moment, he slowly stood and picked up his duffel bag, and she followed him out of the dugout and towards the parking lot. He draped his arm over her shoulder as they walked, neither of them speaking. What was there to say? This moment, a culmination of years of tiny brushes of intimacy, didn’t need explanation or discussion. They both knew, intuitively, that it was the start of a new chapter, perhaps even the opening of a new book, and that they’d discover where the plot took them as they went along, just as they always did. They reached her car and he set the bag on the ground as she opened the door, leaning against the body of the car instead of getting inside. They stood there facing each other for a moment, awkwardness again taking root, both knowing what they wanted but unsure of how, or who, to initiate. Finally Mulder spoke.

“Thanks for coming. I had fun.”

She dipped her chin with a smirk and a blush, the implication of his statement both exciting and embarrassing.

“Likewise” she forced out, meeting his eyes only momentarily. She wished they had driven together so there would be a reason for them both to end up at one of their apartments, and at the same time she was grateful that wasn’t the case because it would probably be too much, too quickly. He stepped toward her, but the lack of height in her shoes meant he towered over her, a full foot between their faces.

“I’ve always known you were short, but it’s suddenly much more noticeable” he cracked, and she turned her face up to his, smiling softly.

“You’re a smart guy, Mulder. I’m sure you can problem-solve your way out of that conundrum.”

He stooped a little and lifted her by the hips, eliciting a delighted squeal, and pinned her against the car with the weight of his body so that they were face to face, his hips planted firmly between her thighs. Her hands wrapped around his shoulders for stability and her breath caught at the feel of his groin pressed firmly between her legs.

“See, I knew you’d figure it out” she teased as his hands danced under the hem of her shirt, lightly grazing the skin of her sides. Her pulse was quickening again, but there was even less privacy here than in the dugout.

He shook his head at her as if to chastise. “You’re gonna get me in trouble, G-woman.”

“I’ve never known you to avoid trouble, Mulder.”

He laughed then, and kissed her, softly, twice on the lips before dropping her back down to the ground. She was surprised that she felt disappointed that it hadn’t continued, but given the venue she knew it was for the best. She climbed in to the driver’s seat of her car and buckled her seat belt, leaving the door open. Mulder leaned in as she turned the key in the ignition and kissed her again, three times, before pulling back.

“To be continued” he said, then closed the door and walked towards his own car several spaces away.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #sculder #msr #xf fanfic

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msmarvelwrites · 4 years

Text

Season Of The Witch - Part 3

Summary: Your witchy abilities get you in quite a bit of trouble from time to time… But this time you don’t mind so much.

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: Swearing, Anxious reader, implied smut but still 18+ pleasee!

Word Count: 2.7k

Author's Note: Hey you guys! Hope everyone is having a good week so far! It’s been a long couple few days here, but I’m feeling productive today so here we are. Happy reading! Please like and reblog if youve read, your support means so much to me!

Thank you forever to @cutie1365 for all her help and advice on this fic. She’s killing it and you should definitely go check out her work!

You sat, defeated and mentally drained in the wreckage that was your bedroom floor. After you ripped almost everything out of your closet it was decided, you simply could not go tonight. All you wanted to do was sink into the floor and let the miss-matched fabric swallow you whole without surrender. It could be the idea of spending the night surrounded by screaming thoughts… It could also be the frigid rejection you had received earlier from Bucky, but either way your fate was sealed. It was better if you just bailed. Peter would be disappointed he wouldn't have someone to escape the ‘adult-ier adults’ with him, but he would understand. Wanda, however, would not be so forgiving.

The knock on your bedroom door sufitialtly pulled you from your own daydreams.

“Miss Y/L/N, Miss Maximoff is here to see you. Shall I let her in?” The A.I. spoke. You rolled your eyes, a groan slipping from your lips as you hawled yourself off the floor and onto the bed. “Yes, thank you, Friday.” You mumbled.

Seconds later, Wanda was skipping into your room with a shy grin smoothed over her pink lips. You knew that look all too well, and to this day, it worried you.

“Hello there friend.” She chimed, swinging the fabric bag she carried onto the bed and taking a seat beside you. “I can see I’ve interrupted your existential crisis.” She chuckled, gesturing to the mess you had made.

“I’m not going, Wan.” You stated, watching her carefully as she rolled her eyes.

“Like hell you're not going. What’s Bucky going to do without you to shadow?” He chided, eyeing you carefully. She was watching for a reaction, anything to confirm her suspicions. She had probed you for information this time last week. You couldn't hide from her, she knew you too well. Not only in her gifts, but also in spirit. She was one of the first people you really opened up to, and she often used that against you. Especially when trying to discover why you andBucky seemed to be in a much better mood lately. ‘Antidepressants’ was your final answer.

“I actually don't care what Bucky does. Maybe he’ll get lucky with Steve tonight.” You joked. God you hoped you were joking.

“Shut up, Y/n. I know somethings going on with you two.”

“Who two?” Peter inclined striding into your room and flopping onto the bed, his head sitting between you and Wanda as he looked up at her.

“Y/n and Bucky are doing it.” She indulged him as his face fell. He crawled around so he could look at you dead on, his face contorting into that of disgust.

“You and- and… Mr. Barnes? No…” He grimaced, shaking his head like he had tasted something sour.

“No! There is nothing going on between Bucky and I.” you insisted, glaring at Wanda.

“Don’t listen to her, Peter. She’s a filthy liar. And she’s totally banging Barnes.” Wanda giggled as you shoved her into the pillows.

“Banging? Oh god no- I’m picturing it… Make it stop!” Peter gagged sarcastically, toppling over onto Wanda as they both fell into a fit of laughter.

“I don't know why I tolerate you two.” You chuckled, watching your friends writhe on the bed. In a moment of distraction, Peter grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you down on top of him.

“You know you need us. What would you do, huh? hangout with Steve the ninety year old virgin? And I know you avoid Natasha like the plague because everytime you see her she drags you to the gym… No, no you need us.” Peter smiled, tucking one of his arms under his neck as he shifted onto his back. You laid there on the bed between him and Wanda as you all contemplated that.

“If I tell you, you have to promise it stays between us. I’m looking at you, Parker. Stark canNOT know about it.” You signed, glaring at him until he nodded. “So… Maybe it's possible Bucky and I might be… I don’t know what you’d even call it… I guess we're trying to…”

“Is bump nasty’s still a term?” Wanda asked, false innocence in her eyes as she looked at you. Both you and Peter threw your heads back laughing and he elbowed her.

“That’s awful.” Peter giggled, pointing his finger in his mouth and gagging.

You spent the next hour explaining what was really going on between you and Bucky. How you were definitely not ‘bumping nasties’ and that it was just pure and new and so, so incredibly hot.

“You have to go tonight.” Wanda sighed, holding up a little black dress infront of the floor length mirror.

“And do what?” You huffed, falling back on the bed and worrying on your bottom lip. “Bucky basically ran out of the room the moment I brought up the idea of-”

“Bumping Nasties?” Peter piped up, to which Wanda rocketed a pillow at his face, the crimson current sizzling around it.

“Yeah, that.” You chuckled, letting your face drop in your hands. This was just embarrassing. You’d never been so hung up on a guy before. But then again, Bucky wasn't just some guy.

“If only you could know what he was thinking…” Wanda smirked, turning on her heel and silently asking Peters approval of the dress. He shrugged in response, gaining a frustrated eye roll from the redhead.

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t mean to listen in… It’s an invasion of privacy.”

“That's never stopped you before.” Peter argued, a goofy smile plastered on his lips.

“Listen, read his mind- don't read his mind. It doesn't matter. The guy is obviously crazy about you. He’s always so dark and gloomy but lately the guy actually smiles. I heard him laugh the other day,” Wanda smirked, sitting beside you on the bed. “At one of Sam’s jokes.” She finished.

“Yeah, Y/n. You gotta go. Do it for us. Also because you're the only one who will sneak me booze under the table.” Peter chuckled, his bottom lip wobbling as he pleaded with you.

“Fine. But only because drunk Peter is the better Peter.”

Wanda nodded her head in agreeance, grabbing the fabric bag off the bed and throwing it in your lap. “Perfect. Wear this, I picked it out specially for you…”

The thumping sound of music vibrated through the hallway as you tangled yourself in the orange and black tassels hanging from the door. You always liked Halloween as a rule, but Tony’s parties were starting to put a damper on your fun.

You had thought that Bucky would have met you at your room to escort you to the event. He knew how badly you dreaded going, but he never showed. Maybe you had read him all wrong, you thought. Maybe this was all in your head, piecing together his thoughts into something you wanted to hear rather than the truth. Maybe the dress that Wanda had picked out for you was starting to cut off the circulation to your brain because it was getting harder and harder to think straight… Or was that just the music drowning out your mindless babble.

“Good evening, beautiful.” Peter hummed from beside you. His presence startled you as you hadn't heard him coming. He held out his arm offering it for you to hold. “Are you going in?”

The question hung in the air for a moment before you finally nodded your head, swallowing hard and taking his arm. It was moments like this that you were thankful for Peter. Truthfully you knew if he wasn't standing right there you might have ran for your life, bunkering down in your room in a blanket fort.

“Such a gentleman.” You cooed, resting your head on his shoulder as he walked you into the party.

“Nah, just a friendly neighborhood spider man. It’s good for my street cred, nothing more.” You brushed you off, pulling you into the buzzing room.

Voices filled your head, swirling around you as you tried to concentrate on just one. There had to be at least a hundred people here tonight. They crashed over you, swarming in your mind like bees in a hive. It had been forever since you had been in a crowd like this and the anxiety was starting to coarse through your veins.

“Hey. You're alright.” Peter assured you, pulling you across the room and over to the bar where Sam and Nat sat, laughing at something Tony had said.

“Well if it isn't the wicked witch of NewYork.” Sam called, pulling you into his chest. “Your shadow is around her somewhere. Probably off staring longingly at Steve.” He chuckled. You rolled your eyes, gnawing at your bottom lip as you scanned the room. Lo and behold, Bucky stood in the corner of the room with Steve, his eyebrows fused into a knot as his friend spoke something you couldn't make out over the booming music.

“He’s looking more pissy than usual.” Nat snorted, watching you as you gawked at the man. You didn't notice the small smirk that had appeared on her lips as she pieced together your frustration.

“Nah, that's just his resting face.” Tony quipped, pouring a tall glass of liquor and sliding it across the bar to you. You picked it up, lifting it to your lips and downing it seconds later as you clanked it back on the counter.

“Keep em’ coming. You guys are loud tonight.” You mumbled, your brain already beginning buzz as you forced your friends on ‘mute’. It was like a constant sit-up, you liked to describe. Eventually your body would cave and their thoughts would rush in, but the alcohol helped numb the ache and kept them at bay.

With another double in hand, you decided the liquid courage was exactly what you needed to confront the ‘gentleman’ he so eloquently had put.

As you closed in you noticed Steve elbowing Bucky, altering him of your presence. At the sight of you, his face fell, his eyes darting to the floor.

“Evening geriatrics.” You chuckled, downing your drink as mustering every fiber in your body to make eye contact with the ethereal man before you. To your dismay, he was staring back, his eyes a violent thunderstorm you were on the verge of losing yourself in. You swallowed hard, clearing your throat and attempting to calm your nerves as you scanned him over.

“Bucky. You look… Nice.” You choked out. His navy blue dress shirt was tucked neatly into his dark washed jeans, his hair perfectly placed in a way you knew had taken him forever before he was content to leave his room. The idea made you smile, but only for a moment as the sinking feeling crept back into the pit of your stomach.

“I’ll leave you two, to… Talk.” Steve waved his goodbyes, pulling you into a side hug and whispering in a hushed tone, “Take it easy on him.”

With that, Steve was gone, leaving you alone and vulnerable.

“You look incredible.” Bucky hummed, his eyes falling down your form, but his face remained unreadable.

Don’t just stand there, do something… Apologize… Kiss her… God, just stop staring and-

“I should apologize- for earlier. I shouldn't have run out on you like that. It won't happen again.” Bucky mumbled, his hands, vibranium and flesh stuffed in his jean pockets. You were caught off guard to say the least. You were ready, guns drawn to defend yourself, but there stood the infamous Winter Soldier, cowering before you like a lost puppy. Your eyes softened as a small smile pulled at the corner of your lips.

“Why did you leave?” You finally spoke, “I didn't mean to push you… Bucky, rushing is the last thing I wanted to do. If you want to-”

“No!” He blurted.

“No?”

“You're not rushing me. Damn, doll. I’m trying my best here, but you're walking around in that dress, with those lips and all I want to do is…” He trailed off, his eyes falling on your best as he worried on his bottom lip.

“So its my fault?” You gawked.

“No!” He almost shouted, lowering his voice when he caught a few unwarranted eyes at his tone. “It’s my fault. Y/n, I’m trying so hard to be respectful. I have no idea what I’m doing, I’m completely out of my depth here. This used to be so easy and now… The rules have changed and I can’t keep up and all I know if I want to throw you over my shoulder right now and haul you back to my room and make you mine. I just… It’s just that I’ve never…”

You gaped at him, caught off guard by his confession as you waited for his next words, but his thoughts broke through the air before he could speak.

Never used my arm as anything but a means to an end… You’re going to kill her with it… How can she see you as anything but a monster…? Doesn't she know how easy it would be to lose control…? It would take minutes… Seconds…

“Bucky…” You hummed, your hand resting on his metallic arm as you pulled him from his self destructive thoughts. His eyes pleaded with you, boring into your soul. “Dance with me.”

He stared at you, opening and shutting his mouth, trying to speak. It wasn't a question, but he nodded anyways, allowing you to pull him into the crowd of people swaying back and forth to the lulling music.

You took the lead, lifting his metal hand and placing it on your hip. You intertwined your fingers with his flesh hand, stumbling forward as he pulled you in, his strength startling you a little.

Oh, god…. Be gentle… Don’t break her, you ass.

You chuckled, resting your head against his chest as you relaxed into his form. His heart beat drawing out the incoherent thoughts around you. You swayed back and forth like that, until Bucky’s breathing returned to normal again. Your hand trailed down from his shoulder to his cool metal fingers. They tightened around your waist at your touch as he stiffened, holding in a breath.

“I’m not afraid of you…” You hummed against his chest. “That’s what you said to me… ‘I’m not afraid of you.’” You recanted the conversation you had had those weeks ago outside your room.

“I’m pretty afraid right now.” He admitted, resting his chin on top of your head as he breathed you in.

“You won’t hurt me, Bucky.” You assured, running your fingers up and down his arm, listing to it whirl as he moved. “See? We’re dancing. You're holding me, and I’m not broken. I’m right here.”

Gently, you placed your hand on the side of his cheek, meeting his eyes. He swallowed hard, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared back at you. You would have given anything to kiss him right there, to melt into him and ease his mind like only he did for you.

“I don't remember how to dance.” He signed, pain dripping from his words.

“I can teach you.” You smiled into him, the smell of his cologne enveloping your senses.

“And can you teach me what you like?” He asked, his voice a low gruff in your ear. “Where you crave to be touched, and kissed and moved.”

His voice sent a shiver down your spine, the hairs on the back of your neck standing as his lips trailed down the shell of your ear. His words sent a heat straight to your core as his breath fanned across your cheek causing a blush to creep up your chest.

“You have to sneak me out of this party first.” You chuckled, trying (and failing) to steady your rapid heart.

“Baby, you're hanging with a strained assassin now. Let me teach you a thing or two...” He bragged, his pink lips pulling at the corner of his mouth into a smirk.

________________________________________________________________

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blog4snape · 3 years

Text

What if I Meant it? (2)

Pairing: (young) Severus Snape (M) x Reader (F)

Genre: Fluff with some soft angst

Rating: Citrus (very safe for work)

Summary: A follow-up from the previous chapter. After Severus leaves your classroom, you notice he left his book behind.

Warnings: *spoilers* invasion of privacy

Word Count: 1.7K

Date Written: 9/10/2020

~~~~

June 18th, 1978

After Severus left your classroom in a huff, you sighed, turning your gaze over to the indentation he had left in the pit. He had forgotten his book. You pulled yourself up from your chair and crossed the room to the fortress of pillows, gingerly picking up the discarded item. The book opened naturally to an outlined message, the words smudged from constant touch. Several pages were folded into the shape of a heart with notes written hastily into the inner margins. Curious, you squinted your eyes trying to read the blotched and scribbled writing in the inner corner of the book. Your face flushed, immediately snapping the book shut and holding it farther away from you.

After a moment of collecting yourself, you stared down at the cover of his book. It was an outdated divination book, one he must have gotten from a secondhand book shop for next to nothing. ‘But then again,’ you thought to yourself, ‘all of divination is quite outdated.” You scratched your scalp.

In your syllabus and throughout the first week of classes, you had expressed that there was no need for any of your students to buy the books. You didn’t require any of your students to purchase divination books, as most of the lessons you taught were hands-on anyway and the books were frankly full of rubbish. Tracing a finger over the worn-out cover, you smiled softly to yourself. Severus was an excellent listener--it couldn’t have been a mishearing--he must have taken an interest in the subject to go out of his way to purchase a divination book.

‘Or in you.’ The words floated in your head, reminding you of the notes you had just seen scratched into the book still in your hands.

You sighed, laying in the pit. It was still warm from where Severus had been resting, and you caught a hint of the scent of pine and lavender that would tend to cling to him. You opened the book once more, flipping through the notes he had written.

“That dunderhead Potter wasn’t paying attention to the lesson on Ichthyomancy. He got slapped by the fish we were working with today-”

You laughed, remembering the giant trout that smacked James Potter’s face last week when he decided to mess with it during your lesson after your instruction not to. “You deserved it, Potter,” you laughed, causing other students to follow your footsteps. You said it then and you’d say it again now.

“-It was pretty great, even the professor laughed at him. She has a cute laugh.”

As your eyes traveled further down the page, seeing what Severus thought of your laugh made it halt in your throat. Your cheeks burned as you continued to read the comments he wrote. The majority of all of the writing was about divination class- most of them were notes he had written from the lectures. You allowed yourself to have a new teacher’s proud grin, seeing that he was getting a lot out of your lessons. But as you kept turning pages, you found yourself appearing in the margins more and more. Not all of the words were about you, but many of them mentioned you in some way or another.

‘I told her I had taken quite a liking to ferns. The next week she waved me over after class with a huge smile on her face. She looked so excited. She gave me a tiny fern plant whose sparse fronds had yet to unfurl.’

Next to the note was a small doodle of a baby fern. You grinned, it was the cutest drawing you’ve ever seen.

‘She tutored me after class today. She told me to “keep up the good work” and hugged me afterward.’

You nodded, glad to help your students feel more confident in their abilities and glad that Severus Snape was one of them.

‘She baked us biscuits because we all got high marks on the test last week. They tasted good.’

You smiled, happy to know your students liked your gifts. For every test they aced, you would give your students biscuits as a reward. You figured the upperclassmen deserved a treat every now and then, as they’re usually stressing about the OWLs and their NEWT classes.

‘She has pretty eyes.’

Your smile faded. You had to read that line again. You adjusted the book in your hands, moving one hand to your temple. Were you reading that right?

‘She held me while I cried. It was all I’ve ever wanted. I want her to hold me again.’

‘She doesn’t want to tell me about who she saw that night. But, she didn’t ask me about the werewolf. So I guess I’ll stop asking her. For now.’

That night a boggart was in your classroom. You bit your index nail, images of your boggart pressing into your mind. With all that had been happening lately, you didn’t even realize he had stopped asking you but you instantly felt gratitude blossom in your chest. You read the past two notes again, feeling regret at the way you handled the situation. You wished you had been harsher. Any other teacher wouldn’t have given in to his demands. But he wasn’t just your student--he was your old friend.

‘Her hands are soft.’

Was he just your friend? Your heart thumped, wondering if he only thought of you as his friend, also.

‘I like her plants. She’s got a bunch all over the classroom. Whenever I ask her about one, she gets so excited and tells me all she can about it. I already knew most of it, but I haven’t the heart to interrupt her. I like when she gets passionate about something, and the way she rambles about plants is cute.’

The note was surrounded by small drawings of the plants around your classroom. You stroked the ink outlines of the leaves with an appreciative grin. He was rather talented.

‘She’s so cute when she’s setting something on fire.’

Despite the flush on your cheeks, you chuckled a bit. Divination allowed you to set a lot of things on fire, and sometimes you seemed just a bit too eager. ‘So are you,’ you murmured, thinking of Severus’ passion for learning.

‘She smiled at me today and told me something. I was too focused on her mouth to remember what she said.’

You absentmindedly stroked your lips. You took a moment to swear at yourself- urging yourself to stop reading this book, to stop reading Severus’ private feelings, and to stop feeling your own feelings, but you just kept going.

‘She named one of her plants, “Snargs.” I don’t know why, because it wasn’t even a Snargaluff, but it made me chuckle anyway.’

You smiled at the mention of your plant. Next to the note was a drawing of Snargs, your forever-flowering cactus with the name ‘Snargs’ written in a curly font above the plant. You looked up, seeing Snargs sitting on the high windowsill with his petals dancing in the soft summer breeze. You blew a kiss to him, placing his weekly watering schedule at the back of your mind as you kept reading.

‘She gave me a gift last Christmas. It was a new bag for my books. I saw her staring at the holes in my old bag the month before. The box didn’t have a sender, but I knew it was her. I could smell her perfume on it and it was her handwriting on the note inside.’

Embarrassed, you scratched the inside of your arm. You tried to be sneaky about your gift but it was certainly difficult getting anything past someone as observant as Severus. The two of you didn’t participate in the holiday’s secret santa event, but you could tell he desperately needed a new bag. His previous bag looked a century old, full of holes and nearly falling apart at the seams. His materials constantly fell out of his bag, and you had grown sorrowful every time he had to backtrack with downfallen eyes and a red face to retrieve his dropped items. You knew he didn’t want your pity, and you were afraid if you gave the bag to him in person he’d reject it, so you decided to be as anonymous as possible. You were glad he decided to use it anyway despite knowing where it came from in the end. Smiling, you wondered if he’d accept the gift if it came from anyone else.

Then, for the next few pages shaped like a heart, he had written your name in the margin in his best calligraphy, with pulsing hearts, twinkling stars, blossoming flowers, swimming fish, and tiny sketches of tarot cards. You stared, mesmerized at his magicked art, caressing the moving lines with your fingers. He wrote your names together in a heart, side by side with his. You couldn’t help the smile bubbling onto your curious face as you slowly took in every addition, fiddling with the corner of the dog-eared pages that had been shaped into a heart. You flipped the page, confused--there were tiny hearts drawn around an inky black mass. The mass was a jumble of rough sketch-lines, but they started to move. Your breath caught in your throat as the lines scribbled down on the paper formed an image of you, turning around and smiling. Nothing but astounding brightness was in your features, a direct contrast to the next notes he had written down.

‘I wonder if she feels the same as I do. She has to, right?’

You just couldn’t answer that question right now. You bit your lip, glancing up at the door as if Severus could burst in at any moment. You sighed, thinking about him as your eyes dropped back to the writing. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stroked the next horrible words beneath your finger, feeling his self-doubt emanating from the paper.

‘But who could ever like someone like me?’

The next note was a long paragraph, but whatever words you could see were smudged and crossed out. Ink had been spilled on top of the page, the black streaks marring the yellowed pages. The corner of the page was brandished with scorch marks.

~~~~

A/N: Thank you for reading! These “one-shots” (lol) are from a series called Afterimages of You. Here’s the masterlist for all of the one shots I have posted in the series. a big ol thank you to @thats-mrs-snape-to-you @bush-viper-cutie and @littl-prince for helping me, i love you guys!!

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wendydansembourg · 3 years

Photo

diana again, back with number two. i missed her too much so wendy is back! it’s also now canon wendy keeps missing all the good stories on account of ( my terrible timing ) but also hers. and just copy-pasting her old intro with a few minor edits cuz i’m lazy. & sorry to the admins for making everyone do more work, should have kept with the old blog wcndv.

&&. announcing her royal highness, ( wendy juliette d’ansembourg ), the ( 31 ) year old ( princess ) of ( luxembourg ). she is often confused with ( elizabeth olsen ). some say that she is ( fanciful & invasive ), but she is actually ( inquisitive & affectionate ).

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚

wendy was born the second child to the d’ansembourg royal family, a decade after the eldest child luca, but certainly not the last nor the most peculiar of what would be four ( a set of twins to come when she had reached ten ) but wendy was a happy child, loved by her family with her head in the clouds. her world was flowers and fairytales and as she grew so would that tender heart she wore on her sleeve.

not to mention that nose for news, anything that could lead to the truth was something wendy went after. asking too many questions and lending an ear to a conversation intended for another . . . which also happened to be how she got into writing. asking too many questions to too many people, one in particular who happened to be a professor who, after finding her eavesdropping on a conversations concerning a controversial boarding school policy, highly encouraged her to use that curiosity for something beneficial, like the school newspaper. sure, she’d written stories and force her siblings to sit around and listen to them before, but this was different and it’d come to be a lifelong affair.

but not the first, her first lifelong affair was with the idea of being in love, something that she’d become known for in the public eye. there was the palace boy when she was a child and probably her most humiliating heartbreak to date, he rejected the flowers she collected. the ones from the garden she tended to with her mother. there was also a prince or two, one who wouldn’t even give her the time of day once she had become attached and that was just the beginning. after wendy graduated from university and began her job writing columns for the luxemburger wort it was safe to say her public heartbreak incidents were on par with her best articles.

well, until the age of twenty four, when her father passed. wendy’s biggest heartbreak that shattered her world and that the world had come to know. she had lost herself, numb to everything but the pain that so often left her with dreams that her father had returned, only to wake alone. her sweetest nightmare. it took four years for her to become herself again, to feel like herself but those four years came and took another life, nathalie ( luca’s wife & someone who was dear to wendy’s heart ) and once again, she felt broken but this time, became the shoulder to cry on for her brother.

but life went on, or so she was told. her focus became her hobbies : gardening, reading conspiracy theories with snacks, daydreaming about love, traveling, the occasional attempt at dancing ( that one of her closest friends, a professional ballerina, always made appear effortless ) and of course, writing. wendy’s career as a journalist blossomed, much like the flowers she was so meticulous about tending to in her garden, she was faced with another public heartbreak which caused her to return home from her time spent in spain . . . and then the french invaded. kept to the confines of her home country, wendy and her younger sister lara did their best to organize on the domestic front, which included leaked information in the papers under a pseudonym : j. m. bly, a combination of j. m. barrie and nellie bly. along with publications under her own name outsourced to major international publications.

when the war ended and the french retreated wendy found herself lacking something, news, at least the type that could garner such interest as the war stories had. and while she loved her home, sitting around waiting for a story and indulging in one too many of those american chocolate chip cookies wasn’t going to cut it. after one phone conversation to luca concerning the earthquake that rocked the mountains of argentina wendy knew what was next, where the next big story would be, the program. so she took a sabbatical from the newspaper and found herself part of the protection program, looking for the next big story and maybe trying her hand at being a little more present at royal events. then she left . . . to chase a story before returning back and missing well, just about all the good stories.

𝒉��𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

wendy has a notebook filled with notes on specific flowers from her garden and hands it off to her younger brother every so often to draw the pictures

her garden had a two page spread in a local magazine

hobbies include: gardening, traveling, watching /read conspiracy theories

one of her heroes is the 19th century american pioneering investigative journalist

she loves coffee & tea for the aesthetic / aroma more than the taste ( half empty cups always )

despite always typing her articles wendy believes handwritten letters are peak romance vibes & had beautiful penmanship ( also left handed )

she has a bit of a sweet tooth especially for the chocolate chip cookies but is very particular about making sure she always eats her veggies

attended university in . . . ( england or new york cannot decide ) for journalism / comm.

much like violet baudelaire, that long hair of hers will be tied up when she gets to work

wendy loves train rides

since writing is her strongest form of communication wendy often thinks of amazing comebacks / things to say to people a day late

back in luxembourg she has a bunny rabbit named genevieve

when she was a child, wendy had appendicitis and required surgery

speaks / reads : luxembourgish, french, german, english, somewhat conversational dutch

writes : luxembourgish, english , french , german ( last two she needs heavy proof reading )

𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒔

scooby gang ; the daphne of the group, wendy has a career as a journalist and a nose for news, but she always gets into trouble without fail.

love sick ; she has had many a public heartbreak over the years , so angst & drama much appreciated. ( maybe some drama of : she liked this person but this person like another person and that person didn’t like either of them or someone else )

someone to catch wendy snooping for a story , maybe on them ?

she has a thing for reading random conspiracy theories/watching videos of them, with snacks ofc. join in on that.

someone to help her learn an instrument ; someone to teach her anything new really

a situation / people who were the subject of one of her articles & not shown in a favorable light

she has a vendetta against this person because when they visited luxembourg & toured the grounds they walked on some of her flowers

friends ofc ! she also has a canon bestie who is a ballerina so if anyone fits that

enemies we love angsty connections , anyone who favored the french during the invasion

#hshqintro #it's the same as before

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yuueee · 4 years

Text

song: bruno mars & b.o.b. - nothin’ on you slowed

word count: 2,456

request: Hello, if you're talking requests for atla. May I request a sokka x reader in which she works under Piandao and during Sokka's Master episode they meet and become close? Maybe they meet again during the finale or the Gaang asks her to accompany them on the rest of their journey?

author’s note: I am so sorry for taking forever to post something! I rewrote this and like 2 other fics almost 3 different times because I didn’t like how they were turning out so I hope this was okay🥺. thank u for requesting and I hope y’all enjoy!

“You want me to do what now?” you asked the boy in front of you incredulously, attempting to wiggle your shoulders out of his hands’ grip. He straight up lied to your face and expected you to just get over that? It had nothing to do with his water tribe heritage of course - being that you hated the fire nation’s outlook on the other countries and this pointless war as much as Piandao did. You just didn’t understand why he felt the need to lie to you about it!

During the meager amount of time you had to spend with him, you two had an immediate - albeit odd connection. He was able to get you out of your shell of composure in a way that Piandao and Fat were never successful in. On the contrary you aided him heavily in training and kept him motivated - although it often sounded more like insults.

“I know you’re upset but I promise I can explain everything later. But I really think you should join us in defeating the fire lord!” he reassured, his blue eyes seemingly sparkling in excitement. Shrugging out of his grasp and turning towards Piandao, you hoped that he would add in some useful input.

“But what use will I be if Master Piandao hasn’t even finished training me yet?” you asked, balling your fists in frustration. Your master simply shook his head and gave you a smile.

“{First-Name},” he spoke gently as to not further anger you, and leaned down to your height. “You are beyond my training at this point. Your destiny now lies in helping the avatar defeat the fire lord and besides - it’s what he would have wanted.” you couldn’t argue with that. Having trained you since around the age of twelve, he hadn’t heard you talk this much in all of the three years he had known you. Even after only knowing Sokka for about two days - he trusted you with him. He could see the positive effect you had on eacho other just from observing your interactions.

He’d be lying if he said that he hadn’t been worried about you ever since your father and his closest friends’ passing. You had went from a bubbly and joyous child to emotionally repressed and largely untalkative. Although he had still not seen you smile since before your fathers death - the outwardly expressed anger and frustration at Sokka’s idiocy was atleast something.

“I trust that you’ll be in good hands.” he said sternly, giving Sokka a pointed look.

“It’s settled then! You’re joining team avatar!”

While you weren’t quite sure why Sokka was so adamant on you joining him and his friends, you were somewhat happy to be leaving Shu Jing - which was new. Other than the weather being insufferably humid the majority of the year, your home in Piandao’s castle was bearable. In the past you hadn’t minded the repetitive nature of your days - but things were different now. You felt that you owed it to your father to join the fight against the country that took his life. And if this was the route you were forced to take, then so be it.

Surprisingly, as annoying as he was Sokka was the one you remained closest with in the group - but Toph was a close second. Though you didn’t talk with him that often, Aang was always kind and making sure that you felt included in the group - which wasn’t exactly necessary but appreciated none the less. Katara on the other hand was having some difficulty warming up to you - which you understood, so you didn’t speak to her unless necessary, which wasn’t often.

Although you had indeed become slightly more emotive and open, it was normally limited to sarcastic quips when Sokka said something stupid or asking Katara if she needed any help with groceries or cooking dinner - which she actually appreciated. Overall though, you still spent the majority of your time with Sokka. While he was still annoying and enjoyed teasing flirting with you every chance he could get, you’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t somewhat enjoying it - you’d never admit to that though.

One of the first times you got to be alone together was when you both were trying to escape Toph and Katara’s arguing.

“I’m going to head back out to the market,” he said, getting up off of the ground. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Wait, can I go with you?” you questioned somewhat awkwardly, getting out of your seat and sprinting some to catch up with him.

“Of course!” he grinned in return, slowing down some so you could walk at the same pace. His smile made your chest feel warm, slightly catching you off guard.

“So, is Piandao your dad or something?” he asked gently, trying not to press too much. Though it was a sensitive topic, you felt oddly comfortable with Sokka - even though you had only known him for several weeks. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” he responded to your silence, ceasing walking and looking at you sincerely. You shook your head in return and kept walking.

“No, it’s fine.” he nodded and followed apprehensively. “Piandao is kind of like my uncle I guess? He and my Dad were friends when they were both in the fire nation army. And you know how Piandao eventually deserted the army?”

“Yeah, I recall him saying that.” he gave you a concerned glance, but you kept your gaze trained on the ground in front of you. While your expression was obviously pained, it still seemed restrained in a way as if you had practiced holding back your feelings for years. It was at this point he realized he’d never seen you smile, not even when when you were making fun of him.

“Well, my Dad also attempted to leave - but he wasn’t as skilled as Piandao was.” there was a beat of silence before you felt his hand envelope your own, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. Normally if someone did this you would’ve snatched your hand away - but you didn’t want to. His hand felt nice, warm and comforting.

“I’m really sorry about your Dad, and it was really brave of him to try and leave the army.” he gave you a look of concern and understanding, leading you to remember him mentioning

“Um, thanks.”

The rest of your afternoon at the market was spent making conversation about your childhoods and the messenger hawk he had just bought. The entire time he never let go of your hand. You assumed he was just doing it out of friendly comfort - but then again who platonically holds hands? You only stopped when you both returned to the small campsite and greeted the others.

You didn’t mean to snatch your hand away, but at the same time you thought your heart was going to jump out of your chest if you didn’t let go. But it didn’t seem to bother Sokka though, not at all. So maybe it was just platonic? But this wasn’t the only situation in where he left you utterly flustered and confused.

When the five of you were seated around the campfire listening to Katara’s story, you could see Sokka inching towards you out of the corner of your eye. Everyone else seemed rather uncomfortable, and while it was a quite unnerving story if you were scared you weren’t showing it. As the story went on, he would jump closer which each detail - until he was eventually leaning on your shoulder with his arms wrapped around your waist, shaking in fear like a small child.

When she finished her story, Katara and Aang just stared in awe as you didn’t shove him off. You just rolled your eyes and mumbled something about him being an idiot. They noticed a change between you both after that day. You almost seemed closer in a sort of way? You still scolded him for saying and doing stupid things - but you no longer pushed him away. He was quite touchy and handsy with you, never in a disrespectful way though. It’s just when he got excited he’d sometimes pick up you up for a few seconds before placing you back on the ground. Whilst you didn’t really return his affections, you weren’t rejecting him either. But the two of you were forced to confront this rising attraction all to soon, the day of the invasion.

You had a moment alone before you had to go your separate ways. After staring down at your feet for what seemed like a few minutes, you gained the courage to speak.

“Don’t, uh die.” you finally said aloud, meeting his gaze. Before you could say anything else he doubled over in laughter, clutching his stomach to get a hold of himself. “Sokka I’m being serious!” you said in frustration, seconds away from turning around and getting back into the submarine. Once he calmed down, he placed both of his hands on your shoulders and gained a serious expression.

“I’m sorry for laughing. But we’re gonna get out of this alive. Okay?” he finished his sentence with a smirk, tilting his head to the side. You nodded, feeling somewhat disappointed for some reason. But what were you expecting? You were just friends, and you didn’t like him like that anyway... right? Your thoughts cut off when you felt a pair of lips peck your cheek and his hands leave your shoulder to interlock with one of your own. “Come back to me okay?” he said sincerely, his eyes filled with worry.

“I promise.”

After the failure at the fire nation capitol, the few weeks before the arrival of Sozin’s comet blurred by far too quickly for your liking. The anxiety concerning Aang’s final battle with the fire lord was a top concern on everyone’s mind, including your own. Things were a bit stagnant between you and Sokka. You couldn’t ignore your feelings but at the same time you were fighting a war - there wasn’t any time to put energy into a relationship.

However after you, Toph and Sokka took down the airships, you were forced to confront these feelings yet again.

After riding with Appa over Ba Sing Se to look at the fireworks, you two were aimlessly roaming around the upper ring - watching the festivities of those celebrating the end of the hundred year war.

“So,” he asked suddenly, looking at you with a smile and nudging your arm jokingly. Normally you would have shoved him back, but all you could do was look down at your fidgeting hands and hope he couldn’t hear how fast your heart was beating. “What do you plan on doing now?”

“Um, I’m honestly not sure.” you responded, looking up at him. “I guess I’ll go back to the fire nation? I still want to help, I just don’t really know where I guess.”

“I get what you mean. I mean you could always stay with me...”

“With you?” Sokka began sputtering and waving his hands around after realizing what he just insinuated.

“I mean not with me per say.” he rephrased, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. You actually felt a tinge of disappointment at his words. “I mean with team avatar, we aren’t exactly finished saving the world - and you’re a vital member of our team.” Instead of calling him an idiot like you would have in the past, you gave him a small smile - catching him completely off guard and causing him to blush.

“I’d like that.” He intertwined you’re fingers and ran his thumb over the back of your hand. Before you could speak again you were interrupted by the rest of your friends running towards you.

“We were wondering where the two of you ran off to!” Katara said slightly out of breath, leaning over.

“We were having a moment and you ruined it!” Sokka shouted at his sister, causing her to start complaining about how he shouldn’t have broken off from the group without telling them if he didn’t want to be followed. As they continued to bicker, you felt Toph shove your shoulder.

“It’s about time you two got together.”

“Shut up Toph.”

Several years into the future, you continued to aid team avatar in helping the the different nations recover from the wars aftermath. Surprisingly, you and Sokka’s relationship still had no title and stayed undefined. To everyone else’s was clear you were together - but you still hadn’t kissed or showed in public displays of affection as of late. To on onlooker it just looked like you both could’ve been close friends. But that would finally change when you and Toph went to visit Katara and Sokka in the southern water tribe.

After greeting Katara, you were almost knocked off of your feet by the force of Sokka hugging you and eventually picking you up so you were about a foot off the ground.

“I missed you so much!” he borderline squealed, rocking you back and forth a bit.

“I missed you too, but can you set me down for a minute? I have something to give you.”

“You do?” he asked, his eyes sparkling in excitement. Reaching behind you, you handed him a sword with slightly shaky hands. “Is this, for me?”

“Yes.” you replied quietly, looking down at your fidgeting hands - still not rid of the habit even at 17. “I felt really bad after you lost your space sword and I couldn’t find another meteor but I wanted to make you a new one to replace it anyways...” you continued to ramble on before you heard the sword drop onto the snow covered ground with a quiet *crunch*. “Hey! I get that it’s not your old one but that doesn’t mean I didn’t spend a lot of timmmph!” you were cut off when you felt his lips cover your own, his arms wrapping around your waist.

You didn’t kiss back at first out of shock, but eventually did so and cupped his cheeks with your gloved hands. Once you broke apart, he leaned his forehead on yours. “I love it.”

Later on that evening when everyone had turned in for the night, you found yourself tucked into Sokka’s chest as he snored softly - his head resting on top of yours and his arms protectively encircled around your waist. Though the journey had been long and exhausting, you were greatful for it. Maybe joining team avatar hadn’t been such a bad idea after all?

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - @practicallylivesonline

#sokka x reader #sokka imagine #atla x reader #sokka x you #sokka x y/n #avatar x reader #avatar #sokka #avatar: the last airbender #avatar imagine #atla x you #atla imagine

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