#it also doesn’t help that all these pictures online are of peoples butts like that totally doesn’t make me uncomfortable or anything /s

[suchalonelysunflower]

A Different Kind of Night (h.s)

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Summary: Is the Grammys! And you’re spending it at home with your handsome nominee.

Warnings: Fluff. Mentions of alcohol, COVID, anxiety and a bit of smut if you squint your eyes. Also, maybe some grammatical mistakes (English is not my first language. I’m sorry)

Word Count: 2.6 k

Author’s Note: let me start by saying that 1) the Grammys are rigged and I don’t trust them. 2) I haven’t seen the Grammys in years so I don’t know exactly how the awards go and 3) While this is a piece of fiction, I love Harry and I hope he brings home one golden record player 💕 Remember that Reblogs, Comments, Feedbacks and Likes are very important! You don’t know how much it helps me ❤️ Happy early Valentine’s Day. Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🦋🌻✨

My materialist // wanna be part of my tag list?

“Harry, did you get the drinks?” You asked as you walked down the stairs.

“Go’em ready in the living room, love” Your boyfriend's answer came from the kitchen, his shoes clicking against the wooden floor as he made his way to where you were fixing your hair at the end of the stairs.

The moment he saw you, all dressed up and giddy, he let out a loud whistle. You felt your cheeks turn a tinted red as you felt his eyes checking you out up and down.

“Well look at you, pet,” He said with a grin as he walked towards you, rounding his arm on your waist and pulling you closer to him “You look stunning”

He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, making you giggle as his stubble tickled your skin.

“I wanted to look good tonight,” You said with a shy smile “Even if no one is going to see me”

Harry hummed close to your ear “Lucky me, then. Don’t have to worry about anyone stealing you away from me”

You scoffed “As if that were possible” With one last kiss on his cheek, you started to walk away. But not before Harry stole one small squeeze to your butt, making you gasp and shoot him a knowing glance as you turned into the kitchen, still able to hear him laugh.

You stepped into the kitchen and made sure the finger food you ordered was ready and placed in the tray. You wanted to make tonight extra special for him despite everything that was going on.

After pushing it back a few dates, the Grammys were finally happening tonight. Given the circumstances though, they were being held in an empty theatre while all the nominees stayed home and watched the ceremony.

Upon hearing the news, Harry was understandably a bit bummed out, but then he thought better of it “At least I’ll get to spend the evening with you” He said with a grin.

It was true. If it weren’t for the norms applied for the ceremony, you weren’t going to be able to celebrate with him. At least, not at that moment. That’s the downside of having a secret relationship.

You were used to it, though. Years of sneaking around and secret rendezvous made you an expert on the topic of privacy. It was something you both agreed on earlier on in the relationship, not wanting to attract the wrong kind of attention towards the two of you.

And yes, although that meant to have to deal with all the rumors of your boyfriend dating other celebrities and see him up and about in different galas where you had to maintain your distance until you were sure there were no peeking cameras, you wouldn’t change this for the world.

You loved Harry Styles as much as the next person did. But you much rather have Harry, just Harry all to yourself. And that made you one of the luckiest people on earth according to you.

“It’s weird to see the red carpet so empty,” You said as you walked into the living room holding the tray of food. Smiling at seeing Harry already seated comfortably with a glass of wine having already poured you a glass as well.

“Pfft. It’s boring anyway” He said, helping you set the food before you sat down with him, kicking your shoes under the table and cuddling next to him “You just walk, then stop to take some pictures, then talk to some random interviewer for a random channel, say you’re excited to be there and to be wearing Gucci and keep walking”

“Oh yeah, sounds dreadful” Sarcasm clear in your voice “I don’t know how you could survive that”

He grabbed a handful of popcorn and threw it your way, making you squeal before you retaliated with some salted peanuts, starting a small but very chaotic food fight among the two of you.

You were glad that it was only the two of you. While Harry’s manager offered to make a big celebration in his name for being nominated, he opted not to. Not only because he already received well-deserved repercussions for partying in the middle of a pandemic, but because this was a special moment for him and, even though he won’t admit it, he is scared of letting everyone down if he doesn’t get the win.

You, however, still wanted to make the night special for him. So you suggested you dress up for the red carpet- even if the only carpet you’d walk on is the one in the living room, get drunk and let whatever needs to happen: happen.

He loved the idea, although now he was starting to have second thoughts “‘m not gonna clean this” He said after taking into account the mess you both created.

Popcorn was scattered across the sofa and the rug, he had some pieces of peanuts tangled in his curls and on his suit. You didn’t want to look in the mirror to check how you ended up.

“Well, I wasn’t the one who started it,” You said, shrugging as you took a sip from your wine.

He crooked one eyebrow at you, ready to make his usual teasing comments known. But just as he opened his mouth, the opening number of the ceremony was starting.

The Grammys were broadcasted on tv, but all the nominees had a link where they should enter the moment their category is announced. Harry got it all set up in the living room, the computer and the camera ready to focus on him when needed. Yes, this was odd, everything was odd in these trying times. But you were glad they managed to pull through it and celebrate the artists like they deserve, even if it’s miles apart for their safety.

You enjoyed the first few numbers, chatting over your bets about who will win what category, yelling at the tv whenever your favorites didn’t receive the golden record player, and laughing at the bad jokes of the presenters.

When the pop categories came, however, the both of you were quiet as a mouse.

You knew Harry was nervous, you’ve never seen him fidgeting this much before. You gave him your hand to hold, to distract himself a little bit and for him to feel your unconditional support, and he squeezed it hard, placing a kiss on your knuckles and patting it softly with his other hand before covering it with it as his leg started moving up and down with a quick pace.

This side of him always surprised you. You were still amazed at how confident Harry was on stage and with people from the industry, yet when it was just the two of you, you could see the real him. The doubts, the second-guessing, the frustrations, the fears, and sadness of a real person. Not from the one that’s putting on a show to please strangers in a room. With you he allowed himself to feel, really feel like he couldn’t do outside the doors of your shared home. And you knew these nominations were eating him up from the inside with the anxiety it produced on him.

Harry was a perfectionist. He felt the weight of the world on his shoulders since he was sixteen, having the responsibility and burden to carry it without a word of complaint. He gave himself out on this album, showing parts of himself his fans would appreciate and accept. The pressure he had was unbearable and he still made it out of bed every morning, ready to give the world more than it could ever ask for.

You were proud of him, you always were and you told him time and time again, knowing he appreciated more than he could say. But sometimes you wished you could take him away for some time, letting him relax and breathe without constantly having to check himself if he did a wrong move or not. If he wins tonight, at least he will know it was all worth it.

The first two nominations were called. You could feel how hard he gripped your hand before he was asked to appear in front of the camera he set up in front of him. He tried to appear unbothered, but only you noticed the way his eyes gleamed with a shimmer of hope.

Harry waved at the camera and politely nodded whenever his name was being announced with his leg bouncing out of frame. But when the presenters called another name, he was the one clapping enthusiastically as his other colleagues received the acclaimed award. Never letting his true feelings show on his face.

You never asked if he was okay after he didn’t win, you knew he would say he is and brush it off like it was nothing. But you also knew that he needed your support at this moment and you gave it freely and lovingly. Cuddling next to him and soothing his hair as he let your hand run through his curls. It was the little moments, the details that let him know that he is loved. And he feels so lucky to be loved by you.

He told you time and time again and proved it to you thousand times more. But every time he said it, every time he showed it… it still brought butterflies to your entire being.

“Okay, love,” He said as soon as they cut through commercials for what it seemed like the tenth time “The album category is up next”

He said that with a serious face. You could tell that he was nervous, it was the most important award in the pop category; he had some strong contenders this year and was not at all convinced that he would win, especially given his other two losses.

You were about to say something, wanting nothing more than to comfort him and shake that mental frown away. But a notification rang on the computer, letting him know that it was time to get online and let people see him as he waited to be called.

He looked at you and smiled, letting you know that he was okay. “It’s just a stupid award,” He said, but you knew it meant more than that.

You smiled understandingly back at him and kissed him on the cheek before getting up to stand in front of the tv but behind the camera as you did in his previous nominations of the night, making it seem like he was alone.

“You got this” You mouthed at him from where you were standing, sending him an encouraging smile and two thumbs up. He replied with a wink and his award-winning smirk as the announcer called his name among the nominees.

Harry waved at the camera and you can already see his name trending on Twitter right now, it’s been too long since his fans have seen him up close and he knew very well what he was doing. That smug bastard.

While the presenter was calling the other nominees, your phone rang. You quickly grabbed it from the table and thanked the gods’ Harry’s vídeo was muted for the time being.

“Hello?” You said quietly, not really paying attention at the name of the caller before you picked up.

Harry had his eyes on the camera, but he furrowed his eyebrows to let you know that he was just as curious as you to know who was calling at this time and at this moment.

“You need to open the door, now!” It was Jeff’s voice. He sounded frantic as he hung up immediately after.

You stood there confused for a second before realizing what was happening.

“And the winner for best pop vocal album is…. Harry Styles’ Fine Line!”

Harry’s eyes widened as he heard his name being called as the winner. He started looking around for you, but you were now gone from your spot only to return seconds later with a golden record player in your hands and tearful eyes.

You were now standing at his side, face away from the camera as the viewers could only see your arms extending the award towards Harry, who had the most beautiful and genuine smile you’ve ever seen.

He took the award and threw it on the sofa next to him, quickly standing enough to reach your face and giving you a one in a lifetime kiss. Not caring that he was on national television at the moment. He was happy.

You felt how his hands cupped your cheek softly as his lips melted with yours. It tasted salty and you didn’t know if it was because of the popcorn or the happy tears on both your eyes. You only knew that this was one of the greatest moments of his life and you were lucky enough to witness it with him.

Soon, Harry had to let go of you, smiling widely at you and mouthing an “I love you” as he sat back down to start his speech. You quickly went back to your place behind the camera and smiled at him with utter pride.

You knew how much he worked for this, to separate himself from the kid he once was and to start his own career by just being Harry. And to see him smile like that… Harry only smiled like that when he was with you. His childlike grin and sparkle in his eyes brought life to your shared home as he held the award close to his heart, finally grasping the idea that that little boy from Cheshire made it.

He made it.

“... I want to thank my mum and my sister, who were always there for me. To the fans that made this record so special and have gifted me with their enormous support. And I want to thank the person I love most in this life” He said, lifting his gaze to meet your teary eyes. He smiled like a thousand suns and gave you a look that was just exuberant with love before placing his eyes back on the camera. “I love you and I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you so much for this”

You waited a good five seconds after his transmission ended before jumping at him on the sofa, wrapping your arms around him as you plastered kisses all over his face.

“I told you you were going to win!” You said excitedly.

He laughed and kiss your lips with passion “You did” He said between kisses “And I didn’t believe you” one more kiss “If this is not a sign for me to admit that you’re always right, I don’t know what it is”

You smiled before kissing him again, this time with more intent as you let him deepen the kiss, parting your lips as you granted him more access.

Harry grabbed you by the legs and made you straddle his lap, not breaking the kiss once as his hands roamed your back with soft touches.

“You know…” You said, letting out a sigh as his mouth traveled from your lips to your neck “You just kissed me in front of a camera”

He hummed, sending vibrations all over your pulse point “That I did”

“It’s going to be all over Twitter tomorrow”

“I don’t much care right now,” He said, placing his hands on your ass, making your hips slightly buckle against his front as he continued to ravish your neck and collarbones, leaving a trail of marks and soft breaths to follow later.

You chuckled, tangling your fingers through his hair, tugging it lightly so his eyes were on yours once again “Harry, you just won a Grammy!”

“That I did, too” He smirked, pure joy visible in his eyes.

“And how would you want to celebrate? My Grammy award winning boyfriend” You said, moving your hips with more intent and making him let out a groan.

Harry’s pupils grew and turned his eyes into a deep forest green, looking at you hungrily while he grinned “I got a couple of ideas”

*

Tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @mystic-232 @talksoprettyjjx @theshyspy @sarcasticallywitty15 @hoodhoran @flaneurcth @notinthesameguey @bubblegum18 @irwin-fletcher-ash @multistann @tenaciousperfectionunknown @sunflowercherry

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #suchalonelysunflower #harry fanfic #harry fic #harry fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry 1d #fine line #harry styles writing #harry styles love #harry one shot #fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles one direction #one direction imagine #hs: dwd #hs: fine line #harry edward styles #hs #harry pic #a different kind of night #fluff #smut #harry styles angst #harry smut

[howtolongfurb]

How to Long Furb

For whatever reason, furbies have taken over the internet. It’s beautiful and terrifying and I desperately want one. Original 1998 furbies are hard to acquire but that doesn’t mean you can’t make one of your own. Imagine the potential for neck pillows with long furbies! I’m going to walk you through step-by-step how I acquired the supplies and compiled these monstrosities. Note, this is not by any means a comprehensive guide, just my personal experience. I am an ameteur. There is a huge community of furby fans online with tips and tricks on executing a variety of furby modifications. Read more below!

I will start off by saying there were many points throughout this whole process where I got frustrated and set the project aside for weeks at a time. I initially started hand-sewing long furbs but was disappointed with the poor craftsmanship. That’s when I impulse bought a cheap Singer over the 2020 holidays and retaught myself how to use the machine. The point I want to make here is to persevere. Every furby is beautiful! Crooked faceplates and chunky bellies just give a furby more personality. They say practice makes perfect, right? So let’s get started. The main components of a furby are:

1) The faceplate: unless you can get your hands on an original furby, finding a faceplate for your project can be tricky. There are a variety of people online selling furby faceplates. You can also 3D print faceplates using files from thingiverse. I’ve even seen faceplates pressed in resin. My favorite faceplate is from MrDsPrintedCreations on Etsy. The iris of the eyes are recessed so you can easily insert glass eye chips. The first thing I do with my faceplate is glue a piece of fabric behind it so it’s easier to sew into the head. I paint my faceplate with acrylic craft paint and top it off with a clear gloss coat. 2) The spine: for a poseable long furb, there needs to be a flexible inner piece. I thought thin wire from Menards would do the job, but once it’s in the plush it doesn’t hold it’s shape. I found plastic doll armature works well as a spine. It even creaks when bent for that extra spritz of cursed, spooky energy! You can also use a flexible coolant hose as a spine. I’ve ordered doll armature online from CR’s Crafts: the 1/8th and 1/4th size works well. The 1/2th inch armature is hard to stuff around. 3) Fabric! Fur and belly piece: In order to make furbs, I knew I first needed a sewing pattern. Tumblr user Cavity Sam created a template based on the 1998 furby and I used this to make my first furb with my new machine and scrap fabric lying around. My friend Gunnar 3D printed a rudimentary faceplate to use. After using Cavity Sam’s sewing template, I modified the pattern to use for long furbs specifically. You can download that sewing pattern here.

You’ll need the following supplies per one 3-foot long furby:

quarter of a yard faux fur fabric (9 inches x 44 inches)

patterned fabric for belly, ears, feet (~3 inches x 44 inches)

sewing machine (thread, needle, scissors, pins)

faceplate, 14mm eye chips, eyelashes

E600 glue, scrap fabric

paint (acrylic or nail polish), paintbrushes, clear top coat

spine (plastic doll armature)

cotton stuffing (I cut open cheap pillows from Walmart)

Step one: Use the sewing pattern to cut fabric pieces for the head and body. When cutting on fur, make sure to trace the pattern on the flat backside of the fabric with the fur flattened in the right direction. For example, the hair on the Y-mane piece (back of the head) should be pointed downwards. I made notes on the paper pattern pieces where you can eyeball more or less space. The mane piece should have more rounded corners, for example. I made my furbies 3 feet long, so the front belly piece was 2 inches wide by 3 feet long. The back fur was 6.5 inches wide by 3 feet long.

Step two, feet and ears: Depending on how small you cut your fabric, it can be really hard to combine two separate pieces. For the feet I folded a piece of fabric in half and sewed the C-shapes before cutting them out. Using tweezers made it much easier to turn them back right-side-out. After cutting the ear pieces (making sure the hair on the fur was pointed in the right direction, inside out) I pinned them together before sewing. Turn back right-side-out. 

Step three, head: Line the pattern pieces up so the Y-mane is in the middle. Sew the sides of the head to the mane first. Once that is one solid piece, fold it in half to sew the top curve of the head. I have pinned these pieces to ensure they don’t slip when going through the machine. Slow and steady wins the race; make sure to turn the fabric as you’re curving the top of the head. Finally you can sew the piece under the ear together, leaving a gap for the ear to go in.

Step four, ears: Everything up to this point has been done on the machine. I haven’t figured out a way to attach the ears with the machine, so this step was done by hand. With the ear facing right side out, pin the ear to the inside-out head. Make sure the patterned part of the ear is facing outwards (where the faceplate goes). By hand, sew the ear to the hole in the head. After the ear is secured, turn the head right side out and voila!

Step five, body: Lining up these pieces is important and a little tricky. You’ll want some excess belly fabric on the top to merge with the bottom of the beak on the faceplate. See the diagram; rotate everything 180 degrees to begin sewing. The fur hair needs to be pointed upwards and the belly fabric pattern is facing down on top of that. After sewing the belly fabric to the fur, fold it over to sew the other side. The fur should be on the inside of the sausage/ body piece. Once you’re finished sewing, the finished piece needs to be turned fur side out.

Step six: Faceplate break time! This step can be done at any point in the process, up until you hand sew the faceplate into the head. To start, glue a piece of fabric behind the faceplate. The faceplate itself should just be the eyes and the beak, making it easier to sew into the head of the furb. You don’t need that extra plastic around the bottom of the beak (or at least I haven’t figured out how to sew that in convincingly). I used grey scrap fabric and E6000 glue to adhere the faceplate. Then you need to paint the faceplates. In earlier furbs I used acrylic paint topped with clear DecoArt gloss varnish on top. You can also use colored nail polish with a clear coat on top. In the pictured furbs I tried sealing the faceplates with mod podge but it dried tacky/ uneven. Optional: you can accessorize your furb with jewelry!

Step seven, inserting the faceplate: You need to sew this part into the head by hand as well. Start from the top center (head inside out, faceplate facing into head) and work your way down the right. Make sure to use a thicker needle and poke the needle through as close as you can get to the faceplate to ensure the fabric fur is flush to the face. The needle may be stubborn (poking through the hardened glue) so use a thimble or bottle cap to help push the needle. When you get to the bottom corner of the eye, the fabric may not line up perfectly. Use excess fabric to sew a seam, effectively acting like a cheek. This part takes a little finessing. Finish attaching the fur fabric one third of the way down the beak. This is where the belly piece will connect to. The final step (later) will be to put the eye + glass chip in. 

Step eight, attaching the head to body: I was able to use the machine for this part. Turning the head inside out, pin the head to the outside of the back fur. The head and back should line up so a gap is left for connecting the patterned belly to the bottom of the beak (that step comes later). After the head is connected to the back, I do a second pass to make sure there isn’t any gap in the seam. When turned right side out, you’ll see that excess patterned belly spills out the top. Keep the furb inside out to connect under the beak. 

Step nine, connecting the belly to the beak: On the excess patterned fabric sticking out the top of the body, trace the shape of the “M” to cut out. See the highlighted yellow portion in the picture, as well as the printed sewing pattern piece. The piece directly below the beak needs to be done by hand. If you can manage it, you can sew a diagonal line with your machine before trimming the patterned belly. I found it easiest to start from the right and work my way to the left. The acute angle under the cheek will need finessing, but with small and tight enough stitches the end result is good. Turn the furb inside out to see your long sausage of a creation!

Step ten, spine insertion and stuffing: Now THIS is where I may have messed up (i.e. got frustrated multiple times) and need feedback from the furby community. The furby is essentially complete, it just needs the butt and feet attached to seal it off. Because of this long sausage of a furb, it was hard to push stuffing all the way up into the head/ ears, even using a yard stick. Maybe if I printed my original sewing pattern at 115% or 130% size, the completed project wouldn’t have been so narrow. (The ears are a perfect size now that I think about it, so maybe just the head pieces need to be bigger.) This resizing would make for a larger in diameter, plushier furby too. I thought I could insert the spine after stuffing, but the opposite is true. Insert your wire or doll armature after the ears and head are stuffed but before you begin stuffing below the beak. Alternatively, you can fasten the top of the spine behind the faceplate before stuffing. I taped a cup to the end of a yard stick and that helped push handfuls of stuffing into the furb at a time. Leave 2 to 4 inches of the bottom unstuffed so it’s easier to sew on the bottom circle. We will leave a small gap for the rest to be stuffed before totally sealing it off. 

Step eleven, connecting the feet and bottom: Stuff the feet and seal them off with a couple stitches. Don’t stuff the feet completely full, the top seam should lay flat. Place the two feet on the bottom of the belly, pointing upwards. Sew the feet onto the belly in a straight line. Now comes the part that takes more finessing, the bottom. When you line up the bottom circle, make sure the hairs of the fabric are pointed backwards. If you can manage it with the machine, sew the bottom circle to the bottom of your furby where the feet connect to the belly, about a third of the way around the full circle. The fur of the circle should be facing down, touching the belly of the furb. Once you’ve attached the circle to the feet, you can fold the circle back to see the butt starting to take shape! You can give it another pass on the machine, sewing the opposite side/ flip the furby so you can see the backside of the belly. Leave enough room to stuff the rest of the cotton and close the gap by hand sewing. Now that your furby is essentially complete, you can add the finishing touches! I always leave the eye chips for last so I don’t scratch them in the process of turning my furb inside out. You can print or paint the eye designs to place behind the glass chip. Use clear glue like superglue or E600 for the best results. Gluing eyelashes on with superglue is an optional last step.

Aaaaaaand the furbies are done! Again, I’m an ameteur sewer who’s learning as I go. I’m always open to suggestions and feedback; if there’s a way to revise this process to make more efficient and better quality furbs, I’d love to know. Thanks yall and enjoy making these cursed friends!

#furby #long furby #long furb #furby community #furby sewing pattern #sewing guide

[lils-writes-stuff]

Where it all started

Best years part one| part two

Spencer Reid x reader

Summary: while on a case, a little to close to home, reader and Spencer discover some feeling that they’ve developed for each other over time.

Warnings: normal criminal minds things, kinda slow build up ngl.

A/n: this takes place after the whole Doyle thing, so it’s the dream team all together.

   “No I mean all I’m saying is if you are too play online scrabble you have to know that the other person is probably cheating.”

   The laughter that rang from Emily’s mouth also made Y/N chuckle after the statement she made. The two sat in the bullpen, Emily in her swivel chair, Y/N perched on the end of her desk, ankles crossed and coffee mug in hand.

   The sound of phones ringing and people chatting created a white noise scenario in Y/N’s ears. The sound was interrupted though by the clicking of heels from Penelope Garcia, as she came walking into the room. File in hand, ready to deliver it to Hotch.

   “Ah- come on people, I had a weekend planned!” Emily said, slightly disappointed as she saw Garcia walk into Hotch’s office.  Derek chuckled, shaking his head slightly.

   “And what were those plans?” Derek asks the smug look on his face, telling those around that he was ready to crack a joke for any scenario that followed after her answer.

   “Me, wine, and a hot tube,” Emily replied with a sigh as she leaned into the back of her chair. Derek just laughed as he turned back to his mug of fresh coffee sitting on Spencer’s desk.

   “I hope we have a case, I didn’t have plans,” Spencer’s voice is monotone almost. He doesn’t even look up from his book while he speaks. At this, a slight giggle leaves Y/N’s lips.

   “Me neither Spence, me neither.” Y/N says as she pushes herself off of Emily’s desk, tapping Spencer's shoulder on the way back to her own desk and sitting in her chair.

   “This is 29-year-old Dillon Goodman, he was found in a ditch in the North Georgia region, stab wounds to the stomach and upper chest region,” Penelope spoke as the picture of the victim appeared on the screen. Pictures from the crime scene soon followed the driver’s license photo.

   “He’s laid out like a burial, shows remorse.” Y/N spoke as she looked more closely at the pictures in her hand. The victim looked familiar to her, yet she couldn’t place it.

   “North Georgia, Y/N isn’t that your stomping grounds?” Rossi spoke, looking at Y/N with furrowed brows.

   “That it is,” she spoke, eyes still trained at the victim who she could still not place as to how she knew.

   “Atlanta P.D. has this case because two days ago another body was found in Fulton county, same M.O., also laid out the same,” Hotch said as Penelope pulled another picture up of the first victim.

   “Any I.D. on this one?” Derek asked. Penelope shook her head as a response.

   “So this guy shows remorse for his dead victims but the overkill is extreme,” JJ spoke as she looked at the rest of the team.

   “The burial like the placement of the bodies looks like those that  Vikings did, they were known as Norse funerals, but they were placed in ships as their burial,” Spencer spoke, as he looked at the victim’s photos more.

   “We’ll have more time to discuss this on the plane if he keeps up his two-day cycle, we only have that to catch him before he kills another, wheels up in 30,” Hotch said as he stood up, signaling everyone to get their go bags and depart.

————

   The plane ride wasn’t long but it was enough to give the team time to discuss theories as to why someone with such overkill in the process of killing and so much remorse after.

   Y/N looked intently at the license photo of the second victim Dillon. It was on the tip of her  tongue as to how she knew him but she couldn’t figure it out.

   “Y/N, the look on your face is hurting me, what’re you thinking?” Rossi asked as he broke her out of her stare.

   Y/N looked up, a slight hum sound leaving her throat. “Sorry, it’s just-this victim, Dillon, he looks so familiar, and I can’t place it and it’s really bothering me.” She spoke, slight irritation evident in her voice.

   “I might be able to answer that for you,” Garcia’s voice was heard through the speaker of the laptop placed on the table, everyone’s attention now focused there. “Dillon Goodman, born December 19, 1982, in Cleveland, Tennessee moved to Georgia when he was ten, and went to our beloved Y/N’s high school and were actually in the same graduating class together.”

   “Oh my god, that’s right I remember him now!” Y/N said as the memory of the boy came to her mind.

   “Does anything you remember help us with this case, any enemies, stuff like that?” Hotch asked looking at Y/N.

   “No he was a good kid, didn’t make good grades, but he was nice. Didn’t have problems with anyone really, to my knowledge at least.”

   “Garcia, is there any I.D. on the first victim yet?” Spencer asked.

   “Yes, a 31-year-old Tyler Moore, also from the North Georgia region,” Garcia said as she continued to type on her computer. “Oh my- he also graduated from Y/N’s high school too.”

   “Same class?” Emily asked.

   “No, he graduated two years before Y/N and Dillon,” Garcia replied looking at the date in her screen

   Everyone’s eyebrows furrowed.

   “Well there’s the common denominator for all our victims, they all went to the same high school,” Emily said.

   “So someone must’ve had a grudge against these two, maybe they were apart of a group our unsub wanted to be part of,” Derek said. “That would explain the remorse, he wanted to be apart of their lives.”

   “Cliques would cause something like this, high school is when we develop who we are the most,” Spencer said looking at everyone. “If this unsub was rejected from this group, it probably formed some deep aggression in him that caused him to lash out.”

   “So these probably weren’t his first victims,” JJ said.

   “Probably,” Hotch agreed. “When we land, Rossi and Morgan go to the first crime scene, Y/N and Reid to the newest, the rest of us will set up point at the station.”

————

   “So, did you know our first victim too?” Spencer asked Y/N as they drove to the latest crime scene. Y/N looked over for a second, glancing him before turning her attention back to the road.

   While the rest of the team had been together for a while, she had only been there for a year. She joined a little while before Emily’s ‘death’, it hit her just as hard as the rest of the team. She was relatively new out of the Academy, but every unit wanted her. She had the scores, a good shot, and when she was given team experience she was a huge help. Strauss said to Hotch when she told him that Y/N was joining their team, it was the best decision she could make for them.

   “I think so, I remember the name, he was a football player, wasn’t as good as a kid as Dillon though,” she said eyes trained in the road as she drove. “He got in trouble for bullying a lot.”

   Spencer nodded, “Were you a part of any clubs or groups that had these guys in them?” He continued with his questions to her.

   Spencer looked over, the side profile of Y/N’s face captivating him for a second before he looked away back at the file.

   “I-I wasn’t really a club person, I played sports. And when I didn’t play sports, I was working,” Y/N spoke as she reminisced on her high school experience. Never the star, but her name was known. A good group of friends, slight teasing from guys for her looks, but nothing serious.

   “Turn left, and we’ll be there,” Spencer’s instructions pulled her from her memories.

   They pulled up to the sight of the crime scene. A ditch beside the lake that Y/N grew up swimming in. Local police were there waiting for the two as they exited the SUV.

   “Detective Callaghan?” Y/N asked the man in front of her.

   “Yes ma’am,” the detective responded.

   “Hi, SSA Y/N Y/L/N,” she said shaking his hand then pointed next to her. “This is Dr. Spencer Reid.” Spencer stuck his hand up in a wave.

   “Thanks for coming out, let me show you to the dumpsite.” The detective led the two of them over about 30 yards to where the body was discovered. “A couple of fishermen called it in early this morning.”

   Spencer squatted down to look closer to the victim that was still on the ground. “The overkill is extreme,” he spoke inspecting the stab wounds of the victim.

   The two talked to the detective some more and looked at the body trying to figure out some more ideas as to how this unsub thinks. The ME came and took the body away and Y/N and Spencer we’re back in the SUV on their way to the station.

   “You know, I pegged you more of a mean girl in high school,” Spencer said as Y/N began to drive.

   Y/N laughed as she looked at Spencer for a second who also had a smile on his face. “Why do you say that?”

   “Well, you have a very dominant personality, and taking into account with how you are very pretty,” he said, blushing slightly at his statement before clearing his throat to finish his thought. “I just would have pegged you to be a mean girl.”

   “I was definitely not a mean girl,” Y/N said, her head shaking at the statement. “I wasn’t always very assertive and pretty.” She stated matter-of-factly.

   “Really?”

   “Really! I was a follower. I played sports, but I was never a star. I was good, but I wasn’t the best.” She explained, “I wasn’t pretty either, well pretty for the standards of the boys around me.”

   I would have thought you were beautiful, was Spencer’s thought.

   “What were you like I’m high school?”

   “I was twelve, so my name was known, but as the butt of the joke,” he spoke remembering his high school experience.

   Y/N giggled, remembering how she was younger than all of her classmates since she skipped a grade.

————

   Morgan, JJ, Spencer, and Y/N sat around a large conference table, coffee cups and food containers filling in the spaces that didn’t have open files. It had been a day since they arrived meaning the time they had left in the cool off period was coming to an end.

   “Okay, so this unsub is killing those who we are assuming were apart of some group?” JJ asked as she took another sip from her coffee cup next to her.

   “Well, actually I can confirm they were apart of a group. A clique if you will, one that went of for years and years after one group graduated,” Penelope said over Derek’s phone. “A group that called themselves the ‘wolves’. Were these boys, and an occasional girl, would go and harass older couples and vandalize their homes.”

   “So these guys weren’t all that good of kids like Y/N said,” Derek spoke. Y/N leaned back, tracing her memory to think if she had ever heard them speak of this group before. 

   “This must have not been talked about a lot in front of me cause I do not remember this,” Y/N spoke as she looked at her tablet in front of her, an article of the group sent from Penelope on the screen. 

   She looked at the photo of the group of mostly boys, gazing over the stoic faces in the picture. One stuck out though, the boy in the photo couldn’t be older than 15, his eyes still and his face just seemed off to her. 

   “Penelope, what can you tell me about Alex Wright?” Y/N asked as she looked at the boy’s name in the bio below the photo. 

   “Alex Wright, 15 at the time the photo was taken, a Sophomore, he didn’t seem to do much, raised by his single mom, didn’t play sports, he was a loner,” She explained as she typed on her computer. 

   “He fits the profile you think it’s him Y/N?” JJ asked her as she looked at the boy in the photo also. 

   Y/N shook her head, “No, but I think he might be the key to finding out who is.” She explained her thoughts. 

   “Why do you say that?” Spencer asked her, a questioning look on his face as he looked at her. 

   “Look at his eyes in the photo,” she said pointing at him. 

   “He looks scared,” Derek said as he examined the boy in the photo.

   “Almost like he’s there against his will,” Spencer said agreeing with what he was saying. “Guys, what if he is our unsub? What if he is getting back at all those in the group who made him do those things.” 

   “That would explain the overkill,” JJ said adding in her input into theory. 

   “And also the remorse, he probably considered them as friends,” Spencer continued on his theory. Everyone continued on the thought and soon came to the conclusion that Alex Wright was more than likely the unsub. 

   “Garcia-” Y/N started but was cut off. 

   “Addresses already sent,” she said knowing the answer to the upcoming question. 

   “You’re the best Baby Girl,” Derek said before hanging up. 

   They gathered with the rest of the team and told them their theory. Hotch got everyone together and they all loaded up into the cars. Vests on ready to go as they came to a halt at the front of the house. 

   “Rossi, JJ, and Morgan you guys go round back, the rest of us will take the front,” Hotch instructed and they all followed and got into position. 

   Spencer, Y/N, Hotch, and Emily all went up front and readied to open the door. 

   “Alex Wright, FBI,” Hotch said with a loud voice. A loud crash was heard and within seconds the door was open and the four of them moved in. 

   Alex stood, knife to the throat of his next victim who was tied to a table. 

   “Get back, leave!” He screamed at the four. 

   “We can’t do that Alex,” Y/N spoke, gun pointed ready to shoot. 

   “Y/N, it’s good to see you,” Alex spoke a small smirk on his face. Y/N turned her head to the side, questioning what he just spoke. 

   “I’m sorry, do I know you,” she said a puzzling tone in her voice. 

    Alex scoffed and stood up straight, pointing the knife in his hand at Y/N. “Of course you don’t, no one remembers me, the loner, the outcast. So stereotypical, if it wasn’t for me that school wouldn’t have been what it was. The wolves would have killed all of you, but I convinced them not to, of course, no one believed me when I told them though. Because all those boys were so good and loved. Well, news flash, they were rotten. So they all must pay.” He finished his speech, ready to stab his next victim, but he stopped and looked up at Y/N. “You know they always spoke highly of you like you were their queen or something so maybe I should just kill you,” and at that he launched himself at Y/N ready to stab her. 

   Gunshot. 

   The smoke from Spencer’s gun went off as he shot Alex in the arm before he got any closer to them. The other three looked at him, before going over and cuffing the man. 

----------

   The team sat together around a table wine glasses in front of them and plates of food smelling oh-so-delightful. Celebrating the win from this case, Rossi stated that Y/N take them to a restaurant she spoke of loving when she grew up, his treat of course. The team laughed as they discussed stories from their own high school experiences, telling of memorable moments and embarrassing stories.

   “Y/N, do you know why Alex said they treated you like their queen?” Emily asked with a laugh at the statement that was made by the unsub.

   “Oh-uh, well I think I figured it out, I looked at the photo again and I remember there was a boy in high school, that had a huge crush on me, he- I’m assuming- was the ring leader of this whole clique,” she said with a giggle. Everyone laughed at this and continued with a conversation about high school. 

   Y/N glanced across the table at Spencer, who also glanced at her. The eye contact made gave Spencer a slight blush on his face and made Y/N giggle slightly. 

   Grow a pair Y/N, she thought to herself, invite him to dinner or something this light flirting thing can’t last forever. 

   Emily nudged Derek beside her, everyone else distracted with a story Rossi was telling. 

   “When will those two realize that they are in love with each other?” Emily asked the man beside her. 

   He chuckled, “When Pretty Boy realizes that, she might as well be throwing herself at him.” The two giggled at the statement. 

   Y/N looked at Spencer once more, a small smile laid on her lips as she watched him laugh at the story that was being told. The little butterflies in her stomach erupted as she watched him. She looked away before he could notice and listened to the ongoing story. 

   As Y/N looked away, Spencer looked at her. He watched her smile and her eyes light up. 

She’s beautiful

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #derek morgan imagine #Emily Printiss

[vivithefolle]

Hi Vivi, can you share some thoughts on the "Hermione deserves to be/should have married to XYZ because she is way too good for Ron" mentality of this fandom??

I’m gonna copy-paste a Quora answer of mine, because recycling is important!

Claiming that Ron is “out of Hermione’s league” is a statement rooted in sexism, classism and probably a bunch of other -isms.

It might seem like I’m just throwing buzz-words around but let me explain.

First off, the sexism.

Oh, the sexism.

As I’ve pointed it out in yet another one of my answers  (I’m so sorry for drowning you all in a plethora of links), Ron is very much a female-coded male character.

Ron is emotional, wears his heart on his sleeve, has anxieties and inadequacies, walks off in order to cool down, has a temper, puts other people before his needs, and pretty much adopts Harry when he rescues him in the second book. He’s the Heart of the Trio: he doesn’t rely on sole logic, he can believe something without proof, he is sensitive and thus is the easiest to hurt emotionally.

Whether you call it a “beta male”, a “wuss”, “defying gender roles” or a “soft boy” is your own business, but the core of it is that Ron doesn’t meet the standards for people’s vision of a “desirable” masculine figure.

The little things Ron quietly performs in the books - when he helps Harry into his pyjamas in Chamber of Secrets because Harry’s arm is bloop; when he’s worrying about Hermione’s whereabouts in Prisoner of Azkaban; when he helps Harry unwind after his visions in Goblet of Fire; when he puts food onto Harry’s plate and wakes him up from his nightmares in Order of the Phoenix; when he beams that Hermione was “perfect, obviously” when she passes her Apparition test - all those caring gestures don’t seem like much, but if you bother to think about it, they paint an enormous picture.

Who gets Hermione to stop overworking while making her feel good about her accomplishments? Who comforts Harry from his nightmares and cares for him in the dead of the night, when nobody is awake? Who makes sure his friends are healthy and happy? Who wards off the dark and depressing thoughts, be it with his fists or a joke?

It’s Ron.

When you think about it, “traditional masculinity” in Harry Potter is as much frowned upon as “traditional feminity” is - which sometimes bites Rowling in the butt when you remember how she obviously seems to consider that Hermione and Ginny are the only desirable kind of girls.

Vernon Dursley? The entrepreneur “king of the household” prejudiced suburbian middle-class Dad? Fits in the usual tropes of traditional masculinity.

Dudley Dursley? The typical “boys will be boys” spoiled middle-class only child who’s the apple of his parents’ eyes and even takes up boxing, as if he wasn’t traditionally masculine enough.

Draco Malfoy? See Dudley, but toss in “upper-class posh aristocrat bully who doesn’t like to get his hands dirty so he has henchmen do it for him because he’s too rich for this sh-t”, would remind you of a few Christian Greys or Gatsbys.

Dolores Umbridge? Oh no, cat pictures, decorative plates, talks to teens as if they’re babies and PINK, SO MUCH PINK!!! So disgustingly feminine!!

Rowling very much frowns upon traditional gender roles - with Molly Weasley being an exception because Rowling feels very strongly about being a mother, and relates to Molly a lot.

Right - so, being a beautiful mess of paradoxes and contradictions (a “soft boi” who also punches bullies in the face, a fussy mother-hen who swears like a sailor, a tall athlete with badass scars on his arms who’s nurturing and sweet; in short, a wonderfully human character), Ron is obviously going to be a polarizing character. You painfully relate to him and get defensive when he’s criticized, you feel his characterization hits a bit too close to home so you hate him, or you disregard him completely because you can’t see anything “special” about him…

Now, onto another very, very sexist point that is often made.

People say that Hermione “deserves better” than Ron, often claiming that they “aren’t intellectual equals”, then citing Harry (who is mistaken as being some sort of slumbering genius but honestly, the kid is really a bit daft) or Draco (since apparently, being rich must equal to being intelligent) or, god forbid, Snape (because he’s a teacher and teachers are meant to be clever).

Soooo, I could go the loooooong way and pull out all the receipts that prove that none of these characters are perfectly intellectually matched to Hermione…

Or I could go the long way and simply give you this: this obsession with finding an “intellectual equal” for Hermione reflects the mentality of “women are not allowed to be better at something than their husband”.

Yep.

A woman has to be all-around pretty good at everything, whereas a man has to be the absolute best in his area of greatest competence (surely better than any puny female!) with a help-meet there to compensate for his weaknesses. People are very, very uncomfortable when Ron and Hermione reverse this dynamic. Hermione is extremely intelligent and dedicated to intellectual pursuits, but is complete pants at things like self-care and people skills. Ron is bright enough to keep up with her and strong in her areas of weakness.

Even if Ron was as dumb as a sack of rocks (he’s not), his other virtues are more than enough to “justify” Hermione loving him. (Because she needs an excuse?) But no. A woman has to be with a man who outdoes her in her area of greatest strength. - credit to @lytefoot

People don’t want Hermione to be with a man who’s her “equal.” They want her to be with a man who can be The Man so she can know the contentment of being The Woman.

But, with this sexist line of thought, how do we justify how Ron is supposed to be such a bad match for Hermione? Because if it was just about mere sexism, Romione would surely be more popular. Imagine! Ron happily raising the children, being a house-husband and proud of it, while Hermione is out there fighting for justice in the wizarding world! What a power-couple, defying norms and gender roles and not being the least bit conscious of it, prime OTP material for sure! So why do people still want Hermione to put Harry, Draco, or god forbid², Snape in Ron’s place? Is this an irrational hatred of redheads? An Harmionian’s delirious wet dream? A failure to separate the actors from their characters?

It’s all this and, quite frankly, something more: the inherent classism that comes with Ron’s status as an explicitly working-class coded character.

I know, I know, “Vivian! Calm down with the buzzwords, you’re starting to sound like an online pretend-feminist magazine!”

Or “Come on, people who don’t ship Ron and Hermione together aren’t all sexist or classist!”

Of course, of course! I know that! I’m not implying that!

But some of the “reasons” why they claim that Ron and Hermione can’t work - are extremely classist in nature, that’s just it!

Come on, think about it! What are the Number Ones arguments people always pull against Ron? Or the most common Ron-bashing tropes (look at fanfics and watch the number of stories that use at least one of those)?

Ron is stupid/mediocre

Ron is lazy/useless

Ron resents his wife’s hard work/success

Ron is a homophobe

Ron is a drunkard

Ron (the big prude who at 16 had never kissed a girl and sees a first kiss as the prelude to a wedding) is massively oversexed and cheats on Hermione with anything that moves

Not only do these “reasons” completely ignore ALL OF RON’S CHARACTERIZATION - except for the “lazy” bit but come off it, all teenagers are lazy and Hermione’s the exception to the rule - but it matches perfectly with the negative stereotypes associated with working-class white men in fiction.

It’s also very funny to note how many (assumedly middle-class or financially secure) fans look down on Ron for being “whiny” or “greedy” when he expresses the desire to have money of his own, or blame his parents for “not knowing when to stop” or “being irresponsible”, or even look down on them for being “too proud to accept help”!! Also how shocked people are when Ron dares to stand up for himself when Hermione or Harry act badly towards him. How dare this country boy not listen to the wisdom of his social “betters”?

So, obviously, because our Heroine can’t go with a Nasty, Mediocre Working-Class Man, she must be paired off with someone of Proper Status: say, a Hero that was raised in a middle-class home and might be a bit psychologically damaged but it’s nothing all those gold coins in his vault can’t fix; or this Rich Posh Aristocrat who actively rooted for her death, he’s a little bit eccentric and has some exotic pet-names to call you, but I’m sure you’ll learn to love him and will unearth the gold coins in his bank account… I mean, the heart of gold that lies within the surface; oh, why not a Way Too Big An Age Difference Teacher if you’re looking for a “cultured man” who has zero things in common with you; we can also bring Convenient Plot Device Famous Rich Foreign Athlete if you want some diversity and you don’t feel original!

But we can’t - oh, we mustn’t let her be with this Terrible Working-Class Boy! His brothers are fine, they have money, they have jobs, so they’re obviously Not As Mediocre. But let our precious Hermione be with this Just-Got-Out-Of-School hooligan? She can’t possibly be in love with him! You’ll see darling, you’ll get bored eventually! He’s too mediocre for you, you deserve a man who outclasses you - I mean, who can provide for you! You’re a fragile little flower who scars people for life when she’s not happy with them, what makes you think that this boy can possibly handle you even though he’s done so for the past seven years?

You wanted it, you got it.

People are shallow, have misconceptions about Ron’s character that they are unwilling to correct or use classist and sexist arguments to try to make it so that either Ron is the Devil himself / Hermione is a higher kind of being that can only orgasm if sufficiently “intellectually stimulated” / what-have-you.

#vivi answers #ask #ron weasley #hermione granger #romione #ron weasley defense squad #ron weasley defence squad #sexism #classism #hp meta #fandumb #hp fandom

[spidercakes]

Have some type of AU where Peter and Tony have met online (although its never specified where), but when they choose to meet in person its a little um. Different, from the usual.

Warnings: (canon typical but Peter is 19) age difference, bondage, blindfolds, (sort of) anonymous sex, slightly under negotiated kink, 

*

Peter can’t believe he’s doing this, laying on a bed with his head and chest on the mattress and his ass up in the air. His hands aren’t tied down at the moment but he’s already managed to get the restraints on the bed so each cuff is sitting in the corner looking lonely. He might have gotten a little ahead of himself anyway if it were possible to cuff both his hands but also he doesn’t want to screw himself over if he has to like, go to the bathroom or something.

Or if he gets stood up, not that he wants to think of that at the moment. He doesn’t think Tony would anyway, there’s not a whole lot of reason to miss a booty call. He can’t help but be a little paranoid at the moment when he’s wearing nothing but a butt plug, a pink blindfold, and a pink collar. The cuffs are pink too, because he kind of has an obsession with the color. That’d been partially what started this whole thing, that and his taste in sex toys.

More accurately he has expensive taste in toys and a small wallet, not that he tells people that. But he’s managed to acquire a rather large collection over the last couple years with what he can spare here and there plus a few more expensive additions from Tony. Its not the kind of thing Peter would normally do but he’d indulged Tony too much pretty much right away and in his defense it paid off. It might have helped that the first thing Tony did was compliment the Batman poster he’d vandalized in the background of one of his pictures. He likes to think he’s funny and no one ever comments on the surroundings in his pictures, just his body, so it’d been something new.

That’s how Tony ended up seeing his collection, which is how he ended up adding to it, and how they ended up in regular communication. He shouldn’t be nervous after all the stuff he’s done with Tony anyway, but also none of that was in person. Its one thing filming yourself jerking off for someone and sending them a video, its another to actually sleep with them. But the difference makes Peter giddy as he waits.

It feels like forever but its probably only a couple minutes before Tony shows up, Peter had timed it like that on purpose because that’s what they talked about. Peter works not to wiggle in anticipation or nervousness as the door to the room opens and in theory it could be anybody. Its not lost on him, the danger he could be in but that’s all part of the fantasy. He’d always been a little ashamed of this fantasy of his, wanting to be used by a total stranger he’s never even met previous to the encounter, but Tony had reacted immediately well to it. Peter had warmed to him after that and when Tony sent what he’d do to him back Peter had gotten hard pretty fucking quick.

He’s hard now too, a little desperate to be touched but Tony hasn’t come closer yet. He can hear fabric sliding against fabric, presumably Tony taking his jacket off, but he doesn’t get much more than that at first. Once again he suppresses the urge to squirm around and he can’t tell if its some misguided pride or if its some desire to behave for Tony. Either way he manages to suppress the need to shift around uncomfortably in his spot as he listens for any kind of noise that’ll indicate what’s going on.

It takes a moment for the foot falls on the carpet but when Peter hears it he lets out a soft noise that thankfully goes unheard. Its not until a hand lands on his back that he jumps a little from the unexpected contact. “Okay?” a soft, deep voice asks. Peter recognizes it from the videos Tony has sent him and relaxes some.

“Yeah,” he says softly, shivering a little when Tony touches him again. He slides his hand down Peter’s back until he circles his hand around the back of Peter’s neck for a moment, pushing his head further into the mattress before letting go and sliding his hand back up Peter’s back and over his ass.

“Pretty little ass like that, you're begging to be fucked,” Tony murmurs, voice low and attractive. He gives Peter’s ass a sharp smack that makes him gasp slightly. He pulls away again but his touch reappears fast at his wrists. He lets Tony move his wrist the way he wants it, wrapping the cuff around it before closing it tightly. He can hear Tony walk around the bed as he makes his way to his other wrist, doing pretty much the same thing. He circles back, stopping in the middle of the bed before Peter feels the telltale feeling of someone crawling into bed. Tony feels at his ass when he reaches Peter, grabbing at his cheeks greedily as he spreads them apart.

When he lets go of Peter’s cheeks he starts toying with the plug and Peter moans softly and then a little louder as Tony pulls it out a little and back in. “That looks like a pretty big plug, baby,” Tony says. 

“I like to feel stretched out,” he admits, moaning as Tony pulls the plug out a little more this time before pushing it back in. Peter loves the feeling of being stretched out over the plug as Tony fucks him with it, moving it in and out of his hole quickly.

“Fuck, I bet you take cock real good,” Tony murmurs, running a hand up and down Peter’s ass. “Bet you’re still tight, too.”

“Fuck me and find out,” Peter tells him, getting antsy for it.

Tony laughs, pulling out the plug but leaving Peter empty long enough that he makes a disgruntled noise. “Shh, baby, I’ll take care of you,” he says, fingers swiping his hole a few times before he fucks his fingers into Peter. “Mmm, yeah you’re going to feel fucking amazing on my cock. You do this a lot, let strangers fuck your hole?” Tony asks.

He knows Peter has never done anything like this before, but he hasn’t filled Tony in on all the details of his sex life. Just the ones he thought Tony would find hot. He nods, “used to have a thing for hookup apps,” he says. Shortly after moving out of May’s he decided he liked his freedom and he liked that he had his own room with no risk of anyone walking in. He maybe abused that a little for awhile.

“So you’re a slut,” Tony states, not asks. Peter doesn’t expect the sharp feeling of arousal at that but his cock twitches anyway. “You like that, hmm? Being called a slut?” He nods because unexpected or not he likes the way it feels when Tony calls him that. Tony pulls his fingers out of Peter’s ass, “with a body like that I’m grateful you aren’t too picky about who fucks you.”

Peter moans, “please.” He’s not sure what he’s asking for but he knows he wants it bad.

“Desperate for it, aren’t you, baby?” Tony asks him, running a hand over his ass.

He nods, “please, Mr. Stark.” He knows Tony likes it, he’s pulled that on him before and it always goes well. This time it results in Tony leaning over his back and curling a hand around his neck, pinning him harshly to the bed as he grinds into Peter’s ass. His cock is hard and Peter moans just feeling it through what feels like dress pants.

Tony lets up for a moment, just long enough to unzip his pants and pull himself out Peter is hoping, but when he leans back in he gets his answer. Tony presses into him almost roughly, hand on Peter’s hip to steady himself as he fucks into him. Tony’s cock is thick and Peter moans as he feels himself stretch over it, and he can’t help the small noise of pleasure he lets out as he feels Tony throb inside him.

“That’s right, take my cock,” Tony tells him. “Pretty little slut, you’re going to love this,” he adds, fucking into Peter faster. Tony leans forward, pressing a hand into his back and pushing him into the mattress as he moans. “You feel fucking amazing,” Tony says, “so damn tight.”

Peter relaxes fully and lets Tony fuck him however he wants, taking what he needs from his hole. Tony fucks him fast and rough, clearly after his own pleasure and it makes Peter’s cock twitch, thinking about Tony fucking his hole for his own pleasure. He doesn’t mind when Tony fucks him harder, easing up on his back for a moment before Tony moves his hand into Peter’s hair. He grips the strands tight and Peter isn’t expecting the extra weight added to it as Tony forces his head further into the mattress but it results in him squirming.

“‘M’gunna cum,” he says, gasping harshly as Tony fucks him hard. “Oh my god I’m gunna cum!”

“Like being used like that, don’t you baby? Like knowing that your tight little hole makes my cock feel good?” Tony asks, sounding a little breathless. 

“Yes!” Peter says enthusiastically. “Yes please, m’so close Mr. Stark.”

Tony stammers in his rhythm and Peter makes a disgruntled noise. “Fuck, you’re a hot little tease, aren’t you? Keep that up and I’ll cum inside you,” Tony tells him, fingers in his hair tightening for a moment.

“Cum in me,” Peter tells him, “fuck, please Mr. Stark I need it please.”

Tony swears loudly and fucks into him faster, “that what you want baby, you want me to cum inside you?”

“Mr. Stark, please,” Peter says, voice almost whining but he can’t help it.

If Tony minds he doesn’t say anything, he just presses Peter’s head a little further into the mattress and fucks into him hard. “Gunna cum,” Tony tells him, “fuck, you’re good.”

Peter doesn’t expect to cum at that but he does, moaning loudly as his toes curl. He pants harshly, having a hard time catching his breath as Tony fucks into him. Tony cums too, fucking into him deep as he moans.

*

Peter is sitting in his desk chair spinning around aimlessly when his phone vibrates. He picks it up idly, spinning around in his chair again as he looks at who text him. He grins when he sees Tony’s name.

How are you doing baby?

He’d been worried that Tony would lose interest after their little encounter but he hasn’t. If anything he’s more interested than he was before. Peter bites his lip and texts back.

Would be better with you inside me ;)

#starker #tony stark x peter parker #alternate universe #ironspider #starker au #slutty peter parker

[hollowsart]

I would like to hear some headcanons for the galar gym leaders if that isn't too much to ask?

I'm so sorry this answer came so late, I was wracking my brain trying to think of things for all of them and was struggling.. I did consult with a friend of mine, though ( @rose-mountains ) and this is all we’ve managed to come up with!

I hope this is worth the long wait even if it’s not all the gym leaders and includes a little of the Champion, too:

For Kabu, meal prep Sunday is a big day in his apartment where he makes all of his meals for the week. They are all well-balanced and healthy. He doesn’t like to cook during the week because he’s usually exhausted by the time he comes home between training and battling at the gym. He takes relaxation and rest just as serious as he does working out, doing his best to make plenty of time for both.

Melony has a huge house that looks like an elegant log cabin and loves to host parties and fill it to the brim with people - she’s a great hostess and loves to cook. It is one of her love languages! But she also likes being spoiled by others.... a lot.

Opal was a star of the West End equivalent of Galar and gave it up to do the gym. However, she still gives acting and voice lessons, which she is happy about. It keeps her grounded to her true love - theatre! One year she sang the Galar anthem at the tournament. This was, of course, when she was younger before the vocal nodes hit.

Leon has a private Instagram and he comments on every single picture Hop has ever posted. Hop doesn’t mind, but does think commenting on every post is.. perhaps a little bit excessive, but Leon’s just happy and proud to support his little brother however he can!

Raihan has a youtube unboxing channel where fans send him presents and he unboxes them. Sometimes Raihan will communicate entirely in emojis. And despite his demeanor in battles how he comes off as online, he is actually a very sweet, gentle, and caring guy. He’s very deeply enthusiastic about his passions and cares a lot for his friends.

Piers acts like a big brother to Bea and Allister even if he doesn't exactly understand Bea, he enjoys her enthusiasm and kick-butt quality. he probably even wrote a song inspired by the two of them. Piers watches lo-fi study beats to help u study while he fixes dinner for him and Marnie after a looooong night. Piers is actually a decent cook for simple dishes out of bare necessity and taking care of Marnie. Very supportive and protective of Marnie, but will back off if asked by her personally.

Allister has crippling levels of anxiety, general and social, but he is doing his best to step outside his comfort zone now and again for his gym leader duties. He’s also a little socially inept as evident of his reactions and responses to people and things.

#pokemon #pokemon headcanon #pokemon headcanons #gym leader #pokemon swsh #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon champion #//long post

[forasecondtherewedwon]

The Stripping Point

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: E (explicit sexual content) Word count: 6387

Happy Birthday, @spiderman-homecomeme​!

Summary: Peter's ready to turn his new hobby into a profitable sideline. Unfortunately, he writes down his very first client's address incorrectly and shows up at the wrong house.

MJ opens the door to find some guy dressed as Spider-Man and decides the best way to mess with him is to let him stay. Almost immediately, she loses the upper hand.

Quarantine puts people out of work. A lotta people at first, then less, but never Peter. He keeps shooting for the Bugle, lugging his camera all over the city (instead of squeezing onto buses and subway cars that never really get that much less crowded) while he breathes heavily through his mask. He only takes pictures at outdoor spaces to try to avoid both crowds and loners who hassle him for taking preventative measures during the pandemic. They’re stressed, he gets that, but Peter doesn’t wanna be anywhere near conflict. Spider-Man, on the other hand… Well, when he puts on that mask, it’s pretty much business as usual. He appreciates his face covering more than ever and, hey, it’s cool to do a job with social distancing built in.

His gratitude for the web-slinging side-gig only increases as the weeks of pandemic life stretch into months and Jameson starts ordering him back into situations that are just plain stupid from a health perspective. Never mind that he got kinda accidentally stabbed the other week. It’s a totally different set of dangers. Peter resists the new assignments and because Jameson’ll be in deep shit if his number one Spider-Man photographer makes a fuss about working conditions (and because people are getting so desperate for employment that he can pay a new hire even less than Peter’s paltry freelancing rate), the Bugle shells out for another photographer to cover the work Peter won’t do. Good for Peter’s health, bad for Peter’s bank account―which is already whimpering with hunger pangs from sitting near-empty after paying rent. This gets him thinking. It might be time to turn his early-quarantine hobby into his mid-to-late-quarantine money-maker.

Yeah, pandemic hobbies! By April, it seemed to him like everybody was picking something up. Bread-making, yoga, sewing masks for healthcare workers left criminally under-equipped. The hobby Peter picked up, well… it’s a little different. He began practicing it indoors (obviously), by himself, and with skills gained from reading and watching material on the internet. In those ways, it’s a lot like other people’s hobbies. In some other ways, it’s very, very different. Like, instead of putting on specialized clothing like an apron or yoga pants, Peter’s hobby requires taking clothes off. It’s stripping. Peter’s hobby is stripping.

A few things led to him picking that over sourdough or Sun Salutations. Peter loves not only old movies but also old music. Old movies with iconic dance scenes? That’s, like, the perfect combo. He spends a lot of his downtime playing music in his apartment and, when he’s not wiped or injured, dancing along. He figures it’s good for his mood as well as his fitness. Seriously, he can only do so many chin-ups on the metal bar braced in his bathroom doorframe (which is starting to crack). Patrick Swayze’s solo routine from the end of Dirty Dancing is way more fun, even if Peter did tear the knees on a couple pairs of sweatpants because of it. The more music he listened to, the more he started freestyling his own moves in between those of leading men. It was that―trying to create something good of his own―that helped him understand the routines he watched. He figured out the balance between precision and sex appeal and somewhere in there, he realized he was performing for an audience in his head. And what this imaginary audience wanted wasn’t always the goofiness of acting out Risky Business and sliding across the short strip of bare floor between his kitchen and living room in socks, underwear, and a white shirt. Sometimes, the audience wanted him to lose the shirt.

At that point, Peter was once again wandering out of what he knew. He was comfortable with movie dances, had a little of his own repertoire, but he lacked this extra element of storytelling; it was the one that took him from fully dressed down to boxers and socks without tripping and struggling and falling into his meager possessions. That was when he turned to the internet and confronted the fact that he wanted to learn how to strip. If he happened to stumble into related tutorials on how to give a lap dance, who would know? Who was there to judge Peter as he performed for an empty kitchen chair, dragging his hand along the back and body-rolling to buck his hips towards where someone’s face would be? Yeah, it was kinda embarrassing while he was learning, but he had the endurance to try a move over and over until he nailed it, the strength to draw out isolated movements like twitching his hips to keep his butt drawing circles on the lap of his invisible patron, and the overall coordination of, well, Spider-Man. Which ends up being the most important piece of all because, when Peter decides to take his show on the road (or at least out of his tiny apartment), his ‘stage’ name requires about a second of thought. Spider-Man. He’ll go by Spider-Man. He laughs his ass off when he thinks of it. It’s fucking genius! Spider-Man stripping as himself is the last thing anyone would ever suspect!

Naturally, Peter can’t use any of his actual Spidey suits. Those would probably give him away. Also, he’d feel weird about having Karen’s voice in his ear while he flexed his abs next to somebody’s head. Fortunately, after a little digging―which turns into a lot of digging and leaves his room a mess of comingled clean and dirty clothes―he finds his original suit. The zip-up hoodie plus sweatpants one. Yeah, its technological capabilities are basically zero, it’s a little grimy, and too tight, but he doesn’t need it to do anything besides come off. The wear-and-tear will lend genuine-fake authenticity to his character and the snugness around his more developed muscles (it’s been a decade since he wore it last) will make it… sexier? He guesses? The most important thing is the mask, which is the only part of his costume he won’t strip off. Apart from his underwear, obviously. He’s not that wild.

He gets to work cutting a vertical line up each leg of his sweatpants, then sews in snaps. Boom, tearaways. They look kinda shitty, but if he’s any good at all, whoever he dances for shouldn’t be staring at loose threads.

So Peter has his moves, his costume, a few songs in mind, and no engagements. Oh, he thinks he can figure out how to get jobs, it’s just that he somehow keeps coming home, sitting down to compose his ad, and then doing something completely different instead. He’s truly scared witless. Nobody’ll see your face, he chants in his mind to psych himself up every time he’s heading home to his apartment. Still, he freezes at his laptop. There’s nothing about his body that he’s ashamed of―he uses it every single day to help people as Spider-Man. Maybe it’s that, this time, he’d be using it to help himself. Is he a monster for making a buck off his superhero persona? Peter holds onto that question for about a week until the date to pay rent is approaching and his bank account shudders in horror. Ok, money’s tight and he hasn’t been hit by a car lately, so he won’t freak anybody out with road rash or bruising or more of his hand-sewing to close gashes. With a little self-pedicure here and hair-removal there, Peter looks at himself in his bathroom mirror and decides this is as good a time as any.

He advertises online and his hands are still trembling when he gets a call from an unfamiliar number ten minutes after his ad goes live. The ringing phone actually makes him jump. It’s probably a telemarketer, or a wrong number. Nobody would call him with a job this fast. He was counting on having at least a day to sit with the choice he made. Peter fumbles for the phone and answers. For the next minute and a half, he struggles to hear the woman’s voice over the blood rushing in his ears. She thinks he’s the Spider-Man Stripper. He is the Spider-Man Stripper. This is hilarious and terrifying and oddly similar to the brief moment of freefall between slinging one web and the next as he darts around Midtown. Her friend’s birthday party, she tells him, two days from now. Something else she planned (Peter’s adjusting his sweaty, slipping grip on his phone and misses the details) fell through and if he can be the entertainment for a half-hour or so it would save both the party and her friendship. Not to add extra pressure, she jokes, laughing. The sound Peter makes is a weak echo. So can he be there? Is there space in his schedule? He pretends to check that ‘schedule’ so she doesn’t think he’s a total amateur. Yep, yep, he has an opening for her. She has an opening for him, she flirts back, making his eyes go wide as he clutches the phone. God, why couldn’t his first gig have been for some 22-year-old’s bachelorette instead of this middle-aged-sounding woman who possibly wants to eat him alive? By the time she’s telling him her address, Peter’s hands are shaking worse than ever, he can’t immediately find a pen, and she reels it off to him way too quickly. He’s scrawling the address on his arm and right as he opens his mouth to ask her to repeat it, she hangs up. He peers at his arm doubtfully. Should he call her back for confirmation? No, he doesn’t have the guts. Anyway, he can figure this out. The street name was Woodman, right? Or was it Woodlawn? And the number was 712. Or 271. There was definitely a 7 in there somewhere. And his client’s name was… Lisa? Lana. Maybe Linda?

Peter cradles his face in his hands and groans. When his phone starts ringing again―different number―he frantically declines the call, then deletes his ad. One job at a time. Even that, he now thinks, seems ambitious.

―

MJ’s glad she’s not the one throwing this party together. As Liz’s best friend, it’s Betty who took the reins, organizing and then scrapping everything more than once as New York moved from phase to phase during this pandemic. The end result is still less than what MJ knows Betty wants; ideally, there would be more than a handful of guests and things like shiny helium balloons and fancy desserts would be hand-delivered to Liz’s front door on the day of the party. Instead, MJ sits on the arm of Liz’s couch as she inflates yet another latex balloon the good old-fashioned way: blowing it up by mouth until she’s dizzy.

Cindy stomps over and plops down next to her, snatching a balloon from the party pack of 50 (and Betty insists they need them all). She’s been banished from cupcake decorating. MJ would offer a word or two of sympathy, but balloon duty has the prior claim on how she spends her breaths. All she can do is toss Cindy a plastic tiara (Betty bought one―just one!―reading ‘Mom-to-Be’ for Liz, but the online shop screwed up her order and sent two dozen ‘Birthday Girl’ tiaras in its place) after tying off her finished balloon. MJ’s already wearing one. Meanwhile, the tiara-less Mom-to-Be is being driven around the block a million times by her cousin because they’re having the party at Liz’s place and Betty wants the decorations to be a surprise. Liz’s husband, more simply, was banished for the entire day. MJ originally thought they could’ve put him to work, since it’s pretty hectic, but she’s too oxygen-deprived to worry anymore.

Finally, Betty declares from the kitchen that she’s frosted her final cupcake. MJ begs for a reprieve from balloon-inflating and Betty, feeling accomplished and generous, agrees they probably have enough balloons now. Cindy casts her half-inflated one away in disgust before going to help Betty clean up baking ingredients and do dishes. MJ does her best to shoo the balloons to one side of the living room, then carries spare chairs in because their couch won’t fit everyone. Fortunately, they’ve all been recently tested for illness and been vigilant hand-washers and mask-wearers since then, so at least she doesn’t have to find a way to keep every seat six feet apart. She’s just positioning a final chair, still a little out of breath from the balloons, when the doorbell rings. In the kitchen, Betty screams.

“IT’S STILL A MESS IN HERE! STALL HER!”

“’K!” MJ agrees.

She kicks a couple stray balloons out of her path and goes to get the door. They weren’t supposed to come back to the house until Betty texted, but maybe they got tired of driving around, or Liz started feeling carsick. MJ knows she’s been pretty delicate her entire pregnancy with twins floating around in her uterus like a pair of nausea-inducing astronauts.

As she opens the door wide, she sucks in a deep breath to call out a sarcastic ‘Surprise!’ But it’s not Liz and her cousin. It’s… a guy? In a red and blue costume. She thinks it’s a guy. She can’t even see the person’s face, but when MJ reaches up to self-consciously adjust her ‘Birthday Girl’ tiara, they tilt their head and seem to follow her movement.

“Oh! I’m here for you! You’re… not what I was expecting.” It’s a masculine laugh. Young. Nervous.

She crosses her arms suspiciously.

“You’re not what I was expecting either,” she accuses.

“Shit,” he mumbles. “I guess it was supposed to be a surprise.”

What? Betty might have planned a few surprises for today, but MJ does not recall a dude in a mismatched sweatsuit being one of them.

“Guess so,” she says slowly.

“Sorry, I’m, uh, Spider-Man.” He gestures to the costume. Well, she can kinda see the very distant resemblance to what the real Spider-Man wears; there is a crudely-drawn spider on the chest.

“Uh huh.”

MJ’s suspicion is shifting into amusement―this guy really seems to think he has an invitation―when Cindy comes up behind her. MJ darts a look at her friend and is glad Cindy’s no longer sporting her own tiara. No need to confuse this poor… Spider-Man impersonator.

“What’s up?” Cindy asks, poking her chin over MJ’s shoulder, happier now that she’s fled the tasks Betty continually assigns.

“Hey,” says ‘Spider-Man’. “I, uh, I was hired to, uh, dance for the, um…” He gestures at MJ’s tiara. “…birthday girl.”

At ‘dance,’ MJ’s eyebrows shoot up. She looks quickly at Cindy and realizes she’s going to say something. Cindy will handle this how she handles any inconvenience or anomaly: with forthrightness and concision. She’ll have this faux-venger hitting the road before MJ can blink. With a short, friendly laugh towards Spider-Man, MJ angles herself to block Cindy from view and locks eyes with her friend. Cindy’s face says, What are you doing? We don’t know this guy. MJ’s counters with, Let’s see how this plays out. Cindy rolls her eyes, but nods, so MJ steps away from her again.

“As long as you haven’t traveled outside the country in the last fourteen days or experienced symptoms of fever, etcetera etcetera, come on in,” Cindy invites, gesturing Spider-Man through the doorway. “I’m so sorry, but we were running a little behind with the food, so I have to disappear back to the kitchen. But why don’t you get started for her?”

“Cindy,” MJ hisses as she closes the door. “You have to stay.”

“I believe the man said he was here for the birthday girl.”

Cindy smirks and they both glance over to see that Spider-Man has found the speaker and connected his phone. Something catches MJ’s eye and her gaze skims down his leg. What’s up with the side of his pants?

“I’m not the birthday girl,” she reminds Cindy in a panicked whisper. “There is no birthday girl.”

“Well, in her absence, it looks like you’re the one getting her presents. Careful with that one.”

“Because it seems fragile?”

“Because I feel like it’s the kind that comes with a big package.”

Cindy pokes MJ hard in the side and flees when she squirms away. MJ glares after her. Yes, she’s curious about what the hell this impersonator’s doing here in that crappy costume, but it’s so much easier to be curious when she can observe something unfolding without actively having to participate. What she was thinking was that he’d come in and the three of them―Betty, Cindy, and herself―would see how far this went before something either gave them away as not being the people who ‘hired’ him (so he claims), or the guy crumbled under the quavering weight of his own anxiety. Nothing about his look or his manner announces experience. Now, MJ’s on her own as she takes a seat in one of the chairs she brought in. She crosses her legs, bobs her foot, and hopes to hell that Spider-Man’s a breakdancer.

“Listen…” she begins to say, leaning forward to address him, but as she speaks, he turns up the volume and her uncertain voice is drowned out by chimes tinkling above throbbing bass. Oh no.

It’s the tempo that scares MJ. She thinks she could deal with a rabbiting drum intro or the bright squeal of quick fingers on an electric guitar. This song is tauntingly slow and it’s obvious, by how Spider-Man turns in her direction and walks to her with measured steps, that what she’s about to experience will look nothing like handstands or the worm, nothing youthfully, recklessly acrobatic. It’s also clear that she’s in this alone now because the guy putting his back to her and swirling his hips with agonizing slowness as the gravelly vocals come in is in some kind of zone she can’t follow him into.

When I look in your eyes… the song goes. …I can feel the fire.

Nope, MJ’s outside of this, in the real world, where she hears him lower the zipper on his sweatshirt. When he rotates to face her, taking his time, she finds her hands are gripping the seat on either side of her thighs.

A see-through disguise can’t conceal desire.

Spider-Man’s disguise is hardly see-through―seriously, he must’ve been sweltering in those sweats on his way here―but it’s open now, from his clavicle down to where the band of his pants grips his taut abdomen. He probably can’t hear the groan that pushes out of her mouth when she’s just trying to exhale. God, please let the music cover it, MJ thinks. His hood’s still up as he steps even closer to her chair, subtly twitching his hips in her direction, and the ends of his sweatshirt dangle, flashing glimpses of more chest, more abs. MJ swallows and reminds herself that this is all kind of a joke. That she’s the one indulging him and they’ll laugh when this is over. She’ll apologize for the mix-up and he’ll shrug it off as he accepts monetary compensation for his time.

I’ve been readin’ your lips… the singer announces in a louder growl. Spider-Man abruptly strips the blue sleeves from his costume, leaving his torso bare beneath what’s now just a hooded red vest. He’s a fake superhero, but those arms are the real deal. Wow. …they don’t need no translation.

He widens his stance, drawing her eye down to his solid-looking thigh, then slides his hand across her shoulder to grip the back of her chair. His hips roll forward and she instinctively uncrosses her legs. With the extra room, Spider-Man briefly presses his thigh to hers. It scrunches the hem of her dress up before dragging it back down as he retreats. It’s reasonably innocent, likely not even intentional, but heat flares up MJ’s face like one of the candles she might blow out if this were actually her birthday. Honestly, she keeps forgetting it’s not.

They want more than a kiss, I come to make my donation.

Ok, she feels more than just thigh when he glides higher on her lap. MJ automatically flicks her gaze lower, because he’s a stranger and right in her space, and it lands on his groin. Spider-Man bucks suggestively and MJ immediately raises her eyes from the bump in the front of his close-fitting sweatpants. Jesus, is it warm in here? Somebody should do something about that before Liz gets home, fiddle with the thermostat or, or something…

So turn out the lights! the singer’s voice rockets up and goosebumps ripple up MJ’s arms as Spider-Man’s hands smooth down them in his fingerless gloves. He bounces low into a crouch and can’t be more than an inch away from the fabric of her dress as he rolls up her body, face in her lap for, I’m goin’ down slowly. Her pounding heart and rapid breathing almost push her boobs into his forehead when he reaches her chest.

Don’t tell me what’s right, just tell me you want me.

When their heads are level, Spider-Man surprises her by sitting lightly on her lap, nearly chest-to-chest. He takes her hands in his―MJ’s sufficiently stunned to allow him to break her grip on the seat―and guides them to his head, making her push his hood off. It’s strange to feel the mask under her palms. Wondering what his hair looks like really shouldn’t be a main concern right now.

Oh, tell me you want me. Just tell me you want me, want me, want me!

The more insistent the song becomes, the more persuasively Spider-Man gyrates in her lap. Sliding a hand over his head shouldn’t be this seductive without visible hair to push his fingers through, but the way his arm bulges with the motion makes up for it, in her opinion. MJ doesn’t know what to do with her hands. They hover in the air between their bodies.

Let’s make it, baby! the song explodes as he thrusts forward powerfully, throwing his head back.

Well, let’s make it, baby!

His hands go to his shoulders.

Well, let’s make it, baby!

He works his vest off, revealing the rest of his chest.

Let’s make it, baby!

He flings the vest toward the sofa. MJ doesn’t know whether or not it lands there. She doesn’t turn to look. This is… more muscle than she’s ever seen in person on a single human body. Once more, he takes hold of the back of her chair, but it’s with both hands now and his forearms squeeze her in, compelling her to lean forward as he grinds across her lap, forward and back, to, Come, come, come a little bit closer. His face angles into her neck; she feels his nose brush her skin through the mask. She can hear him breathing and it electrifies her. The only reason she clamps her thighs together like she does is to give him more room to straddle her. Really, it’s for his comfort, as a professional. Because this is all just… very professional.

She hasn’t determined where to lay her hands, which is fine because he has another use for them.

I wanna play doctor, the singer drawls while Spider-Man brings her hands to his pecs. Is his heart beating as hard under there as hers is right now or is she imagining it? He effortlessly takes gentle hold of her wrists and encourages her hands down his body. She doesn’t even notice when he lets her go to peel the gloves from his hands and push his sneakers off, leaving MJ to trace the thick, defined ridges of his abdomen.

It keeps gettin’ harder, harder, harder to keep it away!

With the end of the line, Spider-Man rips the sweatpants off―a series of metallic popping sounds too close together to count. Not that counting’s on her mind. Eyeing the cherry-red boxer-briefs that are even tighter than the sweats, she swallows. She can’t remember how to exist on the outside of this. She can’t find the door. Believing that this guy―who’s not really Spider-Man, just like she’s not really a birthday girl―understands, that they’re sharing the scorching intimacy she suddenly feels, is naïve. MJ is not naïve. She just can’t exactly explain why what should be an obvious (skillful, but obvious) pantomime of sex is working on her like real foreplay.

I wanna taste the sweat…

She swears he’s breathing harder than the dancing alone can explain when he palms her knees and pries them apart. Her legs are slack and willing. She is sweating.

…that’s runnin’ over your body.

Tucking his fingers into the backs of her knees, Spider-Man jerks her forward on her seat. It raises her hem to mid-thigh and her pulse to low orbit. He hikes her legs around his hips and she crosses her wrists behind his neck without guidance as he stays in what has to be a strenuous squat to body-roll. Everything comes forward in a delicious wave, from his shoulders to his crotch. From lots of angles, it probably looks like he’s fucking her into Liz’s kitchen chair.

In actuality, there’s no contact between them―not anyplace interesting―until…

Get the sheets all wet!

MJ doesn’t know if his hips nudge between her legs accidentally or intentionally on an overzealous roll. She’s never been given a lap dance before! Is this right? Is this permitted? He seems ready to run with it, repeating the action with greater certainty.

Yeah, I wanna make ya feel nau-nau-nau-nau-nau-nau-nau-naughty!

When the singer quits stuttering out the word, Spider-Man lifts MJ right off the chair into his arms. She inhales hard, desperate for air as the song returns to, Let’s make it, baby! And let’s make it, baby! Well, let’s make it, baby! And let’s make it, baby, baby! He has one hand grasping the underside of her thigh, the other clutching the middle of her back. He thrusts toward her through the chorus, shy of nudging the way he did before. The motion sways MJ fairly gently, thanks to his sure grip and ability to carry her weight with ease, but she might as well be tumbling around inside a washing machine for all she currently knows of up and down.

The animal urgency of the chorus drops down to the slow lull of instrumentals and Spider-Man sets MJ on her feet. She just about rolls her ankle and plans to never admit this made her weak in the knees. As irregular drumbeats keep her on edge, he sneaks around behind her and takes her wrists, raising her arms over her head as she fights the instinct to turn and stare at this guy’s mostly-naked body. She hasn’t dated anyone since before the pandemic, but it’s more than that. While she holds her arms up there, Spider-Man rocks against her from behind, the inside of his thigh rubbing the outside of hers, messing up her skirt, confusing her heartbeat. His hands clamp down on her hips and work them in a circular motion with her ass pressed directly against him.

Wait.

―

Peter’s hard. Of all the things that have definitely gone wrong (having to make up a routine from scratch after blanking in the face of a woman 20 years younger and 500 times more beautiful than who he expected to find) and probably gone wrong (he hasn’t shaken the exhilarating feeling that he’s almost certainly at the wrong house), this is the most serious. He’s in so, so far over his head and sinking deeper, metaphorically, as the woman he’s wrapped around cautiously returns the pressure, pressing his erection.

He was so nervous after meeting her that he went straight to setting up his music and forgot to ask for her name. It’s not like he can casually ask now. It feels like things have gone too far for that. Wasn’t he supposed to feel some layer of detachment, doing this? Stripping’s supposed to be a part-time job, like taking pictures for the Bugle. Maybe he’s too used to caring about people to set himself apart from this. Maybe it’s the shock of her youth and the feeling of touching a real-live person after practicing with an empty chair over months of physical distancing.

Maybe he’s just horny.

The instrumental section goes on and on and Peter yearns. This is a job, he thinks, running his hands up to her waist and back to her hips. As the musical intermission’s finally drawing to a close, he improvises again, scooping the woman up into his arms in a bridal carry just to eliminate the sweet friction against his dick. Where does he go from here? He knows what the tutorials told him, what really gets the target of a lap dance/strip show going. Could go with the couch and push his red vest aside, but the soft rug underfoot beckons.

Now turn out the lights! Bon Jovi rasps as Peter moves gradually to his knees and nuzzles his masked face into the woman’s chest because, at this point, why the hell not? She smells so good. He hears her gasp, then her fingers dig fleetingly into the back of his neck like she wants to hold him there. But she lets go and he lays her on her back in the valley created by leisurely-migrating silver balloons. The light refracted on the woman’s face is crisp and ethereal.

Don’t tell me you love, love me, no… Just, just tell me you want me.

Peter springs on top of her, arms braced and locked, and performs an exaggerated horizontal roll, his hips close above hers. This is the million-dollar (or, like, twenty-dollar) move. The one that unambiguously mimics sex. Though it’s so overstated, so dramatic, the tutorials claimed that, by this stage, the person being performed for would be so wound up, so aroused, that they’d just about believe it was the real thing. He watches the woman’s shaky breathing and flushed cheeks, feels her hands caress his abs, and thinks he’s doing pretty damn good. Too bad he can’t count this as a performance. The desire he feels when he lowers himself closer to her is not an act.

Don’t tell me you love me.

The skin-tight front of his underwear skims her dress. And, though she should really keep her legs out straight to do her part in preserving the distance between them (because he’s fucking failing), she slides her foot along the floor, raising her knee. Peter snatches hold of that knee with the feeling that they just signed some kind of contract and grinds himself against the fold of skirt between her legs. The woman’s chest heaves as she pants. His balls ache for him to stop playing.

Oh, tell me you want me, want me, want me, want me, want me, want me, want me! Bon Jovi and Peter’s sex drive demand, from a rumble up to a scream. Let’s make it, baby!

The woman beneath him tosses her head and bats away a balloon that clings to her hair. Her birthday crown’s askew.

Well, let’s make it, baby!

Peter’s hand is on her ribcage, too near her breast.

Well, let’s make it, baby!

He huffs, loud inside his mask, as he thrusts against her like she’s not some accident, like she asked him to meet her here. For this.

And let’s make it, baby!

Distinct lyrics burst into a high, expressive shriek of noise that sounds enough like a woman being pleasured to send a tingle up Peter’s spine. He grinds down hard, gripping the woman’s hip. By the second shriek, her back’s bowing, her hands commandingly squeezing his arms. By the third, she’s moaning as she rocks against him, tearing an appreciative grunt from him in response. The fourth shriek finishes her right before the song. Peter’s breathing hard on top of her, on the jaw-clenching edge of climax himself, feeling her writhe as the music fades out. It just leaves the two of them here, damningly entangled.

After a long silence, his playlist moves on. Peter stares down at her another few seconds as she strokes her fingers across her mouth, then her eyes snap to where she can’t see his through the goggles.

“Oh shit,” he mutters.

The woman laughs awkwardly like those two words are an understatement for the degree to which this has not gone as planned. She didn’t even know the plan, but anyone would know this was not the intended conclusion―a stripper dressed up in a novelty Spider-Man costume should excite, entertain, inspire lust. But he should stop short of dry-humping his client to completion. Yeah, that has to be an unwritten rule someplace. Peter really shouldn’t have needed to read it to know better though. This has just gotten incredibly out of hand and he has no idea what to say or do.

“LIZ IS ON HER WAY!” a female voice yells from the back of the house, maybe the kitchen that the other woman vanished into earlier.

Peter jerks to his feet, still rigid in the front of his underwear. He thinks the woman he just, uh, danced for is requesting help up, but she’s actually pointing. He looks and sees the bathroom just off the stairs.

“I’m good,” she says. “Go before Cindy sees you.”

Snagging his pants from the floor and the vest portion of his sweatshirt from the couch, Peter bolts for the bathroom as the woman sits up from the rug. Inside, his hands quake with adrenaline as he zips his sweatshirt and refastens all the snaps on his pants. He does his best to adjust things so his waning erection’s not too obvious. For a minute, he yanks the mask from his head and stares at himself in the mirror as he breathes. This is not the side-hustle for him. This was his first and last gig as the Spider-Man Stripper.

Mask back on, he returns to the front room to find the woman he was grinding all over standing with her arms crossed protectively as her friend appears to grill her under her breath. They both look at him as he stuffs his feet back into his shoes and grabs his gloves and the blue sleeves of his sweatshirt. He’ll just carry them. If he stood here and began redoing them, he’d probably die from mortification before he got the last snap snapped. He collects his phone, stopping the music mid-song. He doesn’t know what’s playing. Could be his favourite song in the world and he wouldn’t be able to hear it right now over the volume of the look his ‘birthday girl’ is giving him.

“I’ll just, um, show you out,” she offers, shepherding him away from the woman he takes to be Cindy. She doesn’t volunteer anything about the other person, Liz, who they seem to be expecting.

“Great.”

He’s thankful that Cindy gives them a little space and doesn’t follow. They pause in the entranceway. The woman presses two fifties into his hand, avoiding eye contact. Peter clears his dry throat and nods, closing his fingers over the money because he’s more uncomfortable about the idea of prolonging this with a back-and-forth over him saying it’s too much while she insists than he is about the idea that she’s kinda paying him for sex, even if thinks she doesn’t mean to.

She pulls the door open and Peter jumps aside for two women, one very pregnant. There’s a flurry of voices all of a sudden and when he slips outside onto the step before someone can ask who he is and what he’s doing here, he doesn’t expect the birthday girl to come after him.

“MJ,” she blurts out.

He grins under the mask.

“Peter.”

He never gets to tell people that when he’s in disguise, but she doesn’t know he really is Spider-Man. The honesty feels good.

“So, that was…”

“This wasn’t supposed to be… Um,” he starts again, swinging his arms slightly. “That was my first time. Doing this. I’ve never done a routine for anybody before, so I want you to know I haven’t, like, done that with a bunch of people. I’ve never done this. And I think, uh, based on what happened in there, that I probably shouldn’t.” Peter’s laugh is strained. “I really don’t―”

“Do you want my number?”

He chokes.

“What?”

“I… thought I might as well ask,” she says, clearly self-conscious, looking prepared for rejection.

“No, of course I do,” Peter tells her quickly, holding out his phone. “Please.”

“Ok.” MJ gives him a quick smile, then looks at his screen as she adds herself as a contact. He’s grateful she’s the one putting the numbers in. He really can’t be trusted with that. Peter’s not nervous now, just excited as he thinks about using the money she gave him to buy her dinner.

Though he’s pretty sure he knows the answer, he says, “This isn’t the right house, is it?” as she hands his phone back. She laughs.

“No.”

“Yeah, I… kinda had a feeling.”

“Hey, whoever she was, her loss was my gain,” MJ says bluntly, then blushes hard. Peter chuckles to himself, looking down.

“Ummm…”

“Well, I should get in there. Baby shower.”

“Right, yeah, sure, you gotta.”

“But call me.”

“I will. I definitely will.”

“Maybe you can even show me what you look like without the mask,” she says.

Peter nods, body nothing but a cage for a butterfly swarm, then turns. Behind him, he hears Cindy’s voice as MJ steps back inside.

“Did you just give him a hundred bucks?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s what you owe me for going in on the stroller!”

“I’ll go to the bank and take out another hundred right after the party if you want,” MJ offers, sounding unconcerned.

“But a hundred bucks? MJ, he was here for ten minutes!”

“Trust me, Peter earned it.”

“Peter?! That’s Spider-Man’s name?”

“Cindy, come on, he’s not actually Spider-Man.”

The door shuts. Of course he’s not. Peter could no more be Spider-Man than he could fall half in love with a woman simply because of the way she smelled and the fact that she wouldn’t let him off the hook for a lap dance. He starts down the sidewalk with a skip, smiling wide beneath his mask.

#my writing #spideychelle #spideychelle fic #spideychelle fanfiction #peter parker #peter x mj #peter x michelle #peter parker x michelle jones #michelle jones

[adrianasunderworld]

More headcanons for the boys +romance

Piers

Piers is secretly a sap for old movies. Black and white ones to be more specific. He not only finds them aesthetically pleasing, but also with their own charm. Theres a small theater in Spikemuth that exclusively airs vintage movies, and visits whenever he has time.

His and Marnies biggest bonding activity is hair night. She'll help him redye the white streaks in his hair(which is no small task). Piers will blow dry and straighten hers. They'll put on a bad movie from netflix, order take out and have a night. 

Piers can play guitar. But it's more for personal use than anything. He finds it relaxing to just sit an play while he writes songs. It's only for very specific songs that he'll play in stage. They're usually the very emotional ones that mean a great deal to him. Every piers fan knows, if he's holding a guitar, the crowds tears will follow.

Ever see that video of a dog relaxing while his owner plays the pokemon theme on an acoustic guitar? That's Piers and his pokemon.

Obstagoon is like a big bratty dog. Always wants treats, always wants attention. And will whine when it does not get them. When it was a zigzagoon, it would give big pouty eyes for treats and table scraps, and it always worked on young piers. He was a chubby little thing back then.

When skuntank was a stunky, it was biter. Nothing was safe. Furniture, clothes, fingers. Piers always had little red mark's from the teething pokemon. A quarter of all his money always went to replacing toys Stunky had destroyed.

Romance

 Piers has always been bashful around  people he genuinely likes. *coughraihancough* he'll do his damndest to play it off. But he's always been terrible at hiding a crush. Especially if he blushes around them. He's so pale any color on his face will be very evident.

Half the time he always assumes the other person has no interest in him. But he isn't dense enough to not be able to tell when he's being flirted with. He feels better talking to someone when he knows/feels like his attention is wanted. It makes him less nervous.

Isn't one for initiating pda, but is not opposed to it. He likes having his arm around his s/o shoulders though. 

Has written breakup songs before. No you can't hear them. They're private and locked away in his desk. He has just enough self respect to not air his relationship drama on stage.

Play with his hair, he'll be putty in your hands. 

Has never understood people who stay in relationships with someone who does not get along with their loved ones. Marnie is all Piers has, and if someone cannot get along with her or makes her uncomfortable, they are out. Plain and simple. Unless Marnie says it's ok to keep seeing them, Piers won't pick a relationship over his sister.

Piers is always busy with gym responsibilities or performances and practice. As fun as it can be to bring his s/o to events, his favorite date night activity is to stay home with them. He'll make them a nice meal, put on a movie and relax on the couch. 

Is actually a big cuddle bug. He loves snuggling on the couch. His head on your lap. Holding them in bed. Piers is touch starved and needs attention, please give it to him.

Start giving him good luck kisses before a performance, it'll be his favorite thing.

Raihan 

Raihan acknowledges he can be very vain at times. But the one being that out vains him at every turn is Duraludun. If it sees Raihan filming or taking a photo, it will butt in and try to take over the whole shot. It has become very good friends with the Rotom in his phone. When they get bored they'll stage a hostile takeover of his instagram andTwitter. It become a monthly thing.

Not so secretly a bookstagramer. Raihan always ends up in the vaults and libraries of Hammerlocke. He saw one of his gym trainers, Camilla, taking pictures of the books she was reading and asked about it. She showed him a lot of aesthetically pleasing pictures of books, and libraries, and artfully cluttered desk and wanted to try. It's not a secret, but he does try to keep it separate from his hyper dragon man gym persona. Sort of business vs. Personal deal.

He dresses very well. Despite that more often than not he is in his favorite hoodie and gym uniform, when Raihan wants to dress up,damn son. He spends a lot of time online and is friends with Nessa and Sonia, he knows what's up in fashion and what looks good on him.

He and Gordie are the Meme Team. Everytime they have a conversation it will descend into quoting and reenacting vines. Only the younger gym leaders know what they're saying, they just refuse to encourage it. Except Alister. Hes a little kid that hears these cooler older dudes being funny and try to join them. Hes they're third member now. Poor Bea, she couldn't save him.

Out of all his pokemon, he's had flygon the longest. Raised it from a trapinch when he was a kid. That's why he wears that orange hat/headband thing, to honor his buddy. 

Takes very good care of his skin. Partially because his face is always on camera, but also because his skin dries out easily and always need moisturizers. Nessa showed him all her favorite brands. He likes chilling out with a face mask, it's very soothing.

Romance 

Raihan is a very confident, attractive, and friendly guy, he pretty much never has trouble getting a date.

That being said, sometimes he gets a bit too confident and ends up coming on too strong for some people. 

This was definitely a problem in his teen years. He would just say the wrong thing with all the bravado he could muster and whoever he liked would scoff and walk away. He grew out of it, but it could be downright painful to watch young Raihan flirt.

Raihan is pretty laid back and generally takes rejection very well. Only when it was someone that he REALLY liked and had for awhile is when he gets truly upset. And when that happens he just hangs out at home for a bit or go out to the wild area, Spends time with his pokemon. Generally just wants be alone with his thoughts till he can bounce back. 

When Raihan is dating someone, he surprisingly doesn't want to post about it for awhile. If they're still together after a few months is when he'll post selfies and cute couple pictures. He's learned the hard way how certain types of fans will react to him dating, and once they go public they wont have as much privacy. He likes to have that grace period of just being a couple without all eyes on them.But once that initial hurtle is over. Its photo city with him.

Is a big fan of "good morning" and "good night" texts. Also loves falling asleep over the phone when you can't spend the night together.

Honestly just text him a lot in general. A lot of gym things take up a large chunk of his time. Text that you miss him, or a picture of one of your pokemon sleeping on the couch, ask if he wants pizza later. Literally anything will brighten his day. He'll definitely return the favor. 

Loves taking s/o out on the town. From league events, to friends parties, or just dinner and shopping. He wants to show them off. If you aren't comfortable with it, tell him sooner rather than later. 

Is a giant tease. Loves to whisper whatever he can in your ear or send something risque over text to make you blush and then act completely innocent.

Leon

Has a room in his house just for Hop. Hop used to love visiting him every summer in Wyndon. Otherwise he would never see his brother. The visits got less frequent over the years. But Hop always has a place to stay with Leon.

After he had been champion for a couple years was when the merch train really got rolling. Tshirts, posters, stationery. You name it, it had Leon's face on it. As a kid he lost his shit over it and but over the years got less enamored. Although he does have a soft for the Leon toys. After all, who doesn't want an action figure or doll made of them?

Leon does his best to keep himself and his pokemon in shape and on a daily routine. That all gets thrown out the window when he visits home or family comes to see him. All his pokemon get treated like spoiled house pets. FromHaHaxrus  being a test taster for his mom to Hop flying around the neighborhood with charzard. Its takes over a week to get everything back on track after.

Charzard is obviously the leader of all the pokemon next to Leon. All the newer pokemon always look up to them for guidance and charzard is always friendly and helpful. They are also very fond of kids, it loves events like visiting schools or children's hospitals. He's like a drampa in charzard skin.

Haxorus is a diva. She loves attention and shiny things. She adores Sonia because when she was just an Axew, Sonia always gave her a little trinkets, like sparkly hair pins or a pretty rock. She also loves to be complimented, Leon always calls her his pretty girl. Theres pile of shiny stuff that no one is allowed to touch at Leon's house unless she allows it. 

Whenever leon visits home, he always tries to go out with his old friends. Usually they have a few drinks at the local pub and have dinner. Oddly enough, Leon can get lost going next door, but can stumble home no problem when he's drunk. Go figure.

Ever heard of a sneaker head? Well Leon is a hat head. Whenever his favorite brands come out with a new hat design, you can bet your ass he'll be line for the release or online waiting for the listing to show up. The wall of caps at his moms house is but a humble sample of his collection.

Played softball as a kid. He throws his pokeball the way he was taught to pitch. As a kid leon liked to think if he couldn't be a trainer, he would like the be a baseball player. 

Romance 

Leon can't flirt for shit,and I mean this in the nicest way possible. His idea of breaking the ice is asking if you want a battle. 

Leon was especially hopeless as a teenager. He spent so much time with the league, an environment of mostly adults, being around anyone his age was a damn miracle. 

Sonia and Raihan would always take him to parties to socialize. But anytime someone tried to make a move on him, Leon would just think they were being friendly. 

Raihan has always been his wingman.

Raihan: My friend over there thinks you're cute. *points at the damn champion waving awkwardly from across the room.*

Even Now, they still do this. And it still has 50/50 shot of working.

Has been in a couple relationships, but both have ended badly. They were ultimately with Leon for his title and not him.

Leon wants to be with someone, he just finds it's harder for him than he realised. When he does find someone, it's going to be a bit of a slow go to know them and be sure they aren't using him. When that wall breaks he going to be the happiest man around.

Leon is affectionate and will always find a way to touch his s/o. From a kiss on the cheek, to random hugs, to lightly touching their back as he passes.

This man has never half Assed anything in his life. Leon's a go big or go home kind of guy, so when he wants to make a romantic gesture, he'll put his all into it. From picnics on the stadium field, to a special camping spot in the wild area, dinner on the top floor of the battle tower. Even just flowers will be from the best florist in in the city. Leon wants to show how much he loves you and nothing but his 110% best effort will do. 

As extra as Leon is, it's always the small quiet moments that get him. He'll wake up early and see his s/o peacefully asleep, and he'll just melt and stay there for awhile.

 You could try to make his favorite meal and burn everything and he'll still be touched. It's very much the thought that counts for Leon, because it shows you care enough to put the effort in.

King of cheesy lines. Will say the lamest pick up lines or something he heard in a movie to try and make you laugh. It usually works because he always says it with a straight face.

#cant be back on my bullshit if i was never off it #they're just fun to write ok? #pokemon #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon swsh #Raihan #gym leader raihan #gym leader piers #piers #leon #champion leon #leon x reader #raihan x reader #piers x reader #pokemon headcanons

[bts-reveries]

page turner | 7

“Aren’t you excited to see Hana unnie?” Namjoon says to Moonji, poking her cheek, as they walked to 24/7 Heaven, Sohyun’s bakery. Namjoon was walking with Moonji in his arms. She seemed to be a little tired this morning. Well, the two of them were used to waking up at this time, but last night, Moonji wouldn’t sleep so her and Namjoon stayed up a little later than usual to watch a movie. Namjoon loves to spend time with her, so he didn’t mind. 

“Are you sleepy?” Namjoon asks when he doesn’t get an answer. They were just about to turn when little Moonji nods. “Do you want to go home then?” Namjoon asks while opening the door to the bakery. Instantly, they got a whiff of fresh pastries and vanilla. 

“Moonji-ah!” Yelled Hana. Her voice made Moonji light up and soon enough, she was smiling again. Her little eyes disappearing as she smiles. 

Namjoon chuckles, “there we go.” He puts Moonji down and she runs off to her cousin. Hana hugged her tightly.

“Mommy’s making a cake, and I’m making one too, do you wanna help?” Hana asks her. Moonji first turns around and looks at Namjoon.

“Daddy can I help?” She says in a little voice. 

“Of course you can sweetie. Go ahead.” She smiles happily, turning back to Hana, who takes Moonji’s little hand in hers and they run off to the back.

“Oh--” Someone says in surprise, followed by little giggles. “Yah- be careful, don’t run.” Namjoon chuckles slightly as he sees Yoongi come out of the door the kids just ran into. Guessing the kids bumped in to him. 

“Ah, Namjoon-ah.” Yoongi says, walking towards him. “Here, I just made some for myself.” Yoongi hands him a cup of coffee, still hot.

“Thanks hyung.” The two men sits by a nearby table.

“So we didn’t get to talk about your trip to Ilsan, how was it?” Yoongi says, stirring his coffee.

“It was good. My parents missed both me and Moonji, and actually, Taehyung too,” he laughs, “they miss all of you guys actually.”

“Your parents are great, they should come down when Jimin and Yuna does their gender reveal.”

“Are they going to have a party for that?”

“Yeah, Yuna was talking to Sohyun about it and if she can make the cake. They want it to be close friends and family only. So the gang, and their parents and our parents.”

“That’s so sweet. So is the cake inside going to be blue or pink?” 

“That’s the plan,” Yoongi says.

“So Sohyun will know the gender before any of us?”

“Yeah, even before Jimin and Yuna, they’re just going to give her an envelope with the gender on it, Yuna and Jimin will find out on the day of.”

“Ah really? That’s cool. Do you think Sohyun would be able to keep the secret? Or are you going to ask to know?” 

“Honestly, I wouldn’t have to ask, she’d tell me right away. It’s going to drive her crazy if she doesn’t tell anyone.”

“But then you can’t tell Hana, hyung.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’ll tell the other kids! And then the whole family would know before we even get to the cake,” Namjoon says laughing.

“You’re right--” “YOONGI! CAN YOU COME OVER HERE?!” Sohyun yells from the back, immediately, the two men got up from their seats in panic.

“Is everything oka--” Yoongi says back, about to walk towards the door when Sohyun walks out with eggshells all over her hands and apron, and flour on her face and top. Yoongi and Namjoon both tried not to laugh as they see two little floured girls walking behind Sohyun.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea to have both the girls playing with cake at the back alone.. I’m busy fixing up an order and I can’t really watch what they’re doing, do you guys mind?” Sohyun says, wiping her hands on her apron. Yoongi looks over at Namjoon. 

“I guess we can continue our conversation later,” he says, grabbing a roll of paper towels.

“It’s okay hyung, you can go watch the kids, I’ll be here,” he holds up a small notebook, “writing.” Yoongi nods, turning towards Sohyun and wiping her hands. He chuckles. 

“Your face looks like a clown.” He says, making her glare. Meanwhile, before Namjoon heads off to his favorite spot to write in the bakery, he takes the roll that Yoongi was holding, bending down to wipe the faces of the two girls. 

“You two need to be careful when you’re in the back,” Namjoon says to them two. “Auntie Sohyun is trying to do her job, you two don’t need to make any more work for her to do, understood?” Moonji nods, turning to her Aunt.

“I’m sowwy, Auntie.” She says. 

“It’s okay baby,” Sohyun says, kneeling down to stroke her hair. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry too mommy,” Hana adds, shrugging her little shoulders. “We won’t do it again.” Yoongi scoffs.

“You’re right you wont. Why don’t you two help me clean up the mess you made, yeah?” The two little girls nod. Yoongi holds out his two hands and Moonji grabs the left, while Hana grabs the right. He leads the two back to the kitchen to clean up their mess.

“I’m sorry about that,” Namjoon says, sighing. 

“Don’t worry about it Joon, they’re just kids. We’ll fix the mess,” Sohyun says, smiling brightly at Namjoon. “Now, go write another best seller,” she says, pushing him towards the front of the bakery, where his favorite spot is, making him chuckle. 

“Alright, thanks Sohyun.” 

Namjoon looks down at his notebook, flipping through the pages while walking towards the big window towards the front of the store. There were stools on a little counter connected to the wall where you can face a large window and watch everyone who passes by. It gave a clear view of the streets, and stores and cars, and people, and.. everything. Which is why Namjoon liked it so much. He was able to get inspiration from watching what happened outside. 

Namjoon looks up from his notebook and he stops in his tracks. Someone was already sitting in his seat. He didn’t think much of it and just moved to the other side of the shop. 

He pulls a chair, sitting down. It didn’t feel the same. As petty as it sounded, he wanted his seat and only his seat. He glanced at the lady sitting there, covering her face with a book. She held it up, elbows on the counter, so all she could see was the book. Why would you sit facing the window when all you were going to do was cover it up? Namjoon furrows his brows and the lady moved slightly. Namjoon’s eyebrows raised. The book she was reading was his. His latest book. Suddenly, he softened up. The lady might be a fan. It makes Namjoon happy to see someone reading one of his writings. He smiles softly when suddenly, the lady lifts her head away from the book, staring off into the distance, beyond the window. She must’ve remembered something. She had the look on her face like she forgot to turn the stove off. But Namjoon didn’t realize how openly he was staring at the lady, she must’ve felt his gaze. She slowly turned towards him, eyebrows furrowed, ready to ask what he was looking at her for, when her eyes grew big as saucers. 

“N-namjoon?”

“Yn?”

They say at once.

Namjoon stands up from his seat, suddenly, walking across the room to get closer to her.

“What are you doing here,” you say, making him chuckle. “I- I’m just asking, not to be rude or anything I just--”

“It’s okay Yn. One of my best friend’s girlfriend, who is also my friend, owns this bakery and my daughter and I come here often so she can play with her cousin while I write for my books.” Your eyebrows raise.

“You wr-write your books here?” you say, lifting up the book you were holding. “Did you write this one here?” Namjoon smiles at you.

“Well, parts of it. But I usually get ideas while I sit-- in that seat your sitting on is my spot actually.” Your eyes widen and you quickly scrambled off of the seat and awkwardly stood next to the stool.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to take your seat--” “No need to be sorry,” Namjoon says, taking the seat anyways. It made him feel more comfortable. “You can sit next to me you know. You act like we haven’t met or anything before, no need to be nervous.” He says, with way too much confidence. 

“I- okay. Well, I’m just tripping out because it’s such a huge coincidence that we’re seeing each other again.”

“I know.. Is this your first time coming here?” You nod.

“Yeah I just recently found this place online. I thought it was cute and right when I came back from Ilsan, I figured I can spend my next morning here and so.. Here I am,” you say, nervously giggling.

“And you’re reading my book? I thought you said you’ve read it already.” Namjoon says, pointing out the book in your hands.

“Oh, yeah. I have. This is my third time reading it.”

“Oh? Well, wow, thanks.”

“Is that the girl Taehyung was talking about?” Sohyun whispers to Yoongi as he watches you two from behind the cash register.

“I guess so. It looks like her by the picture he showed us. Damn, Namjoon is so awkward.”

“Namjoon looks really happy.”

“Yeah, he’s blushing.”

“He is! We should invite her tomorrow.”

“For game night?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“I don’t know, I don’t want to butt in.”

“We should totally butt in.”

“We can’t just go up to her and ask her to come over.”

“Duh, that’s weird. Just follow my lead,” Sohyun says, wiping her hand on her apron once more. She walks towards you two with Yoongi following behind her.

“Hey Joon, Moonji just finished decorating a cupcake for you and she wants you to see it,” Sohyun says, interrupting your conversation.

“I thought they were making a cake?” Namjoon questions, tilting his head.

“That was before they dropped a bag of flour all over the kitchen floor,” Yoongi says, gesturing at Sohyun’s attire. “Remember?”

“Oh.. yeah,” Namjoon says. You were quietly listening to their conversation, although you felt like you weren’t supposed to. So you began to flip through your book. “Okay, umm,” Namjoon says, turning towards you, “sorry, I’ll be back.”

“Oh, no worries,” you smile. 

“Wait,” Sohyun says as Namjoon gets up.

“Hm?”

“You’re not going to introduce us to your friend?” She says, smiling towards you. 

“Oh, I’m not his frie--”

“This is Yn. We met at my signing.” Namjoon says.

“Sorry, I’d shake your hand but I’m kind of a.. mess right now,” Sohyun says, laughing slightly. “You can come with us? If you like.”

“She’s Sohyun by the way, and I’m Yoongi.”

“I could’ve introduce myself--” “Well, you were talking to much,” Yoongi says back. You tried not to laugh.

“Anyways, let’s go?” Sohyun says. Sohyun and Yoongi walk off to the back while Namjoon followed. 

“Yn, you coming?” He says, it made your heart flutter.

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

❆❆❆❆❆

“Daddy look,” Moonji says, holding up a cupcake with a blob of green icing on top.

“Wahhhh~~~” Namjoon says in amazement. “Is this for daddy?” He asks her. She nods with a cute smile on her face, making Namjoon’s heart melt. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he says, leaning down to give her a kiss.

Moonji moves her head to look behind her dad and she sees you standing there. You give her a small wave, not knowing if she remembers you at all. She waves back at you and she leans over to pick up a cupcake, handing it over to you. This one had yellow frosting. 

“Oh!” You say in surprise, walking over to take the cupcake from her little hands. “Thank you,” you say and she smiles at you. 

“Yow welcome,” she says, kicking her little feet as she sat on her chair. 

“Honey, do you remember her?” Namjoon asks. Moonji nods her head.

“Unnie!” She yells. You felt your cheeks heat up. She was the sweetest thing you ever seen. Meanwhile, Hana walks over to her dad, hugging his leg as she looks at you.

“Oh and Yn, this is my daughter. Hana.” You look down to his legs and see another adorable little girl.

“Oh my goodness, hello,” you say, waving at her. She gives you a sweet smile and waves back.

“Why are you acting shy, you know that’s not you,” Yoongi says, earning a soft glare from Hana that makes him squish her cheeks.

“Ah! Daddy you’re putting icing on my face,” she says, wiping her cheek on her shoulder.

“You’re covered in it already anyways,” Yoongi says, “A little more can’t hurt.” He says as he dips his finger in a bowl with leftover icing and wiping it on her cheeks, making her squeal.

“And this isn’t even all of them yet,” Namjoon says to you.

“What do you mean?” You say, making Sohyun giggle.

“He means there’s a lot more kids. A lot. More.” Sohyun says, Namjoon nods right next to you.

“My six brothers, who are my best friends. They all have a significant other, except me and Taehyung, and they all have kids, and one of them has one on the way.” Your eyebrows raise.

“So you all have one kid each? That’s like.. Almost going to be six kids right? Since Taehyung doesn’t have one.” Namjoon shakes his head no.

“There’s seven kids right now, and one on the way, so it’ll be eight soon.” 

“Oh wow.” 

“You can meet them all if you’d like.” Yoongi says, picking up Hana.

“We’re having a game night at our place tomorrow night if you’d like to come,” says Sohyun.

“Oh, no no no,” You say, laughing nervously, “It’s okay, I don’t want to bother or anything. I’m not a part of your friend group.”

“You’re not bothering us, in fact, I think Namjoon would love it if you come. Wouldn’t you Joonie?” Yoongi says, making a face at Namjoon. He knew exactly what he was doing. And how could he say no?

“You’re welcome to come Yn.” Namjoon says.

“I- I’ll think about it,” You say nervously. Namjoon nods.

“Well just text Namjoon if you’re able to come or not--”

“Oh, we don’t share numbers,” you say. Yoongi punches him on the arm.

“Why the heck don’t you have her number?!” He says, making you laugh. When Namjoon just looks at him, Yoongi made a face to get him to ask you for your number.

“C-can I? Have your number?” Namjoon says, smiling because he feels awkward. He slowly hands you his phone and you take it, carefully typing in your number.

“Seeeee, that wasn’t so hard, wasn’t it?” Yoongi says, getting a little pinch on the side from Sohyun. 

“Ow!” You giggled at the two couple, they seemed sweet. Namjoon chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. His confidence seemed to suddenly fade away and now he’s a shy mess.

“Unniee~” Moonji says, calling you. You turn to her and she hands you another cupcake. “More.” 

“O-oh,” you laugh, “more.” Moonji started to grab another cupcake when Namjoon stops her.

“O-- no more,” he says, “Unnie’s hands are full now.” 

“Thank you Moonji,” you tell her, making her smile. Suddenly your phone starts ringing. “Oh-- uhh--”

“Let me hold it,” Namjoon says, taking a cupcake from you as you take the phone call.

“Thank yo-- hello?-- yeah-- right now?- but-- okay.-- I’ll be there in a sec.-- yeah, bye.” You sigh as you ended the call.

“Is everything okay?” Namjoon asks. You nod.

“Yeah, my sister’s stopping by to pick me up. She’s actually in front right now, she wants me to come with her to the mall.”

“Oh I see.”

“Yeah, I better get going,” you said, turning towards the door. “Oh, and thank you, Sohyun and Yoongi. It was nice meeting the both of you. You too little Hana.” Hana’s face beams at you.

“It was nice meeting you too Yn,” Sohyun says. “We’ll see you tomorrow?” You hesitate for a second before smiling at her and nodding.

“Mm, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” You turn once again to leave.

“Unnie!” Moonji yells again. It sounds like it’s her favorite word, considering how much she’s been saying it. You turn around.

“The cupcakes,” she says, pointing to the two cupcakes in Namjoon’s hand.

“Oh,” you say, running back. “Thank you again Moonji.” You take them from Namjoon’s hand, looking up at him. “I really have to go now,” you say quietly to him, your phone was dinging every second because you had a very impatient sister. “I didn’t get your number, but text me, okay?” Namjoon watches you as you run off. He looks down, taking his phone out of his pocket.

contact name: Your Biggest Fan 

contact number: 010-0613-2013

❆❆❆❆❆❆❆

page turner

❆part seven: fate is back in the bakery❆

→ pairings: author!namjoon x fangirl!reader

→ a/n: i lied, i wasn’t supposed to work on this and i was supposed to post on friday but guess who’s super duper early ????? also i googled what phone numbers looked like in korea and idk if this is right sjfkjkjfng

→ taglist:

@xclo02 @salty-for-suga @monosomes @bitchpeachyboo @dammit-jjk @anonymous-assets @lysjeon @realsparkles @igotarmyofarohas @kuroidi @yuriah04 @my-petaldrop @butterflylion @unlikelylittlemiss @mayumioutloud @raplineh0e @dreamcatcherjiah @moon6rop @taehunnies @sope-and-shine @blueberrykenn @oh-worm-yee-haw @tirednation @heartfeltscribblings @chiminilove @lylanie12 @moonlightrose19 @the-things-in-the-dark @sagey-rages @osnapjenn @crystxljinie @brutallysoftwoman @threedecadesofawkward @bts-kay @chims-kookies @taekookcaneatme @callmepaopao @forkpops @sailor-moonss @listless-losers @hhhhwww7 @hellomousie @kxkth @strwberry-jam @parkjiminstan16 @annie-panda @greencorduroyjacket @incredibleella @betysotelo18 @pure-otaku106

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#bts-reveries #bts #bts x reader #bts x you #bts fluff #bts one shot #bts fic #bts au #bts smau #bts dad au #dad bts au #bts social media au #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon fluff #namjoon fic #namjoon dad au #dad namjoon au #namjoon au #namjoon smau #namjoon social media au #jin smau #yoongi smau #hoseok smau #jimin smau #taehyung smau #jungkook smau

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #383

“the big bully try to stick his finger in my chest  /  try to tell me, tell me he’s the best  /  i don’t really give a good goddamn ‘cuz i got my lunchbox & i’m armed real well”

Ever had a friend online for a long time without seeing a photo of them? Well yeah. Most of my friends are online, and while I've seen pictures of most at least once or twice, some I still haven't. The last time you threw up, what caused it? It was a side effect of a mood stabilizer I started. Any foods from other countries you would like to try but haven’t yet? I'm sure there's something, idk. Do you think the world would be more peaceful without any religion? Yes. Have you ever had a stalker? No. Does it hurt your feelings when people talk shit about things you love? It makes me self-conscious way more than anything. I start to obsess over whether or not the person things poorly or weirdly of me for liking what I like. I just feel judged for liking it, but that's my problem. Do you like it when people give you nicknames? I do, actually. It feels kinda affectionate to me. Do you often find yourself checking out people’s butts? Haha I'm not gonna say it's never happened, but it's not something I make a habit out of for sure. What fandoms are you in? MEERKAT MANOR IS BACK BAYBEEEE, Markiplier, Silent Hill, Shadow of the Colossus, World of Warcraft, Spyro, Wings of Fire, and lots more, honestly. I'm into a lot of stuff, and I don't love in moderation, haha. Are there any fandoms you used to be in, but left? Yeah, like Supernatural, Good Mythical Morning, or Warriors, but it wasn't out of "I don't like it anymore" or anything, I just drifted away. Anything the fans in your fandoms do that pisses you off? World of Warcraft if particular has one of the most toxic fucking fanbases. There are so many goddamn elitists and people who whine about "boohoo WoW is dying" and "omg this game has been trash since Wrath" and yada yada yada and it's annoying as hell. They always find some shit to complain about. Then Silent Hill... ugh. I think people just hop onto the "the series sux after 1-4" bandwagon to fit in with a certain crowd, but that's not the main thing that annoys me; rather, it's the fact the former main admin of the SH wiki made a fucking joke out of us there. He was clearly having personal issues and made a HUGE and utterly ridiculous deal of Silent Hill 4 having heavy symbolism to the main character being obsessed with the bullshit idea of him being circumcised, and it led to a maaaassive thread of us members trying to talk some damn sense into him as he abused his power. He was finally banned by the Wikia staff, but not in time for some gaming websites to publish "news" stories about it because it was just that ludicrous. Now, YEARS later, we still get trolls coming onto the site to try and revive the drama by inserting absolute rubbish into pages or making new ones. Nowadays I'm the main administrator there, and it's fucking embarrassing sometimes. I'm supposed to keep the wiki under control and respected, you know? Ugh, I'll stop. I could rant for a very long time about this. Do you prefer ruffly or regular potato chips? Ruffly. Do you write down your own recipes, or just commit them to memory? I don’t cook. What color do you want to dye your hair? My top three are pastel pink, lilac, and a light creamsicle orange. I REALLY want to dye it SOMETHING. :( How do you like your chicken? Of course breaded (like nuggets, tenders) is my favorite, but I also enjoy is broiled and seasoned well. There's other ways, but because I don't cook, I, uh... don't know how a lot are made lmao. Do you enjoy cheese fries? UUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHH YES. Do you eat refried beans? I absolutely hate beans, so no. What is a food you enjoy, but don’t have very often? A whole lot because a lot of it is from restaurants and we don't eat out all that much. As well, my diet is very narrow just because of how picky I am. Marilyn Monroe or Audrey Hepburn? Why? I mean, what are we comparing them for? I think Audrey is fucking gorgeous, though. Marilyn is also beautiful. Favorite fictional world? Uh, I dunno. Do you use lint rollers often? No. Do you carry pepper spray? No, but I want to. Has your power ever gone out for more than a day? I think so. Other than a dislike button, what’s something you wish Facebook had? Hm, I dunno. What time do your parents normally get home from work? Mom can't work right now, but I think Dad gets off around 5PM. Are you afraid to ask people out on dates? Yep. Do you think it’s better to look for love or let it find you? Both can work, but I definitely prefer to let it find me. I feel that *in general* that usually has better results. Have you ever found yourself worrying about commitment? No. I'm a very committed person romantically. Would you get involved with someone if they had a child already? No. Have you ever had a rash from poison ivy? I don't believe so, no. Do you have any chairs in your bedroom? No. Did you watch Elmo as a child? Some, yeah. Do you know anyone who doesn’t eat meat? I don't think so, off the top of my head. When you throw up, do you cry? No, but I'm a whiner and will also shake from fear because I have such a phobia of vomiting. Doing it totally turns me into a baby. Who was the last person to carry you? I couldn't tell you the last person to full-on carry me, but back when I tore a ligament in my foot, my mom kinda had me lifted when she would help me walk. Is it easy for you to accept loss? Absolutely not. I handle it very, very poorly. Have you done anything sneaky lately? No. Have you ever had a rolling back pack? Yes. Who knows you better than anyone else? My mom, probably. Would you ever want to go to Brazil? Sure, if the opportunity came up. Are there any medical conditions that run in your family? A lot, mostly heart problems. What band has the best guitar solos? Metallica imo. Who is the biggest jerk you've ever met? She was somehow my former best friend. Have you ever swerved off the road to avoid hitting an animal? I've never been in that situation, thankfully. What's a charity you would never donate to? I'm really not familiar enough with charities and their practices to know which ones are sketch or not. Have you ever grown your own herbs? No. Do you have any exes you'd consider dating again? Yes. What were some of your favorite classes you took in high school? Art and German. Mythology was fun, too. Do you know anyone with a profession in law? Yeah, I have a cousin that's a lawyer. Have you ever Googled yourself? Yeah, outta curiosity. What's the shortest amount of time you've had between relationships? Like, two days. Part of the reason I left Girt was because I liked Sara. As a child, what comfort foods did your parents make for you when you were sick with a cold or flu? Chicken noodle soup. What's a movie series where the sequel was better than the original? Ha, for some reason Inspector Gadget came to mind. I guess from mentioning my childhood. I was FUCKING OBSESSED with that movie as a kid. The first one's fine, but I love the second one. Does your car have heated seats? Mom's doesn't. What is the strangest pizza topping you've ever eaten? Nothing strange, really. Describe your hometown. What’s it like there? Small and dangerous. Lots of run-down areas. A gang nearly broke into our house once, if that helps you get the picture. What was the last video game you beat? I replayed Silent Hill 2 forever ago. What did you learn from your last failed relationship? It really just taught me that you need to take care of your own mental health before you can effectively handle another's properly and strike a healthy balance. What country does your favorite band hail from? Britain. What’s something on your to-do list that never actually gets done? Finish decorating my room. -_- Have you ever been really passionate about something but then lost interest? If so, what was it? Good Mythical Morning, I suppose. I used to be OB-SESSED. I still adore Rhett and Link as people, they are fucking wonderful human beings and excellent entertainers, I just drifted away from their content. I don't really know why. Do you sleep with the TV or the radio on? No. What’s the worst thing about being male/female (whichever you are)? Menstrual cycles, I'd say. It affects your mood so much, and as someone who's bipolar, it can be very confusing. I like to know why I'm feeling a certain way. What movie has the best special effects? /shrug How many work hours per week is too much for you? I wouldn't know, I've never really worked long enough to figure this out. Can you remember your first day of school? I think I have the faintest memory of it. I know I was very scared to leave my mom (I had absolutely awful separation anxiety from her) and I MIGHT have cried, but I don't really recall with certainty. Have you ever entered a modelling competition? Would you? No thanks. Did you keep any drawings/stories from when you were younger? Most, no, because the level of cringe is LITERALLY unbearable for me. Do you have a safe? Mom does somewhere. What’s the scariest thing to happen to you so far? The breakup. That night was just fucking terrifying. I was so certain my life was over, like the situation was so, so impossible in my head. What was your last dream about? (or your daydream if you don’t remember) My memory's faint, but I just remember I had a nightmare where a LOT of my bones were totally snapped in half. When was the last time you saw a relative? Excluding my immediate family, I last saw my now-departed grandmother and my uncle a while back at a hotel as they were passing through. Have you ever been in a TV audience? No. Are you in any way close to reaching a personal goal? Not really... Do you prefer crosswords or word searches? Word searches. Do you like making collages? Not really. Do you remember any inside jokes from childhood? No. What would you love to learn to do? Digital art, like drawing on a tablet. Do you prefer monkeys or lemurs? Lemurs. Do you watch movies based on the actors or the movie plot? The plot, 100%. Are you more shy in real life or on the internet? I am WAY more shy irl.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''lunchbox'' by marilyn manson

[alovevigilante]

Resting “the holidays are coming they’re almost here and oh no, I’m not the least bit prepared physically or emotionally” face, Aka in a holi-daze. (Even though it’s sparkling and snowing on my head in my house in this picture...)

I’m not entirely sure why, but I am stressed. Let’s not focus on the “why”, cause I’m here already, I’m in the stress, so the “why” doesn’t really make a difference. Let’s just focus on now. Now, I’m writing on tumblr. So far so good. One word at a time, and the post is formulating thusly. I am breathing, and I am looking at the phone screen. Ok, now I’m here with you. Hey you! Thanks for joining me.

Love, is in every moment we recognize it. It’s in the gaps between breaths, and it’s in us, when we search for it. Sometimes it’s hard to notice, cause it’s quiet, and it’s not pushy. Love is really gentle, and it likes to sit silently inside of you. Sometimes it whispers when you are really going ape, but it’s not always easy to hear.

The monkey mind, is loud. Man, those crazy monkeys... they are all up and down in your business, and in your grill, and in your other appliances that live inside your head. But they can be appeased by a simple change (or shift) of focus, into your body, and what you have going in the present moment. When you do that, the monkeys tend to settle down a bit, cause they don’t have an audience to show off for.

Being in your now, is not always a thing that is a go-to for a lot of people. Listen, nut bag lady talking about my “now”, I’ve got things to do, an agenda, people relying on me for x, y and z this and that, a laundry list of things to accomplish, plus laundry on top of that, which is on the top of my laundry list of things to do, not to mention the holidays, and aunt sweetums, who creates issues in my head with her crazy that I perceive, and the twins, my old pals from days of yore, frick and frack, who are hard to shop for but we exchange gifts still, and who are probably cool people, but we don’t spend enough time together and so I wouldn’t know and the holidays illuminate the fact that I’m disconnected from everyone and everything in my life, and my neighbor’s dog’s cat, that I pulled to buy for in the holiday grab bag, and that cat is like Morris the cat from the commercials from the 70s... a jerk fach, and extremely finicky, and I heard that he told his owner to go to the dungeon and stay there,

so he’s clearly hard to please, and I have no 9 lives to offer him, cause I barely have one that I can handle, and now I have to shop for his fickle little cat butt, and he probably won’t like what I pick, cause I have no interest or clue what he wants, and I have wasted so much time watching so much tv in my past that I remember the Morris commercials because I pull them up and watch them instead of doing my laundry list of things, cause I avoid what I’m supposed to be doing because it’s so not something I want to do yet I have too much of it that I’m obligated to do, cause I’m overextended and it’s daunting, but I also have fun stuff to do which isn’t as fun to do when I know I have 75 other things I should’ve done but didn’t, and I remember Morris’s rude behavior but I forgot all of my passwords to most of my online crap that I need to accomplish so that amazon can deliver it all before the holidays, and now, I’m mad, and late, cause I said I’d pick up a special lunch for my son and he needs to be back at school at a certain time, and I am riding on fumes in my car, and the pump didn’t work, and I hit my knee hard cause I parked too close to the pump, and I squeezed out of the car, and it cost almost $100 to fill my tank, and when I finally got to the fast food restaurant we went to, it was anything but fast, and now... blagh.

Oh boy. Now I’m in the soup. You know why? Momentum. You ever notice that when you pay attention to things that are unpleasant that’s all you tend to notice? That happens. And I tend to get all stressed out over things that are not in the immediacy, and that aren’t life threatening anyway. So the 2 combined? A slight disaster, of my making, and choosing, all inside my own lil noggin up there.

So what if Morris doesn’t get one of his presents on time? Dude has 9 lives to get presents. And he’s a cat, so you know, maybe not so aware of the holidays anyway. I hear you... stupid example. Well, the thing is, all the little Morris issues add up to a gigantic mess inside your head, and it’s hard to manage when things are pushed to the side, and not discussed with you.

I talk myself down often. I acknowledge my part in the mishegoss. I find myself causing a lot of my upset, because of my reaction to it. Maybe I don’t have to freak out so much. Maybe I can try to notice it, and laugh. It’s not such a big deal, even if it is. And if it is a big deal, and I can’t laugh, maybe I can be kinder to myself and just put it down for awhile, and concentrate on my existing. My breathing, whether I’m holding tension in my body, and if so, where? Maybe I can do something to help myself. Maybe I can make some hot tea, or coffee. Maybe I can sit down for a second and not think. All of these things, can help get to your present moment, and to help your future ones as well.

Taking time out to pay attention to you, is important for healing the issues of your life. Yes, others are in want and need of your assistance and attention, and you can get to them. But the attention to self needs to come before that so you can be better for all of the others. If you are not aware of your energy, it can easily rub off on someone else. If you are stressed, and short with someone, it can affect the day of that person, and travel from person to person, like a germ. Energy is real, and the more we feel into ourselves, and recognize where we’re at, the easier it is to see why others react to us the way they do.

So this holiday season, getting all of your “to-dos” whether they get completed or not, don’t focus so much on the upset of it. Do what you need to do to get stuff done, but focus more on how you feel, and being ok, and treating yourself well around it, and notice how when you get a handle on that, it helps everyone. When you don’t freak out about what can come, and what could be, and what may occur, you will feel better.

When we experience the thoughts of all that fear of the unknown, we are actually choosing to experience it anyway. Your body reacts to the “what if”. Your mind goes through all the scenarios and you go with it. Have you ever done that? Have you gotten so worked up about something that you got yourself literally sick over it, and when it was all said and done it wasn’t anything to get so upset about? Well, on the days leading up to the thing you have to do, you worried, and stressed, and got a belly ache, and complained, and talked about it endlessly, and yes, you experienced what you didn’t want to experience regardless, with your total attention to the fear of it happening. And that’s not being kind to yourself. That’s self abuse. Don’t do it. You will report yourself to the higher ups of you if you do. And you will get in trouble with you, trust me. You’ll feel every last bit of the repercussions of thinking that way.

Please be loving to yourself. The world needs more love in it, and you are the only one that can control how much love you experience, and how much you subsequently give out. Please have a beautiful holiday regardless of what you need or have elected to do. Have a beautiful holiday in your mind, cause that’s where it all starts. Feel the peace from within. Give yourself the gift of love. It’s free, and freedom. ❤️👍🎁

#choose love #love manifestation #love matters #self esteem #self reflection #selfworth #self care #self development #self improvement #self love #stress #stressed #stressed out #love yourself #a love vigilante #selfie #positivevibes #positive #positivelife #stay positive #positivity #meditation #meditación

[thejosh1980]

“My Daughter”

I'm really tired.

Even though I sleep well most nights, I'm still tired. Sometimes the whole day.

I'm still trying to find my routine. For sure, at 08:00 each morning I'm driving Mum to school and picking her up again at 15:00...

Other than that, it's all about whatever I can do to keep myself occupied... Look for work, think about my career, visit a friend, take Alex for a drive, clean the pool, swim in the pool, check the surf or think. 

Today's been a thinking day..... I miss my dog.

It's a very long story, one that I wouldn't want to bore you with the finer details of, but in the end, I was once a proud father, but now my 5 year old baby is with her mum in Dresden and I am here in Ocean Shores.

I miss her every single day.

Some days are worse than others. I can't go a day without thinking about her. She was my life. There's usually 2 questions that roll around in my head...  “what is she doing/feeling now, without me?” and “what would we do together if she was here?”.

I well up thinking about these questions, and usually distract myself immediately so as not to cry.

My ex and I agreed early on we wouldn't post pictures of her or discuss/post about her online. We wanted something private just for ourselves. That decision was made back when I was touring a lot and we had plenty of fans around.

I don't know if that rule applies to me now, and while I do want to respect my ex's wishes (our wishes), I also feel that I should write something down, document my feelings and try to process this... Writing has helped me with a few things so far, why not with my grief?

I guess in the end, I have to get used to the idea that she's no longer my dog. 

I mean, I never had any official paperwork with my name on it saying I owned the “property” that was our dog (how could I? It was all in German anyhow!!!). Officially, I have no say in where she lives and who she lives with.

In fact, I didn't want a dog at first. I've always been scared of them... Terribly afraid because when I was very young, our own dog (in Melbourne in 1984-85) scared the living shit out of me too many times... So I have always had reservations about dog ownership...

That was until the little brown ball of fur came into my life... I loved that little puppy like my life depended on it.

Although I may not be registered as her father, I love her like one.

I am her Daddy. I always will be.

I trained her, I took care of her, I loved her. And I was very proud to do so. She is amazing...

I trained her to skateboard, paddle board and hang with me in the studio (yes, I even have videos of her singing along with me). She could travel all over Europe with me, visit any number of famous locations and take it all in her stride. She's walked Venice, urban swam in Bern, had tourist photos at Checkpoint Charlie and been photographed by more Japanese tourists than I can care to remember...

I taught her how to give hugs on command. She'd pull me in and wrap her little paws around me, it was the sweetest hug anyone could ever get... I miss them...

She is a real beautiful talented little girl...

But maybe the most important thing was, what she did for me.

When “my daughter” came into my life, I had just stopped drinking (6 months earlier). I was still trying to find the new “me” in a world where all my friends and band members drank regularly around me. I was fine with everyone drinking.... However, if anyone who has stopped drinking (or doing drugs) knows, when that crutch is no longer in your life, when you have nothing to hid behind anymore, you learn more about yourself than ever before...

She gave me love, strength and courage to do things I was scared or worried to do... She gave me reason to live...

If this was an AA meeting, I'd say she was my sponsor.

I received unconditional love no matter how bad I felt in a social situation that made me uncomfortable. She looked up to me for guidance, and in doing so, guided me to feeling more comfortable in my uncomfortable skin.

I wasn't afraid to go places when she was with me. I wasn't worried about what people would think, or how I would feel or think... I was happy because she was by my side, and she surely was happy having me take her places and give her treats.

We were a great team...

Now that I no longer have that team, that partnership, that unconditional love, I hurt.

I worry if I can do anything without anxiety anymore. Can I step out of my comfort zone without her??

Well surely I have come along way in the past 5 years. Still ain't drinking, still learning all the time how to deal with my inner struggles. But without her, it feels harder... I struggle without her constant love and companionship.

I never thought in all my years, that a dog would be so important to me... She still is...

The last time I saw her was in late June. I decided to take control of how and when I let her go free. I arranged my dearest and trusted friend to meet with us, and I could pass “my daughter” over... And my friend could walk her to my ex's place.

The idea of passing her over directly, that would have been too much... I couldn't do it. It was hard enough just to pass her to my friend. It took a long time, a hell of a lot of tears (in public no less). The idea of giving this beautiful thing away hurt me to my core.

It still does.

She knew something was up. She was quiet and attentive. She could read me like a book... I tried to say “goodbye”, but the words could barely come out. I know I said “I love you” as often as my tears would allow.

When I made the decision to leave Europe, I knew I'd miss a lot of people and places. I knew I had to give up a lot of things... At that moment, that day in June, it all came to a head.

If, at the time, I was still on the fence about moving, I'd have stayed... I wouldn't have been able to let her go (I still haven’t)... But as all the plans had been made, and I knew my Mum was waiting for me, I had to do it. I had to keep moving forward... No matter how much it hurt...

My last image of my girl is her walking away with someone we both trusted. (she has the sweetest little butt). I ran after them down the street (crying like a fool), but she didn't look back.

She didn't know that was the last time she'd see me... How could she, she's a dog! She doesn't understand... But I do... And it hurts to think about how she feels without me in her life.

I have not had a photo or an update since... It's been 4 long months...

I wake up everyday wondering if my ex would see things my way and send her to me... Maybe she'd have a change of heart, or maybe her circumstances have changed... My ex knows I'm waiting... 

Hope is the last to die...

Originally I wanted to write an update on how our new life down here was going, but I can't get “my daughter” out of my mind, so I figured I'd write about her... Maybe in a few days I can express more about our life here, but for now, my beautiful four legged girl is all I can or want to think about.

I cried while writing this, and I'll cry again if I have to proof read it again (so I’ll get Alex to do that!). 

The sense of loss and sadness is overwhelming.

I just want to process this pain and replace it with love and happiness for our past... I really want to smile when I think about her, and laugh about her silly ways, but I’m not ready... I realised now, I still have more grieving to do... 

I hope writing things down helps...

Thanks for reading,

Josh

#adogspurpose #my daughter #coparenting #missing someone #new life

[tbh-entp]

yo could you write a survival guide for ENTPs in quarantine? If you are surviving yourself that is. I have started performing chemistry experiments in my kitchen and it might get dangerous

Is this the best idea I’ve heard yet! I think so. Yes. Yes. Yes. Outside of a partially unwelcome gift from mother nature this morning (is this TMI), I am surviving quite well during this quarantine. This doesn’t include the first week in which I cried mULTIPLE times in the light of my breakup blues that I’d compartmentalized behind the now stripped away meaningless socialization. Nay, the first week was useless and so reliant on the hope that others would text me and check on me. And while many did, I spent most of the days sewing a useless spiral into a pair of unfortunate pants that are now.... in the trash. 

Which takes me to part two of this saga. The light at the end of the tunnel. The bald head under the cut: Maya’s declassified COVID-19 survival guide: ENTP (or high Ne users) edition

Noise is our friend

This doesn’t work for all types for sure, but I’ve noticed for most ENTPs I’ve encountered, we like working around crowds or people or general movement and noise

I also find myself distracted if the noise is too interesting.... so if I’m working, I’ll put on a TV show in spanish that I’ve already seen 10 times... so I know what happens but I’m not totally listening because I only understand if I pay full full attention

When I clean my room, I put on either music or informational youtube videos (that are still fun) like Biographics or Geographics

When I really have to focus, I can turn stuff off actually and talk to myself (lol)

Sing! Dance! Listen to music

It increases happiness. Lord knows we need happiness

also a great outlet... no matter how good it is

Get up and dress like you’re going somewhere every day

Be fabulous for yourself

Hair, makeup, heels, tuxedo, whatever

I’m actually dressing better than I normally dress tbh

I go to dates in sweatshirts though so... low bar

Text your friends!

social distancing isn’t the same as not talking to friends! 

Even if you’re not that close, it’s a perfect time to get in touch. 

Literally just found out a friend is pregnant and I am still....... surprised that i’m old enough and that my baby fever is someone justified

Make random meetings with your friends to go over what you’re doing

Just helps keep us on track with whatever’s going on

Also of time. It’s easy to lose track of time

Turn off the news

This is the pot calling the kettle black

But humans shouldn’t intake so much bad news, try to do it once or twice a day if it’s really important to you, but CNN doesn’t change too much between minutes, and you don’t wanna make yourself too sad.

Don’t online shop unless you gotta

do ya gotta tho

do ya

We’re gadget people.. I had to put this in there. 

hide your cards and log out of amazon

Make some serious lists: here’s what I’ve got

Projects: What you WANT to do

these are the time fillers, but we all have those secret joys that we do, and if you’re anything like you me, you forget about them. Write them down!

The list is important so that you keep your weird side hobbies productive and you don’t end up freezing boiled eggs for the sake of science. (cough)

Practice bass guitar, learn choreography to everything by Dua Lipa, take more artistic instagram pictures, learn German, rearrange the room, etc.

Work/School/Obligations: What you NEED to do

If you’re working from home like me, try to divide the things you have to do for work into separate, achievable deliverables

If you can, make meetings with people you work with here and there (like.. 3 or 4 a week if you can manage, minimum), because it’ll force you to use your Fe to get things done (if not for you... for others ;) )

Exercise: Keep your life active

GOTTA STAY ACTIVE YO

Plan yoga dates with friends 

Do the choreo for Dua Lipa’s music more than once till’ you work up a sweat

Grocery list: An ENxP has got to eat somehow

Adults & humans doing their own shopping! Plan your meals! Look up everything you need, determine how long it will last you, and try to minimize shopping. (slash/ don’t try, do it)

And look up some sexy recipes ;) ;), bake, go nuts! Cooking/baking/making can be super fun when you get creative

And make lists for things that you like

It’s easy to have waves of loneliness here and there. It’s easy for us to forget there are things that just make us happy so write it down when you remember

For me it’s things like watching Psych and putting on a face mask and trying to order my toiletries

SCHEDULE YOUR DAY

As a rebel I don’t follow schedules but even writing it orders my day way more than having nothing at all

Mix in the projects + the obligations + eating + exercise

But try to have a goal or two per day

one work, one play, and then food + exercise every day

do some scheduling every night before you go to bed

also put a glass of water next to your bed for when you wake up in the morning

Find online groups for things you love!

There are groups for everything. Be careful, of course, the internet is full of murderers, but I’m a part of a natural hair group, a PhD group, and a group of aspiring writers.... also a Schitt’s Creek fangroup. 

They’re people, aren’t they? This also counts as socialization. 

Post the things you achieve!

If the loneliness is really getting to you, then use social media for what it’s for! 

Showcase what you’ve done!

Artsy pics? Check. 

Super mediocre looking food that you’re proud of anyway? Post it.

Can you do a perfect lip sync of Jurassic Park? Put it on TikTok. 

Share the talent!

It gives you a reason to finish your projects, and keeps you in contact with people who enjoy what you do and what’s keeping you busy! 

Go outside!

Not around people, but go outside!

If you have a garden, sit in it.

If you have a slide, go down it... and then do it again. 

If you have a patio, jump some rope on it.

Over time, the quarantine has helped me do things that I want to do in a way I wasn’t doing before. Being forced to watch my time, cook for myself, exercise since I’m living on my butt, and reach out of I need it. It’s been.... re-equilibrating and refreshing actually. Also, in the beginning, it was hard to not be around people. Now I don’t need them as much as I did before. I still need them, don’t get me wrong, but I realize that I was hiding behind them a bit. And so now I’m not hanging out with people just because they’re there. I’m having video chats and calls when I need them, and the rest of the time, I’m doing things I want to do. I even still have JOMO (joy of missing out) when some friends want to have video chats. So it’s totally still possible to do this, be healthy, and feel as if you’re getting appropriate amounts of socialization. 

Everyone, be safe! Stay inside as much as you can, and get in touch with yourself again. :) 

#best #maya #lol #covid-19 #can you tell i'm a Ne user #this is good for ENTPS and ENFPs #entp #enfp #mbti #answered #quarantine #meyers-briggs #personality #personality type #advice #Anonymous

[birth-fic-lover]

Going above and beyond

Avery had worked for Dalia for 3 year now and still had goosebumps whenever she walked into the room. She always seemed so put together, she was not only the kind of woman who she wishes she could be but the kind of woman she wished she could be with. She had dark pristine skin that looked so smooth, while Avery’s pale skin still was stained with acne she couldn’t shake from her teens.

She didn’t know much about Dalia’s personal life, but knew that she must have someone as she was due to start her maternity leave any day now. She had refuse to start it till the baby was here, so now Avery’s boss was still coming into work a week overdue. Even heavy pregnant Dalia’s maternity blouse and skirt fit perfectly, she looked so neat as she strode into the office one hand on her globe like belly.

Avary sighed, there was no point wasting her time wanting a woman that is already taken. She decided right there and then that she would find someone of her own. During her break she looked for a dating site to join, she found one rather quickly that she didn’t recognise. 

DateNOW: don’t waste your time online messaging, be set up on a first date in 5 easy steps and start meeting people in real life!!

Avery looked at the site maybe this was exactly what she needed, to get right back into the saddle. I mean technically she was never off of the saddle more she got distracted by someone she could never have.  

She filled out the online application form sending over a copy of her ID, as well as filling in a questionnaire about what kind of woman she was looking for. She tried not to think too much of Dalia as she filled it in but she couldn’t help it, she pressed send and was surprised that soon she got a notification that they had found her a match.

She was surprised that she had no picture or even a name just a time and a location, she looked it was meant to be this evening!! She hoped she would have enough time to get ready, as luck would have it her boss Dalia seemed to not want to overrun today either. 

Avery arrived at the small restaurant that the site had told her to go to, she noticed that a lot of single women were queuing to get in. She soon discovered that DateNOW had rented the place out for all the dates, she waited and was soon seated ready for her date to arrive.

As she kept looking at the line wondering which woman would be sat with her, suddenly she thought her jaw might drop off. Dalia was in the que to be seated!! Avery was shocked not only because she had assumed she was with someone, but also that she was straight. Plus she knew she was at least a week overdue, she just couldn’t believe she was here.

As the guide took Dalia too her table for a second she thought she would be sat with her, but instead she was put on the table next to hers. But Dalia still saw Avery and gave her a smile, “well isn’t this a surprise, don’t worry I’ll leave you too your date.” she said and pointed to a blonde lady who was just sitting down across from her.

Avery nodded and then faced the lady “hi I’m Avery, it's great meet you”. 

The lady smiled back at me, at first not saying anything and then says "well ain’t you gonna ask my name?”

“Umm whats your name, sorry this is all so strange” Avery says.

"Welcome to the age of technology” she says “I’m Paula, I’m a olive grower.”

From then on she knew this date wasn’t going to work, Paula didn’t seem to be thinking so either. They both politely go though the motions, but she found herself glancing at Dalia more and more. Too her surprise Dalia seems to be doing the same, till eventually they knew that as soon as the dates were over Avery would be talking to Dalia outside.

Both the dates end quickly after desert, in fact Paula leaves some cash and says she needs to go. As Dalia says goodbye to her date she sits where Paula was just sat and smiled, “well I’m glad that was over, here” she says passing Avery the cash on the table and putting down her own card. Avery then realises that Dalia insists on paying for Avery’s check, dispite her trying to stop her but she won’t even discuss it. “My date was disastrous too, don’t worry about it.” she says as they walk to the carpark.

“Yeah neither of us seemed to of come out of this well” Avery said “but it was nice to see you out of work, you look nice as always.”

Avery was surprised to hear Dalia laugh “Avery it’s okay, you don’t need to complement me because your my employee”

"But I wasn’t” Avery admitted softly looking her right in the eyes, she couldn’t believe she had just said that. 

Dalia’s dark eyes locked onto Avery’s light brown ones, "would you like to come back to mine for ice cream? Neither of us got anything sweet tonight and I'm not ready for this night to end yet." 

Avery nodded and they both drove to Dalia’s home, as they walk towards the door they both knew something had changed between them. Dalia rubbed her orb like belly and paused before opening the door, “you know I didn’t actually ask you here for ice cream?”

Avery froze “I didn’t, but I am very happy to be here for not ice cream. But I don’t want this to be a one time thing, you see I have kind of liked you for a while. I would want this to be the start of something” she said bravely but quickly.

Dalia smiled, “you are aware that I literally could have a baby at any point, it will be my first priority for the rest of my life. You have picked a terrible time to start seeing me”.

“I’m seeing you?” Avery said softly before Dalia walked into her house followed by Avery.

The hall was more narrow due to a buggy being in the way, as they took off there coats and shoes they were reaching around eachother until Avery was trying to slip past Dalia. But Dalia put her hand on her shoulder stopping her from moving, her dark eyes met Avery’s. "I’m so sorry” she said softly, Avery felt her heart beat fast. Was this too good to be true and she was going to be rejected afterall?. “I’m sorry” Dalia continued “that I never noticed you in this way before, espaclly since you had held me in such high favour and you obvously have no issue with my impending motherhood”.

“I’m not, I’m not sorry at all”. That was was all Avery could say, they were both in semi darkness. Delia slipped her arms around her and dispite her gravid belly they were close enough to kiss. “You are so beautiful, especailly now your litrally filled with life” Softly at first Delia kissed her and then the passion between them grew like the child in Delia’s womb. 

Delia sighed as they stopped kissing, “you don’t mind that the first time we are together it’s covered in strechmarks? It doesn’t help that I’m overdue”.

"You're large belly has a healthy child inside, thats all that matters. As I watched you grow I would think the bigger you get the stronger your baby is”. That made Delia happy, she had worked so hard for this baby. With that she led Avery by the hand to her bedroom. As soon as they were in the room Delia spread her legs and pulled Avery between them. And then began kissing her all over again, then leant against the wall and enjoyed holding each other as Avery kissed Dalia’s neck. 

Dalia hands moved down Avery’s back and over her butt,"you smell wonderful, I wanna eat you all up" she said. She grasped the zip to Avery’s dress, she slid it down and then slipped it off. Delia slid her hands under Avery’s bra, she enjoyed the feel of her small breast. She then unhooked her bra with her other hand, Avery had waited so long to be touched by Delia. It got better as Delia’s mouth brushed over her nipple as she leaned close, she looked up and Avery gave her a smile of permision. As she moved her lips Delia felt how hard and erect they were, she was about to wrap her lips around the nipple but then she felt a twinge inside her.

Delia’s face twisted in reaction, and before she knew it Avery was guiding her to the edge of the bed. “Delia, are you okay? It is your back? I don’t want you to push yourself”. Delia wasn’t used to this, she was used to being the object of sexal attraction. She was used to the pressure to perform in the bedroom, or else be seen as a disapointment. But as she looked into Avery’s eyes, she only saw care concern and love. “Delia” Avery said “your overdue, it’s okay we have pleanty of time to enjoy ourselfs. As I said before, I don’t want a one time thing. I am more then happy to wait until you have had the baby and fully recovered from doing so. Till then why don’t we just cuddle and kiss”.

Being so valued and cared for made Delia want to make love to her right there, and then, she knew it couldn’t wait. This moment felt perfect, it was at that point that Delia was starting to catch up with Avery in feelings for the other. So she put her lips to her ear. "I want to make love to you." 

Dispite everything Avery couldn’t help what happened next. "I want that too," she said, her voice almost trembling. 

Delia squeezed her hand, smiled and they were in each other's arms again. But this time with more confidence, Delia knew she wanted Avery to touch her as much as she wanted to. They both let themselves fall back onto the bedsheet there hands moving as they explored each other. 

“I want to enjoy every inch of you" Avery admited as she moved her hand over the face she had imagined so many times, her love for her was evedent as she stroked her cheek. She then leaned down and kissed Delia softly before she began unbuttoning her shirt. 

Delia leaned up feeling the full weight of her overdue child as she let Avery remove her clothing. She felt another twinge but covered it by talking, “ohhhhhh hmmmmm I'm usually more reserved, especially on a first date."

“Is that so?” Avery said taking Delia weight so that she could unvail her milkfilled breasts. Aware of not wanting to strain Delia she settled her against the overstuffed pillows, then continued to lock eyes as she moved her hands over her breasts. Delia’s skin was soft and warm, Avery moved over one breast and then to the other, gently rubbing each sensitve nipple then rolling them between her fingers.

Delia opened her mouth, letting out moans the ones of pain mixed with the ones of plesure. Avery’s hand moved down her body, she could feel her stomach moving as the child with reacted to there mother speeding heartbeat. Delia’s legs spread and Avery brought her hand lower, her fingers made their way between her legs. She was pleased how wet Delia was, she did this to her.

As Avery was about to take things further Delia moaned, she had felt the twinge come back stronger this time. They both knew what was going on, this baby wanted to join them. “I don’t wanna stop” Delia moaned dissapointed.

“And yet we must, but I can stay with you. We can go to the hospital right now, I’ll be there for you through the whole thing if thats what you want”.

But Delia shook her head “I’m not going to the hosptail, I was going to deliver this baby in my bath”. To avery’s supprise Delia slipped off the bed and went to the bathroom.

A sound of running water was herd, Avery wondered if she should follow when Delia came out wearing a dressing gown. “Will you still stay with me?” she asked.

“of course, while we wait why don’t I rub your back” Avery offered.

Being pregnant for so long was taking it’s toll on Delia so she sat on the bed,  Avery pulled her close and felt for the belt on her dressing gown. When she untied it Avery leaned into Delia ear “I’m glas I could be here for this” she said as she took off the dressing gown and began to explore her body.  Delia could feel Avery’s hands moving over her back, moving around her body.

“Why did you fall for me?” Delia asked, she was unsure she deserved so much attention. To her suprise as Avery rubbed the knots out of her shoulders and soothed her pains only stopping for contractions, she was able to tell her why she was in love with her. “Well I hope I’m not a disapointment, being in this condision I don’t feel very sexy”.

“You look beautiful" Avery said confidently, “I have had the plesure of watching from my desk you grow a child”.

"Thank you” Delia responded simply, before leaning into Avery as another contraction came. She let out a moan, wondering if she was doing the right thing trying to have this baby naturally and alone despite being so far along. “Hmmmmmmm shouldn’t we be timing these?” 

“I’m been watching the clock, they seem to be coming every 10 mins at the moment”

“Haaaaa hoo, I knew you were clever” she said with as much of a smile as she could muster. “I just wasn’t clever enough to see what the amazing woman who was in front of me, hoooo ohhhh” Delia moaned as she held into the headboard of the bed, Avery tried diging her thumbs into Delia’s lower back. 

"Well we got there in the end, now lets get this baby out of you finally" Avery said as she kissed Delia's neck softly. Even in the throws of labour she gave Avery goosebumps with her belly that hung low with her child. 10 minutes later they were off the bed and Delia was swaying, her hip movement helped to help with the pain and pressure that was building. 

“I think we should check the bath isn’t overrunning” Delia said, and Avery guided her into the bathroom to a huge tub that could easy hold them both. But Delia wanted to cry when she realised that she had forgot to put in the plug. She needed the bath for the next round of contractions.

Avery quickly caught on, “it’s gonna be okay, the sooner we fix this the sooner you can get in.” She helped Delia sit on the toilet and then prepared the bath, suddenly she clenched eitherside of the seat as another round of contractions hit her hard. “Hooooo haaaa hooooooooo the pressure is getting worse” she moaned half doubled over by the strenth. 

Avery wished it was time to push but knew Delia wasn’t even close yet, it was hard to see the woman she love in so much pain. Delia’s belly visably tightened as she widened her legs trying to find some kind of relief. When Delia locked eyes with Avery she suddenly felt Avery's concern, "do you think I'm a fool? Hoooo haaa haaa" she was interrupted by the contractions that weren't quite finished.

"No" Avery said coming close and holding out her hands to Delia, "you have always been the kind of woman who will do things her way".

Now her contractions were finished Delia could speak, "I think I'm falling for you more and more". She took Avery's hands and brought them to her belly, "I'm glad this all happened, this way you can be in this little boys life from his first moment." Delia then let go of Avery's hands so they rested on her orb like belly, "I just hope you will stay in both our lives" she said cupping her face and kissing her.

Avery rubbed her belly, she couldn't believe she could be part of Delia and her son's life. Whilst Delia was starting to feel uncomfortable, Avery could feel Delia's belly harden under her hands. Delia's scalp was covered in sweat, "ohhhhhhhhh hoo hoo gaaaahhhh if this is before its even time to push haaa haaa then I am a fool to do this with ooooooohhh without pain meds."

Delia felt like her baby was gonna explode out of her with the amount of pressure she felt. "Hell hell help meee, spread my legs" she begged.

"It's time?" Avery asked looking doubtfully at the shallow pool of water in the bathtub. Avery helped spread her legs, hoping it would be enough to give her relief.

Delia leaned into her, "oooooh gaaaahhhhhhhh hoo hoo gaaaaaaah" Delia moaned into her hair. Avery couldn’t tell if she was pushing or not, she was about to warn her about pushing before she is dialted. When all of a sudden the both her and Delia froze as they herd huge rush of water exit from between Delia’s thighs. As Delia felt the amnotic fluid leave her so did the pressue, “hoooooooooo” Delia moaned in relief as Avery rubbed her back.

As soon as she could Delia, with Avery’s help got off the toliet. Avery guided her to the bath not wanting to let go of her. Delia’s huge belly was pushing into Avery’s flat one, it hung low like a overipe fruit. 

She felt the next contraction come and she didn’t need a clock to know that they were now more freqent and lasting longer. She held onto the side of the bath and felt the urge to squat, “Gaaaahhh ooh ohhhh message my back" Delia cried out. Avery got on her knees and started rubbing her lower back, “oohhh I can feel myself opening up" Delia moaned.

Avery wondered if Delia would get in the bath in time or give birth sqatting on the bathroom floor, one hand held onto the bath while the other supported the bottom of her belly. Once she was ready Avery helped her into the bath, she let out an audible sigh as her belly was submurged in the water. As she lay on her back her aches in her bally and in her folds were soothed a little and the water took the weight of her belly from her.

Avery stood still half naked wondering if she should join Delia, noticing Delia caressed her large bump and smiled warmly at Avery. “It’s up to you, I just need you by my side either way.” With that Avery retuned the smiled and took off her remaining clothes.

Carefully Avery joined Delia, she looked so peaceful as she rubbed her belly. “I love you” Avery said, the words just natrally slipping out.

Delia opened her eyes fully “I know, I love you too” she said supprised how quickly these feeling had formed. They were both quiet until suddenly Delia gripped the sides of the bath. “HOOOOOOOO haaa haaa HOOOOO GAAAHHH” Delia’s moans were loud and deep her head down, she let go of the bath and clutched her belly. Her son was now slipping into the birth canal, this baby was on it’s way.

Avery pushed herself forward so she was on her knees in the water, she wrapped her arms around Delias. As both protectively held Delias womb Avery spoke soothing words as Delia moaned out her pain. Eventurly she relaxed and both lay back on either ends of the bath, both women knew Delia was dialating quickly. Delia put her legs either side of the large bath, she could feel the baby was now fully in her birth canal streching her from the inside. “Can you feel for the head, I think he is right there”. 

Avery nervously went back on her knees and brough her hand toward Delia’s spread legs, through the warm water she slipped a couple of fingers though her folds. “ohhh mmm hmmm” Delia moaned a little as they entered her. Avery was suprised how quickly she felt the hard mass that must be the head. 

She removed her fingers “You’re right, the baby is in your birth canal”.

Another contraction hit Delia, this one was diffrent. It was as if Avery telling her this meant her body was now ready to deliver the child. “Hooooo gaahhhh, hooo hooo HAAAAAAA”. 

This time Avery knew Delia was pushing she put her wet hands on her thighs, ready to catch the baby. With a huge push her folds were parting in reaction, she took in some air and used the contractions as momentom. 

"Gaaaaahhhhhhh hoo hoo naaaagggghhhh" now Delia’s lips were parting for the baby's head, a small teardrop shape forming. But it wasn’t over now the contractions were on top of each other. “Hhhnnnnggggggggh” Delia moaned as the head started to crown. “This is happening so quick, it hurts so much”.

“I know” avery said trying her best to be there for her. Delia kept pushing the head slipping out bit by bit until she felt the head pop out.

"Gaaaahhhhhhhhhh!" Delia bore down, pushing harder than she ever had. She felt her lips widen as the shoulders poped out and the baby slide into Avery’s hands. 

The baby cried loudly and both ladies smiled, knowing the baby boy was fine and had a good set of lungs on him. As they locked eyes, they knew that it would be one hell of an email they would be sending into the office.