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randomshyperson · 9 months

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Shameless - Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: The book club forces Wanda to go to a bookstore in downtown Westview, where she meets you. Or the one where Wanda tries a new hobby and finds a reason to end her marriage.

Warnings: (+16), some dirty implications but nothing explicit, mentions of make-out, no cheating (but intent), strangers to lovers, milf-horny wanda, compulsory heterosexuality and mentions of homophobia, an attempt at the 80s scene, some angst but a happy ending. | Words: 7.525k

A/N-> I don’t know where this came from.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

The book club had been Agatha's idea.

A harmless little pastime is how she would describe it during the weekly community meeting. Some short and simple speech about how modern housewives needed distractions while their husbands were at work and the kids were at school, anything that would please the ears of the preacher and the town council enough for the men to ignore the remnants of card games or bottles of alcohol that appeared whenever Agatha organized any “ladies' meetings” - as she liked to describe it.

Wanda and almost all the other women were happy to participate - and that is, almost all of them since Dorothy had not joined anything Agatha was involved in for two years now, ever since the blonde refused to visit the nightclub that was inaugurated downtown, commenting that it was not a suitable place for family ladies, and in Wanda's opinion, missing out on one of the most fun evenings she had ever had.

This time, Agatha's new invention was weekly meetings of a book club, which for the older woman, was the perfect excuse to get away from her husband Ralph and his strong odor of cheap beer and their grumpy son who apparently didn't know how to take glasses to the sink. Two hours a week to stay off chores and focus on her friends, and as a bonus, to read and discuss the literature she would have had access to if higher education was something women were encouraged to earn.

Wanda was one of the few in the quiet Westview who had a degree - It had been a shared dream of her and her mother Natalya, who wished to see both her children off to college and it was a fortunate thing that it happened before her sad passing. The most unfair thing about that was that despite her mother's wishes for Wanda’s independence, once Natalya was gone, all that Erik did was encourage her to leave college and look for a husband, the last of which Wanda eventually gave in to in her senior year. Jarvis Vision Stark was a couple of years older than her and was completing his degree in Engineering, and to almost everyone in her class, that had to be true love. He was a good-looking young man, with a good family and education, and he seemed so in love with her. With that in mind, Wanda tried to love Vision with the same intensity that he said he did, but with the passing of the years, and the arrival of the children, the fantasy dissolved into a boring routine and conformism.

Despite those issues, her twins, Billy and Tommy, were her most precious treasure. And they were also the only thing keeping her marriage on track, Wanda dared to think.

Getting a divorce, in the traditional Christian-Jewish community of Westview, would be a scandal under any circumstances. Sometimes, when she ventured to imagine being someone with this kind of courage, Wanda could only imagine the look of disappointment on her father's face when he heard the news, and the thought was soon shoved away like dirty clothes in the washing machine.

At least Wanda had Agatha. Her long-time, trusting friend, with whom she could share torments like this, and complain about slack-jawed, obstinate husbands.

And there was also now the book club.

Westview only had one library close to home, and well, Agatha had been clear in her instructions. No cheap or religious literature, she warned with a cigarette between her lips, gesturing with one hand when one of the girls asked about what the first meeting would be like.

"Bring something interesting." Agatha suddenly gave a little smile, the same kind when she managed to bring a bottle of liquor hidden away for the Saturday church service. "Scandalous, if you dare."

They all sighed in surprise, complicit for the whole thing. Some began to whisper among themselves, but Wanda knew what she would have to do. There was nothing of the sort in Westview, so she would have to leave the residential neighborhood.

She woke up on Tuesday, dropped the kids off at school, and made breakfast. for Vision, who didn't even bother to say thank you, not happy to hear that Wanda was going out, but courteous enough to offer her a ride, which she declined almost immediately. She had the distinct impression that it was a way of being monitored, and she couldn't bear to deal with it when she was already so nervous.

Taking the bus downtown, she went straight to the new commercial village of Westview. She caught a glimpse of some neighbors, who worked in the local shops but didn't say hello to any of them.

She walked until she found a bookstore, a small, old building with carts full of books at the door and advertisements that, although scattered and colorful, were easy to understand. It was a very cozy place, which made Wanda smile for a quick fantasy about having tried to work with books after her graduation if she hadn't been pregnant at the time.

A bell rang when she entered, but no one greeted her for the first few minutes she was inside. It gave her just enough time to go to one of the nearest bookshelves and run her fingers through the rows of books, a smile playing on her lips.

"Didn't you hear the door, Pchelka (little bee)?" A voice caught her attention, and Wanda turned, trying to see between the shelves. At a glance, short, red hair attracted her eye, and she blinked to find the face of a very pretty woman offering her a gentle smile. "One minute, sweetheart. We'll be right with you."

Wanda opened her mouth to say she wasn't in a hurry, sympathetic to the number of books the redhead was carrying, but in the next second, the woman disappeared between the columns and she didn’t have a chance to say anything at all.

The bookstore remained empty and silent for another half minute, but once Wanda made mention of turning her attention back to the books behind her, a ladder opened from the ceiling, and out of it jumped a figure in an apron, and out of instinct, Wanda hopped away.

"So sorry for the scare, Miss." You apologized with a soft chuckle at the scene, closing the attic in a single motion and running your hands through your hair and shoulders in an effort to blow off some of the dust. "We are reviewing the inventory. How can I be of assistance?"

Her breath caught in her throat at the image of your gentle and playful smile. She felt so foolish. In all her 32 years, when was the last time she had been tongue-tied, if ever?

You raised one of your eyebrows, and repeated the question, bringing a new color to her cheeks. Wanda broke into a clumsy giggle at the same second.

"Sorry, you caught me by surprise." She managed to cover it up, adjusting a lock of her hair and then moving her hands to smooth her clothes, suddenly unsure what to do with herself. "I’m…looking for a book."

You cracked another smile, finding the scene quite amusing. This older, breathtaking woman, all shy and adorable around you. "Well, we have lots of those." You teased, and Wanda felt her stomach do a complete turn at the sound of your raspy giggle. Maybe she was getting sick. Yeah, that would explain her body’s out-of-control reactions. "What are you looking for, or perhaps a name...?"

"Wanda." She interrupts, and you frown in confusion. Taking a deep breath, she holds out her hand. "I am Wanda Maximoff."

Despite the strangeness of the moment and the fact that she didn't understand that you wanted the name of the book and not hers, you smiled warmly and repeated the gesture. Wanda has never hated work gloves as she does now, a curiosity burning to know what your skin would feel like on hers, the thought bringing such a strong color to her ears that she needs to look away immediately, barely catching the name that you mention next.

She clears her throat, and adds: "I'm actually joining a book club and the only guidance we had was to bring something interesting." And she risks looking you in the eye to add. "Scandalous."

You find it funny, even adorable if you could put it that way. Maybe it's because of the color of her face when she says it. Or maybe it's because these college students - Wanda judges you to be one for your apparent age - are more modern than she would have been and don't bother with this sort of subject.

"Hm, I think I can help with that." You retort with a thoughtful expression, beckoning for Wanda to follow you deeper into the store and she does so only after taking a deep breath.

The columns of poetry make her bite her lip in curiosity, some of the names Wanda recognizes from her own years as a student, but it is only when you are in the last aisle with the little gold plaque labeled "Sapphic Literature" that Wanda thinks she has stopped breathing.

You do everything very calmly. Climbing up one of the stairs, and taking some time to read the titles, you take a small book from one of the higher shelves and walk back to Wanda, whose face is almost Natasha's hair color now.

With a smile, you hold out the book, but don't let go, holding the item as she does.

"There's nothing more scandalous than this for a small town like Westview." You say. "But if it's too much, Miss Maximoff, I can always suggest something different. You know, like stuff about the first war or Russian philosophy..."

"N-no, this is fine." She interrupts you, grabbing the book strongly and pulling it close to her chest. You don't know if she's trying to hide it or keep it from fleeing, but it makes you chuckle. "Thanks for the help."

"No problem." You reply, studying that face for a moment. Wanda swallows dry but holds your gaze. You clear your throat as soon as you realize you're staring. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

She almost sighs, her knees going weak at just the line her thoughts take. Shaking her head, she offers you a small smile. "No, that will be all." She says and practically runs off to the edge of the store, back to the cashier.

The redheaded woman is taking care of the payment now, and Wanda doesn't notice the look you exchange with her because she's too busy sensing your presence coming behind her.

"Excuse me, Miss Maximoff, let me wrap this up for you." Your whisper near her ear makes her shudder from head to toe, and it is fortunate that you grab the book from her as Wanda is sure she would have dropped it on the floor.

You walking away is the only reason Wanda's legs stop shaking.

"Good choice, ma'am." Commented the attendant as soon as you put the book on the counter to be scanned. Wanda noticed the small badge spelled out in silver letters "Natasha" stuck to her apron. "We are also fond of sapphic literature around here." She added with a complicit smile. Wanda didn't understand why it seemed like a code for something, she was too distracted by the movements of your hands storing the book in a pretty bag. She remembers forcing a smile, paying with trembling fingers and practically running out of the bookstore, feeling your gaze burning into her back.

The bell made another noise on the way out, and with the bookstore empty, Natasha's laughter filled the air.

"How do you always find our people?" Questioned the other impressed, but you laughed short, shrugging.

"I won't deny that I have this ability, but in this case, how can you say? You saw her for like, three seconds."

Natasha shook her head, checking the cashier. "Oh, please, she was eye-fucking you this whole three seconds.” Declared the redhead, ignoring your protest at her choice of words. "Besides, it's kind of obvious by her not freaking out over sapphic poetry, isn't it?"

You sigh, somewhat disbelieving. "I don't know, people are more friendly nowadays." You try, but Natasha gestures away as if she doesn't agree.

"Your problem is that you're too naive, Parker." Retorted the redhead with an amused expression. "Women like me, experienced not old, are not so friendly. We come from different times, different generations. You couldn't go around reading gay literature anywhere, hardly found any to be fair. If she wasn't like us, she would have caused a scene at the mere suggestion."

"Alright, Romanoff, I believe you." You grumbled begrudgingly while grabbing one of the last boxes to be checked off the desk. "But that doesn't mean she was interested in me." You stated, but Nat snorted incredulously.

"I bet you five bucks she'll be back next week!" Retorted the redhead, but you only chuckled, letting her increase the bet as the distance grew.

-&-

A tense silence grew with every second in the crowded room.

Wanda sat there, almost not breathing until she finally realized what she had just done. Read. The room began to spin next. She gripped the pages hard enough to wreck the book in her lap, but just as panic was about to overwhelm her, someone sighed loudly.

"Well, that was definitely scandalous." It was Monica, and the good humor of the comment made the room explode into little giggles.

The girls began commenting among themselves excitedly in the same second, some still somewhat hesitant and embarrassed, but definitely thrilled about the whole thing. Wanda felt a gentle hand on the back of her back, through the exposed part of the plastic chair.

"Just breathe, Wanda, everything's fine." It was Agatha, who was still sitting next to her. Who didn't hate her for reading a passage from Emily Dickinson in the middle of the book club, who was still her best friend. Wanda only managed to mumble a weak, whiny yes, and Agatha looked at her with concern before announcing to the entire room that they would take a break before the next reading. Wanda doesn't remember getting up, but she didn't breathe normally again until on the outside balcony of the Harkness Residence. "Here, honey."

The glass of water helped, and Wanda had just returned it to Agatha when the window door opened again. It was Monica, with an almost proud smile, who spoke only after sliding the glass door closed again.

"I have to say, Wanda, you have guts." Her friend joked, and Wanda grimaced.

"What...?"

"I didn't know there were more of us in Westview, Aggie. You could have told me." Monica complained to the older woman, giving Agatha's arm a gentle pat. But the woman just smiled awkwardly, looking at Wanda as if she were seeing her for the first time.

"She never mentioned it, I'm afraid." Agatha commented, and Wanda felt like she might throw up at any moment. "Hey, breathe honey. It's okay, all right? You're safe with us."

But Wanda put a hand over her chest, feeling it tighten. "My god, what I just did... They will tell my husband... my father will hear about it-"

"Hey, Wanda, here. Focus on me, darling, breathe." Agatha grabbed her hands, trying to help her control the panic and tears that began to roll down her face. "Honey, it was just a poem. Nothing is going to happen, okay, you just brought what I asked for, and none of them minded. Nothing has changed, now breathe. You're safe, Wanda."

“Of course, I would ruin the book club.” was the first thought she had hours later when she woke up before the time to pick the boys up from soccer. She didn't have to do it though - Agatha left a little note saying that she had taken care of everything and wished her rest.

Monica drove her home so that Agatha could close the meeting without raising any more suspicions about Maximoff's state, who had had a panic attack because of a poem read aloud. If the other neighbors knew, it would create chatter, and Wanda simply couldn't handle that.

Monica left her safe and sound in her house, wrapped in blankets, and didn't mind staying until Wanda cried herself to sleep. And Wanda woke up alone, feeling worse than before as if a very embarrassing secret had been revealed to the world and was mocking her outside the bedroom walls.

But her children were back in no time, and as they rushed to the shower, she went to thank a very concerned Agatha Harkness.

"Are you feeling better, sweetheart?" Asked her friend gently holding her arm. Wanda didn't meet her eyes, nodding.

"Thank you for dropping the boys off." Murmured her quietly, swallowing before adding. "And for earlier. I didn't mean to bring any trouble."

Agatha gripped her with more determination. "Listen here, Wanda, it was no trouble at all, okay?" Assured the woman, who although in a serious tone, still had very gentle eyes. "You are my best friend, Wanda Maximoff. Nothing will ever change the care and love I feel for you. When you're ready to talk about today, about this part of you, I'll be here. And Monica too. You are not alone, honey. You never have been." There was a different complicity in the last sentence, but Wanda only sighed in relief, nodding and finally relaxing when Agatha hugged her.

She thanked her again between silent tears and Agatha only left when she was sure Wanda believed her words.

-&-

It took Wanda three weeks to return to the store. Not that you were counting, or thinking every day about the middle-aged woman who had a gay panic attack with your poor attempt at service. Not that Natasha didn't shut up about it.

And as luck would have it, you were alone in the store because your boss, who you also called a friend, was out picking up some orders and her sister at the University of New York, and well, it had been a slow day until the doorbell rang in the early afternoon and it was Wanda.

"You again." That was the first you managed to say, almost sighing and hating how affected it sounded. Luckily, Wanda seemed equally happy and relieved to see you again.

"Hello." She greeted, repeating last week's gesture of adjusting a lock of her hair. She looked different from before, more elegant, with a dark jeans jacket expensive enough to have come out of a magazine, and a dress underneath that made you swallow dry.

You had no idea how long she spent in front of the mirror trying to choose the right outfit with two neighbors weighing her choices.

Trying to play it cool and sound as casual as possible, you add: "Wanda Maximoff from the book club, right? Did they like the poems?"

She hesitated in a nervous smile, looking around as if to check if there were no other customers and satisfied with the distant presence of a boy in the Vinyl's Discs area and a lady further down the hall, as she practically whispered, "You were right. It was scandalous enough for Westview." She teased, managing to get a short laugh out of you that made her stomach do flips and her cheeks turn a rosy hue. It was decided, she wanted to hear the sound again and would do anything to be the one to make you laugh.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that." You retort with a little smile. "I hope you enjoyed the book too, though." Your addiction makes Wanda's heart skip a beat. So you cared if she was the person who enjoyed the reading, it wasn't all about a professional suggestion on how to make an impact on the book club as she presumed. Well, Agatha was right.

Risking, probably everything, Wanda commented: "Oh, I definitely loved the reading. I had a good time imagining the scenarios she described." Despite the confidence in saying it, she was blushing, and the way she spoke as if a secret between the two of you and with your knowledge of how erotic Emily Dickinson's stories were, was the reason you knock over half the stack of books you were trying to organize onto the floor.

The noise attracted the attention of the other customers, but you forced a smile and gestured that everything was fine before you ducked down, quickly beginning to pick everything up while Wanda looked at you with a certain amusement, as if she had just confirmed a theory.

"Sorry. You caught me off guard." You mutter in embarrassment, and Wanda chuckles, ducking down as well. She helps you with the last of the fallen books, and in the gesture of returning them, your hands rub together and the whole world stops for a second. Just long enough for you to look at her, and then to step away at once, clearing your throat. Wanda does the same, and before you have a chance to say anything, the record customer interrupts you.

It has to be the most annoying sale you've ever made. He stalls you for long minutes, and all you can do is watch out of the corner of your eye as Wanda slips further into the back of the bookstore, and you lose sight of her. To make matters worse, when the man finally leaves, familiar vehicle parks in the back of the store, and less than five minutes later, two figures with heavy boxes appear.

Yelena has gotten a haircut, and you have a moment of shock to deal with that. The next, she is making a terrible impression on the other customer in the store, the cookbook lady, who immediately grimaces as soon as your friend practically jumps on you. Whether it's the display of affection or Yelena's tattoos and rebellious posture, the woman leaves the store muttering lowly.

You pay no attention to this, grinning as you match Yelena's hug before she lets go of you.

"сука, next time you lock up the semester, at least stop at the dorm to smoke with us!" Complained your friend as she leaned on the counter where she had left her magazine supply box. Natasha dropped hers with a tired grunt, and once the books were secured, she gave a warning slap on the feet that Yelena threatened to put on a shelf.

"There won't be a next time." Natasha answers for you. "She's giving up for good."

Yelena lets out an exclamation, but you grimace. "That hasn't been decided, Romanoff." You defend yourself. "I just needed more time. I think I'll just switch vocations. Again."

Natasha giggled, but Yelena patted you on the shoulder. "Hey, don't look so down. I also think about quitting Fashion every week, and every week I remind myself that no one is as talented as Yelena Belova and the world must not be deprived of my masterpieces." The comment makes you and Natasha laugh and roll your eyes.

The redhead pushes her sister by the shoulders away from the counter. "You said you came here to work, not get in Parker's way. Find something to do-"

"Oh, sure, I'll get us some coffee." Yelena interrupts, letting go of her sister's hands. She points a finger at you. "Cappucino or-"

"Sorry." Wanda's interruption makes the three of you look at her at once. She is intimidated, but only for a split second. Forcing a smile, she raises the book she holds at face height. "I was hoping to take this one."

You take an awkward step forward, and it is enough for Yelena to acquire an expression as if she just has won the lottery. Busy taking care of Wanda's purchase, you don't even notice the sisters' exchange of glances.

As you wrap up the book, you try to disguise the trembling in your hands.

"I couldn't really thank you for the recommendation." Wanda speaks suddenly. You smile awkwardly, holding out the bag with the book on the counter.

"It was no trouble at all, Wanda." But she extends her hand over yours, and your heart stops.

"I really appreciated it, sweetheart." That's what Wanda says, stroking your skin with her thumb. "We have meetings every week, and maybe, you could join us in the next…"

You opened your mouth like a fish, babbling like a fool and completely in shock at the invitation of the most beautiful woman you have ever seen in your life. “I-I…”

"Would love to, of course." Yelena elbowed you so hard that you pulled your hand away from Wanda’s to massage the spot. She offered her worst-intention smile to Wanda, the kind she only used at college parties when she wanted guys who would never have a chance with her to buy her drinks. "She's a first-rate nerd, she'll love it, ma'am. I’m Yelena, by the way. My sister, Natasha, is the owner here. And since we’re talking about hanging out, did you know that we do friends' reunions around here? You're more than welcome to join us."

Wanda adjusts awkwardly, a little surprised. "Oh, what kind of reunion?"

Yelena sighs thoughtfully, shrugging. "Well, I don't want to call it a college party, because even though we're all college students, it's not done on NYU grounds and is reserved for fewer people and the drinking is much better..."

Chuckling short, and adjusting the bag on her wrist, Wanda denies it with her head. "It's a kind invitation, but I think I'm too old for such things."

"What nonsense!" Yelena retorts gesturing indignantly. “ "With all due respect, such a beautiful woman will completely enhance the party. And well, my sister always attends with her friends, and you must be the same age..." You bite the inside of your cheek hard, you love your friend but she is charming and beautiful and is clearly flirting with Wanda to annoy you. Wanda blushes, and Yelena knows she's won this one. Emerald eyes search yours, and you find that the one who might have won is actually you.

"Will you be there?" She asks, and having trouble hiding a smile, you nod. With a sigh, Wanda looks at the expectant blonde beside you. "I think I could show up for a little bit-"

"That's fantastic!" Yelena gets excited, not even waiting for Wanda to confirm before she ducks down on the counter and finds one of the invitations to these parties that Natasha hides near the cashier.

You barely had a chance to say goodbye to Wanda, with Yelena and her party directions, but at least you had confirmation that the woman would be there for the last weekend of the month, the typical date when those meetings were organized. And the realization had you sliding to the floor behind the counter with one hand on your chest.

"My god I think I'm having an anxiety attack-"

"No, that's a gay outburst triggered by a hot milf." Yelena cut in with a roll of her eyes, crossing her arms as she approached you again. "You gonna have to put it together, 'cause we need to pick out what you're going to wear next week, on your hot date with her.”

You're as red as a tomato. "It's not a date! It's a book club!"

Natasha - who hadn't said anything about the interaction until now - burst out laughing, and teased "Hm, that's what young people are calling it these days."

"You two are terrible." You complained embarrassed, shaking your head in disbelief at the giggling sisters. "We don't even know if she's interested."

Natasha chuckled. "Of course she is. Sapphic poetry the first week, and now she comes back just to stroke your hand. Yes, Parker, everyone saw that. If that's not interest, I don't know what else to call it."

Sighing in defeat at the sisters' complicit gaze, you stood up again. "Let me get back to work." You grumbled, but still, Yelena followed you with thousands of ideas about what you could wear.

-&-

Book club sessions allow you to get to know Wanda better. And inevitably fall in love with her as you never had with anyone else, at least not at that intensity.

Unfortunately, a meeting full of middle-aged women with a certain willingness to gossip about any subject, especially the unusual friendship of the young college student from downtown with one of the most respectable ladies in the neighborhood put practically a watch on your back. All your moments with Wanda, stolen touches and long glances between snacks and reading verses for the next few weeks came burdened with the worry, especially for her, that the rest of the world could see all too well what was going on between you two.

And there was also the great frustration that in fact, nothing was actually happening. Aside from the undeniable attraction and warm affection you developed for each other, you were just book club buddies. You couldn't even call Wanda a friend, in fact, you wouldn't want to. All you knew about her family was Agatha or Monica telling you, the other was limited to any other subject but this one.

Pretending not to know or just accepting that Wanda had a life beyond the safety of your afternoons together hurt all the same.

Your only hope of progress for what was happening came at the end of the month, with the arrival of the reunion date between your friends. It was the most intimate event Wanda could attend and you had a feeling there would be no going back for whatever might happen that night.

The Thunderbolts was what the group of friends you and Yelena were part of called themselves since the beginning of college. And unlike Peter and Kate, or even the freshmen, America and Kamala, who were all set on what profession they would follow after graduation, you had already dropped three courses in total. Starting out in medical school as your parents would have liked, switching to applied biology with Peter until you tried computer science with America, you finally dropped out to work with books with Natasha. It was the closest thing to happiness, even if it meant lousy pay.

But ignoring this, what was certain about you and the Thunderbolts was that you guys knew how to throw a decent party.

The loud music didn't escape much from the top floor of the store because two years ago Natasha had gotten glassware with sound isolation for the rehearsals of the Red Skulls - her ex-girlfriend Carol Danvers' rock band - that kept neighbors from calling the police.

The drinking was taken care of by Natasha's friends, and well, it was always good stuff. There was also plenty of food and lots of weed, grown naturally in T'Challa's private greenhouses.

It was a college party, there was no denying it, but still, you went up to the roof, waiting for a woman twice your age who had a wedding ring mark on her finger.

Wanda almost didn't show up, and when she did, she was accompanied by a very beautiful woman.

Natasha also had a thing for older women and was half drunk, a dangerous combination. Since Wanda was your flirt, the Romanoff wasted no time in approaching the other one, who introduced herself as Agatha Harkness and was more than happy to accompany the redhead on her tour of the studio apartment that made up the second and third floors of the bookstore.

You were trying to remain calm and mannerly around Wanda, but it was almost impossible not to become a mess when she was absurdly gorgeous in her half-open social shirt, smelling fucking good from yards away.

As the night wore on and you both struggled to stay included in conversations with other people you knew - from Steve and his military school stories to Kate and her hilarious jokes - you began to wonder whether you were getting drunk on beer or on Wanda's perfume in your senses.

Fleeing back to the roof in the hopes of getting some air, you were about to consider leaving the party when Wanda found you again.

"I lost you for a second down there." She commented as she approached, hugging her body to the cold night around you. Your natural instinct would be to take off your jacket, but it suddenly seemed too intimate.

"Now you've found me." You returned with a small smile, glancing at her when she got close enough, only to find that she was already looking at you.

Swallowing dryly, you grew shy about her intense gaze and shifted to the hands she was smoothing on the ledge beside you. Wanda just stood there, close enough to touch until she leaned in a little to whisper.

"Did I do something to upset you? You're hiding from me."

Closing your eyes for a moment, you sighed before risking a look at her. "Agatha told me about your marriage." You state sincerely, and Wanda swallows dryly. "I'm not stupid, and I'm no good with games either. There's a husband, so I just won’t get involved. I'll only get hurt-"

"I'm very attracted to you." Wanda cut in, also decreasing the distance between your faces. Your heart simply stops and your breath catches. If she kissed you now, you'd probably say thank you. With a sigh, Wanda brings a hand to the collar of your shirt, pushing you away gently as a warning to herself. "She didn't lie. Agatha. I have a family, children, and a husband."

It was like a bucket of cold water on your head. But Wanda didn't let you move, keeping her grip on your shirt, and this was probably the only thing holding your tears too.

"I haven't stopped thinking about you since we met." She continues to confess as affected as you are, her green eyes desperate and hopeful. "I haven't felt this way in such a long time..."

But you choked, pulling away. "I don't want to be some game, Wanda. Some secret. And I hate to share-"

"Oh, darling we're so alike." She interrupted a short, possessive chuckle, grabbing your wrist and putting your arm around her before you could move further. The attraction was almost liquid over your limbs, pulling you towards her and you gasped, pressing your face into her collarbone before you lost control for good and take her for yourself in this roof, damn the consequences. "I thought your friend Yelena was more. My skin itched at the thought of her touching you, I almost came back here and burned the entire bookstore." She confessed in your ear as she slipped her arm around your shoulders to hug you. The intense embrace increased your heart rate, and it didn't help that Wanda was playing with the lobe of your ear between her teeth.

"Stop saying things like that or I just might..."

"What? Tell me what you’ll do with me." Wanda challenges equally affected and you lose it, digging your teeth into her collarbone and sucking hard. She whimpers, knees buckling as her hips thrust up towards yours, but all you do is force her back against the edge, your firm hands on her waist keeping her from gridding herself on you as she wants to.

"I could fuck you right here, Wanda. Send you home smelling of dirty sex." You assure her darkly, your hands playing dangerously on the limits of her blouse. All Wanda does is groan rusky in your ear, wishing you would do as you say. “I bet you’ve waiting for me to.”

The smug phrase almost takes her sanity completely: Wanda grunts needily, trying to grab your wrist and force your hand between her legs, but you pull away hard, leaving her a slack mess trying to balance on wobbly legs with the help of the wall.

"I won’t be your mistress, Wanda Maximoff." You warn hoarsely, yet determined. You adjust your messy hair. "Sorry, but this little game of ours ends tonight."

Wanda hesitates, biting her lip. You hold up your hands, to point at the ring finger, reminding her of her condition and in a way, mocking her as well. Wanda hates the way she feels herself throb between her legs because of your smirk.

She thinks she would have gone after you if Agatha hadn't appeared on the roof, reminding her with a certain irony that it was time for “respectable ladies” to go home.

In the car, her friend noticed her quiet, sulky posture.

"Did that girl say anything to spoil your evening, dear?" Harkness asked in a mixture of curiosity and concern, and all Wanda could do was let out a wry laugh, one hand adjusting her hair.

"No, Aggie." Wanda retorted sincerely. "I'm more sure than before about what I told you last week."

Agatha hummed in understanding, remaining silent for a long moment of thought. As she passed a sign toward the residential neighborhood of Westview, she spoke:

"I know a lawyer. Miss Walters. Divorce specialist." She began, ignoring the tense posture the other had acquired. “Former family friend, who always said that if I called, she would give me a special discount. Ralph owns the house, so splitting from him would have meant goodbye to Westview, and well, he never bothered me enough to lose you."

Wanda's eyes widen as she understands what her friend is saying, and she stares at her with tears in her eyes. But Agatha smiles through the mirror reflection, shrugging.

"Nicholas may be a difficult boy, but he also deserved to have a mother around." She continues. "And we have fun, you and me and the girls, don't we darling?"

Wanda agrees tearfully, nodding. Agatha chuckles, making the last turn and the landscape becomes several little houses alike.

"Just make a decision while you have time, dear." She continues a bit more hurriedly, stealing glances at the houses that still have lights on. "That beautiful woman today, Natasha, reminded me of a youth I sacrificed. I am old, Wanda. Affairs are fun, but I no longer have time to start a life with someone I really care about. You do, and you don't even have to. You have a chance to be with someone you really feel passionate about, if only for a week."

Agatha parked the car, and the porch light came on. Vision was waiting for her at the door, a half-stern expression due to the exit he didn't agree with - An unusual pastime for a family lady, they had discussed before she left.

With a sigh, she said goodbye to Agatha and got out of the car. Jennifer Walters' phone card was in her pants pocket.

It could take four to five weeks of staring at the bookstore doorbell to finally see the face you wanted to see enter that bookstore. You would be surprised enough that Wanda looked even more beautiful since the last time you saw her, and that this almost made you lose your balance on the ladder you had climbed to organize books on the top shelf.

This time Wanda would ask for a book in the law section, just for the entertainment of studying your reaction when, after demanding that you wait for her to find what she was looking for, she would press a book on divorce against your chest. Wanda would have just over five seconds for you to understand what she was getting at, before she was pressed into the shelf and grabbed by the thighs to be lifted into the air, your mouth glued to hers and her legs locked around you.

The messiest, hottest make-out session she never had as a teenager, but it would make her feel like one again. Hands determined and curious as your tongue ripped out sounds inappropriate for a bookstore, until the bell rang again, and you had to part in gasping breaths.

Wanda would grab your shirt collar before you could go to meet the customer in the lobby to ask you out on a date. On the first date, you could talk about her children, about how the joint custody was going to work out, and how much time you would have to get to know each other. On the second you could go out to eat, and on the third Wanda would feel your fingers on the back seat of the car on the drive home.

Wanda imagined all this on the way, twisting the lawyer's paper between her fingers.

"Welcome home, Wanda." Vision greeted her, giving her room to enter. Wanda forces a smile, as she removes her hand from her pocket to pass her arm around her spouse for what would probably be the last hug she would give him as his wife. “Did you have fun?”

“I did.”

-&-

It's your night shift.

Natasha has a habit of closing early on weekdays, with the exception of Fridays where she allows reading shifts for all the sleepless geeks, as she calls all the late readers who come to the bookstore after six in the evening.

The day has been quiet so far, and well, you've been too depressed for the past weeks since you decided to move on and get over Wanda Maximoff.

So of course when the bell rings and you lift your eyes from a superhero comic, it's her at the door.

A weary sigh escapes you at the almost apologetic expression of the woman fidgeting with her scarf, and without giving her some other reaction, you lower your eyes again.

"Good evening, Y/N." She greets politely, her voice hoarse.

Turning the page, as if actually reading the words crammed in front of you, you retort, " We're closing soon, so make it quick."

A smile plays on her lips at your response. "Well, I guess that'll be up to you." She retorts, and you frown in confusion, looking up only to watch Wanda turn the sign from open to closed, and lock the door.

You feel your face warm from the lust glint her eyes acquire, but you manage to raise an eyebrow.

"Don't tell me you came all this way to murder me."

She chuckles playfully, approaching at a slow pace while her hands work to remove her coat and leave it on top of one of the endless stacks of books in the reception area. "Is the place empty?"

You bite your lip as she puts on a show to remove her gloves, almost losing the train of thought. "Not really." You mumble, catching the other woman's brief disappointment and hesitation. Closing the comics in your lap to store them under the counter, you clear your throat. "There's an employee area behind this door." You let her know in a husky tone, and Wanda glances behind your shoulder for a moment before stepping around the counter.

You hold your breath at having her so close now, but she doesn't break the short distance between your faces, leaning in to touch the doorknob. You take a deep breath, and her free hand seeks yours in your lap.

She entwines your fingers together and it takes you a full moment to notice the ring missing in hers. Wanda smiles when she realizes you understand.

"I signed the papers this morning." She whispers it as a secret between you, stroking the back of your hand with her thumb and enjoying the way your skin feels warm. "I was going to write, to let you know, but I decided I wanted you to have me entirely."

You swallow dry, shuddering at the confession. "Oh, that's... nice to know." It's all you manage for the moment, surprised you can still hear her speak when your heart is so loud in your own ear drums. Wanda bites back a mischievous smile and opens the door.

"Come, you can show me how much you appreciate my fairness."

You feel your face burn and grunt in embarrassment. "You're so full of yourself." You mumble, not resisting the tug she gives to get you inside.

Barely inside when the door closes behind you, your back hits the wood and desperate hands tug your uniform jacket open. Wanda's gasping breaths mingle with yours as she kisses you roughly.

Her hands work at your belt, but you slow the frantic pace to something so intense and intimate that Wanda melts against you, a moment later green eyes staring up at you tearfully.

"I didn't lie." You begin to explain hoarsely. "There are three customers in the café. They'll notice if we... There's no rush, Wanda." You smile at her tenderly, your hands on her cheeks. "Have dinner with me tonight. You can walk me home."

Her eyes sparkle with happiness, and Wanda nods in agreement, kissing you as a promise. One she will never be ashamed to fulfill, doesn't matter if not even the law allows it.

#elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel imagines #wanda maximoff oneshots #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader

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ak4e7a · 3 months

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i hate valentine’s day — boyfriend!hoon x reader

It's pretty self-explanatory. But one person is determined to change your mind.

wc: 2.1k (this was supposed to be short and then i blinked and now i’m here)

cw: fluff, slight angst if you read it sideways i guess, smut, virgin!reader, unprotected sex, lots of pet names bc hoon is a loverboy end of story

author's note: WHEEWWW my first full drabble on here! i hope y'all enjoy and please please please let me know if you do <3 likes and comments and reblogs are super appreciated ♡ happy Valentine's Day!

It’s just a capitalist holiday designed to sell flowers and chocolates and give people a reason to start a fight in their already unhappy relationship. Your friends had heard you say that time and time again, year after year, and they were almost wholeheartedly convinced that you really did not enjoy a holiday centered around love.

The truth, however, was the opposite. You loved it—the pink hearts, the stuffed animals, the candy, the red roses, the romantic gestures. You were just… bitter that you’d been spending all of the past Valentine’s days with a card and a bar of your favorite chocolate that your mom would either give to you in person or mail to your apartment once you’d moved out for college.

You didn’t want to be one of those people that liked Valentine’s Day with a nonchalance about themselves and droned on and on about how it could also be interpreted as a day of “self-love”. You could do a lot of self-love with a rose toy and an hour of uninterrupted time locked in your room. But a rose toy wouldn’t be able to laugh at a rom-com with you, and you’d probably get looked at funny if you walked around the mall holding it in your hand for everyone to gawk at.

Did you hate seeing happy couples? Maybe.

Did that hate go away once you found yourself somehow in a relationship with the quiet boy from your statistics class? The boy who you, at first, thought seemed cold and uninterested in anything but the assignments? Just a little bit.

You told Sunghoon last week that he didn’t have to do anything, that he shouldn’t waste his paycheck from his part-time campus job on gifts when it wasn’t even Christmas or your birthday, and he’d already gotten you something for your 100 day anniversary a month ago, anyways. You hammered it home with the same speech that you’d given your friends since you learned what capitalism was.

And all he did was nod his head with a thoughtful, “Hmm,” and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose before you turned as red as the roses you’d hope he’d still get you anyways and went back to typing away at your laptop, allowing the white noise of the library to drown out your racing thoughts.

Now it’s the morning of the 14th, and you wake up in your bed, alone. You sigh, maybe Sunghoon had gone home already even though neither of you have a class today. Trudging to the bathroom, you brush your teeth and wash your face before returning to bed to sulk and stare at the wall.

You mentally kicked yourself, this was your fault, why did you tell your first and only boyfriend you didn’t give a shit about Valentine’s Day—a holiday primarily meant for couples? Now, if you were lucky and your relationship happens to last until next year, would the next Valentine’s Day also go uncelebrated? What about your one-year anniversary? What about—

And then your door creaks open. And you scream.

Sunghoon screams, too, almost dropping the mountain of bags he’s holding.

“Why are you screaming?” Sunghoon yells, stumbling to regain his balance as he walks towards the bed. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Because I was under the assumption that I was alone in the house!” you exclaim, although now your fear is mixed with excitement as you scan his muscled arms wrapped around all the stuff he’s carrying.

“Oh,” he says, more quiet now. “You thought I left and wouldn’t come back?”

“Yeah,” you reply sheepishly. “I thought… I thought…”

“That I wouldn’t do anything for Valentine’s Day just because you went on that long-ass tirade in the library last week?”

You frown, eyebrows knitted together. But you’re not upset at him, no, the entire reason you let yourself fall for him was because he was always so understanding. You could feel yourself falling even more because he didn’t fall for your pathetic attempt at being a “chill, low-maintenance” girlfriend. “I don’t deserve you,” you say.

Sunghoon sets the bags on the rug beside your bed and sits beside you, immediately pulling you into his embrace. “That’s not true. You put up with a loser like me.”

“Hey,” you sniffle. “You’re my loser. Which makes you not-a-loser.”

“Alright,” he chuckles. “Whatever you say.”

You like him. You like him so much. You like the way he dresses (including his glasses), you like every single different cologne he uses, you like the way his hair falls in his face, you like the way he scrunches his nose when you offer him a bite of your mint choco ice cream, you like the way he accepts the chocolate toothpaste taste because it makes you happy to share snacks with him. You like the way he switches to his wired earphones instead of his big headphones when he studies with you so you can listen to music with him when you study. You like him. You like him a lot. In fact, you—

“I love you,” you blurt out, and the wide-eyed look he gives you makes you slap your hand over your mouth in some sort of vain attempt to get the words back in where they came from.

But just like toothpaste, once it’s squeezed out of the tube, you can’t put it back in.

Unless, of course, you had a syringe or a pipette or something but that’s neither here nor there, because you just told Park Sunghoon, your former statistics partner, Park Sunghoon, the best part-time barista on campus, Park Sunghoon, your (somewhat) new boyfriend, that you love him for the first time.

And to make it extra corny, you’ve told him on Valentine’s Day, the day you’ve adamantly lied about hating.

Sunghoon finally grins, his pearly white teeth (that you also like so much) on full display. “I knew it.”

“What?”

“I knew you liked Valentine’s Day, you little liar,” he teases, playfully flicking your forehead.

“Ugh,” you groan, falling back on your pillows. “Go home for real this time if you’re going to gloat.”

Sunghoon crawls over you, his face inches away from yours. “For the record, though, I love you, too. Lies and all.”

“Sunghoon,” you whine, trying to push at his chest. “Stop embarrassing me!”

“Sorry, sorry.” As he presses apologetic kisses to your cheek, you feel something else press against your leg.

“Hoon,” you repeat. “Are you seriously hard right now?”

“Yeah, ‘cause my girlfriend just told me she loves me.”

You smile. “Really? You’re easier than I—”

He shuts you up with a kiss. Then two. Then three. Then four. Then finally it evolves into a full-on makeout session, with your hands tangled in his hair and his hips nestled between your thighs. His glasses are on your nightstand; he’d taken them off after they were getting in his way of kissing you.

“Want it,” you murmur, as if you didn’t just tease your boyfriend for being easy to turn on. “Wanna do it...”

You figure since you’ve already confessed your feelings, losing your virginity to your boyfriend who you’re definitely madly in love with is a good idea. (Spoiler: it is.)

Now he hovers over you, looking at you with hearts in his eyes. "Relax for me, okay, baby? It's gonna hurt a little bit. Just say the word and I'll stop."

"O-okay, Hoonie."

He plants a soft kiss on your forehead before taking his shaft in his hand, pumping it twice before lining it up with your entrance. "Gonna put my cock in you now, baby... oh... ah, fuck... 's better than I imagined... So tight, even after I've prepped you... You're squeezing around my tip, you okay, sweetheart?"

You nod, biting your lip as he stretches you with his thick girth. "'M okay, Hoonie, 's just big, so big..."

"You're being such a good girl for me, baby. 'M gonna push it all the way inside you now, okay? Just breathe." One of his hands skims down your body, reaching in between you two to stroke at your clit. The pleasurable friction against your nerves dulls out the pain of him breaking your hymen, but you cry out nonetheless.

"Ah! Hoonie, it hurts," you whimper, your chest heaving and nails digging into his back.

"'M sorry, baby, we can stop now if you want. I don't mind—"

"No!! No, please, just... don't move yet, please? Need t'get used to—fuck—you inside..."

"Alright, baby. I'll keep still." He kisses your cheek, petting your hair gently. Then he looks down at you, straight into your eyes. He's so beautiful, it's mesmerizing. "You're such a good girl, aren't you? So pretty and perfect for me... you're getting my cock so wet, baby. Want me to make you cum like this? Make you feel better?"

"Y-yes please!"

He leans back until his head is just above where you’re connected, and you watch his abs flex in that position. He spits on your clit, rubbing it in slow, languid circles. Softly, he asks, "you're such a sweet little girl, anything else you want, love?"

You clench around him at the pet name, your entire body flushing with warmth. "Um... can you... um..."

"Oh, I know," he smirks, his free hand moving up to toy with your nipples. "Does it feel good with my cock inside you, baby? Gonna cum while you're stuffed full of me?"

"Yes, so good, Hoonie, thank you!" You squirm a little, unintentionally grinding yourself against his dick, and the movement makes him groan.

"Fuck," he says under his breath. "You're so cute... and you're so hot, you don't even know it... that's it, pretty girl, cum whenever you want. you earned it."

"Hoonie," you keen, back arching off the bed as you orgasm around him. "can you m-move, please?"

"Yeah, baby, you like being stretched by me? Gonna let me fuck you open, sweetheart?"

"Y-yeah... y'can move now, Hoonie."

"God," he chokes out, thrusting shallowly. "You're sucking me in so good, baby." He puts a hand over your lower abdomen, pressing down. "Can you feel me right there?"

You squeal as the tip of his dick rubs firmly against your g-spot. "Y-yes! 'S big, so big, hoonie!"

“You're so tight, princess, gonna make me cum so soon already, fuck, pussy feels like heaven..."

"So... big," you gasp, staring up at him in adoration. He's so handsome.

He reaches down and tenderly cups your cheek before leaning in and kissing you softly. "Taking me like a good girl, baby... 'm I making you feel good?"

“Yes, yes,” you manage to stutter out, legs wrapping around his slender waist.

"Gonna cum... need to pull out, baby, can I cum—fuck! Can I cum on you, baby, please?"

"Yes! Yesyesyes! Cum on me, Hoonie, wanna feel it!"

"Where... where do you want my cum, princess?" he pants, sliding his cock out of you and stroking himself.

"Cum on my pussy, Hoonie!"

He groans, and the two of you look down and watch as he cums right over your core, the milky essence dripping down onto the bed. Despite the mess, he immediately lies down beside you, pulling you into his arms like you’re about to go back to sleep.

You feel good. Maybe better than good. Definitely better than good. You can hear his heartbeat when you rest your head on his chest.

“Aw, fuck,” Sunghoon mutters into the crown of your head. “I think the ice in your drink melted.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I went out to get your gifts from my apartment, and I got you an iced matcha from that one place you like on the way back.”

“I’ll drink it anyways… but you didn’t have to get me any gifts,” you mumble, still trying to stay true to your lie, even though Sunghoon has already seen right through it. But you definitely mean the next sentence. “Just spending the day with you is enough for me.”

“I know, I know. But I wanted to. I never want you to feel like I only do things for you because you ask me to. I want you to know that I do them because I love you.”

Okay. Maybe you really did hate Valentine’s Day before.

But not anymore. You feel good. You feel great. You’re loved, and you’re in love.

You look up at him and he kisses you on the forehead before you repeat, “I love you, too.”

#sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon hard thoughts #sunghoon hard hours #enha smut #🀄️drabbles #sunghoon x reader

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audhdnight · 17 days

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⚠️PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT⚠️

The Queer Liberation Library is, as the name suggests, a digital library centered around queer literature. They offer library cards to anyone in any place, all you need in order to sign up is an email address. Then you can access their catalog online or through apps like Libby.

When I signed up I received an email that said there’s sometimes a waitlist, but I should have my card within a week or else someone would get back to me within that timeframe to explain if I had to wait longer. I ended up getting my card after only a couple of days.

Their website is very accessible and easy to use. My favorite features are the button at the bottom of the screen which lets you switch between light and dark mode, and the Quick Exit banner along the top of the page that doesn’t go away regardless of where you navigate on the site.

This is such an incredible resource and I can’t believe I didn’t know about it until very recently. I want every queer person to know about it! They have accounts on most of the major social media sites (such as tiktok, Instagram, even here on tumblr at @queerliblib). There’s also a place on their website where you can suggest books they should add to their catalog.

After you get your card, I’d suggest the first book you read to be Beyond the Gender Binary by Alok Vaid-Menon. It is a short but powerful little book that I think is an incredibly concise analysis of societal gender-based discrimination, and a great place to start a lot of really important discussions. I listened to the audiobook this morning (it was only an hour long, which is a win for my trash attention span) and I couldn’t believe how good it was for so little page time.

I will absolutely be reading the rest of the Pocket Change Collective (the series which Beyond the Gender Binary is part of) and I can’t wait to see what I’ll learn from them.

#I can’t even describe how much I love this book #queer liberation #queer lit #queer resources #beyond the gender binary #social studies #queer books #nonfiction books #nonbinary author #lgbtq community #lgbtqia #gender discourse #gender equality #gender expression #gender exploration

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another-lost-mc · 1 year

Text

SATAN x gn!Reader 0.7k Words | SFW | Domestic Fluff | Suggestive -> Prompt: Bringing Home Flowers [ Obey Me! Masterlist ]

Exam week is difficult for everyone living at the House of Lamentation. Lucifer and most of his siblings spend as much time arguing about studying as they do actually studying. It's difficult to focus on your own stack of textbooks and papers when there's bickering echoing in the halls outside your room.

It's not a surprise when you study best when the house is quiet—ironically, this usually happens when Mammon and the others sneak away after dinner to go out and do something fun. Satan doesn't join them, even though you know they ask him to.

Meet me in the library after dinner, he tells you instead.

When you arrive, Satan is already seated and organizing his materials on the table in front of him. There's something out of place on the table, though—a small vase filled with violet night-blooming roses, a Devildom flower you're particularly fond of. You've never seen this particular colour of rose before, and there's rarely flowers in the library at all. You set your books down and wait for some sort of explanation. Satan smiles at you across the table, something soft and shy and a little mischievous, but then he taps his pen on your book and you get to work.

When you're done studying, Satan offers to tidy up. He starts putting books back on one of the shelves while you gather your own belongings. "Why don't you take those back to your room?" he suggests, eyes still scanning the shelves in front of him.

You know what he's talking about, and it's his only acknowledgement that the flowers were there at all. You take the vase back to your room—carefully, so it doesn't fall—and set it on your nightstand. The pleasant scent is soothing without being overwhelming. When you wake up, you touch the petals with your fingertips and smile.

It carries on that way for the rest of the week. Every night you join Satan in the library to study, and every night there's a vase of roses on the table between you. After you're done studying together, he shoos you back to your room for a good night's rest—oh, and don't forget the vase, hm?

By the time exams are finished, you have several small vases of roses scattered across your bedroom. Your room has never looked so vibrant or smelled so lovely. Each vase has its own bouquet of different coloured roses—violet, emerald, mauve, azure. You save a couple blooms of each to press for safekeeping.

You're elated the day you get your exam results back the afternoon before the weekend break. You might not have the nearly-flawless scores that Satan does, but his eyes twinkle happily when you offer him the paper so he can see your marks. You're glad you didn't disappoint him.

That evening you go back to your room after dinner and wonder what you'll do now that there's no reason to go to the library and study. You miss his company already. Satan spent so much time with you, and you feel guilty wanting to take up the first evening he's had to himself all week.

The brothers chatter excitedly about their newfound freedom (and ignore Lucifer's pointed comments that some of them barely studied at all). There's some dance at a club that Asmo wants to go to, but you tell him you're not interested. You assume Satan is going with them, though; when they rushed from the table, he excused himself too.

You eat a bit more slowly and go back to your room afterwards. You open the door with a sigh and expect to spend the next couple hours bored and alone. What you don't expect to see is a large, vibrant bouquet on your bedspread—it's filled with all the brilliant shades of roses already decorating your room, plus others you haven't seen before. Even in the Devildom, flowers of these colours aren't exactly easy to come by.

You pick up the small card attached to the bouquet. The note isn't signed, but you already know who sent them.

Congratulations. I'm so proud of you.

I'll be waiting for you in my room, if you'd like to join me.

In your haste to see him, you leave the bouquet on your bed and don't even think about putting them in a vase first.

(When you ask Satan between kisses if you should leave to put the flowers in water, he leads you to his bed and mumbles reassurances against your skin that they'll be fine until morning.)

#obey me satan #obey me x reader #omswd x reader #obey me satan x reader #satan x reader #obey me fluff #omswd fluff #satan fluff #obey me satan x mc #satan x mc #obey me satan x you #satan x you #obey me fanfic #omswd fanfic #x reader #gn!reader #jes.2k event

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 year

Note

Congrats on your unique milestone!!

Hmm how about a micro with Dieter Bravo and Library AU?

Hi lovely! Thank you for this request. This turned out to be something completely different than what I expected, but... I kind of dig the vibe 🤷🏻‍♀️ I have no good explanation for this, but I hope you find some kind of enjoyment in it!

Dieter Bravo x library AU

Fuck Yeah 2222 Sleepover micro drabble request | 800 words | warnings: grumpy, booklover!Dieter, librarian!Reader, I honestly don't know what else to say lol, I can't explain what I've written

Dieter Bravo tosses a dogeared paperback onto the check-out counter at the local library and fishes for his wallet somewhere in the depths of his sweatpants.

You take one look at the familiar cover, and blurt out, ‘That’s my favourite book.’

He hums, not particularly interested in your opinion as he hands you his library card, which you’d personally printed out and laminated when the request from the mayor’s office came through a week ago.

At his dismissive air, you grumble under your breath, ‘It’s way better than that dumpster fire of a book that your movie is adapted from.’

That catches his attention.

Skeptical eyebrows ascend from behind his dark sunglasses. ‘Is that right?’

Having checked out the book, you slide it across the desk to him with a faux sweet smile. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know.’

Dieter comes into the library every Thursday, after filming hours. You want to say you don’t understand why he does, but your workplace is one of two spots that’s still open after six o’clock in your tiny little town, the other being the local diner. And you guess there’s only so much drugs you can do in one’s hotel room before that gets boring too.

The next week, he returns your favourite book and surprises you with a question. ‘Got anything else like this one?’

So back and forth you go. He never tells you if he likes the books. He barely grunts two words at you, the sunglasses always firmly on, ringed fingers tapping on the counter impatiently when you beep the bar codes on his card and the book you recommend that week.

You don’t mind. You work at the library for a reason, and it’s not for a love of talking.

The weeks wind down, and soon there are whispers that his movie will wrap soon, in a couple of weeks. You’re not exactly sad, but you’ve liked sharing your favourite books with this man, whose glitzy, high-flying life is so far removed from yours - and yet your eyes have read the same words, your fingertips have traced the same lines of text, and your hands have turned the same pages.

The penultimate Thursday, when Dieter walks up to your counter, you have a book ready for him.

It’s a departure from the established routine - you usually tell him where the book is, and he goes fetch it himself. He doesn’t question you though, and instead, waits for the blurb that you always give him by way of an introduction. When you shrug wordlessly, he arches an eyebrow at you, but he doesn’t probe.

The next Thursday, you’re down with the flu and you call in sick for the day. If you’re honest with yourself, you’re relieved that you won’t see Dieter for the last time. Filming has wrapped, and you know he’s flying out this evening (there are no secrets in a small town).

Your dinner of canned chicken soup is bubbling on the stove when there’s a knock on your door. Swinging it open, you wonder if you’re high on your flu medicine.

Dieter Bravo is standing on your tiny doorstep, which is barely wide enough to accommodate his broad shoulders. He holds the book in one big hand, his ridiculous rings catching the porch lights. Something is off, and it takes you a few more moments to realise why -

He’s not wearing his sunglasses.

Warm brown eyes hold yours as he says more than asks, ‘You wrote this, didn’t you?’

His confident statement steals the breath right out of your parted lips, and you stare back at him, dumbfounded.

Not a single soul knows. You published the book under a pseudonym with a small press on the other side of the country and made enough to cover your costs, which was more than you expected. Covertly, you ordered a copy for the library, and it’s been checked out exactly three times in the last four years. It’s been sitting in its little spot, gathering dust until you took it off the shelf last week on an impulse.

You realise that Dieter is still waiting for your answer, but the words don’t come. The car sitting on the curb honks, and he smiles ruefully before pushing the book into your limp hands, and walks away without looking back.

When the SUV rounds the corner, your gaze drops to the paperback. His eyes have read the same words that you wrote, his fingertips have traced the same lines of text that you know by heart, his hands have turned the same pages you now fan through -

Something falls out of the book and you just manage to catch it before it flutters out of reach.

It’s a name card with Dieter’s cell number on one side, and on the other, in precarious handwriting that can only be his -

Wanna make a movie?

#fuckyeah2222sleepover #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo drabble #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you

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mangoisms · 8 months

Text

circle k (back to you)

summary: in which you're just the graveyard shift employee at circle k bombarded by vigilantes.

━ chapter eight: where did i go wrong? | read chapter seven

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 3.7k

━ warnings: canon typical violence, blood, etc

━ masterlist

━ a/n: sorry for disappearing! essentially, i started grad school and it is So Much Work. but if you'd like some unnecessary rambles on tim and wally's relationship here and in light of their og meeting in robin (1993), you can also find my thoughts on that here <3

The next day, you don’t hear much from Steph.

She does text you a few times, mostly reassurances and that she’s working to pull something together. You don’t quite understand but she was so convincing the day before, you let it go.

You mostly spend the day—after sleeping in—learning your new phone, excited at having something new and so high-tech to play with. Flash texts you several times during the day. Blurry selfies and equally blurry pictures of Keystone and Central. Even a couple of the New York skyline, as he informs you he decided to drop in and visit a few friends.

You can’t send him much. The clouds that hang in the sky, waiting to pour down on unsuspecting Gothamites at a moment’s notice. The feral cat that hangs out in the alley by your apartments, who you get close enough to to catch mid-hiss. The person on the subway carrying what you suspect to be a possum in their bag but Flash insists is actually an opossum. Whatever the difference is.

There is a difference!

idk sounds made up

You’re from the city. Of course you think that.

ok WOW

you’re blaming my dead parents for where they settled????

Yes.

wow

You go into work in relatively high spirits, considering everything.

Black Bat stops by for some gummy worms and a can of Red Bull and you tease her a bit for it.

“Signal’s influence?”

“Better than coffee.”

“Fair enough.”

Red hasn’t been by, you think, watching her go. Not yesterday and not today, though it’s early. He usually stops by nearly every night, if not for a couple minutes. But nothing specifically decrees that he comes by… You’re just used to it, you suppose, and last night’s absence was noticeable.

There’s still time, though. Maybe you’ll see him later tonight.

Overhead, the AC turns on. They fixed it, along with that electrical issue Red Robin caused last week. It works a little too well, though. These last few days have had you uncomfortably cold, so today, you come armed with a hoodie—Tim’s hoodie, the only piece of clothing you’ve ever managed to steal from him. A bit baggy on him and even more so on you, it’s a pleasant shade of azure blue. One of your more precious possessions since it’s, like you said, the only thing you really have from him. Also a bit of an indulgence right now but… you’re past the point of caring.

Maritza pops by a little while later, waving at you.

“Hey, Mari. Here for a Slurpee?”

“That, and I was wondering if you guys have any pain cream… Abuela’s back is hurting her and we ran out yesterday,” she says, lips pursed, glancing at the aisles.

“Pain cream,” you repeat thoughtfully, stepping around the counter. “We should. Let’s see.”

She follows you to one of the center aisles.

“How’s summer break been so far?” you ask, running your eyes over displays of toothpaste, disposable toothbrushes, and other basic items.

“Boring,” she sighs. “It’s too hot to do anything.”

You chuckle, tucking your hands in the pocket of Tim’s hoodie; your fingers are cold. They always seem to be. “Books are excellent ways to preoccupy the time.”

“Think I’ve read every book at the library,” she grumbles, which probably isn’t that much of an exaggeration. Gotham’s public library system is drastically lacking; it was only in May did Wayne Enterprises announce that they were investing more money into it. By now, they probably haven’t reached the library here in the Upper West Side.

“You should check out GU’s then. Kids get free library cards and our selection is fairly expansive. I’m sure you could get away with checking out some things for your abuela, too. At least until they fix everything in the one here.”

“Huh. Maybe.” She moves ahead of you, scanning the rest of the aisle. “Oh, hey, you guys do have some.”

She reaches for a box.

The door opens. You turn.

The wink of the kitchen knife is the first thing you see, then the trembling hand, and then the owner to whom it belongs, too. A scrawny man wearing a grey hoodie, the same hood pulled over his head.

It’s not great at hiding his face, you think dimly, every muscle inside you locking into place. Mari freezes behind you, breath audibly catching in a gasp as he turns the knife sharply on you.

For a second, the three of you just look at each other.

You break the silence first.

“All the money is in the register. Take it.”

A lengthy pause, one that amplifies the dread petrifying your insides. Your new phone, with Flash’s contact info, sits in the pocket of your hoodie, weighing it down; your fingers are laced together, cold, hovering right above it and you recall the rundown you’d been given by Flash last night, the… other not-quite-normal aspects of your new phone.

“Okay, so, on top of the League encryption stuff, there is something else.”

“Are you tracking me?”

“Not… exactly.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“Your location is logged with the League,” he admits. “But it’s secure. You’re registered with me, so only I can look at it. My wife’s phone is like yours. Her information is there, too. A lot of us do it with our families. Not just to keep sensitive information secure, but there’s… a risk that comes with being with us.”

You frown at him. “Does she know?”

He looks horrified. “Of course she does. I don’t go around just tracking her without her knowledge. That’s weird. And messed up. I don’t even actively do it. Not unless she’s been kidnapped or she wants me to. That’s what I’m trying to say. Your location is being tracked but I’m not peeking in on it. No one is, unless a need comes up. An emergency kind of need. And that brings me to my next thing.”

He pauses, looking at you, calculating, but you just nod for him to continue.

“You have my number,” he says. “So, you can call me. For emergencies or if you just want to talk about your day. But in the case that you can’t call me, if you’re in some kind of danger…” He plucks the phone out of your grasp, turning it over in his hands, pointing to the power button on the side. “Press this three times and it’ll send an SOS signal to me, along with your location. I’ll come. Okay?”

“Are you… sure?”

He seems affronted. “I don’t just do this for anyone. I thought you’d have seen that by now. You’re…” he stops, frowning deeply. “You mean a lot to me, kid. If I can save you, if I have the opportunity to keep you safe, I’ll take it. I wouldn’t ever ask you to leave Gotham because it’s your home and I know the Bats hang around but… this just makes me feel better. You have a direct line to me. Use it.”

“Batman probably won’t like that.”

“Batman can suck it,” he says petulantly. “Especially after what he did to you last week. I take care of my own. No matter where they are. Got it?”

You got it.

The thought still astounds you even now, that Flash cares that much about you and how ironic it is that you don’t even know who he is under the cowl but maybe you don’t need to. This is still him, isn’t it?

And you would heed his words. Of course you would. You have no interest in dying. You have no hangups about being saved. Flash didn’t think you incompetent, it was just a precaution, a necessity for living in the world you do.

That is true now more than ever.

Especially with how aware you are of Mari behind you, too.

“Take your hands outta your pockets,” he says.

Your pulse pounds in your ears.

“Just take the money, man.”

You have to be careful but quick. If you could just unlace your fingers and reach for your phone…

Of course, you have no idea how quickly the signal will reach Flash or how fast he’ll even be able to get here…

You guess you’ll just have to trust him. Trust him and his capabilities.

A step forward. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You can hear Mari behind you, her breath quick and uneven. You’re most worried about her, to be honest. If you go down, what’s going to happen to her? You dread to think about it.

“Take your hands out of your fuckin’ pocket,” he hisses; despite the severity of his voice, his hand is trembling. You don’t get why he won’t just grab the money and go.

He must think you can call the police or something but even then, it’s not as if the GCPD are reliable. As if they can do anything.

As for you, there is nothing else you can do. You need to call him.

“Mari, run!”

Your hand grapples for your phone at the same time.

You hear the snick of sneakers on the tiled floors, your fingers slip over the sides of the new case currently hugging your phone, and he surges forward and then—

Just a mere spark, one that jolts you as you realize what happened. It’s small at first, then bigger, then massive, a forest fire eating you alive from the inside out, burning white-hot.

You can’t do anything.

You stare at the man in front of you, closer now, close enough to dig his knife right into the soft flesh of your belly. His eyes are wide, too. Like he can’t believe he just did that. Neither can you.

But the worst of it comes when he pulls the knife out.

The sound that escapes you is foreign to your ears. Your knees give out. One hand presses to the source of your pain, the other lands hard on the tiled floor; your wrist smarts, your arm trembling as you hold yourself up.

You’re barely aware of anything other than the pain. Throbbing heat, warmth rapidly spreading through the front of your shirt and hoodie. Your vision blurs, from tears and from the pain, your heart pounds so hard, you feel it in your teeth, hear it in your ears above the rush of your blood.

You manage a glance behind you, relieved to see Mari is gone and hopefully back in the safety of the apartment building next door. Ahead of you, the man is scrambling to get the cash register open, cursing like a sailor and eventually yanking it off the counter and smashing it on the ground, ducking out of your view.

God, you need to call Flash. Not 911, they won’t get here in time, no way, you need him. Before the man decides to cut his losses and kill you. You hope he’ll just take the money and run, but you’ve seen his face, surely he knows that puts him in that much more danger of being arrested—

The door opens. You hear your name from a familiar voice and then someone steps into view.

Tim’s eyes are wide as he looks at you, horrified, but behind him, your attacker shoots up from the ground and you choke out a warning, an urging to run, to get out of here, you don’t know what you’d do if anything happened to him, no, no, you can’t lose him like that.

He whips around just as the man swings himself over the counter, letting out something of a war cry, cash held in one hand and the knife in the other. It gleams red under the light. He lunges.

“Tim!”

But his fatal injury does not happen. Instead, you watch him duck out of the way, moving faster, more gracefully than you’ve ever seen, like he’s done this before and the man doesn’t expect it, stumbling with his own momentum. Not stopping, either, Tim grabs the man’s wrist, heaving him over his shoulder until he slams into the ground hard. It’s brutal. It’s violent. It’s nothing you’ve ever seen from Tim, your Tim who… who hates needles and always bemoans going to get the yearly flu shot with you and Steph, your Tim who can get impatient, snippy, but not violent.

You don’t understand. With the haze of pain, that fact feels oddly upsetting.

The door opens again. He whips around, geared up for another fight, but it’s just Spoiler, it’s—

Golden hair, familiar blue eyes. A face you know by heart. Even with the bottom of her face hidden.

They’re both at your side in an instant. In good timing, too, because your arm gives out but before you can crash to the ground, Tim catches you, turning you over in his arms and gently laying you back onto the tile.

“You’re okay,” he says quickly, eyes scanning you frantically. “You’re okay.”

All the movement tugs at your belly, flames flaring for a brief moment, making you dizzy with pain, choking out your voice, leaving you to blink the tears out of your eyes and look up at your friends.

You don’t like the look on their faces. Horrified. Full of dread. It hurts you.

“Fuck,” Stephanie Brown, also known as Spoiler, says, digging through pouches in her utility belt. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Oracle, where is the nearest hospital?”

“I know where it is,” Tim says, snapping into action, his hands reaching for the hoodie. “Off Murphy Ave.”

Rrrrrrip.

He tears through the front part of your hoodie—his hoodie—like it’s nothing. Both their faces drop as they see your shirt underneath it but you’re more focused on the first part of what just happened.

“Did you—have to tear it?” you whine. “This is the only hoodie I have from you…”

“You can have all of my hoodies,” he promises, reaching for the hem of your shirt.

Another ripping sound.

Steph reaches underneath you. “Didn’t go through.”

Tim nods. “The sooner we get her to the hospital, the better. I don’t like how much blood she’s losing.”

“I can hear you, you know,” you mutter, more petulant than you want but considering you are bleeding from a stab wound, you think you get to be.

They both let out strained chuckles. Tim reaches for one of the pouches of Steph’s belt. You wonder how he knows which one to open. You wonder a lot of things. Where he learned to kick ass. Whether he has always known Steph is Spoiler. How he is so calm right now. It tickles at you, like you have all the pieces to the puzzle but the full picture still isn’t coming out.

And oh, yeah, the burning throb of the stab wound is really sapping your concentration, too. Cold creeps in at the edges, your fingers feeling icy as you clench them. You shiver violently, though it hurts to move like that.

“You’re gonna be fine,” Steph says soothingly, squeezing your hand. “We just really need to get you to a hospital to guarantee that.”

“You should—fuck!” The gauze Tim presses to the wound sends shockwaves of pain through you. Black spots appearing in your vision, breath squeezing in your throat.

He says your name loudly. “Breathe.”

“Fuck you,” you wheeze out, trying and failing to curl away from the pressure he is currently applying to your wound. “That—hurts—”

“I know,” he says, pained. “But I have to. We have to. I’m sorry.”

“He’s right,” Steph says, brushing some of your hair away from your face. “Come on, talk to me. Ignore what he’s doing. What were you going to say before?”

“My phone,” you mumble, shivering. “Flash gave it to me. S-Said if I press the power button three times, it sends a distress signal to him.”

“That’s kind of him,” Tim mutters, sounding, dare you say it, jealous, which, in your haze of pain, just pisses you off.

“You absolute asshole, you don’t get to—”

“Stop it!” Steph snaps, lunging for your phone. “Tim, focus on saving her life and not on being an ass right now, okay? I’m calling him. We need that kind of speed. She’s losing too much blood and the hospital is too far.”

He sobers significantly. A bloodied hand reaches for yours. You’re only aware of it because you see it, the sight of his pale skin covered in your blood, his fingers wrapping around yours. He squeezes.

“Can you feel that?”

“K-Kind of.”

“Do it, Spoiler.”

“I’m doing it, Timothy.”

She is. She holds your phone in gloved hands, pressing the button three times, then scoots away from your head, lifting your feet over her lap.

Tim continues his work, the pressure he continues to apply to the wound making your head spin. Exhaustion creeps in at the edges, making your eyelids drag with each blink.

No, no, falling asleep is bad. You’ve seen enough movies and TV shows of injured characters to know that. You have to stay awake.

Steph watches you, concerned. “How long—”

She doesn’t get to finish her sentence as a sharp gust of wind hits all of you. It knocks things off the shelves and then, all of you are blinking up at the Flash, blue lightning fading away.

He breathes your name and in the next blink, he’s next to you, on his knees.

“Hey, Flash,” you croak.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says softly, a gloved hand resting tenderly on your forehead. He looks at Tim and Steph. “Hospital?”

“It’s—”

Tim cuts Steph off, staring hard at Flash. “She’ll most likely need a blood transfusion. Her blood type is AB positive—”

“And she’s allergic to penicillin,” Steph tacks on quickly.

“Got it.” He sweeps you into his arms and you whimper at the movement. “And the hospital?”

“Intersection of Murphy Avenue and Elliot Circle,” Steph tells him.

“Be careful,” Tim stresses.

Flash gives him a frosty look. “I got it. You’ve done enough.”

Stop fighting, you want to say, but Flash is delightfully warm and you’re so tired. If you rest your eyes for just a little bit, that’s fine, right?

“Flash—!”

A sharp tug in your belly, gravity pulling on you, and darkness falls over you like a blanket. You surrender without fight.

Voices puncture the veil of darkness. Soft murmurs, soothing tones.

“She’ll be okay, Red,” a woman murmurs. “You got her here on time.”

“I know, Lin,” someone else says and wait, you know that voice. It’s Flash. He sounds so… harrowed. “But I just… I don’t know.”

“You know what the doctors said. The danger is gone. And with you here… maybe…” she trails off, tone implying something you aren’t privy to.

A deep breath. “Do you think so? I could’ve, earlier, but I didn’t know if it would hurt her and I didn’t want to take the chance…”

“Well… I think you’re a big softy and she means a lot more to you than you ever realized. So… maybe.”

“Maybe,” he echoes back and you want to know, want to ask what exactly it is he and this mystery woman are talking about but you slip back under again.

The next time you resurface, it’s to cutting words and a tension so thick, you feel it, too, even with all your senses muddled, knee-deep in a haze.

“I don’t mind her,” Flash says coldly. “But you, too?”

“She’s my friend. I have a right to see her, too,” someone else says—Tim, you realize. It’s Tim, his tone cutting, temper on the rise.

“The way you’ve treated her these past two months doesn’t say much about friendship to me.”

“I was going to tell her—”

“Oh, you were going to tell her? Only after you finally fucked it all up being caught hanging out with your friends when you explicitly said you were too busy to hang out with her? Yeah, that’s real great.”

“You haven’t told her,” Tim points out petulantly.

“Really mature,” Flash scoffs. “I have a good reason to keep it from her. What’s yours? It’s not like you were deprived of her attention. You’re friends. Why the hell would you favor Red Robin over Tim Drake?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand—”

“No, I bet you don’t, because it’s easier to excuse yourself that way, isn’t it?” he seethes. “You’re just like him, you know. Just like him.”

You don’t know who they’re talking about. Or maybe you do and it’s just not coming to you. But the comparison isn’t a kind one. The way Tim snaps back in the next second affirms that.

“She wasn’t talking to me! I was—worried!”

“So, you should’ve talked to her! Instead of going behind her back and befriending her as Red Robin! What the hell did you achieve by doing that?”

“We were going to tell her, too, you know,” the woman from before says, her tone disapproving. “Very soon, in fact. But his situation is different from yours and you know that.”

Silence stretches on.

“Well, I still want to see her,” Tim says quietly, the fight leaving his voice.

“How—” Steph. Her voice cuts out, thick in a way that is unfamiliar to you. She clears her throat. “How is she?”

“Stable,” the mystery woman informs her.

“Why hasn’t she woken up?” Tim asks. You can just hear the frown in his voice and the vision of him forms easily in your mind, that familiar wrinkle between his brows, pretty pink lips pursed.

“Anesthesia still needs to wear off,” the woman says. “She’ll wake up soon.”

“But until then,” Flash cuts in, tone still severe. “Feel free to make yourself scarce. Stephanie can hang around. But you? No way in hell.”

“You think she wants that?” Tim shoots back, anger returning. “You don’t know anything. You have no idea. You’re assuming—”

“Yeah, I am. She’s not awake. She can’t tell us. Until then, I—we—can make those decisions.”

“Oh, that’s great. I’m sure she’ll love that—”

“I know what you’re thinking and we’re doing this with good intentions. You can’t say the same, can you?”

That doesn’t help. Fans the flames, if anything, as they keep arguing.

Ugh. You don’t want to hear this.

Like mercy, you slip under again.

reblogs are appreciated!

taglist: @peachesona @knoxx-seresinbradshaw @kikis-writing-service @sweetistic @soundsfunbutno @ginevraxrogers @fridaenpina @skcj24 @bath1lda @omfg-its-tay @laughydaphne @fhrjrirj @iamthesimpmother @alittlelateforstars @thaliadoesthings @scarlett13 @zelabee @coffee-love-alltheabove @benstormy @sad-girl09 @lockofspades @thereallchristine @thatonecroc @1lellykins @jelsafan0 @hearttjason @kno-way-home @moniverse05 @bat-h-tic @ghostindeath @escapism-r-us

[ask to be tagged! either here or my inbox <3]

#tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #dc comics imagine #dc comics x reader #tim drake imagine #red robin imagine #tim drake x y/n #tim drake x you #red robin x y/n #red robin x you #batfam x reader #batfam x you #batfam x y/n

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afeelgoodblog · 2 years

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The Best News of Last Week - June 20, 2022

🏳️‍🌈 — Happy Pride Month! Let’s start this week with some great news coming from Tokyo.

1. Tokyo Passes Law to Recognize Same-Sex Partnerships

The Tokyo metropolitan government on Wednesday adopted legislation recognizing same-sex partnerships, which will extend some rights that apply to married heterosexual couples.

It also reflects changing attitudes toward the LGBT community. A poll by the Asahi newspaper last year found that 65 percent of voters nationwide supported same-sex marriage, up from 41 percent in 2015.

Japan is the only country in the G7 largest economies not to recognize same-sex marriages.

2. Extinct ‘fantastic giant tortoise’ found alive on the Galápagos Islands

Believed to be extinct for more than a century, a rare species of giant tortoise is in fact still alive.

Scientists assumed that the chelonoidis phantasticus had died out more than a century ago. The only known specimen was discovered in 1906. But in 2019, Princeton researchers discovered a lone female tortoise on the island that hinted that the species might live on. Last week, they finally proved that the two specimens are related.

3. Groundbreaking treatment for HIV/AIDS developed by research team ‘with just a single vaccine dose’

People with AIDS might soon have the option to be treated with just a single vaccine dose, according to a new study from Tel Aviv University that shows the potential impact of a new and unique AIDS/HIV treatment. The peer-reviewed study was led by Dr. Adi Barzel and PhD student Alessio Nehmad.

The goal of the research team was to genetically engineer type B white blood cells inside the body of a person with AIDS. Once modified, the blood cells would be able to secrete neutralizing antibodies against the HIV virus responsible for AIDS, eradicating it from the patient’s body.

4. Rare sun bears rescued from animal traffickers get health checkup

Heartwarming footage shows how two rare bears that were poached as cubs by animal traffickers were given a thorough health checkup.

youtube

“Sun Bears Bopha and Jamran are former victims of the illegal wildlife trade, but found their forever homes at Perth Zoo after being rescued by Free the Bears.”

5. The New York Public Library is giving away 500,000 books for free for keeps

The library is giving away 500,000 books for free to kids, teens and families at all of its branch locations in an effort to help folks build their at-home libraries “and strength the city’s ecosystem of learning,”

All you really have to do to get your hands on some copies is to show up at your neighborhood library and use your card — or sign up for one.

6. Alaska Airlines flight attendant proposes to pilot girlfriend on Pride-themed plane

Veronica Rojas, a flight attendant for Alaska Airlines, surprised her girlfriend with an unforgettable wedding proposal on a flight to Los Angeles. During the flight, Rojas got down on one knee and in true flight attendant-fashion, used the PA system to propose to Moncayo.

youtube

7. Disabled teen completes 84-mile trek of Hadrian’s Wall in wheelchair

Plucky youngster Brynn Hauxwell, 17, who has autism, ADHD, severe asthma, and fixed ankle contractures, took on the historic trail on the border between England and Scotland as part of a charity challenge.

youtube

The arduous journey saw Brynn and his team traveling around eight to nine miles a day and at times going as slow as one mile an hour. The resilient teen has raised over $13,000 for Ability Shetland, a charity that supports disabled people to unlock their full potential in all areas of life, and which also provided the mountain trike for the expedition.

. . .

That's it for this week. Until next week, You can follow me on twitter. Also, I have a newsletter :)

Subscribe here to receive a collection of wholesome news every week in your inbox :D

#best news of last week #pride month #galapagos

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rwprincess · 2 years

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Stacked (BenderxFem!Reader --Smut--)

Masterlist

Word Count: 4.2k

Synopsis: A good girl has gone bad for Bender. BenderxFem!Reader smut, in the library, as the only two in detention.

CW: No plot, only smut; semi-public sex (p in v with condom); virgin!reader; fingering (f receiving); some breast play; pet names: honey, good girl, baby, sweetheart, sweets; mild degredation (verbal); weed mention

You probably would have categorized yourself as a ‘good girl’ before that fateful Saturday of March 24th, albeit one who slipped up just enough to land yourself in that Saturday Detention in the first place. You had made it through most of your high school career without feigning illness to stay home or cutting class, but oh no, the one time you decided to skip was the time you would get caught. It felt like the universe was conspiring against you when Vernon caught you and your two friends sneaking back onto campus through one of the back doors in the East Wing. It was like he knew you had all gone out and was just waiting for you to come crawling back. You immediately lamented to yourself that you should have never let your friends convince you to play hooky, that your life would be over and you’d be suspended for sure. You consider yourself lucky to have only earned Saturday school and had arrived that morning ready to pay your penance and return to your title of ‘good girl.’ That is, until you met John Bender. Since then, you tried everything in your power to toe the line to get as many Saturday Detention slips as possible, knowing he’d be there.

There was just something about him that drew you in, like a spell had been cast over you or something. You knew you should have been disgusted and horrified by the things he said to Claire, but your instinctive side made you feel prickly and hot instead as he questioned her, “Have you ever been felt up? Over the bra, under the blouse, your shoes off, hoping to God your parents don’t walk in?” Your brain took it as more of a suggestion and you immediately imagined Bender doing just that to you, while you’d card your hands through his long, soft brown hair. You were sure your breath audibly hitched but he didn’t seem to notice, his predatory stare locked on Claire as she swallowed hard and answered, “Do you want me to puke?” Of course, she hid her desire better than you did. Or at least, outwardly protested. But that didn’t stop her from getting to Bender by the end of the day and you had never felt the fiery jealousy that broiled in the pit of your stomach until you saw her kiss him and hand him one of her earrings.

There was just something about him, the way he spoke terrible, filthy things, yet it was coupled with a sweet vulnerable side that you couldn’t resist. You kept your distance at first, flippantly dismissing it as a whirlwind crush…at least for that week or so that he was ‘dating’ Claire. It didn’t take long before that fizzled out, though, and your pangs for Bender came back full-force. It was easy to make it seem like a coincidence those first few Saturdays, “Oh, God, I can’t believe Vernon found me cutting class again,” you’d lie. But John was always one step ahead in reading people and figured you out soon enough.

“You again?” He smirked, walking into the library on one warm April Saturday.

“What can I say? I’m spiraling out of control.” You grinned in response, delighted by his attention…and the fact that it seemed to be just you two this time.

“Mhmm. What are you in for this time?” He questioned, making himself comfortable in his seat next to you at his table. You knew where he always sat and maybe just happened to choose the chair next to his, incidentally, of course.

“Smoking.” You say quickly, quietly. Which spoke volumes to your desire to come here, to see him and spend another weekend with him.

“I’ll say.” He eyed you up and down, making your cheeks turn red before you were interrupted by Vernon coming to berate the two of you. Of course, this was one of John’s pre-assigned detentions from when you first met him. Which retort had earned him this one? ‘Oh, I’m crushed’ or maybe ‘Not even close, bud!’, you wondered while biting back a smile at the memory. You loved the way he stood up to Vernon. It had concerned you a bit at the time, as both escalated and became louder, but it also thrilled you to see him question Vernon’s overinflated sense of authority.

“This should not be your role model, Y/N,” Vernon started to come to a close, indicating John, “If you don’t clean up your act, you’ll just be a female Bender.”

You scoffed in response, “Promise?” You raised a challenging eyebrow and heard Bender snort, only encouraging you more.

“Watch it, missy.” He addressed you again, slapping down a worksheet that all of you knew wouldn’t get done, but at least he seemed to have learned his lesson with the ‘essays’ after Brian told him where to shove it, courtesy of The Breakfast Club. He exited in a huff and Bender turned toward you.

“You know, he’s right,” he tutted, clicking his tongue in mock-disapproval, “you’re really going to the dark side. Skipping class and now smoking? I don’t know what to do with ya, kid.” ‘I have some ideas,’ you thought, silently, while eyeing him. “Tell me, did you just have enough of being perfect all the time, or are you just here to see me?” He grinned deviously, trying to tease you, to get a rise out of you. However, he didn’t know that you were committed to the idea of being with him, to putting all the worry and shame behind you. You’d spent enough time here to repel the shackles of conformity and caring, you were ready to flirt shamelessly and see where that led you.

“Little bit of column A, a little from column B,” you admitted, taking pride in the resulting flustered expression from Bender. It was clear he didn’t expect this change from you. While he sat gaping at you like a fish, you stood up and confidently strode away, knowing Vernon wouldn’t be back unless there was some type of commotion. You sat down, leaning against a shelf of books knowing that Bender would eventually come to you and smirked at the thought.

It didn't take long for your plan to have the desired effect: Bender couldn't resist having attention and someone to talk to, after all. What was he going to do, his assignment? No, you knew he wouldn't let Vernon win. He tried to seem nonchalant about it, as if he were just coming over and actually selecting a book and oh my, you just happened to be here! You half-smirked in victory as he took a seat on the floor next to you.

“So what, pray tell, has brought you here today? I mean, I know the literal cause is for smoking, but I want to know the psychology of it. What made Shermer High’s resident good-girl go down this dark path? How did you,of all people, decide to go bad?” He asked, lowering his voice to a husky tone that left an inching heat between your thighs.

“Hmmm,” you hummed lightly in response, his eyes snapping up to your face while they had previously drifted down. “It’s kind of a secret. Do you want to know?” you lowered your tone conspiratorially, then leaned in towards him after he nodded. Your whispering breath tickled the shell of his ear as you admitted, “You. You are what changed and why I’m here today.” You pulled back and gave him a sickly sweet smile, amused by his responsive gulp.

“Was being innocent always an act, then? You seem like you can just turn it off and on, the way you smiled just now.”

“Hmm, no.” You giggled in response. “It’s just that…when I met you, I found out that being perfect and preppy wasn’t the only way to live. I was so nervous that first day and thought I’d ruined my life. And then I met you. You were just so cool and didn’t overly care what people think.”

“It comes at a price, you know.”

“All of your Saturdays for all eternity, apparently.” You shrugged.

“It’s more than that,” he looked down at the ground. “I’m not exactly Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky.”

“No, I know that,” you replied, “but you’re more free than anyone I know. They all have sticks up their butts.” You said and he laughed. “Plus, I’d be interested in changing that, in making you happy.” You bit your lip, looking up at him with what you hoped was a meaningful expression…that he’d take the hint.

He seemed to understand what you were implying because his eyebrows shot up. “What--What exactly are you proposing here?” He asked, taken aback. You had seemed as inexperienced as Claire and Allison when he had met you, and he didn’t think that had changed in the last month or so…unless you were lying in the first place.

“John,” you looked at him directly in the eye as you placed a hand gently on his thigh, “that’s up to you really, isn’t it?”

“Fuck,” he whimpered, meeting your stare. He was almost afraid to make the first move, scared that you would reveal it was all a joke at his expense, that it would all end in utter humiliation. But you just batted your long, dark lashes at him and gave that thigh a gentle squeeze, causing him to throw caution to the wind. He quickly grasped your face between his hands and kissed you, roughly. You let out a light moan to encourage him, and he moved his right hand to the back of your neck, pulling you closer and holding you near.

His lips were surprisingly soft against yours and his years of experience showed. You instantly repaid each of his kisses with your own, leaning forward into him, and bracing one of his wrists, wrapping around it with your hand. The way your lips moved in tandem, synching with your desires and your heart beats only made this feel more right. You obliged his curious tongue as it swept along your lip, begging to explore your mouth. You parted your lips softly, your breath intermingling with Bender’s. You broke the kiss a few moments later, pulling back, out of breath. Bender began kicking himself internally, fearing that he’d crossed a line or that you would finally reveal that you were just messing with him. He looked away, dejectedly, but you didn’t let him keep the wrong idea for long. You repositioned yourself and began to climb into his lap. He whipped his head back up, brown irises and pupils growing wide at your bold stance. He certainly wasn’t expecting that. You eased yourself down, your hips resting snugly against his own, pressing your chest into his.

“You didn’t think I was done, did you?” You smirked down at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, resting them along his broad shoulders. “Honey, I think we’re just getting started.” Sure, you lacked experience, but after you drank in that first kiss, you were hooked and didn’t want to---no, couldn’t stop now. You needed more, even though you weren’t sure how far that extended yet. At this present moment, you were willing to fuck Bender in the library today, right here amongst the stacks. In fact, you were kind of hoping for it, but you didn’t wholly want to push your luck. For now, you connected your lips back to Bender’s, thrusting your tongue into his mouth, desperate for the sensation of your tongue colliding with his. The soft pinks flexed against each other as you threaded your fingers through his hair, running your nails softly along his scalp.

Bender tried to have some restraint. It’s the thought that counts, right? He didn’t want to move too fast or make any assumptions. At first, he had his hands along your face, then arms. He pinned them next to your waist and gave tentative squeezes as you deepened your kisses, but he could only resist for so long and needed to test the waters. He slid his hands down to your butt and pulled you forward, up along his lap, just a bit. You hummed appreciatively against his lips, and he took this as a good sign. He dug his fingers into the meat of your ass, massaging the dough and muscle there. His touch made you instinctively roll your hips forward, the sharp bones digging into him and creating an aching friction. He groaned as you pulled away and started to kiss down his jaw to the tender skin of his neck. “Are you---sure---you want this?” He panted out, trying to regain his breathing from your previous kisses to his lips. You only answered with a gentle tug to his hair, pulling his head back just enough to give you more access to the crook of his neck and his collarbone. Another lust-filled groan left his lips, urging you to continue. You could feel your desire dampening your clothed core, causing you to give another roll of your hips, which in turn caused Bender to buck upwards. Combined with his tight grip on your behind, you could feel the straining bulge growing beneath you, yearning to touch you. You smirked into his neck before you pulled back, stopping all sensation. You almost could have sworn you heard him whine in protest.

“You’re surprisingly quiet,” you mused. “I thought for sure you would have a million filthy things to say.”

"Honestly, I'm still a little in shock that this is actually happening," he confided, opening up in a rare moment of vulnerability. "You have no idea how much I've thought about this. About you. I'm not convinced it isn't a dream."

"Mm. Something to pass the time in another lonely Saturday detention?" You purred in response, tightening the grasp on his shoulders.

"Yeah," he licked his lips, eyes scanning your face and lowering down your body, "something like that."

"Don't worry, baby, it's real." You chuckled darkly, bending to kiss his neck again, "and I think I have some idea how much you've thought about this," you ground down against him, indicating your awareness of his hardness, but also added, "because I've thought about you, too. Every. Night." The implication had his mind racing and he gripped you fiercely, placing a rough kiss to your lips.

He couldn't contain himself much longer, and wanted to oblige your fantasies as well. His hands roamed your body with intense fervor. His touches were no longer hesitant, they came to you with a needy, almost bruising force. He palmed your breasts over your shirt, before squeezing them harshly, causing you to let out a mewling whine. "Please, John. More," you panted in response. His deft hands quickly slid up your shirt, eager to please, and snaked under the silky fabric of your bra. He relished in the warm squish of your skin and plucked one of your nipples between his index and middle fingers, sliding it down into the curve between. "Yes," you whispered in a high-pitched moan, which crumbled to a deep and gravely tone as Bender's teeth sank into your neck.

He started to unleash his other hand, trailing down your stomach to the button of your jeans. When you didn't protest, he clicked them open quietly, tugging the zipper down gently. He dipped his hand into the spot he had made available, feeling you over your panties. "Fuck, you're so wet already," he groaned against your ear.

"It's cuz I want you … s'bad." You whined in response, desperate for him to touch you, to give you some kind of relief.

"You're sure?" He asked. He still wasn't entirely certain of your level of experience, even though you were matching him on-par at this point. He was impressed, but still wary that you would call a stop to it, or regret it later. He'd been in those situations enough times.

"You were just commenting on how wet I am. For you," you pointed out, "please, Bender, don't be a tease." You mocked him slightly, knowing he thought all girls were teases instead. He gave you a gruff growl in response and slipped his fingers wordlessly into your underwear, using the slick from your folds to coat two of his fingers. He slid them into you, easily, causing an electric shock of desire to jolt through your whole body. It was so different from the touches you had administered to yourself while thinking of him. So much better.

"Don't ever think that John Bender doesn't deliver, sweetheart," he grumbled against the skin of your neck, making sure he was close enough to your ear for you to hear him. Your walls instinctively clenched around him, aroused by his commentary. "Mm, you like that? You like when I call you 'sweetheart?' Or do you just like having my fingers inside you, fucking into you?" He asked, amused. You nodded quickly, which made him chuckle in return, "Well, which is it?"

"Both." You replied, then moaned loudly as he flexed his fingers in you.

"God, I love hearing that. Don't hold back, sweetheart. Keep moaning for me. I'll make it worth your while." He said, and you weren't sure what he meant, exactly, but you were eager to find out, so you let out another low moan to encourage him. He delighted you by adding another layer, an insistent thumb that brought circles to your clit, increasing your pleasure tenfold.

"Mmf! Fuck!" You breathed, arching your back, pushing your hips forward into his touch. "Yes, John. Just like that. Please."

"Mm. Where did that controlling girl go? Now you're so needy and begging for it." He smirked.

"Shh," you hushed his criticism and bent forward to kiss him hungrily, tiny breathy moans escaping from the seal of your lips as your orgasm started to build. You bucked against him, riding his hand to seek your high, hands now tangling in his hair. You pulled back to whisper, "I'm so close, John. Please. Please make me cum."

"I told you, baby. I always deliver." He quickened his motions to bring you over the edge and you called his name, feeling it echo in the otherwise silent library. He stroked you a couple more times before slowly pulling his fingers away, letting you come down. "If you think you can stand, I wanna show you even more." He raised an eyebrow at you and you nodded, complying immediately. He was right, your bold nature was gone, replaced by a submissive nature that only focused on the desire for more. You stood up quickly, awaiting directions. "Turn around and grab the shelf." He commanded, climbing to his feet, giving an amused huff of a laugh when he saw how quickly you obeyed. He rummaged around in his wallet for a moment, procuring a condom and holding it in front of your face while he stood behind you, close enough that you could feel his erection brush against your ass. "I want to fuck you. Is that alright, sweetheart?"

"God, please, yes." You rubbed your ass against him, seeking friction and he laughed again. He tugged at your bottoms, shaking them down your thighs in preparation, then pulling his own down. You heard the rip in the foil and gulped. You were still keen to do this, you needed him inside of you, but your heart pounded in fear and you paused for a moment. "John? I've…I've never done this before. Please, take it easy on me." You confessed and felt your cheeks grow hot with embarrassment.

"Mm. With how good you've been, you could have fooled me." He mused, running a hand down your side, making you shiver. He leaned forward and you could feel his chest pressed against your back as he nudged his chin onto your shoulder. "Don't worry, sweets. I'll take good care of you." He purred back. Yours was not the first virginity that John Bender had claimed, and you were pretty presumptive of that fact. "Bend forward just a little more," he recommended, and you complied. "Good girl," he hummed, making you feel another wave of wetness flood your core.

He grasped himself in one hand and led his controlled tip against your folds, allowing your arousal to lubricate the condom as he ran it down the shaft. "I'll go nice and slow, baby. I won't hurt you…unless you want me to." You pressed back against him, his words making you feel anguished for contact. He laughed lightly at the effect he had on you, and gently grabbed your hips to steady you. "You ready, sweets?" He asked and you nodded vigorously before feeling him enter you, stretching your walls slowly to accommodate him. It wasn't painful, but a bit uncomfortable as he inched his way in. You'd never felt so full before and it was definitely something you had to get adjusted to. He was slow and patient, as promised, letting you get used to each bit of him before adding more. "You doing alright?" He asked and you nodded. "Good, 'cuz you are so fucking tight, I wasn't sure," he growled and you instantly felt dizzy with desire. He finally had reached the hilt, having pushed all the way into you. "I'm gonna start moving. I wanna fuck you, okay, baby? You tell me if anything doesn't feel right."

You nodded again and let out a pathetic, "Please, fuck me, John," that made him want to turn feral, but he remembered his promise. He'd take it easy on you…this time.

He pulled back and gently reinserted himself. "You drive me fucking wild, saying shit like that. You know that?" He asked and you mewled at the feeling of him filling you back up, gripping the bookshelf just a bit tighter. "All you ever had to do was ask, sweetheart. I've been dying to fuck you six ways from Sunday since we've met. You're so, so pretty," he started to pick up the pace with his words, withdrawing and then pressing back into you, "with those big eyes and their fuck-me stare. I was hoping you wanted me. That I wasn't just imagining it. I thought, oh no, a good girl like that can't be into me. Too innocent. Too sweet. But I was wrong, wasn't I? Deep down, you're just as filthy as me. Begging to be fucked in the library? Because you have detention for smoking? My, my." There was that dirty talk you longed for.

"Mm, yes. I wanted you so bad. From day one, John. I---" you gasped as he hit a particularly sensitive spot, "had to have you." He pulled out and plowed back in with a renewed force, spurred on by your sultry confessions. You moaned and dropped your head forward, feeling your legs beginning to quake. It was so hard to keep yourself upright while he talked to you the way he did, and while he fucked into you with unbridled desire, possibly as strong as yours. You began to see stars as he brought one of his hands around to the front, running a finger against your swollen clit. You could feel heat radiating off him as his chest pressed against your back, tightly fucking into you and keeping the perfect pressure on the sensitive bud. You leaned your head back against his shoulder, groaning his name.

"Yes baby, take it just like that and say my name. Fuck, you feel so good."

"Jesus, Bender. You feel even better. I'm close."

"Ohh yeah, baby. Cum on me. Cum while my dick is buried deep in that tight little pussy. Make me cum for you." He grunted out between thrusts, making your head spin and your body lose control. With a final loud moan, your walls clenched around him in your release.

"Fuck, fuck, John! S'good. Please cum for me, baby. I want you to feel good, too." You muttered, feeling nonsensical in your words, but he still responded.

"Don't worry, sweets. You're making me feel amazing. Won't be much longer, with a pussy this tight and good. I'm almost there. Hold on, hold---" he couldn't finish his thought as he reached his climax as well, digging his fingers into your hips with a bruising force, snapping his own hips up to chase the sensation of his high and you cried out at the sudden burst of friction, taking him deeper in than before. He stilled for a moment, catching his breath and coming back down to reality, surprised to still find you there and to know this wasn't just another wet dream, his subconscious reminding him of what he couldn't have.

He kissed the side of your neck before pulling out of you all too quickly, the fullness replaced by emptiness. You immediately pouted, glad you were turned away from him so he couldn't see the effect he had on you. He was zipping up as you stopped to pull your own pants back up your legs.

"That was…amazing. Jesus Christ, Y/N, you've been holding out on me," he teased and you pushed him gently. "Ho hum, what to do with all these hours left?" He asked with a smirk.

"I could think of one or two things," you raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well, I do need some time to recuperate," he said, pulling a baggie of weed from his front pocket, "you down with just this for now?" He offered.

"Whatever you want, sweets." You purred at him, kissing him on the cheek.

#bender #john bender #john bender x reader #benderxreader #benderxfem!reader #breakfast club #the breakfast club #80s fanfic #john hughes #smut #smutfic #lemon #john bender lemon #bender lemon

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the-fiction-witch · 5 months

Text

Y/n!

Media The Artful Dodgert

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Flirty

Requested : I absolutely love your Jack Dawkins fic, I've just added your Newt fic to my library. You are an absolutely amazing writer.This is also a request for the jack Dawkins fic, as in could you write one where jack is reunited with someone who he knew back in London?? I just think it would be cute and you can do anything you want from there, anything you want haha Thank you for writing xxxx

I sighed finishing up with the ward rolling my sleeves up heading towards the stairwell,

"Jack. Patient. Room four," Hetty said having come chasing after me,

"What about them?"

"She's refusing to let Dr Sneed see her."

I sighed, great last thing I need some little whiner, "Will she let me see her?"

"She says yes."

"Alright," I sighed heading back down and quickly went to room four, "Hello Miss, Dr Dawkins, I heard you refused Dr Sneeds treatment?" I asked taking her paperwork to see what I was actually dealing with, it wasn't much just a mild head injury nothing worth keeping her in over.

"He's a snivelling, Pompous Git" her voice said from the bed,

I admit I chuckled a little, "Well we agree on something."

"What was your name again?"

"Dawkins. Dr Jack Dawkins." I told her setting her paperwork back and actually looking at her, but- I had a heart attack.

She sat with her long tight curls against the headboard of the bed, a bandage for her wound around her head, her skin slightly red where she clearly had not yet gotten use to the sun here, a long violet dress been repaired and fixed a hundred times.

I- I felt like I was in a dream, I could barely beleive my own eyes, I- I was utterly convinced I'd never see her again.

Y/n. She was a London street girl a year or two older then me, abandoned by her family and forced to make her own way, Much as I was. She didn't run with Fagin, the boys and I. She more made her own way but still we crossed paths. We were pickpockets and petty theives breaching only death it if became nessesary. She... Was The Violet Widow. Known though out London. She'd walk the streets as a evening girl but a man who paid her never got to finish, He would be taken home, stripped, tied, and riden until she had reached her desires then she would kill him, steal his clothes, money, watch and sell what she wouldn't keep or give to us boys. She kept herself nicely I must say, and she even married a few older wealther men taking their name for a few weeks before butching them too taking all that remained and being left as a widow. She lived just down the road from us, and any clothes she thought would she'd pass along, even if she couldn't always feed herself she always tried to feed us too.

We of course were freindly and we'd both gotten each other out of jams more times then I dare to think.

And Admittedtly I had spent more nights then I care to remember as a bored excited teenage boy, knoitted with the sheets of her bed, and with her. But she never minded, and she never charged me, and never let any of the other boys near her.

Last I had heard she had been arrested on her most recent husbands murder charge, but that was only a week or two before I was locked up myself.

I had greived for her, beloived her hung for her crimes or... atleast locked away somewhere I would never see her.

Never in my life would I have pictured her, Here in port victoria let alone, here infront of me.

I was... thrilled to see her alive! But also... suspcious.

"Hi, Dodger."

Immediately I shut the door, locked it tight, pulled the windows shut and the blinds drawn leaving us in complete darkness and secrecy. Standing catching my breath at the foot of her bed my hands on my waist,

"Y/n!?"

"Hi,"

"The bloody hell are you doing here?"

"Got into a fight with a card cheat," She sighed adjusting her bandage,

"No- I don't mean the hospital, I mean Australia!"

"On my travels..."

"Travels?" I glared, "I'm getting pretty fucking concerned right now, first Fagin shows up like the bloody ghost of Christmas past, and now you! What Oliver bloody twist gonna show up next week!"

"He what?" She glared,

"What?"

"Fagin! Is here!"

"Yeah. showed up a few weeks back."

"What the hell is he doing here?"

"Got himself arrested, sent down here."

"You believe that do you?"

"What choice have I got?" I sighed, "So what are you doing down here?"

"Traveling, making my way around," She shrugged,

"And you want me to believe that do you?"

"Why would I Iie? I didn't know you were here, or Fagin, and yes I'd be pretty damn surprised Oliver Twist showed up too. It's a weird ass coincidence." She explained,

"Alright," I sighed I did want to see her, I was happy even if I was concerned by this coincidence I couldn't be angry at her, "How's your head?" I asked sitting on her bed a moment to check her over

"Never had any complaints," She giggled

"I'm serious."

"I thought you'd remember."

"Y/n."

"I feel fine Jack" she smiled, "Are you alright?"

I softened a little all these little jokes reminding me that it is still y/n. "As I can be,"

"Made quite the life for yourself down here. I take it... Dodger's gone?"

"Very much so. They hang escaped convicts here so... Dodger is dead. For all intensive purposes." I told her as I got up to finish her paperwork

"Understandable," she nodded "Dr Dawkins," She playfully smiled,

"You still just Y/n?" I smiled,

"Ohh god no uhhhhh... Y/n, Smith, Liswick, Warden, Petrecove, uhhh I'm sure there's a Llyod in there somewhere, I loose track" She said, "But just Y/n."

I smirked a little, "Humm... Still the Violet Widow I take it?"

"I see why you became a doctor, quiet the skills of deduction." she smiled,

"Yeah well I hope you're not here planning to add Dawkins to that lineup,"

"Why? Would it be so bad for... old friends to rekindle old flames now that they're all grown up," She smirked,

"Don't even think about it." I warn her, "The issue there is I know what you do. and I know what you'll do to me on our wedding night."

"True." She smiled "You're letting me go then?"

"Yep, just keep it clean, and stay out of trouble" I told her,

"I uhhh Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"I only ask because it is you Jack, but do you think you could slip a girl a few coins before you send me away? just for an apple and a place to rest my head tonight,"

"You don't have anywhere to go? Or any money?"

"No."

"How'd you get here then?"

"Spent my last few coins on the boat trip here, figured I'd get a job or earn money my usual way, I haven't even all that lucky yet,"

I felt awful, nowing the girl who use to gived me soup and clothes kept me happy and better off then I ever could have been without her, now had to ask me for money just to rest her head, but... I don't get paid, meerly food and accomodation, What little I had was for me and I'd worked my ass numb at the card table to get it, But... I can't say not to her "I... I think I can."

"I'd pay you back," she said,

"Yeah, how?"

she stopped short a moment expecting me to say no and she clearly did not actually having an answer, "How I always used to?"

"Yeah?" I smirked a little

"mhm" she nodded moving her dress and opening her legs

"...Deal" I smirked crawling into bed with her "I've missed you" I smirked pulling her into a kiss feeling the intensity of our time apart

"I missed you too Jack," She smirked

#thomasbrodiesangster #tbs imagine #tbs imagines #tbs smut #thomas brodie sangster smut #thomas sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster #tbs #thomas sangster #thearttfuldodger #the artful dodger #theartfuldogger #jackdawkins #jack #jack dawkins

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sardonic-the-writer · 5 months

Text

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬

↳ summary: in between their friends voicemails, and a spanish teachers punishment, troy and abed are struggling to tell you something important. or; a reader insert of season one episode sixteen

↳ warnings: period accurate jokes, internalized homophobia, jeff being weird, and alcohol

↳ notes: abed and troy are in a relationship change my mind

↳ song: me and your mama—childish gambino

masterlist | commisions | carrd

It was early morning, just before first period Spanish, when you finally decided to say something.

“Okay, so I can’t be the only one creeped out by that thing, right?”

You looked around with a sense of judgement as six pairs of eyes immediately whipped around to meet your own. Taking a moment to observe the flower in Annie's hand, and the box of chocolates in Shirley's, you stopped biting at the end of your pen momentarily to gesture at said thing; which just so happened to be your school's mascot.

It was Valentine's day at Greendale community college. Something that, in between your day to day classes and usual group shenanigans, you had forgotten about. If the seven couples french kissing hadn’t reminded you of that enough on your way to the library, the pair of heart shaped boxers draped over the statue outside did.

You had sat down at the study group as usual, expecting Britta’s rant about the patriarchal undertones of the holiday and a well timed meta quip from Abed, but instead all you got was a pair of artificially painted eyes staring at you.

The mascot in question turned to you and made what sounded like an offended gasp as it stopped wheeling its little cart full of gifts. Cards covered in pink hearts and lacey trim overflowed from it, all attached with tacky glue, and you got a good look at one of them as it was sent flying near your forehead.

“Jeez! Sorry, man! I didn’t know this job meant that much to you!” You swiftly ducked under the table to avoid the line of fire. Coming up once the sound of squeaky wheels on carpet faded away, you ended up glowering as Troy laughed at you.

“Shut up, Barnes. Abed got more muffins than you.” You glared, referencing the lack of valentines gifts he'd been given. Troy was quick to choke on his laughter after that. He straightened his posture consciously, only stealing a look or two at the goodie basket placed neatly in front of Abed.

“Great dodge.” The amateur filmmaker praised you in his usual quick pace as you picked up the card from the floor. “If you had been in the Matrix, and that card was a bullet, that would have been the second coolest scene in the movie. Next to the other part where Neo also evades bullets.”

“Neo’s? I have a few friends that are those.”

“Ignoring Pierce's questionable life choices and their daily allotted hazing— ” Jeff sighed from his usual spot next to you, “— I have more important things to discuss. And speaking of which!”

Jeff slouched further into his chair as the door to the study room opened once more. You all watched as an extremely hungover Britta stumbled in, a pair of reflective aviators resting on the brim of her nose.

“Sorry I’m late.” She grumbled. Going to sit down she nearly fell out of the chair, and all of you exchanged various looks. If the way Jeff was smirking at Britta said anything, there was some new weird sexually charged adventure to be had between the two, and you were not ready to be in another one of those. You had done your time last week, and you weren't eager to repeat it.

"Actually, you're very late, Britta. See you later!" You slammed your Spanish textbook down on the table with an overly cheesy smile to punctuate the end of your sentence. Britta jumped at the loud noise, hissing at you to shut up, but you were already walking out of the room by then. If the shuffling behind you told you anything, it was that the rest of the group had done the same. Sans Britta and Jeff, per usual.

You tilted your body sideways as you navigated through the busy hall full of various highschool dropouts and divorced parents, letting the sound of tennis shoes squeaking against the floors bounce around in your head. It was more annoying than usual today, and it took you a second to realize that it wasn't the shoes making the noise, but rather Troy as he called after you.

“Hey! Hey! Wait up!" He wheezed. "You are very fast when you want to be!” The athlete gasped for breath when you finally slowed down. Coming to a stop as you turned around to face him, you saw another pair of legs enter your line of sight. This time much thinner, and accompanied with a wicker basket full of various baked goodies.

“Troy, I know you like to have someone hold your hand as you walk to class, but normally that's Abed’s job. Please don't allow me to take that pleasure from him.” You said, face completely blank. If you looked hard enough, you thought Abed’s nose flared a bit to insinuate a laugh.

“No, that’s not what I'm here to— hey how did you know that?” Troy took another gulp of air as his brows furrowed.

“I took a guess based on the way both your bodies and hands are angled apart each morning as you walk into Senior Chang’s class. Also, when you eat Cheetos, it rubs off onto the back of Abed's palm.”

“I don't eat Cheetos that much.” Troy frowned. “Do I? For the record I am not gay." Troy made sure to ennunciate that last part as he stared you down. His facial expression reminded you of a nervous first grader doing a bad job in their school play.

“You do, and that's not important right now.” Abed answered back. His head snapped to you with the same amount of intensity that he always got when thinking of a movie reference, and you got the sense he was holding back for the sake of the conversation.

Raising both eyebrows, you motioned for them to go on. The hallway was clearing out a bit more, and you didn't want to be caught late for Changs class a third time in a row. Last time he threatened to beat you with maracas, and you wouldn't put it past him to actually carry through with it this time.

“Listen, we have something important to say.” Troy began. Abed backed him up with a furious nod, or his equivalent of it. Which really just boiled down to a regular paced nod.

"Is this about Valentine's day? You should ask Shirley about that."

"Come on man!" Troy threw his hands in the air, turning away from the both of you and crossing his arms. "How did you possibly come to that conclusion so fast?!"

"We were just talking about us holding hands."

"Thank you Abed." The both of you said at the same time. Albeit Troy with a little more teeth grinding then nessicary.

"Did you become a ninja overnight? Did you take a ninja class?" Troy took a step forward as he pointed his forefinger in your face. You stared at it as it approached, going cross-eyed momentarily.

"Yes. And if you did, I would like the name to that class." Abed pipped up.

"No, I didn't go to a ninja class." You said while pushing Troy's arm down. "Does this mean I'm right?"

The lack of response from Troy and Abed's unbothered expression provided you with your answer.

"Are you two trying to ask for dating advice or something?" You frowned as you started to walk in the direction of Spanish. Both of them followed as you fixed your backpack strap. "Because if so, Troy you could learn a lot from Abed. And Abed, if you're having a problem, I don't know how to make you anymore appealing to the ladies than you already are."

"It's true." He responded, looking off into what he probably thought was the fourth wall. "I am devilishly irresistible."

"Stop that!" Troy waved his hand in front of his friends face, bringing both their attentions back to you. "Listen. We were wondering how to go about asking the same person to the dance tonight."

"Oh. So like a love triangle thing? I never liked that troupe."

"No no." Troy shut his eyes as he shook his head. "More of like, uh—"

"Neither of us exactly know." Abed cut Troy off in a matter of fact manor. "We both see ourselves hanging out with them at the dance, but aren't exactly jealous of the other being there too."

"If you wanted me to I could crack open Websters dictionary to find a word for that."

"No thank you." Abed echoed. You simply shrugged.

"Okay. So what do you want me to do about it?" You questioned while turning a corner to another hallway. The three of you were nearly at Spanish now, but this conversation had pulled you in more than conjugating verbs ever could.

"We don't. Exactly know how to ask this person to go to the dance." Troy sucked in a breath.

"You guys have seen plenty of movies. Do the typical thing. Flowers, chocolate, and not what they do in your sci-fi movies Abed." You grinned at him knowingly as you passed through the doorway to class. "Personally I'd take kickpunching robots over literally anything ever, but I tend to be the exception for most things."

"It's not a date though. It's, like, three really close people hanging out. Not in a gay way though! I like girls! With boobs. Yes." Troy stammered as you all plopped into your rickety seats.

"Nice save Troy." Senior Chang called from the front of class with a snicker. He brought his feet down off his teachers desk to lean forward and cup his hands around his mouth. "Or should I call you gay-lord!"

"I really hate this language requirement." Troy grumbled, sinking into his chair. You snorted as Abed stiffly reached his hand out to pat his shoulder, making robot sounds as he did so.

"Cheer up." You allowed yourself a shit eating grin. "It is Valentine's day after all."

“Well that was a disaster.” You said over the sound of a ringing bell. Students and teachers alike passed you and Annie by as the two of you made your way through the hall, neither of them seeming to care very much if they bumped into you or not. To say that’d you’d almost gotten into a fight or two due to traffic here would be an understatement.

“I don’t know.” Annie frowned. She brushed her hair out of her face and clutched her books to the front of her chest. You made a face subconsciously, the sight reminding you all too much of the stereotypical school girl. “I thought it was very mean of Senior Chang to do that to Troy! And Pierce, I guess.”

“Annie. He called a balding senior citizen and a lonely freshman out on their sad Valentine’s Day gifts to themselves. It’s Chang. Of course it’s mean. But mean things can also be also be disasters.”

The girl next to you seemed to think about your words for a second. Furrowing her brows once or twice, she eventually let out what you could only describe as a harumph.

“Well I think we should do something about it!”

“Pass.” You said without a seconds hesitation. Annie deflated a bit at that and eyed the tips of her shoes. You stole a look down at her, and let out a sigh.

“You know me. I’m such a big fan of sticking my nose in other peoples business when it doesn’t belong— “ Sarcasm. “— but I think you and Shirley would be a better duo for this. She’s ruthless when she sets her mind to it, and you’re crafty in the way that you could have written the script for the movie Seven if you wanted to. Probably.”

“Aww thanks! I think.” Annie beamed. She regained some pep in her step as she skipped ahead of you, only turning back to say one more thing to you. “No wonder Troy and Abed like to talk about you so much. So many obscure movie references between you guys. Cute!”

“Seven was a box office hit, Annie— “ You began with the hint of a frown tugging at your lips, but she was already off. No doubt to find Shirley before lunch so they could cook up their plan in a flurry of giggles. That only left you with one more question.

“They talk about me?”

Jeff huffed as he walked into the near empty classroom. His hands, which he had spent the last three minutes nervously slathering in expensive lotion as a part of his mid-day exfoliation routine, were stuffed deep into his jacket pockets. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to this interaction, but sometimes he’d throw his better judgment out the window. Sometimes.

Raising a single eyebrow, he glanced around at the spare video equipment set up; the bulk of which was sat right in front of his target. The former lawyer ignored as a kid in a yellow button up kicked a trash can across the room, instead making a beeline for Abed. Who was giving directions rather loudly to the angry kid.

“Wow. Do you normally deal with divas like this?” Jeff flashed his signature charming smile while commenting on the temper tantrum. Better to be friendly and break the ice rather than dive right in. Otherwise you’d scare people off. He learned that while working at the firm.

“One Papa Johns commercial, and he thinks he’s Christian Bale.” Abed pursed his lips comically.

“Look, uh— “ Jeff began to steer away from the topic of the questionable kid as he pulls Abed’s attention in. “You were right earlier. During Spanish. Britta is being weird around me, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“By being right, do you mean my prediction that the accidental booty call she sent you while drunk is going to cause the imminent breakup of our fragile group?”

Jeff blinked.

“Yeah. That.” He spat out.

“Nice. So what can I do for you?” Abed leaned back into his makeshift directors chair while crossing his legs. “Do you need a drunk voicemail of your own to send to her so the score will be evened? Because I have nowhere to be for the next twenty four hours and personal dilema to avoid.”

Jeff inhaled with the intent to bulldoze over the younger mans statement, but ended up falling flat.

“Ignoring that last part, yeah I do, actually. How did you know that?” He squinted. Jeff would never admit it, but sometimes it creeped him out how easily Abed could predict what people would say next.

“Classic sitcom staple.” Abed shrugged without changing his expression one bit. “Goes hand in hand with the booty call. Now— “ He leaned forward with a glint in his eye. One that Jeff didn’t quite like.

“How well can you act?”

You don’t know how you ended up here, and you had been ready to leave the moment you arrived.

A faint punch stain from years ago sat at the hem off of your slacks, reminiscent of a house party from a year ago that had ended in disarray. They were the good slacks too. Paired with what was thankfully an unstained button up polo shirt. This was the closest anyone was going get to fancy from you tonight.

Various pink and red hues cascaded across the dance floor, playing into the Valentine’s Day theme as the schools mascot continued to prowl around on the dance floor. You were sure that the dean would be happy with himself over that if it wasn’t for the fact that couples were making out everywhere. It was pretty fun watching him try to break them all up, actually. You’d made a little game out of it with how long you’d been standing at the punch table.

The toe of your shoe came in contact with a stray balloon from one of the tables centerpieces. With a downward twitch of your lips, you picked the rubbery material up into your hands and started messing with it. Sounds of latex on skin distracted you from all of the screeching and poor singing.

“Not having a lot of fun, huh?” A voice from your left asked.

Glancing near the onion rings that had been laid out as finger food, you saw the familiar form Britta peering at you from under some fake eyelashes. That would have been more of a shock to you if the skimpy red dress she was wearing didn’t overshadow it.

“Hey there.” You avoided her question as you threw the balloon back into the crowd it had come from. “Great disco ball costume. Very sparkly.”

“Ha ha.” She mocked you before crossing your arms. “For the record, I still think Valentine’s Day is a sham. I’m just doing this to see Jeff squirm.”

“Ah. Well then, I’m sure all of the women out there will forgive you for your transgressions.” You teased her with an empty smile.

Britta let out a cross between a laugh and a huff, gaze straying from you to look out at the mass you launched your balloon into. Occasionally someone in unusually high heels would fall, only to be swept back up into the bobbing heads.

“Have you talked to Troy lately?” Britta cut in suddenly. The tone of her voice made you narrow your eyes, and you hummed out a suspicious no.

“That question is both too casual and well delivered on a night like this to have come from you. What’s going on.” You had fully abandoned kicking around stray balloons for talking with her. Or at least, staring at her forehead while she talked. You didn’t know if you could manage eye contact right now.

“He was looking for you earlier at lunch. While sweating. A lot.” Britta scrunched her nose up as if she could still smell the body odor. “Sounded like he wanted to ask you something.”

You looked away from her for a moment, temporarily overcome with a feeling of nausea.

“Oh, yeah. My bad. I was in the study room.” A pause. “Studying.”

“Troy said that he checked there beforehand.” It was Britta’s turn to squint at you. “Why are you the one acting weird now?”

Rubbing at the back of your neck proved as a temporary relief to her question. Inhaling through your mouth, you pulled out your phone and messed with it for a second.

“I got a weird voicemail from Abed today. The main part is him talking to me about the dance scene from Breakfast Club, I think, and some weird phone thing with Jeff and you— " Britta coughed into her hand at that “— but the last few seconds really threw me.”

You opened your mouth to continue the story, but quickly shut it once you saw that Britta wasn’t paying attention anymore. You didn’t even have to follow her line of sight to know she was staring at a dejected looking Jeff— who had been standing by the cusp of the exit for six minutes now. You didn’t even have to nod at her to go before she took off, awkwardly waddling in her stilletos in an attempt to not trip.

It only took a few more minutes of watching the two of them go back and forth for you to give up on anything exciting happening to you. With a halfhearted grumble, you took one last grab at the punch bowl before starting towards the double doors. You hoped the juice had been spiked. If you made all this effort to show up to some lame school thing, might as well get a little tipsy.

“Well this is awkward.”

A harsh cough came from your throat as you choked on your own spit. In an attempt to make yourself feel better, you turned around to glare at whoever had scared you, only to start coughing more.

“Abed?” You wheezed. Letting out another round of coughs, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the sunglasses on his face.

“I came as fast as I could when I realized Troy was stuck as Senior Changs whore for the night.” He looked at you calmly as you continued to die a little right in front of him.

Finally taking one more gulp of punch from the table, you calmed down enough to string together a sentence.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Let me explain for any in the audience that might have missed it while in the bathroom.” Abed held up a finger. All you could do was deadpan weakly at him.

“Both Troy and I approached you a little bit ago saying that we had something important to say to you. He worded it wrong. We were supposed to ask you something, not tell you. Instead, Troy allowed Senior Chang’s torture to ruin that question, and later I with Jeff and Britta’s voicemail problems”

“Their what’s? What is going on with voicemails today.”

“Not important.” Abed carried on. “What’s important is that while I was fulfilling the spot of Jeff’s drinking buddy, I realized something.”

“That you shouldn’t be drinking??” You questioned wildly. It was beginning to feel like this night was a special episode in a really bad main cable show. Either that or this place was finally getting to you.

“No. I realized that while Troy was fitting himself and Pierce into extra tight women’s suits, that we would miss the opportunity to ask you what we wanted to. I called Troy to tell him to go look for you, but only after sending a call to you that I do not remember the contents of. I assume you have it?” He blinked owlishly.

With a pair of very wide and very confused eyes, you grabbed your phone for the second time that night and shook it with a loose wrist. The audio from a few hours ago began to play faintly. It’s sound was swallowed by the bass of the dances music, but the both of you could still make the words out. Abed’s voice tumbled out at twice the speed it normally does, his energy no doubt heightened by alcohol.

“— e’re sort of like Marty McFly and Jennifer Parker, but there’s three of us. Have you seen the second movie? I need to show you the second movie. There’s more of Jennifer in that than the first. And Martys mom isn’t trying to get with him. Oh, and you don’t have to have a time traveling car for us to want to go to the dance with you. Although that would be nice. Jeff stop drooling on tha —"

Abed looked at it silently as the message continued to run. It was as if he expected nothing more from its contents. For a second you wondered how he’d react to the twenty minutes before that where all he talks about is Breakfast Club, but you figured it would be the same.

The feeling of nausea from earlier was back, and this time was trying to crawl out of your throat with a ferocity. Swallowing both your nerves and that not so metaphorical metaphor, you inhaled.

“So. Troy’s okay with this?” You asked cautiously, as if this was a dubious prank. Abed nodded almost immediately after you asked. The nausea subsided.

“And you’re okay with this?”

Another nod.

“Alright.” You shuffled. It felt like ten pounds had been lifted off your chest, and you didn't know how to express that. “I’ll go to the dance. With the both of you.”

A brief period of silence stretched between the two of you. The lights continued to flair, and the music continued to shake the floorboards, but none of you moved.

“Abed?”

“Sorry. You made me so happy I peed a little, and didn’t want to say anything.”

The corner of your mouth lifted up once. Twice. It only took one more time for a tirade of laughter to escape you all in one go. Abed’s unmoving expression just watched as you laughed to yourself, waiting patiently until you had stopped. When you paused to catch your breath, Abed placed a hand on your shoulder and looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

“Normally this doesn’t happen in shows.” He hummed. “Do you think that this is a way of adding some diversity in the form of a polyamorous couple at a community college?”

“How about no lables?” You suggested. “It feels weird. What if it was just me, you, and Troy for now.”

Abed repeated your words under his breath, mumbling a little. He lifted his head back up to you with his thought on the proposition, which arrived in the form of a steady thumbs up.

“Cool. Cool cool cool.” You grinned at him. Abed’s nose flared at your use of his unspoken catchphrase, and he turned away from you to cup his hands around his mouth.

"They said yes!" He told the figure dancing on the floor; the likes of which responded with a yell of victory before getting back to it. It took you a minute to get past the skintight blue suit and floral scarf to realize who it was.

"Troy?!" You sputtered with an open mouth. He looked at you at the mention of his name with a painful smile before turning back to his dance partner with a dramatic sob.

"What is he wearing? And why is Senior Chang— oh god." Your eyes widened, unable to look away. "I think I'm going to puke."

"It's better if you don't question it." Abed told you, his hand just a few inches shy of touching his eyes as he hid behind it.

"Give me your hand Abed." You said blankly. Without questioning you, he held it out. You were quick to sheild your own eyes from the dancing.

"So." You turned your head to look at him after a moment of gross silence, both of his hands still in the air. "Movie date tonight when Troy is released from captivity?"

"I've been waiting forever for you to ask that."

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luminalunii97 · 1 year

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A quick update on what's been going on in Iran

In the last month or so, the street protests have decreased. There have been sporadic demonstrations here and there but the fire from the first three months has paled. I believe soon the fire is going to be back because the financial situation is getting worse by hour now and the regime, instead of appealing to people's good side, has been enforcing inhuman laws stronger than before.

On the 40th day memorial of 2 of the executed protesters, the fire did come back alive and there were multiple big demonstrations in many cities around Iran.

The obligatory hijab law is being enforced harsher than before. Many of my fellow iranian women still refuse to wear hijab out considering all the risks. In the last two weeks, at least two drugstores have been closed because the pharmacist owning the place refused to wear hijab. A couple of higher education students have been banned from using the national library because they took off their hijab inside of the library, and many university students have been forced to sign statements that said they promise to not take their hijab off again or else they're going to be expelled from university and they won't be able to attend any university inside of Iran again. The regime has also threatened women who don't wear hijab on the streets that they would disable their id cards and ban them from receiving social services.

A female engineer also did something really courageous in an event and I suggest you check that out. The news links are below.

More than a week before the earthquake in Turkey and Syria, there was an earthquake in Khoy, a northwestern city in Iran. Not only the Islamic Republic didn't send any help to the city, they tried so hard to stop us, people, from sending help there. They restricted some of the celebrities bank accounts and prevented people from raising money for the city. Turkey even offered their aid but the regime refused. People of other cities did send some food and clothes and blankets for the victims of the earthquake in the end. Even though the casualties of the earthquake wasn't high, many people lost their homes and had to reside in tents in cold snowy weather. But the most bewildering thing was that when the turkey earthquake happened the Islamic Republic volunteered to send help to Syria while still doing nothing for the people in Khoy. Unsurprisingly the help packages they sent to Syria didn't reach the places where earthquake happened, instead it went to Assad inventory.

Also this guy, a true hero. A human rights activist to his very core:

This is it for now. I appreciate anyone who has supported people of iran so far. We won't forget you. Woman life freedom ✌️

#iran #mahsa amini #jina amini #human rights #iran protests #politics #feminism #middle east #obligatory hijab #heroes of the year #iranian women

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ladytauria · 5 months

Note

A hello/good-bye kiss that is given without thinking - where neither person thinks twice about it. is so jaytim

you’re right nonny it so is

my first impulse was like—the two of them getting accidentally domestic, bc i love characters falling into relationships without realizing it xD

but then this scenario popped in my head & that’s what came out instead~

>> AO3 <<

Jason hasn’t been sleeping well.

His rest is troubled on a good day, and he hasn’t had many over the last week.

Well. It’s not that he’s had bad days, it’s just…

He misses Tim.

It’s stupid, because his bedroom is literally right across from Tim’s, but— It might as well be on the other side of the world.

He wishes they’d never agreed to stay at the manor for the holidays. It’s been miserable. Sure, he and Bruce are setting a record streak for lack of arguments. It’s been fun to hang out with the others, too, outside of the Cave and the mask. But—

Fuck.

The closest he’s gotten to a proper cuddle in a week was movie night, when he sat on the floor just to have an excuse to lean against Tim’s legs.

Jason knows he only has himself to blame. He’s the one who’s not ready to tell the others that they’re dating, even though they’ve damn near moved in together at this point. He just—he’s not ready for the judgment. The lectures, the shovel talks, the—everything. The reminder he’s not really good enough for Tim.

Knowing that doesn’t make it any easier.

Neither do the small, fleeting moments they manage to steal—the kisses they exchange in the lesser used parts of the manor, the brief hugs and touches they can exchange in front of the others. It’s. It’s fucking miserable.

He’s spent the last several nights lying awake, actively restraining himself from sneaking into Tim’s room. He just… He misses being held.

It’s the lack of sleep he’ll blame his slip-up on later, when all is said and done.

Tim’s got some stuff to do in the city today—Jason does too, but not until later—so Jason takes the liberty of making him a coffee and some breakfast to go, since he knows Tim won’t be down until it’s almost time to leave. He gets a couple of raised eyebrows, but, it’s not unusual for him to take the load off of Alfred, so no one actually says anything.

“You said you had plans today, right, Jason?” Dick asks, where he’s sitting at the breakfast table with Steph, Damian, Cass, and Duke. Bruce is standing with Alfred, the butler adjusting his tie like Bruce is twelve, and not forty-something.

“Yeah,” Jason says. “I’ll be gone for a couple hours.” First he has some packages to pick up, and also, every other week, he does story time at the library he used to half-live in as a child.

Tim shuffles in. Jason is glad Bruce will be driving—he looks like a zombie (and Jason would know). It takes him half a moment to spot the travel cup and paper bag sitting by Jason. He beelines over.

“Th’nks,” he mumbles, immediately popping the lid on his cup to take a long drink.

“Cool,” Dick says. “When you get back I was thinking we could break out the board games.”

Alfred finishes with Bruce. “Provided you all remember the rules, I think that sounds like a splendid idea, Master Dick.”

Jason snorts. One of these years they’re going to have all board and card games banned from the Manor.

“Ready to go, Tim?” Bruce asks.

“Sure, Dickie,” he says. “I’d love a chance to kick your ass.” His fingers catch in Tim’s belt loop before he can head to the door. He leans in, thoughtlessly, planting a chaste kiss on Tim’s mouth. “Have a good day, babe.”

Tim hums, smiling softly up at him. “You too.”

Jason almost doesn’t register the silence.

Then—

“What the fuck?” Stephanie breaks it, and Jason is reminded, abruptly, that they’re not alone.

The blood rushes to his face so quickly he’s surprised he doesn’t pass out; his skin ablaze with his embarrassment. “…fuck.”

That’s one way to announce their relationship.

[ 50 types of kisses ]

#jaytim #timjay #dcu #tauriawritesfanfic #lovely anons #asks and answers #to those of you i told i was going to sleep early tonight #i… well. i did try i promise #i’m so tired but i cant sleep so #i wrote a fic instead #& i hope my exhaustion isn’t too obvious lol

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callunavulgari · 5 months

Text

Top 25 Fics of 2023

1. whatever you want by Wildehack (tyleet) | Wolf 359 | Kepler/Jacobi | 5k

Kepler doesn't fuck him that first day, when Daniel swallows his pride like it's a hot coal he can feel boiling down to the pit of his stomach and dials the number left on the card. Heather Says: Back in 2017, Wolf 359 changed my life. I relisten to it every year. I reread fic. I sometimes write it. And THIS year, I was blessed with one of my favorites writing my favorites from Wolf 359. It's honestly exactly what I wanted out of a Wolf 359 fix it/coda.

2. god was a dog-man by @andthepeople | Teen Wolf | Derek/Stiles | 13k

“Do you have a secret teenage son?” Stiles demands, as soon as Derek opens the door. Heather Says: I did NOT watch the Teen Wolf movie this year. I did, however, relentlessly stalk reaction posts and (very select) gifsets. I also read this fantastic fic, which is now the movie in my brain because since I didn't see it, I'll never know.

3. then out of nowhere, somebody comes and hits you with an ooh la la la, ooh la la la, ooh la la la, ooh by @calciseptine | Deadpool | Peter/Wade | 49k

A man with spider-themed superpowers accidentally breaks into Wade's apartment. Heather Says: Deadpool is one of those fandoms that I'm technically a part of because I like it and I think Spiderman and Deadpool is both hilarious and hot, but it's always just on the edge of my peripherals. But sometimes Steve's fic just kind of creeps on me and demands my attention. This was my feel good fic this spring.

4. By the Laws of Magic by Lenore | The Sandman | Dream/Hob | 32k

It’s 1959, and Hob Gadling is working at a London auction house, amazing his colleagues with his uncanny knowledge of art and artifacts from the 14th century on. When he gets the assignment to catalogue a family library at a place called Fawney Rig, he looks forward to a working vacation in the country. What he finds is a house with a preternatural chill where odd disturbances happen daily, an ornate carved door with a secret clearly hidden behind it, and visions of his mysterious stranger every time he turns around. Heather Says: I honestly love this ship. The fairy tale elements combined with the very compelling idea that in another universe much like this one, Hob Gadling ends up saving Dream from his glass prison made for some truly great fiction.

5. Dawnshot Through the Heart by @sirnotappearinginthisblog | Wax&Wayne series | Wax/Wayne | WIP | 80k

Ten years ago, Wayne fled instead of letting himself get arrested for murder. He’s been an outlaw ever since, keeping one step ahead of the lawkeepers who want him dead or alive—especially Dawnshot. But his luck was bound to run out eventually, and he knows how it always ends for the Bad Guys in stories. Heather Says: I think that this is the only WIP on here but I cannot rightfully leave it off because I LOVED this fic this year. I love the Mistborn series, but I've never really sought out fic for it before. This one though, this one found me. The writing is SUPERB and I wish it was a bigger fandom because it deserves so much love, you guys. It's so so so good. I love Wax and Wayne's dynamic in the series. They're great. But also- what if they had an enemies to lovers thing going on that turned poly? WHAT IF?!

6. One Size Fits All by @entanglednow | Stranger Things | Eddie/Steve | 65k

Steve just wanted to do something nice for a friend, he doesn't mean to get Eddie's ring stuck on his finger, and it's definitely not his fault that everyone he knows is jumping to conclusions. Heather Says: This is not the last time that you will see this author or this ship on this list. I really would have thought that Steddie would have crept out of my brain right now, but NOPE. And part of that is because every couple weeks entanglednow drops an absolute BANGER of a fic that obliterates my brain for anything else.

7. you are spring by @wildehacked | Supernatural | Castiel/Dean | 20k

God makes a wish. His parents work some things out. Heather Says: I got very close to leaving this one off the list, not because it wasn't good or that it wasn't one of my top 25 but purely because I've been out of the Supernatural fandom for so many years. I mean, c'mon. I didn't watch the last FIVE seasons. However, getting to follow along wildehacked's rewatch journey on twitter was a blast from the past and then THIS lovely shining fic that they churned out lured me back in for one last nibble at this ship that took over my life for the better part of a decade. It is so incredibly amazing and since I never finished the series, I will happily go on pretending that this is how it ended.

8. Interim by starkraving | BotW/TOtK | Ganondorf/Link/Zelda | 95k

She has no throne. Girls without thrones should not have knights, but hers won’t go. Princess Zelda – the girl who killed Calamity – would love to fade into legend, but Link’s bought a house, he’s fighting off monsters, and he’s selling giant horses to strangely familiar Gerudo men. She'll never have any peace now. Heather Says: This fic. THIS FIC. Is so richly built. Is so intoxicating. It leans into found family. You spend chapter after chapter watching Zelda and Link traverse Hyrule with the hot Gerudo that they met along the way after the events of the first game. And it is so fucking compelling. Honestly, while I'm happy that they smooched, I would have been completely fine reading another 100k of just these three wandering Hyrule together, being absolute goblins. 10 out 10, will read again.

9. one hundred years past by tciddaemina | BotW/TotK | Ganondorf/Link | 38k

Link wakes up a century early. It changes everything. Heather Says: Can you tell that playing Tears of the Kingdom left me desperately thirsty for any and all Ganondorf content this summer? I'm a sucker for all sides of the poly triforce but I'll admit that Ganondorf and Link scratches that enemies to lovers itch PERFECTLY if it's done well. And this one is done well.

10. Step Right Up by entanglednow | Stranger Things | Steve/Eddie | 3k

Steve had mostly given up on trying to meet anyone new after everything, but it's been six months and his friends had started giving him pointed nudges to get out there again. Heather Says: Told you it wouldn't be the last you saw of entanglednow. I actually think that this might be my favorite fic that they've written? Which is saying a lot because I will scream it to the rafters that any Steddie fan should read their fic. But this is FUN HOUSE MIRROR MAZE and MISTAKEN IDENTITY KISSING. Guys, I have no chill about this fic. I have no chill about Steve's hands in Eddie's hair, or the sounds that he makes, or the smell of strawberry. It is just so so good.

11. the most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway is that it’s you by @greatunironic | Stranger Things | Steve/Eddie | 35k

Sixteen years after the world didn't end for the last time, Max Mayfield showed up on Steve’s doorstep and said, “You gonna walk me down the aisle in May or what?” Or, it’s 2002 and Steve Harrington attends a wedding, a funeral, and a birth. Heather Says: I genuinely do not think that I have words for this one. It is one of those all encompassing fics that sucks you in and just won't spit you out again. It hurts, an ache just under the breastbone. But god, it's so beautiful.

12. Fight Night by @rlnerdgirl | Teen Wolf | Derek/Stiles | 12k

Stiles starts fighting in college. He doesn't tell anyone. Heather Says: There are three...? Yeah, three Teen Wolf fics on this list. Three. Like it's 2015 again. Like my brain broke and time went ticking all the way back to when I was ridiculously invested in these characters. But honestly? All three Teen Wolf fics on this list are incredibly therapeutic. They get to be the ending for me instead of whatever clusterfuck good ole Jeff tried to pull. This one in particular is fantastic because it's canon-divergence after SEASON one. Yes, we have Erica and Boyd. Yes, Stiles is BAMF. It's a good read.

13. strange fear i ain’t felt for years by Sister | Batman | Tim/Jason | 31k

“Can’t believe a pretty thing like you has to come begging to the Red Hood,” he says against Tim’s neck. “Thought they’d be lining up down the block for you. Thought Daddy would need to get the shotgun.” Heather Says: Oh look, another ship and fandom that I was only peripherally aware of that had me in a chokehold for a good month and a half. I don't even like DC that much.

14. Silver-Tongue by starkraving | Baldur's Gate 3 | Astarion/Karlach | 9k

Astarion fast-talks an abnormal number of enemies into killing themselves in the shadow-cursed lands and the team makes idle (then less idle) conversation about it. Heather Says: Okay, so I STILL have not finished this game. I have however very carefully consumed as much content as I can get my hands on without being completely and totally spoiled. This was the first fic that I really loved in this fandom. It's no surprise that I ship Astarion happily with everyone, but damn is he good with Karlach in this one. Their characterization is perfect.

15. A Sign of The Morning by ToEdenandBackAgain | Stranger Things | Eddie/Steve | 86k

Vecna is dead. The Upside Down is cut off from Hawkins yet again. Steve is trying to go back to normal, whatever that is. He's also trying to figure out exactly how Eddie Munson has managed to fit so easily into his life. Heather Says: Honestly? What can I say about this one? It has 19,000 kudos despite being published last June. It's on a ridiculous number of collection/rec lists. The tension is exquisite. The found family? Even better.

16. Phantom of Truth by Haiju | Danny Phantom | Maddie Fenton & Danny Fenton | 58k

Locked away in a secret government lab with Phantom as her sole object of study, nothing stands between Maddie and the truth... except, perhaps, herself. Heather Says: Oh look, another fandom that I have never ever been a part of. I saw this REALLY NEAT and angsty tiktok (tw for ghosty gore) and basically immediately was sucked into a show that I've never even watched before. The comments lead me to this fic which is perfectly gen, angsty, and honestly absolutely perfect. I cannot get over how much I loved this.

17. Manacled by senlinyu | Harry Potter | Draco/Hermione | 370k

Harry Potter is dead. In the aftermath of the war, in order to strengthen the might of the magical world, Voldemort enacts a repopulation effort. Heather Says: I did the thing. I read the incredibly dark fic that I've been avoiding since 2018. I typically steer-clear of anything that is overly bleak and I do not tiptoe into non-con waters often. But one of our groomsmen who isn't even involved with fandom read this so that his girlfriend would watch Star Wars with him and then spent a good portion of a Halloween party talking it up. So I gave it a shot. Over all, it is too bleak for me. That said, I finished it in a weekend. I loved it. I hated it. I wish I'd broken it up over a longer period of time because the emotional bleed off of it was intense.

18. Ready for Love by @idiopathicsmile | Singin in the Rain | Cosmo/Kathy/Don | 12k

Don and Kathy would move in together. They would have a dog or two and then inevitably, a small parade of adorable little brats who would call him Uncle Cosmo, and they would spend less and less time with him, not on purpose but busy with the rest of their lives, and ultimately Cosmo would learn to make his peace with it because he’d have no other choice and he would have to try to move on and not live too much in his memories. He could picture it so clearly, he figured if the songwriting gig with Monumental didn’t pan out, he could always return to the backwater circuit with a new act: The Amazing Cosmo of the Cosmos—ladies and gentlemen, he sees the future, he reads the stars, he silently pines for his best married pal and all the while tap dancing! Don and Kathy inviting him along on their honeymoon, though—that part was a surprise. Heather Says: I LOVE this movie. It is one of my biggest comfort movies. I watch it to feel happy. I watch it when I'm sad. And I have always shipped these three but NEVER read fic for it. And honestly? I'm glad I waited for a good fic to find me because this one was perfect.

19. A Series of Forgettable Events by @trensu | Stranger Things | Steve/Eddie | 27k

Steve wanted to be a dad more than anything. Unfortunately, he was a single dude in his thirties which meant no adoption agency in the world was willing to give him a chance. Or at least no human adoption agency. Heather Says: Honestly just a delightful little jaunt in a world where Steve wants to be a dad, Eddie is a very overprotective siren, and the kids are, well. Little horrors. I love it. There's a sequel now which I am very patiently waiting to read it until I am less busy in RL.

20. the dry sand of daylight by @andthepeople | Inception | Arthur/Eames | 15k

Arthur is married to Eames for the better part of a decade. Then he wakes up. Heather Says: This fic left me ACHING for the Inception fandom circa 2010-2012. When livejournal was still a thing and the fandom community was alive and thriving. It is so achingly tender and perfect. I had forgotten how much I loved them.

21. brutalist masterpieces by @greatunironic | Stranger Things | Steve/Eddie | 12k

Ten years on, in a town in Nova Scotia, on the edge of the Atlantic, Eddie finds Steve again, and also maybe himself. Heather Says: Maybe that's my thing this year. Achingly sweet tender pieces that leave you reeling in the aftermath. This fic is SO incredibly beautiful.

22. What Made Milwaukee Famous by synthetica | Danny Phantom | Vlad/Danny | 30k

Ten years after establishing a tenuous truce, Danny crash-lands at Vlad's Milwaukee lakehouse with a particularly nasty wound, three days recovery time, and absolutely nothing to do but talk to his long-lost archnemesis. Heather Says: I'm told that this is something of a rarepair. However, from the limited information that I have from the series I can say with full certainty that two ghostly beings locked for years as enemies growing up and meeting in the middle? Fully my thing.

23. then now and always by @raisesomehale | Teen Wolf | Derek/Stiles | 13k

Stiles is stuck. Stiles is stuck in the fucking snow in the middle of bum-fuck-nowhere at night with a broken down car three days before Christmas, and the nearest tow truck company—over fifty miles away—doesn’t open until morning. Heather Says: And here we have the promised third Teen Wolf fic, the most cathartic of the bunch. I am so so sweet on future fic particularly in this fandom with missed chances. And this one is just so syrupy sweet. It's winter! There's horses! Derek's an alpha! They smooch. Anyway, this is how I cope with a series finale that didn't happen and a movie that doesn't exist.

24. Terminus by @rcmclachlan | Loki | Loki/Mobius | 4k

"Keep me here," he begs against Mobius's lips. "You must keep me here." Heather Says: What do you mean you didn't spend all three replays of the Loki series finale weeping into a pillow? What do you mean you didn't spend the next few days trying to find the perfect coda? What do you mean that you didn't find this fic and positively expire from the sheer fucking tenderness in Mobius' voice? What do you mean? What. do you. mean? Anyway, I know I'm not supposed to have number one favorites. This list exists because I cannot condense it further than 25. But guys, this was my favorite fic this year.

25. Eye Of The Beholder by @entanglednow | Stranger Things | Steve/Eddie | 22k

Eddie works himself up to ask Steve if he can borrow his instant camera, because the type of pictures he wants to take are…not the kind he can get developed in town. Heather Says: And to round it out, another Steddie. This one with sexy photos. The tension is killer.

#heather says what #top 25 #year in review #fic recs #recommendations #2023 #new year's memes #teen wolf #stranger things #loki #inception #supernatural #danny phantom #dc #harry potter

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