#if you see this twice I'm trying to get her to actually show up in tags lol

[feltit-wroteit]

The Nanny Diaries

Art Donaldson x Fem!Reader x Tashi Duncan/Donaldson

The nanny contract you had signed had never mentioned you falling in love with the parents of the child nor them reciprocating the feeling. But, here you were...

Warnings: age gap (reader is in her 20s), nanny!reader, hurt/comfort, poly!relationship, body guard doing his job "badly", intrusive fans

*Yes the title is inspired by a movie♡*

"Lily... Lily, wake up sunshine." You played gently in her hair and whispered ever so slightly in order for her to not wake up in a bad mood. Today was a big day. You were finally going to bring Lily watch her father's match. Something that you had always waited for. Tashi was also excited but was too worried about Art actually performing to get over the moon about it. Art was more than excited to show his little girl how good he could play. It was a motivation that was needed for him.

You had seen him play once or twice before becoming the nanny to his child. That's how you had met them both. Somehow, hanging out in a place full of rich married couples could lend you a well paid job... You had accepted their offer and were now travelling all around the country with the couple and their amazing daughter Lily. She was a sweetheart and loved you to death. While taking care of her, you had fallen in love with her parents. Let's admit it, they were so kind to you and extremely attractive.

Nothing had prepared you for that one night where you were leaving for a week to go see your family for Christmas.

They had let you have a week off and you were packing your things in the bedroom that was reserved to you in their mansion. Suddenly, they both came in without knocking. "Y/n?" You turned around slightly surprised that they were both in your room and smiled at them. "You scared me." You giggled. They smiled and motioned for you to sit down. "Have a seat." You were confused. Why did they want to talk to you right now? "Is something wrong? Did Lily wake up? I can go put her back to sleep if you both want..." They got closer to your bed on which you were sitting and shook their head no at the same time. They were so captivating.

"No... We wanted to ask you something. But, we don't want it to change anything about this nanny contract. Lily values you too much for that." Tashi said while holding Art's hand. "Of course, ask me anything. Did I do something wrong?" You asked them, starting to worry. "No. God, everything except that, Y/n!" Art exclaimed. You looked in his eyes and was reassured by his sincere gaze.

"Do you know what polyamory is?" Tashi asked you and sat down to your right. Your eyes grew wider. "Yeah..." you felt exposed somehow. What were they thinking? "Do you like us Y/n?" Art then asked while sitting to your left. You nodded shyly. "Use your words, sweetie." Tashi said and gently rubbed your thigh. "Yeah." "Both of us? You like both of us the same?" Art started to rub your left thigh and it was all overwhelming. You got up and away from them. "Yes and I'm sorry! I don't know what's wrong with me. You two are married it's wrong of me. I'll be more subtle I swear! Just... please don't fire me. I need this job." They were now looking at you attentively while you shed some tears. "Baby... don't appologize. We're not mad, we just wanted to make sure. Because, we like you too..." Art admitted and got up closer to you to offer you comfort.

"What?" You were now very much confused and mixed up. "Y/n, we took some time to talk and we came to the realization that we want to try something out with you. We would be happy to add a beautiful and amazing woman to our relationship. If you want to try it out that is?" Tashi elaborated and you once again nodded to which the couple laughed softly. "Uh, yeah my words... sorry. Of course I would. Are you sure? When will we start? Does something like this even start?-" You were rambling again until Art put his hand on your right forearm. "When you come back from your Christmas break, we would love to take you on a date. Would you want that, sweetie?" Tashi offered and you smiled brightly. "I would love that." You aknowledged and they both wrapped you in their arms at the same time. "It's a date then." Art pointed out and kissed your cheek. You blushed and hummed yes.

The rest was history.

You had started dating them 1 year ago but it was all a secret to the media. People wouldn't understand and you were not pressed for them to do so. You were happy being their lover and being apart of this incredible family officially.

Lily had finally woken up and smiled at you. "Y/n/n?" Lily knew you were dating her parents. When she learned it five months after you started dating, she wrapped you in her arms and said thank you to her parents which made the three of you tear up. "Yes, Lil?" You took her in your arms and brought her to the bathroom to start the day. "Is dad going to win?" She asked you with worried little eyebrows while you made her sat on the sink counter. "I don't know, Lily. It never is a sure game. Especially the final match." She frowned while you handed her her toothbrush and motioned for her to brush her teeth. "But... I personnaly think he will beat the other guy. But don't say to anyone I said that. Okay?" You whispered and she finally smiled. She nodded excitedly and put her little hand on her heart. "Pinky swear?" You asked her while extending your pinky to her. She lifted hers up and you crossed them together.

When she was done in the bathroom, you helped her get dressed and got dressed yourself. Tashi had bought Lily a cute little, white tennis dress from Tommy Hilfiger that matched hers. You were wearing a pair of beige trousers, a white blouse and some loafers from Tommy too that you had picked up in the store with the help of your two partners. You took Lily's hand and left the hotel to drive up to the tournament.

When you both arrived there, there was no place to walk, litterally. Everybody was screaming and fighting their way to maybe have an autograph of the players. You took Lily in your arms and held her closely to make sure she didn't get hurt. "Y/n/n?" The girl asked for you in a tiny voice. "Yes, Lil?" You rubbed her back with your hand and tried to push through the crowd to get where the security was. "I'm scared..." Lily announced, which broke you're heart. "It's okay sweetie. I've got you, I promise. We're almost there."

When you got to the security you realized that you had forgotten your VIP pass and cursed to yourself making sure Lily didn't hear you. "Hey, I'm sorry?" You said to a guard that had his back facing you. He turned around and looked at you unimpressed. "Hi, sorry. I am VIP but I forgot my pass. Do you maybe have a list with names? I'm on there, I swear." You tried to explain but he was unfazed. "No pass, no entry." He went to turn around but you pleaded. "Please, I am with a child here..." "And what does that do? We've had this a lot. Please just wait like everyone else and don't make me use force." He answered and you groaned after Lily sobbed harder as the fans shouted more. "I'm begging of you, this child is about to have a panic attack. You do not want Art Donaldson and Tashi Donaldson's daughter having a panic attack because of you, trust me."

The guard looked you up and down and sighed. "Call them." He told you coldly. "What?" You asked bewildered. "If they asnwer, then they can prove that they know you. Otherwise..." He tsked at you and you pulled out your phone with difficulty having Lily in your arms. The phone rang and rang and Tashi didn't pick up. Fuck... "You can wait like the rest." Th bodyguard turned around after seeing your exposed face. "No wait-" You were about to make another compromise when you realised it was no use. He wasn't going to listen to you anymore.

That's when you heard it. A fan... "Omg look! That's the Donaldson's daughter!" The girl shreaked and pointed towards Lily in your arms. Then, a plethora of fans made their way towards you two and you held Lily closer. "Can we get a picture?" One boy asked to which you shook your head. "No, I'm sorry but that's a no." The fan's face changed quickly and he frowned. "Who even are you?" He asked and a lot of fans around agreed to his question and you knew it would turn bad.

"Please, I'm her Nanny... She is very anxious right now, it's not the time to cause a scene." You tried to reason with them only for a girl to scream from your left. Lily' sobs were louder and you rubbed her back soothingly trying to keep yourself calm too. "She's kidnapping the Donaldson's daughter! Stop her!" Your eyes blew wide as they all approached you dangerously with death glares.

"Y/n?" A tiny voice whispered afraid in your ears and a tear fell down your face. "I'm so sorry, Lily" While they got closer, you closed your eyes and kept Lily close in your arms.

"Get the fuck away from them!" You heard a familiar voice thunder from behind you. You didn't dare open your eyes afraid you had been dreaming it. You heard footsteps gather away from you and you finally opened your eyes. The fans had gotten away and were looking behind you with scared eyes. You turned around and were met with two sets of eyes. Art and Tashi. You had been right. It had been Tashi ordering them away. They saw your tear streaked face and hurried closer to you.

When Tashi had returned your call from earlier only for it to go to voicemail, she decided that she would come find you. Art had tagged along since his match was only in an hour.

"Y/n?" Art called you while looking at you worried. "Come on let's go..." He whispered when he put his hand on your back. Tashi got closer too and analysed you and her daughter. "Take Lily from my arms, please..." Your voice sounded weak to them and they looked at you turn by turn. Art had a worried expression on his face and Tashi looked more angry. Art took Lily in his left arm and put his right hand on the small of your back from your left. Tashi pur her left hand on top of his and guided you towards the same guard line as before. "Did you try to get through?" She softened her tone for you. You nodded and sighed. "But I forgot my pass at the hotel. I'm so sorry. It's my fault and-" You were explaining when she rubbed your back to reassure you. "Did you try to explain to a guard your situation?" You nodded once more and her jaw ticked. "Okay... let's get you two safe for now." Art proposed when he saw how pissed his wife was.

He lead you four to his locker room and as soon as you were behind closed doors, you broke down in full tears from it all. Art sat down with Lily in his arms that was now asleep from exhaustion from crying so much and Tashi was comforting you. "I'm sorry. I thought I could keep her safe. She could've been hurt." You hiccuped while looking at Lily and sobbing harder. "But she didn't because of you sweetie." Art said and locked eyes with you. You could sense he was getting mad. He had every right to be. Who would forget such an important thing like a pass? "Don't do this. Don't stay in your head... Talk to us?" Tashi asked of you when she started to notice you overthinking. "I know you're both mad at me. I would be too! I put Lily in danger-" Art cut you off at that. "Wow, wow, wow... we're not mad at you!" He was quick to explain.

You now had a confused look and Tashi kissed your lips quickly. "You thought we were mad at you, baby?" You nodded and she giggled to lighten the mood. "Oh god no! We're mad at the stupid guard and crazy fans. Come here!" She opened her arms and you sighed in relief. "Okay now, let's all relax a little before my match and then we can head to the field and have a great time. Yeah?" Art said while rubbing Lily's back and smiling at the two of you. You nodded and sat down with Tashi in front of him. She held you closely while you steadied your breathing.

The match had went well. Lily had woken up and was smiling from ear to ear while her dad made points. It was funny seeing her little frown, looking like her mom's, when the other player made his points. In the end, Art had won and you three cheered from the sideline while he was taking his winning pictures.

That night, at the hotel, Tashi put Lily to bed while you were cuddling with Art in yours. He was peppering mindless kisses all across your forehead and whispering sweet nothings. "I love you, Y/n/n. You know that we love you right? Today I got scared. I was mad, not because of you, but because I didn't know how to help you see that it wasn't your fault. I could never be mad at you, sweetie." He explained while locking his gaze with yours. "I know... I love you more though." You tried to admit while Tashi entered the room in her black babydoll. "Now, what has you lying like that?" She smiled mischeviously at you and got on the bed behind you.

This had always been how you all slept. You in the middle, Art to your left and Tashi to your right. Of course, sometimes that arrangement changed... But primarily, that was the one. "I'm not lying." You said with a smile yourself while getting on your knees to face them easily on the bed. "No... I think you're a little liar." Art said while sitting up and putting his hand on your right knee. He looked at you with desire and your mouth opened slightly. "Don't you think so too, Babe?" He asked Tashi who was also sitting up now and held your left knee. "Oh I think she is..."

Art got closer to your face and kissed your lips harshly. He held the back of your neck with his free hand and Tashi caressed your upper left leg while looking at the both of you. "We don't like liars..." She whispered in your ear and you shivered.

What had you done?

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #tashi duncan #tashi donaldson #tashi duncan x reader #tashi donaldson x reader #challengers #challengers movie #challengers fanfic #challengers x reader #tashi x reader x art #art x reader x tashi #art donaldson x reader x tashi donaldson #art donaldson x reader x tashi duncan #polyamory #poly! #poly! x reader #poly! x you #tashi x you #tashi donaldson x you #tashi duncan x you

[shheep]

I need rottmnt s3 so Cassandra can have her own goongala moment

#rottmnt #Cassandra Jones #Casey Jones #rottmnt 2018 #tmnt #tmnt 2018 #save rottmnt #rottmnt fanart #//eyestrain #i love stupidly bright colours for her #this whole piece was fueled by my tmnt 2012 watch #whenever Casey is onscreen I'm like. say the line!!!! #if you see this twice I'm trying to get her to actually show up in tags lol

[quietwingsinthesky]

Hiiiii! So, a few days ago you were talking about the whole thing with Amy, Rory, and River. And when I saw those posts a thought arose in my head and I wish to share it with you.

Since River grew up with Amy and Rory as Mels. And Mels was Amy's best friend do you think that they ever talked about children? Since I know that it can come up when talking with friends, and like... do you think that Amy might've ever expressed whether or not she wanted children?

And if she didn't, that Mels would've had to listen to her mother say that she doesn't want children? The idea is so heartbreaking and sooo interesting.

What do you think about it?

no, no, see, you're so right and this drives me wild.

because, the way i see it, i don't think amy wanted children. she's somewhere on the 'hasn't thought about it' to 'vaguely negative feelings about it happening' range to me, which falls sharply into 'Not Happening Ever Again' post-s6. (specifically, in terms of having a kid herself, even if she could, i really don't think she would. i do love that she and rory end up adopting a kid later, because that does make sense, for amy pond who grew up alone in one universe with her family swallowed by cracks in time before the doctor helped her set it right again, for her to want to make sure another child won't be alone in the world like she was. getting off-track here.)

and that's so. because the first real memory river/mels has of amy is of amy shooting at her. and depending on how well the silence fucked up the rest of her memory, it might be one of the very first memories she has at all. that's how she met her mother, crying for help and getting a bullet instead. her mother tried to kill her, so of course, you have to think. she must have needed to hear that she was wanted, right? even if she was taken away, even if amy shot her, at some point, melody must have been wanted?

river is good at getting people to do what she wants, but she is very, very bad at subtlety. and mels is younger, has less practice, so when she wants to know this, she's just going to ask. blunt and quick, easy enough because amy's used to the way mels will open her mouth and you just have to be ready to roll with what comes out if you want to keep up. it's why they're such good friends (like mother, like daughter.)

they're nine, and mels asks if amy wants kids, and amy wrinkles up her nose and says she won't have time for children, obviously, once her raggedy doctor finally comes back. they're fifteen, and amy and rory dance will they-won't they in a way that makes mels twitchy to watch, and taunting amy about wanting to have rory's babies is a good way to get on her nerves. but amy calls her gross, tells her she's got more life planned than children would leave room for, and besides, imagine her, a mom? it'd be a disaster.

mels does. a lot. she looks at her mother and just sees her best friend instead. she's not even sure what she wishes was there, but. maybe amy's right. and besides. imagine her, a daughter, instead of the ticking time bomb she really is? it'd be a disaster.

they're sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, and on. mels stands on the outside of a love story that births a universe. and her. how do you compete with that? not that she would know, not yet, she hasn't been there. but it doesn't make her feel any less alienated when amy and rory talk in whispers about a half-remembered world that's bled through to this life, about roman soldiers and boxes and the big bang of belief.

all these memories, they never mention children. on amy's wedding day, she's different, not like someone remembering a dream but someone who lived it. rory stands straighter, won't leave her side, and they're both so much older than they were yesterday. maybe now, right? a wedding's as good a time as any to decide you want kids.

mels not being at amy & rory's wedding is such an obvious lazy way of them trying to explain why they totally didn't just throw this plot twist together at the last minute that i'm not even going to acknowledge it. of course she was at their wedding. she's their best friend. there's too many people around the doctor, and she wasn't ready today of all days, so despite this horrible burning need under her skin to strike, she stays her hand. doesn't let him dance with her because she might just tear his throat out if he gets too close. stays with amy and rory as the maid of honor should. she must have been there for the awkward questions that always gets asked, 'so, any plans for a baby?' 'when am i getting grandkids?' 'oh, you two are going to have gorgeous children together.' standing a few feet from amy in her wedding dress and watching her mother tense and grit her teeth and brush off the questions. watching her look nervously at rory but never ask if he means it when his mom asks him if he'd prefer a son or a daughter, and rory answers 'either one, some day, not anytime soon.'

god i'm just going on and on, aren't i. but really, what's it like to know that amy never changed her mind. the next time she sees them, she's already been born and stolen. i don't like let's kill hitler for. so many reasons. but there is something compelling about how recklessly river lashes out at the world, at the doctor. even her sacrifice at the end is almost suicidal, throwing all her regenerations into this man without knowing if that will even work or if it might kill her to do it. but it makes more sense in the context of someone who has reached the end of a long, long wait for some kind of indication, any kind, that her mother wanted to have her. and finally been told, no. she didn't choose melody.

#like. to be clear also: i don't think the fact that amy didn't want kids and really didn't have a choice in giving birth to river #means that she wouldn't love river. i think it would make their relationship Complicated but i do think amy loves her. so much. #that's her daughter but it's also her best friend. #but like. god. to spend your whole childhood hoping you'll hear about some little glimmer of yourself. #a dream. a passing mention. a debate on baby names. anything. and to hear nothing. #and river is. like. she is really really bad at relationships right? we know this. #the person she's closest to is the doctor and she spends most of her life believing *he doesn't even love her*. #we're talking about someone whose base assumption about everyone is that they will try to hurt her at some point so she should always keep #one hand armed. #and her mother. didn't choose to have her. didn't have that choice. that has to fuck her up a little. #(and also serve as proof that river is. so so bad at knowing when she is loved. because maybe amy didn't choose to have her but she named #melody pond after mels her best friend. she has been choosing river every day for the past however many years since mels decided to come #here and be near her mom and dad even if only as kids. but river still can't see it. #and. given the nature of how the ponds disappear from her life. and we never get any closure about them and river. #you have to wonder if she ever did. river song do you know your mother loves you? #having the melody-as-river reveal be so close to the end of the season and then getting rid of amy & rory before they can actually do #anything with the three of them as a messed up little family unit is the show's biggest crime. because i don't know! i don't know if river #knew her parents loved her! i don't know if she *ever* came to terms with how she was born and how they didn't need to choose her then to #choose her now! i don't know if river ever really felt comfortable thinking of them as her parents rather than her friends? #according to the transcripts. river calls amy 'mother' twice. (and 'mummy' once jokingly.) she calls rory 'father' once. and 'dad' in angel #in manhattan. and it just. it drives insane right? it's almost weirdly formal. like the words aren't right but she knows she should say the #and. and. i don't think i'm ever going to get over river song. #i think that's the takeaway here. #ask #doctor who #river song #amy pond #rory williams

[tinyluvs]

imagine dating spencer and you come to visit or something and make him so distracted that he literally can’t info dump on something and the rest of the team is just shocked

yes yes, a hundred times yes 🤭 thank you so much!

catching a glimpse of yourself in the elevator mirror was the last thing you needed right now. you were covered in paint, your dungarees showing up every coloured streak and hand print against the light denim. you're sure there's paint in your hair but you don't have time to dwell on it, you're late

you'd got stressed, painting your boyfriends apartment on your own, lost track of time and then didn't have the time to change before running out of the apartment, just about managing to remember to grab yours and spencer's lunch on the way

"i'm so sorry i'm late," you sigh and frown as you rush through the bullpen to the collection of desks you're oh so familiar with, "please excuse the state of me,"

spencer turns at the sound of your voice, "hi sweetheart," he hums, looking up at you just as you dip to kiss him quickly before pushing the bag of food onto his lap

"hey," you smile softly at your boyfriend before turning to his colleagues, "hey guys, how are we all?" you ask, getting a mixed bunch of replies back

"how's painting?" derek laughs, looking at your appearance and the state of your clothes

you slide onto spencer's desk, pulling your legs up to sit cross legged, "standing six feet up a ladder trying to hold a tray of paint and a brush is hard, i've nearly fallen off twice," you huff,

spencer hands you the sandwich he knows is yours and then seemingly looks at you properly for the first time since you've been there, "hey," he says, almost breathlessly

"hello?" you question, head tilting slightly, "you've already said hi," you say, looking at emily and jj who just snicker and shrug their shoulders but spencer doesn't reply, "oh before i forget!"

your boyfriend watches you carefully as you produce a piece of paper from the tiny pocket on the front of your dungarees, flapping it around to unfold it, your other hand busy clutching your food

"the living room is next, i need to know how much paint to buy," you explain, handing the paper to him, "the cans are one litre or five litres, i can't figure it out"

truth be told you hadn't bothered to try and work it out, knowing spencer would be able to reel off the answer like it's nothing, naturally, he knew the exact measurements of every wall in his house

the boy stares up at you blankly, big brown eyes soft and sparkly. your cheeks heat up under his gaze, your eyebrows raising slightly, "spence?" you nudge him with your knee

he jumps ever so slightly, his head shaking a bit, "hmm?" he asks before only just registering you've handed him something, his eyes scan over it, "oh!" he blushes, turning his chair to face his desk

"what colour are you doing the living room?" jj asks while she stabs at her salad like it's offending her. you'd consulted the girls with all of the decorating developments.

"a light brown i think, we have so much to hang on the walls," you pause to swallow, "so something neutral," you finish with a slight nod

a door opening to your side grabs your attention, aaron coming out of his office with his lunch. he comes down into the bullpen, sitting on the edge of emily's desk, "the paint fighting back?" he asks you, slight smile creeping over his face

you roll your eyes at him, playfully, while the other laugh at your expense, "very funny but i don't see any of you offering to help"

penelope scoffs, "actually, i did" and she was right, however her idea of getting wine drunk and decorating had been quickly shut down by spencer, the only input he's actually offered up in the whole process

giggling, you turn back to your boyfriend who's been far too quiet, "boy wonder?" you say gently, pushing your fingers through his hair, "got an answer for me?"

usually he would have an answer within seconds, his minutes of silence making you frown, he turns to you with the same frown painted across his face, "i don't know," he says

people around you gasp, loudly too, "what do you mean, you don't know?" emily almost chokes on her lunch, sitting forward to gawp at the boy

"i do not know how much paint we need" he confirms

derek scrambles, pulling his phone out of his pocket, "say it again, i need record of this moment" he pleads while garcia smacks him

"well there's a first," david says, wandering over after hearing spencer say i don't know for possibly the first time, ever

your boy stares at the paper in his hand and then up at you, confused, "i have to go and work it out, excuse me" he says, rushed, as he stands and takes off towards circle table room

after a moment of shocked silence you turn to the team who are all staring directly at you, "i'll go check on him, i wonder what's wrong?" you say to no one in particular as you hop off of the desk

"i think i know," jj sing songs and the others hum in agreement as you hop up the stairs and along the walkway into the room.

when you get into the room spencer is stood in front of the biggest whiteboard you've possibly ever seen, marker in hand though the board is still empty of his handwriting

"spence? angel?" you say quietly, staring at his back as he starts to write the measurements of the walls in his living room, "everything alright?"

he hums, not turning to look at you as he continues to work through the problem, "yeah, fine, just can't think properly when you're around," he admits, "not when you look like that," he turns slightly to look at you

"oh, do you want me to leave?" you're sad, its obvious in your voice. nervously you start fiddling with the sleeves of your sweatshirt

your boyfriend gasps, "no, no, honey that's not what i meant!" he says, holding his arm out. you slide into the space, head resting on his shoulder, "you're so beautiful and i love you so much, so so much, my brain just switches off when you’re around"

"really?" you giggle, looking up at him. he hums and nods his head, a light blush rushes up his neck before taking over his cheeks, "i love you too,"

he's taller than you, forcing you onto your tip toes to kiss him, not caring when someone, emily, whoops from the bullpen. gentle hands squeeze at your waist, while you hold his face with one hand, the other resting on his shoulder

"three litres," spencer mumbles against your mouth, you pull away with a sight hum, forgetting what you'd asked of him, "you need three but it's cheaper to just buy five and have left over, now come back" he huffs, his arm wrapping tighter around you to pull you back in for another kiss

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily!! send prompts to my ask box!

❥ spencer reid masterlist !!

#❥ my works #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fem!readr #criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #❥ spencer reid #❥ spencer reid drabbles #❥ spencer reid fic rec #❥ my spencer works

[ayakashiz]

Alien Stage R6 Analysis

VERY LONG compilation of my interpretations, impressions and unanswered questions about Round 6 of Alien Stage. I just wanted to write this to put all my thoughts in one place so I can finally rest (in pieces). TW for mentions of suic*de/suic*dal ideation.

The most debated is no doubt the kiss/choking scene and Ivan’s motivation for doing so in the first place. 

I think from the very beginning, even before R3, Ivan was planning to go out with a bang. That’s the immediate impression I got from the comic where he mocks/criticizes Sua for planning to “selfishly” die for Mizi and feel good being the “heroine” rather than having to deal with the trauma of being the one left behind. 

(I'm too lazy to edit the whole translation as of now, but might do so when I have more time.)

Ivan tells her how he’s “relieved that he’s not the only who’s that twisted” = He’s comparing himself to Sua. He thinks they’re both ‘twisted’ for planning to do the same thing, but from Ivan’s perspective, he at least isn’t fooling himself into thinking his motives are altruistic. He tasted the feeling of being ‘abandoned’, and he knows he doesn’t want to experience it twice. 

He also probably thought that his death wouldn’t be as impactful on Till as Sua’s death on Mizi, and therefore his own selfishness is more justified in his mind. This most likely plays a role in how cold and biting his words are towards Sua –he’s jealous of that difference between them.

I hadn’t noticed this detail the first time I watched the video: Not only did Till look absolutely miserable and defeated from the get go, but he completely gave up and stopped singing at some point. If you look at the video, we can hear the audio that was supposed to be sung, but Till is quiet and still, and THIS is the moment Ivan chooses to act.

Although they do not show the votes at that particular moment, stopping mid song would have definitely taken a hit to Till’s score as it’s basically forfeiting –a huge contrast to his previous match where he didn’t even let his opponent utter a single line.

In response, Ivan doesn’t just walk towards him but throws his microphone to the ground, explicitly forfeiting as well in order to then pull a drastic move like it was foreshadowed in his interview.

The kiss itself imo was the less calculated/arguably unplanned part. He could have just choked Till from the start and it would have gotten him the same if not better results (since it was the act of violence against another contestant that ultimately lowered his score and got the counter to stop). 

That kiss was authentic and for himself entirely, both as a last desperate attempt at conveying his feelings and a selfish way of leaving a strong impression on Till that he wouldn’t be able to forget (a hypocritical move going back to how he criticized Sua). In that sense, I don’t think Ivan was seriously trying to take Till down with him –although that’s up to interpretation. As I see it, that would contradict his actions up until that point.

Till was VERY CLEARLY suic*dal (once again, he gave up singing), and after the initial shock of Ivan squeezing his neck, this fiery, rebellious man who is KNOWN to fight tooth and nail, simply closed his eyes and relaxed his body, waiting for Ivan to end him without fighting at all. 

The thing is, no matter how suic*dal one may be, the fighting response when being actually suffocated is automatic and completely involuntary. People mention there not being marks on Till’s neck but I think the most telling sign is him not going red, not squirming, not struggling or holding onto Ivan’s wrists (again, expected involuntary responses), his eyes not watering or having blurry vision while we see Ivan from his POV, not opening his mouth even a little to gasp for air and not coughing or gasping either when he was finally released.

Ivan definitely had him in a strong grip, might have even made him a bit lightheaded, but the reason why Till could look so relaxed in the first place is because he had given up and was waiting for Ivan to go ahead. If his closed eyes and limp posture were due to the choking itself, he would have fallen or stumbled when being let go, but we see that his eyes open as soon as he feels Ivan’s hands slipping away and he looks shocked instead.

So then what was Ivan’s motivation, if not to kill him? Yes, there’s the already discussed plan to get himself disqualified. But Ivan glances at the screen only a few seconds after he starts the choking, confirming that the voting had in fact stopped with Till having the higher score. He then goes for one last ‘goodbye’ kiss before continuing to choke him, holding his grip even as he starts getting shot.

We see a closeup of him, his eyes and hands trembling, looking more frustrated/emotional than in Till’s first POV where he looks rather stoic. It makes me think that the reason he refused to let go was simply because he wanted Till to look at him. 

They strongly imply throughout the whole video that being annoying or mean or violent was the only way Ivan learnt how to make Till focus his full attention on him, but now even as he’s threatening his life, even as he himself is dying, even after that kiss, Till wouldn’t look. 

It took him getting fatally wounded and realizing there was no turning back to reach a state of acceptance. His bittersweet expression here reminds me A LOT of his smile after Till runs back during the meteor scene, although this one seems a lot more tender. He seems to accept the fact that Till will never love him back, but Ivan cannot stop loving him anyways and he at least got to put his feelings out there. 

(The parallels here are driving me insane. The way there is light in his eyes in both instances as he looks at Till even while 'losing him' in a way. The struggle between wanting to posses him yet realizing his free spirit/strong will is part of what he loves about him. That last genuine gaze from a character who spent his whole life putting on a mask. Yes I am very normal about this.)

Until then, Ivan’s more tender/vulnerable side is only shown while Till is unconscious or looking away.

(That soft, loving nuzzle to Till's face has me in SHAMBLES.)

But ironically, it’s only when he releases him and shows him this vulnerability without a mask that Till really looks at him for the first time. I’d go as far as to say that it was this moment, and not the kiss, that finally made Till understand Ivan’s feelings. And in turn Ivan gets that little shot of euphoria as he falls to the ground.

Going back to the survivor’s guilt… I can only imagine it’ll go completely downhill for Till from now on. Not only does he already think Mizi might be dead and is angry at himself that he couldn’t save her (as seen in the shot where he punches his own picture), but now he has most likely realized that Ivan intentionally fumbled their match for his sake –which would lead to the realization that he was the reason why Ivan chose to run back to Anakt Garden after him in the first place, and that choice ultimately lead to his death. 

Even though we see them fighting a lot as children through the videos and comics, it’s also implied that they were always together and they shared some quiet moments –the “Mizi didn’t play with you, I played with you” art, all that art of the main 4 playing together, those bright smiles as they ran away together during the meteor shower scene and Till looking so guilty when he let go of his hand. 

There are a few cute doodles of them for those who are on Patreon, and some more lore in the Anakt Garden kit –so they were at the very least friends in their own way (as best as 2 very traumatized and abused children could), constantly fighting and making up. Which God… it shows that despite appearances Till must have actually had the patience of a saint when they were little lmao.

But what I’m trying to say is that despite what Ivan may have thought, his death will most definitely have an impact on Till and the narrative going forward, and I’m excited to find out how that reflects in the final round (if the resistance doesn’t manage to get back up in time to disrupt it). 

Despite how much I adored (and SUFFERED WITH) this round, I still have MANY questions that were left unanswered, both about Ivan and Till, and the lore in general, and I wonder if there’ll be time to answer them all, as I can imagine the next MV will be focused on Luka’s perspective, the only one we haven’t been presented with.

One of the most pressing questions being: What’s the relationship between Ivan and that alien dog? Did he tame it? It is implied that it was Ivan who somehow led Till and Mizi to it in the first place in that one scene, and if so I wonder what his motivation was? Normally jealousy would be the first thing to come to mind but Ivan wasn’t interested in Till until AFTER he saw him stand up to the beast to protect Mizi, so it couldn’t have been that. 

This is something that was also teased on Patreon and I was looking forward to the explanation on the MV, but it never came, and now Ivan is dead, so the next video will most likely not be too concerned with his backstory any longer. (Which, also, I was really curious about his life in the slums before being captured, auctioned and brought to Anakt, as that would have played a huge role in his twisted personality/dark tendencies –once again teased on Patreon very briefly, but not explained beyond that frame of him looking famished.)

The second is, how is Ivan able to open Till’s collar/muzzle so easily? This is a question I’ve been having since R3, but chalked it up to Ivan being sneaky and figuring out some kind of code to the cell door and that somehow automatically deactivating the locks on the restraints… or something. But with how many times he does it in R6 with just a touch it’s very clear that that isn’t the case and also imo they’re trying to point this out as a significant detail. 

It may turn out that I’m just looking too much into it, but I find it really curious and interesting. Not only is he the only child without a collar (Mizi and Sua still had them despite being just as well behaved as him), but he seems to be the only one able to take them off –or at least Till’s. I’m pretty sure the children wouldn’t normally be able to remove them by themselves as it seems to be a control mechanism. So how can Ivan? This might explain a lot about how they were able to escape, and also add a layer of tragedy knowing that Ivan could have chosen to escape by himself at any point, but refused to leave Till behind.

Last but not least there’s all the human experimentation Till was subjected to, which was the main topic of the teaser and we see the same images show up in the very beginning of the MV. They help emphasize Till’s suffering and distressed state of mind, but then they’re never expanded on or mentioned at all for the rest of the video. That’s a huge piece of lore that I also hope isn’t forgotten.

I mean, I really doubt it will. So far VIVINOS & co. have been incredible with their ability to hold back information and release it at the moment where it’s the most impactful, which is refreshing to see. So I trust we’ll get some answers eventually. 

Really curious to know why they would experiment on an ALNST contestant in the first place, especially one that is undoubtedly talented and described as a musical genius (aka. has good odds of doing well on stage and earning the segyein revenue). A very plausible theory might just be that he was just getting constantly drugged to make him less of a threat/more submissive –like we see on the karaoke room scene. But it might as well be something bigger.

As for my expectations for the next round… I’m still just trying to process this one, as you can see by the sheer amount of text. There are many things left to address, and the Hyuna/Luka confrontation has been strongly teased. I wonder also, if the round goes on without interruption, what would Luka’s strategy against Till be? Would he go for provocation again, trying to imitate Mizi/hint to his recent trauma with Ivan? It probably won’t be that simple.

I mean, VIVINOS has been known for subverting our expectations with each round:

The ominous/callous framing that was given to Ivan by the end of Black Sorrow and the art that followed, making us suspicious of his intentions, only to have him die for love. The lifeless/doll-like framing given to Luka, vulnerable and cornered by flashing lights, only to have him be the cruelest/most calculating one (that we know so far). The rebellious, rowdy, willing to do anything to survive framing given to Till, only to have his fighting spirit completely break and willingly waiting to die by Ivan’s hands. The naive, complacent and passive image given to Mizi, only to have her snap, beat the shit out of Luka and join the rebellion –and with how things are going (and her being the protagonist) I wouldn’t be surprised if she, and not Hyuna (the one who was framed as the most strong and reliable, giving us a false sense of security going into R6), is who will have to try and rescue Till (and Luka???).

There are still a ton of things that keep me awake at night about R6 –my favorite character dying aside. I could talk about it forever, but I’ll leave it here. 

Feel free to share your theories, delusions, interpretations or any detail I might have missed with me. God knows we need group therapy after this as the cute chibi keychains can only heal us so far. Thanks for reading my rambles if you made it this far. :’)

#alien stage #alnst #에이스테 #ivantill #vivinos #ivan alnst #till alnst #im GOING INSANE idk if you can tell... hahah #the only reason i didn't flood this with more videos and pictures is cause tumblr gave me a limit of 30 :')

[paladinncleric]

Kitchen Capers.

Pairing(s): Jenna Ortega x fem!reader

Summary: Jenna and R's attempt at 'cooking'

Warning(s): fluff

Words: 1k+

A/N: Not a big fan of this, but kinda enjoyed writing it. Hope you like it!

Request

"Babe." Jenna poked my cheek as I concentrated on beating my highest score on Flappy Bird.

"What?" I said giving her a quarter of my attention.

"Babe." She poked my cheek again.

"Whaaat?"

"Babeeeee" She said as she repeatedly poked my cheek.

I groaned as I stared at the 'Game Over' on my screen just a few points away from my top score. I looked at her sitting beside me on the couch giving me her best innocent smile as I glared at her.

"Now what exactly do you need me for, Your Highness?"

She climbed up on my lap, straddling me, as she squished my cheeks together causing me to look like a duck, she repeatedly pecked my squished-up lips as I sat there with my arms crossed, which I eventually melted into cause who could resist her kisses? Certainly not me.

"Stop being cute and tell me what you want." I said as I caressed both her thighs exposed from her shorts while she caressed my neck, still in my lap.

"I was thinking we could make pasta to take to my mom's tonight."

"Okay...that sounds easy enough?"

"It's not."

"It's not?"

"I was thinking of making it from scratch..." Said Jenna trailing off absentmindedly playing with my shirt.

"Oh like not the store-bought kind?" I asked and she nodded.

"Well...can you?"

See, after recently moving in together we realized neither of us are all that big into cooking, with me lacking the skill and Jenna's career keeping her away most of the time. So, I've taken up some cooking classes to at least be able to feed both of us. But it's only been like a week so my skills are nowhere near good enough, I don't wanna accidentally poison someone. That's why we've been striving off of takeouts and dinners in her parent's place every once in a while.

Which is also why we've been invited to her family's house tonight for dinner, and Jenna being Jenna was determined to show them that she's capable of living alone without their help.

"Of course I can, I've watched my mom make it a hundred times." She said as she looked at me with furrowed eyebrows.

I chuckled and said to her, "Babe I'm sure you're aware that there's a difference between watching someone make it and making it yourself."

She stared at me annoyed, "Obviously, but how hard can it be right? I'm pretty sure I know all the stuff that goes in there."

"Are you actually sure? Cause we can call your mom an-"

"No! I want to do it all by myself and without her help for once."

I sighed at her stubbornness and said with my eyes narrowed "If I die tonight because of your food, I'm haunting you for the rest of your life."

"Wouldn't want it any other way, baby." She said with a chuckle and a quick kiss to my cheek and got up from my lap already on her way to the kitchen.

I sighed as I fall back on the couch and I pulled out my phone again to try and beat my score for the 5th time, but as soon as I got comfortable Jenna's voice boomed through the house.

"GET YOUR ASS IN THE KITCHEN Y/L/N, I WON'T SAY IT TWICE."

I groaned as I got up and made my way to the kitchen with slumped shoulders and mumbled a quiet "Yes mom."

Jenna immediately turned towards me again and asked with a glare "What was that?" Making it clear she heard me.

"Nothing." I said avoiding eye contact with her.

"That's what I thought. Now, get to work." She said then went back to taking out all the ingredients, which I followed to do after dramatically groaning.

**********

"Uh babe are you sure we added the right things?" I said as I looked at her trying to massage the watery dough.

"I mean, yeah, I'm pretty sure." She said with furrowed eyebrows and flour covering almost every inch of her face. I chuckled as I took a towel and turned her face towards me as I gently cleaned her face. After I was done, I gave her a kiss on her nose as she smiled at me softly and I smiled back.

"Thanks." She whispered.

I caressed her cheek with my hands as I replied, "You're welcome, gorgeous." She kissed my chin then went back to her work.

I watched her struggle for 10 more minutes as I say, " Uh we can check google if you want?"

"No! Nope! I said I'm not taking any help tonight. I'll figure it out myself." Jenna's stubborn ass said.

I sighed as I leaned back against the counter knowing it's gonna take a while. I would try and help her normally, but in these situations I'm even worse than her.

I watched her for a while, now with an hour and a half till we need to leave. When finally, she groaned and pushed away from the dough. She turned around almost into tears. I open my arms for her as she stumbles into it, her holding the back my shirt as I rub her back while trying not to instinctually move away from the wet dough smearing on my shirt from her hands.

"I really thought *sniffle* I could do this."

"Hey it's ok babe, don't be sad. I can totally become the perfect housewife/trophy wife for you after I'm done with my course. I mean, c'mon, at that point I'll almost be a professional chef."

"Shut up." She said with a giggle as she backed away from the hug and wiped under her eyes with her dough hands as she froze.

I saw her analyzing everything with wide eyes, to my dough-covered shirt, to her dough covered clothes from vigorous stirring of the dough, to her face now filled with dough to her hair and the kitchen floor covered in flour. Then finally, her eyes landed on the clock above my head which read exactly an hour left to leave.

"Shit!" She exclaimed as she ran for the bathroom.

"Hey! I need to shower too!" I yelled after her.

"Join me!"

I smirked at that and was about to respond, when she said, "Without your unholy thoughts!"

I laughed to myself, as I quickly cleaned the floor and threw the dough away while trying not to touch it. After about 10 minutes I was done, as I stripped my clothes along the way to the bathroom and threw it on the floor of the laundry room.

I finally got in the shower, as I saw Jenna washing her hair butt naked. I smirked and went to slide my hands around her waist, when she abruptly turned around and said with narrowed eyes.

"Don't even think about it."

I threw my hands up in surrender as I exaggeratedly looked her up and down with a teasing smile on my face. She groaned and went back to showering as I joined her under the water.

**********

After showering, I wear some slightly baggy jeans with a button-up and my converse, while Jenna wears something similar too.

We both nod at each other with an approving smile, as we run towards the door with us already being 15 minutes late.

We enter their house with Nat standing and pointing at her watch at the entrance. We both sheepishly smile as I give her a quick hug and Jenna gives her a kiss on the cheek as we both move on to greet the rest of the family.

"So, how's everything going back home? Settling well?" Jenna's dad, Ed asked us after we all finally settled on the table for dinner.

"I'm sure they are, was probably too busy 'unpacking' to get here on time." Aliyah said while quoting 'unpacking' with her fingers.

I coughed as I picked up my glass to drink my water so I didn't have to reply, while Jenna subtly kicked her under the table. I saw Aliyah wince as I struggled to hold my chuckle in.

"Everything's going great Dad." Jenna clarified.

"Except." I said as Jenna's head snapped towards me as she threatened me with her eyes.

"Don't you dare."

"Her attempt at spaghetti ended up failing so bad, it was hard to distinguish the edible part."

Aliyah and her parents burst out laughing, Jenna glared at me and smacked my shoulder with her hand as I stuck my tongue out at her.

"You could have asked for my help mija.”

I saw Jenna’s shoulder slump and she pouted at the table.

“I know but I wanted to prove a point.” She grumbled as she shoved bread in her mouth.

“Yea you proved it very well.” Aliyah said sarcastically.

“I’m still proud of you for trying at least, God help me I don’t wanna step foot in a kitchen anytime soon.” I said exasperatedly.

“You ever plan on cooking?” Asked Aliyah.

“Of course but only when I have the assurance I can cook something decent and won’t burn the house down.”

“Take all the time you need, Y/N. At least in this way I get to see my daughter more often.” Said Ed taunting Jenna.

“Daaaaaad.” Whined Jenna

“What?” Said Ed laughing at his daughter as she sat pouting again.

“Okay that’s enough, let the poor girl eat.” Said Natalie as she shook her head smiling.

**********

I unlocked the door as Jenna stomped in and went straight to our room as I sighed at her child-like antics. How can a person be so poise and yet childish? Fuck if I know. I locked the door behind me as I approached our bedroom slowly dreading what I’d have to face. I get in the room to see her getting ready to wipe her makeup already in her sleeping clothes. I stood there staring at her through the reflection of the mirror. Her eyes caught mine as she raised her eyebrows at me as I squinted my eyes at her.

“Do you have something to say?” She asked.

“Uh no…do you?” I replied as I stared at her confused.

“No…?”

“Oh okay great!” I brightened up significantly as I thought she had forgiven me.

I happily walked to the bathroom. Did all the necessary things, emptied my stomach, changed clothes, brushed. I happily trudged back into my room to see Jenna taking up the whole bed and my pillow nowhere to be seen.

Uh oh.

“So uh dumb question but where’s my pillow?”

“Oh they’re on the couch.”

Well, shit.

“My I ask why…?”

She just stared at me blankly as she faced away from me. I sighed and groaned as I flopped on the bed, half on her and half on the bed.

“I’m sorryyyy, we just always joke about your culinary skills and I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

“I told you I was trying to prove my independency to them, but you saying that proved the opposite.”

“Jen I’m pretty sure they know you’re independent, you literally travel country from country shooting films, most of the time alone.” I said as I looked at her quizzically.

“Well…yea but they were still reluctant with me moving in with you.” She countered back.

I laughed as I pull my head up to look at her and say “That’s because you’re their little girl and of course they’re gonna be sad and kinda worried about you moving out of their home for the first time.”

Jenna groaned as she put a pillow on top of her face and said “I knowww it’s just them being so, I don’t know, over-protective this way makes me feel like they don’t trust me with taking care of myself.”

“At the end of the day, they still let you right? focus on that. I think they let you ‘cause they know I’ll be here.” I said with a smug smile as Jenna rolled her eyes at the bullshit I just spewed.

“Also I think you’re parents think we’re like, some sort of, sex crazed people...oh my god is this why they were reluctant?” I said as I made a ‘mind blown’ face.

“No, of course not why would they think that?” Jenna said as she looked at me confused.

“Well with the way your mom makes sure we have weekly check-ups and your dad’s The, by the way very terrifying, ‘Talk’ he gave me I’m pretty sure they do.”

“Oh my god, shut up you’re being ridiculous.” Jenna said laughing as I smiled finally hearing it.

We laid there for a while, me half on her and half on the bed as she stroked my hair. After a while, she stops and says.

“I’m still mad at you though.”

“Oh please, woman you’re not fooling anyone.” I say as I get up to get my pillow back.

“Ugh you’re lucky you’re cute." She said and I responded with a 'duh' face.

"The lower half of my body is numb because of you asshole.” Jenna said as she wiggles her toes in my face as I stand in the doorway of our bedroom and smack her feet away.

“This is what it feels like being the bigger spoon most of the time, except it's the upper half, so now YOU deal with it.” I say as I quickly stick my tongue out and move out of the way as a pillow comes straight to the door. I stuck my head in again as I look at the pillow and her on the bed with deadpan eyes and say.

“Hahaha you miss-“ a pillow smacks against my face.

“Now go get your pillow and hurry up I’m tired.” Jenna said as she situated herself on the bed again.

“Yes ma’am.”

**********

“Does it actually feel bad to be the bigger spoon?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“But you just said.”

“I like it as long as you’re my little spoon.”

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega fanfic #wlw post #fluff #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you

[etherealstar-writes]

I WANNA BE YOURS | LIONESSES X READER | PT 3

pairings: lionesses x reader

summary: in which you're accidentally added to a random group chat, not knowing they're all actually famous footballers, and obliviously end up having many of them competing for your love and attention.

part: three

part one here

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

THE NATIONAL DIVING TEAM

brightness

we have training tomorrow

just a reminder

the REAL karate kid

ughh

kie

what's the bet leah and georgia

are gonna be a show off

while niamh's gonna be off in her own world

neev

hey! no need to call me out like that

i do focus

stairway

i am not a show off

willybum

me neither!

door knob

you guys need proof?

the imposter

damn

you guys got that athletic build 💪

the REAL karate kid

......

willybum

.......

stairway

.......

elton

.......

earpsy

.......

brightness

.......

neev

.......

lotte

.......

maya

.......

daily

.......

the imposter

YO

HOW MANY OF YOU ARE ON THIS CHAT??

elton

i think the rest are asleep

the imposter

are you guys all part of some cult omg

and why do you guys have like

group training together?

that's kinda sus

the REAL karate kid

honestly it's kinda fun and chaotic

lotte

are we all gonna ignore the fact that

nobbs has photos of georgia's and leah's muscles?

door knob

are we just gonna keep referring

the imposter as imposter?

or if anyone's gonna ask her name?

the imposter

your name's nobbs??

LMAO THE DOOR KNOB MAKES SO

MUCH MORE SENSE NOW 😭💀

also

my name's y/n

neev

that is such a pretty name

the imposter

thank you!

elton

you know

you never really answered

lotte's question nobbs ....

willybum

it's because i'm her favourite duh

stairway

um it's actually me

hence why she sent a photo of mine first

meado

and here we go again

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

elton

oi

hello

@everyone

why is everyone so dead right now

earpsy

maybe it's the fact that we just finished training

the REAL karate kid

and because we actually have lives

elton

that's a lie and we all know it

the imposter

how was training?

neev

tiring

feeling quite dead rn

willybum

funny actually

lessi slipped and slammed

face first into the training mat

elton

that was the highlight of my day

the REAL karate kid

glad to know my misery

causes you guys happiness

rusty metal

guys

i stumbled upon the best photo ever

my eyes have been blessed

stairway

omg

bronzy in her active era??

daily

ooh do show

lotte

it's intrigued my interest now too

rusty metal

neev

LMAO

willybum

WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GET THIS

the REAL karate kid

CRYING RN 😭💀

elton

STOP 😭

this is a masterpiece

i'm saving this

stairway

she's a barbie gurl 💅

earpsy

PLS 💀

willybum

i'm blocking yall

stairway

your eyes just can't handle this much art

the imposter

hello friends of y/n!

i was trying to take photos of y/n

and accidentally clicked into here

neev

hello friend of y/n

the imposter

WHAT IS THAT PHOTO OF LEAH WILLIAMSON 😭

is this some kind of football fan cult??

some of your usernames are familiar in a strange way

idk why i can't seem to place it

elton

hmm quite strange

don't you all agree?

stairway

hmm very strange indeed

brightness

yes

daily

indeed

willybum

very

the REAL karate kid

where's y/n?

the imposter

standing in front of me

has no clue i'm on this chat

i'll send a photo

hang on

(lets just pretend they can see your face in the photo)

now she wants her phone back

goodbye strange strangers

elton

......

stairway

......

willybum

......

the REAL karate kid

......

neev

......

rusty metal

......

brightness

......

daily

......

doorknobs

......

meado

......

kie

......

earpsy

......

maya

......

lotte

......

lauren 1

......

stairway

the whole chat rn:

elton

i was not expecting this today-

the REAL karate kid

toone, this is literally the best

most dumbest thing you've done-

neev

honestly

lotte

my eyes have been blessed twice today

willybum

wow

the REAL karate kid

you can get my number wrong

anytime toone

part four here

#lionesses x reader #woso x reader #engwnt x reader #engwnt #woso imagine #leah williamson x reader #alessia russo x reader #ella toone x reader #georgia stanway x reader #niamh charles x reader #woso #woso fanfics

[katiexpunk]

Diner Girl | Pairing Joel Miller X Fem!Reader

Summary:  You frequent your local dinner pretty often, not just because you love their pancakes with extra syrup, but because your best friend Sydney is a waitress there. You've heard her talk about her hot boss, Joel, every now and then but you've never had the pleasure of meeting him; that was until one morning, after getting unexpectedly laid off, you decided to drown your feels in syrup and love from your bestie. Joel offers you a job, and he shows you the ropes in more ways than one. Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word count: ~7.3K Warnings: Pining, flirting, hard core tension, age gap (unspecified, reader is 30), 2000s style (needs a TW lol), 2000s texting, Joel is a little rough/bossy, Joel is actually readers boss, unprotected p in v (wrap it up, folks, or don't idk you're not gonna listen to me anyways), no creampie (a katiexpunk first, weird, I know), rough blow job, oral (m and female receiving) pet names, cum swallowing, praise kink, inappropriate use of syrup, one tit slap, Joel rips readers uniform off of her, readers former boss is an asshole, reader gets fired from her job, eating/references to food, did I already say flirting. Joel and reader fuck on a table in the diner. References to a health scares (for readers coworker). A bit of a dom/sub dynamic. Fluff. Porn with plot. Joel calls reader slut twice. Hilary Duff/A Cinderella Story gets mentioned, as does Jennifer Coolidge yelling for more salmon. Authors Note: The fact that I'm posting this doesn't feel real. This idea has been in my brain for so long, and I am happy and relieved to have it out in the world. Special thank you to @endlessthxxghts for holding my balls, brainstorming with me, and beta'ing this. And another thank you to @sydneyinacoma, my inspiration for readers bestie -- thank you for being my slutty, smutty, sister and for saving my ass with the first blowjob scene; I owe you one. ILY both. And to @hier--soir, Jessie, your beautiful way of storytelling inspires me and I often find myself HWJWTS (How Would Jessie Write This Smut). Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

November 2004 

The blaring sound of your alarm disrupts your slumber, and you jolt awake with a sense of urgency. Shit. You’re gonna be late. Again. 

You stumble through your routine. You splash cold water on your face in an attempt to remove the pillow marks left behind on your cheek and smear on a mixture of lotion and face oil the saleswoman swears will make you look like you’re in your 20s again. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that that was only a year ago. You can see why she would have thought you were older as you look at your reflection in the mirror and the dim light from your tiny 1950s bathroom illuminates the bags under your eyes. 

God, you’re tired. Truthfully, you’ve been tired for months now; no amount of caffeine can seem to make up for your lack of sleep due to the demands of finishing up your Master’s and your boss who keeps you late at work what seems like every night now. 

You hastily get dressed and attempt to gather your thoughts. As you step outside into the cool November morning air, you bristle at the wind cooling the still-damp hairs that frame your face. You unlock the door to your beater and slip the keys into the engine. A sinking feeling settles in the pit of your stomach when a soft click, click, click, click noise reverberates through the air; the stubborn engine refusing to turn over. 

Shit. Not again. No!

Frustration mounts with each futile attempt to bring the engine to life. You slam your palms against the cool leather of your steering wheel, a long sigh escapes your lungs and your forehead meets the top of the wheel in defeat. 

You reach into your purse for your phone and quickly compose a message to your boss, explaining the situation. "Car won't start. Trying to figure it out. Going to be late. Sorry." With a sigh, you hit send, hoping for a sympathetic response.

The minutes crawl by as you anxiously await a reply. The familiar chime of your phone signals a message, and you eagerly check it. However, the words that flash across the screen only deepen your frustration: "This is unacceptable. You’ve already been warned twice. Don’t bother coming in, and consider this your termination."

The shock of the message hits you like a ton of bricks. 

Sure, you had been late a few times in the past year, but you figured your staying late almost every night would make up for it. Maybe if he paid a little more you could afford to fix your piece of shit car and you wouldn’t be late in the first place. 

Your eyes sting with disbelief, and your hands tremble as you clutch the phone. Anger and desperation dance the waltz in your mind as you fight to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

You sit in your silent car, the quiet sounds of morning make you feel frozen in time, unsure of what to do or where to go from here.

You look back down at your phone again and type out a quick message to your best friend Sydney.

“U working this am?” before you can even put the phone down, it’s chirping to life with her response. 

“Hi babes! I am. R u?” her response reads. 

You don’t want to give her the full details over text – too much to type out – and instead, you settle on a short response. 

“No. Long story. Coming in 2 c u.”  

“Kk! C u soon <3” 

Your day was quite possibly off to the shittiest start ever, but you know there are three remedies to that situation. 

Your bestie, pancakes, and syrup. 

Lots and lots of fucking syrup. 

++++

The early morning sunlight spills through the diner's large windows, casting a warm glow on the worn checkered tiles. The aroma of sizzling bacon and freshly brewed coffee envelops the air, creating a comforting ambiance that feels like a hug. The clinking of cutlery against plates and the low hum of conversations provide a soothing soundtrack to the chaos of your morning. 

Your usual booth is taken, so you settle for a seat at the bar. The stool is a little wobbly, but you have a nice view of the bustling kitchen and the seats next to you are empty. 

You watch Sydney pour a coffee refill for the older couple at the end of the bar before heading over to you. As she approaches, her infectious smile illuminates the space. Her apron, adorned with a patchwork of food stains and coffee spills, hints at the countless meals she’s already served this morning. 

"Morning, sunshine! You’re here early, you miss me?” she greets, grabbing a mug from the counter behind her before placing it in front of you and pouring you a steaming cup of coffee. 

You let out a little chuckle at her remark, knowing you just saw her last night.

You grab the mug in front of you with both hands, wishing you could shrink yourself and jump into the hot liquid like a hot tub; your bones cold from your long walk to the diner. Stupid car.

"No really, what’s up? Everything okay?” she asks, a hint of concern behind her words. 

“Not really. My car wouldn’t start this morning again, and John fired me after I told him I was gonna be late,” you respond, feeling the warmth of your frustration beginning to build in your chest once more. 

“What an asshole,” Sydney responds, “I’m sorry that happened, babe. He’s a real piece of work, you’re better off without him,” she continues. 

“I guess so. But I need a job, Syd. I don’t know what I’m gonna do now,” you respond, defeated. Your cheeks begin to heat and you think you might actually cry this time. You move the menu out in front of you on the counter to the side, and Sydney picks it up and removes the pen from behind her ear. 

“I could talk to Joel,” she offers, scribbling your order down on her notepad. You don’t have to tell her, she already knows what this situation calls for – pancakes with a lot of fucking syrup. 

“Joel?” you ask, leaning over the counter and looking both ways before you whisper to her, “as in the hot boss you won’t shut up about, Joel?” 

She lets out a little chuckle and you see a little twinkle of bashfulness in her eyes. 

“Yes, my ridiculously hot, mostly unreadable, but hot, boss Joel,” she replies. “Martha quit last week, something about wanting to spend more time with her grandkids, so we’re down a waitress.” 

You look at her face, pondering her offer as if you really have another option at the moment. 

“He’s here this morning, he’s in the back doing paperwork – I can go grab him and have him talk to you if ya want,” she says, nodding to the woman who just sat down at the bar, giving her a soft be right there hun. 

“Plus, it’ll be so fun to work together!” she says, her voice more energetic this time, preparing to go back into customer service mode. 

“I – yeah, alright, yes, I’ll talk to him,” you agree. 

She does a little jump and says “YAY!” and then gives you a big smile before pouncing off to greet her next customer. Where does she find the energy? 

As you wait for your emotional pancakes to arrive, you cradle your mug, the warmth seeping into your chilled skin, while you gaze through the window into the kitchen. Amidst the orchestrated dance of chefs and waitstaff, there stands a figure that looks like he doesn’t belong in the greasy kitchen of a diner – a towering presence, broad and resolute. His flannel shirt clings to the sculpted contours of his muscles and the determined furrow of his brow accentuates the intensity he’s directing to the clipboard in his hand. 

That’s him. That’s gotta be the ridiculously hot boss. That’s gotta be Joel, right? You feel a little tickle in your belly at the thought. 

You try not to stare too much, not wanting to be obvious, but like passing a car wreck on the freeway, you can’t seem to look away. You smile at the way he bites the cap of the pen in his mouth, only dropping it on occasion to make little notes or checkmarks. As you look at him doing his work, his eyes flutter up and meet yours. And in that brief moment, you feel a connection. The corners of his lips curl into a friendly smile as he stares back at you briefly, before once again dropping his gaze to the papers in front of him. Sydney did say he was unreadable; now you see why. 

Before you can process further, Sydney returns with your stack of pancakes and places them in front of you. “Thanks, can I have some syr–,” but before you can continue, she’s placing the container of the sweet liquid in front of you with a wink.

As you dive into your comfort food, savoring each bite, the door to the kitchen swings open, and Joel emerges. Tall and confident, he approaches your seat, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. Of course, he would come to talk to you now, right as you have a giant bite of pancake shoved into your mouth like an animal. The cherry on top of your already shit day.

"Sydney's been raving about you," he admits, a friendly smirk on his face. "Say’s you’re lookin’ for some work,” his voice is low and even, and his eyes briefly scan over the patrons before coming back to land on your face. For as hot as Sydney has been describing him as over the past few months, she forgot to mention how fucking sexy he sounds. 

You stare back at him, gulping down the remaining pancake in your mouth. 

Joel's eyes are trained on your face. What he really wanted to say was Sydney’s been raving about you, but she didn’t tell me how pretty you are. That was all the more apparent to him now that he sees you up close. 

“We’re down a waitress, and we could use someone with your taste in breakfast and impeccable timing, if you’re interested?” he says, watching you fidget with the napkin in your lap. 

“I – yes, yes I am very interested. I’ve never been a waitress, but I have great attention to detail and I’m sure I could pick it up quickly with the right guidance,” you say, straightening your posture, attempting to look more composed than he has you feeling right now. 

“Well great, we’ll have you trained up in no time,” he says, his gaze lingers on your features for a beat longer than expected before he swivels on his heels, heading back to the kitchen. However, after a few steps, he abruptly pauses, pivoting back around with a thoughtful expression, as if there’s more he wants to share.  

“Oops, my bad, sweetheart. Almost forgot my manners. I’m Joel, by the way. This is my diner,” he says, gesturing with one hand as if to show the space to you like you were seeing it for the first time, before offering his large hand toward you. You meet it with your own, giving him a firm shake while sharing your name. 

"Can you start tomorrow?" he asks, and you respond with a satisfied "mhmm," sealing the deal with a wink from Joel. "Great – be here around seven in the morning then, and we’ll get cha all trained up" he adds with a grin, one that teeters the line between professional and flirtatious. 

And just like that, in the midst of your syrup-drenched, emotionally charged morning you let out your first real smile of the day. 

So there were four remedies to your situation. 

Your bestie, pancakes, syrup, and Joel. 

You finish your remaining pancake, letting your mind wander off, secretly hoping Joel will be showing you the ropes in more ways than one.  

++++

The next morning, you get to the diner just as the sun is starting to rise, and you can't help but draw a parallel to Hilary Duff in A Cinderella Story, except now you’re the Diner Girl. 

While you may not be gliding around on gaudy rollerskates, and Jennifer Coolidge isn't screaming at you “MORE SALMON! We need more Salmon!” there's an undeniable charm to the whole scenario that makes you chuckle. The uniform Sydney handed you on your way out may not be the stuff of fairytale gowns, but the fabric that clings to your skin is a tangible reminder that you're stepping into a different narrative today, a narrative where you’re employed and your boss isn’t a total jerk. 

As you step into the diner, the familiar calms your nerves a bit. Joel, seemingly in tune with your arrival, glances up from behind the counter and shoots you a playful wink. Does he wink at all his employees? 

"Morning, sunshine! Ready for your grand debut?" he teases, flashing a bright smile coupled with an adorable set of dimples. You manage a shy smile in response, feeling nervous once again, but it has nothing to do with learning your new job and all to do with the beautiful man in front of you that you’ll be close to the entire day. 

Joel wastes no time guiding you through the diner's rhythm. With each task, he effortlessly blends instructions with charming banter, making the learning process feel less like work and more like a shared secret between the two of you.

"Here's where the magic happens," he says, gesturing to the row of gleaming coffee machines. "And trust me, making a perfect cup is an art; takes a lot of love."

“Aren’t these like super-fast automatic coffee brewers? You just load the beans and water and hit start?” 

"Alright, smartass," he retorts, a playful glint in his eyes, "Yeah, they are, but you gotta press that button with love, baby. That's what makes it good." 

Your laughter harmonizes with his, and you catch the infectious mirth in his expression – one hand on his hip, the other casually resting on the counter. Your eyes trace the veins on his forearms, distinctly visible beneath the rolled-up sleeves, and you can't help but admire the effortless confidence he exudes. 

“Do it with love. I understand,” you respond. 

“Good girl,” he responds. “Alright, next up – silverware rollin’, ya ready?” he asks.

"As ready as I'll ever be," you reply, a playful smile dancing on your lips, as you follow him to the back of the kitchen to grab a tray of freshly washed flatware. Returning to the dining room, he leads you to an empty booth tucked away from the prying eyes of coworkers, giving you the first taste of true solitude with him all morning.

"Now, watch and learn," he says, demonstrating a silverware roll that rivals any seasoned server. "The key is in the wrist action. It's all about finesse."

You mimic his movements, chuckling when your first attempt doesn't quite match his polished technique. He leans in a little closer, his warmth and encouragement almost palpable.

"See, you've got the basics down. But let me show you a little trick," he says, guiding your hand with his own. The close proximity sends a delicious shiver down your spine, and you can't help but revel in the extra attention to detail in his guidance. As he imparts his expertise, the thought of him taking charge and instructing you in other ways goes straight to your core. 

“You’re a natural,” Joel says, responding to your growing stack of rolled silverware. 

"You like taking orders?" he inquires, his gaze intense as he places the second-to-last rolled set in the pile you both created, and you complete your own. The implication behind his words hits you, and your eyes widen with surprise.

"Do I what?" you ask, a hint of uncertainty in your voice, unsure if your mind has ventured too far into the realm of innuendo to fully grasp his meaning.

"Taking orders – you seem like you'd be good at it," he says, pausing deliberately, well aware that he's causing a stir within you.

"You know, from customers?" he adds with a smirk, putting you out of your misery. 

“Oh. Oh – uh, well, I’m not sure, I’ve never tried it,” you respond. 

“First time for everything, darlin’. We can practice. I’ll be the customer, and you can take my order.” 

He flashes you a charming smile, making it hard to resist. "Alright," you agree with a shy grin, readying your notepad. You start “Good morning, Sir! Can I get you starte–” 

"Now, sweetheart, we've gotta do this right – stand up now, take my order properly," he interrupts, a playful tone in his voice. You shoot him a teasing side-eye, and he smirks, attempting to hide it by bringing his hand to his beard.

You rise and straighten your apron, and turn to face him at the table. 

“Good morning, Sir –” you begin again, “what can I get started for you?” 

"I'll have the classic bacon and eggs, toast on the side, and a steaming cup of your finest brew. Oh, and a side of your million-dollar smile, please."

You laugh at the last part, realizing this is exactly the kind of practice you need. "Got it, one bacon and eggs, toast, coffee, and a million-dollar smile," you repeat, jotting it down.

Joel nods approvingly. "You're a quick learner. Now, let's spice it up a bit. What if I want my eggs sunny-side-up, the toast lightly buttered, and the coffee extra strong?"

You take a moment to absorb the details, determined not to miss anything. "Sunny-side-up eggs, lightly buttered toast, and extra strong coffee," you recite confidently.

Joel grins. "Not bad, darlin’ – you’re a good listener.” 

“Maybe you’re just a good teacher,” you playfully retort. 

You don’t see it, but Joel palms himself beneath the denim of his jeans, attempting to adjust from the growing lack of space in them. 

As the morning rolls into the afternoon, you finish out the rest of your shift at the diner and make the walk back home.

As you lay in bed, you try to rationalize all of your flirting with Joel. 

He’s just nice. A Southern gentleman. He’s probably like this with all of his employees.

Unbeknownst to you, Joel lies in his own bed, also attempting to rationalize all of his flirting with you. He knows it’s wrong, but that doesn’t stop him from taking his heavy cock in hand to the thought of you that night. 

++++

After nearly a month of seamlessly navigating the diner routine, you've become a fixture in the cozy ambiance. The playful banter between you and Joel has escalated to shameless flirting – a subtle touch from a passed laminated menu, an intentionally clumsy moment with the cash register as an excuse to get a little closer, and the unmistakable sensation of his gaze lingering on you as you lean over to wipe down the booths. 

You even find yourself yelling out “Corner!” less than you should, hoping it might lead you to accidentally bump into him. 

It's not exactly backbreaking labor, though it can take a toll on you physically. But you find yourself enjoying it—the thrill of pushing through a lengthy shift, the rush that accompanies swift movements and juggling various tasks during the bustling hours, the familiar faces of regulars who now greet you by name, and the bonus of spending extra time with Sydney. 

For now, it's fulfilling enough. However, the more moments you share with Joel, the more it dawns on you that, at least when it comes to him, "enough" might never quite be sufficient.

++++

You normally work M-F, during the morning shift, and you’re grateful for the extra time on the weekends. You’re starting to feel like you might not actually need that facial oil now that you’re getting adequate rest. Take that, Mary Kay. 

One Saturday night, as you’re sitting on your couch watching Kill Bill, your phone buzzes with an unfamiliar number, and curiosity pulls you in. Joel’s husky voice on the line tells you who it is, but he introduces himself anyway.

“Hey, darlin’ – it’s Joel. Listen, uh, I know it’s your day off but I was wondering if you might be able to come in to work tonight?” he asks. 

Without pausing to let you respond, he lays it on thick, making a persuasive attempt to nudge you into saying yes, "The other servers are all tied up, and Suzanne had to call out, something about Mike not feeling right tonight, tight chest and all, so I told her to make sure he gets checked out."

"Oh no, that's awful. Yes, yes, of course, Joel. I'll be there in 15," you reply, hearing a sigh of relief on the other end.

"See you soon," he says.

"Oh? You're coming in, too?" you ask, trying not to sound overly excited.

"Well, someone's gotta make the food, right?" A little chuckle carries through the phone.

You remember it now; he had shared with you during that first day that working in the kitchen at night was one of the reasons he decided to take over owning the diner, his decision in part was fueled by his love of cooking. “Helps me remember why I started doing this in the first place," he had said. You were listening, but you were also distracted by him fidgeting with his coffee cup, watching him make small circles around the rim of it. 

++++

As the night descends, the diner transforms. The hustle of the day gives way to an intimate, dimly lit ambiance. Joel, donned in his chef's coat, greets you with a sly grin, "Well, look who's gracing the night shift. It's just you and me tonight, darlin'."

"Think we can handle it?" you respond, not really talking about the dinner rush, and he knows it. 

The air crackles with sexual tension as you and Joel maneuver through the shift. The need between you two is palpable; a desire only one thing could satiate, a hunger no amount of breakfast food could resolve.

The hours tick by, and the tile inside is illuminated by the soft glow of the neon sign outside. With the last order served, you both lean against the counter, a comfortable silence enveloping you. 

Joel breaks it with a casual remark, "Hungry?" 

"Starving,” you respond a playful edge to your voice, biting your lip. Joel’s eyes go dark as he stares at your plump flesh. 

You are hungry, but not for food.

++++

 Joel guides you to the prep station for a crash course on chicken and waffles. 

“Now, I know you’re a pancake kinda girl, but trust me darlin’ when I say these chicken and waffles will make you fall in love,” he says. Yeah, they just might. 

Joel, sleeves rolled up and a chef's jacket in hand, hands it over with a grin that hints at more than just a cooking lesson. The oversized jacket drapes over you as he gives a quick once-over. He chuckles, “you look cute like this, sweetheart,” he says before he heads to the fridge for supplies.

Returning with a bunch of ingredients, he starts showing you the ropes of making waffle batter. "You like to cook?” he asks, pouring flour into a bowl. His hands move with ease, adding baking powder, a pinch of salt, and a dash of sugar. You crack the eggs into the mix, and he throws in some vanilla extract, giving the batter a fragrant twist.

“I mean, I don’t not like to cook, but I can’t say I’m very good at it. I think I’m better with instruction,” you answer. You notice his gaze deepen, going darker almost, as he hands you a whisk. “Mix it up then. Give it your all,” he says, and you start blending. 

As you stir the batter, you sense Joel subtly adjusting his position until he's right behind you. He towers over you from behind. His arms gently encircle your body, and his backside hovers just an inch away from yours. He’s so close you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. "The secret," he murmurs in a low, almost whispered tone near your ear, "is to whisk it just enough, not too much. The air bubbles make it fluffy." His voice carries a blend of guidance and desire. 

His hand moves up to sweep your hair away from your neck, causing your mixing to slow as his fingertips graze the sensitive skin. Goosebumps erupt across your entire body, and he presses his lips to the soft skin behind your ear. 

“Joel,” you whimper, tilting your head to the side, giving him more access to your neck. 

“Keep mixin’ darlin,” he commands. You try, but the distraction of him on you makes you forget the simple action altogether. 

You close the gap between your bodies and take a small step back so your backside is firmly pressed against him. You let out a gasp as you feel the thick shape of him on your ass. He continues to nip at your neck, grazing his teeth along the sensitive skin there. You grab the counter in a poor attempt to steady yourself, and press into him harder, and he responds pinning your hips to the counter until his growing cock is all the more noticeable. 

“Fuck, darlin’,” he lets out a little hiss. “Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to get you alone like this – haven’t been able to get it out of my head.” A soft moan escapes you, and in the blink of an eye, his hands find your hips. Before you can react, he swiftly turns you around to face him.

“You like being told what to do, baby? I’ll tell you what to do, but I’m not gonna tell you twice,” Joel says as his large palm comes up to hold the column of your throat, his thumb just under your jaw, tilting you up to face him. 

“So if I tell you to get on your knees, you’re gonna do it,” he says, voice low. “If I tell you to look at me, you’re gonna do it,” he continues, “and if I tell you to swallow, you’re gonna do it like the perfect little slut I know you are,” he says, dipping his face lower to you. You wonder if he can feel your pulse quickening under his hand, caught in a lusty daze fueled by hot breath and the sight of his blown pupils. 

“Tell me you understand,” he commands, not really questioning. 

“Yes - yeah, I understand,” you say, tightening your grip on his forearm, feeling the strength of his muscles still grasping you, pulling you closer to him. 

You think for a moment he might kiss you, his lips barely an inch from yours, but he doesn’t. 

“Good girl,” he praises, “since I know you’re so good at practicing, let’s do it again,” he suggests, releasing his grip on you. 

“Get on your fucking knees, baby.” 

You fall to your knees and feel the hard, cold tile against your bare calves. You position yourself beneath him and fold your hands in your lap, waiting for him to give you further instructions. He reaches down and brings his pointer finger down to lift your chin up to face him. He runs his thumb over your lips. 

“So pretty like this, baby.” He thinks you're pretty. 

As he releases you, you take that as permission and reach out to undo the buckle of his belt. You fumble with the cool metal momentarily, until it’s completely unbuckled before you begin to work with the zipper on his pants. You tug both his pants and his underwear down just below his hips, and his thick length springs to attention. 

Your breath hitches in your throat at the size of him. He’s big. His cock is already at full attention, red and weeping. Your mouth waters at the sight of it.  You look up at him, silently asking for permission to touch him, and he nods. “All yours’” he says, and your hand comes to wrap around the base of him. The thought of all of him being yours stirs something low in your belly. 

Before you can put him in your mouth, he grabs your wrist to pull you back up to your feet. 

“Too many clothes, sweetheart. Need to see those fuckin’ tits,” he growls, tearing your uniform off, almost bare save for your bra. You’re gonna need a new one. His eyes are glued to your chest, admiring the red bra you’ve been hiding under your uniform.

“As much as I like the way this looks on, I’d like it a helluva lot better off,” he says while hastily unclasping your bra, letting it fall to the kitchen floor. Your nipples harden in the cool air, entrancing Joel. “Gorgeous fuckin’ tits,” swatting your left one, in awe of the way it bounced on impact. 

“Back on your knees,” ordering you once again. You obey without hesitation, almost automatically. 

You stroke along his length, feeling the silky warmth of his skin, the heat, and the thick veins that add texture to each pass of your palm. You pause at the top of him and let out a little squeeze, until a small bead of precum forms at the tip. You lap it up, and Joel lets out a groan and his hands fall to grab the back of your neck. 

“Keep that mouth wide open for me, baby.” I’ll do anything you want as long as you call me baby, you reply in your head. 

You part your lips and tease your tongue around and then start sucking on the tip, slowly taking more in until you’re sucking on the full head of his cock and your tongue is whirling around it. Joel’s grip on the back of your neck tightens, and he gently cants his hips forward, urging you to take more of him.

You’re barely halfway down and the back of his cock is already on your throat. You start bobbing your head up and down, and Joel mutters a little curse under his breath and bites down on his lip. 

“Such a good girl f’me, takin’ this cock down your sweet little throat,” you moan around him, the sound reverberating against him, “yeah, this what you wanted, hmm? Needed your throat fucked like a slut?” 

Your thighs clench together, a syrupy mess of your own slick smears on your skin, and his filthy words add to the roaring ache in your cunt. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Joel as you notice him stiffen just a little more. How is that even possible?

You pick up your pace, pushing yourself to take more of him. He thrusts shallow but firmly, meeting your movements along his shaft. 

“Tha’s it baby, just like that…” his groans are lecherous, coupled with the profane sounds of you gagging on his cock. You’d listen to that on a loop if you could. 

He tightens his grip on your hair and pulls you off him. There will be plenty of opportunities for him to fill your mouth up, but right now, he has other priorities. He does take an extra moment to watch you wipe the saliva and precum from your mouth with the back of your hand. It’s a vulgar sight and he commits it to memory. 

He helps you to your feet, and your knees on fire from the harshness of the floor. You’ll pay for it later, but for now, the soreness is a small price to pay for the exhilaration you’re experiencing with your super hot, hung boss. 

Without warning, he scoops you up in his brawny arms and carries you off to the closest booth adjacent to the kitchen. With your back flat on the table, you feel the cool laminate tabletop on your skin and it adds a stark contrast to the warmth of Joel’s chest pressed against yours moments ago. 

Your upper back is on the small table, leaving just enough room for your hips to slightly dangle off the edge, Joel’s hips between your legs. Your head ghosts the condiment bottles at the edge and he holds you in place there, teasing you. 

He pauses to admire the way you look up at him, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your perky tits slightly falling to the side, a little sheen of sweat on your chest. He pauses to admire the way you still look flustered, but composed, knowing he’s going to fuck every ounce of that right out of you. 

Joel wants to untangle you like a knotted ball of yarn, he wants to claim ownership of every inch of your body, and he doesn’t want to wait any longer. 

He drops to his own knees this time, hooking his thumbs into your underwear to pull them down with him.. His face immediately finds your cunt, and he wastes no time before he lays a trail of soft kisses over your wet and waiting folds. He starts slow, a kiss here, a lap there, and eventually begins to pick up his pace. 

He sinks a thick middle finger into you, and your hips cant up at the welcomed intrusion and your back arches, unable to stay on the table. You feel his hot breath on your cunt, and let out a small mmm at the way he presses his forearm across your lower half to lower you back down to the table, to keep you still. 

His mouth returns to your clit to work you, and he adds another finger, twisting and working them both into you with precision. You’re so fucking close – your slow crawl to the cliff of your orgasm turns into a full-on sprint.

You’re so close, and he can tell by the way your body tenses under him. 

“Please,” you moan. “Please – ugh, neeeeed to come, please let me come,” you beg. 

“Just a little longer, baby. You can come when I say you can.” Joel says, voice slightly muffed against your wet skin.

He presses his lips against your clit, but doesn’t give you enough tongue to get you where you need to go. You’re already so swollen, sensitive – you know all you’ll need is a little suck and you’ll be gone. 

You don’t know how much longer you can stave off your pleasure, but you want to be good for him, to listen, to obey. 

He knows you want to come, that’s obvious, and god does he want to know what you look like when you do, to feel it, to be the reason; but still, he continues to tease and let it build. Your face twists, your jaw goes slack, and your eyes close and it all but screams I’m close, make me come, make me come.

He sucks your clit into his mouth and he grazes it with the top of his tongue and closes around you. You flutter your eyes closed. You warn him that you’re close, “Joel, fuck, please let me come. Please, please, please,” you rasp out your pleas with a symphony of moans. 

Satisfied with your pleading, he decides to take mercy on you. He looks up at you through his thick lashes, drinking in the way he has you melting, the way he has you begging. 

“You can come, baby. Go ahead, want you to soak my face,” he says, voice hoarse but still smooth like velvet.

You obey and feel the taste of your sweet release rush through you like a warm summer breeze on a hot day. Your vision goes white, and your whole body tenses with pleasure as he works you through it. 

“Fuck, so pretty with you come f’me, baby. Being such a good girl, listening to my every command,” he says and lifts his head. His dilated pupils tell you he’s high on it; on you. 

Your slick shines on his beard, illuminated by the atmospheric glow of the streetlights peering into the dark diner. He looks at you, breath slightly ragged, and brings his fingers to his lips to smear the remaining slick from his face onto them, and he pops his finger in his mouth like he’s savoring the last bite of the best meal he’s ever had.

“Taste so fuckin’ delicious, baby. Must be from all that syrup you eat.” 

And shit, it’s filthy. He looks indecent in the most delectable of ways. 

“Gonna fuck you now,” he says, grabbing his thick cock in hand and lining the head of it up against your wet and waiting hole, pausing there before pressing in. You let out a little whine. 

‘Shh, baby,” he coos, “‘m gonna give you what you need, don’t worry,” he says. Both of his hands come to your hips, surely leaving little bruises under his strong grip. Your slick makes it easy for him to bury himself in you to the hilt, even with the size of him. Your greedy cunt taking every inch of him like it’s your fucking job, like it was made for him. 

He pauses for a moment to give you a second to adjust; you feel so full, you swear you feel him in your lungs. 

He begins a relentless pace, thrusting his cock deep inside of you, the obscene sounds of the clapping noises, a wet and wanton song made as a result of your wetness keys you up. 

“Fuck, yes, Joel – YES,” you cry. 

“Yeah? Say thank you to me, baby. Say thank you for giving you this cock, for fucking you dumb,” he commands. 

Thank you – thrust – tha - thrust – thank you, fuck, thrust. 

He fucks into you so hard that your head hits the condiments, knocking them over. The ketchup bottle falls, the sugar packets scatter, and the syrup tips over. A slight ooze of the viscous substance starts to pool on the table and get into your hair, but you don’t care, this feels too good to care. 

Just as you’re about to come, Joel notices the pool of auburn liquid running over the table and onto the red booth below. 

“Tsk, tsk, baby – makin’ a mess – creaming on my cock, and spilling syrup on the floor,” he says, continuing his pace. You feel your walls clench around him. Just as quickly as he entered, he retreats, and you whine at the loss. “Get up,” he says. 

You do as he says and rise onto your legs. They’re shakey like Jell-O. You watch as he reaches over the table and grabs the sticky glass bottle from the table. 

“On your knees again,” he asks of you for the third time tonight. You pause, your body sore and your knees aching. “You hear me, baby? I said get on your knees.” 

You do as he says, and kneel before him, once again worshiping at the altar of the man above you. 

You look up at him with bated breath and watch him use his free hand to rip off his shirt and throw it onto the booth beside him. 

“Come closer,” he says, “and open,” you kneel before him with your mouth open, your inviting tongue waiting to be used. He uses his hand to grab the base of his heavy cock, and he taps it on your widespread tongue a few times before holding the syrup bottle high in the air, centering it above his cock and your open mouth. 

You watch with wide eyes as he tips the bottle over just a smidge, and a long, thin, sticky stream of syrup begins to rain down onto his hardness, falling off the sides of it, down to the floor, and all over your chin. 

“Clean me up, baby,” he says, and your lips close around him. You begin to suck and lick every inch of him, savoring the golden liquid that creates a tantalizing mix of sweetness from the sugar and salt from his pre-cum. You hum as you work him, savoring every bit, and eventually, the skin on his cock is syrup free and you take him at a more consistent pace. You hear Joel groan, and it encourages you to take him deeper, harder, faster. 

You look up at him through wet lashes, tears forming in the corners of them, as he holds your now sticky hair into a makeshift ponytail and uses your mouth. 

“Such a good hole for me,” he says, “so fucking good, baby, you’re so perfect.” 

You let him chase his high, and open wider when you see his jaw tighten and his tight core tense, the grip on your hair pulling tighter. 

“You’re gonna swallow,” he says. “All of it,” he commands, and his jaw goes slack and he releases a rush of warm cum down your throat. It tastes musky, but a little drop of syrup you missed during your cleaning job makes it sweeter. 

“Fuck, darlin’,” he says, panting heavily, holding you on his cock as he throbs out the final pumps of his release. 

He lets go of your hair and you pop off of him and use your fingers to clean off the rest of the syrup from your chin and smile up at him. God, you must look like a wreck. 

He extends out his large palm in a gesture to help you off the floor. As you rise to stand, his fingers find the underside of your jaw and he tilts you up to look at him. 

He looks at you, the darkness behind his eyes has been replaced with someone else; pride. 

“You really are a good listener, baby.” He says.  He gazes down at you, his thumb delicately tracing the contour of your jaw. This moment feels significant.

Leaning in, he tenderly places his lips on yours. The sensation takes your breath away, and as he intensifies the kiss, you willingly welcome the exploration of his tongue, relishing the warmth and savoring his taste. Tonight, you've experienced every other aspect of him, but in this moment time seems to stretch as your lips remain locked.

As he breaks the kiss, a contented smile graces your face, and you feel as if you could float away.

“Now really, let’s eat some food,” he says, letting a low chuckle escape from his lips, “I still owe you some chicken and waffles.” 

“And you owe me a new uniform,” you say, grabbing his hand to follow him to the kitchen, totally naked. 

Joel actually teaches you how to make the meal this time. He offers you another chef's coat to cover your body, but he doesn’t let you keep it on for long. As your breakfast-dinner cooks, he hoists you up on the counter and eats you again. He makes you orgasm more times in one night than you think you ever have with any of your previous partners. 

You were right in your initial thinking. Enough will never be enough when it comes to Joel.

You’ll always want more.

More of this, and more of him. 

And the one thing that’s the most certain is that you’ll most definitely want more fucking syrup. 

Good thing you work at a diner.

END

Bonus Drabble Coming Soon: How will Sydney react when you tell her about your steamy night with Joel?

Tagging moots and those who showed interest in the preview: @nosesitter @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81 @lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @lovebandrry @dugiioh @frodo-jojo @ghostwritesthings @planet-marz1 @josephquinnswhore @cinnamon-gurlll @dragonfire @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring @darkheartgatita @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @dins-riduur-anthe

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fluff #joel miller #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #syrup #early 2000s #pedro pascal

[atinywhore]

stuffed

pairing: jongho x (fem) reader

word count: 2250

genre: spicy spice :)

warnings: soft dom jongho, biting, lots of praise, fingering, size kink, sorry not sorry, but yo can't convince me that jongho doesn't have a thick cock so, low-key breeding but he just likes to fuck her raw idk what kinda kink you call that (psa: use a fucking condom bitches), uber romantic to lol I feel like he's such a softy, gets off when you come, I think that's all.

an: this is the first fanfic I wrote since returning from my hiatus so it took me a little to get back into the writing and rediscover my own writing style! So I hope you enjoy and please interact and give this lots of love! Happy Turkey day whores ;)

taglist: @mingigoo @ravenjoongie @wickeddarkness-place @whatudowhennooneseesyou @teezers99 @mirror-juliet

The boys love to celebrate American holidays with you. Every year you have fireworks and hot dogs on July 4th, and you always host a thanksgiving day meal. This year is no different. It’s a three day prep event for you and you can’t forget the cooking still needed the day of! Just to say it, it's a stressful but very rewarding day to be able to have a nice meal with the people you love most in the world. They always try to schedule events and showcases around the actual day of thanksgiving so they can celebrate with you. Last year they couldn’t and it really made you upset. It was the first time in three years that you weren’t able to celebrate your favorite holiday with anyone. They saw how upset it made you and they were determined to make it up to you this year, especially your boyfriend Jongho. He took the days leading up to the holiday off of practice for their next comeback to help you prepare the food. 

It was the day of thanksgiving now and despite the help from Jongho, you still were behind. You appreciated his help so much and you knew why he was doing it, but you had to go back and fix the stuff that you assigned him. Most of the time he just sat on the other side of the island and just watched as you moved around the kitchen. 

“Baby can you help me with the turkey.” You asked without looking up from the stuffing you were preparing. 

“Mmm” he replied standing up. You looked up to give him a smile to show your appreciation, but when you looked up you paused all your movements. This happens often. Ever since you two started dating. Jongho’s presence is so big. His shoulders are twice the size as your own and his biceps are almost as big as your head. From the moment you saw him you were attracted instantly. He loves to remind you how big he is and how small you are, especially in the bedroom. Sex with Jongho is very romantic and tender, with a hint of kink. He loves being on top, entrapping you beneath his thick, muscular body. He’ll lean down and speak hot things into my ear to make my orgasm that more intense. You can feel your face warm and your pussy grows slick with excitement. You try to look away before Jongho can see, but I know he knows what I'm thinking about. We haven’t had sex in over a week because his schedule has been keeping him in the studio all day and late into the night, and there was  a huge project that you needed to get done before you could start the thanksgiving prep. 

“What do you need me to do baby?” Jongho says as he steps behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and places a quick kiss on my neck. You can't help but giggle and instinctively push your ass into his groin. He lets out a little moan into your neck. Before you can get swept up into what's about to happen you kinda push him off of and turn to face him.

“Can you please turkey from the other counter. It’s too heavy for me to lift baby.” He nods and you give him a quick kiss on the lips as a thanks. Turning back to the counter you remember the potatoes that have been on the mixer and rush over to turn the machine off. Lifting the top of the mixer up and removing the mixing attachment you lick some of the potatoes off to make sure the seasonings are right. The butter and salt coats your tongue and you can’t help but moan a little at the taste. You feel a familiar presence behind you once more. 

“Taste good?” Jongho whispers in your ear. His voice sends a shiver down your spine and jolts of electricity straight to your pussy. Your knees go wobbly but his grip on your waist keeps you grounded. 

“Jongho..” You attempt to protest, but it’s weak. 

“Yes, baby?” He says peppering kisses down your neck and onto your shoulder. His hands smooth up your torso and one stops at your breast to tease your nipple beneath the dress and apron you are wearing. His other hand moves up to your neck moving your head to rest on his shoulder so he can have better access to your weak spot. 

“I need to f-finish.” You manage to get out as he sucks on the sensitive part of your neck

“Oh yeah baby? Finish what?” 

“The m-meal. The turkey n-needs to be st-tuffed.” 

“I think you need to be stuffed, not the turkey baby.”

You can’t help but give in to him. Your body continues to sink into his embrace and before you know it you feel your ass rubbing against his thick cock straining beneath his jeans. He continues to suck and leave marks all along your neck and when you reach back and caress his cock, he growls and bites your neck at the contact. You can’t help but let out a gasp. 

“Fuck baby. I need you now.” He says, as he turns you around and throws you over his shoulder. He easily walks the two of you toward the bedroom. In this position the skirt of your dress is bunched up slightly toward your hips exposing your pussy to the cold air of the room, you shiver at the sensation. You start to squirm in anticipation. While keeping your locked on his shoulder Jongho flips your dress the rest of the way up and uses his thumb to tease your entrance. 

“Someone is wet for me.” He says continuing to play around with your pussy. Jongho shifts his head to the closest part of your thigh and bites it hard. You squeal and moan at the pain. He kisses your new mark before tossing you onto your bed. “The things i’m going to do to you (y/n).” He stands at the end of the bed looking down on you and the only thought that is going through your mind is, big. His wide form casts a shadow over you and you can’t help but shiver at the form before you. He lets out a frustrated sigh before he grabs the collar of his hoodie and pulls it off in one smooth move. He pauses with the sleeves of the hoodie still on his forearms, the material gathered at his middle covering his bare stomach. His broad and muscular chest is now exposed revealing the deep heaving breaths, you realize your own breathing matches his. He is pointing daggers at you with his stare, it's so intense and pointed that you swear your heart skips a beat. His eyes shut slightly as his head tilts left and right, the movement accompanied with the popping of his neck joints. He lets out a moan and his usually big eyes, now half lidded, are pointed at me once more. He removes his arms from his hoodie sleeves and his full torso is now bare. He doesn’t have a full set of abs, but the area is muscular nonetheless. His hands now reach for the button of his jeans but he makes no move to unbutton himself.

“Why is my girl still dressed?” He asks with a shit eating grin lighting up his heated features. He extends his strong hands to help you to your knees. Your shaky hands make a move to undo the bow tying the apron to your figure, but you can’t seem to get the thin straps to budge. You look back up at him to see his arms crossed, making his shoulders look that much broader and stronger than he already does. 

“Need some help baby?” You nod still not able to find your voice, lost in the fog of arousal. He pulls you to your feet, keeping one arm around your waist and the other makes quick work of ripping the fabric off your body, leaving you in your favorite black dress. He turns you around and slowly unzips you from the dress. As the fabric slides from your body you are hit with another rush of arousal. The dress hits the floor and Jongho makes quick work of your undergarments. His hands explore your body, your moans echoing you in the room. His thumbs tease your nipples the way you like as he leaves kisses and hickies on the untouched side of your neck. Once he has you melting in his hands he moves one down over your stomach stopping at your pussy. 

“I bet you are going to be so wet for me baby.” He slides two fingers between your folds, groaning at the state of your pussy. He sinks his teeth into your neck again as he rubs circles around your clit. Your breath hitches and your moans get louder.

“That’s it baby. Sing for me.” He coos as he continues his motions. Kissing and moaning into your neck as he rubs your clit. The build up is coming at you fast, your breathing becomes more erratic and you find yourself swearing Jongho’s name. 

“Fuck- Jongho! I’m-m gonna cu-m.” His thumb takes over for his two fingers so they can slide into your pussy. You gasp and the new sensation sends you over the edge. Your eyes shut and your entire body goes fuzzy with your orgasm. 

You don’t really feel it, but somewhere in your comedown Jongho moves on to the bed. He positions himself between your legs and resumes pumping his fingers in and out of your dripping pussy. His back is bent showing off the strong muscles to your hazed eyes as he takes your nipple into his mouth. Pleasure erupts from you again. He moves to your other breast and he hooks his fingers inside, skimming his fingertips over your g-spot. He releases your nipple with a ‘pop’ and removes his fingers from your pussy. You start to whine but stop when you see Jongho take his fingers and suck them clean of your juices. 

“You taste so good, baby.” He smiles and leans in to kiss you. Your lips move against each other like a dance. He takes off his pants and underwear and repositions himself at your entrance. 

“You ready for me baby?” You nod and he doesn’t move.

“I need to hear you baby.” He gives you a longing look, and places a kiss on your forehead.

“Yes baby. Please.” He smiles and pushes himself into you. You hiss at his size as he stretches you. He moans as he slides his full eight inches inside you. He slowly pulls himself back out, repeating the movement. The pain slowly turns to pleasure and you begin to feel the slow build of another orgasm rise inside you.

“Fuck (y/n), your pussy is so good.” He pants. He flexes his hips harder and harder slamming his cock deep inside you.

 “Oh baby, I can never get enough of you.” The mix of your moans and curses fill the room and create a beautiful symphony. He continues to moan sickly sweet confessions into your ear, making your building orgasm hurdle faster toward release. 

“Baby, I’m so close.” You whimper into his general direction, unable to focus your eyes due to the overload of pleasure fogging your vision. You run your hands up his arms dragging your nails along his smooth tanned skin until you reach his shoulders where you sink your nails. He growls and pounds harder into you hitting that special spot causing your moans to grow louder and more intense. 

“Fuck, come for me baby. Come for me (y/n).” He leans down to kiss you, claiming your mouth as he fucks you. The pressure continues to build until you come again. He follows after you shortly, filling your pussy with his load. After a few moments he slowly pulls his dick out of you and watches as his cum spills from your entrance. 

“So much better than that turkey.” You can't help but burst out laughing. He looks at me confused, but after a minute he understands the joke. 

“It sounded like you fucked the turkey then me.” You say sitting up on your elbows, your smiling face looking at his now rosy one. He grabs both of your cheeks and plants a big kiss on your lips. 

“Seriously, I have to finish the turkey. The boys will be here in 6 hours!” You jump up from the bed, forgetting your boyfriend's cum spilling out of your pussy and running down your legs. He laughs as you run from the room and into the bathroom to go get yourself re-ready for the party tonight. 

—------

Hours Later:

Everyone is gathered at your dining room table and starting to dig into the meal you have spent days preparing. Yunho and Hongjoon are talking about the latest comeback and how the dance routine is going to go with the new title song, Wooyoung is basically flirting with San and the former is pretending not to love it. 

“This turkey is delicious (y/n)!” Yeosang praised.

“Thanks Yeo!” I raise my drink toward him.

“The secret is in the stuffing.” Jongho added. You kicked him under the table and gave him a dirty look, He just smiled and leaned over to kiss your cheek.

#ateez jongho #choi jongho #jongho smut #ateez #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #jongho x reader #smut #atinywhore #jongho

[anthonsgi]

★’･ﾟ:｡･:*:First kiss with HSR characters PT.1:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

【Note: Hello! I haven't written anything in a while, but I recently got a surge of motivation, so why not take advantage of that? :) There will be a few parts because I want to write for many characters and the process of writing each one is really long for me so I prefer to spread them out a bit, so if the character you would like to read about isn't here, keep an eye out for future parts, perhaps I will include them there! As per usual, English isn't my first language and I'm learning as I go, please be patient with me. Requests are open! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧】

【Pairings: Kafka, Argenti, Blade x GN!Reader】

【CW: I may have added some angst here and there, but I couldn't resist (I tried to end it with a good, slightly bittersweet conclusion each time though)! I wanted to make the characters' traits as similar to the game's as possible, but a few things may still be out of character, sorry in advance!】

a lil note: this is literally just all of these characters being absolutely SMITTEN for you and them fawning over you, but every day is a good day to get praised left and right, no?

☆〜KAFKA〜☆

It shouldn't be much of a surprise that you fell in love with this young and exceptionally charming woman. As a Stellaron Hunter, she ensures that Elio's predicted plans are carried out. That being said, you were a completely unpredicted element in a series of missions; there was never a mention of you ever being included in situations that you always found yourself stuck in. Kafka always saw it as "the usual result of the unforeseen nature of destiny," as she liked to explain to you.

After a while of simple acquaintance, she has grown more fond of you than she has of anyone. Not only were you beautiful in her eyes, which was a big thing for a connoisseur of beauty such as herself, but she felt at ease with you. She may be a sly, unbothered criminal whose prize for capturing her is enough to provide many good-lived lives for a bunch of Vidyadharas, but she actually really appreciates the times when she doesn't feel like she's being chased by people or by time itself.

Being with you was as enjoyable as studying the waves—a peaceful activity, a thought-provoking process. She desired to look at the horizon and discover more than meets the eye, however, it was quite impossible. The job of a Stellaron Hunter is challenging not only because of the relentless pursuit of destiny and the never-ending dangers but also because it entails never staying in one place for too long, never forming more meaningful connections, and never attaching yourself to finite, frail matters. Even though she knew she was more unlikely to run into the same individual twice as a Devil Hunter than she was now, her options were usually limited.

Kafka isn't one to fully hide her true feelings; she spoke very highly of you, your way of being and thinking, your appearance, and your tendency to be the miracle of one's destiny (*cough* talking about herself there). She has developed a habit of complimenting you just to see you squirm away from her gaze and bite your lower lip to try and stop a smile from forming. These occurrences weren't rare; they always followed the same pattern: she said something = you discreetly reacted = she noticed and couldn't stop noticing.

A kiss from her would be more of an indication of her love than a reveal, showing rather than declaring it. It may have happened during one of your late-night chats where you slowly opened up to one another, or it could have happened in the early morning after she invited herself into your home after you had just woken up and weren't sure if you were still asleep. In any case, without having said much, she leaned in, rested her hand on your cheek, and left a tender and delicate kiss on your lips. It didn't last long, but it meant more than a decade of stolen glances and conversations with hidden meanings.

It didn't feel like a goodbye kiss, it never did, but it was clear it was some form of leaving you wanting more, leaving you yearning for her to come back and see you again, and leaving you wondering how long it would be before she does it once more.

☆〜ARGETNTI〜☆

Knight of Beauty, a follower of the fallen Aeon Idrilla. He's constantly on the journey to honor the principles of beauty itself, spreading the grace of his Goddess all over the universe. Discovering numerous forms of beauty in the ordinary and in the extraordinary. When he first laid his eyes on you, it was as if time began to bend around you, a black hole in which the concept of time didn't seem to exist, trapping anyone and everyone residing in its proximity.

Recognizing refinement in people was second nature to him, admiring their souls that mirrored their personalities and beliefs. He wished nothing more than to convey compassion to those who possessed honorable qualities, pure hearts, and desirable traits. Your beauty shone with such radiance that it put the stars to shame; your existence was an excellent reminder of Idrila's presence in the universe.

To Argenti, love is a miraculous feeling that is a joy to experience; it reflects a person's deepest desires and is an act of care so poetic that it almost brings a tear to the eye. In a way, having never experienced it before and having no opportunity to try due to his commitment to traversing in solitude, he decided it wasn't he who was supposed to feel it and that he was merely destined to admire the beauty of it from afar.

Meeting you meant the world to him; you made him feel love for another person for the first time—the all-consuming love from every classical novel he had read. The purest form of it is tragic love, one that breaks down the foundations that hold one's life in perfect balance. He spent several days and nights with you, staying in one location longer than he ever did since becoming a knight—the place where he started to ponder his destiny and his vocation.

He made every effort to push these thoughts away, thinking such things felt like a violation of the universal code of chivalry he upholds, yet when he gazed at your gentle smile as he held your hand, it was a tougher battle than that of a wax candle facing the sun. He was melting into a pitiful puddle as your very being formed him again, never to be the same as before.

One beautiful night, when the birds had gone to sleep, no expectations were laid forth, and no secrets were to be unveiled, Argenti took you by both hands, kissing each knuckle as if they would break if he put pressure on them. He spoke of you as if you were the one he had devoted his life to worshiping, his lips singing silent praises; perhaps it was a prayer, perhaps an apology. His eyes met yours, a nonverbal plea, and you leaned in, connecting your mouths in a passionate kiss, electricity coursing between each soft teeth clashing.

What an outstanding farewell kiss that was. The thought alone made you gulp down the lump growing in your throat. Argenti has to leave, or rather, ought to leave; otherwise, he's afraid he may decide to stay. He's certain your paths will cross one day; it's just the way of the world. Either way, he always finds himself drifting towards beauty. Behind him, he will leave a timeless tale of a wounded and repaired heart, as well as a dose of fate that makes no mistakes.

☆〜BLADE〜☆

The undying man who became a blade, a shell of a person, a mara-stricken monster with no hope for craved demise. His story is one of endless agony and misery. In this everlasting life, Blade's abilities are used in matters including bloodshed, spreading the pain he felt himself, and only then would he feel himself disappear, even for a moment. As bitter as that was, it was reality, his burden to bear. Blade didn't have "companionships" and never needed attachments. The closest he had to an acquaintance was Kafka, whose voice managed to calm the monsters who grew inside him relentlessly, and possibly Silver Wolf. However, he didn't understand her, nor did he wish to.

How you were able to capture his wounded heart remains a forever-unsolved mystery. He, of course, didn't decide one day that the way you laughed made him feel emotions so intense that he wondered if what he was feeling was some form of suffering he'd never experienced previously or that his intensified urge to protect you wasn't just due to the fact he was always nearby when danger struck, but because he genuinely cared. It was a lengthy process imbued with a myriad of understatements and denial. An "I love you" leaving his lips was as bizarre as the prospect of hell freezing over... yet when it did happen, you only wished to hear it again.

He frequently wonders why he finds himself faintly grinning primarily in your presence alone (and obviously during combat). When you resided in his vicinity, everyone could feel a shift in the atmosphere surrounding him, as well as a change in his usual behavior. It was almost comical to observe, especially to his fellow Stellaron Hunters, who never missed an opportunity to tease him. Nonetheless, love expressed by a presumably loveless man is as fascinating as it is arduous. Your existence was curative, helping him to rediscover parts of humanity he thought he had lost, yet healing is a part of him he has come to loathe with every fiber of his being. At one point, he distanced himself, as if limiting your healing influence on him was the sole thing that he could control about his 'condition'.

That didn't last long, and he scurried back to you like a moth to a flame. Blade didn't grasp the concept of physical touch as a kind of comfort; it never failed to remind him of how many times he had been hurt. You, once again, were the exception. Gentle arm touches, random lacing of fingers, your scent, and that insufferable (not really) look in your eyes whenever you stared at him drew him in. As much as he despised life, he did not detest the idea of living simply to be with you; that paradise that always seemed to be out of his reach, a mere push away, appeared to be standing right in front of him.

A minor brush of your body against his made you excited, but a kiss? It's overwhelming to even imagine. You'd have to initiate it, subtly steering the conversation to a topic where it wouldn't be too odd to inquire about moving to the next step in your relationship, acting as lovers. If Blade didn't wear a stoic expression on his face more than half the time, you could tell by his nervous swallowing that he would be at least blushing a little. He wasn't an adolescent, and he didn't think of a kiss as the grandest gesture of intimacy; nevertheless, that didn't free him of hesitations. Being vulnerable and helpless in the hands of another, all of his shortcomings could be easily revealed.

Kissing Blade had to come naturally when you were alone and indulging in small talk; there was no need for a perfectly timed gust of wind or a captivating blanket of stars above, just two imperfect people pouring all of their desires, yearning, and passion into a single imperfect kiss. Your lips met, linking your souls and creating a sensible spark deep within. There was no distance between you, and you were both entirely defenseless against the other's will. After you moved away, it was as if a thousand sentences were pulled from your mouths, yet no one spoke a word. With swollen lips, you were unable to resist a grin while Blade leaned in for another kiss.

lil ending note: hope you enjoyed! also, I have to mention that I know that both Kafka and Blade are Stellaron Hunters so the main problem portrayed in Kafka's part (the never being in one place too long) could potentially be brought up In Blade's part as well, but I decided that would be pretty repetitive so I wrote about Blade's history instead :D

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x male reader #honkai star rail x female reader #kafka x reader #kafka x you #kafka x y/n #argenti x reader #argenti x you #blade x male reader #blade x reader #blade x you #blade x y/n #blade x gender neutral reader #blade x female reader #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x male reader #hsr x female reader #argenti x male reader #argenti x female reader #argenti x gender neutral reader #kafka x female reader #kafka x male reader #kafka x gender neutral reader

[cambrinkownsme]

⁺˚⋆｡°✩needy✩°｡⋆˚⁺

kate martin x fem!reader

themes :

-fluff (if you squint your eyes)

-smut☺️

warnings :

-sexual content

-18+

it was the night that kate and her team would come back from the away game they had two days ago. me and kate weren't always in touch 24/7 while she was away which was actual hell for the both of us. we would only call once or twice a day and could only text a little bit throughout the trip. i spent most of my time taking care of our dog, macy. going on walks more than usual, going to dog parks things like that. since i didn't have my human version of a golden retriever i spent most of my time with our border collie.

every time i got a call from kate i would drop everything to answer. i would jump into my bed and kick my feet while she rambled on about how good she did and i of course would praise her since i watch all the games on tv. words can't even describe how much i need to hear her voice.

this away game was to indiana and kate claimed that there weren't many views she found enticing but she still sent me as many sky pictures as she could. she always try's to share wherever she's going with me. she's caring like that.

i got a call from kate this morning saying that she's finishing her packing. she even facetimed so that she could show me how organized her suitcase was. (it was not organized at all.) we called all the way until she had to get back on the road to get to the airport. the second she got in the car i heard taylor swift playing from the car speakers. enchanted to be specific.

"is that my favorite?" i squeal as i here the beginning of my favorite song ever.

"i forced them to play it baby" kate whispered back into her phone. "alright hun we are headed to the airport now i'll text you once i'm on the plane. i love you"

"i love you too" the words leave my mouth while an immediate feeling of loneliness lingered on my tongue. i hung up the phone and rolled over to see macy sitting next to me with her tongue out. she quickly got riled up as i poked at her floppy tongue.

we played around the apartment for a little while before i sat down to catch my breath. the amount of times i picked up my phone to check if kate texted or called was uncountable. i set my phone down after seeing that she hadn't reached out yet.

my eyes began to get heavier and as i was about to fall asleep i heard macy whining from across the apartment. without hesitation, i stood up and rushed over to where macy was which happened to be in me and kate's room. there my dog was rummaging through a small pile of kate's sweatshirts. i crouched down to the floor to pick up one of the jackets. i remembered that before kate left she asked me to wash this exact pile so thank you macy for reminding me.

after washing the sweatshirts i couldn't help but slip on one of them. it was my favorite after all. a tan-ish fleece sweater that felt perfect around my body. once the laundry was done i took the sweater and began hanging the others up in kate's closet.

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

a couple hours had passed and kate already sent me a couple texts letting me know where she was and how she's doing. i was still in the sweater, cuddled up on the couch watching friends with macys head under my elbow. it honestly seemed like macy was more interested in the show than i was. i couldn't get kate out of my head. everytime my phone vibrated i would jump up to grab it off of my charger and see if my girlfriend texted me.

most away games are somewhat like this but this one felt different. as if the girls were out of state for more than a couple days. this felt like weeks without my girl. and let's just say that my attachment issues have gotten worse and worse everytime kate left.

after a couple more episodes of friends i finally got a text from kate saying that she was getting off the plane in 1 hour then it would be a 2 hour drive. that meant that it was time to make dinner. before kate even left i decided on making lobster bisque for the first time. it just felt right.

before i started cooking i obviously had to play music so i turned my cooking playlist which is literally just taylor swift songs but who cares. i threw on a pale yellow apron and began to get my ingredients out.

the actual time it took to cook the meal was only around a hour but i had to run to the store to get heavy cream. along with the bisque i made some asparagus and prepared a couple drinks.

by the time i finsihed setting everything up on our table, i got the text from kate saying she was only 15 minutes away. for finishing touches i lit a candle and put on noah kahan to play in the backround.

just before kate pulled into the drive way i rushed to my room and switched into some light blue lingerie. i put my shorts on along with that same tan sweater. i came out of the room just in time to catch kate as she walked in.

the first thing i saw when my girlfriend walked through the door was the largest smile ever. my body immediately latched onto kate's chest wrapping my legs around her hips and wrapping my arms around her back. the sound of her laughter in real life was like the biggest breath of fresh air going through my lungs.

i dug my nose into the crook between her neck and shoulder. her chin rested on my back and i felt her laughs run down my spine sending even more serotonin through my veins.

"i missed you so much" my voice was muffled under her skin but by her squeezing me tighter i knew she still heard me.

"i did too princess" kate's hands moved down to under my thighs to lift me off of her.

i flailed my hand to the right to show her the dinner i had set up for us. her hands went over her mouth to cover her absolute awe. she giggled against her palm and pulled me into another hug placing a sloppy kiss on my lips.

"you did this for me?" she said as she made her way to the dining table. i nodded back eagerly while swaying my hips back and forth.

there were so many things we talked about during dinner it's hard to list it all. half of the conversations were me telling her how good she did during her game and that i was thinking about her the entire time she was gone. i noticed her beginning to blush when the lace bra strap peeked through her own sweater.

"i just noticed are you....wearing my sweater?" laughed followed out of her mouth after she swallowed a spoonful of the food.

"yes. yes i am" i said confidently while holding my chin in the air.

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

after dinner was finished we decided to go back to our room to watch a movie. we decided on watching my favorite, lady bird. once the movie started playing i could feel kates hand wandering up my shorts closer and closer to my panties. before anything else happened she lifted my leg on top of hers and left it to rest there for almost halfway through the movie.

throughout the movie i could still feel her fingers teasing with the hem of my (her) sweater and pulling at the drawstring of my shorts. small whines left my mouth everytime i felt her warm hands against my bare skin. a soft shudder left my mouth when her hand finally wrapped around the back of my hips, pulling me ontop of her lap. the movie was out of the picture now.

kate leaned against the headboard as i straddled her hips. her hands had a strong grip on my waist once i found a good position to sit in. without speaking i inched my lips closer towards kate's and gently pressed a few kisses against her lips.

the kiss began to deepen as kate's hands moved between my ass and thighs. i felt her fingernails dig into my soft skin causing me to gasp against her mouth. she slowly shoved her tongue through my lips and intertwined it with my own tongue.

as the kiss got sloppier i began to grind my hips against kate's jeans. the rough material peeked through my thin shorts just enough to send soft moans up my throat. kate's grip on my waist for tighter ad she moved me at a faster pace against her.

i moved my lips down to her jawline, taking my time to kiss every inch of her. my lips left a trail of saliva as i made my way down to the collar of her jacket.

"take this off for me baby" i whispered to kate, letting my lips graze over her ear.

without hesitation she tore her jacket off along with the tank top underneath, leaving her in a just a black nika sports bra and her jeans.

i continued kissing down to her chest, leaving dark marks across her collarbones and neck. kate let out a whine once i began to suck on the sweet spot at her chest.

"baby please...." kate groaned out.

her voice became louder as i made my way down to her abs still making sure to leave kisses in as many places as i could.

once i reached her belt i didn't wait any longer. i couldn't. i unbuckled her belt while kissing around her hips. kate lifted her hips up enough for me to slide her jeans off and toss them to the floor. i pushed myself back up to her lips, placing kisses on and around her lips as i slowly took of her boxers. one last kiss was pressed against her lips before i moved back down to her thighs.

i got a grip on her lower thighs and pulled her to the edge of the bed so that she was sitting up. just to tease her, i left a trail of kisses all the way from her knees to her bare pussy.

as i got closer i used one of my hands to gently spread her legs enough for me to fit my mouth against her cunt. i slowly circled my tongue around her clit, taking my time just how kate likes.

her hands quickly were tangled in my hair as i sped up my pace. my lips molded around kate's clit, sucking in all of her. eventually i felt kates hips buck against my face making a smirk grow on my lips.

"fuck" she tried to stay quiet but covering her mouth with her hand or a pillow.

my tongue lapped through her folds quickly causing kate to let out groans that couldn't be muffled. i continued sucking around her pussy until her thighs were wrapped around my ears making it harder to hear her beautiful voice. i didn't mind though.

"fuck right there" i heard her moan out.

kate's heels slightly lifted up off of the floor once i forced my tongue deeper in her. i finally curled my tongue in just the right place to make her cum on my lips. her thighs loosened their grip revealing her screaming my name.

i pulled my mouth off of her cunt and moved back up her lips. kate's hands were still entangled in my hair but eventually moved back to my hips. i crawled ontop of kate's lap back into a straddling position. our lips continued to melt together while i gently began grinding down on her hips again. she pulled away for a second to push her self back against the headboard again.

once we were back at our first position, kate wrapped her hand around my back scooting my closet to her chest. i felt her fingers fiddling with the sweater that i had on. without saying a word i took of the sweater revealing the light blue bra i had put on for her before she got here.

her hands immediately gravitated to my tits massaging them in a circular motion through the lace. she surprisingly did not ask to take my bra off so she began to move her hands closer to my thighs that were still covered in a pair of shorts.

"may i?" kate teased at the edge of my shorts.

i nodded enough for her to slip off my shorts and throw them in a pile across the room. now that i was left in only my matching bra and panties kate placed her hand right against my clothed pussy. she used three of her fingers to apply pressure against my entire cunt.

a loud whine left my mouth followed by strings of curse words. kate took this as a sign to slip off my soaked panties and toss them away from us.

"my turn then right?" kate cocked her head to the side right before dipping two fingers in my sopping wet entrance. her fingers began pumping in and out at a slower pace. it just wasn't enough for me. i started to move my hips enough to ride her fingers sending an electric feeling through my skin.

my head tilted back at kate hit my g spot. a couple tears began to fall down my face now that kate started speeding up her fingers. she slowly inserted a third finger causing my back to arch.

i tried my best to not look into kate's eyes knowing that she was probably smirking at how much noise i was making.

soon enough kate drove her fingers deep enough to make me cum for the first time. i road out my orgasm and began to work at my next one. i looked into kate's eyes for a split second triggering her to press her lips against mine. since her hands were busy fucking me and holding moving my hips at a steady pace, i moved my hands up to her jawline twisting her head to fit her nose right next to mine. like a puzzle piece.

fuck i missed this.

#kate martin #lesbian #wlw #smut #basketball #vacation #iowa wbb #iowa #iowa hawkeyes #indiana

[1anxiousbeancrying]

Ok I never see anyone talking about the fight between vaggie and lute so I'm gonna break it down. It's such a quick fight but it's so brutal. The first part of this fight happens within 20 SECONDS.

As the fight starts lute grabs vaggie and flies up to get more power as she slams vaggie into the floor. And the speed of it gives vaggie little time to counter it.

Next lute has vaggie pined under her, vaggie picks up a glass shard to try and stab lute with, which she redirects back towards vaggies eye. For the entire first part of this fight lute was only going for vaggies eye/face for attacks rather than just simply defeat her.

Then vaggie manages to semi knock lute off of her only for lute to throw/kick her into a glass pot.

Lute aims her sword higher again, which vaggie blocks with her arm, and in the next shot you can see it actually cut her.

She shoves lute off to try and make some distance between them.

Lute charges once again aiming for vaggies eye, vaggie dogged and lute hits the wall instead.

Lute tackles vaggie to the floor, they both get up then lute slams her head against the counter twice.

Vaggie then picks up one of Alastors radios and smacks lute in the face with it. (I don't think Alastor would appreciate you breaking his things vaggie)

It cuts back to Charlie then back to vaggie so we don't really know what happened next, vaggie falls to the floor, lute then picks up vaggies spear and stabs her through the hand with it.(ow) We could also assume that lute had narrowly missed slicing vaggies face in the part of the fight we didn't see because she has two small cuts on her face that weren't there when she was slammed into the table.(We see this quite obviously in the show so I'm not putting the image.)

Vaggie then rips her spear from her hand, flips her body round to knock lute of balance and uses her spear to fling lute across the room and into a table.

(there is an animation error here as she's missing all the blood she had on her in the other frames but it looks cool so I'm using it) she then rips the back of her shirt to let her wings out, then fly's up and destroys the metal bars holding mass amounts of rubble, causing it to slam down and trap lute.

Then as we all know vaggie lets lute live, it kinda feels like a call back to episode one when lute says Charlie is unworthy of an exorcist blade and that she didn't matter. Vaggie not killing lute when she had the chance to could make lute feel unworthy.

Lute then rips her arm of to continue her fight with vaggie on the roof or to at least stop her from helping Charlie.

This is such a cool fight so much happens in so little time. It would make an interesting au if lute did manage to land any of her hits and blinded vaggie though.

I hope they have a rematch though because this is the one of the only if not the only close combat fights in the series,(without guns or powers)

#hazbin hotel #vaggie #hazbin hotel vaggie #charlie morningstar #hazbin hotel lute #lute #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

Spilled Ink

Pairing: Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike x f!reader

Word Count: 7.5k

Summary: Uhhh Marcus Pike as the world's softest tattoo artist that's it that's the fic.

Warnings: Lots of tattoo talk, obviously, which includes needles, tattoo guns, pain, mention of bleeding, etc.; reader is explicitly coded as neurodivergent because I said so; yearning; lots of kissing; Marcus Pike being a goddamn menace and he fucking knows it

A/N: @kedsandtubesocks made a post about Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike (original post HERE) and then I wrote 7.5k words in 12 hours, as one does. All credit for the idea goes to the amazing Erika who entrusted me with this idea and THANK GOD SHE DID because I don't think I could have gotten it out of my stupid brain otherwise. Header pics credit go to Erin @perotovar, who made these with Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike in mind and I'm just WOOFWOOFBARKBARKBARKBARKHOWL. Thanks also to @littlebirdsbookshelf who suffers through HOURS of me sending screenshots every time I write anything. Love you <3

Additional Note on Canon: I am pretending that we never got to see Marcus Pike in short sleeves in the show despite it happening twice. He has full sleeves on both his arms in this fic that he covered up during his time working at the FBI. Because sleeves are hot and I said so.

Masterlist

It’s not unusual, these days, to wander down the sidewalk staring at your phone. Some people are texting. Some people are reading the news–because hey, this is D.C. Others, like you on this brisk morning, are watching the little blue dot on a tiny representation of the city streets, trying to find the address you had typed into the search bar.

A text box pops up, informing you of your arrival, and you finally look up.

No wonder it took you so long to find the place–it’s hardly what you expected at all. You always picture tacky neon signs, bars on the windows, undesirables milling about on the street, smoking cigarettes.

Okay, so you admittedly don’t actually know much about tattoos.

All you know is that you want one–a fact you confessed to a friend over lunch the other week: a conversation that led you here.

“Okay, so get one,” she had said bluntly.

“It’s not all that simple,” you had protested. 

“Why?”

“It’s just… it seems like a lot. Mentally. Physically. I’m not sure I have what it takes.”

“They don’t hurt that bad,” your friend had insisted.

“I’m not just talking about that, I’m talking about… y’know, just everything. The noise. New people. Strangers touching me. It just doesn’t seem like something I’ll be able to do.”

“Oh. Ohhh. Because of the… yep. Actually I might have something for you,” she said, taking out her phone and scrolling through that app that drives you crazy–it’s overstimulation in a convenient package–full of noise, chaos, and flashing lights. 

She must have seen you pull a face, because she held out her hand placatingly. 

“Just finding the name of the place, hang on. It’s a shop right here in DC that went ‘viral’ for this video of a guy with autism who wanted a tattoo to commemorate his dad, but he was only comfortable lying on the floor–so the tattoo artist just… got on the floor with him! It was really cute, and anyway I guess he caters to all sorts of people, so… I dunno. Check it out.”

And here you are. Checking it out.

The words “Government-Issued Ink” are spelled out on large windows, and the punny name–apt for its location not far from the Capitol–makes you snort. 

The shop is bright, warm, and inviting–tearing down your outdated preconceptions that tattoo places must always be run-down, dark, and dingy. It’s also empty this early in the morning, save for a lone figure in the back, seated at a well-worn desk, his head pitched forward over his work.

He’s so enveloped in whatever he’s sketching that he must not have heard the light ringing of the bell as you had entered. You watch him for a few moments–taking in the graceful movements of his hand and the way his fingers grasp the pen. He’s dressed in a plain blue button-down dress shirt, which also doesn’t fit your assumed archetype of ‘Tattoo Artist.’ You can’t see his face; his head is leaning forward too much and a few short locks of dark brown hair obscure your view.

Suddenly wondering if you’re being incredibly rude, staring at someone without announcing your presence, you open your mouth to introduce yourself.

“Um.”

While not exactly eloquent, it serves its purpose. The man startles and looks up in surprise.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, jumping to his feet and letting the pen clatter carelessly to the desk. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“That’s okay,” you shake your head rapidly. “I was, um…” You blink a few times, your nerves getting the better of you as the man comes around his desk to approach the front of the store.

“Interested in a walk-in consultation?” he offers, holding out his hands in a gesture that could either be an open invitation or a shrug.

“I don’t know,” you confess quietly. “I was thinking about getting, uh, a tattoo, and I was told this shop was… good. With tattoos. And other stuff.”

“Other stuff?” he chuckles, smiling warmly. 

“You know… with people who… might not be good at getting tattoos.”

“What makes you think you aren’t ‘good at getting tattoos?’”

“A hunch,” you shrug, expelling a little huff of laughter through your nose. “I was told to ask for a Marcus Pike?”

The man’s smile widens. “You’re looking at him.”

Oh. You aren’t sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this. Marcus Pike is well-dressed and clean-cut, almost startlingly so. You scan up and down, looking for any sign that this man could possibly be a tattoo artist, but the only evidence you can find is a small black target inked between his thumb and forefinger on his right hand. Don’t… tattoo artists usually have more ink? Of course, with him almost completely covered from head to toe, you obviously can’t create a full picture of Marcus’s skin, but the fact that he wouldn’t look out of place in one of the nearby government buildings still takes you by surprise.

You realize you haven’t said anything in response, but Marcus doesn’t seem to be bothered by your deer-in-headlights stare. Instead, he grins again and steps sideways, extending his arm in a silent invitation to come deeper into the shop.

“Come on in. If you’d like, go ahead and sit wherever you want, and we can talk about it. No pressure,” he promises. “I’m not here to push ink on you like a used car salesman; I’m here to collaborate with you. Figure out what you really want. And, if what you want ends up being ‘nothing,’ I totally support that, too.”

There’s something innate and intrinsic about Marcus Pike that sets you completely at-ease. You cast your eyes around, taking in the eclectic seating in the shop–all mismatched, all different colors, styles, and shapes, but all looking incredibly comfortable and inviting. You settle on a giant turquoise beanbag that seems to swallow you whole when you sink down into it, and Marcus grins and sits down in the bright yellow saucer chair beside it. 

“So at the very least, you’re thinking about a tattoo,” Marcus leads. “Can you tell me about that?”

You nod, feeling encouraged by his openness. “Yeah, so… my mom, she passed away a couple of years ago, and it just seemed like I should… memorialize her in some way. Like, in a way that leaves its mark on me like she left a mark on me, and I just couldn’t stop thinking about the idea of getting some kind of permanent art that commemorates her.”

“That’s a great idea,” Marcus says softly. “Lots of people choose to do that after losing a loved one.”

“Yeah, the only problem is that I’m not good with um… noise, or people touching me, or… pain, really,” you confess. “I’m like, the worst candidate for getting a tattoo that exists.”

Marcus chuckles softly and shakes his head. “Personally, I don’t believe that. I think anyone can get a tattoo done if they want it, provided they get it done in a way that feels safe and comfortable.”

“My friend, she uh, recommended your shop because apparently you’ve done some stuff for people with autism and it went viral on TikTok…” you ramble, “and I thought maybe that meant you’d be a good fit for… for me.”

Understanding flickers in Marcus’s expression, and he nods, a small smile spreading across his face. “I hope so,” he says with quiet earnesty. 

A beat passes–just a few seconds of silence–but something small and soft and warm settles down between the two of you, and the comforting feeling sinks down into the pit of your stomach and stays there, latent and waiting.

“So, let’s talk design,” Marcus announces. “Do you have anything in mind? Any images or ideas, however vague? I can do anything from replicating designs to building something completely from scratch for you.”

“I like the idea of it being a unique piece,” you tell him.

“I prefer original designs too,” he says. “Not to sound incredibly cheesy, but there’s no one like you, you know? In–In the general sense, of course.” He chuckles sheepishly, looking down at his hands. “I like knowing each person that comes in here leaves with something unique. Something all their own—I’m rambling,” he says quickly, the tips of his ears turning slightly pink. “One thing about me is that I talk too much. Anyway–did you have any ideas you can share with me about what you’d like?”

“I don’t have a good image in my mind,” you confess anxiously. After all, how can he build a design based on the swirling, disjointed images in your brain? “I think I want it to be colorful, like she was. And… I keep getting thoughts about, I dunno, the cyclical nature of life, something corny like that.”

Marcus laughs. “Sometimes the corny stuff is what sticks with us. So, colorful and commenting on the cyclical nature of life,” he lists off on his fingers, still grinning. “Anything else?”

“I’ve looked through your galleries online,” you tell him. “You have a few that look like watercolor paintings, and I really love how they look.”

He nods thoughtfully. “I’m gonna throw out an idea—Feel free to tell me ‘no,’ because I’m just brainstorming here, but I keep thinking about a tree of life. The leaves could easily be done in watercolor and could be any combination of colors you want.” His right hand twitches–as if reaching for a phantom pen–as he speaks, and his gaze seems to be fixed on a spot on the wall, his eyes glimmering with enthusiasm as he starts to speak faster.

“You could have the leaves and the roots connecting on the sides, making a circle, maybe even having her birth date and death date embedded in the roots…” He blinks rapidly a few times, as if dispelling the image from his head. “Anyway. That’s a possibility.”

“I think that’s amazing,” you say softly, watching Marcus with something like amazement in your expression. “Actually… I really like that idea. It sounds… perfect.”

“Oh,” he intones softly, looking at you in surprise as a bright, toothy smile breaks across his face. “Oh. Well then, let’s do it, huh? One final question: where do you envision getting it?”

“I was thinking on my shoulder. Here,” you indicate, pressing your hand to the skin of your upper arm. “That way it’s visible when I want it to be, but easily hidden if for some reason it needs to be.”

“That’s perfect,” Marcus says. “Plus, the circular design will go really well there. Okay. Great. Um, some things to know about the process. We’ll exchange emails, and you can contact me at any time with any questions, concerns, ideas, changes, anything. In the meantime, I’ll get started on a design for you, and I’ll share initial sketches that you can give feedback on before I move to the final stages of the design. It’ll take a couple of weeks, maximum, depending on any changes you ask for. My only request is that you’re always honest with your feedback–don’t tell me you like something when you don’t. I promise, it won’t hurt my feelings.” He grins widely. “After that, you book an appointment on a day that works best for you. I almost always book the whole day for the appointment to factor in time for copious breaks and making sure you feel comfortable. Does that work for you?”

You nod eagerly.

“Last question,” Marcus says. “Is it okay if I get a close-up picture of your upper arm? That way I can make sure it fits the curvature of your arm, it’s the right size, stuff like that.”

“Mhmm,” you nod again, pressing your lips together and trying not to look nervous. Thank god you wore a sleeveless top under your sweater.

“Only if you’re comfortable,” he insists.

“No, no, it’s fine,” you say quickly, removing just the one arm from your outer layer and pulling it aside. 

You watch as Marcus grabs a little ‘point-and-shoot’ digital camera from his desk and comes back to your side.

“This is just used for design purposes,” he promises. “I delete them after the design is done.”

“I trust you.”

His resulting expression could light an entire room. “Thank you,” he answers quietly. “Okay. Super close-up, just your arm. Cool?”

“Cool,” you confirm, and you hear the camera click several times.

“Actually,” Marcus says, still staring thoughtfully at your bare shoulder. “Would it be okay if I made a couple of little marks–washable marker, of course–to make sure the dimensions are how you want them?”

Oh. You normally don’t like it when people touch you. You knew it was going to happen eventually, obviously, because how else was he going to get the design onto your skin? But it was something you had planned on working yourself up to, not something you had to do today. On the other hand, something about Marcus’s entire bearing makes you inexplicably ache to be touched by him. 

“‘No’ is an acceptable response,” he interrupts your dithering with a quiet reassurance.

And actually, that works to seal the deal for you, and your decision is made in an instant. 

“Yes. You can. That’s fine.” And, to your surprise, you mean it.

Marcus seems just as surprised at your answer–his eyebrows shoot upward almost comically at your response.

“Okay,” he says softly. “That’s perfect. Hang on.” He jumps up again to retrieve a black marker–from what was clearly a children’s set of washable markers. He meets your eyes, and again you take in that sincere, earnest, patient look that endeared you to this man from the moment you entered the little shop.

“Is it okay if I touch your arm?” he asks quietly, still watching you carefully as you nod.

“Tell me if that changes,” he murmurs, dropping his gaze to your shoulder again. His touch, when you feel it, is just as warm as you’d imagined. He’s gentle, cautious, and when he speaks again, his voice remains at that same, soft volume and tone. “I’m envisioning being from about here–” he makes a little black dot, “–to here. What do you think?” 

You nod. It’s the perfect size–large enough to cover your shoulder but stopping just above the point where the sleeve of a regular t-shirt would hit.

“That’s perfect.”

“Okay, so that’s–” he tsks softly, measuring the distance with his finger, “–about four inches, so that same distance across, and–” he makes two more marks on either side of your shoulder. “About like that. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” you answer, smiling with enthusiasm. 

“Great! Let me just…” Marcus draws a few short lines denoting the proposed boundary of your design, and you can’t help the soft giggle that escapes you at the cool tip of the marker on your skin. 

“Sorry,” he chuckles. “One more picture?”

At your nod, the camera clicks one last time. 

“Like I said, that’ll wash off with soap, no problem,” he promises with a smile. “Thanks for that, makes it easier to scale.” He grabs two business cards off his desk and hands them to you. “Can you write your email on this one for me? And you can keep the other one. Like I said, anything you need, just email me. And uh, barring that, you’ll be hearing from me in a week or so with a rough sketch. Okay?”

You scribble down your email and hand the card back to Marcus before pulling your sweater back over your bare arm. You slip the other card into your purse and rise to your feet. “Thanks,” you say, nodding to him.

“Hey, no–thank you,” Marcus returns. “Thanks for entrusting me with this. I mean it.”

Surprising yourself, you extend your hand toward him, and, when he takes it, you feel enveloped with warmth again.

“Thanks,” repeat, a little bit more breathlessly this time, before turning and hurrying out of the shop before you can embarrass yourself any further.

Your shoulder still tingles from his touch hours later.

Rather than it being a week before you hear from him, you receive an email from Marcus Pike just three days later.

Subject: Initial Sketch

Hello,

Please see attached. It’s just pencil for now, but I made a note of the general blocks of color I was thinking for the leaves. You’ll see what I mean when you open the file. Sorry, I know it’s a pretty rough sketch, I was just excited to get this to you. I look forward to your feedback!

Best regards,

Marcus :) 

Eagerly, you open the attachment. First of all, there’s nothing “rough” about the sketch other than the fact that it’s just penciled in. The details are already so intricate, and you find yourself smiling in amazement as you take in the design.

It’s beautiful.

Brackets, each labeled with a different color in Marcus’s neat, tidy handwriting, surround the top of the tree. Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Blue. Violet. 

At the bottom of the image is another handwritten note: *All the colors will blend together and the result should look like a rainbow.

Tears spring, unbidden, to your eyes, as you feverishly type out your response.

Subject: Re: Initial Sketch

Marcus,

I really don’t know what to say other than it’s perfect. It’s absolutely perfect. Made me tear up. Look forward to seeing it in color.

Thanks again!

Not even five minutes go by before your phone vibrates with another email.

Subject: Re: Re: Initial Sketch

I’m sorry if I made you cry! Obviously wasn’t my intention but I’m glad the design evokes emotion :) I’ll move forward with the design as-is and you should hear from me soon with a full-color image.

Marcus :) 

You can’t wait. The next week and a half stretches out excruciatingly, but finally, on a Wednesday evening, you receive another email. 

Subject: Final Design

Hey there!

Hope you’ve been doing well. Thought you might like to see the final design of your tattoo ;) See attached and let me know if anything needs to be changed. Be critical! Don’t hold anything back! Once we agree on a final piece, we’ll get you on the calendar.

Best regards,

Marcus :) 

Your mind skims over the fact that Marcus used a winking-face emoji in your email, because you honestly aren’t equipped to process that right now, and open the attachment instead. This time, you start crying in earnest. It’s perfect. The colors are so vibrant, and they make the tree look as though it’s in a constant state of movement. Your mom’s birth and death dates are entwined seamlessly into the roots themselves, in a way that makes them not readily apparent at first glance, but seeming to just appear out of nowhere upon further inspection. 

Subject: Re: Final Design

Marcus,

If I had any critical feedback, I would share it, I promise. But I have nothing. This is everything I’d imagined and more, and it means the world to me.

Thank you so much.

After a few more messages back and forth, you settle on a date one month out. 

You can’t wait.

As excited as you’ve been for the past month, when you step foot back into Marcus’s little tattoo parlor, the air of finality makes your body thrum with anxiety.

You’re really doing this.

Marcus is at the back of the shop, busying himself with setting up his workspace when you enter. Today, he’s wearing a dark green henley that looks just as soft as he is, and seems to complement his features even more. As soon as he hears the chimes, his head snaps up, and he grins widely. 

“Hey!” he calls out excitedly. “Just getting everything ready. Do you want something to drink before we get started? I’ve got water, juice, soda…” he trails off, waving his hand in the direction of a mini-fridge in the corner. 

“I’m okay for now.”

“Sounds good, but when we take a break, you should have some juice or something else with a bit of sugar in it, okay?” You nod, and he continues. “Okay! Where do you want to sit?”

“Don’t I have to sit in the chair over there?” you ask, gesturing to the traditional chair and bench near Marcus’s work table. 

“Not at all,” he protests. “The table is mobile, I bring it to wherever you feel comfortable.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly. “I’ll go ahead and sit in the chair, though.” Of all the options, it looks like the easiest–you aren’t entirely sure how Marcus would be able to comfortably tattoo you whilst sitting on a bean bag chair. 

“Your choice,” he insists, spreading his hands out in an open and unguarded stance.

You settle in the chair and he sits down on a rolling stool beside you. 

“Okay, so I’ve got a stencil of your design here,” Marcus says, holding up a paper with an outline of the tree for you to see. “It’ll transfer onto your skin exactly how you want it to go, and I’ll just trace it. Make sense?”

“Yep,” you nod.

“Before I do that, though, I have to make sure nothing interferes with the design, including tiny little hairs.” He holds up a pink safety razor. “Are you comfortable with me doing this for you?”

At your tentative nod of consent, Marcus leans forward and gently swipes the razor up and down your shoulder until he’s satisfied. His eyes dart between your skin and your face the entire time–making sure you’re still with him. After he’s done, he talks you through the stencil–confirming its location, gently applying it to your shoulder, and then holding up a mirror for you to approve. 

“It’s great,” you whisper excitedly.

Marcus returns your smile and begins to absentmindedly roll up his sleeves in preparation to start working–-and the question about tattoos that you’d asked yourself upon first seeing the man is suddenly and unexpectedly answered.

You can’t help the soft sound of surprise that escapes from you when you catch the colorful patchwork of designs on both of his forearms, disappearing under the pushed-up henley and suggesting that they go all the way up. 

Marcus catches you staring and grins, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

“I didn’t know,” you say softly. “You keep them covered up.”

“Force of habit,” Marcus shrugs. “I had a desk job for a long time.”

“Doing what?” you ask, curiously. You can’t see the man doing anything but this.

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” he jokes, winking in your direction. 

Ignoring how the wink makes your heart stutter in your chest, you bark out a laugh at his answer. “What? Were you like a secret agent or something?” you tease.

“Special Agent,” he corrects, grinning. 

“Get out,” you deadpan. “I can’t imagine you as a Fed.”

Marcus shrugs, giving you another one of his boyish, crooked smiles. “Would’ve been fifteen years this year had I not finally seen the writing on the wall and run for the hills a couple of years ago.”

“What made you leave?” 

He laughs softly, shaking his head. “That’s a long story. How sensitive are you to noise?” he asks, abruptly changing the subject.

“Uh, I dunno. Kind of depends on the day and the situation,” you shrug.

“Fair. Well, I usually let newcomers listen to what the gun actually sounds like, so there are no surprises. If it’s too loud, I do have noise canceling headphones.”

And miss out on hearing Marcus’s soft-spoken reassurances? No matter how loud the tattoo gun is, you’d rather endure it just to be able to hear him talk. 

Marcus turns the instrument on, and the room is filled with a mild buzzing sound. On your worst days, admittedly, it would probably grate upon your nerves, but you’re feeling relaxed, comfortable, and excited about your new tattoo.

“It’s not bad,” you tell him truthfully. 

“Perfect,” he grins. “Are you all set to get started?”

Heart rate increasing with pleasant anticipation, you nod giddily. 

“I’m obviously gonna be touching your arm a lot,” Marcus says, “so let me know if you need a break from that, the noise, the needle, anything.” Seeing your solemn nod, he continues. “I’m gonna do a little dot right here to let you see how it feels, okay?” He gently touches his index finger to your skin to indicate where. 

“Okay.”

The gun turns on again, and Marcus presses it lightly against your skin for just a second before pulling back.

“...That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“I thought it would hurt more,” you confess.

Marcus laughs. “Well, the same feeling over and over again in a small area can start to be pretty uncomfortable. I’ll check in regularly to make sure you’re still doing fine. Good?”

You smile widely. “I’m really excited.”

His smile softens, his gaze becoming warmer and more tender. “I’m glad.”

His other hand gently cradles your arm as Marcus leans in, a look of intense concentration settling over his features as he begins the design. Engrossed in his work, you take the time to study his forearms. They’re a hodgepodge of designs, clearly done at different times and by different artists, but you can see themes throughout. He likes classic styles, you can tell, and in between some of the more traditional works you can see beautiful references to an assortment of famous paintings. A Dali melting clock here. A sunflower clearly inspired by Van Gogh there. On his opposite bicep, you can just barely make out the side of one design that looks like it might be of a Greek statue. Tilting your head, you realize it’s Nike alighting on the bow of a warship, and you inhale sharply. That’s one of your favorite sculptures.

“Still okay?” Marcus asks, glancing up at you with concern in his eyes.

“Sorry.” You shake your head quickly. 

“Just checking,” he says softly. “Try to be just a little more still, okay?”

“Sorry,” you repeat, laughing sheepishly. 

“Don’t be, you’re doing great.”

You try to fight the way your entire body seems to grow warm at Marcus’s praise, but you can’t stop the way the feeling stampedes through you. You’re being ridiculous, you chastise yourself. He’s doing his job, and you’re getting all moony-eyed.

In order to distract yourself, you continue playing ‘Spot the Famous Artwork’ on Marcus’s sleeves–although, as distractions go, it’s not your best work. You can’t help but focus in on the way his forearm cords with muscle as he holds the tattoo gun, controlling each movement so delicately and precisely, creating a beautiful, intricate design on your shoulder.

After finding a bit of yellow patchwork that's clearly a reference to Gustav Klimt's The Kiss near his right elbow, you break your silence.

“You like art, huh?”

It seems like a stupid thing to say to a fucking tattoo artist of all people, and you immediately kick yourself internally for saying something so obvious. 

Marcus glances up, and, seeing how your eyes are focused on his own ink, smiles. “Always have,” he murmurs, returning his gaze to your shoulder. “Some of those are years-old.”

“Is that how you got into being a tattoo artist?” you ask.

“Sort of,” he answers, brow pinched in concentration as he continues working. “I uh, apprenticed for a shop in college to pay the bills before going to Quantico for training.”

“You’re really talented,” you tell him. “I was surprised to find out you haven’t been doing this your whole life.”

Marcus hums his appreciation as he carefully fills in a root. 

“Can I ask what made you join the FBI instead of opening your own place after college?”

He huffs a little laugh through his nose. “Parents would have killed me, going to college and then doing nothing with it.”

“Running a small business isn’t exactly doing nothing,” you point out.

“Well, public opinion on tattoos wasn’t what it is now,” Marcus says. “They were scandalized by my apprenticeship, but it paid the bills, so they couldn’t complain too loudly.”

“Was it them who wanted you to join the FBI?”

“Mm, not so much,” he murmurs. “It was more like ‘whatever you want to do, so long as you can make a lucrative career out of it.’ Being an artist wasn’t one of those things, so in lieu of becoming one myself, I decided I wanted to protect them instead.”

You scrunch up your nose. “Protect them how?”

Marcus grins up at you and waggles his eyebrows playfully. “Art crimes,” he answers. “Being an art detective was kind of in the limelight in the early ‘nineties after the famous Gardner Museum theft, and I got swept up in the craze.”

“So you spent the last fifteen-ish years recovering stolen art,” you fill in for him.

“Stolen, forged, looted, illegally traded or smuggled…” Marcus offers, not breaking his concentration again. He wasn’t wrong–the repeated drag of the needle across what felt like the same square centimeter of your skin was starting to wear on you. 

“Uh-huh,” you say, forcing the discomfort out of your tone.

Noticing the tightness in your voice immediately, Marcus’s movements stop. “Feeling okay?”

You shrug.

The gun switches off.

“You gotta be honest about how you’re feeling,” he reminds you. “I might be able to create designs based off of customers’ vague descriptions, but that doesn’t make me a mind-reader.”

“It’s a little uncomfortable, but I can endure it,” you insist.

“There’s no need to endure something that’s painful,” Marcus argues with an amused smile. “Even if it involves choosing to repeatedly jamming a needle into your skin.”

You can’t help but laugh, and your heart swells when he joins you.

“C’mere,” he says. “Let me show you something.”

You let him lead you to the other side of the shop, where he stops in front of a large storage cabinet that you'd assumed held various supplies. When he opens it, however, you find that isn’t the case at all.

No, the entire cabinet is filled to the brim with a collection of stuffed animals just as eclectic and varied as the furniture. There's also a couple of shoeboxes filled with every manner of fidget toy you could ever imagine. 

"You can grab one, if you want. I know it might feel kind of goofy, but I promise they help with the pain."

"Okay," you breathe. Your gaze lingers first on the IKEA shark, then on a very soft-looking cactus with an adorable grumpy expression, but when your gaze lands on the largest and arguably oddest toy in the collection, your hands can't help but move toward it. 

"The big guy, huh?" Marcus laughs, taking the giant squid off of the shelf and placing it in your arms. You have to laugh at how large and ungainly it is; its massive black eyes stare vacantly back at you, but the effect is dopey, rather than menacing. 

"Where do you get all of these?" you ask in amazement. 

"Most of them are gifts from past clients, including that one," Marcus says, indicating the squid. "But I think he originally came from the Smithsonian. I was told his name is 'Cthulhu, Lord of the Deep.'"

"Thank you," you say in a small, appreciative voice.

"'S'fine," Marcus shrugs. "Feel up to continuing?"

You nod, looking down at your partially-inked shoulder. "Guess you didn't get very far before I had to stop," you remark, somewhat self-deprecatingly. 

"It's not a race," your artist says earnestly. "We've got the whole day, and we go at your pace. You're paying me, after all." Another wink in your direction.

"Yeah," you nod, confidence growing again. "Yeah, okay." You plop down in your seat, with Cthulhu in your lap, and Marcus takes his place beside you. 

“Gonna turn this back on again,” he announces as the now-familiar buzz fills the room, “and I’m gonna touch your arm–” his fingers wrap warmly and gently around your skin, “–annnd here we go.” 

The needle scratches insistently against your skin, but it isn’t so bad–not really, not with the hilarious giant squid on your lap and Marcus’s gentle, soothing voice in your ear. He talks while he works, sometimes asking you questions about your own life–to which he listens intently and always seems to have follow-up questions–and sometimes telling you stories of his own. You discuss art, obviously, but also music, books, movies, and baseball of all things.

You find yourself wondering if he has this type of easy rapport with everyone who comes in, but you assume he must. He might be the most disarming person you’ve ever met, and it’s hardly a stretch to believe he’s like this with everyone. Still, there’s an ugly, jealous part of you that wishes the connection between you was unique, special. That he’s only this warm with you. 

Marcus was right–squeezing the stuffed toy on your lap is a perfect distraction from the discomfort of the needle, and before long, the sensation fades into the background. As the time drags on, though, the persistent drone of the tattoo gun causes an ache to creep in and settle between your eyes. You take in a deep breath through your nose, count to three, and exhale slowly through your mouth.

Marcus glances up, watching you for a split-second before cutting power to the gun and stretching his back with a satisfied sigh. 

“Break time,” he announces. “Hand’s getting a bit sore.” He shoots you a knowing glance and another one of those crooked smiles. “And you should probably have a little something to drink, maybe a snack.”

“Yeah, thanks,” you say gratefully as he walks over to the little fridge.

“Apple juice?” he asks, holding up a little juice box that looks slightly comical in his large hands. When you nod enthusiastically, he hands it to you.

His fingers brush yours.

If it were anyone else, you’d recoil, but it’s him. It might just be the forced proximity, but…

You’re developing quite the crush on Marcus Pike.

Shoving the thought aside for the moment, you stab the straw into the little hole and take a long sip. Marcus settles down beside you with his own choice–a little can of vegetable juice–and holds it up in a silent ‘cheers.’

Feeling emboldened, you ask the question that’s been burning in your mind since you started.

“So what made you leave the whole ‘helping other artists’ thing behind and start a tattoo business instead?”

Marcus presses his lips together, and for a moment, you fear you’ve crossed a boundary. Just before you’re about to apologize profusely, though, he speaks.

“Have you ever just… woken up one morning, and realized that everything you were working toward, everything you thought you wanted in life… was a lie?”

“I… I don’t know,” you confess quietly, surprised at the emotion behind his words.

“Happened to me,” he laughs softly. “I had moved to DC for what I thought was my dream job, with who I thought was–” he shakes his head, as though dispelling an unpleasant thought. “I had spent my entire life checking boxes: College degree? Check. Well-paying job? Check. House? Check. Check, check check. I spent so much time trying to get ahead, like life was some kind of game to be won. If I said all the right things, did all the right things, if I did everything right… I’d have the life I wanted.”

“What was the life you wanted?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“It was bullshit, is what it was. Saw one too many rom-coms as a kid, I suppose. I thought I was after the picket fence, the dog, the wife and two-point-five kids, that sort of thing. And one morning I woke up, realized that… that relentless pursuit of something I couldn’t even hold–it was all bullshit.”

“So you just… quit?”

“I quit. I wanted to create things again. I wanted to feel inspired. After a bit of uh… frantic soul-searching before I ran out of money entirely, I sold my stupid, too-big condo that I hated and bought this shop instead.”

“Did it work?”

“Well, I’m not bankrupt yet,” Marcus says dryly.

“No, I mean… did you feel inspired again?”

“I did. I do. So very much so,” he says, his voice soft and gentle. His eyes flick up to meet yours, and that comfortable warmth that had settled in between you the first time you had met him… grows. Mutates. Until the warm, tingling feeling feels a lot more like electricity.

An unspoken moment seems to pass through you, but then Marcus clears his throat roughly, setting the empty can aside and standing again, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Wanna keep going?”

Breathlessly, you nod. 

In no time at all, you’re settled back in the chair with one of Marcus’s warm, strong, large hands cradling your arm as the other gently wields the tattoo gun. As he starts to fill in and blend the colors, the pain starts to increase, and you worry one of the fuzzy tentacles back and forth in your hand as you grit your teeth.

“I know, I know,” Marcus soothes quietly. “The color’s the worst part, but you’re being so good for me.”

It helps you to watch him work, so you do. He’s blending in the colors now, and you watch with interest as it starts to take shape. It’s so mesmerizing that you hardly even notice the buzz of the gun or the light sting of the needle anymore.

“And you said you ‘weren’t good at tattoos,’” he teases gently, noticing your obvious interest. 

“Did I say that?” you laugh, teasing back.

“I believe your words were, ‘I’m like the worst candidate for getting a tattoo that exists.’” he reminds you. “And look at you now, huh?”

You duck your head at his praise, unable to withstand the intensity and honesty in his gaze.

“Doing okay after all, I guess,” you say with a sheepish smile.

“You’re doing amazing,” Marcus corrects, smiling warmly. “The type of client any artist dreams of.”

You don’t know how to respond to the things this man says to you. Stunned and at a loss for words, you stare awkwardly at your hand where it still wraps around Cthulhu, Lord of the Deep.

“I’m sorry.” The words are soft, concerned. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just meant that your enthusiasm and your curiosity is the stuff that makes me want to be an artist in the first place.”

“Are you saying I inspire you?” you try to tease, but it falls flat.

Just audibly, over the hum of the tattoo gun, you hear his whispered response. 

“Yes.” 

As Marcus wipes away the last of the stray ink on the purple bit of tree, the tattoo gun suddenly switches off. The silence is almost shocking, and you blink rapidly in confusion.

“Break time?” you ask.

Marcus chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. “It’s all done.”

“It is?” you ask, although you can see the answer for yourself in the large mirrored wall to your right. 

“How’s it feel?” he asks.

“My arm kind of aches,” you confess, “but oh my God, Marcus… it’s beautiful.”

It’s his turn to preen under your praise, the tips of his ears blushing pink as he grins back at you.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says softly. “Here, let me give you a little something for the pain.” 

He squeezes a glob of light-green cooling gel and coats the angry skin with the barest of touches. “Still okay?” he asks, glancing up at you for confirmation.

After the harshness of the needle, the soft press of his fingers is more soothing than ever, and you have to resist the urge to sigh and melt into his touch. 

“Yes,” you whisper.

“You’re going to want to keep this covered for a couple of hours, up to overnight,” Marcus says as he carefully applies a dressing to your shoulder–still softly, but more businesslike than before as he walks you through all of the instructions for care. “Once you take this off tomorrow, you’ll probably see some fluid leaking from it–that’s totally normal. It’s blood, plasma, and extra ink, and it should stop after a few days before it starts to scab over.

 “You’ll want to keep it from drying out; I’d recommend scent-free, dye-free lotion if you don’t already have some,” he continues. “Wash it twice a day and put lotion on after. When it starts to scab, I can’t stress this enough: don’t pick the scabs.” He gives you a serious look. “Repeat that back to me.”

“Don’t pick the scabs.”

“If you do, you could cause it to scar, or even pull out the ink. One more time for me,” he prompts, and you get the feeling that this is always the sticking point in his speech.

“Don’t pick the scabs,” you repeat.

“It’ll take three to four months for the lower layers of skin to completely heal,” Marcus tells you. “During that time, keep it out of the sun, keep it hydrated, and you’re in the clear.”

“And don’t pick the scabs,” you say teasingly. 

Marcus winks at you. “Exactly. Any other questions for me?”

“No, just… thank you. It’s amazing,” you tell him. “You did such an incredible job.”

“Hard not to, when I have such a beautiful canvas.”

Your eyes dart up, expecting to see a teasing glint in his eyes, but all you can see is heartfelt sincerity. You swallow thickly, and he tracks the movement, his eyes dropping down, then back up to meet your eyes. Is it… not just you? Does he feel it, too? Realization slams through you and threatens to overload all of your systems. Marcus’s lips are parted slightly, and the look in his eyes… it’s desire.

“Marcus…”

“Wait,” he says urgently. “Hang on. Come… come over here for a minute, let me–” he dashes awkwardly over to the till on the counter and gives you your total. Frowning in confusion–he wants to do this now? Interrupting that electric moment that had passed between you?–you dutifully swipe your card and numbly take the receipt.

“Now you’re no longer my client,” Marcus explains softly. “I–sorry–I was about to throw caution to the wind and kiss you, and I didn’t… I didn’t want to be unethical, I–”

“Yes,” you say simply, giving your response to his un-asked question.

It’s all he needs to stride forward, gently take your face in his warm palms, and, seeing no hesitation in your eyes even as he searches your face desperately—presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is as soft and as tender as the man himself, which hardly surprises you. Your eyes slip closed as his lips move against you with aching caution. He’s careful in all things, including this–taking your cues, giving you the lead, letting you feel everything he’s giving you.

All too quickly, he pulls back–but his eyes only sweep your face again, a growing smile on his lips as he sees nothing but want reflected back at him. 

When he lowers his lips to yours again, he’s less gentle. One large hand leaves your face too hook around your waist, pulling you closer, closer–and when the proximity causes you to gasp softly, Marcus is ready. His tongue gently slips between your parted lips and you practically melt into him. When your knees buckle, his strong arms are what keep you standing upright, and still–

He can’t seem to stop kissing you. 

You break before he does–pulling back to suck in a few shaky, heaving breaths, and he smiles through his own labored breathing.

“I wanted–I–” he begins, before hastily pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth as if he can’t help but do so. 

“I’ve thought of you,” he tries again. “I thought of you like this for the last month,” the confession finally spills out. “I wanted to–wanted to kiss you so badly all day, but I couldn’t. Couldn’t let myself.” He kisses you again. “But now,” he promises, whispering the words against your mouth. “Now I’m gonna get my fill.”

To punctuate his statement with one of your own, you slant your head and deepen the kiss, wrapping one hand around Marcus’s neck and pulling him closer still. He makes a soft noise in his throat, and the grip on your waist tightens. You lose yourself completely to the feel of his tongue sliding slowly against yours, until he suddenly pulls back.

“I’m doing this all wrong,” he whispers–although he’s still smiling. “I wanted to ask you out to dinner, first.”

“So ask me,” you say with a giggle.

“Come have dinner with me,” Marcus murmurs, shaking his head in quiet amusement as he steals another gentle kiss. “Right now. Tonight.”

“You might have to open all the doors,” you tease. “My arm hurts.”

Another kiss.

“I’m wounded that you think I wouldn’t open every door regardless.”

“Are you always such a gentleman?” you remark with a wry smile.

Another. 

“Well,” Marcus grins wolfishly. He places on last, lingering kiss on your lips and then makes a show of offering his arm. “Not always.”

#marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #pedro pascal

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 3.3

John having to get high out of his mind because he knows he's invited Paul to come play with him is so so sad. These are the same guys who used to sit facing each other on a bed playing guitars for hours, and now this is them?

Is John calling Paul “Jack Lemon” a reference to “some like it hot”? Because if so, I have questions. Anyway, when your estranged best friend shows up to hang out with you and a bunch of people, talking about being in love again and getting jizzed on is extremely normal and acceptable behavior.

This jam session is so fucking painful though. Paul's doing his best to just push through and get them to actually play something and John's just too far gone.

My theory: there's two reasons he did this. 1. He's avoidant and the last thing he's going to do is let on how bad he needs John in his life and how scared he is that if John gets back with Yoko that that'll be difficult. And 2. He couldn't live with himself if he didn't. If he'd kept it from John that Yoko wanted him back and later John cried to him about how much he missed Yoko or something? Paul can't have that.

John singing a snatch of Yesterday before a take of “Whatever gets you through the Night”??? Did either of them ever write a song where they weren't thinking about the other? Did they ever have a minute of peace without the other rattling the bars of the cage in his brain?

“Hold me Darling, come on, listen to me. I won't do you no harm.” Duh it's about Paul. Oh my gosh.

And with Bless You I'm always so torn. There are so many obvious references to Paul which the doc points out beautifully, but situationally it could also be about Yoko. Maybe it's about both of them in the same way that don't let me down is about both of them.

Anyway the cosmic visuals are gorgeous.

Why'd you have to phrase it like that though? Twice?

Hall of Fame moment. It's a high point for him career-wise and he chose to pull Paul into his spotlight. Not only to sing Paul's song, not only to name-drop him, but to publicly call him an official romantic title. Not “boyfriend” or “ex-wife” which both could've been much more mocking if that's what he was trying to do. But “fiance”. It's official and respected, but it's still got the lustful, unsettled, connotation that something like “husband” lacks.

Johann Weener, everyone. What a loser.

Everyone who still refers to Lennon Remembers like it's the fucking Bible listen to this. It doesn't go on for the next five years, let alone fifty.

John refusing to walk to blocks to sign the papers when George and Paul flew over the ocean. And only on the basis of astrology. He really didn't want the divorce. My heart aches for him. But he made his bed as they say.

I'm putting on my tinfoil hat again here, but I do just have to point out that one of John's first songs, “Hello, Little Girl,” has a line that goes, “you never seem to see me standing there”. And the earliest draft of WISHST, which was started soon after, answers that line. “I saw you standing there.” (Yes, it said you originally, not her). So maybe. Just maybe. That song wasn't just a Paul song, but a song that John knew Paul had put a message in for him. Okay, I apologize for the insanity. On another note, I do wonder if he ever found out what Paul thought of that.

Interviewer: ≈ at this point, do you like writing by yourself, or do you want to write with Paul again?≈ John: ≈well it's a bit of both. It's the same for Paul. We were talking about it a week ago. Okay, cool. So they definitely talked openly and honestly about potentially writing together again.

John, about their partnership, “There was always the feeling that someone was there if you needed it.” Paired with the gayest picture ever taken and then Paul singing “if I can do anything at all, let me help.” Thanks. I hate it.

John was so excited for New Orleans! What happened? I mean I have my theory based on May's book and the sudden shift in behavior. But it's pretty dark.

You know how crazy Paul is about John in interviews now? How he can't seem to keep John's name out of his mouth? John was worse in the seventies. He's promoting his Rock’n’Roll album, talking unprompted and romantically about how he met Paul, when the interviewer reminds him what relationship he's supposed to be romanticizing right now. So John remembers too and dedicates the album to Yoko who he's just got back together with.

Biconic quote.

Interviewer asks, after John's brought him up, if John's pleased with how well Paul's doing. John expresses his relief that Ringo has "found himself a niche" and then

I really do think that last bit sums up a big chunk of how John feels about Paul, and why he feels alright playing dirty against Paul or slagging Paul off. Why it would have been the furthest thing from his mind that Paul actually struggled or was insecure. Why Paul had to remind him, “I'm only a person like you, love.”

What an insane thing to think, let alone say. What if Julian had heard that? I'm pretty sure Julian and Paul weren't in contact, really at all, until the eighties, right? So John's doing better than he is at this point (I mean he's his dad, he should be). John is insecure about every possible thing and compares himself to Paul in every possible way.

Baby. He needed some serious help. The thing that sucks about being ahead of your time is that you also have to live in a world that's behind your needs.

And then. “There's always a friendly tv channel to turn to that's going to make you feel less alone.” I wonder if Paul “Call Me Back Again, John I know you're not that tired from the baby just let me in the fucking door” McCartney heard this? It's possible with how obsessive they were, but it's also impossible with how busy he kept himself.

Okay, here's the first story we've been missing about Paul experiencing negative emotions. And, of course, as always in this doc, it's paired perfectly with “Don't Let it Bring you Down” which is the musical mission statement of Paul's clenched-jawed smile philosophy.

"I tend to get a bit absolute in my statements." Yes, John. Yes you do. Another quote that Big Lennon fans should keep in mind.

John on the three weeks he took to decide if he wanted to continue the band after the first Hamburg trip: The others were mad because we could've been making money. Yeah, John, Paul suddenly had to work in a factory after he'd thrown away an educated, white-collar career (the first in his family) to be in your band. I'd be pissed too if you just didn't even bother to call. Anyway I just hate how casual John is about it. Someone who never had to worry about money is just never going to get that.

John doesn't even remember a ballpark number of how much they were making. Paul remembers exactly bragging to his professors that he was making fifteen a week in Hamburg. Sorry to go on and on about this right before Paris, but to me it's an important difference between them.

Anyway, the fact that Paris was more than just a vacation for them. The fact that – according to Stuart and John at least – they might not have come back. It's dizzying. They really thought about just running off together. I wonder what made them decide to come back and continue the band.

No offense if you do, but I don't personally believe in this stuff. What would the motivation have been for the tarot reader to tell him that? Either way, fuck him.

Gosh the live version of “Call Me Back Again”. You feel it, physically, how bad he wants this phonecall. And the desperation from such a successful man is fantastic. Literally, John, how did it feel to be the only man in the world that could get Paul McCartney to beg? “Pretty baby” “what can I do?” “Boohoohoo babe.” “I tried the operator, but I just can't get through.”

Reporter at the Wings over America tour: No John Lennon, no George Harrison, and no Ringo Starr, just Paul McCartney. And for everyone here tonight, that seemed to be plenty! Obviously he's loving this praise after all the negative press. Anyone would, and Paul needs it more than most people actually. But I bet part of him is like “stop. Don't say it like that, they already hate me enough as it is.”

How many times has John admitted that he finds Paul attractive? “It was no surprise, you know, when the kids – girls saw him, they go ‘ooh! Ooh!’ right away, you know?”

“I know it's true. It's all because of you.” Playing over this? Are you kidding me? Anyway I've never seen the picture version of this, so I thought I'd screenshot it.

But actually, in a way, the original written lyrics to Now and Then are less depressing than what he sang on the demo. “I know it's true, I'm still in love with you, and if I make it through, it's all because of you,” is obviously sad because they're both married to other people. But at least in that version, John's saying his own personal resilience to life's struggles comes from his relationship with Paul, which is nice. Whereas when John, who is sliding into a self-hating deep depression I'm comparing himself to Paul's phenomenal success, sings “it's all because of you” in a general sense, it almost feels like a callback to the ‘I'm shit and I couldn't do anything but be a Beatle (and ride Paul's boat)’ quote. Which is heartbreaking. I wish he could've recognized his own genius.

But yeah either way it's enough to make your heart heavy. If anyone needs a good cry, just go to the last five minutes of this. That should've been the now and then music video, but Paul's too scared of feelings. Which. You know. Considering how much it affects me, I can't even imagine how much it affects him. So he gets a pass.

“Why must we be alone? It's real love. It's real.”

#mclennon #paul mccartney #john lennon #the beatles #ringo starr #george harrison #understanding lennon mccartney #ulm

[seyaryminamoto]

Azula's most overlooked characterization element

Why, hello there.

It is I.

And I'm back on my bullshit.

I didn't WANT to be. But a bunch of factors pulled me back in.

For the record: I'm not here to start any fights or light the fuse of arguments that I most likely won't have time or interest in responding to. What I AM here for... is to prove that there's something out there a bunch of people are delighted to sleep on because acknowledging it would render maaaany simplistic interpretations entirely invalid...

That group of people includes the fandom, of course. And the original show's staff. And the liveaction's staff, to a fault. Surely the TTRPG ones too. And absolutely, the comic book writers.

Hell, I'll even include MYSELF in that group, even though I'm making this post right now.

I found it really curious that I very recently saw this element mentioned in a pretty neat blog I follow, @atla-lore-archive, I absolutely advise anyone who hasn't checked out said archive to do it if you wish to understand a lot of the "extra lore" the fandom had access to, back in the old days when the turbonick ATLA site still existed and used to be the only source of deeper knowledge about the fandom besides the occasional interview that most people didn't even know where to track down.

But the funny thing is that the post I'm talking about proved that even Turbonick forgot about the people this post is about :')

And that would beeeeeeee...

*cue drumroll*

Lo and Li!

What makes Lo and Li an important subject to discuss?

Why, a lot of things. Among them, the fact that almost nobody brings them into the core focus of any analysis made about Azula's character. I've personally mentioned them once or twice I believe, mostly as negatives, there's but ONE positive aspect I've ever found of them: them being non-benders MIGHT be a reason why Azula isn't shown as being quite so obsessive with firebending supremacy as Zuko was supposed to be.

But that's very much the sole good thing I can think to say about them and it's completely subjective, as good as a headcanon, because we don't even KNOW if they influenced Azula in that sense!

Why do they seem to get overlooked quite as much? Why... let's start thinking about it, shall we?

Lo and Li are Azula's firebending teachers. As far as anyone can tell, they're also her advisors. These two people should be an essential part of Azula's life... but ironically, we seldom see them with her. Most times, Azula isn't around these two. Whenever she is? It doesn't usually look like she's having a good time.

And that's no surprise, considering her first scene with those two very much puts forward a dynamic of cold distance between Azula and her mentors: Azula is bending LIGHTNING. We have not heard of other lightningbenders until that point, and once the full show wraps up, there's only THREE (Azula, Ozai, Iroh). Out of those three? Only one is a fourteen-year-old girl. It's very easy to assume Azula's lightning is actually a skill she mastered unusually early in life, perhaps relatively recently, hence the practicing... but she's pulling it off. She's succeeding. She's doing something that genuinely catches a first-time viewer off-guard!

And Lo and Li's entire opinion of what she did is: "Almost perfect. One hair out of place."

This tells you the Fire Nation's idea of "imperfection" is... insane. Strict. Imposing. Unyielding. Unforgiving. Azula's reaction isn't to get angry at Lo and Li for saying what they did: it's to get angry at herself and try again.

But... that's not the only instance where we see Azula getting angry around Lo and Li.

The next few times Azula is around them, she doesn't seem to have much of an emotional reaction (one is when they tell her to find other allies, the other when they herald her as a great hero who returned home from Ba Sing Se). In the second of these scenes, Lo and Li are praising Azula as incredible, beautiful, all sorts of grand things...! And Azula smiles. She smiles at the crowd. She's not smiling at the old ladies who are praising her... she's mostly just happy to know her people are welcoming her as a hero indeed! Most the fandom would go "true! what an ungrateful bitch! She should've been happy that Lo and Li complimented her that way!!" Me? I wouldn't say that at all. Not just because I love Azula to pieces? But because the only information we have of Azula's dynamics with these two... doesn't seem compatible with the idea that what Lo and Li are saying here is for AZULA'S benefit.

Anyone who's had a hypocritical parent/caretaker/teacher must have endured awkward, horrible, unpleasant moments where this adult figure treats you like shit in private but in public holds you as this grand example, and a perfect child, and they never seem to stop saying they're soooo proud of you even though you NEVER felt that what they're saying is true. Maybe the first few times, you're naive enough to believe it. By the tenth time of incongruent messages? You start to realize they're talking you up as a way to make themselves look better. They're trying to show they're doing their job at raising you/training you, be it whatever it may. The praises are not FOR you... they're for a third person to hear and think "Oh, this adult's so cool, saying nice things about this kid they're responsible for! Nice!"

... You're starting to get the picture now, I'm sure.

Lo and Li reappear in the Beach. Azula is notably chill, enjoying the ride, talking casually with Ty Lee, telling Zuko to lighten up and to stop taking Ozai's choices personally, right? She seems... content. Relaxed.

Then, everything changed when Lo and Li attacked.

We don't even see why Azula is making this face at first. But she does it AT ONCE when their ship reaches the dock.

Who is there indeed...?

The stars of our post! :') if it isn't our elderly twin ladies... who brought Azula to a very disappoting beach house. And when Azula sees the house in question, she makes THIS face.

Judge however you may... even Ty Lee is weirded out by the beach house, going by that expression. Zuko and Mai aren't impressed either. But Azula? The look on her face isn't merely disappointment if you ask me... part of it looks a bit like embarrassment too? This isn't at all what she was expecting when she arrived (she has her old beach house for standards, which makes this extra underwhelming, I'm sure). She counts on Lo and Li to provide them with a place to stay, it goes implicit... and then this is what they do. It most likely isn't what she promised the other three in terms of where they'd stay, hence, I'd dare say there's a component of embarrassment here.

Shortly afterwards, we have our well known scene with Azula being utterly unconcerned with Lo and Li's apparent wisdom to the point of yawning over it. This, too, tells you she's just not interested in whatever those two have to say or bring to the table. Then, they show up again at mealtime and I think Azula just ignores them the whole scene.

After this? Lo and Li vanish until the finale. And what do they do in the finale? Why... it's the first time anyone expresses a verbal concern over Azula's wellbeing! Ah! A sign that Lo and Li have SOME affection for Azula! This time, you pesky Azula fans, you CAN'T twist this into a bad thing! For sure!

... Can't we, tho? :')

What IS Azula's reaction to: "We are concerned for your wellbeing"?

"My father asked you to come here and talk to me, didn't he‌? He thinks I can't handle the responsibility of being Fire Lord. But I will be the greatest leader in Fire Nation history."

And here, my friends, is when we have finally hit the jackpot.

Lo and Li could have been Azula's Irohs. She could've had TWO of him! Then you'd say: "hey! Ozai is such a dick he let Azula have two elderly wise ladies guiding her but only gave one old wise dude to Zuko! Rude!" and it would be further proof of Ozai's favoritism of Azula, right?

... But actually?

Lo and Li are no such thing. Lo and Li aren't moral compasses for Azula in the least. Lo and Li are not beacons of wisdom that genuinely help her sort her way through life. Worth noting: THEY COULD HAVE BEEN WRITTEN THAT WAY. They're not. They're not part of mysterious secret societies, they don't help Azula in any objective, significant, tangible way... there's very much nothing to say they EVER fulfilled the role Iroh did for Zuko. What role, then, were they fulfilling instead?

Why... I think we ought to listen to Azula, shouldn't we?

My take: Lo and Li are OZAI'S STAND-INS.

Someone's going to say "hey why would you assume that when Azula said this in the middle of a breakdown?? Surely she was just DELUSIONAL and PARANOID and ashdgkadhsgkjgh...!"

... Let me counter that one with a fun little analysis excercise:

WHY are Lo and Li Azula's firebending teachers and advisors?

The finale very directly tells us these two are not benders. We could've assumed they were! They're not: Azula's teachers are non-benders.

Has a single person out there ever asked themselves WHY this is the case?

How the hell is Azula, prodigy of the blue fire, epic lightning, cruel and powerful and precise and deadly bending... training under two elderly nonbenders?

Bringing this to a real-life example: do you remember what it was like when you were in P.E. classes and your teacher told you to spend 20 minutes jogging, and if you ever stopped you had to do 20 crunches and then get back to the jogging, and every time you stopped he'd tell you the same thing and you'd want that guy to vanish from the face of the planet? I don't know if that was only my experience, but I rather doubt it.

What did kids typically think/say when that happened?

"I wanna see that old fart doing the same shit he's making us do..."

It's a headcanon indeed to say that this is how Azula must have felt over Lo and Li, but it's VERY likely to be the case. But I'd dare say, in Azula's case, it's even worse because, to put it in another way? It's like taking programming lessons from someone who's never learned a programming language. They'll tell you you're getting things wrong without knowing how to help you get them right because they just DON'T KNOW what you're doing, and are outright INCAPABLE of what you're trying to achieve. They can't offer good guidance based on experience because they have ZERO experience on that subject! And yet they want PERFECTION from you! They expect it!

Lo and Li are these teachers for Azula. We only see them in one scene? And yet everything in the rest of the show suggests that they bring nothing important to the table for Azula, be it professionally, be it personally, be it emotionally... not in any aspect of life.

And this, if you ask me, is why the OG show barely ever brings them into scenes. Why the comics flat-out forgot they existed and even featured people like Sozin and Azulon in Azula's beach hallucinations but NOT the two ladies who looked after her and trained her. Why the live-action didn't even FEATURE them.

And us? The fandom? The fic writers?

I HAVE NO IDEA WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME I READ A FIC THAT HAD LO AND LI INVOLVED IN IT.

I'm not even saying as main characters, I don't even know if that exists, frankly: I mean as minor, or background characters. I have NOT seen those two be used in basically ANY fics I've read. I've scarcely used them in mine! In fact, I PURPOSEFULLY got rid of them early on in Gladiator because I didn't want them to sabotage and get in the way of Azula's progress as a character and I believed they'd do exactly that. They were an obstacle rather than anything useful, so I did away with them and then realized they could still occasionally serve some purpose in certain situations: I even had Azula visit them once and they were actually helpful! Fancy that! But... that's it. That's as far as I could go with them. I can't do MORE with those two because they're not characters one particularly feels compelled to work with.

And from what I've seen? That's the case for everyone.

So, I ask again:

WHY ARE THEY THERE?

WHAT IS THEIR ROLE?

WHAT IS THE POINT OF AZULA HAVING NON-BENDING TEACHERS?

Let's go further and further into logical thinking here, shall we?

Azula is a child. Fourteen years of age at the time she's introduced in the OG show.

Azula has no power over many things around her, particularly, her upbringing. That's in the hands of the adults around her. Her mother, up until she vanished, had some hand in it, then, it all falls to Ozai.

Ozai has been Azula's sole parental figure since Ursa left.

Ozai is the one who would reasonably call the shots regarding Azula's education, as all parents are wont to do... ESPECIALLY when he's a king with absolute power over his children.

... so, Lo and Li? Ozai either gave them the position as Azula's teachers personally, or someone else (Ursa) did, and Ozai either didn't WANT to remove them from the role (cue "Ozai being sentimental over Ursa" theories), or Ozai didn't give a flying fuck about who was training his daughter (cue "Ozai is an abusive dick without a heart or a brain" theories).

Anyone, of course, would likely interject here to say surely Ozai ALSO trained Azula himself because that's what he'd do with his favorite kid, right? See. I don't even disagree with that notion.

BUT IT'S A HEADCANON.

We have zero evidence that Ozai trained her! None! I totally will write that into Azula's backstory in many of my stories, but there's NOTHING in canon to suggest this actually happened and that Ozai was genuinely, actively, frequently involved in her progress as a firebender. Assuming he HAD to be is, still, a headcanon. You can't say that with any more certainty than mine when I say I believe Azula loves spicy foods. Does it seem to be something that would fit with her character? I think so! But if eventually canon goes "AZULA CAN'T STAND SPICY FOODS LOL JOKE'S ON YOU!" I... can't even say a thing about it. People's food tastes aren't reflective of their personalities. They really could do whatever they want in that respect. And that's the case for ANYTHING that isn't part of the show's storytelling or the character backgrounds or any texts we consider canon!

POINT BEING: Ozai, regardless of what you want to headcanon, had Lo and Li as Azula's teachers. HIS FAVORITE CHILD... and her only official instructors are two non-benders. Yang added Kunyo as an old instructor of Azula's when she was young, sure! But Kunyo was sooooo qualified that baby Azula was already kicking his ass. So, for that matter? He doesn't really seem to have been a cornerstone of her firebending development and the only other known teachers for Azula are Lo and Li.

For the last time: Azula's teachers are NON-BENDERS. AS CHOSEN, SANCTIONED, APPROVED AND ACCEPTED BY OZAI.

And with those two remarking on absolutely STUPID stuff like "one hair out of place"? Azula still became the incredible firebender she was.

Cue, now, the irony where Zuko was stuck in the basics 3 years after setting out of the Fire Nation... WITH IROH ACTIVELY SERVING AS HIS MENTOR.

You're not gonna tell me that Lo and Li would EVER be better instructors than Iroh, or are you? Because that makes no sense. Full-stop. Iroh is supposed to be the most profound and complete firebender thorughout the show because he's spiritually enlightened even though I admit I think that's bullshit and he doesn't just teach Zuko how to set things on fire, he actually makes him learn theory and spirituality and his teachings are more profound than just "ONE HAIR OUT OF PLACE".

So.

Banished as he is, disgraced and seen as trash by Ozai, Zuko STILL has a better teacher than Azula does.

... Is this LOGICAL? Is this NORMAL? Does this make SENSE?

If you think Ozai's favoritism of Azula takes the shape of "I'll give you every little thing you ask for, sweetheart, I love you very much, here, have ten million doll houses so you can set them on fire, and all the ponies you ask for and on your next birthday I'll buy you a baby dragon and you'll get your own region of the Fire Nation to govern and a fancy title..."?

Then Lo and Li, unfortunately, are right here to be a HUGE contradiction with your interpretation of Ozai and Azula's relationship.

Azula should have THE BEST teachers. Azula does not. Azula doesn't even LIKE them. Azula is openly shown to dislike them! To be annoyed around them, ANGRY when they're teaching her, she feels they're here to keep tabs on her for her father! In a sense, they're Ozai's SPIES on her! :')

Hence? Ozai's favoritism of Azula MIGHT not be what everyone keeps pretending it is. Maybe Ozai didn't do everything to make Azula get things EASILY... and to be fair? That's not what Zuko said anyway. People interpreted it that way... but that's not REALLY what he says:

"Everything always came easy to her. She's a firebending prodigy, and everyone adores her. My father says she was born lucky. "

Every line in this statement is absolutely questionable and all of it sounds like buuuuullshit to me. This is ZUKO'S perspective. And sorry not sorry, but it's tell-don't-show. People swear by his opinion of Azula and pretend he's absolutely objective about it. He's not.

But "Everything always came easy to her," does not mean "EVERYTHING WAS ALWAYS HANDED OVER TO HER ON A SILVER PLATTER." And yet this is what the fandom has constantly interpreted it as.

Azula might just be a prodigy. Maybe she started out ten steps ahead of her brother: this does not mean she needs no guidance, no training, no help. She's seen training herself over perfectionism in her very second scene of Book 2. And the guidance she gets in order to achieve perfection is actually, objectively, stupid.

This is what Ozai chose for her. This is an OBSTACLE for her growth, just as much as Lo and Li were obstacles for me when I was starting with Gladiator! Azula doesn't have it EASY: she just works herself so damn hard that even shit that should HINDER her does NOT do that. And even when her brother objectively has spent THREE YEARS with an advantage in the shape of being trained by one of the VERY BEST firebenders out there? Azula is still beating Zuko at it. With two non-benders as her teachers.

Where am I going with all this?

To the fact that Lo and Li are overlooked in just about every instance of the fandom.

To the fact that nobody includes them, and their influence on Azula, in their analyses of who Azula is.

I've seen a shitstorm rising over the Netflix characterization of Azula: SHE'S TOO ANGRY, they say. Non-stop. She's sooooo hysterical, all the time! She's just pissed perpetually!

Well. I haven't finished the show yet. But the scenes I've seen Azula in so far? They don't fit the fandom's view of Azula because...

... they're not taking Lo and Li into account.

As usual.

:')

Azula's reactions around Lo and Li being frustration, anger, irritation EVEN in scenes like The Beach, where Azula was FINE until she sees them? That shit is storytelling that went over sooooooo many heads, EVEN MINE! When I saw people going on about how canon Azula is... not insecure? Not angry? Has no frustrations and was only ever smirking 24/7? I... didn't feel that was right. I knew it wasn't right. And when I thought about it hard enough? I realized that one reason why this interpretation of Azula is IMMEDIATELY dismissable is because of Lo and Li: those two constantly made Azula angry. Even if that wasn't their intent, it's nonetheless the effect they'd have on her. And Azula didn't like having them around. She CLEARLY didn't appreciate them the way Zuko does Iroh, for instance! And this could be taken as a flaw on Azula's part... if we EVER saw evidence that these two ladies actually love Azula as a grandchild, or so. If we had any evidence that they actually have cared for her in ways nobody else ever did. If maybe the ones Zuko talks about, upon saying "EVERYONE LOVES AZULA" were these two! And maybe he was jealous of them! Maybe he wanted two old ladies to watch his every move and tell him his every flaw!

... Clearly I'm joking about that last thing, but anyway...

There's nothing to tell us Lo and Li were anything but Ozai's assigned watchdogs to keep control and tabs over Azula. That Azula's immediate reaction upon hearing that someone cares about her is "Oh fuck off, my dad sent you here because he doesn't trust me!" is... telling. It's not just paranoia speaking, even if it sure can be read that way! It's actually Azula's perception of those two, which is 100% supported by what we saw of the twins throughout the show, WHENEVER we did see them: their roles in Azula's life are indeed to keep tabs on her, to keep her under control, to pressure her into perfection, AS OZAI'S AGENTS! Seen this way, it MAKES SENSE for Azula to disregard their concern and immediately assume it's FAKE. She isn't even shown to doubt it, never questions that MAYBE they did care about her! She assumes they don't...

... And considering that, as far as I know, the official concept is that they BOTH LEFT when Azula banished one of them only? That they didn't contest her command, staying to look after her even if she only wanted one? I mean, clearly Azula can't tell them apart, so they could've taken turns: one watches over Azula for 12 hours and the other for the next 12 hours, I don't goddamn know! But they didn't do that. They LEFT. And if they left? It means they don't care remotely as much as they say they do. Not to the point where they'd challenge Azula's orders and help her when they KNOW she's not okay.

And all of this further supports my point.

When we see Azula in the liveaction being angry, bitter, irritable at Ozai's choices?

I see a reflection of the same dynamics that the OG too subtly weaved into Azula's relationship with Lo and Li. I see Azula reacting against Ozai's control over her because she feels it's DISTRUST. She feels it means her father STILL needs to be convinced that she's competent, powerful, ready to do his bidding. It isn't a case where Azula's irritation comes from wanting to rebel against her father... it's Azula wanting her father to UNDERSTAND that she's 100% his supporter and will put everything on the line to serve him and the Fire Nation.

And it's very damn easy to read that exact same thing into Azula's dynamics with Lo and Li as it is to see it EXPLICITLY STATED in the liveaction.

My point?

What the liveaction did is not nearly as much of a distant characterization choice as people think it is.

Ozai is Azula's Achilles' Heel. Everything she became, everything she grew up to be, was for his sake. He molded her to become those things and simply didn't give a shit about raising a daughter, he treated her as a weapon, and absolutely pitted his children against each other, just as much as OTHER adults in their lives did. But the impact of Ozai on Azula in the OG is easy to ignore. Why? Because we SELDOM see them interacting. Because we don't get that side of Azula's character fully explored. Because they didn't want to explore Ozai's character either! They were as cheap as they could be with all these aspects and so, only the people who really got into analyzing things on a deeper level would be able to say, without a doubt, that Ozai abused Azula emotionally with all the expectations and demands he put on his own child. Through the golden child-scapegoat dynamic that people have been bringing up non-stop in the past years.

So, proving herself to her father is what Azula wants to do, more than anything. Proving worthy of his favor, of his approval, is the closest thing she can get to feeling loved. Which is depressing as fuck. Azula gets zero affection: it's not even conditional affection, there's NOTHING for her besides approving words if she gets anything right. And this show's work with Azula's character? It was meant to make these things less invisible to all the fans who like to pretend none of it exists. And yes, I've seen them, crawling all over Twitter shitting themselves in fits of rage because how dare that show pretend Azula EVER had a bad time in her perfect flawless life!!

Well, the irony is that the OG gives you a smidge of evidence -- and yet that's enough -- to show that Ozai was doing very similar things to Azula in ATLA, and her reactions to it?

Huh. No smirks for Lo and Li.

No smirks for the symbols of Ozai's control over her life.

It's almost like the confidence, the smirks, the apparent ease with which she handles everything? Is a front that crumbles easily whenever it concerns the ONE PERSON with power over her life.

I don't believe, worth noting, that Azula's power comes from rage. I've seen people say that in fandom in the past and I find it a completely absurd take when Iroh himself spells out that her bending is about control, about precision, and it's Azula's FURY that makes her a sloppy mess in the finale. It's even INTENTIONAL that when she shoots lightning a second time, in her second establishing scene, THAT SAME HAIR FALLS OUT OF PLACE. She's still angry. She didn't get it "right" this time either. She's imperfect and she's trying NOT to be, but she cannot succeed. And upon bending lightning with emotions (rage/frustration)? That hair falls YET AGAIN out of place. Proof that she's not going to achieve the perfection she's being FORCED (indeed, by her father and the people who are here to represent him, Lo and Li) to strive for.

The liveaction had Ozai pushing Azula for a perfection she couldn't attain either. She's perfectly content in her cruelty at Ozai's side, right until she hears the Avatar was found and that Zuko has a shot at taking away the privileges she's been basking in so far. That she WASN'T nervous about this in canon is pretty damn obvious: OZAI SENT HER TO HUNT ZUKO DOWN FOR BEING A FAILURE. We never saw her reaction to learning that the Avatar was out and about. We have noooo idea what was canonically going on with her back then. The first time we see her besides the flashback is Azula receiving a mission that tells her she's STILL #1 and Zuko is no threat to her because Ozai thinks he's a failure. Thus? She had nothing to fear. Here? Ozai is actively using Zuko as bait to pressure Azula further. And if you're so confident in Ozai's good parenting skills as to believe he somehow WOULDN'T do that? Sounds like you don't understand the very basic and simplistic Fire Lod Ozai from ATLA, and that's not something to be proud of. So probably stop screaming your bad takes at the top of your lungs, because being incapable of understanding Ozai in canon is not a badge of pride, just saying...

FINAL POINT...

This post is not written expressly in the defense of the liveaction and its characterization of Azula. To this point, what I've seen of it doesn't feel WRONG or OFF unless you're the kind of person who thinks Azula is only capable of smirking and if she stops doing that she stops existing or something. Only people who cannot understand the depth, nuance, subtleties in Azula's story would ever be claiming that Azula's relationship with Ozai COUDLN'T be like this, or that Azula couldn't possibly be frustrated with her father or his choices when it's soooo clear what Ozai is going for, and why it's working. But in order to read Azula as a character capable of this range of emotion, frustration and ambition, all at once? You have to be able to treat this character, be it in the liveaction or the OG show, as a human being.

And that's what most the people criticizing this specific change are determined not to do. It's what makes them uncomfy. It's what rustles their jimmies.

Yes. I'm saying it in this very demeaning way because I actually find it quite ridiculous to be this insecure over the portrayal of a fictional 14yo in two TV shows. Whether the liveaction sticks the landing or fails catastrophically, I do not know... but I do know that if it's forcing a bunch of people to rethink Azula's character, and making them panic at the idea that she could EVER have human emotions, even if they're AWFUL human emotions?

Then I'm afraid you're only convincing me that, as bad as that show could ever get? It's getting SOMETHING right. I do love to see misinterpretations of Azula getting slammed in the face by the reality that all those beliefs, headcanons and takes in bad faith are actively, categorically untrue: none of which makes Azula a fundamentally good person, worth noting! But it makes it very clear that reading her as a one-dimensional basic villain, which is what the anti-Azula-redemption crowd actively does, is literally only possible if you overlook, ignore and fail to understand her character and her complexities, be it in the liveaction or in the original show.

There. I said my piece.

Another post, regarding the rest of the liveaction, is bound to come later. I'd say stay tuned but it might take me a while to write it at all. So... wait around and maybe you'll see it someday!

#azula #atla #natla #yep :') #I'm doing it #because I know the bad takes are everywhere so #let's see if mine actually gets any visibility this way #can of worms here we goooooooooo #(this is a bad idea I know it is I'm having a leave of my senses) #(but sometimes you just gotta watch the world burn and this has been... a complicated sad day) #also sorry if anyone saw it without the read more oops I thought I'd put it there #so either tumblr ate it or I forgot yikes #but now it's theeeere #sorryyyyyyyy

[ingravinoveritas]

So I just wanna ask u just does this look like a real happy healthy relationship and in love with each or just put on for show for the fans and why do I feel like she making it all about her again and reminded everyone who she with it feels micheal was forced in the pictures taking with her the red carpet photo she looked bored and annoyed cos michael not paying any attention he just look miserable but I bet if it was David standing there instead of anna his face would be beaming like the one Georgia posted of them 4 together micheal face is electric and see how he lean toward David that best friend goals and I just love seeing them together cos that when he at his most happiness place

Also I find it strange that Anna was left out in staged scene but David wife gerogia made appearance doesn't that strike u as odd and gerogia brought the plus one date a girl could have and it wasnt anna yet they call each other wife clearly not as close etc then David and Michael are it seems.

And did u notice in the scene with David and Tom hiddleson about the dog sitter initially could present as benign and then he and the dog get up to all kinds of hijinks and ultimately disrupt stuffy old Michael sheen boring life but for the better like why put that in the script maybe his life with anna is boring and only staying cos he feels he needs too for the young children what do u think of all this

From @amata-haan along with a screenshot of the group photo:

(Grouping all of these together since it seems we've got a bit to talk about here.)

So, the biggest point of discussion seems to be the group pic that Georgia posted, and I will put up a larger size of that for us to discuss:

When I saw that Georgia had posted this in an Insta story, of course my first thought was "Finally a picture of Michael and David together!" I think that was what we were all hoping for all night, to where it was almost glaring that we hadn't gotten one when the event ended (until Georgia's post, that is).

The second thing that came to mind is what you alluded to @moriarty-sisters, about this being a near repeat of what we've seen a few times before (first at the NTAs in 2021, and then the group photo Georgia posted on Michael's birthday, that appears to have been taken after Michael went to see Macbeth):

Every time, Georgia is on the right. Every time, she and Anna have the same tight smiles while Michael and David have huge grins on their faces. At this point, it feels intentional, because twice might be a coincidence, but three times is a plan. There are slight differences to the vibes in each picture--although Georgia looks like she knows a secret and Michael and David look like a very happy couple in every one of them--but last night's group pic was...something.

Which takes me to your comment @phantomstars24 about how Michael is holding AL. I was under the impression that he had his hand on her waist, but if he is touching her breast, I'm perplexed at that being her reaction. She looks stiff and like a deer caught in the headlights, and regardless of where Michael's hand is, it doesn't seem like that's a great way to look when your own boyfriend is touching you. Adding to the strange optics is the fact that Michael is actually leaning toward David in the picture and away from her. It looks like his arm/shoulder is pressing into David and there isn't a millimeter of space between them, yet he seems to be a mile away from Anna despite having an arm around her.

(And none of this is even touching on Georgia using the theme song from Friends in the Insta story for the group pic, which she had to know we would all notice...)

So yes, a lot of thoughts on the group pic, but overall delighted to see Michael and David looking so happy next to each other. Especially Michael, in stark contrast to how he looked in some of the other pictures.

Speaking of which...I briefly talked about Michael and AL at the BAFTAs yesterday here and here, so I will try not to repeat myself too much in this part of my answer. But what I think we are seeing is two things: Anna's fantasy of what she thinks her and Michael's relationship is, and the reality of what we saw at the BAFTAs.

I think in AL's mind, she and Michael were like Georgia and David. But if we are going to say that Georgia and David were very loving and sweet together on the red carpet yesterday--which they absolutely were, with the kiss they shared and David comforting Georgia when she was experiencing anxiety--then there is no way you can look at the pictures of Michael and Anna and see the same thing. Even without bringing GT/DT into it, there is a massive, marked difference between pictures of Michael with AL vs. pictures of him with literally anyone else (such as this pic with Hannah Waddingham).

Looking at Anna's pictures that she posted, every one of them seems to be about ownership, right down to the Insta story with the #mine hashtag (which again seems to be her copying Georgia, also on the night of an award ceremony). The vibe that I got was of a teenager who'd won a date with her favorite celebrity and took him to the prom. Ultimately, though, she looked out of place, and he looked uncomfortable with her, both of which are a remarkable feat after five years of a relationship.

The pictures also repeated themes we've seen before (AL has previously posted a picture of her kissing Michael's cheek where he looks equally withdrawn; the photo in the car on the way to the event is a copy of pictures Georgia has posted of her and David in the car on the way to events) and speak to that idea of pushing a certain narrative, despite neither one of them appearing to sell it very well.

To that end, and to your comments @lepqueen and @turquoisedata, I would agree with you that it looks like AL is trying to mark her territory. The problem is that Michael had more chemistry just talking with David in that opening BAFTAs sketch than he did with Anna the entire night, and she was frequently left looking like she had no idea what she was doing or why she was there. Another example of this is an Insta story she posted earlier today that again demonstrated her main interest in the relationship:

What's particularly noteworthy is the follow up Insta story on the right, which I couldn't believe she actually posted. I think that if you are fine and happy with the narrative you've put out, you are not going to be bothered by or salty about a comment like that, and AL clearly was. And all of this then casts at least some doubt that the pictures she posted are really telling the whole story. Just a recap of what we do know about last night (and if I am forgetting anything, someone please let me know):

- Anna was the only principal member of the cast who was not in the Staged-themed opening sketch, despite being in all three seasons of the show. - Anna was not seated next to Michael during the in person part of the opening sketch, despite there being no reason the producers couldn't have put her next to him even as a seat filler. - Georgia brought her friend Daisy Aitkens as a +1 and sat with her instead of Anna, leaving us with the above picture of AL sitting alone and staring straight ahead while in the background of a Michael J. Fox picture (that she is acting like is a picture of her with him, instead of her photobombing a picture of MJF with his wife). - During the show, the camera repeatedly cut to Michael in the audience when there was no reason to do so, but did not show Anna on camera once.

So yes, I think that if last night at the BAFTAs was somehow AL's attempt to mark her territory/assert her place in the UK acting industry, it did not seem to go over well. I think David and Georgia's relationship and Michael and David's relationship emerged even stronger than before, and unfortunately AL and Michael's relationship did not and does not compare.

My apologies for rambling on, as I never intended for this to get so long. As I've said before, this is all just my opinion, and I know I could be completely wrong, so I'm glad as always to hear from my followers with your thoughts. Thanks for writing in! x

#abbbieangel #moriarty-sisters #phantomstars24 #lepqueen #amata-haan #reply post #michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #BAFTAs 2024 #i also think AL referring to Michael as 'my partner' instead of by name in that follow up Insta story was A Choice #if you have to keep reminding people that someone is your partner #that's probably not a good sign #and the more she tries to look like she owns him the more obvious it is she doesn't #because how in the world can you take a relationship like this seriously #but i will leave it to my followers to make up their own minds #anna lundberg #relationships #long post #ineffable lovers #discourse