#these look awful on mobile um..
Photo
PIXY
Wings (2021)
#pixy#pixynet#femaleidols#femadolsedit#femaleidolsedit#femaleidol#kgoddesses#m*#useroro#4brina#wabisarah#userfairy#eyestrain#hi tasha this is also for u <3#i sadly couldn't include choreo shots bc this is in 1080p..#but i hope u like it <3#LOVE U AND HBD <333#❤️❤️#these look awful on mobile um..
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Suletta and your pick of T-Dolls with a mechanic S/O who uses “percussive maintenance” to great effect.
Just….
BONK
and the machine is working fine.
(They also have a favorite wrench to perform this maintenance with)
(MSG: The Witch from Mercury/GFL) Suletta, Angelia, G36, and RPK-16's Mechanic S/O hitting things with a wrench to 'fix it'
(For Suletta, it'll just be platonic to feel more authentic to the show!)
Suletta watched (Y/N) repair Chuchu's Demi-Trainer without too much effort, simply calibrating it so that it would respond better.
(Chuchu) "Oi, Suletta, (Y/N)! How's the legs?"
(Suletta) "A-Ah, still working on the wiring, it'll be ready to move in a second!"
Suletta stared at the wiring and furrowed her brows, trying to find what exactly was causing the issue.
She had some knowledge on how Mobile Suits were repaired, but nothing to this extent. At least, anything that wasn't Aerial.
Aerial was at least helping with the repairs too a good chunk of the time.
(Y/N) scratched their chin as their finger tapped against the wrench, slowly lowering the lift back onto the hangar floors.
(Suletta) "You weren't able to find anything either? It should be working fine, but I haven't noticed anything."
(Y/N) "Nothing I could see with my eyes. But don't worry, Suletta, I know the perfect trick!"
(Chuchu) "Hey! If you put a dent onto my trainer, I'll be denting your skull!"
(Y/N) "Oh come on, you know it always works!"
(Suletta) "U-Um, what is she talking about?"
(Y/N) "Behold, my family technique, Suletta!"
Suletta opened her mouth in slight awe, ready to see what (Y/N) had up their sleeve.
Only for them to violently smack the foot of the Demi-Trainer, a loud clang echoing throughout all of Earth House.
Suletta leapt back in terror, stammering as she shook (Y/N).
(Suletta) "Y-Y-YOU JUST HIT HER MOBILE SUIT! WHY?!"
(Y/N) raised a finger and looked back at the cockpit.
(Y/N) "Chuchu?"
The leg of the Demi-Trainer moved without any issue.
(Chuchu) "...I resent that stupid trick works."
(Y/N) "Ah, but it still works, doesn't it?"
(Suletta) "...B-But how?"
(Angelia) "Console still not working?"
(Commander) "Yeah, won't turn on no matter what I tried. Plugging it back in and out, that sorta thing."
(Angelia) "Hm. Some budget they gave us. Well don't worry, I can call S/O."
(Commander) "Huh. I figured you'd call one of the T-Dolls for that."
(Angelia) "Nah, S/O's got this. Trust me."
S/O came into the briefing room with a single wrench, saluting both Angelia and the Commander.
(Angelia) "Computer's not turning on, mind fixing it for us?"
(S/O) "Got it, Ange."
S/O walked over to the computer's power, slowly raised their wrench before violently slamming the head onto the top of it.
The Commander flinched, but Angelia stood there, perfectly stonefaced.
And right on cue, the monitor turned back on.
(Angelia) "Thanks."
(S/O) "Anytime!"
S/O moved to give her a peck on the cheek before her own robotic hand hit their head, though the impact was not as violent.
(Angelia) "Not during work."
The Commander simply stood there, flabbergasted that damaging his system made it work.
(Commander) "...Whatever, as long as that doesn't break the damn thing and have Helian yell at me for it."
G36 scowl seems to not move as she stares at the coffee machine.
(Springfield) "Oh, right! I forgot to tell you, G36. The machine is broken right now, I had called for someone to come fix it. They should be arriving-"
(S/O) "Apologies for the delay, I was caught up in another repair...Oh, G36!"
G36 smiled at the sound of S/O's voice, stepping aside to make room.
(G36) "Ah, I think this is the first time we're both in the same area while we're on the clock."
(Springfield) "S/O, our coffee machine has decided to stop working since last night. Mind helping us?"
(S/O) "Sure thing, step back, love."
G36 nodded and made no acknowledgement of S/O's pet name since it was just her and Springfield in the room.
And S/O reached into the bag, pulled out a wrench and-
THUD!
S/O had smacked the side of it, which both T-Dolls heard a beep of acknowledgement, the machine ready to produce coffee once more.
(G36) "...S/O, that does not seem like it is an efficient way to repair things."
(S/O) "It works though, you should try it out too!"
(G36) "S/O, we would break the machine we are attempting to fix if I were to employ your methods."
16 had not called S/O to fix anything, instead she happened to come across them as she was strolling back to her dorm.
It was in the middle of the base hallways, finding S/O repairing a vending machine.
(RPK-16) Huh. When were these here, and why are there even vending machines to begin with? This is a military base, not a mall...-
She thought to herself.
But instead of saying anything to S/O, she decided to observe.
S/O was pressing a myriad of buttons to no avail, their frustration growing as they let out an exhale through their nose.
It amused 16 to watch S/O go about their business. So this is what they were like when she wasn't present.
She then watched them reach into a bag and smack a wrench straight into the middle of the vending machine.
And finally, it relinquished a singular can of soda that rolled out to the bottom.
S/O made a small fist bump, obviously proud of their accomplishment. They twirled their wrench onto their belt and walked off.
16 raised an eyebrow and pressed a button after they left, watching as the machine produced a drink without fail.
(RPK-16) "...So, humans resort to violence when something does not go their way? I suppose that's on track from the data I've gathered so far."
She let out a small giggle, thinking of how S/O looked during the process. This was quite interesting.
Doubly so since S/O was a mechanic and they knew that's not how you'd repair things normally.
(RPK-16) "Note to self, do not ask S/O to do repairs on me."
#gundam witch from mercury x reader#gundam witch from mercury headcanons#gundam witch from mercury imagines#girls' frontline imagines#girls' frontline headcanons#girls' frontline x reader#suletta mercury x reader#angelia x reader#g36 x reader#rpk 16 x reader#suletta mercury#angelia gfl#g36 gfl#rpk 16 gfl
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M'Mothm'n.
Here's the thing about the Mothman. Even though he scared the ever-living shit out of the people who saw him, the speculation around him has become, over the years, actually very kind. What if he's only here to help? What if he's trying to warn us about impending disaster? What if that horrible feeling you got that something wasn't right, what if that was the Mothman telling you to look out, be careful, danger is coming, doom is nigh?
It's one thing to be a harbinger of doom; there are apparitions of ghostly black dogs all over the world that will give you that, red eyes and all. It's another to have one who actually means well.
I'm going to be an Old Queer for a minute, now, and talk about gay politics in the USA as I watched it over the past thirty years. My experience is my own; my history is shared, but not universal. Sound off in a reblog if you saw it happen differently. I want your story, too.
There’s a certain line the right wing in this country likes to use against The Gays, one I’ve heard since I was a small child. It goes: queer people are threatening our way of life. Queer people are the pebbles that start the avalanche of apocalypse, the collapse of civilization as we know it. If marriage becomes something other than Man + Woman, or if Man and Woman become something other than we think they are, then we will lose everything we know and love.
The rise of the Respectable Gay in the 1990s was a pushback against this. “See,” cried Degeneres and Savage and all the rest, “see how we’re so very normal? We want to get married and buy a house and have 2.1 kids and a white picket fence. Our marriage doesn’t threaten yours. How could it? We’re just normal, ordinary, white, moderately wealthy, people. We're like you."
This move shifted the narrative across the 90s and 00s. Homosexuality was officially decriminalized in '03, and we got gay marriage in 2015, and every year in between there was another Influential Gay Person saying "I just want to get married, that's all." There were even commercials about it, remember? “Gay marriage is just like yours. Only gayer.”
But... in the mid-2010s this was already wearing thin. Transgender people, gender non-conforming people, gays who didn’t go in for two-person marriage, everyone in the greater LGBTQ+ umbrella who had thrown their support behind gay marriage and waited our turn to get our rights; we'd all been mobilizing, too. We'd been putting together our own coalitions, under the aegis of the greater umbrella or not. And, here's the crux: we were, in fact, threatening the right-wing Christian ways of life. Just by existing in public, by talking and writing and performing and living our lives during the Transgender Tipping Point, trans and non-binary people like me were challenging the foundational definitions of Man and Woman as exclusive, all-encompassing categories of humanity.
It wasn't just the right, either. Straight liberals who were totally on board with gay marriage would look at us and say, "um, wait, really? Really, like that? Do you have to?" The discomfort was palpable. This was my experience with my own family; they were fine with me dating and getting married, but a new set of pronouns was forcing something on them. It was hurting something intrinsic to their identities. It was, in a very real way, threatening them.
I'm happy and grateful to say that most of them learned to discard the parts of their own foundations that excluded me from existence. This is rarely easy for anyone. I'm honestly proud of those members of my family who have learned to look the Mothman in the eyes, so to speak, and think, "He's just here to help."
("Pop your hood up," I told this model, "and look at them. They should see their impending death in your eyes."
Layton is an incredible model, a great human, and they know and love the Mothman. They knew exactly what I meant.)
It can be awful, sometimes. When I'm unapologetically myself in public, I can walk past a line of protesters at Planned Parenthood and see the hostility rise up, the anger and revulsion and fear. And I do think it is fear, at the core of it. I think something in them knows that I'm just one of 2.6 million transgender people out here, living my life, casually being a harbinger of their doom.
Next time they come to Brattleboro, I ought to greet them with red glasses and a twelve-foot wingspan.
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Ere the Sun Rises
Ace Omens Hugfest prompt - "a morning hug"
When Crowley snapped awake for the fifth time, gasping and drenched in sweat, he immediately rolled over and grabbed his mobile. He flipped it up, then mashed the home button when the screen decided not to light up.
1:10 am.
“Crowley?” A hand landed on his arm, and he yelped. “Easy, easy. It’s only me. It’s Aziraphale.”
“Hi.” Shivering, Crowley squeezed his eyes shut. He took a few deep breaths, calming himself, and then flopped back to the pillow with his mobile still clutched in one hand. “So. How about that morning, eh?”
“Morning?” The soft sound of a closing book, and Aziraphale moved closer. He slid his hand under Crowley’s, lifting it, and kissed his knuckles. “Is it already? It’s so dark out.”
Crowley held up his mobile without comment. This time, the screen decided to light up.
Aziraphale was silent for a moment. “Um. I don’t think that technically counts as morning, Crowley.”
“It’s after midnight. That makes it morning, by my book.” Hissing, Crowley flung his mobile back to the bedside table and rubbed his eyes. They were crusted with dried tears. “I’ve had it. I’m done. No more sleep for me, at least for now.”
Slowly, Aziraphale laid down beside him and fussed with the blankets. “You do seem to be having an awful lot of nightmares.”
“Could say that.” A few more tears rose, and Crowley quickly rubbed his eyes. He might not remember crying, but he’d apparently already done plenty of it. “It’s nothing huge. Just, y’know. Humans coming after us, demons coming after us, Archangels coming after us, that sort of thing.”
Mostly, though, it was the thing he never talked about if he could help it. All of today’s nightmares involved humans and demons and angels coming after them, and destroying Aziraphale. And then Crowley running around, screaming for his angel, unable to find him.
Aziraphale gave him a worried look, and Crowley quickly looked away. “Um. That sounds rather ‘huge’, in truth, even though I know it’s not exactly abnormal for you.”
That was an understatement. He still had nightmares almost every time he slept, although they were usually loads less horrible than this. Usually, they were just mildly disruptive of his sleep instead of shattering it.
“It’s not terrific,” Crowley finally admitted. “And I’m definitely not going back to sleep. So. What grand adventures shall we have today?”
He tried to say it sarcastically, but his voice cracked. And there were those damn tears again, threatening to break free.
Aziraphale gave a little sympathetic pout. “I think we ought to start with the grand adventure of having a lovely hug. Is that okay?”
“Gosh, yes.” Managing a faint smile, Crowley curled towards him. “S’ always a good way to start the morning.”
This time, Aziraphale didn’t challenge him about the definition of morning. He curled a hand around the back of Crowley’s neck and drew him closer, cradling him to a warm, reassuring chest. “There, now. Everything’s okay.”
Everything very much did not feel okay, even here, but Crowley found himself breathing a little easier. He closed his eyes again, sinking into Aziraphale’s warmth, into the endless field of love that hummed through the cottage at all times. Sometimes, he thought he could stay right here forever.
At the moment, he was tempted to try to stay right here forever. Normally, he didn’t like to be held for too long, feeling trapped. It was different after nightmares. He didn’t pull away, even when Aziraphale’s arms loosened and a kiss brushed to his head.
“My dear?” Aziraphale murmured after a few minutes of him not making a break for it. “Are you okay? Did you fall back asleep?”
“Nuh, not back asleep. Just… comfortable.” Which was a novel feeling, after the panic of thinking he’d lost his angel again. “I love you so damn much. You know that?”
“I do know that.” With a soft hum, Aziraphale nuzzled into his hair. “And I love you dearly, as well. Please tell me if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“Nnnnh.” Even now, after all these years, Crowley hated asking for help. “Maybe… can we just stay here a while longer? I know it’s morning, but the sun’s not up yet. Won’t be up for a while, so I can’t go out to garden or anything.”
Aziraphale chuckled. “You can see in the dark.”
“Yeah, but I don’t think the plants would appreciate being woken up this early. And it’s cold.”
With another chuckle, Aziraphale slid one hand down and rubbed Crowley’s back in slow, careful circles. Then, with the same care, he pulled the blanket back up. “It is indeed a touch nippy. Therefore, I think it would be perfectly acceptable to stay right here until sunrise.”
“Mm.” Crowley wasn’t quite sure if he was that patient. That was hours away, and he wasn’t very good at remaining still for hours. But even a shorter time in Aziraphale’s arms would soothe him and chase away the lingering chill of his dreams. “Definitely a grand morning adventure.”
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Haruno Sakura is a timid girl in senior high school. She and Uchiha Sasuke, a popular student, are schoolmates and neighbors. They live in a high-rise condominium and their units are beside each other. They both keep their balcony doors open to get good signal for their mobile phones. Sakura always hears music from Sasuke's unit and figures that he loves listening to music very much.
Sakura: Ah, he's listening to Hisaishi.. That means he's studying.
At first, Sakura had no idea about his music preference especially because she didn't know what he's listening to. She learned how to google the tunes to know their titles. She took note of every single song in his playlists and recreated them for herself.
She learned that he listens to any instrumental song when he's studying. He listens to alternative rock when he works out. He likes reggae or bossa nova when he's cooking or eating.
Ino: *sings loudly*
Sakura: *whispers* Ino, lower your voice..
Ino: Why? We're alone anyway.
Sakura: S-Sasuke-kun is studying.
Ino: How did you know? Are you two talking now?
Sakura: No.. He's— He's listening to Irlandaise.. I'm sure he's studying.
Ino: Irlandaise?
Sakura: Yeah.. You see, when he listens to classics, he's most likely studying.. So, please let's try to be quiet.
Ino: Or maybe let's just close your balcony door?
Sakura: B-But I want to hear his music.
Ino: Ah, you still like him. I thought you've moved on from middle school!
Sakura: Ino, quiet!!
Ino: *laughs* Tell me, did you move here because of him?
Sakura: No!! I came here first.. I was also surprised that he lives next door.
Ino: Have you ever talked to him?
Sakura: Yeah.. Whenever we see each other.. But the first time he taled to me was when he asked if he could keep his door open when he plays music.
Ino: Oh, speaking of music.. It stopped..
Sakura: *whispers* He's changing his playlist..
Ino: What does that mean?
Sakura: *hears another song* That means he's done studying.. He's chilling now..
Ino: Wow! You really know him just by listening to his playlist!
Sakura: Yeah!
Ino: Anyway, I have to go Sakura! It's getting late. See you at school!
Sakura: Okay! I'll just fix my shelf to kill time.
Ino: Bye! *gathers her things and leaves*
Sakura: *organizes the books that she has read* Hmm. They take up so much space here. I must put them somwehere else. *uses the stool to get the box from the top shelf; slips and falls* Aw! Aw!
Sasuke: *hears screaming; rushes to Sakura's unit and knocks* Haruno-san! Haruno-san! *opens the door and sees her on the floor*
Sakura: Uchiha-san—
Sasuke: Sorry, your door is not locked so I went in.. Are you okay? *helps her*
Sakura: Y-Yeah.. My friend probably forgot to lock the door..
Sasuke: I see.. *hears the music from his unit* I'm sorry! I— I didn't know it's that loud.
Sakura: It's okay.. *almost whispering* I like your music..
Sasuke: No.. That's so insensitive of me..
Sakura: I told you, it's okay. *smiles*
Sasuke: How about this.. You send me your playlist then I'll play that for an entire week.
Sakura: A-Are you sure?
Sasuke: Yeah.. Let's blast your music next time.
Sakura: Okay.. Let me send it to you later..
Sasuke: Your phone?
Sakura: Hm?
Sasuke: I'll write my number.
Sakura: *panics because she has his number already* Um, I— my phone—
Sasuke: Is it charging?
Sakura: Y-Yes!
Sasuke: I'll add you on chat then.. I'll go back now.. See you around! Looking forward to the playlist. *leaves*
Sakura: Yeah. *blushes*
---
Sakura carefully curates a playlist for Sasuke and sends the link to him. She's nervous and excited.
Sakura: It's just a playlist, Sakura. Why are you so giddy and scared?
She waits for him to play the songs from the playlist but all she hears is random tunes.
Sakura: Didn't he like the playlist that I made? Why is he not playing it?
They bump into each other at school multiple times. They talk about random topics but never about the playlist that she made. It makes her wonder but she brushes it off because they talk about various subjects anyway.
One time, she sees him at the elevator..
Sasuke: Hey, Haruno-san!
Sakura: *bows* Uchiha-san.. I haven't asked you.. D-Did you like the playlist that I made?
Sasuke: Yeah. There are some songs that I like..
Sakura: /thinks/ So there are songs that he doesn't like..
Sasuke: Do you hear it in your unit? I play it before I go to sleep, like what you suggested.
Sakura: *confused* B-But I haven't heard it ever since I gave the playlist to you..
Sasuke: Hm? *checks the link*
Sakura: *checks the link*
Sasuke: *realizes it's on shuffle*
Sakura: *realizes it's the wrong playlist*
Sasuke: *blushes* S-So.. I should've not played it on shuffle?
Sakura: *flushed* N-No! I mean, it's wrong— I'll explain, Sasuke-kun— I mean Uchiha-san—
Sasuke: *checks the playlist again; blushes* LOML.. I— I didn't know, Sakura..
Sakura: *cold sweats* U-Uchiha-san.. Um..
Sasuke: *reads the song titles from beginning to end*
Sakura: *runs to her unit as soon as the elevator door opens*
Sasuke: *yells* Haruno-san!!
---
Sakura: You're so dumb, Sakura. Why would you send him that??
Sasuke: Haruno-san—
Sakura: W-What are you doing here? How did you—
Sasuke: You forgot to lock the door.. Haruno-san..
Sakura: It's— It's the wrong playlist, Uchiha-san.. It's not the playlist that I created for you—
Sasuke: But it says Uchiha Sasuke I love—
Sakura: *covers his mouth* Y-Yes.. It's for you too but you were not supposed to see that—
Sasuke: S-So, do you like me?
Sakura: Uchiha-san.. I'll send you the correct playlist, okay? May I ask you to leave? I'm just— I—
Sasuke: Okay.. Calm down.. I'll go.. Sorry.. *leaves*
---
Sakura sends a chat..
Here's the correct playlist [title: For sleepyhead], Uchiha-san. I hope you like it.
Sasuke plays the 1st song..
I like it, Haruno-san. Thanks! Give this song a listen too. :)
This is beautiful, Uchiha-san! Thank you.. Sorry if I acted rudely earlier.. I was just very embarrassed.
Sasuke reads the message and sends another song..
This one is a bit old but I guess it sums up everything that I wanted to ask you earlier.
I was surprised.. Pleasantly surprised..
Uchiha-san..
Sasuke blasts his speakers:
Sakura: *blushes while listening to the song*
Sasuke: Sakura!
Sakura: Y-You're here?
Sasuke: You didn't lock the door. Again.
Sakura: *laughs*
Sasuke: It's not a song for romantic dancing but.. May I? *offers his hand*
Sakura: *takes it and they dance slowly*
Sasuke: I know we're probably going a bit too fast but—
Sakura: It's hard for me to open up b-but Sasuke-kun, can I tell my feelings through songs?
Sasuke: Of course.. *smiles* I'll do the same..
Sakura: Okay.. *smiles*
Ino: *enters* Oh— Sorry, you didn't lock the door.
Sakura: *laughs*
Sasuke: *laughs*
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Chapter Eleven
It’s the only morning of the whole summer that I sleep in. I wake up in the late morning with the sunlight streaming in through the window which is still wide open. The curtains are pulled aside so that anybody passing the mobile home could have looked in and gotten a great view of me fast asleep. I rub my eyes and the heels of my hands come away black and glittery from Kelly’s makeup that I never removed. I groan and think about how awful I probably look. I’m still in all my clothes too, shorts and a t-shirt stuck to my body with sweat and I have the almost irresistible urge to rip every thread from my body and free myself.
There’s a gentle knock on the door and Claire pokes her head around it before I have the chance to remove even an earring.
“Good morning sleepy head.” She says softly. “I was wondering when you’d wake up, it’s not like you to sleep for ages like this.”
“Ugh, I know, I feel disgusting. How do I look?”
“Well, you’ve looked better.” She says diplomatically and comes over to perch on the end of my bed. When I sit up in it I realise that Jude’s hoodie, which I presumably wriggled out of at some point during the night, is splayed out on top of the duvet, bright red and unambiguous, and I steel myself to explain to Claire what it’s doing there, but somehow she fails to notice it. “I had to come in and talk to you.” She says wide eyed and anxiously. “Because I got a funny text last night from Shane.”
“Oh?” I say, feigning ignorance as I slowly reach for the hoodie and pull it under the covers with me.
“Yeah, it came in when I was watching TV with Kelly and I had to pretend that it was nothing, but-”
We are interrupted by another knock on the door. “You finally awake?” Kelly comes into the room with us and I glance at Claire to see her lips knitted shut.
“Jesus, you look rough.” Kelly says and sits on the other bed. I self consciously wipe my fingers under my eyes, more black smudges coming away on my knuckles and I wonder how much really is smeared all over my face. I check the pillows quickly and see some of it there too. “I know, I was too tired to wash my face last night.”
“Or change your clothes, I see.” She plucks the ballet pumps she loaned me from the floor and examines them and I worry about what she’ll find. Grass stains? Dirt? Oil from the bike chains? Last night is coming back to me now in exhilarating bursts, the graveyard, the stained glass window and Jude’s laughter vibrating through me as I clung to him on the bicycle. Luckily if Kelly spots anything on the shoes, she doesn’t mention it. She tosses them back onto the floor unceremoniously.
“So you must have had a good night if you were out so late, we didn’t hear you come back in.”
“Yeah it was really fun. We got fish and chips and just hung out, I suppose it got late without us even noticing.”
“And did he ask you?”
“Hm?”
“Liam.”
“Um?”
“Did Liam ask you to his debs?”
My conversation with Liam somehow seems like weeks ago now. “Oh, no, he didn’t. It just didn’t come up I suppose.” I don’t know why I’m lying to her, I just don’t feel ready to talk about it. The whole night feels like something private, like a secret that only I’m allowed to know about.
“Ugh!” Kelly rolls her eyes. “What’s wrong with him? I know he likes you, I don’t know why he wouldn’t just ask, after being with you for hours and all. Boys are just stupid, that’s all there is to it.”
I nod solemnly.
“I can go down to the beach today and tell him to ask you if you want.”
“No!” I blurt out. “No don’t, I wouldn’t want anybody to do that, he’d be embarrassed.”
“He should be embarrassed. No, don’t worry, I’ll sort him out.”
“No really-”
“It’ll be so fun to go dress shopping together though.” She carries on. “We’ll go into town and get everything together. And since you’re going Claire and I might as well find dates too, we’ll all go together.”
“Ooh, yes, I really want to go to a debs.” Claire chimes in. “I’ve always pictured myself wearing like, light blue.”
“Yeah and like, that way Evie won’t be alone at it, we’ll go as a team. I’ll just find us two random boys from Liam’s year and get them to ask us.”
“Guys, seriously.” I protest. “I don’t even know if I want to go.”
“Ah you do though, you’re just nervous about it.” Kelly informs me, and Claire nods: “If we’re all together it’ll be so good.”
“Don’t make this a thing.” I plead. “ It’s not nerves, I just don’t want to go with Liam.”
Kelly frowns. “What? Why not?”
“I just don’t think I really… fully like him all the way.”
“But it seemed like you did at the barbeque last week.”
When I cast my mind back to that event it feels impossible for me to reconcile the way I was thinking back then to the way I am thinking now, it’s like night and day, and I know that I can’t possibly find a way to explain this to my friends in a way that doesn’t sound convoluted, so I just say: “Well, I do like him. He’s a really nice person, but I don’t think I like him enough to go to his debs with him, I just don’t really think that it’s that kind of thing.”
“What kind of thing is it then?”
“Not a romantic thing, maybe” saying it out loud like this, as sheepish as I sound, I know that I’m being honest with them and with myself. It’s true, I don’t lose sleep over Liam, and being in his presence doesn’t give me that giddy, breath-stealing kind of happiness. In fact, when I’m not around him he hardly crosses my mind at all.
Kelly sighs and rolls her eyes, and I know that she’s thinking about how she’ll have to go back to the drawing board now and find someone else for me, and I feel frustrated with her. I don’t want to be her project anymore, I don’t want to be pitied for being a seventeen year old virgin, as if that’s something I need to be ashamed of simply because she and Claire aren’t. I ball up my fists in the hoodie under my duvet and glare at her defiantly. “Well don’t worry about it, Kells, I already like somebody else.”
Claire snaps to look at me in surprise. “Who?”
“Jude.” I say boldly, and she beams excitedly. “Oh, him! He’s very good looking, isn’t he?”
“He is” I feel myself start to blush.
“You know, when I saw him first I thought he’s a bit like a young Johnny Depp.”
“Oh you think so?”
“Yeah, it’s the cheekbones I think."
“Okay, but that’s not very realistic is it?” Kelly juts in, and when I look over at her she looks truly annoyed; brows knitted together and eyes narrowed, arms crossed over her chest as though she’s just heard me say the stupidest thing ever uttered. Her whole entity is pulled taut like a wire.
“Why is it not realistic?” Claire asks her. “I could see it happening if I’m honest.”
“The two of them are on different ends of the spectrum and he would end up ruining her life.”
“That sounds a bit dramatic.” I say timidly.
“It just won’t happen, I don’t know what got this idea into your head, he’s older and lives in a different world to you and would want different things from you. If you ended up going out with him he’d want you to do things that you’re not ready for.”
“Like what though?”
“Sex stuff, obviously.” She rolls her eyes. “He’d expect that from you, like, straight away and he’d also expect you to be good at it. I’m just being honest, Evie, that’s just a fact, he has loads and loads of experience with loads of different girls so there’d be pressure on you and I don’t want you getting all messed up from it.”
Claire is listening with wide eyes, and she looks at me nodding. “Oh I suppose that could be true, if he’s experienced like that… those boys are always the pushiest.”
“Like, honestly I’m trying to protect you here. If I were you I wouldn’t go near him. I wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole. I’m pretty sure he has a girlfriend and apart from all that he’s moving to Berlin soon, so it’s not worth the hassle.”
“He broke up with his girlfriend, he told me.”
“Yeah well he’s still moving to Berlin. And he’s still a little slut”
I don’t say anything then, because I feel stupid for having mentioned him in the first place, and stupid for even admitting to having a crush on him – to them and to myself. He’s like something distant and unreachable to me, still raw from a breakup only weeks ago and leaving the country by the end of the summer, an older, funnier, smarter, more experienced boy. I don’t know what I was thinking, I’m surprised he even speaks to me. My shoulders slump and I have a pit in my stomach. “Okay I get it.” I say. “He’d never fancy me anyway, so we don’t have to talk about it any more.”
“It’s not that he’d never fancy you.” Claire says sympathetically. “It’s just that maybe it’s not worth the heartache.”
“Yeah I was just trying to be a good friend.” Kelly says. “Sorry if you’re upset.”
I sigh. “Okay, well can you let me get dressed now please? I feel like shit.”
I know that they’ve exchanged glances, because the horrible tension I’ve created with my words is palpable, but I don’t care. I just stare down at the blankets in my lap until they both get up and leave my room. I want to grab a hardcover book and chuck it at the door, but I don’t want to act more childish than I’ve already been made to feel. I just climb out of bed and whip the curtains shut and throw off my sweaty clothes, and then with a baby wipe from the top drawer of the bedside table I rub viciously at my cheeks and the skin under my eyes, wishing that I could erase my whole being with it. I wipe my face until it stings and it’s clean enough and I toss the wipe, stained black and beige with last night’s makeup onto the pile of books at the bedside.
The glass of water I brought in from the kitchen is still there, I notice. The one Jude was supposedly so thirsty for when he came in. Untouched and left filled completely to the top. He hasn’t even taken a sip from it.
Prev // Next
#sims#sims 4#ts4#simlit#sims 4 story#writing#sims story#fiction#romance#sims 4 storytelling#sims storytelling#sims4 storytelling#lucky girl part 1
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The Tutor Part 2 (Snzfic, Original Characters)
Part 1
It has been entirely too long since I promised to write a second part of this story, but that's often how it goes for me when I'm writing snzfics unfortunately.
Anyway, you can follow the link above to read the first part of this tale, but as a general reminder this takes place in the 1770s and features two of my OCs- Kit (Christopher) Annesley and Eleanor Seton. Kit is a tutor for Eleanor's younger cousins, and she lives with a wealthier branch of her family after her parents passed away.
And as an additional addition, my laptop has broken and I haven't gotten it fixed yet, so I'm posting this from my phone. Please let me know if there's any formatting weirdness, I know Tumblr mobile can be difficult.
I think that's all... enjoy!
If he had thought he could make it through the day with only minimal discomfort, Kit was proven decisively wrong by midday. As his pupils sat down to eat their meals, he ducked out into the hall where he could tend to his nose in relative privacy.
Sitting on a window seat with a heavy sigh, Kit took a handkerchief from his pocket (Eleanor's, he was reminded yet again by the embroidered border) and pressed it to his already much-abused nostrils. Over the course of the morning his efforts to hold back his need to sneeze had caused the congestion in his head to build until he had a pounding headache and wished for nothing more than to be able to curl up in bed and sleep off what was proving to be a monstrous head cold.
Giving his nose a quick blow did little to make him feel better, although it did rekindle a tickle which had him sneezing into his elbow rather forcefully. Thank goodness he was alone- he wouldn't want to disturb anyone with his sneezes, and he could feel more brewing behind his eyes.
"Mr. Annesley?"
Kit's head shot up at the sound of Eleanor's voice, his cheeks rapidly darkening as he saw she was standing in front of him. He'd been so preoccupied that he hadn't noticed her draw near, and now he was at a loss for what to do or say.
"Miss Seton!" he managed to squeak out. "I, um, that is..."
"I don't mean to offend, but you look awful," Eleanor interrupted. "Surely you don't still believe yourself to be fit to teach?"
Kit, more than a little taken aback at the forcefulness of her statement, briefly contemplated lying and claiming he was alright. However, the pulsing ache in his head and sinuses reminded him that not only was he decidedly not alright, there was also very little chance he could convince Eleanor that he was.
"I admit, I have been contemplating setting the boys to study on their own for the afternoon," he conceded. "My cold does seem to have worsened slightly."
"More than slightly, I would say, but it hardly matters now. Please, tell me if there is anything I might do to assist you."
Kit's cheeks now felt as though they were on fire, and as he doubted he had developed a fever in the last two minutes it was no doubt due to embarrassment. He hoped Eleanor hadn't noticed, though it was difficult to tell from the sympathetic look she was giving him. It could've meant anything.
"I would not wish to trouble you, as I am quite sure you have more important things to attend to. However..."
Eleanor raised one eyebrow as Kit's voice trailed off. "Yes?"
"E-excuse... m-ihh..." he held up one finger as his nostrils flared, the need to sneeze halting any further attempts at speaking.
"Hih-ish'uh! Hihh... heh'zschew! Heh-esch'uh!Huh..." Kit took a deep breath, trying to steady his breathing as his nose threatened to send him into a dizzying fit of sneezes once again. God, but he wished he could climb into bed and never emerge again.
"God bless you, Mr. Annesley." Eleanor's voice was soft, her eyes holding an emotion Kit couldn't quite place. Not pity, not sympathy, and concern wasn't quite right either. Perhaps a mixture of all three? Or something else entirely?
The feeling of a soft, cool palm pressed against his forehead startled Kit out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see that Eleanor had pressed her hand to his forehead. Now at a complete loss for what to do, he sat very still, and when she removed her hand after another moment he immediately wished she hadn't.
"You don't feel feverish to me, thankfully."
"Indeed, I, ah, I thought as much."
"What is it you wished to ask of me before we were so rudely interrupted by your nose?" Eleanor asked, a touch of humor in her tone.
"Oh! Well... perhaps I might prevail upon you to check in on your young cousins this afternoon? They are quite capable of working on their own, but I fear they will see my absence as an invitation to be rowdy."
"Certainly, I would be glad too. I know only too well what they can be like." Eleanor grinned at him. Kit smiled back sheepishly.
"I thank you, Miss Seton, truly. I shall have to repay your many kindnesses as soon as I am able."
"As I fear I am growing tired of saying, it is no trouble at all, sir. Now-"
"Ehschiew!" Kit interrupted her as he bent into the handkerchief with a sudden sneeze, more forceful than any that had come before. He blinked, having startled himself.
Eleanor chuckled. "To bed with you, Mr. Annesley. I believe your nose agrees with me."
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~Raising Allison~
Chapter 1
Rating: T/M
Word count: 1,223
No one would ever think about it. The Radio demon married? Impossible! That poor woman, being married to a beast. Of course, at this point, everyone is used to that. But soon, the demons - hellborn and sinners alike - were thinking of the news that had come up. The Radio demon and his wife were having a child.
-
“Oooh, what a cute little doohickey! What um, what is it??” the pale demon asked. She held a small red pacifier in her hands. “It’s a pacifier! It's for the lil baby!” Charlie smiled. “I guess they looked different when you and Al were alive though, heh. But Vaggie and I thought it'd be nice to give you something other than a onesie!” The radio demon put a hand on his wife's shoulder and looked at the pacifier, his causal smile sprawled across his face. “Angelica, mon cher, I have another surprise for you!” he spoke. Angelica chuckled at her husband. “Al, how many surprises do you plan to have for me?” she asked. She loved her husband was so dotting. After all, she was at this point 6 months pregnant. At any moment, the little fawn could arrive. Alastor wanted to make sure his wife was as comfortable as can be before the fawn came. He held his hand out for his wife to take and she happily did. He led her to a room in the house that they had planned to make the nursery, however, this time seeing it was different. It was done. The wallpaper was a dusty red with the dark clouds, capturing the outside of hell, the black crib set up in the corner, the boney mobile from Rosie adoring the crib, the changing station all set up, and a few plushies in and under the crib. Angelica felt tears well up in her eyes, her mouth open in awe. The Radio demon noticed his wife and his heart sank a bit. He didn't mean to upset her. Was she upset? Did she like it? “My dear, I didn't mean to make you upse-” “I love it…” That's all Alastor needed to hear. The smile on his face became a more soft and loving smile. His wife wiped her tears and smiled. “This is the best surprise out of all the ones you've given me, dear. I believe she'll love it as well,” the pale demon sniffled. Alastor chuckled and spoke, “Well, he better! Everyone worked hard on this!” Angelica playfully rolled her eyes at her husband's words. She then placed a hand on her swollen belly, as if to softly protect her unborn child. You're gonna love it here, ma petite faon, she thought.
-May 21st
The radio demon was sat in the chair outside of the room his wife was giving birth in, his leg thumping up and down at a fast pace, his smile twisted in an anxious one. His shadow was attempting to comfort him. The other staff and 1st resident of the hotel came running in. “Where is she?! Is she okay?!” Charlie exclaimed. Vaggie put her hand on her fiancee's shoulder. “Hun, we're in a hospital! Don't shout!” she softly told her. Angel, Husk and Nifty looked at Alastor. “Anything yet?” Angel asked. Alastor shook his head, soft static being heard from him. Husk sat down next to Alastor and sighed. “So you're gonna be a dad. Bet you're scared huh?” Husk softly asked. Alastor thought and realized he was scared. More than that. He was terrified. He had no clue how to father a living creature, hellborn or not. His own father was an abusive piece of shit so he had no father figures in his life. He had no fucking clue. Then, the group heard cries of an infant from the room. His infant. Angelica's infant. The baby was finally here. Alastor's ears perked up at the sound and the cart crib taking the infant to a place to get her cleaned up. The doctor walked out and smiled at the Radio demon. “Congratulations, radio demon sir,” he said. Charlie asked, “Can she have visitors yet?” The doctor chuckled and said, “Your majesty, she just gave birth. She'll need rest before anyone else visits her, besides the father.” The group nodded, Charlie being the saddest one. The doctor looked at the radio demon. “Do you wish to see your wi-” Alastor didn't let the doctor finish before he walked into the room. He saw his wife laying in the bed, face soaked in sweat, hair a damp mess, panting softly. Even in this state, she was the most beautiful demon ever to Alastor. His wife looked at Alastor and smiled. “Hey, you,” she weakly spoke. Alastor sat next to his wife and grabbed her hand. “My darling, I’m sos sorry I couldn't be in here with you,” he apologized. His wife spoke, putting her other hand on his. “You don't have to apologize, my love. It's alright. At least you're actually here,” she spoke softly. Alastor pressed his forehead against his wife's, not caring for the sweat. A few moments later, the midwife and nurses came back with the bundle of joy, all nice and cleaned up. Angelica sat up, both her and her husband getting to see what their child truly looks like. The nurse smiled and handed their child to Angelica. Angelica felt tears roll down her face as she smiled. “Hi, baby. It's mama!” she softly spoke, sniffling slightly. “And rest beside me is your papa! We're so happy to finally meet you!” Alastor looked at his wife and to the little bundle in her arms. Angelica looked at her husband and smiled. “Wanna hold her?” she asked. Alastor shakily held out his arms as he spoke, “Of course.” And for sure, right then ans there, Alastor felt he had truly found love. He held the baby girl in his arms, looking at her coco skin, small tufts of light lavender hair, her small deer ears on top her head. He felt his smile drop slightly, taking in the beauty he held in his arms. He didn't realize it, but he had a few tears rolling down his face. She was perfect. She was tiny. She was his daughter. “Hello, mon fille… Bienvenue au monde,” he spoke, smile coming back as he held his fawn. Angelica couldn't help but smile at the sweet sight.
-
“She's so small!!” Charlie whispered. Nifty saw the baby and it was as if her eyes sparkled. “She's so clean too!” she spoke. Husk rolled his eyes and Angel looked at the little creature Angelica held. “Sooo, this is it? This is the lil monsta that caused ya so much pain??” Angel asked. Angelica lightly glared at Angel for that comment. Vaggie elbowed Husk’s boyfriend in the arm. He cursed at the fallen exterminator. “So have you two thought of a name yet?” Vaggie asked the two. Alastor thought for a moment before saying, “Allison. We shall name her Allison.” Everyone looked at him. “Why Allison dear?” his wife asked. Alastor smiled and said, “Well, it means ‘noble’ for one.” His smile turned into a slight sad one as he added, “It was also my mother's name.” Angelica smiled. “Alright. Allison it is then.” Alastor smiled at his daughter. Allison Alma Altruist.
#hazbin hotel#alastor x oc#alastor hazbin hotel#original character#hazbin oc#fanfic#wholesome#fluff#Hazbin fluff
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Unlucky: (Eventual) Steve Harrington x Fem!Subject!Reader
Chapter Eight: The First Day
Plot: It’s Tini’s first day at Hawkins High and things go far less than how she hoped.
Series Masterlist
Warnings: language, bullying, high school trauma, no use of y/n
Word Count: 3.3k
A/N: I hate writing high school because I don’t think anyone had a normal experience. Everyone I’ve ever met has had some awful shit happen to them in those four years. And yet it’s supposed to be the best time of our life? Nooo thank you lol. Anyways, hope you enjoy. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged :) (apologies also if the keep reading thing doesn’t come up, I’m posting from mobile 😬)
————————
JANUARY 6TH, 1984
Hawkins High School.
My new home.
“Okay,” Hopper’s voice broke through the white noise in my brain, “You got your books?”
Numbly, I answered, “Yeah.”
“Lunch money?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“You hearing anything I’m saying?”
My eyes followed a group of kids walking through the school’s front doors, “They’re in my backpack.”
He laughed deeply and tapped my hand, “Hey.”
The physical contact finally broke my focus, I looked over to see his reassuring smile. “It’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna go to your classes, you’re gonna stick with Nancy or Jonathan, you’re gonna eat the shitty food in the cafeteria-“
I laughed, Jonathan had told me horror stories about the lunches served.
“And then I’m gonna pick you up and you’ll tell me if you think you ate chicken or fish.”
“That’s…oddly helpful,” I grinned before becoming more serious, “Thank you for all this. Getting me enrolled…”
Hopper shook his head, “Nothing to thank me for. Just go in there, do your best and…enjoy it. You’ve been waiting a long time.”
That was an understatement. I inhaled deeply, grabbed my backpack from the backseat and slid out of the truck. Once my feet hit the pavement, it felt real. There was no going back now…
I wandered towards the building, looking for Nancy or Jonathan or Steve, but couldn’t spot them. What I could tell was that people were already looking at me. Aside from the three people I knew, everyone else was a stranger. But they certainly knew me. Then again, pulling up in the Hawkins Police Department truck was sort of a giveaway.
I followed the general crowd into the school, finding chaos as soon as I stepped foot inside. Dozens of conversations overlapped on either side of me, people ran through carrying different creations and structures, I had to duck just to avoid getting hit in the head with a basketball. Reaching into my backpack, I pulled out the wrinkled sheet of paper that was my class schedule.
Math - Miss Tanner, Room 104.
Nancy had told me we had three classes together, one of them math, which comforted me. I found my way down another hall, one with lockers down each side, and tried to see if there were signs that could tell me where to go. No luck. But I made a mental note to remember to come back later and find my locker.
Finally, I gave up on trying to find my own way around when a shrieking bell rang. “Excuse me,” I tapped the closest girl on the shoulder, “Hi. Um, I’m new here and I can’t seem to find my first class. D-do you know where this is?”
The girl studied my paper before smiling back up at me, “Oh, Miss Tanner’s not in 104. Must be a typo. You want 108. Take a right down the next hall, then another right and it’s the first door on your left.”
“Two rights, first door on my left,” I repeated, “Thank you.”
“No problem,” she gave a toothy grin before sharing a laugh with the boy next to her.
The halls cleared out surprisingly fast. Hopper had told me that as soon as the bell rang, I needed to be wherever it was I was trying to get to. I hurried down the first hall, struggling to keep my backpack balanced on one shoulder. I nearly ran into another student as I curved down the next hall, grabbing the door to Room 108 before it shut.
Clearly I had arrived just as the teacher, who was certainly not Miss Tanner…or a woman at all, had begun his lesson. The class and him looked at me as if I’d just interrupted something terribly important.
“Uh…I’m sorry, is this…” my eyes scanned the room, “Miss Tanner’s class?”
“Well, what with the lack of equations on my board and the small fact that I am not a woman,” the male teacher said, a few of the students laughing under their breath, “I think we can conclude, my dear, that this is not Miss Tanner’s class.”
I felt like my breath was caught in my chest, not five minutes inside the building and I was already making a fool out of myself. The only person who didn’t seem to be getting a kick out of my mistake was Steve, seated in the back row, who gave a small smile. I counted myself lucky, a little over a month ago, I wouldn’t have been shown mercy from him.
“Miss Tanner’s class is four doors down,” the teacher finished before turning back to his board, “Now, class…”
With at least half of the eyes in the room off of me, I felt like I could move again. I slipped back out the door, looking back as it closed to Steve nodding to encourage me. I hurried back down the hall and took the time to actually read the number on the plaque outside the door. 104.
This time when I entered the room, I knew I was in the right place and was greeted far differently.
“Miss Hopper, it’s lovely to finally see you,” Miss Tanner greeted, still aware of my lateness but not making a big deal over it. She took my wrist and led me to the front of the room. “Class, I’d like you to meet our newest addition. Go ahead and introduce yourself…”
If I’d thought the last classroom was bad, this was worse. So much worse. Not only could I feel like I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t think about anything other than keeping my breakfast where it needed to be.
Once my eyes started to register things again, I found Nancy in the second row. She smiled and nodded, comforting me into talking.
“I-I-I’m…Tini...”
I looked two seats behind Nancy and found Jonathan, giving me a discreet thumbs up. I’d saved him from being eaten by an inter dimensional monster, but I needed his reassurance to even get through saying my name…
“Tini H-Hopper.”
Unlike Steve’s class, there were only a few students who looked like they were trying not to laugh. A small grace.
“It’s a pleasure to have you join our class, Tini,” Miss Turned placed a hand on my shoulder, “Why don’t you go ahead and take a seat?”
Robotically, I moved towards the one empty seat in the room. It was in the very first row, the exact place that I’d been told by both Nancy and Jonathan was not where I wanted to be. I had every pair of eyes on me and only two of them cared how uncomfortable I was.
Throughout the class, I struggled to keep up, something I knew would happen. But unlike home, I couldn’t pause and take my time on the equations. I had to follow the speed of the class. When the bell rang, I practically slumped over in my chair.
“Hey,” Nancy greeted, I looked up from my papers feeling like I’d just been through war, “It wasn’t that bad.”
“Yeah,” I scoffed, stuffing my homework in my backpack and following the crowd with her.
“It wasn’t,” she insisted, “Jonathan, tell her…”
Jonathan melted into the outpour of classmates out of the room with us, “Really, it wasn’t that bad.”
I sighed loudly, “In this class, no. But I think I’m famous in room 108.”
Nancy rubbed my arm and guided me down the hall, “Come on, let’s go find your locker.”
“Good, a place to hide,” I groaned.
“We’ve all been through worse things than walking into the wrong classroom,” Jonathan said, raising a knowing eyebrow to me, “Right?”
Monsters. Other dimensions. Rescuing little kids. Rescuing kids from monsters in other dimensions.
If things didn’t shape up soon, I’d be ranking my first day at Hawkins High up with battling the Demogorgon.
—————————
English class was my first win of the day. After reading so many books in shelters to try and help my speech, it was the one subject I felt confident about. It was also the only class I had without Nancy or Jonathan. I felt proud that I’d made it through on my own.
I figured that the best way to find the cafeteria, rather than ask someone again, was to just follow the crowd. Eventually, it led me to the right place. There was more order to the cafeteria than anywhere else so far. I waited in line, fiddling with the dollar bill Hopper had given me.
Once I got up to the lunch ladies, they scooped various servings of food onto my tray before I could ask what they were. They looked…almost edible. Jonathan’s “mystery meat” stories echoed in my head.
“So you’re the chief’s kid?”
I looked up in surprise, there was someone talking to me. A boy, at least a foot taller than me, stocky and dressed in a band t-shirt I didn’t recognize.
“Oh, yeah,” I tried to smile, wondering whether or not I should add the word ‘adopted.’ It was strange enough to have the last name Hopper.
“Bet you can’t get away with shit,” he remarked. All I could do was nervously laugh.
“Oh my gosh, you’re the homeless girl!” the girl on my right exclaimed.
“Oh, shit,” the boy said far too loudly, “That’s you?”
I looked down at my tray as we scooted down the line, “Yep, that’s me.”
“Wow,” the girl focused all her attention on me, “You so don’t look homeless. You look, like, okay.”
Was she…complimenting me? In some weird way? Was I supposed to thank her?
“Is it, like, super weird to be with normal people now?” she asked.
I inhaled deeply, “It’s, uh…it’s an adjustment.”
“I can’t even imagine…” she shook her head as I moved to pay for my food, “I volunteered at a homeless shelter once and it was, like, the most insane thing I’d ever seen. Like, these people just had no home and some of them looked like they’d been that way for a long time. I mean, a long time…Did you think you’d be there forever? I can’t-“
I felt like I was being interrogated by a talk show host, on display for everyone to see. Even if she meant well, I wasn’t interested in discussing anything about a part of my life I was trying to put in the past.
“But they were so dirty. I mean, really dirty but- oh!” the girl only stopped talking when she had to pay. It gave me the perfect opportunity to escape.
Navigating the cafeteria was more difficult, there were easily over 100 students at Hawkins High and I needed to find just one of the three I knew. I stopped in the main path and searched for Nancy or Jonathan, spotting Nancy first with Steve glued to her side. I narrowly avoided a boy making wild hand gestures while holding a soda and hurried to their table.
“Hey,” Nancy said, perky as ever, “What’d you get?”
I finally looked down at my plate, grimacing at the various dishes. “A dare,” I answered.
Steve snorted, “Hey, it’s only up from here, right?”
“After the morning I had?” I chuckled, “One can only hope.”
Our voices, somewhat quiet, suddenly seemed louder than when I’d sat down. The whole left side of the room had gotten quieter. When I looked up, I saw students at the surrounding tables staring at…me. Whispering, pointing, laughter hidden behind their hands…it was all directed at me.
The homeless girl.
My face began to feel hot, my palms begin to feel sweaty. Everyone, everyone, was trying to figure me out. They wanted to get a look at the girl from the streets, the one who apparently wasn’t a human being for the first sixteen years of her life. They were deconstructing every part of me that was visible and making up the things they didn’t know.
The final insult came when something wet hit my cheek, bouncing off my face and falling on the table. I picked it up to see it was a spit coated ball of paper.
The tears that filled my eyes blissfully blurred my vision. I could make out that Steve had sat forward in his seat and was trying to determine where the attack had come from. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered at this point…everyone had already made up their minds about me.
“Tini…” Nancy gently called.
I was already up, lunch tray in hand.
“Tini,” Steve said, “It’s okay, it’s-“
My feet carried me out of the cafeteria before he could finish his lie.
The further I walked, the quieter the halls got, something I was thankful for considering I had tear streaking down my face. Eventually I ended up outside at the football field. Hungry and tired, I carefully balanced my tray and climbed the bleachers. The few people there were with the same idea were spread out, giving me a large chunk of space to myself. It was as close to being alone as I could get.
Then, and only then, did I pick up a forkful of my lunch and start to cry.
—————————
By the time I was in science class, my last class, I was ready for the day to be over. I had ten minutes left until I could run out the doors, climb in the truck, and try not to choke on the smell of the air freshener Hopper used to fight the stench of his cigarettes.
Science was one of the subjects I had been having the hardest time with. I paid extra attention as Mr. Walters mixed various chemicals I couldn’t pronounce the names of.
“Psst,” the person behind me whispered, tapping me on the shoulder, “Take this.”
He let go of a folded piece of paper that landed on my desk. I unrolled it to see a stick figure drawing of a girl, hair sticking out in every direction with holes in her clothes. If I didn’t already have an idea who it was supposed to resemble, the writing next to it spelled it out perfectly.
‘Homeless Freak’
“Ms. Hopper!”
Still in shock, I looked up at Mr. Walters, a dumbstruck expression on my face.
“I assume there is something on that piece of paper that is more demanding of your attention than our lesson.”
The explanation ran through my head so quick the words ran together, but I couldn’t make my mouth move.
“Perhaps a little more time would help you craft an answer,” Mr. Walters pulled out a pad of paper, scribbled something and handed it to me, “Head to room 109, detention.”
The hushed laughter acted as the soundtrack to my grand exit. I picked up my backpack, crumpled the note in my palm and headed for the door. The tears were coming faster than they had at lunch.
“Wait, Mr. Walters,” a familiar voice announced, “She didn’t do anything.”
I turned around to see Steve, standing up at his desk and pointing towards me.
“Your loyalty is admirable, Mr. Harrington,” Mr. Walters said, not at all happy about the interruption, “But unnecessary.”
“No, sir. I saw it, she didn’t-“
“That will be all, Mr. Harrington, unless you wish to join your friend?”
Half of the class was watching Steve, waiting for him to make his choice, and the other was glaring at me. I knew Steve was popular and now, in their eyes, I was the one dragging him down. By trying to fix the situation, he was making it worse. When our eyes met, I shook my head discreetly.
Steve sighed, obeying my wish, “No, Mr. Walters.”
“If that is all,” our teacher looked between us both, “Then we will continue with our lesson.”
Even though I knew Steve was watching, waiting for me to turn around to try and convey some message, I hurried out of the room. Thankfully, class hadn’t let out yet and I was free to cry my way down the halls. I was behind all of my classmates, hated by King Steve’s royal subjects, and a life-long homeless freak.
High school was, officially, a nightmare.
—————————
It was twenty minutes into detention when Hopper burst through the door, accompanied by a woman.
“Ms. Delacourt,” she addressed the teacher in charge of watching the four kids in the room, “Chief Hopper is here to retrieve his daughter, it seems they’ve had somewhat of a family emergency.”
Confused, I looked up at Hopper who was holding his hat in his hands. If it hadn’t been for the wink he shot me, I’d have thought something terrible had happened to El.
I was mercifully permitted to leave. Hopper thanked the teachers for their understanding and we left. The halls were emptied for the most part, giving us the chance to talk.
“You want to explain what happened?” Hopper asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I sighed, the incriminating piece of paper still in my backpack.
Hopper hummed, “Well, your friend felt differently. The Harrington kid came and found me, told me what happened.”
Hopper opened the front door to reveal Steve standing outside the truck, trying to calm down a very concerned Nancy. The sight of me had her jogging over to me.
“I’m so sorry,” she said as she hugged me, “Steve told me everything.”
Luckily, I was all cried out or else the kindness would have moved me to tears.
Nancy pulled back to look at me, “Don’t listen to any of them, please. First days are just…hard. It’s going to get better.”
“I’m not sure I agree,” I tried to smile, Steve joined us as Hopper got in the truck, “You didn’t have to do that…”
“It wasn’t your fault,” he replied, “The guy who wrote whatever it was is a dick.”
“Well, thank you,” I hugged Nancy once more, “I’ll see you guys tomorrow…”
Steve reached out to squeeze my shoulder as I passed him. He’d ended up helping me more than even he’d thought he would. I never thought he of all people would be my savior.
On the way home, Hopper heard more about my day. I didn’t tell him about the specific incidents so much as just the general mood of the day. I was given the same sentiment I had from Nancy; first days are hard, it’ll get better. I wanted to believe them both, but neither of them understood why it wasn’t going to get easier. I was a freak. I couldn’t change being gullible or having been homeless. I was forever going to be a target.
El hurried to hug me as soon as I was through the door. It made me feel lighter than I had all day.
“School?” she asked, her eyes bright and wide.
All day, I’d been a burden. Jonathan and Nancy had to walk me through basic things, Steve had to stay late to find Hopper, who then had to lie and bail me out…I didn’t want to feel helpless anymore. I wanted to be someone’s hero.
“It was great,” I said, putting on a big smile for her when she pulled back, “But I’ve been looking forward to Eggos all day.”
The rest of the night was spent eating dinner in front of the tv, something Hopper allowed out of pity. El laughed, I pretended to. It was only when we were both in bed that I let the tears flow freely.
At some point, when I knew I wasn’t going to sleep, I crept over the edge of my bed and grabbed my old backpack. I reached in for my notebook and pencil and pulled them out. I used the faint moonlight peeking through the curtains to see the lines on the paper. Sniffling, I wrote out the words—
I don’t like high school.
I finally dozed off with my headphones on, my Walkman softly playing ‘Army Dreamers’ and Kate Bush singing me into the only place I’d wanted to be all day: blissful unconsciousness.
————————
Unlucky Taglist: @milkiane @raynelbabe @kik51199 @hazydespair @burn1ngw00d @fanficfanatic204 @stratospherewalker @caitsymichelle13 @potatoflavoured @guichi @triscuit-reads @angelbbygrl @daisyjohncn @thel0v3hashira143 @m-rae23 @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @dessmxsworld
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fanfiction#stranger things imagine#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction
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15 People 15 Questions with Stereax - thanks @simmyfrobby for the direct tag and @jonassiegenthighler for the GC tag <3
1. are you named after anyone?
Nope! As far as I'm aware, I was named from one of those baby name books but my parents fucked up the spelling on purpose to be "special".
2. when was the last time you cried?
Probably just before Christmas when I was realizing just how fucked up my childhood and family dynamics are in a chat with a friend. Before that, in class while I was bombing a presentation. Before that, in class when the teacher told me to... raise my hand before I spoke... I don't really ever cry unless in public and it's always for a stupid reason.
3. do you have kids?
I have a lot of stuffed animals! And a bunch of kids I tutor. But none of my own, that's not in the plans.
4. what sports do you play/have you played?
My parents tried me in everything, but mostly tennis stuck. I'm not that good at it, I'm not really athletic in general and my forehand was busted to the point where I would only do lobs with it, but I was fairly okay, especially when it came to my backhand, so I got by. Haven't played in a few years though.
5. do you use sarcasm?
A lot more in real life than online.
6. what’s the first thing you notice about people?
One of the things I try to pay attention to is the hands. I also end up looking at teeth a lot. Both of those can kind of give you an idea of who a person is. I don't know if I'm good at eye contact or not, but I don't really think so?
7. what’s your eye color?
Hahahaha. It's kind of... everything? Not in a Mary Sue way but like, the outer ring is a greyish blue-green and the inner ring is like, a golden hazel-y green? And depending on the lighting or glasses, that changes? So... my ID says green.
8. scary movies or happy endings?
Scary movies mostly annoy me, so happy endings. I don't like sad endings that much; I tend to dwell on them too long.
9. any talents?
Um, I used to be a mathlete when I was a kid? So I can do a lot of math in my head, generally exceeding the capabilities of most people I know, and usually with speed too. But that's not really a "talent". I guess I speak several languages, but again, not really a "talent". I don't really know. I don't really consider myself good at anything, you know? I write? Sometimes? But not well either. So.
10. where were you born?
Ridgewood, New Jersey. Apparently because my parents thought it would be a "good city to be born in" and that it would "always be on my birth certificate". I don't know the logic either.
11. what are your hobbies?
I really like mobile games! I'm currently obsessed with Path to Nowhere, used to play a lot of King's Raid before they destroyed that game with awful updates, and also play Pokemon Go and Pikmin Bloom regularly to motivate myself to leave the house. Also puzzles, both solving and sometimes creating my own! And I'm also slowly getting into the NFL as well as the NHL (obviously). My thing is that when I get into something, I need to know everything about it and be the "best" at it, which screws me up a lot, but. Knowledge!
12. do you have any pets?
I used to have fish when I was a kid. I'm not in the right conditions to own a pet, both logistically and mentally.
13. how tall are you?
I don't know exactly but I think around 5'5" to 5'6", or 165 to 167 cm. I always wanted to end up around 5'9", so 175 cm, but I didn't get enough tall genes, I guess :( still have markings on the wall about ideal height :')
14. favorite subject in school?
When I was growing up, math; more currently, probably law classes.
15. dream job?
I've always envisioned myself ending up in law or business or especially politics, but like, not as a scumbag? If that makes sense. Like, a senator or even higher than that, but not a corrupt piece of shit. Which I know is impossible and an oxymoron. So I guess the answer is, most generally, a leader of some sort.
I'd tag the GC but Eliot did that already sooooo um, if you're following me and see this consider yourself tagged!
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um your wordpress posts look awful on mobile jsyk. they're literally filling up the entire dash
oh no :( that's terrible
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coffee confessionals
peter parker x female reader
summary: peter parker stumbles into the coffee shop you work at and ends up a regular customer. nobody could’ve told you that you’d end up falling in love.
w/c: 7.1k
a/n: this one has been in the works since december, hence the winter setting. if the format is bad, it’s because i’m editing on mobile. it’s not super proofread, it’s kinda long and that’ll probably annoy me later, but anyway enjoy
The day you first met Peter Parker was seemingly uneventful.
You were working the counter at the little bakery on 47th street. It wasn’t much of a job and it was much to your mother’s dismay, but you enjoyed it. The shop was tiny and the regulars were persistent. Not to mention, the coffee wasn’t even worth half of the price. Somehow you managed to enjoy the little things about your job, despite its obvious flaws. The shift was slow, as per usual, when a boy with soft brown curls bounced into the shop breathlessly. You watched him curiously as he scanned the room and tried to catch his breath.
“Hi,” he greeted with a half-smile. You returned the smile.
“Hi. What could I get you started with today?” You asked in your customer service tone of voice. He hesitated and read the faded overhead menu.
“Just a coffee and a bagel, please.”
“Okay. Name?”
“Peter Parker,” he quickly responded. You laughed lightly.
“Well alright, Peter Parker. To go?”
“Um, yeah.” You picked one of the fresher bagels out and poured his coffee. He thanked you graciously as you gave him his total and order.
“Thanks for stopping by. Haven’t seen you around here before.” He met your eyes and you got a better glimpse of his face. His eyes were a deep brown and he appeared to be around your age. Not to mention, he was cute.
“Just thought I’d try something new while I was in the neighborhood.” Peter tossed you a strange look and turned to leave.
“Have a good rest of your day, Parker.”
“You too.” And with that, he left the store and left you with a weird feeling in your chest.
To your surprise, he showed up again the next day with the same order. The days quickly turned into weeks. He eventually asked for your name and made sure to ask how you were. Each time he came in, the conversations got longer and the feeling in your chest grew.
“It’s good to see you becoming a regular,” you told him when he came in the next day. Peter shrugged and sat down on a stool.
“What can I say? I like the coffee. And the company’s not too bad either.” You could feel your cheeks redden at the line. He took his coat and backpack off and set them down.
“Not taking it to-go this time?”
“Not today. I’m kinda tired, had a rough day.” Placing his cup on the counter, you studied his face. His eyes had dark lines around them and you spotted a cut above his nose.
You questioned it, “Get into a fight or something?” He was taken aback, shocked that you even noticed.
He sputtered, “Uh, no. I just… ran into a.. door.”
“Must be Parker luck,” you joked, hiding your skepticism. He snapped his head up attentively.
“What?”
“Parker luck, I don’t know. I just came up with it. Sorry.“
“No it’s just, I say that sometimes too,” Peter interrupted you with a confused expression painted on his face.
“Oh. Cool.” You tried your best to ignore this and picked out an iced sugar cookie from the case and handed it to him, careful that your boss didn’t see. “Here.”
“What’s this for?”
“You sound like you could use it.” He pulled his wallet out, ready to pay, but you stopped him. “Nope, it’s on me.”
He argued, “You don’t have to do that.”
“Peter, I want to. So just let me, okay?”
“Fine.” He picked it up and took a bite begrudgingly. “Okay, this is a really good cookie.”
“It should be. It was made by yours truly.” He looked up to you in awe and you laughed. You served a few more regular customers while he ate.
“How’s Tim today?” Peter asked. Tim was your boss, a real stereotypical guy. He didn’t care much about the business or the people, but he wrote your checks. On occasion, he would get cranky, but he wasn’t too bad.
“Pretty normal. He threw a fit earlier because a customer complained to him about prices, but not too bad for a Monday.” Peter nodded. “You know, I never asked if you had a job.”
“No,” he said plainly, “I don't really have the time. There’s an internship though, or a partnership kind of? It’s hard to explain.”
“That’s pretty impressive. You get it from college or something?”
“Not exactly. It was personal.”
“I see.” His phone chimed in his pocket. He read the message and sighed.
“Speaking of which, he wants me. Can I get one more coffee to go? Dark roast because he’s a heathen.” You chuckled, already starting brewing a new pot.
“Sounds like a fun guy.”
“Trust me, he is.” Peter grabbed his coat and bag. You handed him the second cup and another cookie. He threw you a confused look, but you shook your head.
“Take it. He sounds like he could use it too.” He let out a light chuckle.
“Yeah, I guess he does. Thank you, really.” You gave him a bright smile.
“Anytime. See you tomorrow?”
“Of course.” Despite his hands being full, he managed a wave and walked out. You found yourself still smiling when one of your coworkers - Jessica - walked up to you.
She teased, “When’s the wedding?” Your cheeks went red. You didn’t want to admit it, but you did like him.
“Relax, we haven’t even been on a date. Or have seen each other outside of here.” You paused and went quiet. “Yet.” She squealed and you tossed an elbow into her side.
As if the universe was suddenly against the idea, you didn’t see Peter again for another week. Each day you waited and waited, but he never came. You tried not to be disappointed because he had more important obligations than going to an overpriced, old bakery every day, but the shop seemed gloomier without him there. You missed him and that was the scariest part about it. Besides, you barely even knew him, right?
You finally started to accept the fact that he wasn’t coming back any time soon. But one of these days, while you were closing up, the door opened.
“Sorry, we’re close-” You turned around from cleaning the counters, and noticed that it was Peter.
It was unmistakably Peter.
“Oh! Hey?” You cleared your throat, trying to suppress your happiness that he showed up. He staggered towards the counter with his hands tucked away in his pockets.
“Hi.” You waited for him to continue as you studied his face. He had a bandage on the corner of his forehead and appeared pale.
“Are you okay?” You blurted. “Sorry, I just noticed you look a little… off? Again?” He turned his attention to the floor.
“Yeah, I just got into an accident. I’m okay though, I swear.” He met your worried gaze. “Don’t worry about me, okay?” You bit your lip and nodded slowly.
“Okay. Fine.” He shifted awkwardly.
“I, uh, wanted to ask if you wanted to get out of here? And hang out… With me?” You held back your growing smile.
“Sure.” You played it off casually as your heart pounded in your ears. “Where do you wanna go? There’s a skating rink a block from here if you’re interested.” Peter grinned back and nodded.
“Sounds great.”
“I’ll be ready to go in a few, ‘kay?” He waited patiently for you as you wiped down a few more tables and put on your coat. Locking the door behind you, you left with Peter at your side and a newfound excitement in your heart. The air was surprisingly cold and took you by surprise, so you crossed your arms and breathed out the cold air. “Tell me, Parker, where do you go to school?”
“Midtown Science and Tech.” You couldn’t help but be surprised.
“I mean, I figured you were smart but that’s impressive. Wait, where do you live?” You paused. “I didn’t mean it like that, sorry.” He laughed it off, and you sighed out of relief.
“I live in Queens.”
“You- You come a long way for mediocre coffee and bagels.”
“Yeah, I do,” he agreed quietly. “So what do you wanna do after school? I take it you don’t want to work in this bakery for your entire life.”
“My mom’s got a company she’d like me to work at.”
“But what do you want to do?” You stopped. Peter was the first person to ask you what you wanted to do with your life. Your lips twisted into a half-smile.
“Ironically, I’d like to have my own bakery. Is that dumb?” He met your troubled gaze and shook his head.
“I think it’s sweet.” Time seemed to slow under the flickering street lamps. You stood inches away from him, frozen, while light snow dusted your hair. The recurring feeling in your chest was aching as you studied Peter’s face. The cool winter breeze made his hair sweep sideways. A look crossed his face and he moved his hand towards yours. Standing together on the corner of a random street, the moment couldn’t have been more perfect. You took his gloveless hand into yours and walked on in comfortable silence.
You arrived at the skating rink shortly after and rented skates. The indistinct chatter of laughing children and giddy couples filled the air as you tied your skates.
“Ready?” Peter asked, extending his hand towards you. You accepted it and made your way to the ice.
It came as no surprise to you that Peter was naturally a great skater. He glided next to you in a graceful manner you’d never achieve. In consideration for you, he paced himself and waited while you tried to maintain balance in your footing.
“How are you so good at everything?” You scowled in a joking manner after slipping and nearly falling. Peter choked out a laugh, holding his ribs tentatively.
“Trust me, I’m not.” You glared, but it quickly turned into concern as you watched him cough.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” His skin was still a sickly white and while he was brilliant on the ice, he appeared in pain.
“Yes, I swear. Sorry.”
“Why are you sorr-” Your skates suddenly slid from underneath you, but you managed to stay on your feet.
“Here, lemme help.” Peter snuck up behind you and held onto your waist with one hand. “Just start slow.” You tried following his instructions, but the awareness of how close he was to you certainly wasn’t helping. You seemed hyper-aware of how strong he was and how dumb it was that you didn’t know how to skate. He touched you carefully as you clung to him for balance. Before long, you already wanted to quit.
“Peter, I know you could do this all day but I just can’t do it,” you complained. He turned around (because of course, he was back in front of you) and sighed.
“Alright, let’s go,” he agreed. “Hey-” Before he could give you a proper warning, somebody hit you from behind. Your skates slipped and you tumbled down to the ice. But to your surprise, you didn’t feel the crack of your head on the ground - which is a hundred percent what would have happened - had Peter not been there to catch you. You blinked up at him as he held you gently. “Are you okay?”
“I… I think so.” He helped you stand and you immediately noticed the tight, burning sensation in your ankle. You winced at the pain as you put light pressure on it.
“What is it?” Peter asked, obviously sensing your pain. You squeezed your eyes shut and lifted your foot off the ice.
“It’s just my ankle, it’s fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Maybe not,” you surrendered. Almost instinctively, he swung an arm around your shoulders. “Wha-”
He interrupted you. “Can you make it to a bench?” You considered this before nodding. With Peter’s help, you made it off the ice safely and headed for the bench. Cautiously, you took off your skates and handed them to Peter (who firmly told you to “stay put” while he returned them).
When Peter returned, he came back bearing two cups of hot chocolate. You offered a shy smile as he handed you one.
“Before you say I didn’t have to, take it as a payback for the free cookies,” he said.
“Thanks.” He sat down next to you, eyes twinkling among the lights. The delicate flurries of snow had returned as did the smile traced on your lips. You sipped your hot chocolate and watched Peter in contentment. The way the stringed lights made his brown eyes gleam, and how he always had a faint reminiscence of a smile on his lips made you feel at peace. You were easily relaxed in the comfort of the cold snow and Peter Parker.
Eventually, you made your way to the sidewalks to catch a taxi. Peter managed to flag one down - and insisted on paying. You tried to argue, but it was no use. Sitting tightly in the backseat, you waited for the short ride to be over. When you finally reached your apartment building, you didn't expect him to get out with you.
“What? You think I’d just leave you to get up the stairs by yourself?” He teased.
“There’s an elevator.”
“Even better.” Together you hobbled into the elevator and waited, hand-in-hand. There was a natural feeling about being around him and holding his hand that gave you hope. You locked eyes as the elevator dinged.
“You don’t have to worry about me so much, you know?” He laughed, eyes directed to the floor.
“Can’t help it.”
“Can’t help what exactly? Your hero complex?” At this, he swallowed and the smile faded. However suspicious, you didn’t comment on it. He had to have a good reason, but it was probably nothing. “This one’s mine.” You approached the door, lifting your bad foot gently off the ground, and opening it with your keys. Peter followed you inside, his arm still wrapped around yours.
“Pretty nice place you’ve got,” he commented. You scanned the room, hoping nothing left out was embarrassing and praying your parents weren’t home. The lights were almost all off, so you felt some relief. Peter helped you to the couch, handing you a pillow. “Is this where I say goodnight?”
“Probably.” He shifted uncomfortably and you wondered why. “I’m gonna be okay if that’s what you’re thinking about.”
“I just feel bad that this happened,” he admitted quietly. You leaned forward and grabbed his hand once more.
“Think of it this way: if it weren’t for you, I’d have a busted ankle and concussion.” This provoked a laugh and you couldn’t help but smile back. “Plus, it’s not even that bad right now.”
“So… You’re saying it was bad?”
“No, oh my-”
“Besides, even if it’s not that bad right now, it’ll probably be bad for the next few days. You probably won’t be able to move it let alone walk on it because of the initial impact of the injury… Sorry,” he rambled, stopping only when he noticed the look on your face. You bit back a laugh.
“Don’t apologize for being smart.” His cheeks reddened and he took a step back. “Here, give me your phone.” Somewhat confused, he complied and unlocked his phone. You typed in your number and handed it back quickly.
“So this means if you need anything, you’ll call, right?” He asked.
“Well, I sure hope I can talk to you more than that. But yes. If I need something, I’ll call.”
“Great. Uh, talk to you soon then I guess?” You nodded and he grinned meekly back at you.
“Goodnight Peter.”
“Goodnight.” And with that, he left your apartment, leaving you with only hopeful and giddy thoughts to dwell on.
It was a Saturday night two weeks later and instead of lounging at home, your mother dragged you to one of her fancy galas that she always begged you to attend. This meant two things; one, you had to follow the strict black-tie dress code, and two, you had to socialize with strangers all night. Your mom, however, was ecstatic that you finally agreed to go. She wanted you to ‘make business conversations’ and ‘branch out more,’ but you wanted nothing to do with that. This time, for whatever reason, you finally caved in.
You sat up straight in your chair, surrounded by black suits and evening dresses. It was beautiful, simply put. Chandeliers dangled from the ceiling, cameras were flashing, and an orchestra was playing in the corner. It was a little too much for your taste, but you could see the appeal. You had already listened to a handful of speeches and made small talk with whoever came by in the first hour of being there. It was boring, to say the least. You wished you had somebody to hang out with aside from your busy, and tipsy, mother. Due to your ankle, you still hadn’t returned to work. Naturally, you didn’t see Peter in those two weeks either. The few calls you had, where he answered with a worried tone, weren’t the same as being with him. You hated how much you missed seeing him every day, and how he was often on your mind.
Maybe it was a coincidence, or maybe it was fate, but you glanced up to see a familiar boy with soft brown curls walk into the room. He was dressed in a fine-pressed suit that you knew he couldn’t afford. You were trying to see who he was with, but the crowds and cameras blocked your view. That’s when you heard the name they were all calling: Tony Stark.
Your mind went blank when you realized that Peter’s personal internship was with none other than Tony Stark. Suddenly, your thoughts scattered and you found yourself on your feet. Peter finally noticed you, which prompted him to abruptly leave Tony’s side. He smiled at you in astonishment and confusion.
“Hi?”
“Hi,” he breathed. He gazed down at your flowy satin dress in awe. “You look… really pretty.”
“Thanks.” You grinned back and met his eyes. “So do you.” Out of embarrassment, you expected him to turn away, but his gaze was fully focused on you as his cheeks brightened.
“Wha- What are you doing here?” He coughed out, still flustered.
“Mom wanted me to go. What’s your excuse?” He glanced towards Tony quickly and turned back to you. “I’ve already seen you with Tony Stark.”
In a hushed tone, he responded, “He finally let me come tonight.”
“Now that’s an accomplishment,” you joked. He wore a meek smile, eyes now turned towards the ground. An idea suddenly crossed your mind. “Would you like to dance?” His head snapped up as he met your eyes. He nodded wordlessly and reached out to take your hand. You made your way over to the fairly crowded area of couples slow-dancing next to the orchestra.
Peter gently placed his hands on your waist as you swung your arms around his shoulders. His hold on you was stiff, but as you started moving, his hands relaxed. You swayed to the music slowly, allowing yourself to be content in the comfort of his arms. The couples beside you were far better dancers, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Peter let his eyes fall closed, while you leaned into him.
“This is nice,” you whispered.
“Yeah. It is,” he agreed. Then, after a pause, he noted, “I just know Tony is getting a kick out of this right now.” You laughed softly and looked behind his shoulder. Sure enough, Tony was watching him from where he was standing with a smirk on his face.
“I can assure you he is.” Peter turned his neck to see where you were looking. Tony gave him a sly nod and he turned back blushing. “So I know you live with your aunt but what about your parents? I take it you’re working with him all the time.” The expression on his face was unreadable. Every time you talked to Peter, you seemed to solve a part of his mystery. He was an overthinker for sure, but it was always out of care. He was smart in a humble way and careful with his words when need be. Something about his life didn’t add up though, but you didn’t want to pry. “I’m sorry, I-”
“No, it’s okay,” he quickly dismissed, “My parents died a while ago. I moved in with my aunt and uncle, and when my uncle passed, Tony came into the picture. He’s done a lot for me, work-related or not.” A pit of guilt gnawed at your stomach.
“Peter, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring anything up,” you apologized as a wave of shame came over you.
“It’s okay. I… I want to tell you the truth.” There was a sadness in his voice that you couldn’t recognize. He opened his mouth to say something else, but as he glanced across the room, he refrained.
“What?” You asked in a low tone. He shook his head and leaned into you. You let him lead the dance this time, listening to his heart beating in your ear. “I’m so glad I met you,” you mumbled before you could stop it. Your stomach dropped when you realized what you said. Peter pulled his head back and met your eyes.
“Me too.” Relief instantly washed over you. He wrapped you into a hug and the room seemed to fall away. When you pulled away from the hug, you were face to face. The same funny feeling in your chest ignited, and it was then that you realized what it was: Love.
Your eyes went wide and you sensed a panic coming on. It was so quick and was such a natural realization. You couldn’t tell him. While you knew there was a mutual liking, you could not go as far as tell him you love him. Besides, how could you be sure? Trying to shake it off, you laid your head back on his chest and let out a deep breath.
“You okay?” Peter asked. You cleared your throat and didn’t bother looking up.
“Yeah, I’m good.” You felt his soft smile press into your hair. Returning the smile, you allowed yourself to fall back into the music and push your thoughts out of your mind.
Time flew by; it must’ve been hours, although it felt like minutes. All the others dancing had left long ago, as did half of the orchestra. Selfishly, you didn’t want to leave Peter’s side. But you also noticed both Tony and your mother waiting around, bored from their conversations and drinks.
“I think we gotta go,” you whispered into his chest. He tightened his grip around you before pulling away.
“This was really nice. A good break,” he added, studying your face. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“First day back.” He smiled before dipping down and planting a kiss on your cheek. You felt your stomach flip and hoped he wouldn’t notice how nervous you had become. With a final smile, he walked away.
“Did you have fun?” Your mom asked as you returned to her side. The reminiscence of a smile on your lips told her all she needed to know. “Is he the boy from the bakery?”
“Yeah, he is.”
“I wonder what he’s doing with Tony Stark,” she noted, fixing her gaze on the pair. Peter’s face was flushed and Tony wore an entertained grin. You could only assume the conversation they were having. “Anyway, ready to go?”
“Yep, let’s go.” As you left, your thoughts echoed his name. You couldn’t wait to see him again, but your realization from earlier still haunted your mind. You decided that you had to tell him, but maybe not right away. The two of you had a good thing going, and you didn’t want to risk that.
The next day at work was just how you expected it to be; long and exhausting. Tim was on your back about missing so much work, your coworkers were arguing, and the coffee machine broke halfway through shift. To top it off, Peter didn’t show up either. You thought maybe you ruined things already, or maybe he simply forgot. You tried pushing the bad thoughts out of your mind, but it didn’t work. All you could think was that it was your fault.
The television was on a low hum in the background and you couldn’t help to notice the most recent breaking news about the infamous Spider-Man. Jessica, the coworker who first teased you about Peter, snuck up behind you.
“Don’t you wonder who he really is?” She questioned.
“I think we all do,” you responded without taking your eyes off the screen. It was describing a brutal battle he faced moments before against some ego-maniac.
“It would be so cool to meet him.” She crossed the counter. “Anyway, I gotta go. Have fun closing tonight.”
“I’ll try.”
“I’m leaving too,” Tim announced to you, walking out of his back office, “Take out the trash now, will ya?”
“Got it,” you mumbled back. As soon as they both left and were out of sight, you turned the sign on the door. It was close enough to the end of the night that you could get away with closing early. Trying to hurry up, you grabbed the overflowing trash bag and hauled it into the alley.
Echoes of screams filled your ears as soon as you opened the back door. You pivoted towards the noise instinctively, noticing a black shadow on the brick walls. A man popped his head up, holding a purse and a gun, and the trash bag clutched in your hands dropped to the ground. You stepped back, arms in the air.
“I-” You began to stutter, unsure of what to say or do. “I’m… going to assume that the purse isn’t yours.” He rolled his eyes and aimed his gun toward your face. Your legs quaked under you - was the world spinning? It felt like it was.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you to not make assumptions?” The man spat. Fear coursed through your veins. As terrified as you were, you had to try to do something.
“Look, nobody has to get hurt here. All I wanna do is close and go home. I won’t tell anyone. These things happen all the time, what’s one more gonna do? Please. I promise,” you frantically lied. There’s no way you wouldn’t say anything, but you couldn’t tell him that. You drew a shaky breath, praying it wouldn’t be your last.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.” He narrowed his eyes and took a step towards you, but you backed away closer to the door. His gloved hand grabbed your wrist, yanking you forward. As soon as you went to hit him away, a new voice shouted and the man’s arms coiled around your neck. The breath was knocked out of your lungs. A cold metal skimmed your forehead. You didn’t need to look at it to know what it was. You focused your eyes on the noise in front of you to see the red masked vigilante you were talking about minutes prior.
“Let her go,” he said, his voice quivering. The eyes on his mask were widened but they were all your bleary eyes could focus on. “Nobody needs to get hurt here.”
“Funny, that’s what the girl said too.”
“I don’t wanna fight you.”
“Then don’t, Spider-Man.” Your ears began to ring, fading out the conversation. A blur of red suddenly flashed before you and your body tumbled to the pavement. You gasped for air as your neck was released from its hold. From the corner of your eye, you could see Spider-Man holding the barrel of the man’s gun, trying to pry it away from him. He managed to take the gun from his grip, but the man fought back. As Spider-Man threw the gun to the side, he took a hard blow to the chest, making him stagger to the ground. He crumpled over in pain. Even though you were still struggling to catch your breath, you forced yourself up and grabbed the nearest object - a chipped flower pot. You attempted to hit the back of his skull, but he knew you were there. His hand flew back and knocked the pot out of your hands, shattering instantly. Before you could react, he landed a punch to your nose. You stumbled back down defeatedly.
Your attempt wasn’t entirely useless; simply an unplanned stalling technique. By the time you were down on the pavement, blood pouring from your nose, Spider-Man had gotten back up and webbed the man’s hands. He kicked him a final time, webbed him to the pavement, and turned his attention back to you.
“Karen? Yeah, call them, thanks,” he said to the air in front of his face. “Are you okay?” You peered up at him, eyes slightly blurry.
“Yeah. I mean, my nose hurts, but I’m fine.” You weren’t lying, although you did notice how shaky you still felt. The silence was deafening, and you could tell he was contemplating your answer.
“Are you sure?” You nodded, but for some reason, he wouldn’t let it go. “You know, it’s okay to not be… okay.” His voice seemed to change.
“I’m a little shook up but I’m good,” you argued.
“Can I at least help you clean up your cuts?” When you didn’t answer, he promptly started walking toward the back door. “That flower pot really scratched your hand.” You studied your hands that you hadn’t even noticed were bleeding. Through his mask, you could tell he wasn’t going to let it go.
“If it’ll make you feel better, then sure.” Happy with that response, he opened the back door for you. He spotted the first aid kit right away and told you to sit down. You didn’t argue, pulling up a chair and introducing yourself. He nodded and was oddly quiet while pouring the antiseptic on a cloth and dabbing it on your scratched hand. You hissed at the sting of it and he immediately stopped.
“Sorry! Sorry, I know,” he apologized. “I’m not gonna force you to talk to me - you don’t even know me, but it might help distract you.” You didn’t question his weird nervousness or the gentle way he held your hand.
“Um, alright.” He nodded back and returned the cloth to your hand. It still stung, but you bit your tongue. “What kinda special features do you have in your suit?” He snapped his head up at you and it was obvious how happy he was that you asked.
“Oh, there’s so much. I have enhancement sensors, temperature controls, nanotechnology incorporated…” He continued on. You wanted to listen, but your mind kept wandering. Flashes of the fight developed in your memories. You noticed how your breathing still didn’t feel complete, and how on edge you suddenly felt. Your face went blank as you tried to steady yourself. “-you okay?” He asked, but you only caught the tail end of his words. The thump of your heartbeat was stuck in your throat and your breaths were short. “Hey, take deep breaths. You’re okay. It’s okay.”
You closed your eyes and listened to him.
Slowly, you regained your sense of control and could focus on what was happening in front of you. When you opened your eyes again, you saw how worried he seemed.
“Is it a little better yet?” You forced a sliver of a smile.
“Yes, thank you. I don’t know what happened there. Panic, I suppose.” You hesitated. “I didn’t really process anything that had happened yet. The fact that I’m sitting next to Spider-Man after getting attacked? It doesn’t feel remotely real.”
“That’s a normal response. Sometimes all you need is a minute to take it in. It’s going to be okay,” he reassured. This time you offered him the fullest smile you could. “Can I finish cleaning your hand?” You nodded and he handed you a towel for your nose, noticing how it was bleeding again.
“I think it’s broken,” you said, feeling the puffiness on your face.
“Most likely. He had a heavy swing.” He continued dressing your hand and you continued the conversation.
“Are you okay? I mean, I know you’re a superhero and all but I heard about your other fight today too.”
“You did?” You nodded.
“Something about an ego-maniac on the loose. It wasn’t pretty.” He lifted his hand away from yours and stopped.
“I’m okay, thanks though.” You could sense something was off with him.
“Tell me Spider-Man, do you like saving people?”
“I suppose that’s why I do it, right? I…” He paused. “I don’t like the idea that someone out there is hurt when I have the ability to save them. If I didn’t use it, that would be selfish of me.” You tried studying his mask, but it was hard to tell what he was thinking.
“Well, thanks for not being selfish and saving me,” you lightly joked. “Seriously though, thank you.” He shook his head as if it was a normal thing to do.
“It’s what we do.” You peered up at him but he kept his head low.
“Is it hard? Living two different lives?” You asked quietly. It’s something you’d always wondered about heroes like him. He froze, thinking about what he could say. “I mean, I take it you have family and friends and a home. How can you-”
“Yes,” he answered simply, cutting you off. “It’s like… I want to protect everyone I can - especially the people I love - but to protect them, I can’t tell them who I am.” He took his hand away from yours abruptly and a pang of sadness washed over his demeanor. “Sorry.” It was hard not to notice that he apologized a lot, and how it reminded you of a certain someone you’d been trying not to think about.
“Don’t you think they’d understand though? And that they’d want to know?” You pushed on, ignoring his apology.
“I wish that I could, more than anything. Someone always gets hurt because of me. It’s not fair.” You bit the corner of your lip.
“I get it, I do. But… I still think they should know. They’ll understand, and it’s only doing more harm to everyone for not telling them.” He inhaled sharply. “Sorry, I totally overstepped there.” You quickly stood up, but a familiar sharp pain in your ankle dragged you back down. Holding onto the counter, you rebalanced yourself.
“Are you okay?” Spider-Man asked, concern dripping from his voice. You nodded.
“It’s just an ankle injury. I hurt it ice skating, granted I don’t even know why I suggested skating when I knew I wasn’t good at it. Maybe to impress him? I don’t know,” you rambled. “You didn’t need to hear all of that.” He looked down to the floor.
“You didn’t overstep, by the way. I… I think you’re right.” You met his masked gaze and a wave of familiarity came over you. “And you can keep talking, I don’t mind,” he added. Instead of questioning him, you continued with your ramble.
“He was supposed to show up today. He didn’t and I can’t help but think that it was my fault.” He stilled in front of you. “Not that I’ve done anything to jeopardize us, but you never know, right?”
“I think he has his reasons.”
“You remind me of him actually.”
“Should I take that as a compliment?”
“The best,” you answered with a small laugh. “He’s one of the most loyal and smart people I know. But he’s humble and cares way too much for others. It’s admirable. I… I wish he could see himself as I see him. And I wish he knew.”
“Knew?” He questioned.
“That I’ve fallen in love with him.” There was a natural pause in the room. On one hand, you can’t believe you just admitted that you fell in love with someone to a stranger, and on the other, it felt relieving. “We aren’t even dating, and haven’t even kissed so how could I be in love with him? It’s crazy; I’m crazy, I know.” You continued. “But I really am. He makes me so happy and I just get this feeling and-”
Right then, Spider-Man grabbed the back of his mask and started pulling it off his head.
“What’re you do- Peter?”
And there, standing in front of you, was Peter Parker. The loyal, overly heroic, charismatic Peter Parker. His eyes were red - along with the rest of his beaten face - and his expression showed complete confusion.
“You-You're Spider-Man?” You weren’t sure why you even asked when the answer was right in front of you.
“You love me?” He asked simply, taking a step closer to you. Your breath hitched in your throat. You could only nod. “I don’t think you’re crazy. Or else I guess I am too.” He gently cupped your face. “This okay?” Again, you could only nod. He leaned in slowly, closing the gap between you. You kissed him back with the feeling of finally. It wasn’t at all how you dreamt it’d be - perfect and something to daydream about - but it was real. And that’s how it always felt with Peter. The kiss wasn’t about the dramatics or “fireworks” feeling. The kiss reminded you of all the bakery days, the ice-skating date, dancing with him, and the look in his eyes underneath the lights. It felt comforting: it felt like home.
You broke it off and spoke first. “We gotta talk Peter.” He peered down at you with a worried expression. “It’s nothing bad.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I’m Spider-Man and I’m sorry you got hurt and I’m sorry-” You wrapped your arms around him so tightly that he had no option but to stop apologizing.
“It’s okay. I understand and I’m okay. Seriously though, are you?” He winced and took a deep breath, pulling away from you.
“My ribs hurt a bit,” he admitted. It was then that everything clicked in your mind - his random injuries and disappearances and holding his ribs in pain. You turned to Peter, his eyes dancing across your face, and shoved him. “What was that for?” He yelped.
“For not telling me. You let me believe you ran into doors and had a mysterious illness.” He laughed and you followed suit. You leaned into him carefully, soaking in the new feeling.
“Can I apologize one more time?” You nodded begrudgingly, giving him the go ahead. “I’m sorry. Especially for always saying sorry.” You smiled at him and he planted another kiss on your lips.
“Why did you come here? On that first day.” You asked out of curiosity.
“I don’t know. I wound up here on patrol and I just- I came in.”
“Why did you stay?”
“Because of you.” Your heart melted at his words, but a tear pricked the corner of your eye. You wiped it away quickly. “You okay?”
“Better than okay. Thank you. You saved my life.” He ducked down and put his face in your hair.
“You think I’d let you die?” He joked.
“No, but only because it fuels your major hero complex.” Peter looked you in the eye, and you could swear your heart stopped. It was the same way he met your gaze before, but yet it felt like so much more. It felt like reassurance and love, which is all you could ever need from him.
“You know what I could really use right now?” You shook your head. “A coffee and bagel.” A scoff escaped from your lips, but you found yourself pulling away from him anyway to make him a fresh cup.
“I’ll only do it because I like you.”
“Wait-” He paused, slipping his mask back on. “I’ll be right back.” Before you could question him, he was gone out the back door. You continued to make his coffee, hoping he’d be back by the time it was done. And that he was.
In the time that it took to brew a pot - approximately two and a half minutes - Peter managed to change his clothes into a nicer outfit and grab a bouquet of white roses, which were falling apart. You threw him a skeptical glance.
“I had this plan,” he started, “to ask you out properly. Today. Things kind of got in the way. I was going to purposely come later in the day, so less people would be here, and I’d order my usual and bring out these flowers and make a dumb comment about how pretty you are. I promise they looked nice before.” He gestured to the roses.
“I like them.”
“I’m glad.” He smiled bashfully and handed them to you. “I was going to tell you how much I love you. And how ridiculous it is. Last night, I just knew.” You gazed at him in utter awe of his words. “And I swear, I was going to tell you about being Spider-Man. I guess… I guess I wanted to protect you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I wanted to protect you as Peter Parker, not Spider-Man. I didn’t want to involve you with the superhero stuff. It sounds kinda dumb, because I’m the same person, but it’s not the same. I wanted to keep you away from me. Because following me means following danger, and I couldn’t do that to you. I can’t do that to you.” You listened carefully to his words. While you understood what he was saying, you weren’t about to watch him walk out on you after saying all of that. You put your hands on his face and met his gaze.
“Peter Parker. I choose you. And Spider-Man, and all the potential dangers that follow. That’s my choice, and it’s you.” You initiated the kiss this time. It was simple and quiet, but it still made your heart soar. “I think you should finish your original plan now.” Peter drew in a deep breath.
“Will you go on a real date with me?”
“Yes. Of course. Although, I’m afraid that we’ve already said I love you before the first real date.”
“I guess we’ll just have to have more dates then.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
“I’d say we could go on coffee dates but I’m also afraid we’ve had several of those,” he retorted back.
“It is where we met after all. Tradition, right?”
“Right.” Peter wrapped his arms around you and for the first time in a long while, you knew you had exactly what you wanted. “Now can I finish dressing your hand?”
“Fine. As long as you promise to stop worrying about me so much.”
“I could promise that, but I’d be lying.”
“Oh, whatever.”
#peter parker#tony stark#peterparkerxreader#peter parker x you#tom!peter parker#tomholland#tom!peter parker x reader#spiderman#tom!spiderman#spiderman x reader
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This is a question from @crippled-lavender 's cripple ask game!
6.] what’s the best part about being physically disabled?
Um, I don't know, really. I like being able to customize my mobility aids, and it always seems to connect with people in a cool way, so I like that. It seems to ease up the abled people who don't feel like they have a way to connect with me otherwise, and it opens up communication with other disabled people, too.
I have a little so called 'scary person' privilege at times (actually probably the reverse of helpful when it comes to being disabled, but it is what it is) so people don't usually ask me as invasive questions as 'nice' seeming disabled people, and when I'm using mobility aids and AAC they usually don't comment to or about me like they normally used to, either. So although it's awful and shouldn't be this way, sometimes I do like the fact that people refuse to look at me. At least they're not looking at me with hate, for once.
Even if they're pretending not to see me at all. I can be hated with purpose, that's not so bad. Hated for no reason (because I'm a cripple, because I'm 'in the way' (go the fuck around me Karen, I can't go around you) because of my clothes or my accommodations or hair or mods) that's all fucking bullshit I can't stand.
Disclaimer: I never have gotten asks (that haven't been personal attacks) so I just enjoy answering the questions. Please keep in mind the original post specifies that crippled (physically disabled only) are invited to use the specific questions.
#asks and replies#cpunk#cripple punk#physically disabled#cripple life#connecting with people about music and media is life though#I'll never get tired of that#I hope#anyway
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Accommodations
@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt “on the edge”
This had not been in Crowley’s plans for the day. He was supposed to be enjoying the warm weather, ideally by causing some traffic congestion and irritating people into coming up with horrible ideas of their own. A little light entertainment on the job.
Unfortunately, that required being able to move. Right now, he was on the edge of screaming in pain. Any serious movement, the sort required to get to his Bentley, would push him right over the edge.
He ground his teeth, staring at his mobile. It taunted him from the coffee table. To get it, he would need to lean forward, reach out. And if he tried that…
Crowley wasn’t quite sure if people—or demons—ever passed out from neck pain, but he was definitely sure he didn’t wanna find out.
Plus, it wasn’t just his neck. That was the worst of it, a steady smolder that had morphed into a supernova last time he moved. It sprawled out from there, trails of fire running down into all his limbs. His whole body tingled and burned, actually, and he had no damn clue what to do about it.
Could get drunk. But that would be hard to do, even if he miracled a drink to himself. He’d need to move his arms, probably tilt his head back.
He tried it, raised his chin, and yelped at the explosion in his spine. Tears burned his eyes, and his stomach lurched.
Okay. Nope. Drinks were probably out. So were any sort of painkillers, although those were pretty ineffective at soothing his misbehaving corporation anyway. A heating pad might help, but he couldn’t put one on.
Which meant his only real option was asking for help.
Crowley sighed, glaring at his mobile as much as he could manage without moving his head. “Call Aziraphale,” he said, desperately hoping that none of his plans had interfered with the mobile network again this time. Right now, he was foggy enough from pain that he couldn’t remember.
The phone rang a few times, echoing through his empty flat, and then picked up. “I’m afraid we’re closed for the day, doing, um… inventory. Do call back another—”
“Don’t you fucking dare hang up on me.”
“Crowley? That’s awfully rude, even for you. Are you all right?”
He definitely was not, but asking for help still chafed at him. “Nnnh. Hey. Sorry. Er.”
“That’s not very informative, my dear.”
“Sorry,” he said again. “I… fucked up my neck. Dunno how. Maybe moved just wrong.” Even talking was making the pain worse, each movement of his jaw sending a fresh stab of pain. “Can’t, er…”
“Oh, you poor fellow. I’ll be right over, how’s that?”
Before Crowley could reply, Aziraphale materialized out of thin air in front of him. Crowley gritted his teeth hard, battling against the startle reflex. If he jumped right now, he’d definitely scream. “Hi.”
Aziraphale looked him over, eyes wide. “Oh dear. You look absolutely horrible.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s your neck?” Aziraphale moved behind him, gently settling his fingers against Crowley’s spine. “Does touch hurt?”
“Nuh.” Actually, Aziraphale’s warmth felt good. “Thought about… heating pad. Or alcohol. Or something. But I can’t move enough to get any of that.”
“Oh, how awful. Here, let’s see…” The plump fingers moved in slow, careful circles. “Would you like to try a spot of very light massage, just to see if we can get you to relax? You’re awfully tense.”
“M’ tense because my neck is on fire.” But that did sound amazing. “Can you? Sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize, my dear.” Aziraphale settled both hands on his shoulders, thumbs stroking in an even rhythm. “I don’t mind at all. In fact, you could even say I’m doing my job by helping.”
Crowley snorted. “Lucky. I was gonna do my job by cutting off lots of other drivers.”
“Well, perhaps later,” Aziraphale said kindly.
Probably not later. When the pain flared up like this, best thing to do was to stay in the flat, try to rest. Even if Aziraphale could get him mobile again, he wasn’t going anywhere today.
The massage did feel terrific, though. Slow and careful, Aziraphale’s strong hands achingly gentle. Working at the taut muscles with a delicacy that didn’t cause any pain at all. Crowley closed his eyes, drifting.
He could even breathe now, and the burning pain diminished a tiny bit. Finally, Aziraphale ran a light stroke across his hair. “How’s that, my dear? Better?”
“Yeah, thanks.” Bracing for it to explode again, Crowley rolled his shoulders just a little. Then he winced. “Ow. At least I can move now.”
“Yes, movement is certainly an improvement. Where do you keep your heating pad? And would you like tea?”
Crowley provided directions, said yes to tea and threw in a hopeful word for scotch, then shifted a little in his armchair. A fresh blaze seared down his spine, and he stopped moving again before it got too bad. But at least he’d managed to move enough that he wouldn’t fuck up his hips from staying in the same position for too long.
“Here we are, my dear.” Aziraphale settled the heating pad around his shoulders without plugging it in. It was already at the perfect temperature, enough that Crowley groaned with relief. “And your tea. And your scotch. What would you like first?”
“Scotch.”
Aziraphale pulled a small, square table right up against the armchair and set down the tea. Then he put a straw in Crowley’s scotch glass, beamed at him, and held it up. “Here, take a sip.”
Crowley glared. “Are you joking?”
“I highly suspect it’ll be less painful.”
It was definitely less painful, albeit embarrassing. Asking for help was embarrassing too, or so he’d thought. But honestly, letting Aziraphale fuss over him was turning out to be pretty great.
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I havent! I keep forgetting to, but i really want to!
OUGH YEAH?? im looking idk if ive seen that one, ive seen the squid the dragon and the crocodile
UM???? YEAH ITS FUN BUT ALSO HELLO??? 😳😳😳😳 ozone poisoning.... im looking disrespectfully
Yeah????
OH THIS PHOTO LOOKS FANTASTIC!!! THATS SO SO COOL 👀👀👀🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️ thank you sm for sharing!! Ive also only gotten this one, unfortunately but its very very cool
Aw thank you very much!!
OUGH YES THANK U VERY MUCH i will use them :]]]
Thank you also!! Im rly glad ppl like it, I will keep polishing it up until its perfect! Its been so so so long since i changed color themes on mobile haha
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https://at.tumblr.com/hshouse/um-not-to-be-insane-but-the-arm-and-where-he-broke/4k2nonrn1fe9
look I‘m not even a larrie or a conspiracy theorist but the timing of Harry deciding to act human again and this accident of Louis and him actually posting about it as well makes me 👀 this is the biggest coincidence, larrybaiting on Harry’s team end or …
Totally awkward random lol
I feel just awful for Louis, though. I broke my arm in almost the exact same place. That type of break is hard to heal on its own because you can’t really keep it immobilized due to shoulder and elbow movement. If it hasn’t already happened, I’m guessing surgery is imminent to place screws/rod. I have a plate and an ugly scar. Then he’ll probably have to do rehab to restore mobility and strength. It really sucks when it’s your dominant arm because you don’t realize how hard it is to do things with your non-dominant hand/arm until you have no other choice. Writing, getting dressed, eating, and personal hygiene all become pretty difficult.
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