#'so he could fix the shitty writing' i WILL say that there's a reason one lasted 15 years while the other lasted one

[aliusfrater]

i didn't know they were still in denial

[gor3-hound]

teachers pet

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+content, dub-con, pussy spanking, spanking, degradation, milddd brat taming, teacher x student relationships (age gap, but reader is in college), p in v, pull-out method, cum eating

a/n: i have been really struggling to write recently, so i hope you guys still like this :3 i um... hate it sorry it's not that good... writer's block is so shitty rn. feedback is appreciated !!

word count: 1.3k words

Leon finds you infuriating at the best of times. Sitting at the front of the lecture hall, giggling as you look at your phone. You never pay attention to his lectures - he doesn't understand why you even bother to show up.

You're not even subtle about ignoring him. The least you could do is try and hide in the back like the rest of his students who don't give a fuck.

To make matters worse, your grades are actually decent. Nothing to write home about, but you always turn his assignments in on time, and you've never failed to get a passing mark. If you failed, at least you'd flunk out of his class, and he wouldn't have to put up with your shit anymore.

It's like you want to get a rise out of him.

He's sick of it. He's sick of you. He retired and took on teaching college kids in the hopes he'd finally have some time to relax, but you seemed to enjoy making his life a living hell. He'd had enough of it. As you're packing up once he dismisses the class, he makes his way to your desk, his footsteps echoing across the lecture hall.

“Not you, miss. I need to have a word with you. Please come to my desk once you're packed up.” He tells you, tapping two fingers against your desk as he leans in to speak before he's returning to sit at the desk at the front of the hall.

You let out an exaggerated groan at his words, shoving your laptop into your backpack before begrudgingly making your way over to him. Your bag is slung over one shoulder, hanging precariously off to the side.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

“That's right.” He says with a slight nod of his head, gesturing for you to take the seat across from him. He leans back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other as he waits for you to sit.

“I'm going to be honest. You've gained my attention, however it's been for all the wrong reasons. You're smart enough. I'm sure if you applied yourself to this course, you'd get top marks. Is there something I can do to help? Is it a motivation issue? Something at home?”

“Well, if I'm being honest, sir. I thought when I chose this elective, it'd be more interesting. Your lectures are, like… seriously boring.” You say with a smirk that makes it clear you're just trying to frustrate him further.

“I'm seriously getting sick of your attitude.” He bites out, leaning forward against his desk. His eyes are narrowed and locked onto your own. “You can drop an elective. It will have no effect on your main course of study. Why are you still here?”

“It's fun to annoy you, sir.” Is your response, a shit-eating grin spreading across your face.

That's it. Leon is a patient man. He'd tried his best to help you. To figure out what the issue was so he could fix it. But you? Everything about you made him want to rip his hair out.

“Stand up.” He hisses, the feet of his chair screeching against the hardwood floor as he pushes it back suddenly before standing, stalking his way to your side of the desk. You don't stand, crossing your arms as you lean back in the chair.

“I said, stand up!” He repeats, gripping you by the arm and tugging you to your feet. He presses down harshly on your shoulders, forcing you to bend over his desk. “You want to act like an unruly child? Fine. I'll treat you like one.”

“You can not be serious.” You grit out, moving to straighten back up before your chest is forced against the surface of the desk once more with a strong hand pushing down on your back, right between your shoulder blades. “Jesus. I always knew you were a fucking freak.”

“This could all have been avoided if you weren't such a brat.” He hisses, raising your skirt to expose the curve of your ass. You hear him snort, bunching up the fabric of your panties and yanking them upwards harshly, making the fabric bunch up between your lips in a wedgie. It draws a whine from your lips, your brows furrowing as you drop your cheek against his desk.

“Fucking slut. Is that why you're acting up in my class, hmm? You want attention? Prancing around in those tiny skirts, skimpy panties like these underneath ‘em?” He lets go of your panties, sliding them down your thighs before smacking his flattened fingers repeatedly against your pussy until it runs hot, dripping all over his skin.

“Fuck… fuck off.” You say through gritted teeth, your mouth twitching downwards as he continues to spank your pussy. You bite down on your tongue, trying to prevent any noises from spilling past your lips.

He pinches your clit harshly between his thumb and forefinger, giving it a little yank. He grins at the sound of your whimper and the way you jerk away from him, letting out a low chuckle. “What was that, sweetheart?”

You hear the sound of a belt buckle and the shuffling of fabric, which is enough to send a shiver running down your spine. You swallow the lump in your throat, suddenly feeling your confidence drain from you. When you speak, your voice is almost a whisper. “Mr. Kennedy…”

“Oh? You finally learning to keep that mouth shut?” He grunts, running his tip teasingly up and down between your folds, letting his cock catch on your hole just to see you jump. “Trying to pretend you're not a filthy slut, but your cunt is crying for me...”

He presses forward with a low groan, burying himself to the hilt inside of you. His cock throbs as your walls tighten around him, his fingers digging painfully into the fat of your hips as he starts to fuck into you, his pelvis pummelling against your ass with every shift of his hips.

“Greedy.” He scolds, smacking your ass harshly, and once more just to hear the way you whimper when his hand connects with your flesh. “She's sucking me right in. Know this is what you've been wanting… shoulda asked, sweetheart. Pretty sluts like you always get what they want.”

“Perfect pussy… squeezing me so tight.” He groans, thrusting deeper into your cunt, pulling you back onto his cock and angling his hips so he's bumping against your sweet spot every time he bottoms out. He fucks you with deep, hard strokes, letting you feel the drag of every inch of his thick cock inside of you.

“Ah, that's right. Just need to fuck the brattiness out of you, hmm? Goooood fucking girl. Gonna… gonna make me cum.” He says through gritted teeth, slipping a hand down to circle a thumb around your clit. You babble helplessly as he touches you, nothing but ‘please’s and ‘sir's spilling past your lips. He almost cums inside of you when he feels your clenching around him as your orgasm hits, but he's not too pussydrunk to release how stupid it'd be to get his student knocked up, so he pulls out quickly and coats your ass in his cum.

“You gonna be a good girl for me now?” He asks, dropping to his knees behind you, his tongue darting out to lick his cum off of you. The sensation has you shivering, but you nod weakly at his question. He pulls your panties up, straightening out your skirt before patting your butt and going to sit at his desk once more, as if nothing's happened. “Good. That's good.”

“Come see me after class tomorrow, babe. Gotta make sure the lesson really sinks in.”

[unlosts]

Hi! I love your work! I saw that you had requests open, so could I request something with Hotch and the reader having to share a room for a case? I'm a sucker for awkward moments and pining so could this be like pre-relationship? And maybe the reader has to ask for a shirt or sweatpants because their own pajamas aren't very appropriate.

Thank you! ❤️ (feel free to ignore it if you don't want to write it)

Thank you for the request!

Word count: Just slightly over 2k.

A/N: MDNI! not super anything but I would feel better lol. Also the ending is me chickening out, but I don't rule out a part 2 either.

“Overbooked?” You ask the concierge in disbelief. 

“I’m afraid so, it means that, unfortunately the hot-” He starts with an apologetic twist of his mouth, but you put a hand up to cut him off, already feeling a migraine beginning to form. 

“I know what it means” You say exasperated. In the short run from the car to the hotel the storm had soaked your clothes making them stick to you uncomfortably, the heat of the lobby doing absolutely nothing to fight back the chill seeping into your bones. 

Your soaking wet duffel bag hangs heavy on your shoulder forming a small ring of water on the red carpet. The people in line behind you huffing in impatience not helping matters at all. 

A drop of water running from the back of your neck through your spine made you shiver uncomfortably. 

The combined feeling of discomfort and exhaustion is making your patience run thin, and the realization that you had no place to sleep tonight was about to bring you to tears in front of the obnoxious family of four right behind you. 

“Don’t you guys have like another hotel or something nearby?” You ask, already knowing the answer by the look of pity the concierge shots you. 

“ma’am I’m sorry but -” 

Before you can cut him off once more you feel a warm palm softly touch your arm, and Hotch appears right by you. Your shoulders drop in relief knowing he’ll fix it. The thought feels silly, It’s not as if Hotch can build you another room but for some reason you’re sure that he’ll find a work around. 

“Is there an issue here?” He asks, his stature and still pristine, and somehow dry, suit more imposing than the drenched racoon look you ended up with. 

“As I was telling her there was a mix up with the reservations and, unfortunately, we don’t have an available room for her” The concierge - Paul - says probably feeling just as relieved as you are to be talking to Hotch. 

“Not here” Paul keeps going before Hotch can ask “nor in any of our other nearby branches. It’s the National Taxidermists Association Convention” He adds with an awkward smile. 

“Did you hear that? I may not have a room but the dead and stuffed deer certainly does” You add unhelpfully. 

“I understand” Hotch says before turning back to you and softly guiding you towards the side  “It’s alright, we’ll just rearrange the rooms” 

“It’s eleven PM, besides Pen said everyone got their own room tonight so it’s not like anyone will have the space” You say petulantly before looking back at him, already apologetic for snapping. 

“I'm sorry, my duffle got ruined because I bought this shitty one instead of my usual so everything's probably soaked, I feel like this shirt is painted on and I'm pretty sure one of the creepy taxidermists was checking me out so I'm honestly not having the greatest night.” 

You were all there for a negotiation seminar, which in hindsight made the fact that a dead squirrel got a room before you more humiliating. 

Hotch only looks at you patiently “it's alright” he repeated, briefly touching your shoulder “We can just share my room” 

Suddenly self conscious, the last thing you wanted was to put him out when all he probably wanted to do was talk to Jack and pass out, alone, in his own room. But he must have read it on your face because before you could make up an excuse he picks up your go bag and adds “It would make me feel better knowing you're near by and not in some motel, especially tonight.” 

As if to back him up, thunder suddenly struck, loud and impossible to ignore. 

“Okay,” you agree, going for the elevator “but you're not taking the couch” 

“Am I that transparent?” He asks as you both wait for the doors to open, along with some of the other guests and their suspiciously big suitcases. You try really hard not think of what's in them. 

“Sorry, it's the whole Connecticut WASPy manners thing, you’d probably rather get a creek on your neck sleeping on the floor just because it's more polite” You say with a shrug of your shoulder. 

Before he could reply the doors opening, everyone flooding in making you press your back against Hotch, his arm went to your waist to keep you steady after a man not much older than you almost rolled his suitcase over your feet. 

The heat of him behind you and his hand on your front made your stomach clench, it took all of your willpower not to lean back, the thought of him pressing up against you makes your eyes close briefly, his chest almost touching your back with every breath.

It feels like hours pass before you can step into the hallway keenly aware of Hotch just a step behind you. 

Stepping into the room the first thing you notice is the queen sized bed, the plush  hotel comforter drawing you in. You discard your shoes somewhere by the closet, uncaring of where they land.

“You can take the first shower” Hotch says, entering leaving both of your bags by the door “better warm up before you catch a cold” The thought feels entirely caring and entirely Hotch but the suggestion brings a more pressing issue to the front of your mind.

“um” you say, widening your eyes at the realization that you have nothing to wear “everything I have is soaked, like fresh out the washer before the dryer kind of soaked, you don't happen to have a spare set of pj's in there do you?” 

He doesn't reply, just goes over to his bag and hands you a small pile of clothing “you go ahead, I'll go down with your clothes and see if laundry service is still open, wouldn't want you showing up tomorrow in a hotel bathrobe” he says with a smile and before you can protest he's off with your duffle bag. Leaving you alone with this uncomfortable feeling in your chest. 

Once inside the bathroom you go through the clothing, the first thing you pick up from the pile is a threadbare dark blue GWU sweatshirt, soft in a way only a well loved item can be, and you can't help but take the collar up to your nose and taking in the fresh laundry smell and the remnants of his cologne still lingering in the fabric.

By the time you come out, swimming in his sweatshirt and a pair of too long sweatpants, toweling your hair, Hotch is back sans your bag, laying back in bed on the side closest to the door. Surfing through static after static channel on the TV, his head pillowed on the back of his arm. 

“There goes movie night, I guess” you joke walking over to the bed “which side of the bed do you want”

Without getting up he says “this one’s fine” 

At that you snort “that's such a guy thing” 

“Sorry?” 

“The whole sleeping next to the door in case someone comes in” 

“You say that now but by the time a guy in a deer mask comes through the door you'll be glad I picked it” 

“well how chivalrous of you” You smile at him leaning on the bathroom door. 

He smiles back lopsided and a little boyish, his dimples peeking through “It’s those pesky WASP manners rearing their head.”

Hotch looks back at you for a moment from his side of the bed “I hope the shirt is comfortable”

“It’s great, thanks” 

He clears his throat “It suits you”

Warmth spreads from the tips of your fingers all the way up your chest where a pleasant weight settles. 

You sit criss crossed next him to change the channel to something watchable before your mouth wins over your brain and you say something stupid. As you reach over him, fishing for the remote on the nightstand you miscalculate and your hand slips on the bed sheets, toppling you over on top of him, leaving you nose to nose. Close enough to count his eyelashes. 

You quickly sit back up but upon your haste you both move up at the same time, falling back into him as your hands find purchase in his chest. You feel the rise and fall of every breath he takes, the thrum of his heart matching yours. Your eyes lock again as his hands circle your waist to keep from falling from the bed and into the floor. 

“Shit” You whisper “I’m so sorry Hotch” But it’s hard to be when you’re encased in his arms, feeling the muscle of his chest underneath your fingertips as his big, calloused hands burn a mark on your back. 

“It’s alright” He says in a tone matching your own. 

With his help you sit back up and he hands you the remote you were looking for. Tucking an errand strand of hair behind your ear you put on a random channel. 

A black and white movie plays on in the background as you look at him, the faint glow from the TV casting moving shadows across his face, suddenly highlighting his strong brow or straight nose. 

Your breathing matches his, suddenly the low light of the bedside lamp reminds you of candlelight, a gossamer filter cast over you. 

As you’re about to speak, not really knowing what you were actually going to say he breaks the silence first  by standing up and heading to the bathroom to shower.  

It feels impossible to know Hotch, what he’s thinking or feeling, you want to unspool his thoughts, display them out like a film reel for your viewing pleasure. Know him as intimately as you sometimes feel he knows you. 

You’re  settled back in bed, still lost in thought, by the time the water cuts off he comes out in plaid blue pants and a white t-shirt smelling like soap  fresh laundry. His hair still damp and shirt collar askew like he dressed in a hurry. 

Hesitating for a few seconds before peeling back the covers and getting in, his body heat right next to you, a contrast against your cold skill, the cold never having left you. Immediately making you shiver despite the thicker sweatshirt. 

Hotch clears his throat again, more out of embarrassment from what he’s about to do, and it’s odd to see him like this. You’re used to seeing him be sure of himself, unflinching in the face of murderers, government officials and incensed police captains alike. 

It’s an alien feeling seeing him blush, or hesitate before speaking, it only serves to deepen your fondness for him, it makes you want to lean in and press a kiss against his heated cheek. 

He opens his arm in a silent invitation, you curl yourself sideways against him, your cold nose pressing against his neck as his warm hands trail up and down your back in what began an attempt to warm you back up. The lazy movement up and down meant to lull you to sleep, is instead sending shivers down your spine. 

“Better?” Hotch asks. 

“Much, thank you” You reply, resting your ear against his chest. 

You don’t say anything else but let your hand trail up his stomach, feel the muscles softly clench underneath your hand before letting it rest there and look up to see his eyes closed and his lips parted. As if he could feel your gaze on him he opens his eyes still panting. 

Hotch looks at you with a questioning gaze, the certainty in yours seeming like the only answer he needs. 

His hand is a gentle weight on the back of your neck draws you in until your nose to nose, lips a breath away from touching. His thumb caresses your cheekbone back and forth, clouding your senses until you have tunnel vision, the room fades away and all you can see is him. You nose trails his for a moment as your forehead presses together, your hand coming up to touch his jaw. 

“We shouldn’t ” He says, breath fanning against your lips while his eyes close briefly. 

“No, we should not” You reply, but neither make a move to part. 

“What should we do then?” 

“You should tell me goodnight” 

“Goodnight, then” He says and his deep voice reverberates under your hand still perched on his chest. You lean down and leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth as his breath stutters. 

Before you can pull off of him his hand draws you back in finally kissing you. Time stops existing right then, the kiss is hungry but unhurried, Hotch is patient and tender as he rolls you over resting your head against his forearm.

Your breathing's labored as you part “See now we really should go to sleep”  You say breathlessly, chest heaving up and down. 

“We absolutely should,” He says teasingly. 

[normansnt]

Shitty day

(Hazbin Vox x Fashionista!Male reader)

No warnings maybe some foul language.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To say Vox was annoyed was an understatement. Val was bitching about something again and Velvette was on phone calls the whole day yelling in every. single. one of them. And when the clients she was yelling too still didn't budge she went to whine to Vox.

All in all Vox had a headache the whole fucking day that even a reboot couldn't fix. He knew what he needed. He needed you.

You were one of the most valuable people at Velvette's fashion boutique second in command after her. And since you made a shit ton of money for the whole company Vox noticed you. Oh, he noticed you every time he visited Velvette he saw you delicately dancing in between shelves of fabric needles is your mouth needle pillow on your wrist and a thimble on your finger.

You moved so magnificently among the many unfinished pieces you started, he couldn't help but watch. It was like water flowing between rocks but you sometimes stopped here and there to make an adjustment on a dress or suit.

Velvette of course noticed this, she notices everything.

"Jesus fuck, just go talk to 'im he is gay if thats what you're wondering of course he is he works in fashion. Or what do I care just move your ogling elsewhere."

And that he did.

He flirted with you, and to his surprise you flirted back. Not because he didn't think he had a chance he knew he was a handsome fellow but most people seeing him cower in fear. You didn't.

He liked you. He liked you a lot.

This was about 4 months ago.

Now its a habit that he visits you almost every day after work. Since then, you have gotten your private office so you guys had privacy.

You're usually still working on a piece or two when he walks in back hunched smile gone and he falls face first into your couch.

Today was the same he was even massaging his temples.

You noticed that today was a particularly hard day for him so you left to get some coffee.

When you returned he was still in the same position. You chuckled to yourself quietly. You loved the relationship you two had. Now, you weren't exactly a couple (yet) but you were the one he trusted with opening up. You were his safe place, and even if his day was good you were the first one he would tell the good news, or if his day was not good nor bad just an average day he still came to you to calmly watch you work while you guys talked.

You lifted his screen up sat down on the couch and put it on your thighs. You two were very comfortable with each other this was nothing. He turned around so he could look up at you.

"I made you coffee" you lifted the mug while smiling at him. He smiled slightly. Fuck, he loved you so much.

"Please be my boyfriend."

Vox blurted out without sitting up. He was just laying in your lap looking up at you hopefully.

You chuckled quietly and instead of answering him just bent down to kiss him. Vox eagerly returned the favor.

"I'd love to be your boyfriend" you answered after you two parted. Vox sighed with contempt as you intervened your fingers with his. Even though it was a shitty day, and there will come shitty days, you'll be here with him. Those days don't even seem so shitty anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I know its short but its sweet so I kinda love it.

I need to write much more for Vox cuz honestly I fucking love him but for some reason ideas usually hit me for Alastor😭

Also I'm a true believer that under that big-shot TV persona he is a broken little boy and actually really sweet so😎

ANYWAYS

I hope you enjoyed your reading, ladies gentleman and others, good afternoon good evening and good night🧡🦖

[kingconia]

POMEFIORE WHEN THEY NOTICE THAT THEIR S/O HAS SHITTY FRIENDS

Vil Schoenheit.

— It takes some time from him to realise it. Not because he is stupid or anything, but he is always so busy, spending time solely with you, and you always say good things about them, so;

— But as soon as he spots you with them on some school event, he starts to understand something is really wrong. Why would they say all these sarcastic remarks? Especially, if you seem to be uncomfortable? He is furious;

— At first, he will have a talk with you. He just needs to make sure that you understand how toxic they are, and that they are really-really wrong. If you don't see that, or for some reason agree with them, he is sad and disappointed in himself for not noticing it earlier;

— ”Ah, my sweet potato, how could you think so bad of yourself? Just look at yourself in the mirror for a minute! Look at how charming you are. How I love every part of you...”

— Starts praising you more often! He is quite reserved on the public, but he clearly tries to do something good for you. Might pull out a complements on your ear quietly, when you see each other in school;

— ”Oh, who is this pretty lady is?” ”Ah, I am sorry that I bumped in you, darling. I just couldn't tear my eyes from you...”

— Once again, as Vil is busy and aloof, he will not call your fake friends out personally. But he will make sure that some measures were taken. And that they know that their single word against you will cost them so much. Especially, if they are from Pomefiore;

— Live, laugh, Vil Schoenheit.

Rook Hunt.

— Oh, of course he knows that. Rook spends half of time hunting down objects of his interest, but most of the time his eyes glued to you. Even if you don't realise;

— He hears everything. And he sees everything, too. There is no way to fool this man;

— He is immediately furious. But Rook's rage is different from most of the people; his rage is quiet, cold, and slightly... Delirious. But no one can hurt you, physically or emotionally, and he makes sure that others will know that;

— Firstly, though, Rook needs to make sure that you are not affected by their attitude. Whatever they are shitty for—making toxic remarks about your appearance, leaving you out constantly, or something else—Rook will make everything better;

— This man is literally kissing the ground you are walking on. No insecurity under his roof! No-no. If you ask him, he surely can become your servant, even. But you don't, so he continues to adore you in his own ways;

— But that I mean writing poetry about you and declaring it publicly, so everyone would now how loved you are. Gifting you small—or not really—tokens every day. Writing little notes of what it reminded about you. Ah, he can even spoil you with food and sweets! Anything you want, really;

— And regarding your friends... He will take care of it personally. In his own ways. Which can be extreme, but don't worry! They are alive, just frightened! But at least they apologised, right?..

— ”Don't worry, ma belle catastrophe. I will always keep you safe!”

Epel Felmier.

— He is quite observant, and you spent a lot of time together, so, of course, he notices that something is really wrong;

— He can't believe his eyes, though, when he realises how your friends threat you. For him, you are the most supportive and kind person in the world, and perfectly charming. He can't understand how anyone could ignore you, let alone brush you off constantly;

— Epel fully concentrates on fixing your mental state. He knows how bad it feels, to be dawned by insecurities. And he is not a perfect speaker, but he tries really hard to explain you how he sees your situation, how bad are your friends are;

— He is aware that he is not that impressive and scary as others, which means he can't scare off your fake friends. But Epel is smarter and more cunning;

— He uses what he has to make your friends pay for what they had done to you, uwu!

— He either will make sure that Rook or Vil will do something about that—he might dislike his house and housewardens, but, hey, they are useful—or ask to help his other friends. I mean, just pulling in this Jack would be already enough, but if anything, he has these two idiots from Heartslabyul to do something with it. You will not even notice! He is with you all the time, after all;

— ”Please, never forget that you are not alone anymore, and never will be! I am here for you.”

[infoglitch]

I think the reason I connect to Jaune of all characters is because I can relate to the feeling of inadequacy. Ofcourse the character isn't perfect and I get why people just don't like him but I can't agree. Ofcourse that's just a shitty opinion and of course obviously my opinions are garbage. Any way my glazing aside-

Ok I know normally this is a really small (even compared to the shitposts) Rwby shipping post buuut-

A chat

Setting: jaune is currently helping Weiss move into her temporary apartment.

Jaune: hey Weiss?

Weiss turned to look at jaune as she hummed. She held a box in her hands before setting it down a stack of boxes.

Weiss: hmm?

Jaune: if you were sent back in time and put in our beacon, would you still.. you know dislike me during that time?

Weiss: well depends, would it just be me or would all of us be sent back?

Jaune: just you.

Weiss: hmm.. well id certainly still be annoyed with you. But I wouldnt be.. as harsh as my younger self. I would tell you to stop flirting and just try being friendly with me and then see how that goes.

Jaune: huh.. alright then. anything else outside of me?

Weiss: well this ones obvious, tell pyrrha to ask you out. Atleast then I wouldn't be annoyed. And apologize to Blake profusely for a lot of the things I said.. and ofcourse make sure to check in on ruby.

The room went quiet as jaune simply nodded.

Jaune: so-

Weiss: jaune, since you did ask that I think It's only fair that I ask you a question.

Jaune: huh, that seems fair. Fire away.

Weiss turned around fully to face him.

Weiss: if you went back in time.. what would you do?

Jaune: let's see, I would try harder in my classes, I'd have enough with Cardin's bullshit a lot earlier.. and I'd be honest with my team and you guys.. outside of that I'd stop flirting with you.. I got a lot of things I wish I could fix.

Weiss: but obviously.. what's happened, has happened.

Jaune: no going back.

Weiss: speaking of no going back, since we've finished up for today I say we go visit Ruby.

Jaune: alright then, you sure I should come with? It's.. been awhile since me and her actually talked.

Weiss: I think it do you both good.

Jaune just simply nodded as he amd Weiss soon walked out the front door but not before-

Jaune: hey Weiss.. thanks for putting up with me

Weiss: your welcome.. and your not that annoying anymore. Besides, outside of that, your a good friend.

END

When I check to see the reblogs I better see "WE ARE SO BACK" (kidding obviously I'm not that good at writing fics)

..you mothafuckers-

[countryclubkook]

Him or Me

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x fem!Thornton!Reader

Warnings: language, topper being a slight asshole, small mention of parent death and absent parent, not proof read so potential grammatical errors, slightly ooc/fanon Rafe I think that’s all but please let me know if there’s anymore I should add

Summary: when Topper finds out his best friend Rafe is secretly dating his sister behind his back, all hell breaks loose. Will they be able fix their relationship? Or will the betrayal be too much to recover from?

A/N: This is the first story i’ve written in months so i’m still a little rusty. I wanted to get something out though to get back into the groove of things. Italicized means flashback, this also is meant to take place in season 1 after Sarah and John B are together so I hope you all enjoy🤍 I left the ending of this slightly open for a potential part two if people want it/I decide to write one (Topper is 19 and reader is 18 for the sake of this story, Rafe is his canon age in the show)

“You know I’ll take care of you right?” he spoke with such certainty. How could you not believe him?

It was never supposed to be this way, you and your brother's best friend being together, but when he gave you those bedroom eyes and whispered those sweet nothings in your ear how could you resist? The both of you kept it a secret from Topper as long as you could knowing his overprotective nature when it came to you. He had found out when he saw the two of you kissing at the country club, that was a bad night for the three of you.

“My fucking sister dude? Are you kidding me? You could have any girl on this island but you go after my sister?” the vein on his neck popping out as he screamed at Rafe. Neither of you had expected him to be home, let alone for him to be waiting in the living room for you two to come back. As soon as Rafe stepped into the door he was thrown against the wall by his neck, a very angry Topper staring at him with pure hatred.

“Topper stop, let him go. Please.” you pleaded with him but it was no use, his grip stayed the same and he acted as if you weren't there. They were in their own world at that moment.

“Fucking relax man, I chose her for a reason. I love her, and you're not going to stop me from seeing her. So if you're going to hit me and tell me to stay away from her, do it so we can get this over with.” he was visibly annoyed by this as his tone confirmed it. Sure they were friends, but you meant more to Rafe than anyone else so your big brother trying to prevent your relationship was simply just an inconvenience that had no real effect at all.

The two men stared at each other for a moment, nostrils flaring and veins so visible you were getting concerned about their health. It wasn't until Topper let go of Rafe with a small scoff that you felt you could breathe again. You've never felt more shitty in your whole life than you did when Topper looked at you with such betrayal and hurt. He just shook his head and stormed out of the house, the front door slamming behind him.

“Are you okay? I'm so sorry, I didn't know he would be here” you say as you rush over to him and examine his neck that was now red (and would inevitably bruise) from the grip Topper had on it. He watched as you examined him with such worry and such a gentle touch that it reminded him yet again why he was with you, that you were worth whatever argument ensued because you showed him love nobody else would.

“Baby, I'll be fine. I'm more worried about you being okay than my neck.” grabbing the sides of your face and forcing you to look at him. Your eyes were glossy with tears and your breathing slightly uneven. Your relationship with Topper was different than the one Rafe had with his sisters, it had always just been the two of you since you were growing up. Your dad had died when you were babies and your mom was a piece of shit who was never around so that left the two of you to protect and raise each other. Hurting him felt like the biggest stab in the chest and you felt terrible.

“I-” your sobs overpowered your voice before you could finish as you broke down in your lover's arms. His shushed comfort helped bring you some peace but not nearly enough to stop the feeling in your chest from growing. He had moved you over to the couch and held you in his lap until your cries eventually stopped and your breathing remained calm.

“Baby?” he asked quietly in case you had fallen asleep. When he got no response, he gently laid you on the couch and covered you with a blanket before kissing your cheek and heading out to find your brother. Rafe was probably the last person he wanted to see but he would try to talk to him for you.

That “talk” didn't go very well. You didn't know what was said, all you know is that Topper came home bloodied and bruised and didn't say a word to you. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together when you saw Rafes bruised knuckles the next day and his excuse was that he “wanted to try boxing without his gloves”. But a few weeks had passed since then and you thought it would be fine, you and Top would go back to normal and eventually he and Rafe would reconcile like nothing ever happened. If only it was that easy.

Topper had grown increasingly hostile toward you when he decided to acknowledge your existence. His responses were always short and snappy like you were the most horrible person to be speaking with. You knew the only way of fixing this was breaking up with Rafe but there was no way in hell you were doing that so you instead just tried to give him space when you could. But one day he decided that ignoring each other wasn't enough, he needed you to know your options.

‘We need to talk’ one text that always has the ability to make your heart race. You stare at it for 10 minutes trying to figure out the right response before you type back a simple ‘Okay’, his next text telling you he’d meet you at the house in ten minutes. You felt like throwing up and your anxiety was through the roof. You knew what he wanted to talk about, that's what made you nervous. It felt like hours had passed when you finally heard the front door open and heavy footsteps approach the kitchen. Your heartbeat had become very quick when he came into your peripheral vision.

“Hi” a simple word used to greet people now had a more hostile meaning behind it. You finally looked up to see him but he was already looking at you. He still had that same look in his eyes he had that day. Betrayal, disgust, anger, every emotion you had hoped you'd never see him have towards you.

“Hi” your voice much smaller as you tried to avoid his hard gaze. An awkward silence passed for a few moments before he finally spoke again. There was clearly no small talk to be made so it was now or never.

“I'm giving you two options, and I never thought I'd have to say this to you of all people but I guess you really can't trust everyone. I understand you think you love Rafe and that he loves you, but you don't know him like me. Rafe Cameron doesn't ever love someone, he uses them to his advantage until he no longer needs them around and then he leaves them in the dirt. I'm not staying around to watch that happen to you so it's him or me.” his voice was stern, there was no hesitation in his words. He meant every last thing he had just told you.

You stared at him for a moment trying to process what you just heard, did he really just give you an ultimatum? You half expected him to laugh and tell you he was just fucking with you, that he was still upset you hadn't told him but as long as you were happy so was he, but that moment never came. Instead, he continued to stare at you with a pierced gaze waiting for your response.

“Are you serious right now Top?” you chuckled in disbelief. There was no way this was happening right now.

“As serious as a heart attack” no hint of amusement in his voice. Your emotion quickly changed from guilt to anger as his words finally registered.

“You have no right to do that. None. Rafe and I do love each other, we don't think that. You don't know our relationship and this was exactly why we didn't want you finding out. I'm not a baby anymore Topper. I'm a big girl and I can make my own decisions about things, including who I date. If that backfires that's on me and I learn from it. You don't get to decide that for me.” your face had turned red and you felt hot. How dare he make you choose between them.

“Y/N you don't understand okay? I know how he works, I've seen it happen. He's only going to hurt you when-” he tried to argue but you cut him off.

“No. You don't understand. He treats me better than anyone else ever has, he makes me feel loved. You don't know anything about love, that's why your girlfriend cheated on you with a fucking pogue.” his face fell at the comment. You knew it was harsh and uncalled for but you were too upset to care.

“Fuck you Y/N. I'm giving you one last chance to make the right choice” you knew he meant that.

“Fine. You want me to choose so badly? I choose him, I'll always choose him.” your breathing was heavy as you yelled at him. There was no taking it back now so you could only hope it didn't end badly for you.

“Okay” he scoffed “just don't come crying to me when he breaks your heart. You mean nothing to me anymore” he spoke with such disgust that it took everything in you not to cry.

“I won't. He's never going to do that to me” you spoke to him with the same voice he had spoken to you. The two of you staring at each other with anger and a look of disbelief that this had happened to you. Topper gave one last shake of his head before going up the stairs to what you thought was his room. It wasn't until you heard a loud thud a few minutes later that you realized he was in yours.

One by one, bags and boxes of your things came flying down the stairs. Topper was standing at the top with his arms crossed and a satisfied look on his face.

“You want to be with him so bad you can go stay with him. I don't want a lying whore living with me.” his words hurt you more than would ever admit but you swallowed your tears and began packing your car with your things, getting in and starting the car to drive to Rafes once the last thing was thrown in.

He hadn't expected to see your text but all he could do was worry when you’d told him you were on your way to him. The only thing comforting him was pacing around the room and thinking of all the ways he could try and help you. He heard your call pull up and almost broke the door getting to you and his heart shattered when he saw you. Tears streamed down your face, eyes red and puffy, you looked destroyed.

As soon as you were in his arms you broke down, the both of you falling to the ground as your sobs echoed in the warm air. The familiar smell of Rafe's cologne made you feel safe, a feeling you hadn't fully felt since Rafe and Topper's fight. It felt like you were finally home and could relax, the war was over and you could just live again.

“Shh baby it's okay, you're safe now. I've got you” he said as he rested his head on top of yours and wrapped his arms around you tightly. There wasn't much that could be said to help you feel better about the situation but knowing you weren't alone did help to make you feel good. Topper was just jealous he didn't have this type of love with Sarah.

You'd finally calmed down enough to unload your things into Rafe's room. Ward adored you so letting you stay with them was absolutely no issue which you were so thankful for.

Hours had passed and your tears had long stopped. You had taken a nice long shower and now you were in bed with Rafe, it felt natural to you. He gave you a small nudge to get your attention and your eyes met his. He had a slight smirk on his face.

“What? Do I have something on my face” your eyes widening slightly worried you had forgotten to wipe some makeup off your face.

“No no it's not that, it's just… I could get used to this you know? It feels right” his voice was much softer now.

“It does, doesn't it? Maybe this whole situation isn't so bad after all” it was very bad, but maybe you could convince yourself otherwise if you said it enough.

Rafe could see you thinking about the situation again despite what you'd just said so he grabbed your face to hold it in place. His eyes never leaving yours for a second.

“You know I'll take care of you right?” and you had no doubt he would, fuck Topper. You just needed Rafe. He would never betray you like Topper, he would never hurt you the way your brother did. He loved you.

“I know” you smiled sweetly at him before giving him a soft kiss, both of you enjoying the moment of peace before pulling away to turn the lights off. Sleep slowly engulfing you as you relaxed into the others touch. This is how it was meant to be.

If only you knew exactly what getting involved with Rafe Cameron would turn into.

[phantomrose96]

hi your short story is giving me absolute brainworms it’s DAMN good. I don’t have anything of real note to add so I’ll just ask: is there anything you really want to say about the story but haven’t yet (like trivia or whatnot)?

(938 Seconds Per Second)

Probably that I'd very nearly abandoned it!

The idea started from an article I was reading about time dilation - the gist of it being "okay but what's to stop you from accelerating infinitely? Up to and past the speed of light?" and the conclusion was kind of "you sort of can... from YOUR frame, from YOUR perception of time, potentially. but from a resting frame, you will appear to only ever approach the speed of light." So even if you could perceive yourself traveling 100 light years in a month... to every resting body, 100 years have passed.

So I was like cool! Fucked up potential! I really liked the concept of "you can notice your mistake after 5 minutes and already be 100 years too late to fix it."

I toyed with a few ideas and ended up gravitating towards "what if one shipmate intentionally leaves another shipmate behind... and by the time this is discovered days later, the left-behind shipmate is long dead." I also settled on "what if your shipmate sucked so bad that he causes you to snap and leave him behind"

So I started writing with that as the core idea. Main character Mendoza has the Worst Coworker in the World Universe, and he snaps and leaves Carson behind on a planet.

...But then I was a little lost. I was struggling with the substance. The "what makes this interesting" and the "what ties this all together." Sure I could just write Carson being an ass for 3,000 words and then... Mendoza leaves him behind the end?

I was even struggling with the first draft because part of me was like "what's even enjoyable about reading about a completely insufferable person...?" Even Mendoza himself is no peach. Maybe the whole concept was just unpalatable. I kinda just... ditched it where it was.

Then I came back to it this weekend and decided to kind of rethink it, fresh. And the absolute biggest difference between the early stumbling draft and what I ended up with was Sampson. He actually solved so much. (He existed in the early draft, but not importantly.) He introduced the character stakes and the tying thread to the story I was missing.

Now it wasn't just Carson annoying Mendoza. Once Sampson's tome enters the story, the stakes change. Mendoza is now in the middle of Carson actively destroying the thing Sampson is even alive for. Mendoza is now in a position of actively needing to make choices--he could intervene and try to save Sampson's tome. He could tattle. He could do anything--but he doesn't. Because "not letting Carson win" is the single most important thing. Mendoza doesn't need to be any kind of hero. He chooses not to be.

And now the reader is captive to this conflict, privy to everything Mendoza knows, and does not act on, as Sampson unravels in the background.

And now we have a thread that leads to Carson and Mendoza ending up on-planet together. Carson isn't out there for shits and giggles, he's out there because the plot point about Sampson's tome led to this. Now Carson knows about the cargo, and now he's offering Mendoza the chance to not just be passive witness, but be accomplice to Sampson's destruction.

And it's enticing. It's unimaginable wealth, and it's getting off the shitty ship, and it's never seeing Carson again. Mendoza has the chance to stick to his every-man-for-himself ideals and go along with Carson. And it's interesting to explore Carson's reasoning for why they deserve this! They're the ones who sacrificed 300 years for this journey! Don't they deserve this over some fucker who wasn't even born when this mission started?

And then it reaches one pivotal moment--Carson's gleeful declaration that Sampson will totally kill himself once he discovers what they've stolen. Because now there are consequences to this action. If Mendoza follows through with this, it's with the knowledge that he's gotten Sampson killed. (And maybe he shouldn't care. Maybe it doesn't matter. As he's asserted this whole time.)

Mendoza doesn't do it. He pulls up the ladder after Carson.

He doesn't let Carson win.

And then the ending... the ending where Sampson very much was witness to Mendoza following Carson out of the ship. If Sampson were every-man-for-himself, he could just comply and tell Major Kensington what he saw. Mendoza knew Carson was outside the ship. Mendoza came back. Carson didn't. The ship took off. Sampson knows this all.

But, Sampson has an idea of what, may, have happened. He knows he accidentally revealed too much to Carson. He knows Carson stole the tome which contains information about the cargo. Sampson, maybe, knows what decision Mendoza made.

So Sampson lies to Kensington. Sampson will swear on his life he never saw Mendoza that evening. No one will ever know.

And just!!! It was delightful to find the piece that ties the WHOLE story through. It's not just "your coworker sucks and you booted him to live out 40 years on a planet for your next 2 weeks". It's character-driven now. It's about choices and consequences and the fucked up implications that the time-dilation travel throws in.

[blubushie]

have u seen/played mouthwashing? thoughts?

I'll be honest I have the tag blocked.

I don't hate the game or nothing, I'm sure it's great, but I look a lot like Curly pre-crash (blue-eyed, blond, with the exact same haircut except Mine's a little longer at the back cuz mullet, hell my fringe even parts the same way) and I'm also a burn victim so I'm sure you can understand my discomfort.

That said it's not really Mouthwashing itself that makes me uncomfortable but rather the fandom around it. From people giving a fucking human being dog buttons and thinking it's funny like he isn't dehumanised enough in the game (and the ableism by Jimmy kinda being a focal point of one of many reasons Jimmy sucks), to people saying Curly DESERVED to be disabled in the crash like disability is a fucking punishment of some kind that people must have earnt, to people saying Anya should keep the baby...

Also as a more-or-less recovering alcoholic (I'm managing ok) who's been desperate enough to drink hand sanitiser for a fix, uh... The whole "drink the mouthwash" thing strikes a bit too close to home. My ability to be tolerant of that aspect varies by the day though. The only shit I can't tolerate is the fandom and how it treats these characters. And yeah I know characters aren't real bla bla bla but I'm not talking about people writing fic or something I'm taking about how the fandom's behaviour is indicative of how they view rape victims and disabled people and people with substance abuse disorders and other marginalised people. You get it.

Oh and also the rampant infantilisation of Daisuke in the fandom like East Asian men aren't infantilised enough.

Or people showing Anya, a fucking nurse, hugging/touching a patient with third degree burn wounds. But that's more the doctor in me bitching about infection and how she's a nurse and would know better.

I think I could bitch for hours about shitty takes I've seen on my dash and all of my bitching pertains only to the fandom and not even the actual game. We're reaching levels of "dislike by association". Which I really try not to do because I think the game can speak for itself but if I see one more untagged Mouthwashing shit take on my dash I'm gonna start putting people in blenders and drinking it.

[kairiscorner]

HEARME OUT 🌼

ive been seeing fics about bad boy x good girl

and i've been seeing novels about hockey players x nerd

YOU ALREADY KNOW WHO I HAVE IN MIND HAHAH ♪(´ε｀*)

he has shitty grades despite being an athletic star so reader tutors him

ITS REALLY SPECIFIC BUT OH YM GO smth abt the bad boy x good girl dynamic does SOMETHING to me ( ≧ᗜ≦)

oH MY GOD ,,, YES PLEASE. LOWKEY WANNA MAKE THIS A SERIES LIKE THE COLLEGE MIGGY ONE HEHEHHEHEHEHEHHE

soccer captain!bad boy!miguel o'hara x nerdy!fem!reader (part 1...?)

the clock mounted on the library wall behind you endlessly ticked all monotonously and rhythmically, ticking you off even more as you tapped your foot against the floorboards impatiently. you knew he was going to have practice after school for an hour and a half, his coach confirmed it with you when you asked–but where the hell was he? you sighed as you shut the book whose contents you were studying closed and began to fix your things and leave–that was, until a loud slam was heard from across the library, which the librarian gave a disgruntled 'shush' for, and the boy of the hour (and the past few) was finally here.

he was all sweaty, his dark, curly locks sweeping over his forehead as he walked over to you and pulled a chair up; slumping into it with a thump, angering the library's patrons and the librarian themselves. you frowned and crinkled your eyebrows at the lack of manners this boy had, and his lack of tact for you taking precious hours out of your day was annoying you beyond belief. "you're late." you reminded him as you folded your arms over your chest. miguel merely chuckled and sat back in his chair. "so what? i'm here now, aren't i?" you grumbled at his cocky response and shook your head gently.

you opened up the book you were reviewing earlier, and before you could even begin to speak, the minute you looked over at miguel, he was napping. with a huff and a look of frustration, you shut the book closed again and leaned over across the table—smacking the top of his head with the book. he mumbled in pain and furrowed his eyebrows at you, looking pissed. "what was that for?" he asked you in a grumble. you opened the book again and reread a few passages. "to wake your lazy ass up." you answered nonchalantly, without even looking up at him. miguel folded his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow at you. "just so you know, i'm carrying the whole school's soccer team by myself—i'm far from lazy." "in soccer, you might not be, but in terms of... academics..." you trailed off, purposefully making miguel knit his eyebrows together again and making him grumble and lean back into his chair. "just don't act like you're any better than me, which you aren't, dork." he mumbled to you as you took a pen and began writing down some notes. "i'm doing no such thing, you himbo of a jock." you replied to him with a little quip.

though as you were writing, miguel's bigger hand wrapped itself around your wrist, prompting you to look up from the book and papers you were holding and up at his hazel brown eyes. they looked soft, maybe a little... bright, even? wait, why were you even noticing these things, you hardly ever spoke to him—the main reason you were even in the same space as this usually loud, crass, crude jock was because he was in a rough position with his grades. his coach suggested you tutor him after school to keep his act together, or else he'd be off the team entirely; what you weren't expecting was him touching you randomly, this wasn't in the agreement. "what?" "thanks... for doing this for me." he muttered to you, looking into your eyes all sweetly; but you weren't falling for it, you knew he had a reputation for making other people swoon for him effortlessly with his words, if he wanted something else from you, he should just say it directly now. "it's not for you, it's extra credit, which i'll be needing eventually." you correct him as you pull away. miguel chuckled at your response. "extra credit? you already tire the teachers too much with all your babbling in class and being bossy in group projects." "success doesn't come easily, o'hara." "oh, trust me... i know." he said with a light smirk as he stared up at you as he propped his chin up on his folded arms on the table.

you whacked his head with the papers this time, and he grumbled again in frustration at how unfunny this whole shtick was becoming to him. the librarian shushed you two as a second warning, and you leaned in close to him to teach him the lessons he missed wasn't listening to because he was busy napping in class in a hushed voice; though you worried he was focusing on... other things while you were teaching him. what kinds of things? oh, you'll see for yourself eventually.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @hearts4gabri @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @fictarian @yuridopted0 @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @fable-library @ophanimgold @smokeywhalee @capnshtfce

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for pile o’ rats, who gave me dealer's choice for the WIP I wanted to write for; Knockout gets knocked up.

“Do you want them?” Superman asks just as gently as before, not taking his hand away. Superboy wants to cry, he thinks. No, he definitely wants to cry. 

“Yeah,” he croaks. “I–even if they're not mine, I just . . . someone's gonna put them in a lab and hurt them, I know they are, I know it, and I–and I just can't let that–let that . . .”

“Alright,” Superman says, and squeezes his shoulder. Superboy chokes again, and it comes out more a sob than anything else. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he manages, and feels absolutely helpless. 

“That’s alright,” Superman says, low and soothing. “You don’t have to know what to do yet. I can help you figure out your options, and we’ll go from there. Okay?” 

“We’ll”, Kon registers, and immediately bursts into tears. 

“Sorry!” he sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I fucked up so bad–!” 

“You made a mistake,” Superman says, simple and merciful and squeezing his shoulder again. “You didn’t do anything to hurt anyone else. You didn’t do anything wrong or cruel or on purpose. And it’s not anything we can’t fix.” 

“I don’t know how,” Superboy chokes, turning his head away and desperately trying to rub the stupid tears off his face and pull himself back together, because why is he being this stupid and this isn’t Superman’s problem, and he’s–and he’s so stupid! Why is he always so stupid?! And he doesn’t want to look stupid in front of Superman, much less this weak and pathetic.

Even if it’s true. 

But if this kid gets stuck in a lab, whether they’re his or not . . . well, he’s the reason Knockout’s in prison right now. He’s the one who took her down. 

Fuck, she was pregnant when he took her down. He hit her! While she was pregnant! He hit her really hard! And like, yeah, she was trying to murder him and stuff, but–just, shit, what’s wrong with him?!

This kid is so fucked. There’s no way this kid isn’t fucked. They’re gonna grow up in a lab and if they ever hear anything about him and Knockout, it’s gonna be about how fucking fucked up they were, and–and–

He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t even know how this could get fixed, no matter what Superman says. 

He’s never . . . he’s never doubted anything Superman told him before, but . . . but the situation is just so fucked, and he doesn’t even have options. How could he? Just–how? Ever? He’s not a legal adult, he’s not even really a legal person; they’re not gonna let him have the baby. Even if they say they’ll let him, they’ll find an excuse to keep them later, or a reason he can’t have them, or–or something. 

His place definitely isn’t babyproofed, if nothing else. He doesn’t even know how to babyproof a place, he’s just vaguely aware that that’s a thing that people do when they have a kid. Like, normal, responsible people who the government isn’t going to take said kid from.

Who’s he kidding? He doesn’t even have the kid to have them get “taken” from him. Knockout’s in custody and he’s just a stupid fucking not even legal idiot who hit her while she was pregnant. 

“We’ll figure that out, kid,” Superman says kindly, and Superboy folds his arms and tries not to start crying harder. It’s less that he’s folded his arms, though, and more that he’s . . . hugging himself, probably. But he really doesn’t want it to look like he’s doing that in front of Superman. 

“What, the government’s gonna let me keep a baby in my shitty beat-up old place with zero security that everybody knows is my home address?” he asks bitterly, digging his fingers into his arms. “They won’t let me do that. They’ll say it’s not safe. Fuck, it’s not safe!” 

“It’s not, no,” Superman agrees. “But there’s still options, alright? Why don’t you just . . . come with me, for right now. Have you eaten yet?”

“Um–I don’t think so,” Superboy says, trying to remember. He honestly . . . yeah, no. “No, uh–the call woke me up, and then I just waited for visiting hours and then I–then I just came here, so . . . no.” 

“Alright,” Superman says. “Then we’ll get lunch, and then we’ll talk about your options while we eat. Okay?” 

“Um . . . okay,” Superboy says, swallowing uncomfortably. He scrubs the last of the tears away, still feeling stupid and embarrassed. Superman squeezes his shoulder one last time, then drops his hand away. Superboy misses it immediately, even though he doesn’t even deserve the–the comfort or whatever, right now. He fucked up. Really bad. He doesn’t deserve comforted, and especially not by Superman.

But he can’t bring himself to turn it down, either. 

“Okay,” Superman says, giving him a faint, regretful little smile. Superboy feels even more embarrassed. He’s bothering Superman with this, like he thinks he has the fucking right to, but . . . but he didn’t know where else to go, or who else to talk to, or . . . 

He just didn’t know where else to go.

[earthpleasures]

RUNNING UP THAT HILL !

Lucy Gray Baird x fem!reader

Summary: On the faithful day of Reaping Ceremony, you finally became aware of what you've been lacking in your life. Lucy Gray Baird's love. Your one and only childhood friend. You were ready to throw yourself in front of starved wolves for her sake, and you decided to prove it.

Warnings: ANGST / swearing

Word Count: 2.2k

A/n: me trying to write something happy, result:

"and if I only could

i'd make a deal with God

and I'd get Him to swap our places"

- running up that hill by kate bush.

Streets of District 12 was filthy as ever as Y/n and Lucy Gray dragged their feet to The Hub. Tomorrow was the day Reaping was going to happen. Neither of the girls felt any excitement over fourth of july, just like rest of whole twelve districts that were about sacrifice their children to Capitol's psychopathy.

“Lucy Gray, you're unusually quite today.” Y/n spoke as she fixed the fruit basket pressed against her side. They were planning to ask Hub if they would let Covey do one last show before reaping, and then make their way to flea market. Maybe they could exchange a piece of clothing for a few strawberries Y/n farmed.

Lucy Gray's face lit up with a smile, Y/n could never differentiate if these smiles were true or not.

“I was thinking of this night's show. I have a song I wish to sing.” That thought made other girl smile. She always loved the infamous Songbird’s voice and songs.

She ate one of the strawberries from the brown basket. “Oh well, I will wait for your song with all ears. However, how do you plan to sing it? You haven't teach us anything about its melody.” Lucy Gray chuckled at her friend's worried tone.

“No worries, love. I've wrote it over one of our songs’ melody. I think tonight's lyrics fit to it better anyway.”

“I… if you say so.”

She could never disobey or say something against her songbird’s statements. And finally Hub became visible from the distance. Old walls were ready to crumble on its residents but all two girls saw was a roof to gain a few coins.

Lucy Gray held the door open for her since she was clinging into the basket, making sure no strawberries fell out. She nodded her head to her to thank her. Inside was stinking as usual. Smell of mold, poverty and cheap gin. It wasn't like Y/n lived in a clean or new home. However she could never prevent the nausea from rising in her throat every time they entered this place.

Disease and death traveled through the whole Panem without knowing any borders, she didn't have a reason to act wary against The Hub.

Besides the disgusting smell, the place was almost empty. Most of the audience were peacekeepers and they seemed nowhere to be found at this time of day. They were on ‘duty’. More like haunting the poor folk of 12. Y/n thought of it.

Conversations were always made by Lucy Gray, no one could resist the sweet way of the words spilling from her lips. “Hi! How have you been, Ben?” She spring on her heels while talking, her alluring personality ready to charm its flies.

Bartender's tense shoulders relaxed when her image entered his vision. “Hi, Lucy Gray. I assume you are here to ask if Covey can perform tonight.” Lucy Gray nodded slowly, she jumped to sit on a chair, her legs swung around since they couldn't reach to sub board of the wooden chair.

“Always a smart one. Yes, I was going to ask if we can perform one last time before Reaping.” Ben sighed while rubbing the dirty cloth to an old striated glass. “I guess you can do it, tomorrow ain’ the brightest day for us after all.” She added a hint of sorrow to her smile.

“But we must make the most of the lifes we have, mustn't we?” He nodded to approve her statement. “As much as we can in this shitty district.”

After some chit-chat talk, they left Hub with the guarantee of a few coins to throw in their pockets that night. Y/n watched Lucy Gray's happy expression, the way she spinned around herself, her colorful dress’ long skirt flying around. She loved to admire anything Songbird did.

Flea market wasn't too crowded either. Mourn of unknown loses was already hunting people of District 12. Two or three stalls of clothing seemed to be present. A woman from last week was absent. Poor lady, perhaps she died because God knows what kind of disease or she fell in hands of a peacekeeper.

Y/n intertwined her fingers with Lucy Gray's, moving as close as possible was safer in a place like this. To be honest, staying together was the best choice in all places of 12.

A man with a women's clothing stall caught her eyes. His face was tired and sick, probably had the flu. “Look, maybe we can exchange these strawberries with a pair of shoes. Maude Ivory was sad about Peacekeepers tearing her sandals.” Lucy Gray nodded and followed her lead.

Y/n harshly put the basket in front of the man, leaving a tough first impression was important if they wanted to have a fair exchange.

“Ah, famous doves of Covey. What do you have for me?” She could smell of starvation from his breath even at this distance. All she needed to do was to push him a bit.

“A basket of fresh, clean strawberries.” She arched her eyebrow in a daring manner. “Do you really think a basket of fruit can buy clothes?” Man raised his chin. He was stubborn, but could never be as much as Y/n.

“Okay, listen the deal old man. You give us these shoes.” She pointed to an old, worn pair of shoes. “And I leave all of these tasty things at your stall. ‘kay? And if you don't, I can go to another stall.” He looked at the basket then at her face. His mouth was salivating for a taste of anything, and giving away the shoes seemed to be a good option.

“Take the shoes.”

Y/n took a deep breath as relief filled her veins. She emptied the whole basket to an old bag man owned and placed the shoes inside it. Exchange was fair, he wasn't going to die from starvation and Maude Ivory was going to get a pair of wearable shoes.

“Don’t you think you've been hard on him?” Lucy Gray mumbled while her index finger lovingly caressed the fabric of the shoe. They would fit the little girl just fine. “Being nice doesn't grant us any living in District 12.” Y/n shrugged and dismissed her question.

All members of Covey were exhausted from last night’ performance, which led them to hardly wake up for Reaping. Their house was already hot from weather outside, shattering walls were making it worse by letting the fresh sunlight in.

Y/n, as always, was first to wake up. Even on an effing day like this. A few more hours of sleep wasn't even a choice given the fact Peacekeepers would drag them out to watch Reaping or, to be reaped.

She groaned with ache coursing through her bones, makeshift bed cracked under her weight. Slipping her shoes to her feet, she looked around to check other Covey members. None seemed to have a peaceful slumber, Lucy Gray was sweating, Maude Ivory was panting heavily, Barb Azure's eyebrows were furrowed. The expected disaster made everyone uneasy inside.

She took off her pajamas, her hands extending to the shirt and skirt she wore yesterday. “Why don't you wear something colorful, love?” Her head practically snapped to the direction the voice came from. Lucy Gray's eyes were closed, yet a subtle smile sat on her sweaty features.

“Good morning.” Y/n murmured as she stood up from her bed. She considered her options. The most fancy thing she owned outside of a few stage clothes was a faded purple dress with flower-covered frills on its skirts. Her hand hesitated when it reached the folded fabric. She got this at the insistence of Lucy Gray and Barb Azure for three coins in the flea market last year. For special days.

What could be more special than the day she would be presumably sent to death in her life?

Accompanied by an ache in her heart for dirting the dress with memories of such a melancholic day, she pulled it over her head, messing up her already disheveled hair more. Stained mirror was reflecting a seventeen year old girl's ruined beauty, face worn by living difficulties.

Two lean arms sneaked around her waist, securing her against the girl behind her. Lucy Gray pressed her chin to her shoulder, observing their imagines from mirror. “You're beautiful.” She whispered, as if possibility of anyone else stealing her compliment to Y/n scared her.

“So are you.” She whispered back, unconsciously closing her eyes and leaning to her touch. Silence was comforting, almost like an inaudible lullaby singing to two awake girls’ ears. “I have a dreadful feeling about this day inside me, something is gnawing at me.” Lucy Gray chuckled and tucked a strand of hair behind the ear of the girl in front of her.

“Now don't make such a long face, be positive. Death isn't an end, remember?” At her light words, Y/n turned around with her arms still wrapped around her waist. She cupped her face, looking at her beautiful brown eyes. Maybe they could swallow her, so she would never leave her.

“No, Lu. You don't get it. Something bad is about to happen. I feel it, you know I always feel it.” Lucy Gray's eyes widened at her hurried sentences. The worst case in a Reaping day would be reaped as their district's tribute. Everyday was a survival struggle in District 12, but being thrown to arena? Now that would be a different story.

With their fingers locked to each other, Y/n dragged her after herself to the little place where they grew strawberries to exchange or sell. “I know that you have no will to trust anyone after Billy Taupe, but just… just hear me out.” Brunette furrowed her eyebrows, she wasn't stupid, guessing where the conversation was about to go wasn't hard. But did it matter at this point?

“I am listening, Y/n.”

“What are you two doing there?” Maude Ivory's childish voice interrupted her before she can speak. And that killed her last piece of courage to confess her feelings for Lucy Gray.

“Nothing, honey. We were just chatting.” She quickly smiled and turned her attention to little girl, she was wearing the pair of shoes they got for her yesterday. “Are they comfortable?” Little girl stared down at her shoes. “Yeap. They're so easy to wear! Thank you.”

Her lips pulled themselves into a forced smile. The girl was as naive as a child in districts could be. Perhaps it was because rest of the Covey sought their best to raise their youngest as pure as possible.

People were gathering in front of the stage one by one. Between age 12-18, kids were separated to groups. Covey made their way to their groups. As always, Reaping day was hot and everyone was sweating under cruel sun and stress.

First to go was female tribute. For male tribute, she wasn't worried at all. Clerk Clementine was old enough to be excluded from Reaping.

But what about us?

“Lucy Gray Baird!”

She could swear her heart missed a beat, maybe a few beats, when she heard the name. Out of instinct her eyes found Lucy Gray. It looked like she was ready to put on a show one last time.

Lucy Gray began to walk towards the stage.

“I volunteer!”

A desperate voice erupted from between waiting kids. Y/n threw herself in front of Lucy Gray, eyes filled with terror and tears. “I volunteer as tribute!” Brunette extended to hold her hand with shock. “Love, what the hell are you doing?” Girl in front of her turned to look at her with guilt.

Before any word being shared, a peacekeeper caught Y/n's arm, dragging the girl to stage. Lucy Gray tried to run, only to be thrown to ground by another peacekeeper. Even while walking to death, they couldn't take their eyes from each other.

“No, no, no. I am chosen. You chose me! Give her back!” Maude Ivory wrapped her arms around her as Barb Azure pressed her head to her chest so she couldn't see Y/n.

She stepped on the stage in front of pitying eyes. After all, what kind of moron would throw herself into a lion's den for whatever reason?

Mayor looked at her with grand disgust, as if girl interrupted something she wasn’t supposed to. “District 12's female tribute, Y/n L/n.”

She didn't even bother to listen who was chosen as male tribute. Whoever it was, he was going to walk to death with twenty two other tributes.

Whole time she watched the rest of the Covey. They all looked disheveled with one of them being sent to Games.

She didn't even get to confess to her, kiss her, embrace her one last time. Like all District 12 kids before her, she was going to turn into a drop of blood to write Capitol's pages of history. She remembered the hide and seek game the played when they were children.

“You can't catch me, Lucy Gray!”

She kept her head high, this wasn't a display of pitiful love. That was a worthy sacrifice to keep her darling alive. Everything was worth it to Lucy Gray.

“You can't catch me anymore, Lucy Gray.”

She whispered, knowing Lucy Gray won't ever hear her again.

©2024 earthpleasures do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[hannie-dul-set]

babe pls write anything for taehyun and my life will be yours 💞😠

[get your shit together]. kang taehyun has always been gifted with the sharpness to notice things first. thanks to this, he’s always been the one to swoop in at the last minute to save your group from trouble.

for example, in fourth grade, when you guys were fooling around in soobin’s living room a little too close to his mom’s favorite vase, taehyun noticed the old ceramic wobble before it could smash into the ground, right before his mom’s footsteps welcomed themselves in. another instance was during study hall in middle school, when you and beomgyu were playing connect four behind a stack of books, taehyun managed to kick your chairs from behind as a warning before your teacher could notice you two and send you to detention.

taehyun has always been pretty sharp. nothing goes under the radar. not even how kai lights up ever so subtly whenever you give him special attention. not even the shift in beomgyu’s gaze when you comforted him after his last breakup. not even how soobin keeps and keeps and keeps trying to flake out on hang-outs whenever you’re around. not even yeonjun’s half-assed attempts to stay in touch ever since he left for university.

“hey, get your fucking shit together.”

none of these things had gone unnoticed. he doesn’t understand why the other four are failing to notice things.

“do you think avoiding her is doing more good than harm? quit being selfish and think about just how much you’re hurting her by staying away and keeping your distance.”

because, really—

“why are you acting as if moving out of the neighborhood is such a big deal? so what if you’re in college now. soobin’s gonna follow you there next year anyway. you’re already far away as is and you’re making it even harder for us to reach you.”

it doesn’t take an untrained eye—

“can’t you see that unloading all your feelings for her is making her uncomfortable? burdensome? i get that you like her, but quit being caught up in your own emotions to the point where you’re failing to consider everyone else’s.”

nor does it take quick wits and sensibilities—

“seriously, what exactly do you want? you say one thing and do another. you swore to move on and get over it, but you’re still expecting things, you’re still latching onto the hope that something more could happen.”

to notice just how shitty you feel about all of this. 

“i feel like things have gotten awfully tangled lately,” you sigh. it’s the middle of the night, and you called taehyun over for a quick stroll around the neighborhood. obviously, that’s not the only reason why you called for his presence. “i miss the old days where we can all just hang out with no issues.”

when you look at taehyun with a somber smile, he feels something heavy press into his ribcage from the inside. it suffocates the life out of him. it clogs his throat, constricts his breathing. he gives your hand a squeeze as tight as how his lungs are feeling.

“don’t worry.”

once again, kang taehyun has to be the one to swoop in so that no one gets in trouble. so that no one gets uncomfortable. so that no one ruins the god damned ten years of friendship you guys have built just because of feelings they can’t keep under wraps. 

“i’ll fix it.”

but in order to do that—

your smile brightens. his chest feels tighter. 

—he needs to get his shit together.

“thank you.” 

he can’t let himself fall for you too.

send me a kpop boy (txt/enha/zb1/bnd/dream) to toss into reverse harem hell! [yeonjun] [beomgyu]

[cynfuldelights]

Wardens: Cops By Another Name

So, in writing my Dresden fanfic I've once again stumbled upon another interesting quandary in the Dresdenverse and that's just how remarkably pro-cop the series is. Not in like, its representation of the Chicago PD which someone tried to point out to me was not "copaganda" because there were "good cops AND bad cops" Okay. Let's talk about Wardens then. So, Wardens unequivocally are the police of the wizard world at least for human mages. They answer to the authority of the White Council and the Head Warden, they're allowed to use lethal force in order to enforce those laws, and members are generally pulled from the populace policed (e.g. other wizards). With maybe the exception of Morgan, they're all generally portrayed the same was as the CPD are. They're also about as easy to corrupt and abuse their power as normal police, are given extrajudicial power to murder pretty much whoever they want if given a good enough "reason", and are able to carry out that act using a means of force unavailable to the rest of the population they police. Warden Donald Morgan IN THE FIRST BOOK, deliberately tries to misinterpret the Laws of Magic in order to kill Harry, who Morgan sees as a dangerous liability to leave lying around. So he just like. Tries to lie to Harry about how the Law works. Either that or he just doesn't understand the Laws of Magic. Kinda fucked up don't you think? Isn't it even more fucked up that if Harry didn't know about the Laws of Magic, Morgan could've just killed him right there in that Chicago park and the series would've just ended? Like. There's not really a criminal justice system it seems in the White Council aside from the Doom of Damacles, a laughably terrible system, that puts people who want to help reform people instead of kill them in harm's way. The only other trial we see is when a poor kid is laughably fucked up from using mind control magic and we just had to kill the fifteen-year old don't you see??

Like, sure, the Doom of Damacles is obviously a terrible shitty system that you could say is a reflection of how old and backwards the White Council is but so little of the Wardens or even the Laws of Magic are shown in the same light. Like, Morgan, is our "quintessential" bad cop, but like NOTHING BAD HAPPENS TO HIM FOR ABUSING HIS POWER! If anything in the end he's given a heroic death despite the fact that he was a terrible Warden who most definitely killed innocent people. He almost killed Harry!

Not only could he have killed him, he could've killed him easily. All Wardens, after all, are given anti-magic swords, purpose-built to negate the magic of 'renegade' mages and warlocks that they're trying to murder bring to justice. Nobody else is given these. Only Wardens, using a method that only ONE WARDEN knows how to use.

All based on, not the letter of the law, but on Morgan's interpretation of it. Just like cops do. They don't have to actually understand the law. Just try to stomp on anyone they perceive as dangerous. I wonder how it would've gone if Harry wasn't a tall White guy. You think Morgan a guy raised in a different CENTURY doesn't have weird internalized views about people different than him? Y'know. LIKE HARRY?

Plus, like... what would've even happened if he did!? Who would investigate Morgan? Other Wardens?! You think a community as insular as The White Council would actually bother with doing something when a Law of Magic hasn't been broken? Do you think they're going to believe a warlock or Lawbreaker over a wizard and Warden of the White Council? After all, breaking the Law(s of Magic) is one of the most fundamentally evil things you can do. So in order to fix that, we need to use summary execution via military police, no matter if they're a child or an adult.

After all: KILLING SOMEONE WITH AN ANTI-MAGIC SWORD DOESN'T COUNT AS KILLING SOMEONE WITH MAGIC. SO THAT MAKES IT OKAY, DOESN'T IT? (And as an aside, uh, what do you mean killing someone with an anti-magic sword, doesn't count as killing them with magic.

Like, I understand that a certain level of semantic bullshit can be argued with a lot of things in any Fantasy setting but like... What? You're telling me a sword forged with magical properties does not count as killing people with magic, even if its magical properties are used to kill them? Like. If I stab someone with a flaming sword and they burn to death, does that count?)

[chaifootsteps]

there were a lot of bad moments but there was one line in particular that bothered me

'do you ever regret the things you do?' followed by Stolas asking if Blitzo has ever apologized before

And the answer is yes, Stolas - yes he literally has. The person he's apologized to is Stolas at the end of the Ozzie's, the one time he shouldn't have had to give an apology - because he just didn't want to sleep with Stolas that night. Did Stolas just conveniently forget about that?

(also to Loona at the end of Seeing Stars, the other time he ended up taking on too much responsibility in an argument with someone who had no intention of acting less shitty towards him)

it's just so galling to hear that from Stolas of all people, given how he's been physically incapable of apologizing to Blitzo so far and obviously wasn't even considering it at any point in this episode. Does he think his 'I'll do everything but literally say I'm sorry' speech in Full Moon means he's basically in the clear at this point?

(And Stolas has apologized to Via once and learnt precisely nothing from it, he's just as shitty as ever - but sure, criticize Blitzo for prioritizing his daughter's health over rescuing his incompetent feathered ass for a second time. Weird how the writers don't have Blitzo point out he should understand since he has Via)

It's clear he's still not understood what Blitzo meant when he said 'don't pretend there's anything between us but sex - you make that really clear all the time' - forget being slow on the uptake, is Stolas experiencing time dilation or something? is his brain running Windows 97?

if Blitzo still doesn't trust him once the deal is done, most people would realize that there's maybe a bigger problem here. or that the deal itself is a justifiable reason not to immediately trust him and be able to switch gears just like that. but Stolas is so hung up on getting his needs met he still hasn't shown any real consideration for what's going on in Blitzo's head. He gets unproductively frustrated about Blitzo "projecting" the role of a prince on him (heavy air quotes there because he really is an idiot if he thinks his title doesn't matter - they opened this episode with him lounging around his fancy fountain while Blitzo has to scale the wall just to talk to him) and never asks why Blitzo is irritated with him (of course Viv is just going to frame it like Blitzo believes Stolas could never love him to let Stolas off the hook as much as possible)

The closest he's got is remembering a couple of shots from season 1 during his song (he's finally exhibiting signs of having a functional memory! what a miracle! and it's something from season 1!) but even then he's still like 'hmm, is there something I should learn from this? was it perhaps wrong of me to ask for sex as repayment for saving his life and demean him constantly around the theme park while he was uncomfortable? :('

it's really something to see the writers pole vault right over 'Stolas is a mess but could fix his life & relationships with enough work' all the way to 'Stolas is not only pathetic but is the densest motherfucker to ever walk the 7 rings' (hey, if he thinks it's fair game to call Blitzo that...)

It's the writing equivalent of watching someone repeatedly insist that 2 + 2 = 5. Frustrating doesn't even begin to cover it.

[average-mako-enjoyer]

The thing that interests me the most tho, is what the fuck did hank plan to do with him during partners? Like, some android, that he doesn't know, shows up at a no-androids-allowed establishment, talks about a murder, buys him a drink or spills one, doesn't matter, and he's like "sure, get in the car". Said android lets him drive while hes intoxicated, so like, clearly not a police unit, and once they get to the crime scene hank tells him to wait in the car. For WHAT? What was the plan there? And the next day at the police station he throws a hissy fit that he has to work with an android, but… ?? If he didn't think they'd work together WHAT did he think they'd do? Where did he plan to take him?

This scene is so, so frustrating to me, dear anon, and not even for any of the reasons you mention here.

It happens so early in the game, and it kind of shows how bad of a writer David Cage is, and gives a little insight into his writing process. So he has this idea: robot walks into the bar and meets a grumpy cop who doesn't like him very much, then they drive to a crime scene together, and robot introduces his grumpy human partner to his unorthodox methods of investigation, end of scene.

And you know what, as an idea, as a bare bones of the plot, it's great. Even some of the little details in Partners are great.

Hank drinking in the anti-android establishment. Connor's scans showing several criminals as patrons of said establishment. This being the fifth bar Connor has checked. Connor either paying for Hank's drink (he was given money and freedom to pay this guy, like a human! ) or acting like a complete asshole (androids can't be assholes to humans, they're tools, they exist to be useful, not to show character!). Connor disobeying Hank's direct order (again, unheard of) and Hank going along with it (why??). Hank clearly being fascinated (and disgusted) by Connor's abilities. All of this is so good. Even the fact that Hank is driving the car in that first scene, but then allows Connor to drive him to Eden, is very telling and shows the progress of their relationship. That's the great stuff.

Partners is extremely effective at showing both Hank and Connor's characters and establishing the dynamic between them, but oh boy, does it fall so flat when it comes to worldbuilding.

There's so much stuff thrown in that could have explained everything, but like RA9, like so much of this game, it just goes nowhere.

When Connor talks about "procedure", what does he mean?

"In accordance with procedure, the company has allocated a specialized model to assist investigators."

Please correct me if I'm wrong, but I think the word "procedure" implies that Connor was given the assignment according to some pre-established protocol. One that Hank, as a police officer, would have to know about. It would've explained why Hank just goes along with whatever Connor says or does.

I mean, Daniel's case must have been incredibly high profile. A domestic android kills an owner, kills and wounds several cops, and all of this happens not in some dingy apartment in the suburbs (like Ortiz's case), but downtown. Emma's family is clearly incredibly rich, there must be a lot of publicity surrounding this case, and yet it's almost as if it never happened, as if Connor's involvement in it was minimal, as if it was the only deviant case Connor was involved in before being sent to Hank. And why is that? Because of Carlos Ortiz?

Why is the number of missing androids and android cases news to Connor? Why was Connor sent to investigate deviants only a few months after Daniel's case? What's the procedure?

What's the procedure???

All of this could be easily fixed and explained (see the pattern? see why David Cage is a shitty writer?) by adding a few details. What if Daniel's case wasn't Connor's first or second? What if after Daniel's case, Connor worked with several departments, looking for clues? What if the cops are talking about this deviant hunter machine that's pissing everyone off, and that's why Hank knows about him? What if that's why he goes along with Connor's antics, both annoyed and fascinated by him?

What if Hank tells him to stay in the car because that's how he envisions his work with this thing going?