#I don't have a point here I'm just spewing while avoiding work

[cultivating-wildflowers]

💭

[spikedfearn]

I Said Just a Little Bit, Then I Got a Taste of It

Chapter II

bjorn x fem!reader

summary: After being transferred to another sector of Jackson's Star you reluctantly befriend a ragtag group of people with the exception of one cocky asshole who knows just how to get under your skin.

On the surface, you hate each other, but after experiencing a particularly harrowing event together, the two of you grow closer than anyone else could ever imagine.

warnings: secret friends with benefits, enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol/drug use, sexual themes, non-linear narrative, side rainkay, trauma bonding, near death experience, brief mention of child abuse, more tags to be added

a/n: a slight correction from the first chapter: I realized after I posted that I wrote Kay being under the influence when she runs after you when she is, in fact, pregnant in this au. I don't know how I whiffed that up when it's a relevant plot point to the story (ￗ﹏ￗ) either way though, I went back and edited the chapter but just in case anyone following this story didn't reread it after I made the changes, I wanted to put a disclaimer here!

tags: @asvtrials

wc: 3.3k

Masterlist Next Chapter

You remember the night the two of you first met with a stunning amount of clarity.

It took place a few weeks after your compulsory transfer, a result of the mines in sector two having been exhausted of all its valuable resources, the higher-ups deciding to split the colonists inhabiting it among the other five.

Truthfully, you still don't know how to feel about it. Sure, it sucks being uprooted from the only home you've ever known, forced to live in an alien environment, even if it is just another extension of the same colony.

But, on the other hand, it's sorta nice—starting over. Being relocated to somewhere no one knows you, your story. Able to shed your baggage and leave it behind, only bringing with the clothes on your back and the dog tags of your late mother, the only things that truly matter to you.

You're nearing the end of another one of your shifts, sweat gathered in the folds and creases of your body, watching sparks fly off the hard mineral you're drilling into when the girl next to you yanks down her face shield, narrowly turning away from the rock wall to bend over and vomit in the walkway instead.

It’s not unusual for people to get sick while working, the conditions down here are hazardous and the safety equipment provided does little to protect you from the harsh fumes and kicked-up debris. Still, you sympathize, knowing firsthand how miserable it is to try and push through til clock out time.

However the supervisors do not, one of the men patrolling the area to ensure endless labor shouting, “worker #1693! Why have you stopped working?”

The girl lifts her head in response to being reprimanded, the headlamp strapped to her hard hat illuminating the man looming over her, the head of the drill she was still holding stabbed into the soft earth beneath their feet, using it like an impromptu crutch.

“I'm sorry sir,” she coughs, voice rough from the stomach acid and bile she just spewed everywhere, “it's morning sickness—I'm pregnant.”

A wave of compassion comes crashing down over you, everyone else in the immediate vicinity paying no mind as they continue to excavate, wanting to avoid a scolding of their own. Not that you can blame any of them, insubordination at best results in hours lost and at worst, an automatic jail sentence, the only place somehow worse than the mines.

You want to turn a blind eye like the others but—you can't, feeling guilt gnaw at your conscience. Even in the limited light you can tell she's sick, skin pale and glistening with a fresh coat of sweat, chest spasming as she doubles back over and starts to dry heave.

“Well get back to it, we have a quota to fill!” He orders, growing increasingly agitated.

Almost instantly you find the words, “how long do you have left?” leaving your mouth before you can process what you're saying, watching as she looks back to find you.

“What was that?” She asks, using the back of her wrist to wipe the string of spit hanging from her lip, looking so small and so vulnerable, like she's on the verge of passing out. It's enough to make you commit to what you say next.

Pushing the goggles up and over your helmet and the face shield down and away your mouth to unmuffle your voice you repeat, “how long do you have left? Like—how many hours?”

“Four?” She answers, confused, the same supervisor that had warned her moments ago barking, “worker #1251, why aren't you working?!” The threatening buzz of a shock stick now being aimed towards you.

Four hours. You're in the last hour of your own shift, bone-tired and barely hanging on, adding another four after the fact might actually kill you.

With that in mind you find yourself volunteering, looking between her and the guard ready to taze the fuck out of both of you, “I can pick up her hours. Sir.” You tack on, albeit sarcastically.

Her eyes round out in surprise before the skin between her eyebrows wrinkle in confusion, understandably so. It's incredibly rare for a stranger to show humanity in a hellscape like this, where it's every man for himself.

“Why?” She asks, straightening her back out, hand coming up to cup her still flat stomach.

You shrug despite knowing exactly why, not that you'd share that with a complete stranger, replying, “don't worry about it,” before offering, “because I want to,” instead, hoping to avoid any follow up questions.

A pretty smile breaks out across her face, so big her eyes nearly disappear, turning the headlamp attached to her helmet off to get a proper look at you, “thank you so much. Really. I totally owe you one.”

“Sure,” you say, not intending to cash in on that favor at all. You don't want to owe anyone anything or them to owe you.

It's a dangerous thing—caring about someone or something on Jackson's Star. One of the only valuable lessons life in the colony has taught you. Better to lessen the weight of the emotional impact when they inevitably leave. Easier.

Your eyes follow her as she walks the path leading towards the exit, a cute little skip in her step. You can't help but smile, the muscles in your cheeks twitching at the foreign stretch of your mouth. You don't remember the last time you felt one of those on your lips.

The extra time doesn't end up killing you—which sucks, it could've been your ticket out of here.

Morbid humor aside, you can barely move as you head to the clock out station, summoning the last bit of strength you have to heave the drill up on top of the counter, ignoring the loud clang it makes when it hits the metal countertop. If they wanna dock you for the damage fine, you can't find it in you to give a fuck at the moment.

The lady behind the transparent partition checks your equipment back in, the clacking of the keys sounding loud without the constant drilling, being the last miner to leave.

“Worker #1251. Drill returned, no visible damage to report. Twenty hours logged.”

“Wait,” you interrupt, her fingers pausing above the keyboard, eyes still glued to the computer screen, “the four hours. Could you give them to the girl I covered for?”

She looks at you then, like you're high on the fumes circulating through the tunnels. Maybe you are, because who just volunteers to do hard labor? And for free? That and you still have to come back and clock in four hours from now.

“Are you sure?”

Though you don't hesitate to nod before verbalizing, “yeah,” your thoughts straying to the baby she's growing inside of her, “she’s gonna need the hours more than I do.”

It'll be the last nice thing you'll ever do, because you're never doing that shit again, offering to cover for someone else, for someone you don't even know.

Except—you do.

Because the morning sickness doesn't go away for the next two weeks, no matter how little she eats to try and combat it. And, regardless of the front you put on, you have a heart. A heart and a motive, one you plan to keep close to the chest whenever you step up and tell whatever supervisor nearby that you'll take on her workload only to transfer the hours to her at the end of the night.

Her name is Kay. You learn that after the third shift you cover for her when she comes up to you during everyone's designated lunch break, taking a seat on the bench next to you, far away from the others eating together.

You're reluctant to give her yours, preferring to just be a faceless number among the crowd, because knowing each other's names means familiarity, and familiarity means attachment. And you never intended for that to happen, wanting to just keep to yourself after the transfer but Kay looks a little crushed when you don't give it to her the first time she asks so, eventually, you do.

It's fine. It's just your name. This doesn't have to mean anything.

Except—it does.

Opens the door for Kay to start joining you for lunch, to stand next to you while you're working, to start asking you about yourself, wanting to befriend the angel that's come to her rescue the last few weeks. Her words, not yours.

You don't disclose much, keeping your past private the only thing keeping you safe from heartache. From that type of overwhelmingly raw pain only loss can bring and, while you've done your absolute best to pick up the pieces, you'll never be the same.

Shattered glass can be put back together but the cracks will always, always remain.

Kay seems to pick up on it because she doesn't broach the subject again, choosing to redirect her energy by trying to convince you to come hang out with her and her friends instead.

You reject her offer every time she asks, giving out your name is one thing, socializing outside of the mines is something else entirely, but Kay is persistent, annoyingly so. Begs you to come out for just one drink whenever you guys have downtime at work, giving you the puppy dog eyes while she does it, whining and stamping her foot when you inevitably turn her down.

You're sitting together during lunch one day, on the little metal bench you claimed the first night you started working in sector six, eating the same boring sandwich you make before the start of every shift.

However, for the first time in a long time, you feel good today, well-rested, chalking it up to not covering Kay’s shifts over the last three days.

She's roughly two months along and no longer vomiting on the job site, able to work her full shifts for the last seventy two hours, the worst of the morning sickness seemingly over. You're glad she's finally feeling better, and, if you're honest, a little relieved.

Not that Kay ever expected you to cover for her, you know her well enough now to realize that, can noticeably see the gratitude she radiates every time you volunteered, but you would've kept doing it, even if she stayed sick for the remainder of her pregnancy.

“Sooo,” Kay starts, drawing out the o, playing with the bendy straw sticking out of her apple juice box, “the gang and I are gonna hit up a bar tonight.”

“Cool,” you mutter, already seeing where this is going. It's the same tactic she's used the last dozen or so times she's invited you out. “Have fun.”

Kay pouts, her eyes big and pleading, “you should come with, it'll be fun. I'll even buy you a drink so I can properly thank you for easing my stress for a little while.”

“You don't have to thank me Kay,” you reply between bites of bologna, “I didn't do it for free beer.” A chuckle following after.

“C’moooon,” Kay bemoans, wiggling her shoulders for emphasis, “stop being such a buzzkill.”

“Can’t. That's who I am, Captain Buzzkill.” Your words slightly muffled by a napkin you use to wipe your mouth clean once you finish eating, crumpling it up along with the cellophane and brown paper bag you brought your sandwich in.

“Why are you the most stubborn person alive?” She whines, chucking her now empty juice box into a nearby waste bin.

“That’s probably not true.”

“Well you're up there! Now please just come out with us tonight. For me. And if you really don't have a good time I'll never ask again.”

“Never?” You ask, feeling your resolve slowly eroding away.

Her eyes glisten with newfound hope, nodding her head enthusiastically, “never ever.”

“Fine,” you relent, “but just one.”

If this is what it takes for her to stop bugging you about it you'll do it, just this once. Besides, you can slam a beer pretty quick if you're dead set on it.

You smile and roll your eyes at the squeal she makes, her arms wrapping around you to reel you in towards her chest, hands settling on your bicep, one on top of the other, her fingers creating wrinkles in the fabric of your shirt sleeve from how tight she's hugging you.

You awkwardly pat her forearm, not used to receiving affection, “but just one,” you reiterate. If you're gonna do this you're gonna do it on your terms and your terms only.

“Just one,” she echoes, rocking the two of you back and forth, the whistle of the horn above you signaling the end of your lunch break.

One turns into three.

You had every intention to leave after the first but, as much as you hate to admit it, you are having a good time.

Kay’s friends are cool, nice, having welcomed you in with ease, like they’ve known you for a while. In a way they do, Kay having told them about you, what you did for her. You don't think it's a big deal but they seem to think so, what with the warmth they show you from the outset.

“So you're the angel that's been helping my little sis out!” Tyler, Kay’s older brother, greets you cheerfully, pupils dilated from the alcohol, having already started without you, not that you actually care. “A proper little mutha’ Theresa in our midst!”

You snort at that, waving him off, “not really. She's pregnant. I'm not so, I thought I'd just help her out.”

“Well it's really sweet,” Rain chimes in, more reserved than the others, preferring to let everyone else talk. You can already tell the two of you will get along. “Which is pretty rare to find around here.”

Besides Tyler and Rain, there's Rain’s brother Andy and their friend Navarro. Andy, like Rain, is also on the quiet side, the programming he has installed a little outdated. Though Navarro, the resident techxpert, is working on an upgrade, building a chip out of scrap metal and wiring, she scavenges from the local scrapyard.

You're all crowded around one of the dozen or so tables taking up half the floor, the bar brimming with other colonists, knocking back beers or playing darts, the room filled with the sounds of laughter and chatter blending together. It's not a place you would choose to go on your own but it does add another layer of entertainment when you're with the right people.

“I guess,” you reply, cautiously agreeing with Rain, even though you know she's more than correct. It's just hard for you to accept compliments, you're just not used to hearing them and don't think very highly of yourself to begin with.

You finish off the rest of your drink, pulling your leather wallet out of the back pocket of your jeans to order another, but Tyler is quick to stop you.

“Nah—nah,” Tyler says, his hand lifting off the tabletop to wave you off, “don't even,” he pauses to turn away and burp before turning back around to face you again, “don't even trip. I got your tab covered.”

“You sure?” You ask, hesitating to put your money away. It's not like you all are compensated fairly for your slave labor. That and if you let him pay for your drinks, wouldn't you owe him then? No, you reason in your slightly tipsy state, he's paying you back for taking care of Kay, meaning you'll be even and no one will owe anyone anything.

So—you let him buy you more drinks, slowly but surely relaxing, thanks to the alcohol and the easygoing nature of those around you. It's clear how much he cares for Kay by how he's treating you.

It's endearing, you can't deny that. Apparently Rain and Tyler dated for a short period of time, just under a month before Rain realized she was really into Kay. But, instead of getting angry or jealous, Tyler just accepted it, even gave his blessing since Rain was better than the jerk that knocked his sister up anyway.

It's been a good night—a great one, better than you could've ever imagined, but something always has to come along and ruin it. Life just has a funny way of doing that.

“Bjorn, mate!” Tyler yells over the noise, looking towards the front door with his arm waving in the air, flagging someone over, “over here!”

That someone maneuvers around the crowd, appearing at Tyler's side in just under a minute, a grin splitting his face in two as he takes the empty seat next to him, swiping Tyler’s drink to wash down his excitement.

“Good night?” Tyler jokes, taking in Bjorn’s appearance, currently vibrating on the bar stool he's sitting on, his attention focused solely on his cousin.

“I'm fuckin’ buzzin’ mate! I finally beat that stupid fuckin’ level,” he begins, launching into a tirade about some game he's been playing for awhile, hands coming up to wildy gesticulate as he speaks.

Your eyes are automatically drawn to him, analyzing his side profile while he's distracted. He's attractive, probably one of the most attractive men you've ever laid eyes on. From his under plucked brows to the oceanic hue of his irises, the single silver hoop threaded through his ear and the silly little frowny face tattoo on his neck down to the plushness of his pretty pink lips, framed by just the right amount of facial hair. He's perfect. Perfect until he opens his big fucking mouth.

He finally registers who's sitting around the table, eyes angrily narrowing when he zeroes in on Andy, gaze flickering over to Rain, “why tha’ fuck did you bring this rust bucket ‘ere?”

“Bjorn,” both Rain and Tyler preemptively warn, like they know what's about to follow and they probably do, considering he's Tyler’s cousin. Rain takes the lead on this one, adding, “don’t start.”

“And why tha’ fuck not? Ya’ fuckin’ knew how I'd feel if he was ‘ere! Ida’ just stayed tha’ fuck home,” he hisses, accent made thicker by his anger.

Tyler pinches the bridge of his nose, looking exasperated by his cousin already, “we just wanted to come for a pint mate. All of us. No use losin’ your head over it.”

“Right. Right. No use. Just like this hunka junk synth.”

You’ve never had a filter, never needed one when you've grown up never having to consider someone else's feelings so you can't help but snark, “do you practice being an asshole in the mirror or does it just come naturally to you?”

You feel everyone’s eyes on you, probably taken aback by your intervention, not expecting you, a total stranger, to speak up on behalf of Andy. But—you've never been good at biting your tongue, never needed to when you only have yourself to worry about, overconfident in voicing your displeasure when you're the only one who'll be punished for it, unlike those with familial connections who talk back to the higher-ups.

“And who tha’ bloody fuck are you?” He spits, face souring like he's bit into a lemon, looking you up and down, from the flat tabletop that sits under your breasts up to your hairline.

“Not a piece of shit like you,” you retort, squeezing the unopened beer Tyler bought for you, hard enough to crease the label wrapped around the circumference of the glass.

“So!” Tyler interrupts, trying to change the subject, directing his attention to you, “why’d it take ya so long to come out and join us?”

Kay squeezes your knee under the table and Rain looks grateful, reassuring a somewhat confused Andy that he's more than welcome to be here, that he isn't bothering anyone that isn't a totally immature man baby.

“Not really my scene,” you answer, ignoring the crisp hiss of the carbon dioxide being released when you pop the lid on the glass bottle Tyler bought you.

“Oh! Not good enough for ya’ princess?” Bjorn mocks, still simmering with anger from his side of the table.

“No, just not good enough for you, asshat,” you flip him off, still pissed on behalf of Rain and Kay and any girl that has to interact with him, feeling Kay’s fingers curl around your shoulders like she's trying to stop you.

You decide to let it go, for now, despite how angry you are, for Kay, sticking it out until she warns you it's time to leave. Because other than that—fuck that guy

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.191 So long

I tossed and turned last night, and I don't think Sophia got much sleep either. We were so anxious and eager to move into our new home; it's all we could talk about for the rest of the night. Even Desiree had trouble falling asleep. At an appropriate hour, we hopped out of bed, got ready, and had breakfast. Just as we prepared to head out, I received a frantic call from our tenants. They said a toilet was spewing out sewage! I had to get over there right away, but I was very skeptical. Dad and I had no maintenance problems when we lived there, but now they're saying there's some kind of leak? The house was old when he bought it, so it could just be something that would have happened anyway, but I don't think that's the case. I bet they clogged the toilet and now it won't stop running. They better not be flushing diapers.

Jilliana met me at the door and told me where to find the problem as if I didn't know. Owen was in the bathroom trying and failing at cleaning up the mess, and I appreciated the effort.

"How did this happen?" I ask.

"I don't know! One minute I'm sitting here reading the paper and the next it's all coming back at me!"

So, what he's really saying is he uses too much toilet paper. Got it.

"Alright. I'll get it sorted," I said.

That was his cue to leave, but he stands over me as I attempt to decide where to begin. I'm no stranger to the wrench anymore, but I've never fixed a toilet before. And let's not forget how disgusting this entire situation is on top of being watched. I feel ill-equipped to handle this on my own, but I owe it to myself to try, however, so I give it a whirl before calling in a professional.

Without knowing how to start, I treat it just like every other sink I've unclogged. Toilets have plumbing just like sinks do, so surely the mechanics are the same. I get going, all the while trying to avoid getting drenched by the literal shit storm. I can't tell what's worse: a deluge of adult sewage or the smelliest poopy diaper. At some point, Owen sees how useless he is and leaves me alone. I felt much better without eyes on me and keep at it until I eventually stop the leak.

I'm so proud, not just because I avoided getting showered, but because I figured it out. I crushed it! Dad would be so proud of me right now. With the flood stopped, all that's left to do is clean up and leave. I thought about leaving the mess for them to clean up, but I could already see the ratings drop and the negative review. Besides, this is still my house, and the only one who's going to care for it properly is me.

Before leaving, I told the Sages I'm going to do a walk-through and make sure everything else is in order. They were having a nice family moment with their twins and kind of ignored me, so I did what I needed to do. Besides, it was kinda nice to see them in better spirits because first impressions last a long time.

The other bathroom and kitchen sink appeared to be in working order, which made my theory about the toilet paper and/or diaper flushing even stronger. If they call me again soon with the same problem, I know something.

I left them and returned home to gather my family and bid farewell to the house of my dreams. For so long, this house consumed my thoughts. I'd never been so focused or devoted to achieving something before. In the beginning, I had no idea how I'd ever be able to afford such a home, but I manifested it and made it happen. Now, I must close this chapter and move onto the next. We're leaving behind so many memories here, some good, and some bad ones too, but they all make up our story. We wouldn't be the sims we are today without the good, bad, and ugly, so it is with great gratitude that I leave this place. So long, Parkside Place in Hopewell Hills. You've been very good to us.

[creatingblackcharacters]

Ok I wasn't there for the original discussion but I caught up so I thought I'd answer the follow ups.

Why is antiracism not worth standing alone for?

Fears a big part of it. On the internet it would be fear of people ganging up on me if it's someone with clout that I'm critiquing, or the more personal fear of someone hating me though that's more irrational. Especially if I know then it becomes harder than if I don't know them. These series of questions have made me realise how many people share the same feelings as me and it's been enlightening ....

I think, something that makes me second guess is that while people may gang up on me or whatever, it's not a sure thing , and it's going to inevitably be worse for if someone more marginalised speaks up.

Do you feel people are more comfortable assuming the former so that they don't have to interact via the latter?( Feeding the trolls)

I never thought about it like that but I can see myself giving relief to myself if I followed the "feeding the trolls" logic since I'm conflict avoidant. Now that you point it out it's definitely a factor, wanting to be more comfortable rather than calling out racism.

Why do we think that bigotry will go away if it goes unaddressed? Is that how you also feel about bigotry that you experience via your other identities?

I've seen advice before that sometimes NOT giving attention to people when they like, make a bigoted joke or something like that, will discourage them if you don't laugh. I can't actually think of situations where this has worked though...

If someone was violent or more subtly shitty about any of my marginalised identities, I'd definitely feel more safe if someone stood up for me... especially if I don't feel I'm safe enough to say something myself...

Why should we entertain and prioritize the annoyance of bigots? Why do you not deserve to be here and have a safe, comfortable space any more than they do?

This really strikes...I guess, since bigotry is what we are used to and grown to see as "normal" in its many forms is why people don't want to challenge it, including me, I'm working on it...unless we actively challenge it we'll end up becoming a part of it.

What do we plan on doing when Black fans lose their patience due to disillusionment? Are we okay with the outcome of that, of choosing... Well, being racist but safe?

Would we rather Black fans just accept that it's easier to assume everyone is antiblack, the same way it's easier not to speak up against it as a social norm? If we want to show that there is still a welcome for Black fans, that we are safe, why don't we act to show that?

I think while a lot of us nonblack people are against racism in theory when it comes to action and unlearning our own biases we fail. I think many of us don't care and would rather be safe ourselves in a racist space ...of course, this shouldn't be the case.

It honestly disturbs me a lot to think that Black fans would have to assume everyone else is antiblack, because it sounds like a very tough, damaging thing to go through..we should take more action, yes.

If everyone only hangs around people who aren't antiblack, why is the space still so overwhelmingly antiblack? Have you considered that you cannot adequately judge from within?

Yeah. Not a lot to say here but I think a way to judge these things better is to have more Black people's perspectives in one's life.

are you willing to recognize that you have a willing tolerance for antiblackness? That there is a certain amount that you are okay with allowing before thinking it's worth speaking up?

This really threw me. I had to take some time... but yes. I used to go on the logic of " if there's a marginalised person in this space with me, I'll speak up to make them feel safer, but if there's no one then I don't have to say anything and I'll be safer. " Which ...I'm realising is wrong. I mean...what about the bigotry that person who's doing it will spew when I'm NOT around cus no one challenged them?

With Black people specifically I don't know anyone in real life personally atm. But I still grew up in a very antiblack environment. I think it's conditioned me to see whatever hurts Black people as less important and less egregious. Which I have to work out.

Last thing, sort of related, I have gotten into fights over this stuff before in real life and it never turned out well which I think has turned me off the whole thing(direct confrontation )but I think that relates to not clinging to the past and again acknowledging that I've created a certain threshold for antiblackness I'll tolerate to protect myself.

Hm.

[stardew-obsessed-ora]

I've been avoiding posting just so that Ulrich's ref could be my 100th POST. RAHHH. WOOO IT'S DONE!!

For anyone whose new to seeing this man, his name is Ulrich Althaus (Ulrich Mephisto Althaus if we're referring to him in other canons). He's a Technical Lead for Joja Corporations, and despite being introverted, he can come off as rather judgmental to people who don't know him well enough to understand how he speaks. He's around 18 years old when he first arrives in the Republic itself, finding himself staying around Downtown Zuzu for a while. He's somewhere in his late 20s/early 30s when he stations himself in the valley itself and tries to gather the resources to set up a Joja Brand tech store. In his mind, he truly, deeply believes that Joja can help benefit the valley. He ends up having rose-tinted glasses over the company for the longest time, and gradually has those viewpoints shattered the longer he stays within the valley. Of course, I plan on building his lore up gradually and through slow answers here and there, so I'm really trying not to spew out too much :3 also he's ungodly picky i mean he hates more than the average farmer LMFAO. bro has most of the universal hates too

More general description stuff/expansion stuff (fair warning its long):

 Ulrich's personality is a fascinating one. He feels as though he has a reputation to uphold, and will often shut down most, if not all critique coming toward him unless they are genuine. He often-times does not stand for attacks on his own character. Usually though, he’s the one giving critique to others, but it mostly comes off as insults rather than from a genuine place of concern due to how blunt he is. The way he phrases things tends to be derogatory in nature due to his lack of filter. He tends to get annoyed when people act offended, and genuinely doesn’t understand why they took his concern the way they did.

Unfortunately, due to the nature of feeling he has to constantly uphold a reputation, he is quite the perfectionist. It's difficult for him to accept his own mistakes without shutting down and having to distance himself from the situation awhile. To put it simply, he feels like he’s failed those around him through his errors. While he gives others the opportunity to correct their margin of error, he would never give himself that leeway. 

Due to Ulrich’s lack of social understanding, he tends to struggle at fraternizing with others and oftentimes misses obvious jokes or sarcasm within sentences. He is particularly bad at this when matched with tone through text, and will often find himself over-explaining something that didn’t need to be explained to begin with just to be met with “blah blah blah its a joke”. Though his lack of tonal understanding is better in person, he can still be found occasionally left confused and bewildered at interactions.  

Speaking of social scenarios with Ulrich, he is relatively introverted, and prefers brief interactions with strangers in person as to not burn himself out. He prefers interactions with little to no people around, and in general much prefers spaces with little to no activity. This is one of many reasons which his line of work involves remote involvement and virtual meetings on his end. While this issue does not present itself in online chatrooms, he still finds himself burnt out of interaction occasionally if he’s had to speak to those hes unfamiliarized with for too long. 

To those he’s come to know, however, he can be a rather clingy, overprotective individual who wishes for nothing more than to be there for the ones he’s come to love. His clingy nature comes from a place of fear, as he doesn’t want to go through losing someone else he’s come to grow close to. Though, he can be a bit overbearing at points. 

Other Likes:  

 - He highly enjoys programming, creating things from scratch through the languages he knows,  and being able to experience anything which was decently coded. He’s actually a total nerd for video games and especially for computer viruses. He loves being able to dissect things like that. 

He enjoys heavy metal music and EDM. His playlist can be a jumpscare for those entirely oblivious to his music tastes.

He enjoys hiking and exploring alone in his free-time. Its relaxing for him to be able to get out and exercise in any way he can. 

He’s a total dork for mythology and the study of all things surrounding mythological creatures. 

He gets overly hyper during the festival of the moonlight jellies 

He’d never actually admit it, but he really likes dancing, the art behind dancing, and is a decent dancer himself. 

Other Dislikes: 

He has a phobia of needles

He’s outright terrified of Krampus. His father told him ONE tale for bedtime and it forever sealed his fate. 

He dislikes overly loud and obnoxious individuals, finding them quick to drain him. 

He dislikes summer, finding himself overheating easily in the harsh sun

Despite being a Joja employee, he somewhat holds disdain for the way a majority of the branches are run. 

Geese. I don’t need to explain this one, I’m sure it’s justifiable.

Strengths:

One of Ulrich’s greatest strengths is how agile he is. Being relatively skilled on his feet, he is able to run away from most confrontations. Of course, he’d find that shameful, so instead he uses this agility of his to get to and from places at concerning speeds. He might have knee issues, but that doesn't mean he's not fast as fuck.

He's a total computer nerd. Got a tech problem? He’s probably your guy to help out. 

He’s a surprisingly good chef

He was also taught a decent amount of fishing by his father, making him decent at it. 

He’s very outspoken about how he feels regarding any given situation

Weaknesses:

He’s ass at farming. Do not make this man do farmwork, you’ll regret it deeply. Please PLEASE don’t make this man do farm work.

He has the depth perception of a literal toddler. If he’s running somewhere, there’s a 50% chance he’ll slam into a pole on the way there.

As stated in his bio, he has difficulty in social situations. This can make bonding with others difficult, and causes him his fair share of conflict. Especially when he mistakes a joke as a snide remark and starts to comment about how it shouldn’t have been said and it spirals out of control.

He’s stubborn to a fault. He has a very stern set of morals which are hard to bend. Not only that, but his strict internal code causes him to react oddly to anything which bends it even slightly, causing even MORE conflict on his part. 

He’s very outspoken about how he feels regarding any given situation

close up on some things that might be hard to read + the chibis that im absurdly attached to (i might post them standalone)

[sevenf1ng3rs]

His Burden: Chapter 10

Chapter 10: A Great Gatsby moment

Word Count: 1.7K

Pairings: Namjoon x Reader

Genres: Innocent!Reader, Troubled!Namjoon, Blossoming Relationship, Big Secret, Fluff, Angst, Smut, Humor.

Rating: 18+, Mature

Warnings: Drinking implied, Sexual dancing, Angst, Big reveal

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

The Next Day

You start your shift just like any other day, Maddie coming in a few minutes after you.

"Wow! That's the earliest I've ever seen you come in," you say to her in a mocking tone.

"Ok, Miss Perfect, what about it? Can't I show up to work at a reasonable time," she responds over her shoulder, rolling her eyes.

"No, props to you. It's just a little unexpected," you respond.

"Well, I'm trying to get my shit together. There's this guy I've been seeing who's extremely rich; he's like the CEO of some big corporation or something," she explains, proud of the man she bagged.

"Alright, I see you," you reply, impressed.

The shift goes by, as long and tedious as ever. The only thing getting you through is the excitement for when you finally get to leave. Gossiping with Maddie while you work is always fun, but when you do it every day for hours at a time, it only gets more boring.

"So you're going to this party tonight, right?" Maddie asks, expecting your usual weak excuse for why you can't attend.

"Yeah, Ben invited me," you reply casually.

"Hmmm," she responds, clearly wanting you to question her for more detail.

"Hmmm, what?"

"Nothing, I just think Ben likes you," she shrugs.

"No way, he's like a little brother to me," you respond quickly.

"Well, don't be surprised if he tries something," she says, side-eyeing you from where she stands.

"I promise you, he won't," you say with finality. You are convinced that Maddie is only spewing her usual craziness.

—

Later That Day

You sit in your room contemplating what to wear. You flick through your closet, each article looking more boring than the last.

Ughhh, I don't want to dress too casually, but I don't want to seem like a slut.

You reach into the back of your closet and pull out the box of clothes that Maddie's given you, the ones you were sure would never see the light of day.

You grab a pink bandeau top and a tight black skirt, something not too revealing but undoubtedly the shortest skirt in your closet. It's not something you'd usually wear, but it's fitting for the occasion. You choose black heels to match and look at yourself in the mirror.

I don't know. No, this is too much. Let me just put on a longer top or something-

RING RING

Oh shit, he's here. Well, I can't change now- I'll just bring a jacket in case.

You grab a black leather jacket and run downstairs to be greeted by Ben in a white shirt, long pants, and... a black leather jacket.

This is so awkward. It totally looks like we're wearing a couple outfit or something.

"Ready to go?" Ben asks, noticing your accidental matching clothes, a smile creeping onto his face.

"Yup," you say with a small smile and walk out of your apartment with him.

It takes 30 minutes by Uber to get to the party, but once you arrive, you realize it was worth the long ride. It's a large white house with a sprawling staircase to a straight-up mansion. Once you arrive, you hear people yelling, "Party of the year."

You walk in with Ben and immediately feel like all eyes are on the two of you.

I didn't realize how famous Ben is with the ladies; it seems like everyone's staring at him.

"Wow, you have a whole entourage," you say, pointing with your eyes at all the girls staring.

"I don't think the guys over there are looking at me," Ben replies, nodding to your right.

I didn't even realize all the boys over there. I can see their eyes pinned to my body.

You hug your jacket a little closer subconsciously and avoid their stares as you continue to walk with Ben.

Once you got through the door, you walked into the main party room. The ceilings were extremely high, with a giant crystal chandelier directly in the center of the room. Ben and you dance for a while, drink some and dance some more. Eventually, you find Maddie, you are excited to see her, but she is doing lines in the bathroom with other girls. Yikes, not really my scene, you think to yourself as you creep out of the bathroom. You return to the main room to find Ben talking to a group of girls. You decide not to bother him and drink some more instead.

Suddenly the host of the house walks out onto the main balcony inside. It's like a Great Gatsby moment. He's tall with dark hair, standing beside this beautiful blonde girl. They're both dressed to the 10's.

Hmmm, he kind of looks like Namjoon. How weird.

"Hello, everyone. I'm Taehyung; this is my beautiful girlfriend, Tiffany. We have this party every year to meet people in the area, specifically some of the beautiful people we have here tonight, am I right?" Everyone claps and hollers. "However, last year, I came across this beautiful girl, who I can now proudly call my girlfriend. So let's raise a toast to meeting our soulmates tonight." Everyone cheers as he raises his glass with a smirk. "Speaking of, I would like to introduce my newly single brother Namjoon." Namjoon walks out awkwardly, seemingly forced in front of the crowd, from behind Taehyung. He glances around briefly, a bored expression on his face, and then turns back around. As he does so, he does a double take as he catches someone's eye- your eye. He starts to run downstairs towards you, but so many people are crowding around him now that he's having difficulty reaching you. The girls crowding around him begin to say, "Wow, he's so hot; no way he's single."

No fucking way. This HAS to be a joke. How dare he, after we just talked about becoming exclusive.

You fume angrily at the stunt, your face painted with a scowl.

Ben notices your change in mood, "Hey, you good?" he questions, looking down at you.

Instead of responding to Ben rationally, you grab his hand and bring him to the dance floor. Without thinking, you start to grind on him, knowing Namjoon must be watching. Ben looks at you in shock as you've never acted like this around him but traces your body with his eyes. He knows he won't have another chance to be this close to you while you're sober, so he puts his arms around you and pulls you into his hips.

Suddenly, a strong arm grabs you from Ben and the crowd before you can process it. The grip on your wrist is tight, and you can't break it off.

"When the hell do you think you're doing-" a voice starts angrily.

You turn slightly to meet his eyes. "Oh, Namjoon, having fun?" you reply sarcastically, annoyed that he interrupted you.

"Come with me," he says, his face like stone.

"I want to go back to dancing, back to Ben," you whine, starting to pull back to where Ben stands.

He tightens his grip. "Stop before I get angry," he looks at you irritatedly.

Ben watches furiously as Namjoon pulls you away from him. He drags you upstairs, people clearing the way after seeing the intensity of his glare. He pulls you into a bedroom far away from the party going on downstairs. It looks like his childhood room, with pictures of him and what looks like his brothers from when they were little, along with some other friends. He closes and locks the door behind him, finally letting go of the firm grip on your wrist.

"What do you want?" you snap at him.

He silently backs you into the wall, placing his hands on either side of you, trapping you between the wall and him.

"So you're single now, huh?" you question flatly.

"Right back at you," he sneers, staring into your eyes.

"I told you already," you start, getting close to his face as you speak. "Ben and I are just-"

Your sentence is cut short by Namjoon's lips on yours. He immediately dominates your mouth, pressing hard and rough. The kiss is all tongue and teeth. He kisses you like he's trying to reclaim his territory. He grabs your wrists and holds them above your head against the wall. You want to push him off you but can't because he's too strong. At least, that's what you tell yourself.

Why can't I stop kissing him? He tastes so good; it's like a drug. What's wrong with me?

Namjoon then starts sliding you up the wall, lifting and tugging you into him until your legs are wrapped around his lower abdomen, hips flush to yours. He lets go of your arms, and you drape them over each shoulder, still making out with him passionately. His head twists from side to side, attempting to taste you from every angle. His tongue is rough against yours. His mouth is hot, and his plush lips encapsulate yours repeatedly. When his lips slot between yours, you take the upper hand and bite his lip hard. It's enough to inflict pain, but he barely flinches, only moaning at the dominance you presented to him. He snakes his hands behind your back, bringing your chest flush to his. He flattens his hands against your back to hold you steadier and brings your body, still wrapped around him, to the bed. He lays you down beneath him, mouths still attached and tongues tangling wildly. You take your hand from his back and trail it down his stomach, headed towards his waistband, fidgeting with his belt. The moment he feels the contact, he pulls himself off of you.

"Why do you do this to me?" he says, exasperated.

"Do what to you?" you ask, remarkably confused.

"You know we can't do it, not yet, I told you," he explains, running his hands through his hair.

"I know, it's just that I want you. I feel like I can't be without you," you plead with him.

The wetness in your underwear is suddenly an unwelcome intrusion.

"I want you inside of me—no one else, just you," you say, the desire lingering in your voice.

"You don't get it; we can't!" Namjoon yells.

Namjoon faces the wall and leans against it with his head in his hand. You wrap your arms around him, hugging his waist from behind.

"It's fine, just tell me, it can't be that bad. It's not like you've killed someone," you try and reason with him.

"I have," Namjoon says, wholly defeated.

You freeze. 

[nobully]

💔 18? 👀👀👀

KISSING  MEME | 18. a kiss that draws blood.

‘ You're a weirdo, ' Wang Yi mutters as he wipes blood off the edge of his blade.

"And you sound pent-up. Is that all you want to say?" Next to him, a tall, dark-haired man stands with a palm resting over his shoulder. Blood seeps out from the cracks between his fingers and soaks through his clothes.

Wang Yi keeps his head down as he considers the question. ' Please don't kill me? ' he tries after a second. ' Or maybe, don't sneak up on someone holding a knife? '

Belial just smiles and leans over far enough to drip blood on the asphalt between them, leaving tiny crimson puddles by their shoes. "What about you take some pity and plug me up nice and tight so I stop leaking from my…hole?"

Wang Yi takes a wary step back, leery of the language. ‘ The knife didn't stab you that hard. '

A completely inappropriate and sensuous moan follows his words, making him further knit his brows. Unfortunately, it doesn't stop Belial from spewing out more filth.

"You left me so wet and excited that I'm still dripping from the inside. After just one thrust—a shallow one, too. Though I could teach you some better techniques—"

' NO. No thanks. ' But Wang Yi does frown and brush past him to walk towards the end of the alleyway. ' I don't have bandages, but we can buy some at a pharmacy two blocks away. Just hold on— ' He takes one step into the streets, freezes, and doubles back again.

Belial watches in amusement as Wang Yi almost runs to the wall at the end of the their dead end and starts looking for a place to climb up.

"What is it?"

' Yeah, nothing too bad, just some people I'm avoiding coming this way. '

“And you’re running because?"

' I'm not equipped to fight off five guys. ' That's as much as he'll share. Stupid 30-minute time limit, he could barely brainwash anything within those parameters. Meanwhile, the walls are too high and too smooth. There are no window ledges close enough to hold onto, much less trash cans to climb. He is so, so screwed.

Wang Yi doubles back again and decides he'll just make a run for it. ' I'll lead them off while you stay here. We can meet up later— '

Belial smoothly sidesteps to block his way. "When we’ve barely started our foreplay? You're wounding me here, human."

' Yeah well, maybe fix some of your pickup lines first, ' he retorts and tries to shove him aside. Immediately Belial groans, slumping against the wall while still clutching his injury, and Wang Yi stops in spite of the exaggerated acting.

' Is it really that bad? ' It does seem like the spot hasn't stopped bleeding since he stabbed it, but who knows what funky physiology made up this guy's parts? Besides perpetual horny, he means.

"Oh, yeah," Belial replies back breathlessly. "First time penetration's always a—"

' Forget I asked. ' Wang Yi grimaces. He hears footsteps next, so when Belial turns his head towards the sound of the noise he impulsively cups the man's face and turns him back. ' Can you not look? The point is to avoid attracting attention. '

Belial opens his mouth to (10/10) make another lewd joke and Wang Yi thinks, god no not again please shut the fuck up before pulling him down to kiss him.

It works.

Maybe a little too well…?!

He'd only meant to touch their lips together but Belial welcomes him all the way, returning his gesture with a kiss he can only describes as soft but sensual. To which Wang Yi thinks, weird, I thought he'd be rougher for some reason?

Wait, it's not like I actually wanted to kiss him—

"You should get into it more. They're looking,' Belial murmurs around his mouth and huh, that's gentle too.

Whatever. It's like one of those clichéd movie plots. So Wang Yi listens and closes his eyes to kiss back. The group of footsteps that stopped outside the alley eventually pick up again and move on. He waits for a while until they've faded away, trying and half-failing to ignore the the guy still sucking his face to the point his lips have turned numb, and opens his mouth to speak.

' I think we're don—nngh? ' Words turn garbled as a tongue darts in, and suddenly everything feels far too hot, like he's been doused in a tub of liquid honey. Something tastes tantalizingly sweet and it's filling his mouth with a tremendous thirst that makes him restless.

...apples? Wang Yi identifies the flavor before he flushes. ' W-wai, uhm...! '

The tongue probes deeper and he almost chokes, not from lack of air, but the new heights of ecstasy the sensation brings. His legs buckle and Belial thoughtfully pushes him back until he's plastered against the alley wall. Wang Yi ends up clinging to the guy's shirt (what little of it he can grab anyways) for support as his mind goes completely blank.

What the hell what the hell what the hell?

Is this still a kiss, or is Belial just fucking his mouth? The thought is as incredible as it is insane. He tries to back away, but fingers catches the back of his head and quietly urge him forward. They're wet and slick against his hair, and he realizes that this is the same hand that was resting over Belial's injury as his nostrils fill with the scent of blood. That almost wakes him up, though in a different way—blood pounding through his ears as his partner deepens their kiss to the point that Wang Yi makes an involuntary noise in his throat.

He almost loses it, but again the thought flitters through his head: too soft. It's all pleasure without the pain, which feels too much like a dream to drown in its depths, so the next time Belial tongues him (well, tongues him more)—

—Wang Yi bites down.

It's his subconscious urges coming to play, but the taste of blood and muffled grunt that follows fills him with more satisfaction than anything else. That is until Belial laughs in his mouth and bites back—on the lips—and Wang Yi realizes between the pain that, oh, I like this too. Hazily he moves his hand across the man's chest, higher towards his shoulder, until he finds the spot still seeping blood and presses down with his thumb—nothing.

No reaction?

A little disappointed, Wang Yi curls his fingers to dig in with his nails and—oh. Oh. His eyes flutter open to the sensation of fingers gripping his chin as something sharp presses against his cheek and damn, I think his nails are longer than mine.

An angel smiles down at him before he’s eaten alive.

***

“You like it rough, don't you? Entering me dry like that."

' ...please shut up. '

There is blood on Wang Yi's lips (his) and more (not his) smeared on his neck and clothes as he sits on his heels on the ground of a dingy alleyway in Cotes, wondering what the hell prompted him to get mouthfucked by a stranger for too-many-minutes straight before he got inspired to finish the session with a knife to Belial's gut.

This one didn't go that deep either, but it's far enough to stick, and Wang Yi just ends up leaving it there while he stops to question his life choices. His mouth is painfully (pleasantly?) numb, his clothes are undone, and there is probably dried blood sticking to his hair but it's still a world better than the guy who looks like he's half-dipped himself in red dye for kicks on one side of his torso.

We look like we tried to murder each other.

At least their pants were still on. A part of him's wondering why this guy hasn't killed him yet for daring to stab him twice but the other part knows exactly what's up, and before Wang Yi can have one side muffle the other Belial's already pulled out the weapon and dropped it on the ground by his feet.

"Next time," he says, sounding more amused than anything else, "I'll show you how to penetrate someone properly."

' There is no next— ' Wings flap and winds pick up; once again, the fallen angel is gone.

Wang Yi licks his bloodied lips and thinks, Shit.

[ickybby]

sometimes, fawn can't help but wonder if the family is just comprised of black sheeps. each of them seemingly screwed up beyond repair in their unique ways. at one point, it appears fawn's getting a shot at normalcy until that pesky boredom breeds an impulsive streak. when there's no one she confides in about this or the piss-poor choices coming into play, there's no one around to give her a reality check about the serious consequences and the possible ramifications she could be facing. jonah would've been the person fawn went to babble to. but early adulthood's self-consciousness leaves her pulling away from the people who had always been a constant in her life in favor of outsourcing the attention and excitement she's craving from strangers online. instead of leaning into their newfound awkwardness until it passes, fawn avoids the feeling and (by default) her sibling at all costs. fawn's humiliated to have her (not so) private business put on blast by none other than her older brother. though maybe glad if something could be done to remedy the disconnect.

the buzzing between her thighs is becoming more difficult to tune out. she drops her hold on him as her erratic breathing sends the inky waves of luscious locks rippling around her shoulders, the ends tickling her collarbone. when she speaks, the soft lilt to her tone is shockingly gentle. genuine in the meaning of her words, despite the abrasively blunt way she doesn't hesitate to question him. not necessarily a challenge but rather someone vying for the truth, reminiscent of a youthful inquisitiveness she's yet to outgrow. “are you actually upset that this is how i'm spending my time?” dainty hands wave the smartphone for emphasis before tucking it behind the string of her bikini, the weight of it stretching the material dangerously close to exposing her mound, the skin there smooth save for the small patch of hair meticulously groomed into a heart just above her slick slit. "—- or are you pissed you didn't know sooner? i'm kinda getting mixed signals here." her eyes trail down to the outline of his cock straining against his jeans, wondering what he looks like underneath the layers of clothing.

"i can be honest if you can," there's that lively edge to her voice again. a twinkle of playfulness lights up eyes so dark they almost look black as she dangles the proposition before him. "for example, i — i'm not giving you all the credit. the toy's built up some anticipation too. i mean, it was here before you." try as she might, that's about as close to the truth she can get to. still a tad too timid to mimic the filth jonah's spewing even if there are strands of truth woven in there. her mouth parts open as he continues to toy with her body, pink tongue lapping at her bottom lip as fawn tries to regain her focus. where his strengths air on the side of stoical defenses, fawn's vulnerability and her tendency to romanticize landed her opposite that spectrum. he's perfected his phlegmatic nature to work in his favor. while she's barely had time to tread in the extreme waves of emotions she's prone to drowning in. much less get a grip on regulating her sensitivities. "that's different. it's made for..." the word virgins dies on her lips as if that's enough to stop him from gaining ammunition. "shut up. i don't need to explain this to you. why do you even care how many fingers i can take? are YOURS going in there? or is this about as far as—" her hips squirm against his finger, soft glossy lips parting with another dulcet moan. there's a strange pang of jealousy and excitement that hits; though fawn can't help the vivid images jonah's crude confession brings to life. maybe it's the weed leaving her surroundings feeling surreal, or perhaps the fact that she's just a fucked up person without pot involved; regardless, fawn no longer cares enough to be coy. "honestly, jonah? i was kinda just teasing you to see if i could like, reverse psychology you into fucking me. think i did it wrong. but i lost my psych textbook. don't tell, 'kay?"

his sister had created an entire online persona for herself and jonah had been entirely ignorant to it, blissfully ( or not really, considering the lectures from their mother ) unaware of what she was really undertaking in the privacy of her room. neither of them had what anyone would or could call a 'conventional' upbringing and maybe, maybe fawn was now experiencing the aftershocks of it? although jonah definitely would have preferred she do something more pg like actually game fully clothed. what else was she hiding? looking at her now it was as if he was staring in to a mirror cracked directly down the middle ; the sister he thought he knew and the slutty girl who played with herself for random people to tip and enjoy. they'd always been undeniably in sync with one another, he was the one person he could rely on outside of his own mother. there'd been an inherent comfort in it until she began pulling away, as if she too deemed herself above him somehow.

"annoyingly charming?" his brows knit together at her choice of words, how in any other situation he'd laugh and call her an idiot. now his cock is rigid inside his trousers and he can't quite manage to pull his gaze away from her pussy for longer than a few seconds. "that's a way of puttin' it fawn and for the record i was immune until you started pullin' this shit", the justification for his arousal came in the form of so many internal statements, some he'd voiced and others he hadn't. his sister was doing it for an audience so why not him? she was spreading her legs and playing with her pussy, so why couldn't he enjoy it too? she was a grown woman and while he hadn't noticed the transition happening, she was beautiful and likely far too out of his league had she not been his own sister.

weed enters his system and coats his insides in a languid haze, limbs loosening and cock aching as he plays with his little sibling's clothed cunt. "that toy got you this responsive or are you just thirsting for your own brother's cock that badly?" his finger continues it's torture on her hole, feeling the warmth of her pussy through the thin slip of fabric. fuckin' cow print. "what?" feigned innocence appears on his features, though his finger doesn't let up, he's having too much fun. "thought you could handle it, no? sure looked like you could when you were stuffing that toy into your bikini a minute ago." scoffing his hues roll at her weak attack on him, those insults like tiny pebbles attempting to crack the hard exterior he's had to build over the years. "how would you know what'll hurt and what won't? bet you can't even fit two fingers inside this, can you?" head dips so their eyes connect, finger pressing just a shade harder against the fabric. "of course it counts, i slipped my dick into her wet cunt. i fucked that needy bitch and she liked it. is that what you wanna hear faw?"

[shangchiswife]

norman osborn- experimental game

summary: you and norman humiliate each other and harry tries to mend the pieces together which results in something that you didn't expect

norman osborn x fem! reader

sort of enemies to lovers kinda thing

warnings: age gap, cursing, borderline smut

word count: 2223

Opening the door to your advanced Biology class and seeing your friend Harry's father, Norman Osborn stand in front of the class was something that you did not expect.

Expecting your usual professor Dr. Connors, you usually arrived late since he didn't particularly mind.

The whole class turned their eyes to you.

You were usually late you didn't know why they were all staring it was making you quite uncomfortable.

"You're late," Mr. Osborn said sharply as he narrowed his eyes at you before you took an empty seat in the front of the class, a flustered look on your face.

"I'm sorry it's just...where's Dr. Connors, sir? I was just expecting him," you questioned, your voice quiet.

"He is currently at a convention out of New York...now before I was so rudely interrupted let's continue about my work, hm?" the man ran a hand through his auburn hair as some students suppressed laughs at your dispense.

You could see some girls fawning over him in the back, arching their backs to listen eagerly to every word that he was spewing.

You pursed your lips before narrowing your eyebrows.

This was not the first interaction you hoped with your idol. You had been a huge fan of Norman Osborn's work and had written multiple papers on him. And now here he was belittling you.

Some idol.

You crossed your arms as you glared at Mr. Osborn while he continued his introduction.

Norman cast his blue eyes onto you and scanned your vexed expression.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked clearly bored which made you want to pull your hair out.

"Nothing's wrong," you forced out, trying to keep your harsh tone at bay.

"Nothing's wrong what?" Mr. Osborn lifted his chin up, his eyebrows knitting.

Was he serious?

"Nothing's wrong, sir," you corrected yourself as a smug look came across his face.

"Good now because you've interrupted my speech twice and I don't want you to do it again," Norman threatened, his blue eyes glinting dangerously.

The people around you gave you sympathetic glances.

What the fuck was wrong with this man who was supposed to be your idol. This man was supposed to be this amazing man making great discoveries in the world. Who knew that he would turn out to be a huge asshole.

"Sorry, sir," you felt your skin grow warm from the anger that consumed your system.

Satisfied with your fake apology Norman continued his speech until the bell rang.

You tried to scramble out of the classroom quickly, trying to avoid any eye contact with Norman Osborn.

"Miss L/N," the voice of Mr. Osborn rang as you shut your eyes.

How did he even know your name?

Most of the class had emptied at this point as you sighed, slinging your backpack over your shoulder and walking over to him.

He was no doubt an extremely handsome man with his slicked-back auburn hair and fit body dressed in a suit that suited him well.

"Yes, Mr. Osborn?" you questioned, crossing your arms indicating your dismay.

"It's Dr. Osborn actually," he corrected making you almost scream with annoyance.

"Bit overdressed for college huh?" you bit back making a smirk form on the man's face.

At this point, everyone had left the classroom leaving you with this man.

"Look whatever you have to say can you make it quick because I got to go to my next class," you tapped your foot impatiently.

"Dr. Connors tells me that you're a big fan of mine," a cocky grin formed on Norman's facade.

Not anymore you wanted to say.

"Oh not really I just appreciate your work," you said nonchalantly as you pulled your skirt down as you noticed him staring lustfully at your figure.

If he hadn't been a bitch earlier then you would've been lenient on his stare since he was extremely attractive and his work was amazing. You would've thought of it as a dream.

"Hm...he says differently but I was going to offer you an opportunity. There's an opening for a job at Oscorp and looking at your grades and profile I think that you'd be a great fit for Oscorp," his blue eyes locked with yours.

"You're offering me a job after the stunt you pulled with me today?" you stared at him with disbelief.

"I'm sorry but someone has to reprimand you for being late and giving dirty looks," Norman shrugged his shoulders.

You ignored his comment.

"Whatever, you don't do that in front of the whole class so no I will not be taking your stupid job. Clearly, your son's kindness did not come from you. So good day...not," you hissed as you stomped out of the class.

Norman narrowed his eyes angrily.

How dare this ungrateful brat humiliate him like this.

....

It was a few days later when Harry had invited you over to his house for dinner when you finally talked to Harry about what happened in an old coffee shop.

"Look I don't know if this is a good idea because...your dad definitely hates me," you explained as the dark-haired boy ran a hand through his hair confusedly.

"What why?" he questioned.

"Well, a few days ago I guess he was subbing for Dr. Connors and I came in late so he basically humiliated me and I was mad since he's well was my idol,"

Harry waved his hand forward urging you to go on.

"And then after class, he told me that Dr. Connors had told him that I'm a fan of his and offered me a job," you continued.

"Oh no please tell me you said yes," Harry winced as he took a long sip from his coffee.

"Yeah, so I declined very VERY harshly and basically stormed off," you offered him a yikes face.

"Shit Y/N, are you okay though? I'm sorry he was a dick," he put a hand on your shoulder and pulled you in for a hug from across the table.

"I'm fine but your dad is an arrogant asshole," you said thinking about the handsome man who had been so cruel towards you.

"Trust me I know," Harry chuckled as he put an arm around your neck.

"But please come...maybe we can all get this behind us and have a nice dinner,"

You rolled your eyes as you drank from your mug.

Norman Osborn was your idol and there was a small part of you that really wanted him to be the great guy that you always looked up to.

"Fine," you shrugged your shoulders as Harry pulled you in for a hug once again.

"I'll fix this all up...and remember to wear something pretty," Harry smirked as you shook your head and then headed out of the coffee shop.

....

It was a few days later and you found yourself standing outside of the Osborn mansion dressed in a floral pink vintage dress and a long black coat over you.

Harry answered the door and immediately let you in.

"Why don't you look like a dream," he smirked, a smirk very similar to his father.

You let out a small laugh as he kissed you on the cheek and then took your coat and handed it over to the maid.

When Harry walked you over to the dining room you could already see Norman sitting at the head of the table staring down at his red-colored soup.

Harry took your hand and squeezed it comfortingly as Norman lifted his eyes up to look at you.

You looked beautiful in your dress.

Norman never denied your beauty when he first met you. In fact, he found you being a fan of his very adorable. And if you had took up his job he would have offered a long list of other benefits in addition to the job.

"Miss L/N," he said politely standing up and taking your hand, and pressing a small kiss on it.

You felt your whole body grow warm before withdrawing your hand.

No matter how much attraction you felt towards the man you were still furious at him for the way he treated you.

You took a seat beside Harry and kept your eyes away from Norman ignoring how dashing he looked in his white button-down shirt.

You took a bite off of the corner of the bread piece you were offered and listened to the conversation that Norman and Harry were having.

You zoned out when you heard the word "business."

The maid served you dinner and you eagerly took a bite out of the buttery mashed potatoes.

"So Y/N, are you going to take the job?" a voice snapped you out of your own thoughts as you looked up to see Harry and Norman both looking at you.

You bit your lip to hold your tongue from spitting out the angry words that occupied your thoughts.

"Are you kidding me? After the way, he treated me hell no," you spat as you saw Norman's hand clench into a fist.

Noticing the tension, Harry sprung up out of his chair.

"You know what I have an idea of how we can fix this," his eyes glinted with mischief as you rubbed your temples.

"Whenever you have an idea it usually doesn't end well," you crossed your arms as you saw Norman take a peek at your peeking breasts.

"Eyes up here, Osborn," you growled as you saw Norman's face turn red with anger.

"Before you two kill each other just come on and do what I say," Harry glanced at the both of you, his chocolate eyes kind and hopeful.

How could you say no to that face?

Harry took both of your hands and led you upstairs.

"Where are you taking us, Harold," your tone was cold as you stared at Norman Osborn who stood next to you glaring daggers at you.

Suddenly both of your bodies were pushed into a room and you landed on Norman's chest.

The door slammed behind you and the sound of a lock was heard.

"What the fuck, Harry," you jumped off of the man's chest and started banging on the door.

It seemed that you two were stuck in a bathroom.

"I'm not letting you out until your issues are resolved. I'll be back in an hour...but don't kill each other please," Harry's voice was slightly muffled before you heard the sound of his footsteps retreating.

"Harry come on!" you banged your fists on the door.

"There's no point in trying, sweetheart," Norman stood up and brushed the dust off his dark pants.

"This is so childish and immature...and don't call me sweetheart," you snapped.

Norman's face grew red again as he stormed towards you, smoke practically pouring out his ears.

He shoved you against the door and placed a hand on your throat.

"Do you know how humiliated you made me when you didn't accept my offer? Anyone would be grateful to have a job offered by me," his mad blue eyes looked down at yours which started to swim with dots.

He released the pressure on your throat before you coughed out in pain.

Once you regained your composure you threw him a dirty look.

"I made you humiliated? You humiliated me in front of my whole class TWICE!" you roared as he bitterly laughed.

"Boo hoo little Y/N got humbled in front of her class," a smirk formed on his face as he leaned back against the sink.

Angrily, you sauntered over to him and put your face close to him.

"Don't ever call me little again or you'll be sorry," you sneered, spit flying onto his face.

"I'll be sorry, hm?" he asked before he grabbed your body and switched positions so that he was towering over you and you were at his disposal.

"I'd be very careful who you're talking to," he cackled maniacally before unwantedly you felt desire pooling in your entire system.

Out of all of the situations, this was the one that had to turn you on.

You grabbed the man by his auburn hair and pulled his lips to yours.

A groan was suppressed from him but he didn't stop kissing you.

He gripped your throat and pulled away from your puffy lips.

"So this is what you wanted in the end, hm? To be fucked by your idol," he growled as you smiled.

"Is this what you wanted? To fuck someone that challenges you?" your smile turned into a smirk before Norman went back to kissing you aggressively.

His hands wandered around your body and then stopped to grip your ass making you moan which made Norman bite your lip.

The environment was starting to grow hot very fast as you got off the sink and fumbled for the zipper of your dress.

Growling because you were taking too long, Norman almost ripped the dress off of you as his lustful eyes laid onto the lacy black bra and panties you were wearing.

"My, aren't you a naughty girl," he smirked which made you move your thighs together.

"This wasn't for you by the way, I had a date after this and I was going to wear this for him," you teased hoping to elicit a reaction out of him.

You got what you wanted because Norman bent you back on the sink and took off his shirt.

"Sweetheart you're really asking for it," his voice was honey-sweet while his intentions were dark.

His hands roamed all around your body and gave your ass another squeeze making you moan with pleasure.

"Just fuck me already, why are you taking so long," you twisted clearly uncomfortable as you tried to move your hips against his to get rid of the ache.

Norman pulled away and held your hips in place.

"You don't order me around, whore otherwise you'll get punished which is exactly what's about to happen now," a dark smile appeared on Norman's face which made your heart beat fast.

You were definitely going to have a hard time walking after this.

[maximumsunshine]

Good luck tomorrow!!!! I hope you find the answers you're looking for, and whatever the issue is is manageable and resolved quickly! I believe in you!!!

Tests were today. Made the post late night and stayed up all night so I'm not sure when tomorrow became today.

ANYWAY

The tests went well. MRI results in my portal nut in medical speak. No Nuclear Med test results yet. That was an interesting test. "Hey we're going to IV you this med that is the equivalent of two really fatty meals so you are SUPER going to want to puke. Here is a puke bag. Try not to puke though just because we know puking sucks. And no we can't let you take your zofran because that sort of defeats the purpose. Sorry. But once the drug is administered you pretty much lose the going to puke feeling. So we just gotta get through this little bit if meds. It's a small amount but we administer it slowly because if given it too fast you will for sure puke. Wait. You mean if i let you lay down on your left side (I had been sitting up) and arrange your arms just so, you can probably completely even avoid serious nausea?! Give me a minute, I'll go find a gurney." And thus I avoided puking. AND THEN she pulled another syringe of meds out of a lead tube, incases it in a smaller lead shield, and then injected THAT directly into my veins. Lol. So yeah, I'm radioactive right now. Not sure when my system will flush that bit. But I find it funny. I watched her remove the syringe from this massive lead case and put it in a smaller lead shield and I'm just like, "Oh. It's RADIOACTIVE radioactive. Lol"

Anyway, no nuke test results in yet. And I don't understand the MRI results. But my doctor will be able to figure out what's up soon enough and will explain it so I can understand.

I sort of feel like I'm going crazy. Like maybe nothing is wrong. After years of doctors invalidating me telling me I'm just fat, maybe I'm really just fat. But my blood work does validate that something is going in. And that something started when my gallbladder was removed. And we KNOW my gallbladder pissed my liver off because it made the surgery much harder. And then my liver spewed bile just loose into my abdominal cavity for a month and i got sepsis and hadvto have a drain installed. Like we have all this evidence that even I can understand that my liver is fucked up and it ties into my gallbladder not being yoinked fast enough. And we know it took as long as it did for my gallbladder issue to even BE FOUND because when I told my old doctor i was feeling pain and pointed to roughly where my gallbladder was, she tolde it was just me being fat. Those words. Cramps from being fat. Doctors also blamed 5 years of severe anemia that led to many a blood transfusion on "me not making my own blood" because I was fat. And THAT was cancer. So yeah.

When a doctor dismisses a symptom as you just being fat, get a new doctor before you get a new symptom.

Anyway, I have a better pcp now who takes me seriously and doesn't call me fat. I have a better hemotologist oncologist who takes my cancer history seriously and does regular checks and has never called me fat. He was the one that found my liver numbers in his routine blood tests he orders fir me and sounded the alarm which explained the nausea and fatigue and got me into a great GI doctor. Who omg he listened to me talk and talk. He took fucking detailed notes on every word i said. He let me give him my full GI history and all my current symptoms. First visit lasted an hour and I left there with more blood work ordered and these two major tests ordered. He took me so seriously he ordered major tests in the first visit. I'm loves him. I love them all.

I settled for shit doctors that almost let me die from cancer all while promising me i didn't have cancer (literally) all while refusing to run any tests.

I went from wearing this to my hemotologist oncologist and him finding it funny.

To no longer needing it. Because all my new doctors take me seriously and run tests.

I knew i was dying. I was told I had the best hemotologist oncologist in Columbus. So what was the point in finding a different one? Yeah. Well the assessment of his abilities came from his coworkers at Ohio Health. All of that bullshit was Ohio Health. When I showed up in the ER with a hemoglobin of 4 and had my cancer found and removed within 2 days, that wasn't an Ohio Health ER. I didn't just fire a doctor or two. I fired an entire medical system.

Anyway that was an unexpected rant. But I have complicated feeling about medical shit. Like trying to reconcile years of medical abuse that ended in serious trauma just over a year ago. With the overwhelming change in quality of care I'm getting now. It's a full 180. I'm trying to catch my breath. Which, i guess will be easier when this liver bullshit is figured out and corrected.

Then i can focus my efforts on being retested for asthma. Maybe get care for that. Figure out my headaches. Need an mri on my neck for the constant pinched nerves in my shoulders. So much to move on to when the liver is figured out. But there is great comfort in knowing without a doubt my pcp has my back.

/end rant

Oh. That shirt is a 3xl and in good shape if anyone needs it. Cover shipping and it's yours. But, I'm begging you that if you're thinking you could use this shirt, to please just fire your doctor(s) and hire new ones. It could literally save your life! Anyway, hit me up if you want the shirt. Open offer to everyone who is losing patience with their doctor.

[spookybias]

first time again ‣ [ yang jeongin ] ✧

pairing: yang jeongin x gn! reader

genre: comfort, angst, slice of life

synopsis: an attempt to return a love letter leads to a cycle of all too familiar events.

content: exes to almost lovers again, exes to friends au

warning: reader threatens to kill jeongin twice, insecurities, self-blame

for: @districtninewriters' dear skz, with love event. please be sure to check out all the fics written for this event! everyone in the net worked hard on them :)

word count: 2.4k

note: i want a jeongin :,)

You studied the envelope you were holding, flipping it over a few times in your hands. The quality of the paper was nicer than normal, almost like whatever was inside was more important than just a regular letter. You weren’t expecting anything, let alone anything important or special.

But it was definitely your name on the front.

You took in the minimalistic decoration of the beige envelope, mentally noting the small piece of looseleaf paper that had been torn at an aesthetic angle and taped down. Your name had been written in rainbow calligraphy on top of the looseleaf, a font you immediately recognized because your ex had used it plenty of times when decorating the tags on gift bags and appreciation cards to you. Each letter of your name casually leaked into an ombre of cool shades, and hand drawn sparkles littered the envelope.

You dreaded opening the letter, and wished you could stop feeling as blue as the ink your ex had used to write your name.

You were tempted to toss it in the trash, and bury it under the used romance novels you no longer wanted, but as quick as the urge to scream and throw away everything related to your ex had came, it had left.

Adrenaline coursed through you. Your fingertips were fast at ripping open the packaging, while your brain was hesitant to remember the pretty bleach-haired boy who had stolen your heart and then unintentionally crushed it just awhile ago.

Your ex's words were written on skyline stationary. Red and blue stripes twirled along the edges of the paper and a stamp of a smiley face followed by squiggly lines appeared at the top right corner. You were too scared to skim over a single paragraph. So you stood there, staring at the greeting instead.

I know this is sudden, ____.

Four minutes passed. And then you began to read.

You declined your group of friends' invitation to walk to the local bakery and then home with them after school. You had been holding in an immense amount of anger for your ex since you had read his letter to you last night. The letter could've easily been thrown in the trash after reading, but you couldn't help but become entangled in the words he spewed out into sentences.

It's not fair, You thought to yourself as you stomped up the stairs to the platform of the train station. It's not fair that he gets to remind me of everything and I don't get to say anything back to him. It's not fair that I have to think about why our relationship was so pretty.

"Pretty" is the word everyone used to describe the relationship you had with your ex. The both of you had taken it as a compliment back then, but now you knew why everyone referred to the two of you with such an adjective.

Pretty meant your relationship was attractive, it was pleasing to the eye on the outside, it was held at a fair degree. But what was it like on the inside? It was tame and decent, but complicated. Your ex always questioned what he truly felt for you, and it always made you wonder if you were doing something that made him doubtful.

Things had ended because you didn't want to feel more and more insecure as the days went by. It was fruitless to keep trying. Well, at least, it was to you.

"I'll kill him," you grumbled to yourself. A couple people waiting for the L train gave you a weird look. You tried to ignore their glances and the feeling of wanting to reminisce on the train ride you and your ex always shared before and after school during your relationship.

The two of you lived in the same apartment complex, but nowadays you did your absolute best to avoid him. You could've approached him there, instead, but you were so on edge you felt the need to return the letter before you got home. You had stopped taking the train a long time ago, too, desperately trying to avoid him at the train station as well. Now here you were trying to find him.

"I'll kill you!" You practically shouted at your ex. You grabbed him by his shirt collar and yanked him forward. You had forgotten what it had been like to stand so close to him, but you tried to ignore the blush that was pushing its way onto your face and the urge to pull him into a hug.

"What did I do?!" Yang Jeongin looked around awkwardly at the handful of people staring at both of you.

He was unsure of his emotions. One part of him was embarrassed by getting caught up in your sneak attack and the other part of him was happy that you were at least talking to him, even if you had just threatened his life. Jeongin was able to pry your hands -he had noticed how much smaller they were compared to his- off of him. He grabbed your hand and walked you towards an empty section of the platform.

Your heart fluttered, and when you glanced up as he pulled you along, you were seeing your surroundings in a sakura filter.

Jeongin stopped once you were at a spot without anyone around. "I-" He began to say, but you cut him off.

"Get your hands off of me!" You flailed your arms around until he took a step back.

Jeongin held his hands up in surrender. "Before you kill me, please tell me what I did."

"What is this?" You wasted no time in pulling out the crumpled envelope from Jeongin. "You're sending me love notes? After we already ended things?"

Jeongin looked like a deer caught in headlights. "H-how did you get that?"

"Your stupid ass sent it to me!"

"I- I did but-"

"Why?"

"Because I wanted you to know how much you mean to me."

"Well I don't care and I don't want this! I don't want you anymore!" You crumpled the envelope and letter into a ball and threw it at Jeongin's chest. It bounced off, and rolled onto the floor.

"Okay," Jeongin replied, his voice cracking. "You don't have to accept it. It was wrong of me to send you something after we had already broken up." He reached down for the crumpled up paper.

Jeongin held it up, hurt written across his features. The letter seemed to mean a lot to him, and even though he had hurt you in the past, you never wanted to make him feel bad.

You tried to snatch the mess you had made away from him but he held it up.

He furrowed his eyebrows, looking annoyed. "What?"

"Give it back," You told him, trying to reach the crumpled letter.

"You just said you didn't want it." It was unlike Jeongin to raise his voice. "If you don't want it then I'll take it back."

"Why?"

"Because I care about what I wrote in it and I want it!"

"Stop!" You continued your attempt to take it from him.

You and Jeongin fought over the crumpled papers like two nine-year-olds fighting over a toy truck. You were able to get a good grip on his love note. You were holding on to his love and you refused to let it go this time. You lied when you said when you didn't want him, and you yanked the paper towards you. Only it didn't come to you as a whole.

It ripped in half.

"Look what you did," Jeongin said, not realizing the weight of his words.

Look what you did, ____, You scolded yourself. You messed it up again.

That was the last straw. You were tired and frustrated and still heartbroken. You crouched down, head in your hands and tears slipping down your cheeks. You were nothing left but sniffles and sobs and torn pages and haunted by the word, "pretty".

"It's not fair," You choked out. "Why did you do this to me?"

"____," Jeongin had calmed down and reached out to you. "I'm sorry."

"No you're not," You told him. "Why did you send that if you didn't want to be with me anymore? What was the point of reminding me?"

Jeongin took a deep breath, gathering up whatever courage he had left. "Who says I don't want to be with you anymore? That's why I wrote you the letter. I'm just... not sure if you still want to be with me."

You didn't cut him off, so Jeongin took that as a chance to continue.

"I still think about you all the time. I wasn't sure how I felt about you when we were dating because we were both inexperienced and we rushed into things. That's not your fault, so don't think it was. I was the one who immediately said yes when you asked me out. I realized now that I did like you then and I still love you now, but at the time, I didn't know at all how to differentiate romantic feelings from platonic ones. I shouldn't have immediately said yes, I should've waited at least a day to confirm with myself that I did like you. If I hadn't rushed the both of us into something, we wouldn't have broken up. There wouldn't have been doubts or insecurities or anything wrong with us." Jeongin continued to rub your back soothingly. He was relieved that you had stopped shaking. "I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry for making you feel like everything was your fault. And I'm sorry that you received a letter from me, because all it did was make things worse between us."

"Jeongin, I- I still love you too," You managed to get out.

It was in that moment that Jeongin realized he had said that he loves you. He gritted his teeth and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

"But I need more time," You told him.

"I understand that." He nodded his head and gave you a small smile. "But can I walk you home?"

You nodded, and took the hand he offered to help you up off the ground. It felt like the first time again.

Jeongin barged into his younger brother's room. "Were you looking through my stuff?"

"Yes," His brother responded, scribbling into his notebook and ignoring the urge to give his older brother eye contact. "I was helping mom clean in your room."

"Why did ____ receive a letter I wrote ages ago before we broke up?" Jeongin crossed his arms, demanding an answer.

Jeongin's little brother blinked twice before turning to him shocked. "You wrote that before you guys broke up? It looked recent so mom sent me to the mailbox to drop it off."

"Well thank you for mailing it," Jeongin tried to end the conversation, but his brother pressed on.

"Oh I know why it looked recent," His brother have him a sly smile. "You kept it in good condition since that was the only thing of ____ you had left before they dumped you." Jeongin's little brother chuckled, going back to his notes. Then a thought popped into his mind. "Wait. Why are you thanking me?"

"No reason. Just, thank you," Jeongin told him sincerely. "Now stop touching other people's mail."

"Hey, what?" The younger was confused. "I don't understand you-" But Jeongin was already out of the room and heading back to his.

Jeongin sat at his desk in front of his bedroom window, and looked at his half of the ripped love note. He smiled to himself. He had written the letter ages ago and wanted to mail it to you as a cute gesture, but you had broken up with him the day after he had written it, and demanded all of your stuff back.

Jeongin held up his half, analyzing the piece of paper. He had the ending of the letter.

The boy caught sight of you at your bedroom window, staring from across the complex. You held up your half and smiled at him.

You had the start of the letter.

( THE LETTER )

I know this is sudden, ____.

But I wanted to send this to you because you mean a lot to me, more than I initially thought. I just want to talk to you all the time, and thinking about you puts the biggest smile on my face. I want to send you letters like this every week. No, everyday. And I want to fill your mailbox up with love notes and other things I hope you'll find adorable and wholesome so that when you go outside to open it, it explodes in an endless supply of my affection and my words kind of just fall around you. And you can think, "Wow, Jeongin really likes me. He likes me." Because I do like you.

Okay. That was pretty cheesy of me. It's only the truth, though. I have real romantic feelings for you, and I've been thinking about how much I like you for awhile now.

I remember when you stomped up the steps to the platform of the L train just a few months ago. You looked pissed and about ready to kill me. I won't lie to you, I was fearing for my life and I thought, "This is it. This is how I go. At the hands of a beautiful human." But you didn't kill me. You grabbed me by my shirt collar and you gave me a quick kiss and said, "I like your stupid ass." Not the most romantic confession, but it's the only confession I've ever gotten. It's the only confession I want and need.

And I remember you tripping and falling right after. I wanted to carry your bookbag for you, but you wouldn't let me. We kept asking each other why. "Why can't I carry it?" I asked, "Why do you want to carry it?" You asked. "Because I want to," I would say and then you would yell at me and tell me to give your bookbag back. We looked like ten-year-olds.

The train had pulled in and you tried to grab my hand and lead me inside, but you tripped over my foot and fell down instead. You fell so hard you started crying and I panicked inside. But when I rubbed your back and asked if you were okay, you said you were upset that you made me miss the train. I offered you my hand and you took, and now, I want to hold your hand forever.

So yeah, I like you a lot. I'm sorry it took so long for me to say it. I can't wait to see where we go from here.

With love, Jeongin.

all rights reserved | copyrights © spookybias. do not repost, translate, moderate, or copy any of my works.

[alligatorjesie]

John Boyega did not make a mildly sexual joke to a friend. He said an outright sexual harassing comment about a MARRIED NOT TO HIM WOMAN who he says is his friend, a coworker on a movie Geared Towards Children, to one up some shit ass on fucking twitter of all fucking places.

An Alt-right sock puppet account at that:

Link to that full article here for anyone who is interested. It's a... well I won't call it a fun read because it's not but relevant to the bullshit people like you enjoy spewing.

Take his comment about laying pipe, which means To Have Sex With Someone, to the MARRIED WOMAN WHO HE SAYS IS HIS FRIEND and apply it to any woman in your place of work.

Does that feel weird to you?

Apply this 'laying pipe' comment to Jennifer who works the cash register, who is married with 2 kids and only smiles at you because she'll get fired if she doesn't. I think there's a phrase for what you're doing and why it's wrong, it's called Sexual Harassment.

I do not believe Daisy gave the OK for John to make a sexual comments about his characters fucking her character in a movie made for kids. This poor bitch was probably just at home with HER HUSBAND WHO IS NOT JOHN just minding her own shit.

I highly fucking doubt Daisy enjoyed dealing with that backlash fortunately for us she wasn't on the internet at that time I believe because those same Alt-Right shit-for-brains chassed her off the internet because she had the audacity to say guns should be controlled.

Oh what does this mean the reylos were not the reason Daisy left Insta? Oh fuck no. The very keystone of your personality has just crumbled, what will you do now? I guess you should try to not be an fucking asshole for a little while see how that goes for you?

No one in the reylo fandom is trying to erase Finn. We actually like Finn a lot as a character or else he wouldn't show up in so many reylo fanfictions.

For example; this is just a random sampling of all the fanfctions I have open in tabs right now and as you can see out of the 17 I have open, Finn is in over half of them.

Finn is in at least 10 out of 17 of these, and again these are at random. I don't pick fics with any intention, I just see some stupid smutty plot I might enjoy and go into it blind.

People who hate a character don't go through this amount of effort to have him in their fan fics.

You don't strike me as a creative but I can assure you writing is great effort and you wouldn't bank the effort unless you cared.

We love Finn. He's a great character with a lot of wasted potential but The Last Jedi is not where that potential was wasted.

We also understand that actors are not the people they play in movies so when The Actors do bad things like Sexually Harass their coworkers on twitter for fake internet points we can subjectively look at THE ACTOR and not mindlessly lick the fucking ground the person walks on.

John did a bad thing. Understanding he's human and has the capability of not being perfect is healthy. If it came out that Adam Driver did some shit like that I'll get on his ass about it too but we won't ever see that because Adam Driver does the smart thing and doesn't have social media.

Listen, you are the reason you can't avoid reylos.

I'm not kicking down your fucking door and demanding you throw reylo into your search engine every now and then to see what the fuck we're up to.

Not a single soul asked you to sit down and read Reylo Metas About The Ship Reylo on YOUR OWN FUCKING TIME.

The fact you hate reylo so much but know these metas existed says more about you than us.

Sexual imagery is not new in Star Wars For example the clitoris balcony in the ep2:

Those are clitoral hoods. They didn't even hide it.

Which is a good thing because Rian put a few of those into EP8 too.

Say what you will about our dumb metas but these are vaginal openings and They Are Not Subtle.

This animal just has her tits out and Luke milks them right there.

Like there is no question that milk comes from tits and these are tits. They showed Functioning Tits in a Star Wars movie.

Or Rian Johnson straight up saying the hand touching scene was the closest to a sex scene we'll ever get in a Star Wars movie:

We're just dumb fans enjoying our fandom, what the fuck is your excuse?

You are in control of what you see on this website and most others, if you dislike reylo so fucking much block the tag mate.

Go on about your own shit.

No one in this fandom wants to see you here that's for fucking sure. Let the door hit you on the ass on the way out won't you?

the fact that reylos still think people hate them over “ship discourse” when it’s actually because they were evil and racist as shit to john boyega and (as a lesser crime) were just annoying and hard to avoid between like. 2017 and 2019. like girl idc that you have trash tastes i care that you erased finn to make kylo ren a white version of him and then called john boyega a racial slur when he had the audacity to make a mildly sexual joke (meanwhile y’all were zooming in on daisy ridley’s completely flat stomach after she openly admitted to sw fans destroying her self esteem and speculating on some weird force baby. also throne room sex meta sorry for reminding you all of that.)

[derireo]

Perfect timing for angst because I'm not feeling great myself currently ;; Itaru with the lines of "Don't you see that this was a mistake?" "Don't say anything, please." Maybe Itaru did something that hurt the reader?

got it! tell me why i went off on this one :/

It kind of sucked that you were sitting alone at your dinner table right now. It kind of sucked that, after having gone on so many dates with this guy, he only saw it as a short little game.

Maybe you were just dumb for not realising it, but Itaru— that charming guy.. Fuck. He knew how to play his cards right.

How many times have you fallen for this scheme? How many people have tricked your foolish self into thinking that, hey, maybe you do have a chance at dating again.

And then— and then he pulls this shit off that makes you revisit the past that created the insecurities you have now, and you can't help but conclude that maybe you just weren't interesting enough for him.

You just can't believe Chigasaki has the gall to bring another woman to the same restaurant you both were talking about not too long ago.

He didn't even notice you at first despite sitting at a table near the reservation desk, and you were kind of glad because you felt like you were going to vomit.

The woman beside him held onto his arm as he asked about their reservations, looking up at his stoic visage with hearts in her eyes. Her finger was absently drawing circles into his bicep as he held conversation with the receptionist.

You figured this might be the best time to wave a waiter down and ask if you could cancel your appointment here.

"I may have to charge you for cancelling even though you haven't ordered yet. Is that alright?" They said with concern lacing their words while at the same time giving you a look of sympathy.

"It's totally fine. I just want to leave." You smiled reassuringly and smoothed down the wrinkles in your clothes. The dread in your heart continued to grow as time passed by, the waiter leaving to go and figure out for you how much you'd have to pay.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I believe you've booked two reservations here. You had an appointment set for seven, and this current reservation overlaps it by an hour." The receptionist said just as your waiter came back with your bill.

You thanked them with another kind smile of yours and looked down at the numbers. The bill wasn't too expensive, but still a hefty price to pay for cancelling. You shrugged it off as best you could and began to count the cash in your wallet, trying to ignore the buzzing fear of being seen by him.

"Your tip." You said to the waiter in a gentle whisper, finger pointing at the 50% you left on the money tray as you stood up from your seat. "Make sure you take it all."

"Oh. Thank you." They exhaled, bowing to you in gratitude. You tucked your chair in neatly as the confused rumble of Itaru's voice made it to your ears and you began to scramble to gather your things. Your heart stopped when he asked if he could check if the people for his other reservation was still here, and you begged in your head for the receptionist to say no.

"Please go ahead." They offered in kind, and you just had to punch yourself in the thigh.

You quickly began to stride towards the other side of the desk to avoid passing by Itaru who was walking in, but he immediately spotted you and cursed under his breath.

"Wait! Wait." He called for you, rushing to reach for your wrist before you could get away; lucky enough you two were out of the periphery of his date tonight.

"Let go." You hissed, tugging at your arm to pull away but to no avail. Itaru's grip on you was firm and gave you no chance to escape, so you took in a deep breath and lifted your head to glare look at him.

"This was a mistake, I swear." He said in a hushed tone. His stoic expression had changed into something more panicked and frazzled, but you couldn't bring yourself to care about the 180. "She invited me and I couldn't say no—"

You snatched your arm away from him with a stormy look in your eyes. Couldn't say no?

"Look. I like you—"

"Don't say anything." You cut him off sharply and held your bag to your body to protect yourself from whatever bullshit he was spewing at you. You took a glance to your side to see your waiter awkwardly hanging around to see if they'd need to diffuse the situation, but you shook your head, smile slowly appearing on your face.

"I appreciate your kind words," you started, your voice morphing into your workplace tone, "but from now on, I'd like it if you refrained from interacting with me."

Your face held a look of disgust towards Itaru who was grimacing, but you ignored it and opted to look at your waiter who was now.. looking proud. Of you. (lol).

"Did you take the tip?" You softly asked them, and when they flashed the bills you left on the tray, you felt your heart ease up a little. At least someone was going to have a good night.

You quickly returned your attention to Itaru who was running his hands through his hair and sighed, holding yourself back from curling your hands into fists.

"Delete my number from your phone. Only contact my work number if we need to collaborate. Bye." You waved your hand dismissively and left in a flash before the man could say anything else, your body filling up with the warmth of satisfaction.

You didn't really know if that night affecting Itaru in any way, but your interactions with him at work definitely lessened to a near zero; only making eye contact and having one worded conversations if you two had to work together on a project.

Ignoring him and pretending he didn't exist most of the time helped you get over the attraction you held for him, but each time he tried to start a conversation with you, you'd turn around and speak to another colleague.

And eventually, you two were only left with a work relationship. It was just like when you first started in the office and you felt like you wouldn't have it any other way.

You didn't notice it, but, Itaru felt the exact opposite. Everyone else but you saw how he'd give you those lingering glances every chance he got and how he'd hesitate to approach you whenever you were near.

Suddenly there were rumours going around that you had broken the heartbreaker.

[lukasthemedic]

Property Brothers Fic

Original posting date - 2016 A03 works

Renovation Hell

Chapter 1

Jonathan gently rubs his fingers against his temples, leaning down on the counter above his barely touched chicken and fruit salad. His hands and arms are covered in particles from this current reno, his legs ache to the point he can barely stand it. Actually, all of him aches. He's been working so hard, so many late nights into early mornings. The unbelievable requests of these homeowners, more additions the further into the already crunched timeline they gave him. Barking orders, stalling the installation of most of the lower level of the house still. He is generally pretty calm, easy going. But he can barely continue to take the filming with this couple.

Jonathan's phone rings, a vivid reminder that he isn't off work, even when he is. "Hey, this is Jonathan." He says as professionally as he can manage into the speaker, keeping one hand leaning against his now throbbing head. He already knows who it is before he even gets an answer back on the staticky other end. "Yeah, I know it looks like it's not coming together as quickly as you had wanted it, but I can assure you--" He's cut off by more hasty, obnoxious comments being spewed from the other line of the husband and wife duo.

The door creaks open quickly and Drew is careful to shut it quietly, with ease. He knows how difficult this renovation has been on Jonathan, how much work he has had to put into it. How much work it has been on all of them, the whole crew.

"I understand, and I know that you'll be the ones living in the house, seeing it for the rest of your lives. But I can assure you, I am going to make the deadline and ensure all of your requests have been met. How about I bring over some new options for the kitchen backsplash and countertops tomorrow morning and you can meet me there and take a look." He blankly explains, as calmly as possible. He gently taps his fingers against his fork, regretting the portion of his salad he already consumed. The insults and stabbing remarks about his work make his stomach turn. He's hates this aspect of trying to be a helpful person to everyone. He should have known, this evening like all the rest, wouldn't come without an interrupting, hellish phone call.

Drew takes a sharp, shaky breathe and makes his way towards his twin, careful to keep himself quiet when he grabs wine glasses and pours them both extremely large servings, sitting down across from Jonathan at the kitchen bar.

Jonathan's face turns a deep scarlet, rolling his eyes as he continues to keep himself from snapping under more demands of the clients on the other end. His palms are sweaty, and Drew can tell he is getting more and more frustrated by the way that his brothers hand tenses up under his when he tries to slide it over his while he taps it against his fork, silently pleading with him to keep his cool.

"Yes, I completely understand. I'll be there as early as you need me to get my work out of the way. I'm sorry there have been so many inconvenient steps for you. I appreciate the opportunity to be able to work with you on your dream home."

"Yeah, dream home is an extremely shit description for having to work with your incompetent crew. I can't believe we have to deal with all of this bullshit. You better be there in the morning when I get there!" Drew hears the guy on the other end of the line yelling at his brother, putting no ease into the way he slams into Jonathan's. Drew is thankful when the guy decides to hang up on him, abruptly ending the phone call, allowing Jonathan to put his phone down and rest his hands against his temples again.

"Hey, don't listen to that." Drew quietly offers to his brother, pushing the drink closer to him. "You know you're the best. They always just get a little frustrated when they can't see the bigger picture until it's finished."

"Yeah, a little." Jonathan scoffs, pushing the wine glass away from him. "I'm not in the mood."

Jonathan finally looks up, Drew melts in his deep green eyes glaring across the room. Drew can tell he is hurt, knowing he is looking at everything around them, avoiding the contact of his own eyes.

Jonathan downs the glass of wine he slid across from himself earlier and stands up, cleaning off his plate and putting it away.

Drew carefully watches him, finally seeing his brother relax a little, and hopes that the rest of the evening can be less tense. Jonathan grabs a bottle of whiskey from their bar and downs a good amount, nearly finishing off what they have left of it. "Do you remember what you said in that interview yesterday." Jonathan asks his brother, not allowing it as a question, rather as a cold statement. He puts the whiskey back, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and facing back to stand with his brother, now face to face with him.

"What do you mean?" Drew sighs, trying to plead with his twin to turn his mood around, not wanting to focus on anything else that could come between them at this point.

Jonathan scoffs, " you don't remember when you gave a tour of the house and told the reporter about how we sleep in separate rooms. How we're not even allowed to come in one another's." Jonathan says coldly, looking back at Drew with daggers in his warm eyes. Drew can see the hurt and confusion on his brothers face, realising just how much he's already had to deal with today, and then bring this back up.

"Jonathan, you know I didn't mean that. She was suspicious. I had to redirect her, you know how much all of this means, for our personal life to stay private and separate from our shows." Drew takes a step closer to his brother, trying to grab for his hips and slide him closer in. "I can only imagine what will be said at the Google interview this weekend for our book." He whispers into Jonathan's ear. "Fanfiction, if we're lucky." He gently kisses his jawline and laughs into his neck.

The master bed room wasn't shown in the tour of their house. In fact, the two rooms that were staged as their own are two of the guests rooms. They have a lot of traffic during shows that are shot in the area, generally having enough rooms in the house and space for the crew to stay, either with them or their parents.

"I'm sorry I'm snapping at you. This renovation is just really difficult. I'm so tired of everyone else feeling like they're the contractors here and not me. Telling me how to do my job, all the extra steps." Jonathan sighs, letting Drew pull him closer. "I missed you today. I didn't see you." He mumbles, hoping Drew will want to stay up for awhile and relax with him even though they have a long day of shooting tomorrow. Two shows, and an interview in the evening. Plus they have an early flight at the end of the week for their Google interviews, which means nights spent in uncomfortable hotel rooms and very little sleep, if any. They always get things booked so tight together when they have to leave the state, so they can accomplish so much in such a little time.

Drew leans in, pulling him as close as their bodies will allow, sculpting to one another. He runs his hands down the sides of his brothers body and bites on his lip, leaving Jonathan shivering with the release of finally having his twin there with him.

Jonathan pulls Drew closer, almost falling into him, completely exhausted and enveloped into his brothers arms, "let's go take a shower and find something to watch." Drew pulls Jonathan's chin up to plant another quick kiss on his lips, pulling his brother along with him up the stairs to the bathroom.

Every stair is another painful reminder to Jonathan that he has so much to finish tomorrow and each step he takes towards the bathroom puts another step in his head about the project. "That guy is such an asshole." He mutters, following suit of his brother towards the bathroom at the end of the hall.

"I know, but don't let it bother you. Soon this reno will be over and we will be on to bigger and better things. Surely with nicer people." He calmly says, hopeful that he is right, because he knows that Jonathan can't take much more. He always has the bulk of the work, and the weight of the projects on him. No wonder he is always at his end.

Jonathan sits on the edge of the bed, plopping his head back and resting his arms under his neck. He could fall asleep so easily right now if he wanted to. But he really needs to stay up and work on some designs for the house, some of the "finishing touches" that the couple has emailed him, adding to the list. "Are you good?" Drew questions, placing an uneasy hand on his brothers thigh, leaning down, towering over his face.

"Yeah." Jonathan sighs. "I just have so much to catch up on now. I'll have to stay up all night toying with these new designs and have to be there really early in the morning. I'm just worn out. I do this for a living. I shouldn't feel this way." He mumbles, arching his back and tossing his hands over his eyes, shielding them from his brothers wondering looks.

Jonathan is a little bit tipsy from the drinks he had earlier, but not enough to feel any better about the situation.

He feels his brothers warm hands travel closer into his thighs, hearing the bed creak as he uses it to get on his knees and feels him rest his head between his legs, face planted in the comforter. "This reno sucks." Drew mumbles, muffled by the bed. He takes a deep breath and brings his head back up to rest on his twins warm legs

Chapter 2

"I know just what you need." Drew says with a sly smirk on his face, peering up at his twin from between his thighs, eyes traveling up his chest. Drew pulls himself up to hover over his brother and adjusts his legs on either side of his twin's hips, gazing down at him. "How bad do you want me?" He mercilessly grins, grabbing a fistful of Jonathan's drywall covered flannel, drawing his lips closer to his face.

Jonathan can't help but melt under the dark stare that Drew is giving him, peering down, grasping his shirt so tightly that his knuckles are beginning to turn white. Just when Jonathan thought that this day was a definite drag down. He knows his brother is always going to be there for him, in more ways than he ever imagined. "Bad, please." Jonathan whines from under his grasp, from the weight of his body grinding down on him. He can't help it when Drew plays him like this, because his brother knows that when he can't have what he wants, he desires it more. Drew loves making his brother beg for him, and Jonathan grows evermore excitedly every time he has to wait for what is coming. "Please, Drew. I want you so ba-" Jonathan is cut off from his twin's mouth, grabbing down and biting hard on his lip, moaning into his brother's mouth. He runs his mouth, slowly along his lips, giving deep tender kisses, careful to keep watching. He loves when Jonathan squirms under him from his touch, head arching back against the bed, eyes closed with anticipation building. "God, yes. Mhmm." Jonathan groans, his brother tracing his lips down his cheek, his jawline. He runs his hands down his sides, pulling his shirt up to expose his bare skin. Jonathan's muscles ache even more from the cool air hitting his exhausted body and he grinds his teeth together, letting out a slow roll of breath between his locked jaws. "Give it to me, Drew." He begs as his brother continues to run his hands and mouth over his chest, looking up to meet his brother's glare only for a second before he continues to trail his mouth down his stomach to his jeans.

"You have to be patient, haven't you learned anything?" Drew chuckles, reaching to unbutton his jeans and slide them carefully down to his ankles, so Jonathan can successfully kick them off onto the floor where his wrinkled and dirty shirt is already piled and waiting. Jonathan knows that Drew will wash him carefully and slowly in the shower, cuddle with him in bed and watch Chopped, or something ridiculous that he loves watching and Drew can't stand, just to make him happy. He knows that even after he's asleep and warm and content, that Drew will grab all of his dirty clothes and wash them before coming to bed. He knows that he will go back and clean up the mess in the kitchen that Jonathan makes when he's so exhausted from coming home and working that all he can think about is something quick enough and a drink to dull the previous hours pain so that he can crawl into bed and manage to get an hour or two of sleep before he hauls back to the renovation site. Jonathan knows that his brother will do this for him, because he loves him.

So, Jonathan is patient, with his brother's touch and his games. Because he knows how Drew enjoys their evenings together. It is rare when they have time together during renovations, shows, flights, etc. He knows that being at home with his twin's touch and his full attention is something he should be patient with. He knows that this game of head now will follow with a blissful shower. That Drew will come back upstairs after cleaning and making some late business calls to producers and emails to interviews and hopeful homebuyers for the show, to cuddle into his brother's warmth while he sleeps and carefully weave himself into his body, trying to wake him and get his attention. That he will want to make him wake up, aroused, and begging to have sex from the touch of Drew. That he will fall back asleep in the arms of his finally equally exhausted brother and they will sleep until the morning draws them up for a quick shower before being dragged back into the hell of this renovation. Jonathan remembers how much he dreads going to the site in the morning and his face becomes less relaxed and content with his brother's touch and he feels Drew stop moving over him.

"I know that look." Drew sighs, pulling himself back up to look into Jonathan's eyes. Drew's eyebrows furrow and he leans down closer to his brother so their mouths are almost touching, Jonathan works at cramming the thoughts back because he hates to think of anything else besides Drew when he is this intimate with him. "Just relax." Drew mumbles, placing one quick sloppy kiss on his twin's lips and travels back down to his briefs. Drew pulls at the tight band with his teeth, grabbing Jonathan's hard cock over the fabric separating them from touching. Drew moans, a deep and intense feeling of pleasure washes over him as he feels his brother throb under his grip. "Please, touch me. I want more." Jonathan begs, grabbing for his underwear. He feels his hand restrained to his side, Drew grinning down at him. "You don't get to decide when it's time. Don't threaten me to make you wait longer." He chuckles, releasing his brothers hand, and going back to his work. He kisses Jonathan over the fabric and shivers, hearing the moans work out from his brother's mouth. Deep growls starting at the back of his throat and escaping every time Drew breathes more hot air onto Jonathan's hard cock. He can barely contain himself any longer, and Drew must know that he is getting more and more restless, because he swiftly pulls his briefs off and tosses them down into the pile with the rest of the clothes.

"I've been waiting all day for you." Drew smirks, slowly drawing his eyes up to meet his brother's desperate stare. He gently kisses his twin on either side of his warm thighs, gently grabbing his balls with one cupped hand, and holding the other under his thigh, careful to be too rough. He knows that Jonathan likes it when he's rough, but after today he just wants to give him something to relax to. Drew finally slides his brother's twitching hot cock in his mouth, already feeling the precum on his tongue as he lets it dance against his brother's skin. He gently slides his fingers against Jonathan's thigh and back to his ass, feeling him arch against his touch, watching his body beg for more. He carefully inserts a finger into him, running his mouth hot down the full length of his cock over and over, making sure Jonathan is getting what he wants. He works his finger against his brother's grinding, begging and ready for more. "God, fuck, please. Yes, Drew, yes." Jonathan is barely able to get the words out of his mouth at the expense of the work his brother's mouth is doing on him. Jonathan places his hands in either side of Drew's head and pushes him downwards onto himself more. Drew loves it when Jonathan has to force him to be more rough. He knows that his brother can barely contain himself without his touch. Drew adds a second finger, slipping his mouth off of his cock and biting down on his thigh. Drew can feel his own skin brushing up tight against his slacks, his cock throbbing so hard he can barely keep the pulsing in his head drowned out, making his eyes weak and his body hungry for more.

Drew carefully laughs, nervously, looking up at his brother. He keeps his hands moving so that his fingers are in sync with Jonathan's grinding body. "I can't wait. I was going to wait, but I can't do it." Drew exclaims, pulling his fingers out from his prepared twin. He is met with the same running thoughts from his brother, when Jonathan quickly leans up, unbuttoning the dress shirt his brother is in, throwing tie, shirt and undershirt all on the floor as hastily as he can. "If you're too tired, we can wait. I don't have to." Drew suggests, facing his brother.

"Shut up." Jonathan rolls his eyes, pulling Drew closer in for a kiss. "I'm never too tired for my time with you." He mumbles into his mouth, grabbing for his slacks and popping the button undone and quickly sliding them off. Drew topples over his brother again, grinding his briefs against Jonathan's hot bare skin, his cock begging to release from all the pressure and teasing. Drew can't say he already doesn't feel the same tension in his own body.

Drew quickly pulls off his own briefs, leaning down for one more quick kiss on Jonathan's neck, hot air makes Jonathan shiver again against his brothers touch. "I love you so much. You know that right." Jonathan's face becomes a deep red, shying away from his brothers fleeting glance as he waits for his comment. Drew pulls Jonathan's face up to look at his by the chin, cupping his jaw. "It's okay." Drew smiles, placing another kiss on his lips. Drew knows how Jonathan feels about talking about love with his brother. He knows that he loves him just as much, but he's always so hesitant to say it when they're having sex. He always assumed that it's connected to the act and not his real emotions, so most of the time Drew just assumed he knows he's being honest and takes the fact alone that he knows Jonathan loves him even if he doesn't say it back often during these times. Jonathan is much more reserved about showing his emotions, especially after how rough it was for Jonathan in his childhood. He's never came right out and said it, but Drew knows. Regardless, Drew can feel his brothers love radiate from him, and that's enough.

"Spit." Drew demands, holding his hand out for Jonathan to take, and he does as he's told. Drew grabs his hard, throbbing cock, running his hand with Jonathan's saliva down it and gently thrusts into Jonathan. "Goddamnit, you feel so fucking good." Jonathan groans, pumping his body to meet the rhythm of his twin, begging for more. Drew continues to thrust harder and harder as Jonathan moans with pleasure while he grinds his body back against Drew's. Drew slides his free hand that isn't helping to balance between his brothers legs and smoothly runs his hand against Jonathan's hard needy cock. He can feel the anticipation building, knowing that Jonathan has had so much foreplay that he can barely contain himself. Drew's thrusting with his hand sliding against Jonathan won't let the him last much longer under the pressure. Drew doesn't think he can last much longer himself at how tight and perfect Jonathan feels under him.

"God Drew, harder, please. Make me come, I'm so close." Jonathan pants, his brother sliding his hand against his shaft quicker and quicker, pounding harder into him. His own eyes are becoming steadily more heavier with the weight of his own orgasm quick approaching. "Fuck Drew, I'm gonna come, I'm coming." Jonathan grabs the comforter around him, gripping fists of whatever he can reach. He throws his head back, spilling warm all down his brothers quick moving hand, down onto his stomach. Drew can barely continue to thrust after watching the pleasure he entertained on his brother, working in harder and harder each time he slams into Jonathan. "Fuck, fuck, Jonathan." He moans, slamming into him a final time, thighs shaking hard from the instant release he feels, soaking up the bliss from the orgasm. Drew slowly pulls out from his brother and lazily hovers over him, licking what Jonathan left for him on his stomach snd twitching cock. "You're always so good." Drew exclaims, sheepishly biting down on his lip, giving his brother a look of lust and hunger. Jonathan pulls his brother down for a sloppy, exhausted kiss before Drew slides off the side of the bed and drags Jonathan behind him towards the shower.

Jonathan is so exhausted, he could fall asleep right now, but Drew turns the steaming water on and Jonathan is instantly enveloped with the warm droplets of water hitting him as his brother adjusts the shower temperature just right. "Come on, I'll wash you." Drew motions for his twin to step into the shower, under the hot stream of water and Jonathan is instantly in heaven. He keeps his eyes closed and focuses on staying awake as Drew hums, massaging shampoo and working it into his hair. He is concerned when Drew stops, but is again relieved when he runs the sponge all over his body with soap, careful to relax every sore muscle that had to deal with the crazy couple on the renovation today.

After Drew finishes washing Jonathan off, he washes himself and dries them both off, padding warm and clean feet towards the bedroom again so he can find them something comfortable to get into. Though they haven't ever discussed it, neither one of them is particular to sleeping without clothes on, even together. Drew slides on some warm flannel sleeping pants and a shirt and hands Jonathan some shorts and a t-shirt as well to throw on while Drew searches the channels to find the chopped marathon Jonathan is so obsessed with every night they get together. Drew is the cold blooded one, it seems, and Jonathan is always so hot when he sleeps, so he can barely keep shorts on, let alone flannel pants to keep him warmer. Drew secretly thinks that Jonathan assumes he will pick up more recipes to make for him, since Drew is the cook of the two, and thinks about teasing him about it, but doesn't. He sees how's relaxed and calm Jonathan finally is, heading towards the bed to greet Drew who has successful found the right channel and pulled back the comforter enough for Jonathan to cuddle up close to him.

Jonathan snuggles up next to his brother, Drew throwing an arm over him. He knows he should be working on the stuff he needs to take to the site tomorrow, but he just wants to relax and enjoy his brother's presence while he falls asleep. He knows that Drew will get up after he falls asleep and work on some stuff for him while he's checking emails and whatnot. Drew is always there to catch the remainder of what Jonathan doesn't get done in a day, and he is so thankful that his brother is there for him when he can't be there for himself. Jonathan tries to stay awake while they're starting the dessert round on this episode, because he doesn't think he has seen it before, but Drew's hand rubbing circles in his hair softly is becoming too much to keep his heavy eyes open. "I do love you, Drew. More than you could ever imagine." Jonathan mumbles into his brother's side, quickly drifting off between powdered sugar, raw shrimp, and the quiet chuckle of his brother as he realizes that he was finally answering him back from earlier. And no; Drew thinks, as he begins to open his laptop to work on emailing, you don't love me more than I could ever imagine, because my love for you is unmeasurable.

[franeridan]

So I'm not the only one who noticed Kirishima and Bakugo have stopped interacting? I just saw in on your tags and it suddenly feels very real. I'm glad Bakugo is getting to interact with other characters (especially Kaminari), but isn't it weird that they literally haven't talked to each other in ages? I'm a fan of their friendship in canon so I noticed how odd it is. What do you think could be the reason? If you don't mind me asking. I'm really curious now that I know it wasn't just in my head.

Starting this off by pointing out that there’s absolutely 1000% the chance that actually nothing is going on at all - consider that Uraraka is supposed to be Deku’s love interest and they interact super rarely (though it is true that Uraraka is just generally around less than Kirishima and Bakugou are, even in the background), or that Todoroki and Deku and IIda are best friends but you see them all together rarely. That was the rational part of me trying to be less obsessive over this than I actually am. All things considered both interactions I mentioned have had more scenes than Kiri and Baku’s grand total of three, only one of which including exchanged words, since the end of the License Exam. Anyway they did interact with each other, which means they aren’t avoiding each other or anything, so what I’m saying is that it’s perfectly credible that nothing is going on at all and whatever I might say from this point on is just me maybe and most probably reading too much into stuff and also just being very sad my two favorite characters haven’t spoken to each other at all aside from once in about 80 chapters. Christ.

The reasons why I think something might be going on are two: 

first, before the license exam Bakugou and Kirishima interacted a lot. I’m talking about their interactions going down at least by 80%, I thought I was making it up but I reread the first 12 volumes and no, I’m really not. It is true that during these last 80+ chapters they’ve rarely been in the same place/being together the protagonists of the arcs, but stuff like Kirishima commenting on Bakugou’s behaviour or them just being close to one another or Kirishima being the character always used to explain what’s up with Bakugou to the audience, they’ve all disappeared too, which is weird when you compare it to how it used to be for the first 110 chapters (examples are Kirishima not commenting on the Baku vs Deku fight after the exam, nor making fun of him for having been suspended when other characters have and he was right there in the same room when it happened. Or Kirishima not mentioning anything about Baku being in the band/knowing how to play. Or latest chapter not commenting on what he said to Shinsou - this one especially, if you compare it to what happened with Shindou before the exam it’s just wierd, going from “dude, rude!”+”I’m sorry about him” to “whatever he’s saying I disassociate” is harsh.)

second, Bakugou was worried about Kirishima’s well being during the Raid Arc enough to stay up and be around waiting for him, he obviously heard him say he has a long way to go still and made the exact same face he made back when he was unhappy about Kirishima being unhappy the day they moved in the dorms, he was shown later unable to sleep even if we know usually when he says he’s going to sleep he does, the next day Todoroki mentioned something was still bothering him, and we to this day still don’t know what was up with that. Weird.

Now this is what I think might be happening on Bakugou’s side: he could be feeling at least in part guilty for what happened to Kirishima during the Raid, and might also be feeling like he needs to get his own license so that he can stand on par with him before he tries to do anything about it 

Why guilty!! you might say - because Bakugou was the one to tell Kirishima that as long as he refused to go down he was strong. And that mentality nearly had him killed. He told Kirishima all he needed was to be unwavering, and Kirishima built his ultimate move around it, and with it his confidence in the fact that he was strong, and as I mentioned a while back because of this Kirishima spent a while feeling strong, confident and bright and at the top, enough to challenge Mirio heads on, pester Amajiki into helping him get an internship, follow villains around and throw himself in front of Aizawa to protect him during the raid, Kirishima felt like he was strong enough for that because he had Unbreakable, and Unbreakable made him strong because Bakugou had said so. And then he comes back after having fought to the point of turning into a living bandage, having refused to go down like Bakugou had said, and all he has to say is “I still have a long way to go”. Compared to how on top of things he felt before, that’s… like, okay, I might be reaching a whole damn lot here, I probably am, but if I were Bakugou I’d kind of like to kick myself for it

And to add to that Bakugou isn’t even in the same stage as Kirishima anymore. Kirishima is how many steps ahead of him, now? From Bakugou’s point of view I mean - between the license and the internship he’s got so much on Bakugou, he might be feeling like before he can have any right to confront Kirishima about all of this he needs to first catch up to him

Kirishima on the other hand… I think the fact that he thought about Bakugou both before successfully using Unbreakable against a villain the first time we’re shown the move and right after breaking against Rappa does have a meaning - he thought about Bakugou saying “if you refuse to go down” and he did, but then he didn’t and he thought about it again, and together thought “I’m still like [in middle school]”. He might be feeling like he let him down/disappointed him. Bakugou said “didn’t you say you’d be unwavering?” like he fully believed Kirishima’s ability to be, but then Kirishima wasn’t, and you know in Kirishima’s mind his failure to be wasn’t detached from that conversation, he failed and he thought back on it, so it’s a possibility he might be feeling like he isn’t as good as Bakugou assumed he is/isn’t worth whatever opinion Bakugou has (had?) of him

We know that he’s been working hard to improve himself and taking it seriously enough that he questioned whether having the cultural festival was a good idea at all, so, again, maybe, he’s trying to become as good as Bakugou assumes he is because right now he doesn’t feel like such

THAT SAID

this doesn’t explain why their being kept apart started before the raid, nor why they’d still do stuff like sit together or spend the cultural festival together if they were feeling, I dunno, awkward with each other or whatever - the thing is, as I mentioned yesterday, I just don’t understand why cut on casual interactions like this but not cut it completely, it feels like Horikoshi is telling me “no no, they’re good, here see? they’re sitting on the same couch/ spent the day with each other, they’re still friends I just don’t feel like showing it on page” why would he do that

A lot of people think it’s because Hori is focusing on other Baku and Kiri relationships, but that doesn’t make much sense to me - you can do it without cutting so much on Kiri and Baku being best friends, you know?

Anyway, if I’m right and they’re having that sort of problem about the Raid, there’s totally the possibility that they’ll solve the problem off screen. As in, Bakugou gets his license and feels like he’s on Kiri’s same level again, Kiri gets some new cool move and feels like he’s strong again, they never talk about it and they’re good. Totally possible, I’d believe it if someone told me it was gonna happen. Well, whatever, we’ll have to wait and see

Ah, since I’m already here spewing unfounded theories all over the place, one that’s HIGHLY IMPROBABLE but that’s still my favorite on this topic is the possibility that Bakugou told Kirishima right after he failed his exam to keep his mother henning at bay at least till he got his license. Like, “I rely too much on you filling in for my shortcomings because you’re there and I expect you to be all smile at the camera and apologize for me if needed, but that obviously isn’t always gonna fucking work as my failing this bs exam proves, so until I can get the license for myself just. Don’t do that.” or something on that line. So now Kiri isn’t always there being Bakugou’s carer as he used to be, because he was asked to not do it since the fact that Bakugou relied on him to be like that while he kept on being an ass is the reason why he failed

Farfetched? Definitely! Probable? Not at all! Entertaining for me? Hell yeah.

[olokosomolo]

Let's say that we all are on the titanic, an ocean liner, destination, NYC. Lol, don't worry, I already notified the captain about the ICEBERG. So just relax, everything going to be fine. While many of you gathered on this brilliant autumn night dream weather, a full moon that light a wave less ocean to kiss a flat landscape. There, on the upper deck I saw many of you, as big group Standing together and having a great time, just when I came closer, one of you shouted: Hey friend, what do you have to say about the ten days of this wonderful voyage we will have. And after giggles from many of you I open and said: today we are making history on the best oceanliner of its kind, it’s surly going make our 10 days journey for one great experience. But what if I tell you that in less than 30 years we will be able to do this journey from Europe to New York in less than 7 hours? What happened after I said this, seemed like a surreal spectacle, the woman who stood to my right, almost choked and spewed all the Jack Daniel's she had been drinking out of her mouth. In less than five minutes I found myself walking alone on the upper deck, it kept until the end of the journey. You all avoided to be near me. I'm telling you this story in order to tell you of even better way, much faster then the jet airline that we are custom to for the last 70 years. And what I tell you now (way over due) we can have a vehicle that can take us to any point on the glob in less then a minute. If it's from NY to LA or NY to Nepal it doesn't matter the distance anymore since in both cases it goes out of the atmosphere and then reentered back to the point of your interest. I'm talking about the anti gravity technology that America had achieved nearly 30 years ago, and yes all started from 1947 Roswell NM incident. I won't get in to this, just wish to explain the ability of this exotic technology. The sport model saucer that we got from the EBENS- Extraterrestrial biological entities. After the Grenada treaty. This help to slowly reverse engineer the concept of the anti gravity. Gravity is that invisible force that stick us to the ground. And we learn that in order to achieve distortion of gravity (anti gravity) it have a lot to do with vibration. Lol I have never explain to you while on the titanic how the jet plane works but yet I'm here to explain anti gravity. How nice of me.. OK let's continue. Think about three tubes that assembled in parallel to each other and resemble an amplifier that project an ohmmmm vibration extremely low frequency. That infect all the idea which distorted the invisible force we call gravity, the moment it occurs, the saucer in which the 3 amplifiers stations in the lower part of the vehicle they create a cocoon around the vehicle / saucer a no G land to become a gravity free. It means if you to give the saucer a little push, it will move endlessly since there is no drag and it basically slid endlessly. Many of you that saw on video the crazy maneuver of those saucer accelerate to an enormous speed and then able to turn sharply right or left flawlessly. If f-16 pilot will attempt this maneuver with his f16 jet he will be Crushed on the cockpit, That's coz do to the GeForce. Inside the saucer this maneuvers would feels like a feather move and that do to fact that this distortion wrapped as cocoon around the vehicle which includes the saucer occupants.

So how would it be the ride from Pont to point on the globe?

Lol. I knew you gonna think like 6 flags but unfortunately this feeling belongs to the GeForce. But still there would be some strange feeling if the saucer would come with windows then in no doubt you all going to experience Blurred and smeared for about a minute and as soon as the vision comes back into focus you have reached your destination. So I recommend you to purchase saucer with less windows. OK I want to put all of you in perspective, I’m not telling you a tell from one thousand night and night, this technology really exists a 100% reality, and do not ever forger that NASA YOU BELOVED INSTITUTE WAS CREATED BUY PURE NATZIS, REMEMBER THAT.

GUYS PLEASE WAKE UP YOU ARE IN KIND OF DAY DREAM