#I’m having a crisis over things that don’t matter

[cerealmonster15]

man. i COULD try to rewrite some of the artfight character bios to make the more concise and less intimidatingly rambley but like. I ALREADY did that. Like a month or so ago. This WAS me trying to be brief im just Bad At It LOL. I just Added More in the end bc More Lore Showed Up after a year 🧍

[thriftdyke]

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[loveshotzz]

I guess it’s never really over

mechanic!steve harrington x fem!reader exes to lovers

chapter three -

This has got to be the longest crush ever

Robin’s bad date, and a late night that changes everything.

warnings: 18+ A little bit of queer and mid twenties crisis angst for Robin, with comfort obvi. Tension, but are we surprised at this point?, and a secret third thing, wonder what it could be? 😚

wc: 6.3k

authors note: Hi babies! I am taking just a week off from my posting schedule for this week long work trip I’m taking on Monday. There’s lots of conferences and I won’t have much down time. We will resume our normal posting schedule for chapter four starting 3/20 🌻🧡

series masterlist | series playlist

June -

Would you believe me if I said I’m in love? 

                            Baby, I want you to want me.

You can’t believe you landed yourself in detention.

All your late night study sessions for the SAT’s that led to oversleeping and missed alarms finally catching up to you just like Robin warned you it would. Miss O’Donnell is the one who makes your best friend's predictions come true, handing you that notorious pink slip for walking into her class ten minutes late for the third time this week. 

When you arrive at exactly 3:15, the classroom is mostly empty. Your eyes scan the bored faces of the few students joining you, hoping to at least see Eddie’s familiar head of curls. But of course, today of all days, he’s managed to be on his best behavior or just didn’t get caught. 

Sighing defeated, you give Mr. Clark a tight lipped smile, ignoring the shocked look on his face seeing you in here. Picking an empty desk in the middle away from anyone, you decide to busy yourself with the Algebra homework you’ve been avoiding for the better half of a week. It’s when you lean over to unzip your backpack that you catch the sounds of sneakers squeaking against the ceramic floors.

”Ahh, Mr. Harrington. Even fashionably late to detention, I see. Your hair looks good enough to sit in silence for an hour and a half to me.” Mr. Clark announces the king of Hawkins's grand entrance with the kind of sarcasm that makes you smirk as you start arranging your things on your desk.

“That’s good to know 'cause I was doing it for you Mr. C.”

Steve Harrington always thinks he’s so charming

Snorting as you click your pen, you dare to look up only to catch ‘the hair’ looking right back at you with that golden smile that you’ve seen take even the strongest soldiers out. 

Oh no. 

Eyes going big, you quickly bring your attention back down to your homework, silently hoping he doesn’t take the seat next to you and land you in here next week too. 

“So thoughtful of you. Now why don’t you take a seat and do some studying for that test on Monday. And maybe this semester you won’t have to worry about relying on extra credit to keep playing basketball.” Mr. Clark dismisses him, earning a low whistle from the boy who holds his hands up in surrender, Nike covered feet coming down your row.

No, no, no, NO.

You still don’t look up, rereading the same question over and over again because no matter how many times you try, you’re too distracted by the cedar and clove that invades your senses kicking them into overdrive. The whites of his sneakers catch in your peripherals when he does the unimaginable and sits next to you.

Staring at the equation with the kind of concentration that’ll be sure to give you a migraine later, it takes him a good thirty seconds before he temporarily gives up trying to get your attention to grab something that gives the illusion of studying out of his backpack. 

Trying to play it cool, your stomach twists in nervous knots worse than the ones you get when Robin forces you on the janky rides at the summer fair every year. Sure, you’ve been hit on by a guy here and there, but no one can prepare you for what it’s like to catch Steve Harrington’s attention—especially for someone in your Hawkins hierarchy who would never be on the receiving end of it.

He flips through the pages of his textbook loudly, earning his first warning glare from Mr. Clark, and you decide to write your name on the top of the page so at least it looks like you’re doing something. After a couple bounces of your knee, you can feel the heat of his gaze back on you.

”Psst, hey.” 

The last letter of your name comes out illegible, and you jump at the hushed sound of his voice. Taking a deep breath, you work up the courage to meet his flirtatious smirk and golden brown eyes. The sun leaking through the windows gives you a glimpse of the green that hides inside them from this close. You hate to admit that he’s just as pretty as everyone says he is.

”Hi,” you smile a little shy, offering a small wave of your pen and it lights up his whole face, making your body buzz.

”You have a highlighter I can use or something?” He keeps up his ruse, the whites of his teeth showing in a grin.

You arch an eyebrow at him, something sarcastic reminiscent of Mr. Clark flashing behind your eyes. 

“What? You don’t think I’m actually going to study?” He acts shocked, slapping his giant hand across his chest and it earns the kind of giggle from you that pushes him full steam ahead.

”It’s blue, is that okay?” Giving into the bait, you try and hide the way your face warms, ducking down to dig in the bottom of your backpack.

”Are you kidding? I love blue. Favorite color actually.” Laying it on thick, you can see the way he scoots to the edge of his seat, the spice of his cologne making you bite at your bottom lip as your fingers wrap around what you’re looking for.

Sitting up in your seat, you aren’t expecting him to be so close and it threatens to steal the air right out of your lungs.

”H-here,” you manage, holding the blue writing utensil in the small space that's left between you.

Steve's eyes roam your face freely, pink tongue coming out to wet his full bottom lip before they settle back on your gaze, lids a little heavy, voice low and somehow sticky sweet.

”Thanks, honey.” He leans forward more, purposely brushing his fingers with yours when he takes it out of your grasp, “but now, I’m afraid the only way you’re gonna get it back is to let me drive you home after this.”

“I’ve got plenty, you can keep that one,” you try to stay strong, but when that second giggle slips out, you seal your fate.

”I can’t do that, this is your favorite one.” He tisks like it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard, with a crooked grin that makes you bite the inside of your cheek.

”Is it?”

”Absolutely.”

“Are you two done? Or should we schedule a second date for next week?” Mr. Clark interrupts.

”That would actually be date number three. We’re going on two after this is over.” Steve smirks, throwing you a wink ignoring the harsh way you whisper of his name. 

Yeah… you were fucked.

“I’ve got a date tonight!” 

Robin sings excitedly, bursting through the front door in a wild ball of energy, successfully waking you up from your nap on the couch. Blinking slowly, as you start to recognize your surroundings, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you force yourself to sit up, wincing at your stiff neck and the fact that you dreamed about Steve Harrington again. 

“A date with who?” You grumble, still a little grouchy, yawning with a stretch that pops in your back.

”This girl that I met at the record store this morning, we talked about Tracy Chapman and Tori Amos for what felt like hours. She’s just, wow, she’s so cool. Almost too cool for me, you know? She’s a senior in college-“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up.” Cutting her off before she can ramble any longer, you wave your hands for her to stop: “First of all, no one is too cool for you, okay? If anything, it’s always going to be the other way around.”

“Yeah, okay, Steve.”

It takes a minute for her words to sink in about the man you haven’t seen in almost a week and a half, but when they do, the glare that settles on your face makes her laugh. 

“Ha ha, very funny.” You deadpan with a tight-lipped smirk, before clearing your throat, “Well where are you guys going? Do you want me to go undercover in case you need saving? I’m fully prepared for a stakeout.”

Robin rolls her eyes, but her smile, which spreads wide enough to see all her teeth, gives away her love for your dramatics. 

“No, I don’t need you to go undercover or anything. I mean, it is going to be nice knowing you’ll be here waiting for me to tell you all about it instead of having to call you and hope the city girl answers.” She teases, earning the scoff from you that she was looking for.

“I’m choosing to ignore that, and if at any point you change your mind, you know your own number.”

Earning a genuine laugh from Robin always makes your soul feel lighter, so when your joke lands and you get one, the heaviness of Steve that’s been weighing down on your shoulders eases up just a little bit.

”I’ve just never been approached in public before like that, you know? It’s not just the other girl you know is gay on campus. I don’t know, it feels good.” Your best friend’s confession makes you want to wrap her up in a hug, keeping the urge to remind her of your offer to move to the city with you to yourself for right now, letting her bask in the moment.

”Well, you're hot. Can you blame her? If you weren’t basically like a sister to me, I’d be all over it.” Wiggling your eyebrows, she flips you off, but you still catch the tinge of pink that paints her cheeks rosy.

”Please, Steve would have my head on a stake.” She snorts, purposely trying to get under your skin now.

”Robin.”

”What? I thought he was going to pop a blood vessel in his eye when I mentioned your little ‘adventure’ last week” She giggles, heading towards her bedroom.

If only she knew just how much those words were true. Your thighs meet like in the memory you can’t stop playing on a loop, palms turning sweaty, remembering the velvet of his lips so close to your neck.

”Wait! Did you ask that on purpose?!” You gasp, jumping to your feet to follow her.

”Maybe.”

”Maybe?!”

”You know what I do need help with?” She ignores you, spinning on her heel to meet your narrowed eyes.

”What?”

”Help me pick any outfit?” Pushing out her bottom lip, she gives you the kind of puppy dog eyes that no one in their right mind could say no to.

Sighing heavily, your feet drag on the carpet before flopping yourself onto her bed huffing out a “Fine” as the box springs squeak.

The rest of the day is spent going through what feels like every outfit in Robin’s possession, even getting desperate enough to try on some of your clothes despite your clashing styles. Settling on a pair of boot cut jeans, a black half crop top with a flannel shirt that you’re pretty sure she stole from Steve and the Dr. Martin’s you got her for her birthday last year, she was ready to break hearts. Blue eyes roll in the back of her head when you make her say ‘I’m the prize’ until you feel like she halfway believes it before handing over her I.D. that you’d found stuffed between the cushions of the couch in a frenzied panic to search for it only ten minutes prior.

The sun starts to set on Robin’s small apartment after she finally heads out the door, and the shadows that bounce off the white walls bring back the thoughts of Steve you’d successfully gotten rid of for a few fleeting hours. 

Huffing to yourself with crossed arms, you watch the flat bag of popcorn spin around in the microwave. You can still hear the beginning Moonstruck playing on the TV in the living room, over the loud hum of the machine. Comfortable in an oversized shirt that lands just at the bottoms of your cotton sleep shorts, goosebump dot across your legs from the cool of the A/C. Your skin still tingles everywhere he touched and the week of radio silence feels worse the second time around. 

The shrill sound of Robin’s phone and the first kernel of popcorn exploding in the bag overpower your ears all at once, making you jump. Mumbling cuss words under the now constant sound of popping, you try to calm your heart rate down, wandering to the living room. Your hand hovers over the phone, the realization about who might be on the other line making your stomach drop. He hadn’t called Robin yet. There’s a moment of hesitation, but you take a deep breath, letting the air expand in your lungs, silently counting to three before you grab the phone off its hook.

”Buckley residen-“

”I need you to come get me, I- I’ve made a huge mistake and I’m just so fuck - “ Robin cuts you off, the rasp in her voice cracking like she’s trying not to cry, “I’m just really embarrassed, please come get me.”

“What happened? Where are you? I’m coming, just - just tell me where you are.” Running to her bedroom to grab your sneakers with the phone pressed to your ear, you can hear her sniffle.

”Benningans, it’s the next town over. I’ll be outside -“

”Are you safe?” You panic, slipping your foot into your shoe as quickly as you can.

”I’m safe, I’m just, I’m embar- I don’t want to talk about it right now. I’m safe, I’ll be outside.” She mutters.

”I’ll get there as fast as I can, okay?” Feeling a little helpless, you try to ease the hurt that’s evident in her tone with soft reassurance. 

”I’m just, I’m really glad you're here. I’ll see you soon.” She manages to get out before the line clicks dead.

Slipping your second shoe on, the realization that you don’t actually have a car to save her with, hits you like a ton of bricks. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Stomping back to the living room, your eyes find the mustard yellow address book next to the phone’s dock. Your fingers fumble through its pages, eyes squinting as you try to read Robin’s messy writing, searching for a familiar name. You find two:

Eddie and Steve.

You stare at the page, your moral compass going haywire. Despite the way he’s rented a space in your mind, the thought of seeing him alone again makes your stomach twist. Eddie would be simple. Eddie would be easy. Your thumb hovers over the first number in the one she has scribbled down for him, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t bring yourself to press it. She needs Steve.

You groan loudly, stomping your foot for good measure, before letting out a long breath through your nose, dialing his number that you knew you should have all along. 

It only rings twice.

“Whatever it is, the answer is no,” Steve deadpans.

”Is that really how you answer your phone?” You scoff, doing your best to ignore the butterflies you’ve managed to stifle as they start to come alive at the sound of his voice.

“I thought this was - shit, I thought this was Henderson - erm I mean Dustin, you remember Dustin?” He stammers and you know that hand of his is running through his hair right now.

“Yeah, the middle schooler.”

“Well, he’s like nineteen now -“

“I didn’t call you to talk about Dustin, Steve,” You sigh heavily, rubbing the bridge of your nose, “Robin called me really upset from Bennigans, and I don’t have a car or any way to go get her-” 

“I’m on my way.” He cuts you off without any hesitation,“Be outside in five minutes for me?”

”My shoes are already on.”  

After a click, you’re left with the sound of the dial tone in your ear. You hang up the phone as warmth floods your body, easing some of your temporary worries. 

Steve Harrington is making it hard to hate him.

The short walk to Steve’s BMW from Robin’s front door feels like stepping through a time machine.

One that takes you back to late nights sneaking out your bedroom window, always being extra careful not to wake your parents up so you could go make out with your secret kind of boyfriend under the stars. Those were always your favorite nights with him. The nights he’d put away the king Steve armor, those nights he’d just be Steve. A boy who just wanted to make his father proud, thinking maybe he’d stay home more if he was.

You can feel the way his eyes roam your body, the heat of his stare lingering on your exposed legs, setting your skin on fire. Suddenly more than aware of your lack of pants, only part of you regrets not changing into some leggings, but you try not to think about that too hard right now.

He clears his throat when you open the passenger door, the smell of leather and the dark woody sweet scent of oil surrounding you as you slide into your seat. The spice of his cologne tickles your nose when you close yourself in, clicking your seatbelt in place before daring to meet his eyes. The golden brown inside them shimmers with something you’d missed in the orange glow of the street light and the nerves still feel the same way they did five years ago. The only thing that hasn’t changed.

”Thanks for doing this,” you offer with a weak smile.

When he realizes you’ve put your weapons down for the night, his face softens with a crooked grin, subtle pink dusting the apples of his cheeks.

”I meant it when I said I can’t say no to you,” he starts, selfishly letting his eyes roam the smooth lines of your face that are finally not twisted up into a glare before realizing his slip up, “and Robin, my best friend obviously.”

”Our best friend, Steve.” You tease trying to ignore the tension that crackles in the empty space between you even worse than before.

”Whatever you have to tell yourself,” he winks, forearm flexing as he puts the car in drive.

Scoffing a ‘whatever’ with a playful roll of your eyes, you let your muscles relax into the familiar seat. The Police’s Every Breath You Take spills through the speakers just loud enough to be heard over the low rumble of the engine, and you become hyper aware of his hand resting on the stick shift, the tips of his fingers just close enough to brush against your thigh every time you hit a bump. 

There’s a silence that falls between you once the street lights run out and his full focus shifts to the pitch black road ahead. The quiet is filled with what almost happened in his room, unspoken words that don’t dare to roll off of sober tongues. You wait until he’s too distracted looking for surprises that might run out from the woods on either side of you to let your eyes wander over and really take him in.

A white drawstring hangs low on his heather gray sweatpants that fit tight over his thighs spread wide. Your throat goes dry at the white tank top that hugs his broad chest, the gold chain that wraps around his neck getting lost in the thick patch of curls on display. You’re finally able to really make out more of his tattoo for the first time, thin, precise lines that look like feathers attached to a set of sparrow wings.

”Did she tell you what happened? I mean, is she safe?” He interrupts your greedy stare, eyes lighting up when he catches you, tucking it away for another time.

”Uhh, yeah,” you answer with a shake of your head, teeth biting down on your bottom lip with hot cheeks, “she’s safe, she kept saying she’s embarrassed but wouldn’t tell me why, just kept begging me to come get her.”

He just hums, lost deep in thought of all the things it could be, and his grip on the steering wheel tightens with worry. 

“We’re only ten minutes away, so it won’t be too much longer now.” 

He reassures you, but it feels like he needs it too, especially when his hand leaves the stick shift to run through his hair that looks more tousled than usual, making you wonder if he was lying in bed before this. A worried breath exhales through his nose, with a tight jaw, and you hate the way your stomach drops when both his hands find the steering wheel after he tugs on his roots a little bit. 

Nervous fingers play with the bottoms of your sleep shorts, trying your best not to stare while you keep your gaze out the passenger window. Stolen glances are followed by tight lipped smiles when you’d always find him staring back. Honey and chestnut make your stomach flutter, and you think maybe some things never change. 

It takes less than the ten minutes that Steve promised for the back roads to turn busy, and bright with the kind of lights a small town on a Saturday night has. A slouched frame sitting on the side of the road catches in his headlights, getting closer you see that Robin’s waves have lost all the bounce she left the house with, along with the rosy tint in her cheeks. The flashing Bennigans sign spins a block behind her, and the orange bulbs match the burning ember on the end of her cigarette that dangles from her full lips. 

“Shit, it’s bad if she’s smoking,” Steve mutters, turning on his hazards as he pulls up next to her, the wheels of his car coming to a stop. 

She hollows her cheeks out, taking one last drag, waving at you to stop unbuckling your seat belt as she gets to her feet. Blowing the smoke from her lungs into the wind, she flicks the half smoked butt into the street before opening the back door, sliding into the leather seats with an exasperated huff.

“Just, don’t – I’m okay,” she starts, closing the door and shutting out the whir of the traffic outside. “Turns out her boyfriend’s best friend really likes Tracy Chapman and Tori Amos too. She really thought me and him might hit it off after our talk at the record store today. I don’t want to talk about it, I just want to go home with my two favorite people and feel sorry for myself.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” Steve doesn’t miss a beat. Turning around in his seat, he flashes her his million-dollar Harrington smile. “I’m the king of feeling sorry for myself.”

Her lips twitch, but when she sees the natural roll of your eyes at the boy next to you, it turns into a full blown smile. A little shimmer came through in the dulled-out color of her eyes.

Got me up all night

            all I’m singing is love songs.

“Honestly, now that I’m thinking about it, this girl sounds like a scammer, Rob. I mean, come on.” Steve snorts, rifling through her cupboards in the kitchen. Tracy Chapman and Tori Amos, what kind of game was she playing at anyway?”

Robin giggles from her place next to you on the couch, her head resting on your shoulder, the green apple of her shampoo still lingering on her curls that tickle your cheek. 

“Plenty of people like those artists, Steve.” She sighs, but you can still hear her smile, “It’s fine, I’ll just stay the lonely Hawkins lesbian for the rest of my life, no big deal.”

”Shut up!”

”Will you stop?!”

You and Steve chide her at the same time, hard eyes meeting from across the living room and softening. He doesn’t even try to stop the lopsided grin that pushes up your favorite cheek and you hope Robin doesn’t feel the way it makes your skin warm. 

“Whatever, I already warned you I’m going to be miserable. Gimmie a break, and you’re actually taking forever in there, by the way.” Whining, she sits up, sending a rush of fruit and leftover tobacco to your nose.

“Yeah, well, I can’t find your peanut butter,” he mutters, opening up the cabinet above the sink, the bottom of his tank top rising enough to see a sliver of sun kissed skin and a few more freckles. Why does it feel like there's always more?

”What are you even making anyway?” you ask, ignoring the way Robin’s head whips around. A smirk spreads wide across her face because you’re actually trying to make conversation with Steve.

“Just a little something that’s going to cure my best friend’s heartbreak,” he winks, the jar of JIF extra crunchy looking extra small in his grasp, twisting the cap off. “We came up with it together, actually.o biggie.”

Your gaze narrows, but he doesn’t miss the way the corners of your mouth twitch, something sparkling inside the dark gold in his eyes.

”Interesting, considering I ran to the store earlier to grab my best friend’s favorite ice cream, just in case.” You counter, something mischievous twisting up your lips. “You didn’t even think to stop and get it on our way home. Some friend.”

Robin’s smile lights up the room, very obviously enjoying the show, maybe even a little too much. Clapping her hands together, she lets out a content sigh before leaning back into the couch cushions.

”I really could get used to this,” she beams, “maybe we should have a contest, see which one of you can do the nicest things for me.”

You can’t stop the snort or the roll of your eyes that has Steve throwing his head back in a fully-bellied laugh, giving you the perfect view of his neck, and only Robin clocks the way your giggles are cut short and the secret way your eyes glaze over.

”I’m not gonna lie as much as I love crunchy peanut butter banana s’mores, I have to say Steve, the fact that she actually called you makes her the winner for the night.” She smirks, chuckling harder when you shove her with a hushed ‘Robin!’

His smile doesn’t fade as he starts to cut banana slices. Big eyes meet yours with the kind of look that threatens to melt you into the couch.

”That’s alright, I’ll be a gracious loser tonight, but just know, honey, I’m very competitive.” He warns, long fingers spreading the fruit evenly throughout the peanut butter that messily coats graham crackers.  

“I don’t like to lose, so it’s fine.” Your quick reply deepens the smile lines in his cheeks, putting the finishing touches on your snacks.

“Yeah, this is definitely the life I was meant to live,” Robin gloats, nudging you, “I’m the prize, right?”

It’s your turn to throw your head back in the kind of laugh that rattles in your rib cage, too distracted to see the lovesick way Steve bites his bottom lip watching you from across the room.

But Robin does.

With a heart so full it might burst, tears threaten to spill from the ocean in her eyes, daydreaming about moments like this, only ever thinking they would be something that stayed trapped in the confines of her mind. The warming feeling of happiness wraps around Robin like a blanket when she gets to sit between you both on the couch. A distant friend she hasn’t seen in a long time, a secret she’s kept mostly to herself. 

With a messy plate of half eaten treats and sticky fingers, she’s content watching Cher and Nicholas Cage fight over how much they love each other. Fully knowing that Steve is sneaking looks at you from over her head, smiling to herself at the nervous way you fiddle with your hands in your lap because of it.

Robin doesn’t fight the exhaustion that starts to make her eyelids heavy just a little halfway through the movie. It’s easy to give in when your body weight relaxes deeper into her side, and how Steve drapes his arm over the back of the couch, tucking you both into his chest with evening breaths.

You’re warm, cozier than normal, and it surrounds every part of you.

Cheek pressed against something that’s not firm enough to be the couch, you nuzzle yourself deeper, chasing the heat and the sleep that’s threatening to evade you. Your cushion starts to move, making eyes shift behind lids that aren’t ready to open yet. Lashes flutter, feeling the way your leg is slotted between someone else’s, and the warmth of a palm finds the small of your back, pulling you closer.

A deep sigh rumbles in your ear before fingertips lazily trace up and down the dip of your spine. Stubble tickles your forehead, and as coherency starts to come back to you, a softer patch of hair rubs against your cheek. The kind of spice and lingering sunshine that could only come from one person hits your senses, and the white cotton of Steve’s tank top finally becomes visible. 

The shift in your breathing brings his soft touches to a halt, the muscles you’re pressed on your side against stiffening. Realizing your hands are sprawled across his chest, just under your chin, you can feel the way his heart races under your palm. He’s everywhere, and despite the way you’ve told yourself you hate him, your fingers curl into the cotton of his shirt because it feels like home. Toes pressing into his calf, you wind your leg around his tighter, and it turns timid fingertips sure of themselves, tracing patterns between your shoulder blades. You don’t dare look up at him yet, or it would make the way your own hand starts to explore his abs that twitch under your red nails real. 

He feels different than you remember, there's more of him now, harder in spots that used to be soft. Your fingers get greedy, the blunt ends of your nails scratching along the outline of his happy trail, earning a low groan from him that vibrates deep in your core. Those butterflies that have made a permanent home out of you start to stretch their wings, and when they feel the soft velvet of his lips against your forehead, they tickle at your ribcage and kick up your heart rate. You wonder if he can feel it.

It’s the faintest kiss, one that you’re not sure you would’ve even felt if you were asleep, but it makes you lean in closer. Inhaling deeply, tears sting at the corner of your eyes when the familiar scent only makes you crave him more. After years spent denying the existence of his touch from your memory, it’s almost overwhelming to feel it again. 

The muscles in his arm underneath your neck twitch, and the fingers that have been drawing lazy circles on your back move slowly up your shoulder. The backs of them run down your arm before they finally connect with your skin, goosebumps exploding underneath his touch in a ball of electricity that you can feel on the pads of them that start a new path up the loose sleeve of your shirt.

You fiddle with the bottom hem of his tank top, the heat of his body radiating against already flushed skin. Brave fingers dare to dip underneath only to get stopped by a large palm wrapping around your wrist 

“Baby,” there's a hint of a smile and a little bit of grogginess in his voice that gives away that he hasn’t been awake that much longer than you, “I think you should at least look at me before I let you get under my shirt.”

Biting at your bottom lip, you push yourself deeper into his chest, embarrassed, feeling the gentle shake of his body when he laughs. 

“Come on pretty, let me see your face.”

His affection makes your heart swell, and you know what it means if you look him in the eyes. Your nails dig into the cotton, tugging at the fabric a little while you pull yourself together, lashes fluttering against your cheeks, shaking the rest of the sleep. Lifting your head up from its hiding place, you cross the line you promised yourself you wouldn’t, but when you meet the green that shimmers in the darkness of his eyes, and the crooked grin that twists up his full pink lips, it feels good to give in.

Releasing the hold on your wrist, he’s gentle, almost hesitant, when his warm palm cups your cheek. The rough pad of his thumb traces the line of your cheekbone feather light, and you can’t help but lean into his touch. No more armor, fleeting glances, or stolen looks, not when he’s this close and even more handsome in the glow of the moonlight. 

“Beautiful.” He murmurs just loud enough for you to hear, and your legs somehow wrap around his tighter.

”Yeah?” you whisper, your fingers coming up to the play with the gold chain dangling from his neck. “Why didn’t you kiss me then?”

”What?”

”Last week,” 

”That wasn’t the right time,” he sighs, eyes tracing every line of your face like he’s committing it to memory, “It would have ruined it.”

“Ruined what?” You press, twisting the metal between your fingertips, heartbeat ringing in your ears.

“My chance at trying to do this the right way, the way you deserve.” He doesn’t hesitate to say it, like it’s something he’s thought about for years, and it makes your head spin.

“What about now?” 

“That depends,” he hums, the pad of his thumb dragging across the slight pout of your bottom lip, threatening to steal the air from your lungs.

”On?” Your voice comes out just above a whisper. Tilting your chin up, you can still smell the peanut butter on his breath.

”If you want me to.”  He breathes, the tip of his nose running along the length of yours. 

Your hold on his gold chain tightens, pulling him even closer. His eyebrows pinch together when he feels the slightest brush of your lips against his, and he can still taste the sweetness of the banana.

”Please tell me you want me to.” 

The desperation in his voice is enough for you to tug him down, closing what’s left of the small gap, your top lip catching against his full bottom one. Just enough to feel the familiar silk that could leave a wildfire in their wake before you finally speak.

“Kiss me, Steve.”

A groan rattles deep in his chest, and he doesn’t hesitate to do what he’s wanted to since he saw you. Applying just enough pressure to wake up every last butterfly, the tip of his nose pushes into your cheek when he slots his lips with yours. It’s soft at first like he’s testing the waters, taking it slow so he can savor it, just in case you never let him do it again.

He pulls away enough to look at you, chestnut eyes blown out wide, and you hate that you already miss his kiss. Giving into everything you’ve fought for so long, it’s your turn to capture his lips. It stuns him at first, but when you open your mouth, his body melts easily into yours, and that big hand of his moves from your cheek to hold the back of your neck. Tongue swiping boldly across your lower lip, he begs you to let him in.

Moans get hidden, muffled inside each other's mouths after you grant him access, your fingers tangle themselves inside the thick forest of his hair that’s still just as soft as you remember. Nipping at his bottom lip, the grip on the back of your neck tightens and you can feel the way he kicks up in his sweats because of it. Your own thighs threatening close when you’re reminded of what’s between his legs.

“Baby,” he warns in between kisses, feeling the roll of your hips, but you don’t miss the subtle way he tries to meet them with his own.

It’s too easy to get lost in him, and the years it took to move past him make even more sense when your tongue finds his again. Fighting for dominance, you try not to think about the irreversible damage tonight might do to you as you tug at his roots, teeth scraping together, the kiss turns more heated by the second. Years of anger and longing come out in desperate touches. His hand finds its way to your hip, the pads of his fingers brushing against the skin under your shirt, sending a shiver up your spine, letting you roll them one, two, three times before tightening his hold.

He pulls you closer, letting you win before his nose nudges against your cheek, his lips finding the corner of your mouth. Catching his breath, he trails them along your jaw before making his way down your neck. Your chest heaves, fingers turning soft and slowly running through his hair. He hums against your skin, his hand staying under your shirt, the warmth of his palm covering the small of your back, leaving wet kisses on the sensitive spot behind your ear.

”Let me take you on a date,” he whispers, leaving one more under his jaw before pulling back to look at you.

”Steve -“

”Just one,” he begs, bumping his nose with yours, smirking when it makes you smile.

”Let me sleep on it,” you sigh, ducking your head under his chin to hide. Too many thoughts trying to occupy space in your mind with a head still dizzy from his lips.

”I’ll take what I can get,” he laughs, the tips of his fingers starting up the familiar patterns that started all of this, quickly make your eyelids heavy, nuzzling deeper into his chest. You weren’t ready to think about tomorrow yet.

🌻 chapter four

[neptunes-sol-angel]

Just a reminder that everyone has both a masculine and a feminine side, so don't hesitate to read the feminine version of this pick a card too.

Paid Readings | Botanica | Tip Jar

Pile One 👢

BEYONCÉ- RIIVERDANCE

Someone could be feeling really entitled to your energy. They could be asking a lot from you, where one demand is contradictory to the other demand, which can be very draining for you. Then on top of that, they could be trying to tell you to change certain aspects of your personality that interfere with their gall to have excessive control over you. They could be naturally intimidated by you and use microaggressive verbiage to get you to submit to them. Like if they’re being passive aggressive with you, your tendency to be direct, would make them label you as aggressive. Or if you’re not even the type to use your voice a lot because of anxiety, they could ask you to communicate instead of being avoidant, and then when you do speak up it’s still a problem. Your masculine side is trying to get you to see that this double-edged sword is not an excuse to continue letting others walk all over you and stagnate your life and comfort. You’re in a situation where boundaries simply aren’t enough for this relationship to be balanced, it’s time to cut ties. You must take that control over your own life back and stop placing so much value on what other people say that they want you to do because the thing about people pleasing, is that whether you’re doing it or trying to recover from it, people will never be satisfied or happy with what you do and how you do it. You're always going to piss someone off or be labeled in some way as “not doing enough” of something, and that’s the other message, which is to learn what’s in your control and what’s not for you to control. If you’re dealing with someone who’s exhausting you that you aren’t biologically responsible for, I’m hearing “do it. It’s ok to do it”. Deprive that person of the resources that you’ve given them to remind them of what they really didn’t deserve in the first place, not as a punishment, but as a way to remind yourself that you are the source of your own power and to stop keeping people around who are pulling you down because they convinced you that you need them.

Pile Two 👢

BEYONCÉ- AMEN

Give your body a break. Give away this idea that you need to be fighting all of the time to get what you want and need or that you have to sacrifice yourself to provide for others. That message is mostly for those in my collective who are the eldest child and have to bear the brunt of responsibility. Something needs to be done differently, but it all starts with putting your foot down. Call out what’s being done that’s unfair to you. If there's a double standard with your gender, say that, because you’re not crazy. It’s not the coconut oil to all of your problems but changing your mindset does allow for some shifts and changes to your situation to happen. Acknowledge that you’d rather invest your hard work into something else, like getting your own place or making moves towards something that harmonizes with your ambition, because no matter how difficult it may be to accomplish those goals, keeping your focus on that target is what will help make getting to that goal or goals a lot faster without you feeling a loss of motivation on the way. For others in this pile, you need to allow others to help you. When you’re going through a mental crisis or an addiction, it is heavily underestimated how healing socializing can be. You don’t need to be ashamed or feel less than because you need assistance, having a community is so important because there can be times where your own mind can be your enemy and the way to combat it, is having a friend or in general someone, who cares, to help pull you out of that. Imposter syndrome and intrusive thoughts could be something that’s being struggled with and just know that you are worthy and able to get help with it, but remember, even on your worst days, that you are enough and you can do whatever your mind is trying to create doubt around.

Pile Three 👢

BEYONCÉ - LEVII'S JEAN

If you feel like your love life is nonexistent because it has to do with the way that you look, the answer is both yes and no. You think it’s because people don’t find you attractive, but people find you to be extremely hot, but you know what’s also hot? Your aura, and people don’t want to be burned whether they deserve it or not. Even if you don’t have big expectations in love, you look like you do, or you’re not aware of how you sound when you talk about the things that you like or want. I even have this feeling that if the majority of people who secretly admire you approached you, you would not be impressed with them and that’s ok. Your standards and expectations, even if you don’t think that they are high, are what protect you. Don’t let your curiosity of stepping outside of what you want, be your temptation for something that you could potentially regret. One day you will find that love that you’re looking for and some of you have actually already found it, but you’re not seeing yourself as someone they could have feelings for. You need to start seeing yourself in a better light and having more confidence over your divinely given features, both physical and internal, because it’s so easy to miss out on opportunities in love and your career because you don’t see how gifted you are.

[sanyu-thewitch05]

F! Yuu’s Dad in Twst Wonderland Headcanons pt. 2

Pt.1

Heartslabyul, Octavinelle, Scarabia, and Pomefiore are genuinely the only dorms that respect your dad.

Savannaclaw keeps trying to fight him with the exception of Jack, Ruggie, and Leona.

Ignihyde fears your father. Mainly because your father thinks Idia is some form of a perverted weirdo.

🦀: Yuu, that weird boy is looking at you and your cat again.

🎮: Please let me touch your cat…

🦀:….I’m going to give you five minutes to get away from us.

Meanwhile, Diasomnia, is still amused your dad tried to beat up Malleus.

The core emotions and feelings of Diasomnia towards Yuu’s dad is the following:

Malleus: Amused and now takes gaining any sort of relationship with you as a challenge

Silver: A bit wary of your dad but still gets why he’s so protective over you

Sebek: Wants to beat him up for threatening Malleus and thinks he can win

Lilia: As a father he understands and is probably going to tell Malleus not to purposefully irritate your father for his own good.

After witnessing Riddle’s overblot, your father is convinced on staying at the Isle Sage’s hotel

Or maybe trying RSA

Whatever option comes first.

In fact, he actually tried to bolt out of NRC after the Savannaclaw overblot.

🦀: Yuu! Yuu! Yuu, listen to me! These kids are not right in the head. A hyena furry boy was using magic to control people’s bodies so they fall down the stairs. For a school tournament! And the lion furry man, BY THE WAY, he is 20! He tried to turn everyone into sand!

🦐: Dad, please, they’re my friends and I give them comfort. Plus Riddle and Leona were having a mental health crisis.

🦀: These kids are serial killers or murders in the making! We should’ve ran when we found out they worshipped Disney villains!

You end up running out of NRC with your father with Grim, and by the time morning came, someone has already found you.

♥️: Yo. I heard Yuu was staying here now.

🦀: How did you find us?

♥️: Um…I had a bit of help…more like magic spell really.

Deuce, Epel, Jack, Silver, and Sebek step out from behind Ace.

🦀: *Sigh* Look, I get we teleported into your school, but we really don’t need to stay there-

🦐: Dad, can’t I attend school there until we go home? It’s perfect.

🦀: They literally don’t even have a girls bathroom for you to use.

🦐: Doesn’t matter. I can use the bathroom when no one is in there.

Then things heat up when Malleus appears.

🐉: There you are, Child of Man. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.

🦀: Let me guess, you didn’t see her inside her room when you floated by? Like you usually do when you think no one notices?

🐉: Child of Man, would you like to go to my gargoyles club meeting? It’s really only me, but together we can bring more people.

🦀: That is the worst lie for a date I’ve ever heard. Also, her name is Yuu not Child of Man. And this Man is named F/N. Besides, we still don’t know your actually name Hornyton.

The mocking of the nickname Yuu picked out for him causes him to get upset. Which inadvertently activated the fairy tale fae behavior.

🐉: You know, a name is a very important thing to give away. If I give my name to you, you must give something to me.

🦀: You realize I can just break into Crowley’s office and get your school records or just ask anyone what your name is, right?

🐉: Perhaps, your daughter might be something of equal value to give. My name for a girl with an otherworldly name. I assure you I’ll treat her well if you give her to-

Your dad punches Malleus square in the nose and KOs him.

⚡️: WAKA-SAMA!

❤️&♠️: Damn.

🗡️: I told him not to make being in a relationship with Yuu a challenge.

🍎: Nice right hook.

🐺: What good form.

Your dad shuts the door, and packs up your stuff again.

You move back into Ramshackle the next day, but this time there’s iron hanging around the doors and windows.

[lainiespicewrites]

Coach Syverson Part 2

I really didn't think I was going to finish writing this so soon but ya'll loved the first part! and I love writing this so here it is the final part with all the good stuff! Also it's 4 am and I probably should have proof read this. but I didn't. Iwas so excited to get it posted because You guys BLEW UP the first part so THANK YOU!!!

Warnings: SMUT at the end, Oral (m and f receiving), (p in v), lots of cusring in the end , so much praising because you know he would!!

Sy was in coach mode with the team as I looked over the sign in sheet and greeted the students that were traveling to watch the game. Most of the students were loaded onto the bus now. Thank God because I was so distracted by him. There was something about seeing him like this, he was so in charge and in control. He had their full attention and he never had to work to get it. He had those boys respect the first time he walked out to the field. But he earned it too. He was such a good coach. I loved listening to the way he spoke with them.

“Alright boys,” I listened as he pulled the team into a huddle before they got on the bus next to ours. “Listen first and foremost I want y’all to go out there and pay hard. That’s what we’ve been practicing. We’ve watched their tape. These guys are a little bigger than you but that doesn’t matter. We’re faster. You come at ‘em low and fast they’re gonna go down. Matt I need your eyes on that ball at all times man! We just about lost some points last week because of misdirection and we ain’t gonna let that happen again right?” 

“No, sir! I got you coach!”

“Atta boy! Derek, you keep throwing that ball like you’ve been in practice this week and we’ll be in good shape!” Derek just nodded. Sy smiled. “Alright, now boys I don’t want any messing around in the locker room. You go in, and be respectful, I want them talking about how great of character our team has just as much as they’re talking about how good we play, understood?”

“Yes coach!” The boys chanted in unison. 

“Alright, load up let’s go!” The boys started cheering. I smiled. I loved watching him with them. The way he got them all fired up. And he matched their energy. He was so adorable right now. Joking around with the boys and 

“Hey Miss Plummer!” right, I’m not a teenager watching my crush, I’m an adult, I have a job to do. 

“Hi Caitlyn! Are you ready for the game tonight?” I smiled at her. She was all decked out with the eye under eye black and Tyler's jersey number painted on her cheek in the school colors. She and a few of the other girls made t-shirts and were wearing them to support a few of the players they were friends with. 

“So ready!!” She squealed, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet. She looked over toward the buses where the team was loading the bus with their equipment, where I had been staring off earlier. “He’s so cute isn’t he?” She said, I raised an eyebrow and smirked a little. 

“Are you excited to watch Tyler play?” I chuckled. 

“Yeah, But I meant coach Sy, are you two finally together? He totally likes you! Everyone knows it! And you two would be so cute together!! The students talk about it all the time. I mean you’re wearing his hoodie Miss Plummer!” Wow that girl talks fast. He likes… no. But if the students see it? Am I really that blind? He bought my dinner, He brings me coffee, he called me his work wife. But I’m not his body type. These things don’t happen. Are my insecurities really that deep rooted that I can’t take the advice I give my students? But still. When I was in school I remember rumors spreading about teachers seeing each other all the time and they usually…. Well actually. Now that I think about it. They normally ended up being true. Some of them were even scandals. I shook my head. 

“Slow down sweetheart,” I managed to let out a chuckle even though I kind of felt like I was having a crisis. “Coach Sy and I are friends, I’m just borrowing his sweatshirt because I didn’t have one. It’s sweet that you all care about us so much. I love that. I do. But well, that’s all it is, honey.” She nodded sadly. And looked back at the other bus and over at Sy. He caught us looking at him and smiled. 

���Miss Plummer,” She sighed exasperated, like me not understanding my own love life was exhausting for her.   “I don’t wanna over step but I overheard him and Mrs. Spencer talking. She came into his class at the end of the day Wednesday smiling and stuff. And like I wasn’t TRYING to eavesdrop but I heard them talk about you and I just couldn’t resist ya know? Anyway, she said she had this idea, she could back out of coming today so he could hang out with you and well…. Nevermind.” I raised an eyebrow. 

“Caitlyn, what have we said about gossiping?” I said. 

“Girl, It’s true though, that man’s got it bad for you Miss P.” I shook my head and smiled

“Get on the bus Caitlyn,”  

“Okay fine, But when you guys get married, can I be in the wedding?” I rolled my eyes. “Guess that’s a no.” She said and stepped on the bus. I looked over one last time. Sy was double checking something on his clipboard while the boys finished up. He looked up and we made eye contact. He winked and I blushed, giving him a little wave before I followed Caitlyn on to the bus. Things took off fast when we got to the other school. Sy took the boys straight to the locker room to gear up because we got a little stuck in traffic. Myself and the two other chaperones led the students to their section in the bleachers and about 15 minutes later we were at kick off. Sy was completely in his comfort zone out there. 

Our boys had the ball first. Sy had his couch voice on shouting a couple of corrections from the sidelines. The team made a good play but in the end the other boys were bigger and their defense was strong. We had to settle for three points instead of a touchdown. 

The whole first quarter of the game stayed that way. The boys managed to keep the other team out of the end zone. The start of the second quarter the other team had the ball. They made a play and when one of our boys Zach Owens went to tackle the player he lost his footing. It had rained earlier in the day and the  He slipped but still grabbed the player by the ankle. He got him down but he ended up at the bottom of a dog pile. Another player reached out to give Zach a hand to help him up, but he fell back immediately when he tried to stand. He was hurt. 

I immediately looked to Sy, I was on the first level of the bleachers standing against the railing. I was close enough to see him curse under his breath before running onto the field. The medic followed him out. I walked out to the sideline. Sy and the medic got Zach up but he couldn’t put any pressure on his left ankle. Everyone cheered for him while they walked him off the field. Poor kid was going to be out the rest of the game. 

“You’re gonna be alright man,” Sy said as they got him to the bench. “This guy’s gonna wrap that ankle and then you just chill here. Just breathe,” He clapped him on the shoulder and turned back to his place on the sidelines. The boys were starting the next play and already the other team scored a touchdown on us. I walked up to him hesitantly. He shouted something about tightening the defense. I jumped a little. I'd never been this close to him in coach mode. It was kinda hot though. What was I saying? I came up next to him brushing my shoulder against his.  He looked over and his shoulders relaxed a little and he smiled when he saw it was me. “Hey Sugar,”

“Is he gonna be okay?” I asked. He nodded. 

“Yeah, It’s not broken but he sprained it real good. He’s gonna be down at least a couple weeks. He’s our best tackle.” He sighed softly and his lips quirked up into a sad lopsided smile

“I know, that’s gonna kill us. But the boys can pull through. They’ve got you as a coach.” I smiled. He threw his arm around me and pulled me against his side squeezing my shoulder. 

“You’re so damn sweet,” he said. I blushed and turned into his shoulder to hide my face. “You’re freezing, darling,” He ran his hand up and down my arm for a minute “shit,” he mumbled. He pulled out a 10 dollar bill from his pocket “I told ya I pay for coffee tonight, meant to give this to you earlier.”  He looked down at me, his blue eyes briefly holding my gaze as he grinned. 

“Logan you don’t have to do that,” I said trying to push his hand away. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. 

“You say that an awful lot. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t want to. Now quit arguing with me and take it.” He narrowed his eyes at me and nodded down at the cash in his hand. I rolled my eyes and sighed.

“You know, you can be a real diva when you don’t get you’re way.” I said taking it from him. 

“Are you complaining about free coffee?” He smirked and pulled me close to his side again keeping me warm. 

“No,” I chuckled softly. I looked back at the bleachers watching some of my kids for a second. A few of them were a little two close for comfort. “I’d better get back up there,” I said sadly. I really liked being next to him. 

“Yeah, I guess you should.” He left his arm around me a few seconds longer before he finally let me go. He was such a teddy bear sometimes. As I was making my way back to the bleachers I heard. A few of the boys on the team talking, 

“OOOOH Coach you look at you,” One of them said

“That was smooth. Can you teach me how to do that?” 

“You gonna be gettin some later coach.” The last one spoke. Logan’s voice was stern but still playful. 

“Y’all wanna match zach on the bench next week? I won’t hesitate. Watch it! What is that an extra 3 laps to the 5 you were already running on monday Tyler?” He smirked. 

“Damn Coach!! You Savage!” One of the other boys piped in. 

“You wanna join him, Jake?” He mused. 

“No Sir, I’m good!” He spoke quickly and I laughed to myself as I walked back up the bleachers. 

I sat with the students for a while breaking up a few young couples trying to get a little too close while they were away from mom and dad. I hated to be a buzzkill but they know the rules. 

Sy was back on high alert. At the start of the third quarter the boys were down by 10 points. They shouldn’t have been the refs missed and obvious penalty against the other team for shoving one of our guys. I was definitely part of the crowd that was screaming at that point. But right now Derek, our quarterback had gotten the boys down the field and they were set up for another touch down. They made the play. He threw a complete pass to tyler and they got the points! Every was cheering. With the extra kick good the boys only need one more touch down to get ahead. 

The rest of the quarter went by and then only 2 minutes left in the 4th quarter. The team was still down by 3 points. The clock was running out they had 45 seconds left we had the ball but we were only at the 40 yard line. We needed a miracle. But Sy taught our boys well. Derek found an opening and through a perfect pass down the field to Matt. The whole crowd was on their feet. He Caught the pass at the 20 yard line and ran the rest of the way down the field into the end zone with 10 seconds left. We got the touch down. The student section was shaking the bleachers jumping around. The game finished and we let the kids run down to wait by the gate to make  a tunnel for the team to run through. I walked down to the side lines to wait in a crowd of people to see the winning coach. 

While I looked over keeping an eye on the kids while they celebrated with the team. I held my coffe close to my chest too keep me and my hands warm. I loved seeing Sy like this. This is totally where he belonged. He looked famous talking with the other coaches and people asking him about what he was working on with the team. I over heard two ladies having a conversation a few feet infront of me.

“Their coach is so handsome,” The first one said. She was tall, Thin long blonde hair. Wearing some sporty leggings the looked super expensive and the other teams spirit wear.

“Oh I know! You think he’s single?” The other said she looked similar to the other woman but a little shorter and her hair was darker. 

“I don’t know I saw that lady with him earlier but, he’s gorgeous and well, I mean I don’t wanna sound rude but she seemed a little big to be his type.” The blonde said. 

“No I know what you mean when I saw him with his arm around here I was like… if that’s his wife… well he could’ve done better.” My heart dropped. I knew they were talking about me. I felt like I was going to be sick. I knew it. Everything, I’d always felt, every reason I told everyone they were wrong. These two just confirmed it. Logan would never see me as anything more than a friend. My insecurities just kept bubbling to the surface the way I felt about my body and what I’d worked on for years all came rushing back. I ran right passed them missing the shocked look on their faces. They hadn’t realized I’d been so close. It didn’t matter they were right. 

I didn’t hear him either. Excusing himself from the other men he’d been talking two and calling after me. I ran into the bathrooms locking the door behind me and took a deep breath. You’re not crying not here. You’re a big girl. Hold it in until you’re alone. I calmed myself down and took one last deep breath before walking back out. 

Logan was leaning on the wall outside the door waiting. 

“Hey Sugar, you alright? You looked like you were gonna be sick? Feeling okay?” Shit I didn’t even know he’d noticed me walk by. I nodded taking another deep breath and staring at the ground. 

“Yeah, just um, felt a little off for a second.” I said. “I’ll be alright. You’d better get back to the boys.” He put his hand on my shoulder and I shrugged him off. I looked up and saw the confused look in his eyes.

“I’m meeting the boys at the bus, it’s a late night so we’re headed straight back.” he stated. “You sure you’re okay sugar, why don’t you ride back with me, I can keep an eye on ya. And the boys wanna thank their good luck charm for being here.” he smiled. 

“No, I mean. No that’s sweet of them. And nice of you to offer but. It’s not fair to the others. I said I’d chaperone I can’t just leave them short like that.” I said. 

“They won’t be Carol will be …”he paused and groaned.

“What do you mean Carol will be there? She couldn’t come tonight.” I was confused now. 

“Damnit this isn’t how I wanted to do this. She was always going to be here. Uh she was helping me out… with…” 

“Caitlyn was right,” I cut him off. 

“I thought she was listening,” He chuckled and shook his head. “She told ya huh? Well cats out of the bag then, I uh,” He laughed and let out a shaky breath rubbing the back of his neck. “I really like you Darlin’, I have for a while.” He smiled sheepishly and bit his lip. My hands were shaking and all of a sudden I felt sick again. This is what I’d always wanted but I didn’t feel real. I couldn’t be here right now. Surely there was a punchline waiting there always was. This was a joke right. Those women from earlier are right around the corner somewhere recording. How could I be so stupid. I shook my head. Tears were welling up in my eyes. 

“I, I have to go, they’re gonna need my help loading the buses.” I said and ran past him toward the parking lot. He called after me but I kept walking. When I got to the parking lot only one of our buses was still there. I let out a slow breath and then sighed. “God I’m a fucking idiot,” I groaned. 

“I uh.. Sent the other bus ahead” I heard Sy say from behind me. I stood there for a second quietly and then just nodded. “Wait here, I gotta talk to the boys and then we’ll head out,” He said. 

I watched him walk over. Some of the boys started to whistle and holler. I couldn’t hear Logan but he shut it down quick. The boys loaded up into the bus and gestured for me to follow. He gave me a soft smile and followed me on sitting in the seat across from mine. Other than the boys celebrating the game in the back ground it was a silent ride home. How did I screw this up so bad. He planned out this whole thing. But, somehow I still don’t believe this. My phone lit up with a text from the girls. 

“How was the game? I saw you guys won!” Skyler sent. I needed them right now. I looked over at sy he was scrolling on his phone, or looking out the window, I didn’t know what to say right now. I texted the girls back. 

“The game was good, But I’m an idiot.” I replied. 

“How so?” Hayley texted back quickly. I poured out everything into the text. They knew why I felt he shouldn’t like me, even if I never said it. So I’m sure that was no surprise to them. I told them about what those women had said. And my little panic attack. Sy telling me how he felt and how I ran off. And when I finally clicked together that he had put this together so he could ask to take me out. And How I royally fucked it all up. 

“Oh Alayna, I’m sorry. That really sucks. But have you tried talking to him about any of this.”  Skyler said. 

“I didn’t have the time, and I can’t, He probably already hates me now and realizes I was never worth it anyway.”

“Stop it dude! I don’t wanna hear that from you. Clearly he thinks you are. He went through all that effort because he wanted to make sure he got the right opportunity. So he would care if you told him! You need to tell him what you’re feeling. I know it’s scary but you have to.” Hayley sent back. 

“She’s right Alayna, I know this is hard, but he’s not in this to hurt you, I know people have before but girl, You can’t believe for the rest of your life every man is the same. Pull him aside when you get back. You can fix this. We love you!!” 

I knew they were right. But I didn’t have much time to muster up the courage to do anything. When I looked up from my phone we were pulling back up to the school. The team got off the bus. “Alright boys! Get home safe, I’ll see you Monday morning for practice,” Sy said before letting them go. I grabbed my things from the bus and headed to my car. But when I got there I noticed something wasn’t right my shoulders slumped. I’d left a light on when I was searching for a jacket. God I hope it didn’t drain my battery. I got in and tried to start it. But of course. What’s that saying. If it can go wrong it will. I got out and slammed the door shut. “Fuck!” I shouted. I couldn’t help it now the damn broke and I couldn’t help but start crying “I’m so stupid!” I kicked at  tire and slammed my fist on the hood of my car. “Ow fuck!” I held my hand that was now throbbing. 

“Woah, Hey, What’s going on?” Sy asked coming up behind me quicking after hearing me shouting. 

“It’s nothing, I'm sorry. My… battery died. I left a light on. My car won’t start.” I hiccuped trying to control my breathing. He pulled me into his chest and hugged me.

“Okay, It’s gonna be alright. Breath. Good girl. Calm down.” He spoke softly. “Now,” he pulled away slightly to look at me in they eyes. “Do you have jumper cables?” I shook my head 

“No I, had some old ones and I threw them out and never replaced them I… forgot.” he nodded. And let go leaving me against his car to go check the tool box in the back of his truck.

“Shoot. Yeah, I thought so,” He mumbled to himself, “Sorry, sugar. I left mine in my garage.” He said. I nodded. “It’ll be fine here tonight, I can take you home.” Again I just nodded. I heard him let out a deep breath. “Did I,” He paused. “Did I do something wrong? I, I just thought... Maybe I was reading it wrong. I was just sure that you felt…”

“I do,” I said cutting him off. “ I do feel the same. I just don’t understand why, you feel the way you do. I …” I didn’t know what else to say I just kept staring at the pavement.

“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I? You’re gorgeous. Shit, I’ve been flirtin’ with you since I met you. You really couldn’t see it?” I shook my head. 

“No,” I said finally looking up at him. “I wanted to. I really wanted to, but I just couldn’t believe that a guy as good looking as you would find me attractive.” I said. He chuckled softly. “Don’t laugh at me!” I pouted. 

“I’m not, it’s just, baby, you might just be the dumbest smart girl i’ve ever met. Seriously, that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. And I coach teenage boys!” I smiled a little. “There she is. You wanna tell me what’s goin on in that pretty little head of yours? He asked. I took a deep breath. It’s now or never. 

“I was waiting to talk to you after the game, and I heard these women talking. They were talking about how handsome you are. And if you were single. One of them had said they’d seen me with you on the sidelines. She made a comment about my weight and that there was no way I would be your type. And The other girl said some things too. I felt really insecure. I already didn’t believe that you would be into me but when I heard someone else say it, it solidified it for me. And then when you told me how you felt. It felt like a joke. I felt like I was in high school again and everyone was going to gather around and start laughing. And to be honest. My experiences since then haven’t been great. I haven’t been with good guys. I just I was afraid I was going to be hurt. Honestly sometimes I don’t even know how I do this job because I can’t even take my own advice.” I looked down again. It was a relief to let it all out but if I looked him in the eye I was going to start crying again. I was already weak enough in this moment. 

Sy stepped back around the car to where I was standing. He gently put his hands on my hips and pulled against him. He brought one hand up brushing the hair out of my face and resting it on my cheek. “I wish you could understand how wrong they are. I know you don’t not right now. But I’m gonna help you see yourself the way I do Sugar,” He didn’t hesitate any longer. He pressed us further against the car and leaned down pressing his lips to mine. His lips were soft and his body was warm against mine. He kissed me slowly and soft his beard tickling against my jaw. I snaked my hands around his neck pulling him closer. And I felt him smile against my lips. He pulled away slowly eyes fluttering open still holding me against him. “Baby you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that. I don’t know what other people have said to you. Or what you’ve been through. But when I tell you you’re beautiful I mean it. And when say I wanna take you home with me, it aint no joke baby. Do you trust me?” He askes staring down at me holding my face in his hands. 

“I trust you Logan, so much that is scares me.” I admitted. 

“I’d never hurt you like that Darlin’ that’s a promise.” I pulled him down and kissed him again. Harder this time. He groaned against my lips and squeezed my hip pulling me closer. He slid his hand into my hair holding me there as he started to gently suck on my bottom lip. We pulled away to catch our breath and had big goofy grin on his face as he leaned his forehead against mine.  “I’d love to do this all night baby,” He chuckled. “But its late and its only gonna get colder out here, I need to get you home.” I blushed. 

“Yeah, it’s almost midnight. We really should get going.” 

He  opened the passenger door of the truck for me and made sure I got in okay before he shut the door and got in on the other side. He started the truck and we pulled out of the parking lot. 

“Sy?” I spoke softy. 

“Yeah baby?” He looked over just for a second to let me know he was listening. 

“Did you mean it, when you said you wanted to take me home with you?” I asked. He literally snorted. 

“What do you think?” He smirked taking one hand of the wheel and resting it on my thigh. I could feel my heart rate speed up and I was blushing. How the hell was it so easy for him to turn me on?

“I want to.” I said. He looked like he was about to choke. 

“Yeah? You don’t have to Sugar, I didn’t mean… I mean I want you to. But I don’t want you to fee like I’m pressuring you or anything. Shit I ain’t even taken you out yet. Not really.” I grabbed his hand and squeezed it softly. 

“Logan, I really want to.” I said. He just smiled. 

“Alright, baby.” 

He drove us back to his place parking the truck in his drive way. “Right this way Darlin,” He smirked leading me up the front steps and unlocking the door. I followed him inside and he quickly shut the door behind him backing me up against it. “You really have no idea what your doing to me do you baby?” He licked his lips looking me up an down hungrily. I’d never seen him like this. The look in his eye was almost, animalistic. And it was so. Fucking. Hot. “Here I was thinking you were an innocent little thing.” He pinned my against the door holding me there in his hands. He leaned down crushing his lips against mine. This was different than the kisses we’d shared earlier , slow and sensual, this was hungry, needy. “Practically begging me to bring you home. You know how long I’ve been thinking about this? Getting you home with me? Under me? Fuck.” he breathed

He pulled me away from the wall and pulled at the bottom of his hoodie I was still wearing. I lited my arms and let him pull it over my head along with my shirt leaving them in a pile on the floor. We walked a little farther into the house. He pulled his shirt off tossing it next to us as he pulled me into his lap on the couch. I leaned back to admire his toned chest running my fingers throught the soft curls there. He slid his hand into my hair groaning into my mouth as he pulled me in for another kiss. He bit my bottom lip slowly dragging it between his teeth. He started. Peppering kisses down my jaw before leaving wet kisses along my neck. 

His hands were everywhere roaming over bra squeezing my breasts, running them down my sides and around grabbing my ass. I felt his hand move around my back plaing with the clasp of my bra. “Need this off baby.” He mumbled against my chest. He managed to undo it and I let it fall tossing it to the floor. “Mm fuck yes,” He moaned dipping his head down taking one of my nipples into his mouth and teasing the other with his thumb. I moaned and rolled my hips against his. I could feel his hard cock straining aginst his jeans. He groaned against me giving the other nipple attention. 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” He said stood from the couch picking me up and wrapping my legs around his waist. 

“Sy!” I Squealed. He carried me to his bedroom setting me on his bed. He crawled on top of me. His hands were already on the waist band of my leggings. 

“Is this okay,” He paused. I nodded eagerly and he chuckled. “Good girl.” He pulled them down swiftly with my panties leaving me completely bare infront of him. “Fucking beautful” he said as he starting kissng down my stomach. He nipped at my thigh leaving wet kisses there.  He pushed my legs open a little further and pulled me to the end of the bed. I was completely exposed to him but I didn’t care. I trusted him completely. He met my gazed and ran his and up my thigh before brushing his fingers through my folds. I moaned as his fingers brushed across my clit “God damn baby, all this for me? Fuckin soaked. “ He smirked He pressed his thumb to my clit rubbing in rough circles. 

“Fuck!” I moaned “Logan please!” I grabed his wrist the sensation already feeling overstimulating. It’s been so long. 

“We’ll get there baby.” He teased. Finally he kissed down my inner thigh and brushed his tongue against my clit.

“Oh my god!” I whimpered ran my fingers over his hair as he sucked on my clit. He slid two finger inside me pumping slowly. I squirmed against him but he used his other hand to hold my hips down. God he was so strong. 

“Keep still sugar. Don’t make me tell ya again,” He said before going back to work on my clit and curving his fingers in side me pumping them a little faster. I was seeing starts. I pushed his head down holding him there. 

“Oh my god, don’t stop!” I moaned. I came hard around his fingers and he slid them out and licked them clean. 

“Mm you taste so good baby. So fuckin’ sweet.” He stood up from the bed finally ridding himself of his jeans and boxers. His hard cock rested against his stomach. He was huge. I bit my lip and he chuckled. 

“I’ll go easy on you baby,” he said as he started crawling on top of me again.

“Mm wait,” He stopped raising an eye brow. I pushed him back against the pillows and kisses his lips softly. I kissed down his chest and finally settled between his legs. I bit my lip and looked up at him innocently “Just wanna taste it,”  He smirked. 

“Dirty little girl ain’t ya, mm” he pulled my hair back guiding me down. I licked the length of his cock. He groaned softly. I loved the sounds he made. So deep and almost feral. I finally took the tip in my mouth and slowly started to suck him off. I took him as far as I could letting him hit the back of my throat. He growled. “That’s it baby, good girl.” I kept bobbing my head on his cock and wrapped my and around the base where I couldn’t fit him in. I felt him tug on my hair and pull me up. “That feels amazing baby but I’m not gonna last if you keep that up.” 

He kissed me again and laid me down pulling leg over his shoulder. He ran the head of his cock up and down my folds getting it nice and wet. “You ready baby girl?” I nodded. He slowly pushed in. He held him self up bracing him self on one arm. He pushed in slow inch by inch letting me adjust to him. When he bottomed out he stayed there for a minute. “You okay baby?”

“Logan, it’s sweet that you’re asking but please fuck me.”  He let out a low growl and pulled almost all the way snapping his hips back into me. I moaned feeling him deep inside me. He grabbed my hip pulling me closer and kept thrusting into me. He moaned as he reached between us finding my clit with his thumb. The rythem of his thrusts and hitting just the right spot had me seeing stars. I came again around him moaning his name and other obscenities falling from my lips. “That’s it good girl.” He pulled out and flipped me over onto my stomach. He pushed back inside of me this new angle hitting that spot over and over again but I was so sensitive. 

“Come on baby, you got another one for me?” He growled against my ear. 

“Mm I can’t sy, It’s too much,” He reached around rubbing my clit in cirlces with his thumb.

“One more baby, please for me?” He picked up his pace hitting that spot over and over. I Moaned pulling at the sheets beneath me. 

“Fuck I’m cumming!” I moaned letting go around him

“That’s my good girl, cum on my cock.” His thrusts were becoming erratic and he stilled and groan cumming inside me. He kissed my shoulder and layed down beside me. He pulled out slowly and pulled me to lay on his chest. “Holy shit,” He breathed. He fingertips brushed up and down my back. He smiled down at me. “You’re incredible. I don’t deserve you.”

“Shut up Logan,” I blushed Hiding my face against his chest.

“I mean it, your too good for this world Darlin’,” He smiled and kissed my head. “I’m gonna marry you someday, I know I haven’t even really taken you on a date yet. But baby when you know, you know,” 

“Yeah?” I smiled  “I think I know what you mean.” He pulled the blankets up over us and held me for a while. 

“Good, now get some rest Darlin’” He said running his fingers through my hair. I smiled snuggling up against him. 

“Goodnight Sy,” I smiled. 

“Goodnight sugar.”

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt; weird Kryptonian bonding rituals.

“This just not how I expected to become a dad,” Lois mutters under her breath, putting her hands in her hair. “Seriously, I was going to get a Pulitzer first. How am I supposed to be a dad without a Pulitzer?!” 

“You were ever expecting to be a ‘dad’?” Jimmy asks, raising an eyebrow at her. Lois glares back at him. 

“You know what I mean, Jimmy!” she hisses. “A parent! Any kind of a parent!”

“What’s a Pulitzer?” Conner asks curiously. 

“The Pulitzer Prize!” Lois says, gesturing dramatically with both hands and starting to pace. “It’s one of the most distinguished awards in journalism! It’s been going since 1917! It’s a huge honor and a major achievement and–!”

“What’s it have to do with being a dad?” Conner interrupts, wrinkling his nose with a puzzled expression. Lois . . . pauses. 

“Um,” she says. 

“Probably nothing,” Jimmy says with a shrug. “Like. Almost definitely nothing.” 

“Then why’s it matter?” Conner asks, still looking puzzled. Lois puts both of her hands over her face. 

“Oh my god, I am my dad,” she says despairingly. “I think my career matters that much? Seriously?! Conner’s not gonna care if I have a Pulitzer or not if I’m a bad dad to get a Pulitzer! Oh my god, what am I doing with my life?!”

“Having a crisis, apparently,” Jimmy says. “And, like, some serious reprioritizing.” 

“I don’t think taking pride in your work is a ‘bad dad’ thing,” Clark says. Though having a kid is a reprioritizing-level situation, he thinks. Definitely when they’re a surprise kid. “That’s setting a good example for Conner, really. Just, you know . . . don’t ignore him to kidnap and illegally detain people because you think they might have something to do with a theoretical invasion, and I think you’ll probably be fine? Probably?” 

“Yeah, the invasion thing really seemed important to, like. Everybody who was working on me,” Conner says as he sneaks another honey bun. He’s adorable about it, so Clark doesn’t stop him. “They kinda suck, though, sooooo . . . I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you were gonna invade them a little. Just saying.” 

“No one’s doing any invading,” Clark says immediately, then feels awkward because, well, technically–“I mean, I don’t think anyone’s doing any invading. I’m not! I’m very much not doing any invading! Ever!”

“Are you sure?” Conner looks disappointed. 

“No alien invasions until you’re eighteen,” Lois says. “. . . or until we figure out how old you should count as being.”

Conner pouts. 

. . . they could probably invade just one dubiously-ethical lab, Clark thinks, if Conner really– 

“No, Clark,” Jimmy says. “I know that look, man. We don’t need any more angry government dudes or MIB-types after you, we’ve got enough of those already! Like, way too many!” 

“I think any is ‘too many’, in this case,” Lois says, looking sour.

[hotchfiles]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ [CHOICELESS HOPE] ❞ — three. need in the devotee.

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader. summ.: the moment leading up to the kiss, the drumroll, is as good as the kiss itself. it's certainly more innocent. it's completely harmless. cw: canon divergent. emotional cheating. right person wrong time. no use of y/n. wc: 1k+.

previously

    First cases were always an awkward matter, getting to know new people, having them wonder if you were nice or not and wondering the same thing about them. You thought maybe having Dave around would make it less clunky. Irrevocably wrong you were, as you had to explain the divorce from your cheating husband when he asked how the bastard was.

    Everytime you thought about your divorce it made something in your brain twitch, it had been finalized four years prior but it still hurt, and you got mad at yourself for being hurt, not only because it was a hit to your gut, your non trusting nature decided to trust this one man and he broke it so easily. But it hurt more as deep down you felt like you deserved it. Like it was your karma. 

    “I watched you speak about the importance of profiling for crisis negotiation once. You seemed very passionate about it, almost like Hotch–” You held in a sigh as the genius boy possibly every unit had heard of spoke. You were an expert. A leader in your field. It just happened that your field was the one Hotchner literally wrote the book about. You would have to deal with the comparison constantly now. “Why did you transfer?” 

    “Not the pay, that I can assure you.” That earned you your first group laugh, some of them looking over at Rossi, possibly understanding now why he looked so enthusiastic about your transfer, or because he was the one who mostly talked about the fact the pay was shit. 

    “She was the only one available with experience, and she was forced to.” Aaron clarifies from his seat on the jet, having thoroughly read your paperwork by now. You nod in confirmation, not caring that it wasn’t the best look to have been forced into their unit. It was yours first anyway.

    “Familiarity with the way Hotch works was a factor too, it seems.” Some things don’t come written on paper, only the influence of being one of the unit’s founders, like Dave, guaranteed that type of information, or at least you thought so, as that fact didn’t come to you as reasoning. Still, you wouldn’t lose the opportunity to tease Aaron, even if only a bit. 

    “Familiarity is a way to put it, huh? Most of his methodology was created with me.” Scoffing loudly was his response while he shook his head in disbelief, the rest of the team glancing from you to him in curiosity. 

    “Maybe write a book about it then.” Two hours into the first jet flight and you could possibly punch him in the face to get that little shit eating grin out of it. Or maybe kiss him. 

    “I thought working with you two together would make me feel young again. It doesn’t. I’m too old for this now.” Dave points to you both and looks back to the files, bringing the conversation back to the case in hand. 

    First two months he tries not to favor your presence, sending you off with Derek, Dave or Spencer to check crime scenes, talk to suspects, witnesses, but like magnets you two always ended up beside each other, too close, shoulders touching while reading files and completing each other’s thoughts for the profiles. 

    You do try to keep your distance as best as you can as well, favoring sitting alone on the jet, talking to Emily or losing to Reid at chess, bonding with the team was an important part of what made any work the best work possible. And it’s not as in better workplace, but better at the job.

    Connecting with the team made profiling better, faster, that was why you and Hotch were quick to make connections, quick to see holes, patterns, when you were together. 

    Still you catch his annoying glances that he makes no effort to conceal when you lock eyes with him, instead he smiles with his teeth and waits for you to look away. And you usually do. 

    Las Vegas being the final destiny though, you had your mind set on not looking away when he did his well known dance of glancing and waiting for you to look back, instead getting up to your feet and walking over to him, savoring the soft, almost shy smile he gave you as he took in your every move, from your seat to the one by his side.

    You take a spray bottle out of the pocket of your FBI jacket and hand him without a word, trying to ignore the way he makes it his job to linger the soft brush your fingers against his as he read the information. 

    “Sunscreen? You know I don’t–” 

    “Don’t like the feeling on your skin, yeah, that’s a spray one, not sticky, not liquidy and it dries out completely.” Aaron listens to you intently, but still has his suspicions, being shown clearly by the way he furrowed his brows even though his heart was skipping several beats by your actions. 

    “What about the smell?” He’s properly fiddling with the bottle as if he was a kid with a toy, taking the cap off and trying to smell it through the sprayer, you roll your eyes and extend your arm to him. 

    “It’s unscented, touch and smell my arm, I’m wearing it.” You’re not really thinking it through when you almost shove your forearm on his nose, he obliges it and takes a deep breath, you feel the air leaving his nose in your skin and get suddenly shy. 

    His cheeks flush in warm pink, the product might be unscented but your skin smells like… You. He could recognize it from a mile away. He thinks to himself for a second and realizes that maybe if sunscreens had your scent he wouldn’t mind using them. And when his fingers softly touch your wrist, getting hold of it to lower it down, he is reminded of how soft you feel so he has no choice but to drop it or else he would be holding onto it for as long as you’d let him.

[try-set-me-on-fire]

How about odd socks for the soft prompts?

Eddie tries to write his vows. Poem excerpts from E.E. Cummings’ [i carry your heart with me(i carry it in], Mary Oliver’s The Mango, and Pablo Neruda’s Finale. Plain text version on AO3 here and under the read more!

Dear Buck oh its not a letter

Buck

Evan Buckley (?)

From the day we met, I

I take thee to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part except I don’t want to stop loving you when either of us die. I don’t want to part. Till the glaciers have melted and the oceans have dried up, till Mount Whitney (the tallest mountain in California, I looked it up) is eroded to a molehill, till the heat death of the universe do us part. Maybe that will be enough time

I keep thinking about that time you wore those fucking socks to work and Bobby and everyone were trying to really gently asses if you were having a breakdown because we just see AND YOU’RE GOING TO DIE on your ankle and then you laughed and pulled up your pants and it said “GET LOST IN NATURE AND YOU’RE GOING TO DIE” which like I still think is kind of a fucked up thing to put on a sock but you just did one of your beautiful sunshine grins (we weren’t even together but god I still got light headed looking at you) and were like “I thought it would be neat to remind people the importance of safety in nature” and I was kind of teasing and annoyed and laughed about it and that was like three years ago Buck and I still feel guilty about it because if you were going through some kind of crisis I don’t ever want to be annoyed and laugh about it, I want to be there for you no matter what and I hope I’ve proven that to you over the years, that I don’t just love you on easy days, I love you every single day all the time even when everything’s fucked even if I can’t write wedding vows to save my life christ this is terrible

I love your nose and your birthmark and your eyebrows and your hair and your shoulders and the bends of your elbows, and your wrists and hands, and I love your nipples and hip bones and cock and ass and knees and your shin, I love the scars on your shin, I love every scar you have because none of them killed you

How about

i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

Or

But this was a rich house, and clever too.

After salmon and salads,

mangoes for everyone appeared on blue plates,

each one cut in half and scored

and shoved forward from its rind, like an orange flower,

cubist and juicy.

When I began to eat

things happened.

Or

your head on the pillow,

your hands floating

in the light, in my light,

over my earth.

It was beautiful to live

when you lived

The world is bluer and of the earth

at night, when I sleep

enormous, within your small hands.

Before the ceremony I told Shannon “It’s going to be okay” and in the moment I believed it because I had her and I was scared but she was my best friend and up there in front of her parents and mine I said the regular vows but I think that first one was what counted even if it didn’t end up being true. Maybe I’ve been telling you my vows for years. You can have my back any day. There’s no one on earth I trust with my son - with our son - more than you. Every time I tell you I love you, isn’t that a promise?

I’ve been happy before in my life, despite everything I don’t think I was an unhappy man, not always, only sometimes, but you make me happier than I thought was possible. That kind of feeling when you laugh too hard and you’re not getting enough oxygen to your brain. Isn’t that romantic, you give me hypoxia

Here’s the thing you know I’m going to get up there and just start crying immediately so I don’t know why I’m trying so hard to find words I won’t even be able to get out

No hi this is me two hours later of course this is important you’re important you knowing how much I love you is so important to me and I will stand up there blubbering at you for hours if that’s what it takes

I trust you. I love you. I am happy with you. I want to wake up beside you always, Buck I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than you next to me first thing in the morning (or night or afternoon or whenever we’ve finished sleeping), touching your warm body with your lungs breathing and your heart beating and the solidity of you feels like a miracle

I’ll buy you socks so your feet don’t get cold and I’ll bring you fruit because you like to eat sweet things and wherever I live will be your home and I’ll be by your side as long as you do me the honor of wanting me there and everything I have and am is yours and I

[inkdrinkerworld]

I have a request if they’re open! I’m think dealer!remus comforting autistic reader since she’s scared that Remus is one of her hyper-fixactions. Totally not projecting myself into this 🫣

some of my past relationships have just felt like hyper-fixations of mine so I feel like autistic reader may feel the same idk. What do you think? 💗💗💗

i can see this and i understand this and so this was born:

liking remus and laughing at his jokes and spending time with him starts to feel weird out of nowhere.

you’re at his apartment, legs in his lap, munching on some fruit he got when you said yes to coming over, when the inkling that he might be a hyper fixation pops up.

you’re learning everything about him, spending days on end with him, doing your favourite things and his and suddenly the crush you’d had on him feels like it’ll end the moment you say the inevitable, ‘i like you more than friends remus.’

all of a sudden, your chest feels tight with your lack of surety and you curse your brain for how it works.

you can’t stop looking at him and wondering what what moment exactly will your brain decide that whatever is being built is over and he’s no longer interesting.

remus turns to you, cutting your silent crisis short with a worried look.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, squeezing your heel where it rests on his thigh.

it’s hard to find the words to tell him because if it is a hyper fixation remus should know; but then if it isn’t you run the risk of telling him of your feelings prematurely.

“dove?” he sits up straight, hand holding onto your shin now.

“s-sorry, got lost in my head.” it’s not a whole lie.

remus doesn’t seem settled with the answer and takes the almost finished bowl of assorted fruit from you and sets it on his coffee table.

“anything you can talk about?” you’re grateful for the way he phrases it and that fact makes itself known when tears spring to your eyes.

you really hope he isn’t a hyper fixation. you’re not aware that your breathing is harsh and labored until remus tugs you into his lap.

“hey,” his thumb collects the tears on the apples of your cheeks and you shut your eyes not having the heart to continue looking at him “what’s the matter, dove? you’re scaring me.”

he is scared, terrified that somehow he’s ruined whatever you both have got going on and he doesn’t know.

he doesn’t know you’re just as terrified that your brain has built him up and is about to make him come crashing down and make you disgusted by him soon enough.

“i’m sorry for crying,” you say softly and remus sucks at his teeth.

“don’t be sorry for that dove. crying is good.”

there goes your heart, racing away with his easygoing, kind words.

“you can tell me anything, y’know that yeah?” you nod, letting the feeling of his thumb stroking your cheek help regulate you.

“i think my brain is playing tricks on me,” you say softly after a couple beats of silence.

remus frowns but doesn’t interrupt. he doesn’t want to set you off the course you’ve started.

“you know how sometimes you watch a show and there’s just something about it that makes you want to know everything about everything?” you open your eyes to catch his nod.

“i think my brain is doing that with you, but the part i’m scared about is after when i’ve learnt everything there is to know.”

“why? do you think you’ll know something you don’t want to?”

you huff a laugh and shake your head. “i’m afraid that when i know everything about you, my brain will decide that’s enough and i won’t want to know anything else about you again.”

remus coos and it makes more tears spring to your eyes. he pulls your forehead to press against his, noses brushing and if you weren’t crying you’d be hyper aware of how close you are.

“i can’t promise that won’t happen,” he says gently, thumb grounding you as it continues stroking your cheek.

“but, i can promise that even if your brain decides you’re done with me, i won’t hold it against you. and i’ll always be here for when your brain decides that it wants to know something again.”

your tears don’t stop and remus doesn’t try to stop them. he holds you till you cry every last bit of moisture from your body and he holds you some more when you fall asleep clinging to him on his sofa.

[miniwheat77]

Childhood trauma with 141 + König.

!CW! Abuse, trauma, neglect, lasting issues from a bad childhood, (sorry if I miss any.)

König:

König didn’t realize your behavior was out of the ordinary until the military forced him to go to behavioral classes. They went over all kinds of topics. The childhood trauma topic is what really made him perk up. König noticed this small thing with you pretty much immediately after you’d begun dating. While you were awake, you were normal. Casual, hugs and small kisses when nobody was looking, but when you were sleepy, or asleep. You cling to him. Like your life depends on it. You’re a bit of a crazy sleeper, so sometimes you’ll have a hold of some random part of his body. Like his foot, or his leg. But it’s usually his arm. Sometimes you’ll even hold his hand while you’re asleep. He always thought it was really sweet until he seen that video.

The first thing he did upon returning was cornering you to ask you. “Liebling, can I talk to you?” He mumbles. You nod your head with a smile. He walks toward you, thankful this was able to happen while the both of you were home from the military. “They spoke about childhood trauma today.” He mumbles. You nod your head, blood running cold. You knew what he was going to ask. “And.. the way you cling to me in your sleep. Is there something you’re not telling me?” He asks. You release a defeated sigh. “It’s nothing that important.. it’s just.” You pause. “When I was a kid, my dad wasn’t all that nice and my mom slept in my room because he wouldn’t hit her when I was around. I always fell asleep holding onto her for safety and comfort, and… I fell asleep holding onto her one night and when I woke up, she was gone. That was when I was 5. I never seen her again.” You look down. König feels his heart break. Grasping your wrist and pulling you into him to hug you tightly. “Ich werde dich nie alleine lassen” he whispers it into your ear and he can feel you relaxing into him. “I love that you hold onto me. I will keep you safe.” He breathes. Feeling you tighten your grasp around him.

Ghost:

Ghost could pick up on trauma pretty easily because he had a lot of his own trauma responses. You always talked a lot about how you seemed to have a pretty good childhood for the most part, but you did something that made him wonder what actually happened during your childhood. The first fight the both of you had shared was pretty brutal. A lot of hurtful words were spoken and when Ghost came to you to apologize the following day, you wouldn’t say it back. No matter what, you wouldn’t apologize for anything. Ghost took everything you said with a grain of salt, but he secretly hated that you wouldn’t apologize when you said hurtful things. After a particular fight, he seen a certain look in your eyes. He seen the pain in them. You didn’t like saying hurtful things. But he could tell this is what you were used to. For some reason, you believe it was fight, never flight. During one particular night in with him, the both of you laying comfortably in your shared bed, he decided to bring it up.

“Why don’t you ever say sorry?” He asks. You turn to look at him. Sending him a weird look. “What?” You ask. You’re completely confused. “You know.. sometimes when we fight and I apologize, you never do.” You look confused. “Oh.. I didn’t realize I did that.” You laugh awkwardly. “I’m sorry Ghost. I just.. it’s a bad habit that my family had when I was growing up.” Your cheeks are red, and he can see that you feel bad. “It’s okay.” He slides his hand along your hip and pulls you into him. “We’re going to work on everything together so that you’re comfortable. You help me get over my identity crisis, I help you learn empathy.” He laughs. You look up at him. “I think as long as we have each other, the rest will be easy.” You laugh. “I think so too. I’m sorry that your parents never apologized to you.” He breathes. “It’s okay. I can fix that, but I can’t fix what I say to hurt you.” You breathe. He rolls his eyes. “I’ll be just fine sweetheart. We have each other now.”

Captain Price:

Before the two of you started a relationship, he caught on to something pretty quickly. You dropped a piece of paper during a meeting, and Captain Price picked it up, handing it to you. You flinched when he held it out for you. Trying to play it off and thanking him. Anytime he’d reach his hand out for something, you’d flinch away from him. He picked up on a few more signs here and there, when everyone else would go home, you’d always stay back. Saying you’ll keep an eye on the base for everyone. It was during a family gathering the task force had, a dinner to invite families to, where Captain Price seen it. He met your father, shook his hand. Through the entire night, he noticed the way you’d flinch under any slight movement he made. At the end of the night, Captain Price told him to leave, and that he wasn’t welcome anymore. You were surprised and so was your father. Captain Price had no idea about your past.

That was the night you opened up to him about everything. The abuse, how you joined the military to escape from it. Tried everything to make your father proud but it never worked. You spent the entire night laid up in bed with Captain Price, and that’s when you confessed your feelings for one another. Under the sheets, no clothing. He stared at you, perfect toned body, lower half hidden underneath silk sheets. He caressed your cheek, reassuring you. He had himself propped up as he looked at you. Hair sprawled across his pillows. “You didn’t deserve that. And I would never raise my hand at you, not ever. And I won’t let anyone else hurt you. Never again.” He mumbles, leaning down to press his lips to your forehead. Tears welled in your eyes and you smiled up at him. Having to explain this is the first time a man has ever been kind to you. It broke him inside. It really did. But he’d always be there for you. For every step of the healing process. No matter what. After that night, he was different around you. Way more protective. Anytime you flinched for any reason, he pulled you into his side, or pulled you behind him during drills when you were uncomfortable. He always did his very best to make sure you were comfortable, and you couldn’t be more thankful for that.

Soap:

Soap noticed that you were able to memorize a lot of things about the others on base. It started with their tone of voice, you’d joke about your Captains tone of voice. Laughing and saying he seemed pissed about something. You could tell just by the tone of voice what kind of mood they were in, and Soap found it odd because he couldn’t tell. When the two of you started sneaking around together, during the night when you heard footsteps passing your room, he would tense up and you would reassure him. Saying “it’s just Ghost, don’t worry.” Of course he’d ask how you knew, and you’d say by the sound of the footsteps. Eventually he caught on too. He ended up coming across a video online about common trauma responses in adults from their childhood and that was a big one. He wondered what had gone on in your childhood for you to develop a response like that. Sometimes when you heard specific footsteps, you’d tense up, or scramble to get rid of whatever you’re doing.

During one night when you were with Soap, he decided to ask about it. You were sitting at your desk and he was laying in your bed. “Sorry to interrupt your work lass, but I have a question.” He mumbles, sitting up on your bed. “Yeah what’s up?” You turn to him. Spinning in the chair. “Well.. you know how you memorize certain things?” He asks. You look at him confused. “Like footsteps? Or a tone of voice?” He asks. “Yeah?” He nods his head. You’re following him. “I read online that that’s a common trauma response. Were your parents mean to you when you were a kid?” He asks. You smile. “I wouldn’t say mean. Just strict. I memorized their footsteps so that if I was up to no good or needed to hide something, I knew who it was. And I could usually tell by their footsteps if they were coming to yell at me, and I could tell by their tone of voice if they were mad or not so that I could avoid them.” You explain. He nods his head. It’s almost as if it’s clicking in your own head as the realization washes over your face. He reaches out, grasping the chair and sliding you toward him. “Nothing to worry about now, I’ve got you. If anyone treats you like that, they’ll have to face me.” He pulls you into him, kissing you. 

Gaz:

You and Gaz started out as really good friends. Somehow you were always paired with him on missions and you got along with him really nicely. During one mission, you and Gaz had gotten stuck somewhere for a couple days, and took turns taking watch. While you were asleep, Gaz accidentally slammed a door shut, and you jolted awake. Looking around in a panic. He reassured you that it was just him, and that it was an accident. He assumed it was just the mode you were in from being in the military. But you had this habit anywhere you were, and it was only certain noises. Doors slamming, glass breaking, heavy footsteps. Gunfire and bombs never seemed to bother you, and that’s where Gaz was confused. You slept like a rock through gunfire. You might wake up here and there from a bomb, but never like you had that night when he accidentally slammed the door. When the two of you ended up together, he noticed small signs more and more and one night as he went to fall asleep, he put two and two together.

He corners you one night on watch, and asks you. With a sigh, you confess that your parents fought a lot when you were a kid, and you could tell your dad was home because of the door slamming and heavy footsteps and when they’d fight, your mom would break dishes and throw stuff. Sometimes when they took their anger out on you, your door would open and you’d wake up immediately. Gaz comforted you and reassured you, obviously. But he knew it would take time for you to feel better. That same night, he was laying next to you. He’d snuck into your room and you had fallen asleep a few minutes earlier. The sound of a door slamming shut outside had you awake in a panic. Gaz reached a hand out, caressing your arm. “Hey, it’s just one of the others. Relax.” He mumbles. You nod your head, laying back down. He pulls you into him, running a soothing hand through your hair in an attempt to calm your racing heart. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore. I’ve got you now.” He mumbles. You relax almost immediately, falling back asleep. He needed to sneak back to his room soon, but he just can’t yet. He hates leaving you alone to worry. He hates seeing you like that. Something so small throwing you into such a panic. But he’ll always be there to calm you.

[centrally-unplanned]

The Clarkesworld AI Spam issue is one of those stories that to me really highlights the limits of the tools that hype is obscuring. Clarkesworld is a well-established Sci-Fi publishing magazine that today had to suspend all of its submissions due to being overwhelmed by ChatGPT generated entries:

This inspired a lot of discourse around the idea of a ‘crisis of credibility’ on the internet, AI sweeping away the boundries of authenticity in a flood of forgeries. How can magazines even operate in this new environment, one might ask?

Which is weird because this environment isn’t new at all, as the editor, Neil Clarke, comments on in his blog post around the problem:

Since the early days of the pandemic, I’ve observed an increase in the number of spammy submissions to Clarkesworld. What I mean by that is that there’s an honest interest in being published, but not in having to do the actual work. Up until recently, these were almost entirely cases of  plagiarism, first by replacing the author’s name and then later by use of programs designed to “make it your own.”

The issue isn’t that spam exists, its the quantity:

This is undoubtably a gigantic spike, and 100% it is induced by ChatGPT.

But hold on - is ChatGPT actually *better* at this that previous spam tools? Niel doesn’t think so, even if he is worried about the future: 

I’m not going to detail how I know these stories are “AI” spam or outline any of the data I have collected from these submissions. There are some very obvious patterns and I have no intention of helping those people become less likely to be caught...

... What I can say is that the number of spam submissions resulting in bans has hit 38% this month. While rejecting and banning these submissions has been simple, it’s growing at a rate that will necessitate changes. To make matters worse, the technology is only going to get better, so detection will become more challenging.

And how expensive was the plagarism before to do anyway? It was copy-pasting text, automated word replacement programs, and done, that is trivial. Its a little harder than ChatGPT, sure, but you could make a thousand in a day no sweat, automated scripts randomizing names and jumbling nouns from a list. 

The success rate also seems to be zero! Neither plagarism nor ChatGPT generates any story worth a damn, these aren’t being accepted. Neil is quite confident he is catching 100% of them and I believe him on that, these tools cannot write good fiction of any length beyond a paragraph. 

So what is the ChatGPT’s advantage over previous, ‘dumber’ spam that justifies a 100-fold increase in spam usage? I am not seeing one, and I don’t think there is one besides marginally lower per-spam costs. Phrased another way, what was stopping someone from submitted 500 spam entries in one month in 2021? Nothing but interest in doing so.

Which is the rub of why this is happening - it isn’t because ChatGPT is good at this task, its because its the hype thing to do. Everyone is talking about it, everyone is trying it out, everyone is trying to find “delta” so they can ride the hype train. A bunch of people, some who may have even had axes to grind against Clarkesworld, have heard of this brand new fun tool and are flooding into the market to take advantage of it. But there might not be much to take advantage of; hype is fleeting, particularly in the face of no results as this effort is getting. As it fails, unless that axe really needs grinding above all else, spammers will move.

All of this to say that this story is, again, not a story about AI at all. AI is just the reason these already-bad parts of the system are being tested in the public eye.

[augiewrites]

"secret admirer" - dead poets society (part 5)

summary: y/n receives a curious invitation from meeks and has a surprise encounter with neil and todd

pairing: anonymous!dead poet x gender neutral reader

word count: 1.2k

previous | next

It was finally Friday, and Y/N was looking forward to spending the weekend recovering from a week of non-stop exams, cramming, and a nonexistent sleep schedule. The morning’s classes had been a drag so far, and they were looking forward to the reprieve of Keating’s class. Knowing they'd be in close proximity to their admirer aside, Keating’s class gave them an opportunity to activate another part of their brain—one concerned less with grades and formulas.

No, this part was more concerned with matters of feeling. Matters of love, art, expression—everything crucial to finding true meaning in life.

Meaning.

Something that Y/N’s life—and the students of Welton’s lives—was severely lacking.

Y/N shoved the existential crisis to the back of their mind, shooting Todd a smile as he occupied the desk at the front of the class.

Their desk compartment was empty aside from their textbook and notes. Y/N felt their heart drop. It had been empty for days.

Did I make a mistake leaving that poem?

Y/N did their best to not look disappointed. The only thing more embarrassing than their poet’s lack of response was the thought of him observing their discontent.

Keating’s class didn't give them much reprieve that day.

_________________________________________ 

Against their better judgment, Y/N found themselves in the library during common hour. In all truth, Y/N just wanted to go back to their dorm and bang their head against the wall until they fell asleep. Alas, the expectation of a 4.0 GPA was looming over their head.

Thankfully, Meeks was the only other person to show up. Y/N didn't think they had the strength to deal with Dalton.

“So are you just going to keep side eyeing me, or do you have something to say?” Y/N set down their pencil and turned to face Meeks.

“Y/N, you've sighed three times within the last minute,” Meeks quipped, "seems like you're the one with something to say."

“But I'm right, though. You have something you want to say."

“I'll share with the class if you will.”

The two stared at each other for a moment—Meeks' expression much lighter compared to Y/N’s frustrated features.

Y/N gave in first.

“I’m tired, Meeks."

“Of?..."

“Everything.”

“You’re going to have to give me a little more here, Y/N.”

“…”

"I'm waiting."

“My GPA dropped to a 3.7," Y/N’s gaze was fixed to the table, “my parents are not happy. I feel like all I ever do is try, but it's not enough, and it never will be. My social life is practically nonexistent, I don't remember the last time I had fun, and I can feel my spirit dying. Some days it feels like I'm dying."

“You’re more than your grades, Y/N. You have to know that."

“I know that, Meeks. They don't,” Y/N let out a bitter laugh, “they ship me off to this prison, don't let me come home for breaks, and they call me maybe twice a semester if I'm lucky. They see my grades more than they ever see me."

Meeks was silent for a beat as Y/N cradled their head in their hands.

“Tomorrow night. Meet me outside the East wing at 10PM.”

“Meeks, what are you—“

“Just trust me. If you care about your spirit, anyway."

“Fine,” Y/N began packing their bag and stood up, nodding absentmindedly, "yeah, okay."

Because everything was cosmically determined to go wrong, Y/N crashed into Charlie as they rounded the corner out of the library. Their armload of textbooks crashed to the floor.

“Don’t you know to look both ways before crossing the street?" Charlie joked as he knelt to pick up Y/N’s books.

Y/N kept their head down as they gathered the mess of note paper that exploded out of their trig book.

“I mean, really, Y/N. If you want to feel me up you don't need to be so aggressive about it—“

Charlie’s sly smile melted into concern when he noticed the tears in Y/N’s eyes.

"Hey, are you okay, Y/N?” Charlie passed the books to Y/N and placed a gentle hand on their upper am.

Y/N gave the boy a tight lipped smile and stepped away from his touch.

“I'm fine, Dalton," Y/N was already moving down the hall.

“Y/N—“

“If you're looking for Meeks, he's still in there."

Y/N disappeared around the corner, leaving Charlie staring at the space they just occupied.

_________________________________________

Y/N wasn’t one for skipping class, but it was the last period of the day and Y/N thought their head would explode if they didn’t get away from everyone as soon as possible.

They triple checked that the hallway was empty before rushing into the storage room filled with students’ empty luggage.

But the room wasn’t unoccupied like they expected.

Neil Perry and Todd Anderson were in the middle of the room, locked in a gentle embrace.

They jumped apart when they heard Y/N’s soft sound of surprise, and the trio looked at each other in shock for a beat.

“We were just—” Neil took a step away from Todd before the other boy cut him off, surprising everyone, seemingly including himself.

“We’re together.”

They all stared at each other for another moment before Neil stepped forward again.

“You can’t tell anyone, Y/N.”

“I won’t,” Y/N blinked, suddenly coming alive again, “I would never.”

Relief washed over the two boys. Todd was more red than Y/N thought was humanly possible.

“Okay, I’m just gonna,” Y/N took a step back and jerked a thumb over their shoulder at the door, “go…”

They turned quickly to leave.

“Y/N.” Neil’s hand enclosed their wrist as they reached for the doorknob.

They looked up into Neil’s soft gaze, a faint smile on his face, “thank you.”

“Of course,” they returned the smile and waved to Todd as they slipped out the door, rushing to their dorm to avoid being caught for truancy.

_________________________________________

Y/N had been laying in bed for all of fifteen minutes before they heard the familiar sound of paper sliding under the door.

They were out of bed and rushing to open the door before they could think twice. Truancy be damned.

The empty hallway mocked Y/N.

Frustrated tears welled in their eyes as they slammed the door and grabbed the envelope off the floor before ripping it open.

Beloved Y/N,

In your eyes, a storm silently brews, Emotional tempest, tears it strews. I stand close, a silent observer, Love entangled in your pain, a fervent preserver.

Your hurt, a whisper in the quiet air, A shared burden, a weight to bear. In the shadows, love stands strong, A balm for wounds, a solace lifelong.

In the heart's tempest, emotions entwine, Love persists, a steadfast lifeline. I may not heal all that pains your soul, But together, in love, we find a way to be whole.

x, Yours.

Y/N let the tears flow freely as they sunk down onto the bed.

They were certain of who wasn’t their poet, but they were in denial about who it could be.

~~~

part six

a/n: any reality where neil and todd aren't in love is a crime against nature

taglist: @vvnbxz @edb954

[peterpparkrr]

Banter (ch. 1)

Series: Banter

Pairing: Roy Kent x f!Reader

Summary: You and Roy Kent do not get along. But your mysterious Bantr match on the other hand…

A/N: SEASON 3! SEASON 3! Ted Lasso is the only thing holding my sanity together so I figured I might as well write for it. Enjoy! 

(Ch. 2) (Ch. 3) (Ch. 4) (Ch. 5)

series masterlist

Shutterbug: Do you ever feel like no one really knows you?

SirSwears-a-Lot: Yes. Most of the people I interact with are fucking idiots.

SirSwears-a-Lot: Has something prompted this existential crisis?

Shutterbug: My friends. And work. Everything.

SirSwears-a-Lot: It's hard to be vulnerable with people. 

SirSwears-a-Lot: In the effort to respond to honesty with honesty, I’ve recently been struggling with the question: What the hell am I doing?

Shutterbug: I’m about to start a new job and I’m questioning every decision I’ve ever made.

SirSwears-a-Lot: Same.

You were trying to navigate your way through the AFC Richmond building when you spotted a familiar blonde ponytail down the hallway.

“Keeley!”

Keeley squealed your name when she turned around to see you. 

“EEEEEE! I’m so excited that you’re here!” She shouted as she ran toward you at full speed before launching herself at you, wrapping her arms around your neck tightly as you spin her in a little circle.

To this day you weren’t sure how you’d ended up being best friends with Keeley Jones. 

You’d met on a commercial set when you were an assistant to the photographer and Keeley as the talent for the shoot had charmed your pants off. 

Not literally. You two didn’t have that kind of relationship. No matter how often Keeley joked about wanting to shag you. 

But Keeley’s uncanny ability to befriend anyone and everyone she met had worked on you. Despite being the model-slash-acress-social media star at the center of the commercial she took the time to ask you your name, understand what your job was, and pepper you with personal and ranndom questions.

And as an unmoored creative professional in London, you’d latched onto Keeley as a familiar face in the circles you both ran in (Well, circles that Keeley ran in and you sort of loitered on the outskirts of with your camera). 

And when the two of you’d walked in on her boyfriend at the time shagging the executive for the brand you two were working on the shoot for, she’d slapped him clear across the face (the boyfriend, not the executive, you both wanted to continue working). And you’d let her move in with you until she could figure out what she was going to do next.

It had bonded you together for life. 

Which is how she’d managed to rope you into taking AFC Richmond’s promo photos despite your strong anti-sport stance. 

You were easily swayed by the Keeley Jones pout. And the promise of a well-paying job.

“Ted! Roy! This is my friend-slash-photographer-extraordinaire,” Keeley called out to two men in Richmond jackets that made their way over to you, introducing you all to each other. They both looked a little too old to be players so you assumed they were coaches. “She’s going to be the photographer for the promo shoot tomorrow.” 

“Nice to meet you, I’m excited to work with the team,” You tell them as you reach out to shake their hands. 

“Pleasure to meet an old pal of Keeley’s,” The one with the mustache, Ted, replies as he shakes your hand eagerly.

“Oh! You’re American!” You exclaim in surprise.

“Yes, we are,” Ted replies with a small chuckle. “But I promise we have nothing but the utmost respect for the game y’all call football.”

“I’m not really a football fan to be honest,” You admit with a shrug. 

You don’t necessarily have anything against the game itself. But the fact that the world pours billions of dollars into an industry built around boys kicking balls around seems silly to you. Especially considering the way some fans of the game react – hooliganism, riots, bar fights, increased rates of domestic violence after matches – it all seems like a waste.

“Roy! this is the photographer for the shoot tomorrow,” Keeley tells a man with a head of dark curls and a deep frown etched into his stubble.

You can’t help but give him the once over. It’s part of the artistic nature of your work, you’re always scanning people for their best angles, natural beauty, etcetera, that you might want to work with when you’re shooting.

And he’s pretty. In that gruff, grumpy mountain man kind of way.

“Nice to meet you,” You greet him with a smile as you hold out your hand to him. “Are you a player?”

“Do I look like I’m a fucking player?” He grumbles at you before he pushed between you and Keeley and walks into the locker room. 

“Excuse me?!” You shout after him, completely taken aback by the rudeness you’d just been faced with.

“You’ll have to excuse Roy,” Keeley tells you with an apologetic smile.  “He wakes up on the wrong side of the bed, well, every morning.” 

“Right,” You reply with a glance over your shoulder in the direction he stalked off to. 

“Since he’s not a player at least I don’t have to work with him,” You add with a halfhearted smile. Trying to play the optimist for the sake of your professionality.

Keeley’s eyes widen slightly when you say that and what smile you had managed drops off your face completely.

“Um…” She mutters.

“What?” You groan.

“He’s one of the other coaches,” Keeley tells you apologetically as she purses her lips at you.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” You grumble. 

“Fucking dick,” You mutter under your breath as Keeley leads you down the hallway, explaining what the team owner, Rebecca Welton, is looking for brand-wise from these promotional photos.

Shutterbug: Why are men such assholes?

SirSwears-a-Lot: I feel like you’re expecting me to defend my gender but I honestly can’t.

SirSwears-a-Lot: Men are pricks.

Shutterbug: Agreed. This guy I met for part of my new job was a complete and total dick to me today for absolutely no reason. If I didn’t like getting paid I would have gone full psycho bitch on his ass. See how he liked that.

SirSwears-a-Lot: I would pay good money to see that.

Shutterbug: I did meet another guy at this job today who was actually a really nice guy, like unnaturally nice.

Shutterbug: And you’re nice. 

Shutterbug: So I guess #NotAllMen.

SirSwears-a-Lot: I’m not nice.

Shutterbug: Yeah, you are. 

Shutterbug: You let your niece help you come up with your dating app profile.

Shutterbug: And if you weren’t a nice guy you wouldn’t let me complain to you all the time.

SirSwears-a-Lot: I complain back to you so it’s really an even exchange. Plus most of your stories are hilarious.

Shutterbug: Well, I do usually like my work.

Shutterbug: But my pro tip of the day: don’t work with athletes. 

SirSwears-a-Lot: Noted.

“Hiya,” Ted greets you as you stand in the middle of the locker room on your phone.

You’re so engrossed in your text argument with Bantr boy about whether or not pineapple belongs on pizza that you jump slightly at the sudden noise.

“Ope, sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya,” Ted apologizes. 

“Oh, it’s fine, I just got wrapped up in a text conversation,” You tell him with a shrug as you tuck your phone back into your pocket and smile back at Ted. 

“Boyfriend? Girlfriend?” Ted asks curiously.

“Just a guy,” You tell him.

Ted nods for you to continue. Something you’ve almost never had someone, especially not a guy do to you in a professional context.

“Well, I’m on Keeley’s app. I figure at least one of us deserves to have success. Even if it’s professional and not personal.”

“You’re a good friend,” Ted interjects.

“And I have been flirting with one guy who’s actually funny. And intelligent. It probably won’t go anywhere but it’s fun to have someone to chat with who doesn’t know who I am.”

“I can’t say I understand the appeal of that sort of anonymity, what if you’re chatting with a serial killer? Or a homophobe? Or someone who hates pizza?” Ted replies. “But then again, I’m not young and hip.”

“It’s a valid perspective,” You reply with a nod. “I’m honestly not even sure if he would like me. If we ever met, I mean, I don’t know if I’m his type.”

“Well, you’re an absolute delight, I can’t imagine a single guy who wouldn’t like you, unless he hates, I don’t know, happiness and joy,” Ted tells you.

“Thanks, Ted,” You reply.

“Anything else I can help ya with?” Ted asks as he slaps his hands down on his thighs. “Got any of those big heavy lights you need moved around?”

“The lights actually aren’t that heavy,” You tell him with a burst of laughter. “I think I’m just about set up here. Just waiting on your team and then we can get started.”

Shutterbug: What’s your type?

SirSwears-a-Lot: Why do you ask?

Shutterbug: Maybe I’m getting plastic surgery so that I can look like it.

SirSwears-a-Lot: Whatever you look like, you’re my type.

SirSwears-a-Lot: Unless you’re actually my boss catfishing me.

SirSwears-a-Lot: In which case, fuck you.

Shutterbug:  Damn. You’ve caught me!

You couldn’t wait for this job to be over.

The team was actually easy. Other than a few players who tried to tell you about their best angles (Jamie Tartt had insisted that you needed to only shoot him from the left and seemed unable to not smolder during the shoot which was… an interesting choice), the solo shots of the players had been a breeze.

But these coaches were a whole different beast. 

Ted was happy, almost eager to take your direction. 

But the other three?

Coach Beard hardly spoke during the entire interaction and refused to smile but his pictures came out fairly decent. 

Nathan Shelley was so nervous and fidgety it took you ages to take the photos because he kept breaking the poses to ask you if he was doing alright.

Roy Kent was impossible.

“You have to stay in the pose,” You grumbled as you pushed past your lighting rig to re-adjust Roy for what felt like the hundredth time this afternoon to. 

“I feel fucking stupid in the pose,” Roy grumbled in response.

“Well, you look stupid when you don’t do it,” You shot back.

“Just listen to the nice lady, Roy,” Ted called out, causing a few of the others to chuckle. 

Something of a crowd had formed to watch the entire process. Some of the players who were done with training and the rest of the coaches were standing around watching now that their photos were over and you could tell that Roy hated having an audience.

“Shut up!” Roy shouted at them.

You groaned as he broke the angle again.

“Alright, everyone out!” You shout once you’ve finally lost your patience. You shoo at the men. “Everyone!”

Once it was just you and Roy in the room you turned back to him.

“The sooner you do what I tell you to do. The sooner this is all over,” You tell him. “You’re handsome, I don’t understand why you hate getting your photo taken so much.”

Roy didn’t reply with words, he simply grunted at you as you stepped towards him and lifted your hand to gently tilt his face back to the direction you wanted him to face before stepping away.

“There,” You said a minute later once you’d gotten all the shots you would need. “That wasn’t so painful, now was it?”

“Yeah,” Roy grunted again as he pushed through your set-up and disappeared back into the coaches' office. 

You watched him leave with a puff of mild annoyance before you realized that meant that today’s shoot was over and hurried to back up your things.

Shutterbug: Would you ever want to meet up?

You’d gotten to the restaurant too early. After you’d sent that message you’d thrown your phone across the room and tried not to panic. 

When you’d finally built up the courage to retrieve your phone you saw that he’d already messaged you back,

SirSwears-a-Lot: Yes.

SirSwears-a-Lot: Friday night? Bacco’s, 7 pm?

You grinned at your phone for a moment before typing your response.

Shutterbug: See you then :)

And you’d been riding on cloud nine for the last few days. You hadn’t told anyone about the date. Not even Keeley. No matter how hopeful you were about this working out, you hated the thought of getting someone else's hopes up so you decided to keep it a secret. 

Just until after the date.

But it also meant that you’d finished up the day’s shoot, gone home to get ready, and somehow ended up at the restaurant thirty minutes before your reservation. So you were standing in the waiting area, trying not to look too pathetic while you scrolled through Instagram.

Every time you heard the door open your eyes would flicker up only to be met with the view of a sweet elderly couple or a group of business partners making their way through the door. 

Until you heard to door open and looked up to lock eyes with Roy Kent. 

Your eyes widened before you offered him a sarcastic smile. 

“I’m waiting for someone,” You tell him in lieu of a greeting.

“Me too,” He replies gruffly.

“Good for you,” You reply with a furrow of your brows.

“Yeah.” 

You roll your eyes and look back down at your phone, tapping out a quick message to let him know you’re here. You hit send just as your phone pings with a similar text from him. 

You look up to scan the room again just as Roy’s phone buzzes and your eyes lock as you realize that you’re the only two people in the waiting area. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” You groan.

“Fuck,” Roy mutters.

[jymwahuwu]

Okay but what about Jing Yuan and his personal assistant… like… a secretary kinda. He’s always trying to call you away to come to his office so he can just chat with you. Sometimes these ‘chats’ become him dropping hints about how cute you look in your skirt, or blouse… and how he wants to take you out on dates after hours.

I imagine a scenario where after your shift is over, you’re getting ready to leave, and Jing Yuan stops you. He says you don’t have to worry about going home because… and drum roll please- tada! You’re gonna go home with him instead because he just can’t handle another lonely night by himself.

But also I’m eating up your Jing Yuan text/call stories you’re doing. Maybe he just calls you, tells you to meet him at the office because it’s urgent- and when you get there he’s leaned back in his chair with candles (because he really is a romantic at heart) and wine and tells you that he wanted to have dinner with you.

Thanks for your time! - 🔮

TW: yandere, harassment

The position you applied for was obviously not the general's personal assistant, but in the end you were assigned to serve General Jing Yuan. This job is like walking on ice for you, it's not that the general is harsh, it's just that he… seems to have some kind of attachment to you?

There is an office for you in Seat of Divine Foresight, but it is basically useless, because the general often asks you to meet in his office, and you have to stay all afternoon. He tells you to do things while commenting on your everyday look, hinting at how cute and suitable that dress/blouse is for you. He even gives you a fee for the clothes, ostensibly to subsidize the cost of fitting the assistant's work clothes, actually out of his bank account. You follow his advice…but the skirt keeps getting shorter and shorter, its length running from your calf to your knee and finally your thigh. As packs and cleans his office, your panties are inadvertently exposed. Also, your clothes have to reveal a little bit of your breasts. He insists on buying you dinner because you've worked all day. Hey, he's always been so nice to his staff!

Your refusal is useless. He still puts you on the spaceship and to the restaurant, and maybe back to his house. The night is too long for long-life species, there is Yanqing as a son at home but not enough, he uses some excuses to ask you to spend the night at his house. Sure, you said you were going to sleep in another room, but you might wake up in the general's arms :))

And that emergency lmao He has been planning to solve the crisis in Xianzhou, and you have witnessed the general's resourcefulness. Perhaps during a rare vacation, you received a call from the general. He tells you that there is an emergency and that you must go to the Seat of Divine Foresight. However, you arrive to find that there are no other employees - they've apparently all gone home. Jing Yuan is sitting in the office, preparing a candlelight dinner. No matter what your reaction is, he's ready to take you home after dinner, touch you, give you little kisses. That's his idea of a perfect date!

[tiredofthehumanlife]

A happy home (realizations pt 2)

Title looks like a Midwest emo song name dude 🙏give me strength

Barbie dolls: Jegulus x reader (James, Regulus, Your punk ass).

Words: 2.4k ish

Summary: Reggie is all like muh I don’t deserve love I’m just a poor peasant boy then he’s all like muh i should ignore all my friends bc I’m just a poor boy from the bourgeoisie and then you and James are like no 🥺 pookie and then hilarity ensues

Warnings: it's kinda angsty but it ends happy trust, mentions of panic attacks, mentions of Remus' dick, Harry Potter possibly mentioned, James has a mustache for about three sentences, regulus is all emo, its alright guys first one waa better ngl

Pt 1

After you and James used the classic kiss & run technique on Regulus, his mind was swamped with questions. Baby Black was having yet another crisis. Barty and Pandora had started a tally board marking up all his catastrophes. He was somewhere around the double digits at this point. Regulus wanted love, as any poor emo poetry loving teenager, but he felt he didn’t deserve love. He wanted. He wanted so much. Regulus wanted a house with a screeching screen door. He wanted a wrap around porch. He wanted beautiful tiles in his bathroom. He wanted nick nacks. A cluttered home is a house full of love and life. He wanted color in his home. Regulus’ parents’ house (attention to house not home) was cold. Regulus wanted a home. He thought of it frequently, planning the decor and colors. He would go to his little home in his head for comfort. After panic attacks he found himself pressed into a rocking chair, sitting on his wrap around porch and staring out at the beautiful garden in the backyard. His book open in his lap, his favorite pen between his fingers, tracing over his initials. Next to his chair was a small table with a mug full of his favorite tea.

With the more time he spent with you and James, he felt his fantasy home adapt. Suddenly when he visited he found your sweater flung over the back of his couch, James’ pictures on the wall. Which he could accept. Friends left their things at each others’ homes all the time. Friends made it onto each other’s walls frequently. He could handle your friendship infiltrating his home. Regulus appreciated you both no matter how much he threatened to kill you. It was his love language.

Regulus seemed to pull away. Suddenly you never saw him in the library, he didn't appear next to you, he didn't even hang out with Sirius and the others. He was actively avoiding you both. You tried to pretend you were wrong and just making things up. You knew it was true after you saw him in the Gryffindor commonroom again. 

But after you both kissed him, granted on the cheek, he malfunctioned. Regulus’ home changed rapidly. He was rocking in chair again, following the vines of the tomato plants with his eyes. His train of thought interrupted by the squeals of a small child. Regulus wondered what on earth was a child doing in his fantasy home. A small boy, no older than three or four, ran around the corner of Regulus’ porch. His little bare feet stomping on the wood. Regulus felt himself smile like nature. The boy was decked in jean overalls, a red shirt underneath. A small truck printed on the shirt was peaking out from under the edge of the overalls. He looked like James, Regulus realized. The boy heard louder footsteps following after him and squealed louder. The boy jumped into Regulus’ arms muttering something about ‘papa’. Regulus looked up from the boy to see James. Though now he had grown out his mustache, and wore matching overalls with the boy. James scooped the boy out of Regulus’ arms. James pecked Regulus’ cheek before dropping the three year old back to his feet. He ran off, zooming around the garden patches. James quickly went after him. James raced after the boy. They both laughed. The boy squealed when James caught him and tickled him. Regulus tore his eyes away when he felt someone touch his shoulder. He found you sitting next to him, in a matching rocking chair. You moved your hand up to his hair. You looked older, like James, not by much but enough for Regulus to know you all had left Hogwarts. You kissed Regulus on the lips gently. He felt warm. You leaned closer and leaned into his ear. You whispered to him that you loved him. Regulus felt his eyes prick with tears and his throat dry. You stood up and took his mug off the table. You walked away muttering about him drinking so much tea people will think you’re dehydrating him like a raisin.

It was change. Regulus didn’t like change and he didn’t like identifying his feelings. He couldn’t like you and he couldn’t like James. You were in a relationship. He can’t. He couldn’t. But he wanted. Regulus knew he wasn’t ever good at controlling his wants. So he avoided you and James. Regulus knew if he made eye contact he’d fall all over again. If he fell his heart home would be crushed. Regulus had to protect his home.

Regulus was sitting with Sirius. They were both talking and laughing comfortably. It was one of the few times you've seen Regulus without his journal in front of him. He caught sight of you standing at the steps of the Gryffindor commonroom. Regulus' smile fell and he quickly stood up. Regulus muttered something to Sirius before swinging his bag over his shoulder. As he breezed past you, you whispered a goodbye. He didn't return it, he didn't make eye contact, he ignored you entirely. Sirius had asked you what that was about but you just left the commonroom as silently as Regulus.

You brought it up with James. He was just as upset as you. The one thing you both feared was making Regulus uncomfortable and that's exactly what you had done. You and James had to have burned your trails into the floors with all your pacing but you decided on what to do. You'd confront him. Even though it seemed all Black relatives hated confrontation it was all you could do. You confront and apologize and beg him to come back to the group. You both missed his insults so much you felt sick. You looked for him everywhere. Days went by before you were finally able to find him. He was hunched over in the library. Regulus was sitting as far away from his regular table as possible. He was scribbling away in his journal, as usual. He glanced up when he noticed people approaching. Regulus quickly shut the journal and went to grab his bag.

"Please." James whispered. James sat in front of Regulus. You sat next to James. Regulus stared at the ceiling before gently letting his bag drop to the floor again. He sat back in his chair and rested his hands on top of his journal. You steeled yourself, clutching James’ hand under the table for support.

“We’re sorry. For everything. We didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. We were just being-“ You paused. You wanted to make everything make sense to Regulus. You needed to explain yourself, you couldn’t live with yourself if you left this thread hanging. “Brainless. We were just trying to harmlessly flirt and we would’ve stopped the second we felt you uncomfortable. We misread you, obviously. We miss you. You’re avoiding us and the rest of our friends. We need you to come back. We’ll leave you alone, we won’t even look at you if that works for you, so long as you come back. So.” You stopped and cleanched your jaw. You felt like you might cry if you kept talking. Though you already seemed to do a lot of that. James dropped your hand to rub your shoulder.

“So, we’re so sorry.” James finished for you. Regulus stayed silent. He looked between you and James. You saw it in his eyes, hatred, disgust, repugnance. You felt sick to your stomach, knowing you’d only see his distaste in his eyes. Never seeing all of Regulus in his eyes again, made your throat close and tears collect in your eyes. You pressed your hand against your mouth, looking away from him. You would not cry in front of him. You would not make Regulus feel like this was his fault. James squeezed your shoulder, moving his soothing hand to your back.

“I’m not good.” Regulus whispered. You quickly looked at him. How could he think that? He was staring down at his journal. Regulus squeezed his own hands, you knew his rings must’ve hurt. Regulus sucked in a sharp breath. “At speaking how I feel. I usually avoid it. I’d rather sit in silence than speak up.” He looked up. His eyes had tears like yours. You hadn’t made eye contact with James since before speaking but you assumed he was probably teary eyed as well. Regulus slid his closed journal to the middle of the table. He stood and pulled his bag over his shoulder. Regulus tapped on the table with his pen twice.

“Just return it.” Regulus whispered before leaving the library. You watched him walk away. You looked to James. Your tears had left leaving behind pure confusion.

“Did we just get told to go fuck our selves in poetry nerd?” You asked James. He looked just as confused as you. He glanced at the journal.

“He did say he’s bad at saying his feelings, maybe he wants us to read his feelings.” You stared down the journal. It was bound in black leather. A small string wrapped around it thrice. It was unsuspecting. You didn’t want to read it though. That felt wrong, going into Regulus’ private brain like that. He was constantly writing. His deepest darkest thoughts, you assumed. You once sneaked a peak at Sirius’ diary and you truly never needed to know in that extreme of detail what Remus’ dick looked like. You looked to James. He stared at you. You pressed your lips together, contemplating. You gently picked up the journal, scared it would shatter under your fingertips. You unwound the string. You pulled the front cover up. You found the first page had Regulus’ initials. You smiled and held it toward James for him to see. He laughed and turned the page. You saw the pages were full of Regulus’ flowing handwriting. Overflowing really. The lines of his poems were pressed up against each other. His letters interning with each other like a lovers hold. If you weren’t already absolutely totally in love with him, you would’ve fallen more looking at his pretty messy letters.

The last poem made you melt entirely. Regulus started speaking of a cold home. All the walls stained with blood and screams. He moved. A nice home with a porch, a reading nook, painted walls, a coat rack, a garden in the back, and you. He moved into a home with his two lovers, their presence sweeping over every inch of the house. There was ding in the doorframe to your shared bedroom, James had pulled a dresser up the stairs and tried to squeeze it through the door. You had painted in small forgotten corners of the house. A sunflower on the side of one of the kitchen drawers, a moon added to the coat rack, a heart on the corner of Regulus’ bedside table. The back door was newer than the rest of the house, James had flung a snowball so hard one winter he shattered the glass. Regulus had started talking of the rocking chairs on the back porch. His sentence fell off, unfinished. You set his journal down, leaning back in your chair. James followed your lead. You both sat in silence for a few minutes. Baby Black liked you both back. Say that 5 times fast. You sighed. You stretched your arms over your head.

“McGonagall did say we needed 20 minutes of reading everyday.” You whispered to James. He nodded and pulled the journal closer between you two. You both held onto it with one hand leaning closer to each other to read Regulus’ writing. You read and read and read and read. Regulus wrote so much he had to get new journals fairly regularly. This journal started a few days before meeting Sirius’ friends. The fast few pages were Regulus stressed with his workload. After that there was the first mention of you. Regulus spent a whole page explaining how gorgeous he found you. He spent another page after talking all about how handsome and beautiful James was. All of which you agreed with.

After that all his pages were dedicated to you two. Slowly as you worked through the pages together, and the candles around you melted, Regulus fell in love. His words were frillier. He spoke of a garden, and tea. Regulus told all about laying in field of flowers. He painted images of you three deep in love and extremely domestic. Regulus wrote of pain. The pain of knowing it could never be reciprocated, you were already with James and James was with you. The pain feeling every touch warm his heart before burning his skin with his own insecurities. He wrote how the kiss situation felt for him. All roses and sunshine until his own sick mind turned it against him, making him think it was all some big joke on him.

“We are really bad at reading people.” James muttered. You gasped and sat forward. Glad somebody said it.

“Right?!? Oh god we just can’t catch a break.” You clicked your tongue. James gently closed Regulus’ journal, wrapping the string around three times. You huffed and stood up. You and James left the Library, it was closing soon anyway. You both decided you had enough time before curfew to go to Regulus.

You returned his journal. Regulus stood in front of you staring and waiting. You and James let it all out. Laughing at your stupidity, apologizing for making him feel like he was some joke even if it was only for a few minutes, and confessing that a wrap around porch and back garden sounded perfect. Regulus was happy. He smiled at you both before telling you curfew was sneaking up behind you. James decided you three would get together and make plans on how to move forward with your relationship on Saturday in the courtyard. Regulus agreed. As you and James were heading off towards your own common rooms, Regulus called your names. He ran over to you from his commonroom door. He quickly kissed your cheek before James’. Regulus skittered off back to his commonroom without a second to spare. You smiled brightly at James. He returned the look. He intertwined your hands, swinging them back and forth. James started skipping down the hall, still holding onto your hand. You joined him. You were both carefree

You didn’t have anything to realize. You already knew you loved them both.