#It's the only way to compete because everyone else is doing it too

[drowningworms]

Salaried is just another word for full time slave. All your time is their time.

Hourly full time is just another word for exclusive part time slave because for 10 hours of your life 5 days a week or whatever you belongs to them.

If you are part time, you are a full time slave with uncertain pay because all your time still belongs to them because they keep jerking you around and they always fuck up your hours.

But they aren't slaves. Nobody owns them. They can go with somewhere else if they must. Nobody is holding a gun to their head.

Well, that is all true. But if chattel slavery is the only thing that counts as slavery to you then you need to open your eyes, man.

Using someone's poverty against them to take shitty pay for shitty working conditions where you do whatever they tell you or lose your kids doctors food and shelter and join the growing masses of unhoused.

Sounds even worse than putting a gun to my head. Have you seen how we treat homeless people? They have to huddle in the corners and alleys and vacant buildings and bridge underpasses breathing the exhaust of our cars on every street and feeling our scorn everywhere.

We won't even let them duck in to shit in any store like you or I can. They have to shit in the street and get filmed for Fox News.

[cazshmere]

Aries in the Houses and What Ignites Your Inner Child’s Rage 🔥

materialist🔖

DISCLAIMER: These are just my personal observations and are meant for entertainment purposes only; it may not resonate with everyone due to the nuances of astrology. Please respect my work and avoid copying or stealing it. Enjoy reading!!

❤️‍🔥 Aries in the 1st House :

you had to be strong before you even knew what strength was. people saw your fire, your passion, your bold way of showing up, and just assumed you didn’t need comfort. so you rarely got it. you weren’t held the way you needed. you weren’t met with softness. just expectations.

your anger began as a form of defense, not aggression. you lashed out because it was the only way to say “i matter” when no one else was saying it for you.

you were punished for reacting, even when someone crossed a line. your reactions were labeled as overreactions. your “attitude” was the problem, never the disrespect you received.

you felt invisible unless you were loud, and when you were loud, you were told to tone it down. nothing you did felt right. your very being was treated like it needed adjusting or needed to be modified in order to be “acceptable”.

you weren’t allowed to just exist, you had to earn your space, justify your emotions and constantly prove that you were good enough to be heard :(

underneath all the rage is grief baby. grief from never being treated with the tenderness and kindness you deserved to be treated with. grief from being called difficult for simply having a sense of self

your inner child burns with fury anytime someone tries to define you, limit you or suggest that your essence is “too much” to be loved as it is.

❤️‍🔥 Aries in the 2nd House :

you were made to feel like wanting was wrong. that needing something meant you were a burden. your desires were treated like inconveniences to others.

you learned early that your worth was tied to what you could give and how little you needed in return. so you stopped asking. but over time, that silence turned into quiet resentment. your self-worth became wrapped up in your achievements and your inner child started to believe that being loved meant being useful, not simply being you.

any time someone dismisses your needs now, it reopens a wound. because you remember what it felt like to want safety, comfort, attention and be told “no” without care.

you may have had things taken from you without consent, your belongings, your choices, your time and it taught you that what’s “yours” can disappear in an instant.

you were taught that love should be earned and that even basic needs come with guilt. so now you guard your worth like a fortress, ready to fight anyone who tries to devalue you. you often equate even gentle criticism with personal rejection, because your inner child still remembers what it felt like to be blamed for simply having needs. to be told you were too much, too emotional, too demanding, when really, you were just asking to be seen.

you feel your inner child rage when people act like you should be okay with crumbs. because deep down, you know how it feels to give everything and still be told it’s not enough.

your fire is not greed. it’s the flame of someone who knows what it’s like to have to prove you deserve what should’ve been yours by right.

❤️‍🔥 Aries in the 3rd house :

you were interrupted more than you were heard. every time your curiosity sparked, someone dimmed it or mocked it. your thoughts weren’t seen as important, they were dismissed, corrected, or silenced.

you were told to “calm down” when you were just excited, to “speak nicely” when you were simply passionate, and to “think before you speak” when all you were doing was trying to express yourself. and if you have mercury retrograde too, the overthinking and self-doubt that followed probably became unbearable.

you may have had to compete for attention in your own home - siblings, noise, distractions and so you learned to speak louder, faster, sharper just to be noticed.

your rage stems from the belief that no one ever really listened to you. and when they did, it was to find fault, not to understand.

you carry anger from being underestimated. you had so much to say, but were treated like you were just talking too much. too fast. too out of line.

you feel a deep fury when you’re ignored or cut off because your inner child still remembers what it felt like to speak into a void.

your mind became a battleground between needing to be understood and fearing that no one ever truly will.

❤️‍🔥 Aries in the 4th house :

you were raised in an environment where safety came with conditions. maybe you were protected physically, but not emotionally. maybe you had to fight just to feel seen inside your own home.

you felt like you had to toughen up early and be the strong one, the independent one, the one who didn’t cry even when it hurt. there wasn’t space to be soft or be vulnerable but only to survive. so when you did need to cry, you did it in secret. because somewhere along the way, you learned that vulnerability made you weak and weak wasn’t safe.

your anger lives in your chest. it flares when people talk about “family” like it’s automatically nurturing, because to you, home was often a place of tension, not peace.

you were told what to feel and how to feel it. emotions like anger were unacceptable, unless someone else in the house was expressing it. your own feelings were either dismissed or punished.

your inner child doesn’t trust easily because they had to build their own emotional armor. they were taught love could be withdrawn without warning, so now they expect to be abandoned before they can feel safe.

you hate when people try to control your inner world, because that’s exactly what you fought to reclaim. your emotions, your space, your truth - you had to earn them.

you still burn with rage when someone tries to invade your peace because you remember a time when you didn’t have any.

❤️‍🔥 Aries in the 5th house :

you were told to “be careful” when you were just trying to be joyful. your spark was policed before it had a chance to grow. your creativity felt like a threat to those who didn’t understand it.

your passions were either ignored or treated like a phase. when you got excited about something, you were told to tone it down, not get your hopes up, or focus on something more “useful”.

you carry a deep, quiet anger about not being encouraged. about having to fight for your joy. about having to explain why what lit you up mattered or why something makes you feel happy.

you may have been shamed for taking up space - for being loud, expressive, emotional, theatrical. you were made to feel like loving yourself or being proud of yourself was arrogance

your inner child burns with rage when people act like your joy is frivolous, your art is childish, or your voice is “too much.” because you remember what it was like to be dimmed

you became protective of your self-expression. you learned to create in private, love in secret, or laugh only when it felt safe. but the fire never went out. you wanted romance to feel fearless, like you could love out loud without shame. but instead you were made to feel embarrassing for how openly you cared. your inner child still aches at being told their passion was too much to be loved back.

you get angry now when someone tries to shrink the very parts of you that once saved you, your passion, your confidence, your ability to feel deeply and loudly.

❤️‍🔥 Aries in the 6th House :

you grew up thinking rest had to be earned. that you had to do something to deserve peace. love felt like something you had to work for, like if you weren’t being useful, you weren’t worthy. so even now, slowing down makes you feel guilty, like you’re not allowed to just be.

you feel rage when you’re expected to keep going even when you’re so exhausted and tired because that’s what you were taught as a child: that tired wasn’t an excuse, and pushing through was expected.

you may have been forced into routines or responsibilities too early. the weight of being reliable was placed on you before you knew how to ask for help.

your inner child isn’t angry about working hard, they’re angry that no one noticed them unless they were achieving something. they’re hurt that love came with conditions. that they were only cared for when they were useful, never just because they existed.

you were made to feel like your needs got in the way. so now when someone tries to micromanage you, fix you, or make you feel broken for struggling, it angers you.

you feel a deep anger toward people and systems that expect so much from you but give nothing back. because that’s what you grew up with, being pushed to perform, to show up, to stay strong, with no space for how you actually felt. it still stings, being treated like a machine instead of a person.

you’re not angry because you hate structure. you’re angry because it was forced on you before you even knew who you were. you didn’t get to choose your pace, your path, or your needs and you just had to fall in line. and that pressure still lives in your body.

❤️‍🔥 Aries in the 7th House :

you were taught to play nice. to keep the peace. to not make things harder for anyone else. so you started shrinking yourself, holding back your anger, your truth, your needs all just to keep things smooth. and now a part of you still feels guilty for taking up space, even when staying quiet meant losing yourself.

you didn’t just crave love baby, you fought for it. you chased people who made you feel seen, even if only in fragments. your inner child still aches from the effort it took to feel chosen.

you were made to believe that being “too much” would drive people away, so you softened yourself to be accepted. and when they left anyway, the rage started to burn.

your anger isn’t about others leaving, it’s about what you gave up to make them stay. it’s about the way you betrayed yourself just to be loved.

your relationships became battlegrounds where you either lost yourself or fought to be understood. you were always either chasing or defending.

your inner child gets angry when love feels one-sided. when needing closeness is called “clingy,” or being independent pushes people away. all you ever wanted was to be loved without having to change who you are.

your inner child doesn’t fear love, they fear disappearing in it. they get angry when being in a relationship starts to feel like losing yourself. like your needs, your voice, your fire slowly fade just to keep the peace.

❤️‍🔥 Aries in the 8th House :

you were forced to deal with intensity before you knew what to do with it. secrets, power struggles, emotional undercurrents, you felt them all, but no one taught you how to name them.

you weren’t allowed to be fragile, even when life broke you open. people expected you to “handle it,” to not fall apart, to be strong for others while your own wounds were ignored.

your inner child rages when people try to pry you open without earning it. because you remember what it felt like to be emotionally invaded, violated, or exposed before you felt ready.

you had to deal with your emotions on your own from a young age. no one was there to hold you through the hard parts, so you learned to stay quiet and handle it yourself. now, when someone ignores your pain, it brings up all those old feelings of being unseen.

and yes even though you’ve always had to take the lead or be bold in some way or the other, there’s still fear in doing things on your own. deep down, you worry that if you fall, no one will be there to catch you.

you carry rage for every time someone took from you without giving back, be it your energy, your trust, your body, your secrets. now you guard yourself because you had to.

you burn when people treat your silence like consent, or your strength like invincibility. because your inner child still remembers what it’s like to be strong and terrified at the same time.

you’re not cold my love, you’re a fire that’s been contained for survival. and anyone who tries to control your emotional power will feel the heat you buried long ago.

❤️‍🔥 Aries in the 9th House :

you were told what to believe before you even knew you had a choice. you didn’t get to ask “why” , you just had to accept it, even when it didn’t sit right. deep down, your inner child still aches for the freedom to think for yourself, to explore, to believe in something that actually feels true.

your curiosity was mistaken for rebellion. your need to explore, challenge, and curiosity were treated like a threat instead of a strength.

you were punished for thinking differently, maybe not directly, but through subtle disapproval, shame, or being made to feel like your dreams were unrealistic, immature, or selfish.

your inner child still rages when people try to box you in, when your beliefs are belittled, or when your vision is met with cynicism.

you learned to hide how big you really are. how much you want. how far you’d go if no one held you back. and that suppression built into resentment.

you feel a deep anger when people assume they know more than you just because they’re older, more “qualified,” or louder, because you’ve always known your truth, even when no one else respected it.

you were born to roam, to question, to reach for more than what you were handed. but growing up, every time you wanted something different, you were told to settle down, to follow the rules, not your heart. your inner child still burns with anger when your freedom is treated like a flaw, or when your curiosity is met with shame instead of support.

❤️‍🔥 Aries in the 10th House :

you were expected to succeed before you even had the chance to mess up. the pressure started early, to get it right, to be the best. and somewhere along the way, you started to believe that being loved meant always performing, always achieving.

your identity got tangled with productivity. you were praised when you got it right, but not held when you got it wrong. so you learned to equate mistakes with failure of character.

you became the strong one, the driven one, because it felt like the only way to be safe. like if you slowed down or showed weakness, everything would fall apart. now it stings when people call you “too much” or act like your ambition is just about ego, they don’t see what it’s protecting.

your inner child burns with rage every time someone calls you “intense” for simply caring. for giving your all. for wanting to be more.

you were never allowed to slow down without feeling like you were falling behind. now, you carry a fire in your chest that never cools, even when you’re exhausted.

you’re angry because no one saw how heavy it was to carry so much alone. they just applauded the outcome, never the sacrifice.

you don’t rage because you want to dominate. you rage because you never felt free to define success on your own terms.

❤️‍🔥 Aries in the 11th House :

you always felt like you had to earn your place in the group. friendships didn’t come with ease, they came with performance, people-pleasing, or being the one who took initiative every time.

you felt invisible in spaces where you wanted to belong the most. the rage didn’t come from rejection - it came from being overlooked, underestimated or used when convenient.

you were the one who fought for the friend group, who planned, who showed up but rarely felt like anyone would fight for you back.

your inner child gets furious when people treat you like an afterthought. because you know how deeply you craved community, and how painful it was to be excluded from it.

you get angry when people only like parts of you. when they love your energy but ignore your truth. when they want your spark, but not who you really are. it makes you feel used, not seen.

you learned that being authentic often meant being alone. and that made you furious, not because you wanted to fit in, but because you had to choose between being seen and being accepted.

you still carry rage for every space that made you shrink yourself just to be part of something bigger and now, your soul refuses to do it again.

❤️‍🔥 Aries in the 12th House :

you weren’t allowed to show how angry you were. or how afraid. or how loud your inner world was. so you buried your fire where no one could reach it, not even you.

your inner child doesn’t throw loud tantrums, it stays quiet and burns inside. it shows up in your overthinking, in your random mood swings, in dreams you can’t explain. the anger is real, even if no one sees it.

you were always told you were too much, and too sensitive at the same time. so now, when people say “don’t take it personally” or “just let it go,” it stings because no one ever made it feel safe to feel that deeply in the first place.

you’ve carried battles you couldn’t name. inherited wounds. unspoken grief. emotional weight that was never yours to begin with. and your inner fire has been used to keep others warm at your own cost.

you feel anger at your own silence. at how long it’s taken you to speak. at how many times you swallowed truth to keep peace. you didn’t want peace, you wanted to be heard, your inner child wanted to be heard.

you rage quietly at the way people romanticize being “low-maintenance” or “chill,” because you know what it’s like to suppress your needs until they feel like ghosts.

you are a storm disguised as stillness. and the world doesn’t know how lucky it is that you learned how to control your fire but your inner child still wonders why you ever had to.

picture & banner credit to their rightful owners <3

© cazshmere 2025 [All Rights Reserved]

[covetyou]

solstice

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader  rating: Explicit (18+ only!)  warnings: smut (PiV), competency kink, grumpy/sunshine, he falls first, yearning, angst, almost enemies to lovers, Tommy being a little shit, no use of y/n, Jackson!Joel word count: 4k  summary: Three little words. Joel heard those same three words damn near every day for the last seven months. Most days, they were the only words you said to him. Sometimes, if he was lucky, you'd say them more than once. Other days, you didn't say anything to him at all. He liked those days least of all.

A/N: happy holidays @trulybetty! thank you for being so lovely about this being a little late. I was only going to go for one or two of your prompts for the @pedrostories secret santa, but then my brain went why not all of them, and now here we are. 

divider by @saradika-graphics

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Three little words.

"I got it."

Joel heard those same three words damn near every day for the last seven months. Most days, they were the only words you said to him. Sometimes, if he was lucky, you'd say them more than once. Other days, you didn't say anything to him at all. He liked those days the least.

You said other things too, of course. He heard you speak to other people. Not always nicely, but he heard you. You said more to him on occasion too. Out my way or put it down were some particular favorites, but none said more so than those three, tiny, little words.

I got it.

Because you did. He had never met a woman who had got it more than you. Strong, capable, and everything he ever tried to be. He watched every day how you'd got it. Climbing up ladders with tiles stacked on your shoulder, hauling wheelbarrows full of gravel, chopping wood in bitter wind and cold. You had it, and he watched, wanting it too.

The only problem was, he wasn't too sure what it was.

To begin with, it was the respect you commanded that he yearned for. He had that, once. Not here. Fuck, never here. The people here would barely look at him for the first few weeks. But you? They listened to you. If you said move they listened, even if it was with a roll of their eyes. If you told someone to fuck off to medical, they went without a grumble. They trusted you. Even if you weren't particularly generous with your smiles.

You were the exact opposite of what Joel was finding he had to be.

In Boston, people feared him, and that kept him, and Tess, safe. It was for the best. The people here feared him too, at first. Maybe even still now, if he was to be honest with himself, but he'd worked hard to change that. He met the mumbled good mornings with as much of a smile as he could muster. He went for drinks with his brother, made small talk with the locals even when he didn't want to. He tried to get into Maria's good graces, but never quite succeeded.

And he worked. With you mostly. Jackson didn't have much use for hired muscle or someone who could smuggle shit discreetly - not outside of the daily patrol shifts they wouldn't let him on yet, anyway - but they did have use for contractors. Plumbers, electricians, carpenters, anyone who was good at doing shit with their hands. Those were things that had value behind these walls and, luckily for him, that meant he had value too. For the first time in a long time, he meant something to people.

Just not to you.

As much as he smiled, and made small talk, and helped out fixing shit in this place that was now his home, he could never get through to you. He'd try to help you out, only to be knocked aside - sometimes literally. You barely looked at him. Spoke only when necessary. Once, you'd even told him to fuck off.

He did.

At first he took it all personally. He moped, and kept his sour mood hidden from his brother and Ellie. Then, he saw how you were with, well, just about everyone else, and that lessened the sting.

But, as time wore on, Joel saw other things too. Where at first you'd seemed rude and abrasive, he now saw the kindness and compassion you treated everyone with. If you told someone to go the fuck home, it wasn't because you wanted them gone it was because you wanted them rested. If you let people struggle, strike their thumbs with a badly aimed hit of a hammer, it was to help them learn. You never did let anyone make the same mistake twice. And, because of you, no one did.

It was with the waning of spring that his desire to be you changed into something different and entirely more confusing.

As the gardens and trees exploded in the frenzy of summer, you shed your layers. Literally, not figuratively. You still stayed firmly closed up as your jacket disappeared and made way for a shirt hung loosely about your shoulders. Then, even that found its way around your waist and Joel had to come face to face with the bare, strong expanse of your back while you worked in nothing but a tank top, the patch of sweat at the small of your back blooming while he watched.

It was for the best that he didn't think about what you looked like walking towards him during those relentlessly hot months, with nothing but a thin tank top pulled across your chest. It wasn't something he should think about in public, anyway. It was something he kept for late at night, when those three little words echoed around his head and you showed him just how much you really, truly got it.

By October, Tommy had caught on. Your jacket was fastened back around you, and you were as hostile as ever. You breezed past him one morning, hooking a ladder over one shoulder, toolbag gripped in your other hand.

"I got it."

By now, Joel knew you did.

By now, he wanted to come with you anyway.

So he did, grabbing his own set of salvaged tools and heading up to the latest reno with you, only to have you square up to him the second you saw him.

"I said, I got it."

Five words. It was a good day.

So good, that he couldn't keep his eyes off you in the Tipsy Bison that night. You weren't in here often - from what he could tell, you didn't do much outside of work - but the people who shared your company seemed to enjoy it. You sat soft and quiet in the corner, listening in to their conversation more often than you contributed. But, when you did, they laughed, and Joel caught himself smiling, and Tommy caught him too.

"Never thought you'd be more of a ray of fuckin' sunshine than anyone else, but there's a first for everythin', I guess," he'd said, tilting his glass to the table in the corner where you sat. 

Joel took a swig of the last fresh cider of the season and shrugged.

"You got an eye for her."  

He sputtered, choking on the tart, sweet liquid. "No I ain't."

"Well you got somethin'," said Tommy, clinking his glass against Joel's own. "If it ain't an eye it's your-" 

A harsh kick, and a grunt loud enough to turn every head in the bar later, and Tommy dropped it entirely.

For about a week.

Tommy ribbed him at dinner, drinks, lunch and just about every time in between. Called Joel 'Sunshine' even as he scowled. Asked about his girl as if you were anything other than a person who hated him. Slung his arm around Joel's shoulder and told him all about the birds and the bees, as if he'd ever forgotten.

He couldn't forget. Not with you running around barking at him and keeping him in a seemingly permanent state of arousal. If it wasn't your voice and that angry way you talked at him, it was just about anything else. He couldn't escape it.

It was how you did everything he could do, and more. What he had in strength, you had in technique. Your hands - fuck, did he watch your hands - were rarely unblemished with dirt or scrapes, but they were adept at everything you put them to. He couldn't look away, even if he knew each minute he looked was a minute quicker he'd be when he touched himself to the thought of you later that night.

The taunts stopped with the first snowfall.

"If you're really that interested, should talk to her," Tommy said instead. "Bark's worse than her bite."

"You're still sayin' she bites, though."

"Sure she would if you asked nice enough, brother."

Joel didn't ask.

He didn't ask the morning he woke up early to see the town blanketed in thick snow either. He simply went out, picked up a snow shovel and began working until the sun came up. He didn't expect to find you at his door that evening, or for you to grab him and throw him outside, pushing him up against the side of his own house.

"What do you think you're playing at, Miller?" you growled up at him, pushing him firmly against the siding.

Joel stared, dumb-founded, your hands curled in the front of his shirt - touching him - and blinked down at you.

"I don't give a shit who you are or what you've done out there. I am not scared of you and I am not having you take my job."

You ignored him more after that. Days went by with barely a word to him - not even a scowl thrown his way if he made too much noise or offered to help someone out on a job.

As for him, he couldn't stop thinking about it. Every day for weeks that night played through his head, memory of the feel of your hands on his chest and your face so close he could feel your breath, until Christmas was on the horizon and a pit of fear began stirring in his stomach. You were a balm to it, somehow. Something to focus on when the fear got too much and kept him inside, away from the crowds of happy people.

Every single I got it was more of a comfort than the last. It could have been the familiarity of it, or the way those words came softer and softer as the season wore on. Sometimes he'd head by the workshop to ask if you needed a hand, just to hear that soft rejection one more time.

Until late one cold afternoon, it didn't come. You were alone, blowing warm air onto gloved hands, and when he asked you simply nodded, and he followed.

You worked together in silence until the sun set, when you turned to him as you parted ways.

"S'hard this time of year, but joy and grief can exist at the same time, y'know."

He didn't go to the Bison that night. Or the next. He let the grief crack open his chest instead, and let it pour out over his bedroom floor for two whole days.

On the third, he let the joy back in. Ellie reeled off new jokes from a book she found in the Jackson library. He held his nephew and rocked the teething babe to sleep. He went back to the Bison - you weren't there - and celebrated the impending holiday.

Seven months, three days, and about as many hourssince he stepped foot back in Jackson. Damn near every day he's heard those three little words, and he'll be damned if he goes another without them.

With the day as short as it could ever be, the sun tracking low in the sky, he finds you.

"I got it," you say softly, when he asks you that very same question he always does.

"I know."

He doesn't know how your lips end up on his - because it is you who kisses him. He doesn't know how his fingers find themselves under your shirt either, the coldness of them making you gasp into his mouth until you're pulling apart, both wide eyed.

He does know you taste like fruit, even in the dead of winter. He always suspected it - knew your sweet tooth by the berries you couldn't resist and the sweet treats gifted to you. He knows your fingers are as cold as his when you hand him a shovel.

He does know, even though you got it, you let him help anyway.

You clear streets and roofs of snow together until the sun goes down. He follows at your heel in the dark, cold biting through your layers as you both stomp the snow off your boots, shovels thrown down, workshop locked up. You barely even look at each other until you're staring through the fog of your own heavy breaths on Joel's front porch. He doesn't know how to welcome you in - he never was too good with words - so he simply unlocks the door and pushes it open.

You step inside.

Layers are shed before the door even closes. Heavy coats dumped on the couch, boots toed off and left this way and that. The hat on your head stuffed in a pocket - he can't remember which.

You move upstairs - worked on this house, you say - and pull him into his own bedroom before his lips even touch yours again. But when they do, they do. Joel's frantic with it, feeling the softness of you so close to the hardness of him. His hands hold your waist, rooting you to him, but then you're moving them up and under your shirt to the flair of your ribcage. The curve of your breasts fit perfectly against the cradle of his thumb and forefinger, and he thinks of everything his hands have done, this is what they were made for.

It must be. When you whine at the feel of this thumb stroking across your pebbled nipple, he thinks for the first time in a long time that maybe his hands aren't so monstrous if they can pull such pretty noises from you.

In fact, the things they've done don't seem to matter at all when he gets to touch you, to pull sounds from you so sweet he'll be tasting you on his tongue all over again just from the memory of them. For all the harm these hands have done, they could never hurt you. You would never let them. You'd tear him apart first.

And he'd let you.

You swallow his groan when you palm his length over his jeans. He stiffens beneath your touch, warm and firm, and grinds into your hand. It's been so long since he's felt the touch of anyone other than himself. He could come just grinding himself against the firm press of your hand against him, if he thought about it too hard.

So he doesn't. He focuses instead on the soft plink plink plink as you run a nail up his ice cold zipper, the way you bite his lip, tangle your fingers in his hair.

He tries to take off his own belt, cold fingers fumbling against even colder metal, but you mumble I got it into his mouth, and his knees quiver.

You do. You always do.

His belt is pulled off and you're tugging him by the loops of his pants and pushing him against his own bed, the sheets still rumpled from the morning. You slip off your own and toss it to the side too, tangling it with his on his bedroom floor. Then, you're so very close to him again, his thigh between your legs as you nip and suckle on his bottom lip. He holds you close - one hand finding its way under your shirt again, cupping your breast fully this time, and the other pulling you firmly against his strong thigh.

You warm his thigh with the burning heat between your legs, grinding yourself against him, the seam of your jeans pulling tight against you. Moans you were pulling from him a moment ago are silenced by your own, your nails digging crescents into his arm as you burrow your face into his neck in an attempt to stifle them.

You're better than he ever dreamed. Softer. Warmer. Stronger. The sounds you make so much prettier than he ever thought. Those three little words so much sweeter within these walls than any other.

Even when you strip off layer after layer, it's better than he dreamed. Summer was barely a taste of you, he realises, when your shirt, your tank, your soft bra, all tumble to the floor and you climb onto the bed behind him.

You kick your jeans off, and he pulls his down too. He can't get his shirt off quick enough, the scars on his body forgotten as he strips bare for you as you watch, lust barely turning to curiousity as you take in the sight of his body.

"Come here," you tell him, and he obeys. You're softer with him when he lies beside you then. Grasping hands turn to gentle strokes, his own hands on your bare flesh mimicking your gentle movements across his skin.

When your hand trails down to his cock, squeezing once again when you feel him throb in your palm, he has to pinch his eyes closed and pretend he's anywhere but here.

"Been a long time," he says through gritted teeth. "Long, long time."

Me too, he thinks he hears you whisper before your lips latch to his again and his soft, worn boxers are slipped down his legs, kicked to the side, forgotten.

You don't look at him, and for that he's grateful. He's less grateful when you start to play with your own nipples and toy with the edge of your panties. He presses a kiss to your shoulder instead, hiding his face against you and breathing you in.

When he opens his eyes again, your panties are off, thighs spread, one hooked lazily over his own, the other stretched out on his sheets.

"Don't have to," you mumble, when he looks down at you, stunned look obvious on his face.

"I want to."

He touches you and you let him. His hands run all over your body, rough, calloused palms dragging across your soft belly, your hips, your thighs. He's dreamed of this, and still it's better than his wildest fantasies.

When your hand wraps around his bare cock, pumping his length once, twice, he thinks that's better than any fantasy too. You practically drag him by the cock, tugging gently to pull him towards you until he's kneeling between your thighs. You lazily stroke him, swiping precum across his tip and making him jerk in your grip. His own hands play with your thighs, massaging and squeezing them, drawing his fingers closer and closer to your apex.

Seven months, three days, and twenty-something hours since he stepped back into Jackson, he slips into you for the first time.

And, fuck, is it divine.

You're slick, and wet, his cock gliding across your skin before he pushes into you, and you both gasp.

He's slow. He trembles. His fingers make dents in your thighs as he grips them. You shuffle your hips, make yourself comfortable, and he holds steady while you adjust to the intrusion. Then, you pull him in, grabbing him by the neck to steal a kiss while he makes space for himself deep inside you, rocking each tentative inch into you until he's rooted inside.

You adjust - let the tenseness in your core release - and he barely holds on. And, just when he thinks he's got a hold of himself and begins fucking you in slow, languid movements, your hand moves and you say those three little words.

"I got it."

For the first ever time, he stops you. His hand pins yours to your hip, his movements stilling as you frown up at him, a threat on the tip of your tongue. So, he begs.

"Let me. Please."

And you do. He slowly swipes a spit slicked thumb against your clit, and watches as you melt into his sheets. By the look of you, the pure relief on your face, he thinks this could be the first time you've ever truly let go, and his ego soars.

It soars again when your legs tremble, rocking his thick cock in you as his thumb works slowly over your clit. You moan his name, and he groans too. He can't keep it back. It's the first time he's ever heard you say it, and he doesn't think it could sound better. Your eyes find his when you say his name again, testing him, only to pull another groan deep from his chest.

A small nod is all you give him as a sign you want more. His thumb moves quicker, popped into his mouth to taste you just for a moment before it swipes around your cunt where you grip him, and back up to your clit.

You come on him, face turned into his sheets, brow furrowed, mouth open as you moan and shake, trembling and pulsating on his cock as you come.

For you, he keeps going. Let's you ride out the waves, fluttering against him, as he barely holds back from the brink himself.

If this is all he gets - if you push him off and walk away now - it would be a good day, he thinks. But you don't. He doesn't even get chance to ask if you want him gone when you're pulling him down, kissing him, rocking your hips against him and murmuring against his throat for him to fuck you.

So, he does.

It feels sloppy, and awkward, his hips not quite knowing how to move any more as he snaps them against yours.

"Don't stop," you whisper to him with a scrape of your teeth against his shoulder. "Don't stop."

He's never been able to disobey you, he realizes. He's never had reason let alone want to. Even now, he does as he's told, keeps fucking forward into you, mattress squeaking and bed rocking as he finally, finally, finds his rhythm.

It's easy then. You spur him on, grip him tight, wrap your legs around his waist. He grunts, growls, can barely stop himself from panting, looking down at you and how you stare back at him and he thinks fuck, this is what it's like to be trusted by you.

With a sudden gasp, he pulls out, slipping from your wet heat to rut against your sopping cunt until he's spurting ropes of come against your mound and belly.

He apologizes, tries to admonish himself for being so quick. You tell him to shut up, hitting his shoulder. He does.

You both sigh in the afterglow. Even in the before, he never had times like this, he doesn't think. It was always frantic, too quick, too drunk, too fumbling. In the after, he could never quite relax enough to enjoy it fully. In the now, it's just about the best he's ever had.

You're still covered in him. Your fingers play idly in it on your belly, and he glows. He'd trace patterns with it over your skin, if only you'd let him. But then, you're up and gone, and he fears you're gone for good until you waltz back in and throw yourself next to him, mess cleaned from your skin as you stretch and yawn beside him.

"I aint tryin' to take your job, y'know," Joel tells you some time later, when the afterglow wanes and sleep pulls at him.

"Right."

He looks to you, the roll of your eyes and tug of a disbelieving smile on your lips visible in the glow of the bedside lamp.

"I promise. I'm just tryin' to... be some place."

You're still. And silent. He thinks he's fucked up for all of one second, until you're smiling sadly up at the ceiling.

"I get that," you say softly. "This is a nice place to be, all things considered."

And, though he thinks he knows what you mean, Yes, he thinks, this is a nice place to be.

This is a good day.

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[retiredteabag]

That’s all it takes?

Synopsis: you’ve worked alongside Gojo Satoru for years; he’s painfully arrogant, critical about everything, and infuriatingly competent at his job. Worst of all, he’s just as striking as everyone thinks. For once, someone looks your way, why is it he cares so much?

tags: lowkey enemies/rivals to lovers, reader has a thing for being praised, journalist au, unedited (sorry :P)

pt. 1?

my masterlist

You'd thought the intern was trying to get a good word out of you at first. It wasn't uncommon for aspiring journalists to do whatever they could to get their foot in the door of such a competitive industry. The fact that he had been accepted onto the office floor seemingly was not enough for him. Hey, you could appreciate a handworker.

The clicking of the keyboard directly before you could only be overshadowed by the usual smacking of gum from the editor who was absent today. Her vacant desk oddly quiet. You flipped through your notebook and added even more sticky notes to your monitor, reminders of all the tasks to complete this week.

You were just about as type A as a person could be, everything was done on time, and done well. You had made something of a name for yourself and the validation kept you going. You devoured praise like it was the only thing sustaining you. That was the type of attitude that landed you positions in the greatest opinion piece publisher in Japan.

You weren't the only one who was overly competitive; however, no, someone else had become well-known even beyond his article acclaim.

The sweet little interns watched that man now like hawks. The moment his boisterous presence entered the open floor of the office cubicles, eyes followed him with an anxious reverence reserved only for the brain behind the words so many bore witness to.

Satoru Gojo was a well-known creature, even outside of journalism, the press, and the news.

Today, of course, he was in one of those moods. He sauntered into the room with a casual arrogance of someone who knew full well that the earth continued to rotate because he demanded it to be so.

The meeting he had just left was running late, his afternoon had been disrupted and the chaos he had yet to dispel was surely about to be unleashed on some unsuspecting intern.

"I've worked here far too long for superiors to still be unable to summarize a damn meetinggg~" Gojo hummed around a mouthful of croissant he had stolen from the client table. The editor that typically sat beside you would have flinched at Gojo's current gesticulation mid-rant.

You missed the peace she brought you when Gojo came around. Crumbs fell as the man licked his fingers. "Wasting my time like that, someone's gotta let them go."

You spun in your chair, looking back to see if Yaga, the company's publishing editor-in-chief, the very man Satoru Gojo was badmouthing over a sip of smoothie, was hearing his insults.

You didn't even blink when the very 'superior' exited from the conference room, waving Gojo off. The interns seemed even more worried. "The office doesn't revolve around your snacking schedule, Gojo. If you want perfect synchronicity, you might as well quit."

The apprentices looked between each other and you smiled them off, silently telling them to get back to researching the projects they were supposed to be putting together.

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" Satoru squinted, judging your very existence with his gaze.

He sighed theatrically, lounging himself across an open swivel chair of the empty editors cubical as if sitting through an assembly was the greatest waste of his precious- "They should know how important my time is-"

You roll your eyes, cutting him off, "Oh yes, so terribly important that you're spending it eating and bitching to me."

If you were being wholly honest, the shareholders in that meeting should be grateful. You'd never say it aloud, but Satoru Gojo wasn't just a writer. He was a cultural phenomenon. In his early twenties, he had already been revered for his reporting and interviewing skills, his name had graced more publications post-grad than you had even after building your portfolio.

His rate per word was outrageous as well as his schedule: a true nightmare. The Tokyo Times was beyond lucky to have been able to keep him on the team for as long as they had.

He sighed, rolling his eyes, the drama queen. He reached across you, stealing one of your pens and spinning it around amidst his fingers. "'The only reason I haven't jumped ship is because it brings me." He glided out of the chair and leaned against your cubicle, sliding the pen along the decor you had there, observing it, "so much pleasure", you wince at his seductive tone, "to bring you…annoyance." You smack his hand before he can poke the fat of your cheek with the writing utensil.

Satoru grins, spinning away with your pen, scraping up a donut before making the way back to his office. His very own, if you were curious.

One of the trainees from earlier was watching this interaction. He had a look of shock on his face as if he couldn't imagine someone smacking The Satoru Gojo.

You'd like to imagine he just couldn't fathom such a well-revered writer being so immature, but alas, that was less likely.

If it was possible for someone to be more critical than yourself when it came to work, it was Satoru. He had this sadistic urge in him that made it impossible to not call out the mistakes of others. It stung. That was the truth, but you would rather he tell you his thoughts then lie to your face and laugh behind your back.

Working with him was more of a challenge than a motivation most days. The salary was a great motivation, though. Yaga and his team paid you well. More than that though, was the rage to outlive that white haired tantrum of a man.

You could see it in the way he smirked at you, in the way his eyes found yours when you would slip up, the way he never seemed to take you seriously. This might just be the worst aspect of your personality; you just couldn't help but want to impress people, even if they didn't respect you.

"He seems like fun to work alongside." One of the interns had left the side of his fellow novices. Making small talk, telling a joke.

You shrug at the young man, "Most can't tolerate him for longer than a fiscal quarter. I hope you have what it takes."

He looked down at his shoes suddenly, "Me too."

He was tall, or taller than you at least, sweet, and earnest. He dressed up for every day at the office, he was never late, and he greeted every employee by name - to put it simply, he made a good impression. You turn your chair to him, "How are you liking your internship, is it the experience you hoped for?"

He smiled again, and his eyes practically twinkled. "I'm very grateful for the experience, I'll continue to work hard."

"I have no doubt." You nodded encouragingly at him and turned to face the screen before you. You figured he would move onto his fellows, go work on his project maybe, but he stayed standing there for a moment too long.

He heaved a breath as if steeling himself to say something risky. "Actually, there's something I wanted to ask you."

He looked suddenly shy, "I've read a lot of your stuff, you've been a real inspiration to me, and being able to work here has been-"

You know where this is going, you give him an understanding nod. Reading off the name on his chest, you lean in conspiratorially, whispering "I'm sorry, I won't be able to sway the decisions on who gets offered jobs after your program is up. But you're a hard worker, I'm sure y-"

He startles suddenly, waving his hands frantically, "No! Oh, no, no, I'm not... asking for anything like that... I'm sorry I came off that way, I was just... well," He swallows, and you attempt to track his eyes as they wander, confused about what he could possibly want from you.

"I just... I admire you a lot. You're bright, and...you're beautiful...and I was actually wondering if I could buy you a meal sometime?" He sounded so unsure of himself but he was standing up straight, breathing through his nose.

You weren't sure what to say. You knew you weren't unattractive but to be completely frank, people didn't ask you out. You chalked it up to being intimidating or perpetually busy, or a control freak. Whatever the cause, you were not accustomed to people liking you in that way.

You flush.

"Oh..." You had to replay his words over and over again. Your mouth opened and closed, and you tried to weigh what he was asking. He was cute, but also… he was an intern at the company you worked for.

Before you could even formulate a response, you were jerked back to reality when the gentleman who had just so adamantly confessed his feelings made an "aagh!" noise.

Yaga was tugging him by the ear. "You, young man, better get back to work before I deduct points from your final presentation for fraternization."

He looked overcome with embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck while apologies spilled from his mouth. Yaga flicked him gently before he could bow anymore and rolled his eyes your way.

Dumbstruck, you stared at the screen of your computer for a long while. A dozen tabs were open, your task bar was still full of items you needed to get to today, even so, you found yourself cupping your cheeks, feeling the blood that had pooled there.

"Please don't tell me that was your type."

You're not sure when he appeared, but Gojo Satoru was staring at you with discernment. He had a judgmental eyebrow raised and he was tongue-ing at his cheek.

"Jesus." You huff, stretching your jaw, trying to brush off the flush you felt atop your ears. "What on earth are you doing?"

You made a brave attempt to type something onto a notation sheet. Dispelling the embarrassment that came with someone actually liking you.

"What am I doing? Look at yourself, you're all sheepish over some kid hitting on you."

You choke, "He's not a kid! He's graduated."

Satoru squints at you now, moving even closer. "Oh my gosh," he pulls a 'I'm-grossed-out-by-you-but-intrigued-all-the-same' face and continues, "are you actually into younger guys?"

"No!" You pant, your hands spread. He wasn't even that much younger than you, but being pressed about anything romantic, especially from Gojo was embarrassing.

"What's with this face you're pulling then?" He tapped the pen he had so rudely stolen earlier atop the wall of your cubicle, "I've never seen you all-" he fake gags, "-shy like this."

You huff, trying to find the words. "I'm-" you scoff, trying again, "not all of us are so used to...that sort of thing."

He straightens up suddenly, pulling his lips together, "Are you saying like... being flirted with?" He chuckles at the idea and you grit your teeth.

Breathing in, you try to laugh, trying to sound nonchalant, but it comes out annoyed. "Yes, Gojo, not everyone has people falling at their feet all the time."

Have I mentioned that Satoru, on top of being an incredibly talented creative, was a painfully striking individual to look at? Well, sure, he was very symmetrical. And tall. And he had...nice teeth. Veins too. It’s fair to say he wasn't lacking when it came to attention.

"So...you like him then." Somehow, he seemed offended at the idea.

"No, not necessarily." Was he trying to insinuate you were some kind of creep? He couldn't have been more than two years your junior. "But he was nice..."

"Nice?" Satoru wheezed. You didn't move. This whole interaction was ticking you off. Gojo's guffaws continued until he noticed you were just silently staring at him. "Are you serious?" He wiped a faux tear.

Why this was so upsetting for you, you couldn't quite place. "Yes, Gojo." You had a bit of an insulted tone to your voice, you wondered why he didn't seem to care about wasting his precious time with you suddenly.

"What... that's all it takes with you?"

Gears began to turn in Satorus' brain as he observed you now, taking in the new information.

"Normal people like niceness, Satoru, crazy, I know." You refuse to meet his gaze but he stands infuriatingly still, arms crossed, before his head canters to the side as if considering the concept for the first time.

"hmm..."

He shifts on his feet. You grow more tense by the second, waiting for his next snide comment. He clicks the pen a few times before slowly, setting it back on your desk. And then he was finally gone.

[clockwayswrites]

Birds need a flock, after all! Part 38

masterpost nooooooo editing *flops over in migraine land*

“Danny, can I talked to you for a moment.”

Danny closed his eyes and took a slow breath before turning to face Jason. He tucked his hands into his pockets. “Jason, sure. I hope yesterday went well?”

“Long but well, yeah,” Jason said. He looked away from Danny and shifted his weight in a way that seemed almost nervous. “I owe you an apology.”

Danny blinked. “I—pardon?”

“For yesterday,” Jason said. “I hurt you, which wasn’t what I meant to do. I was in a rush and didn’t stop to think about what what I was saying and what I did say I said badly. I’m sorry about that.”

“Oh.” Danny resisted the urge to reach up and rub at the back of his neck. “That’s okay Jason, apology accepted.”

“That’s—” Jason cut himself off with a frown. “It doesn’t have to be okay, I know I fucked up.”

“I don’t want to fight with you, Jason,” Danny said with a little shake of his head.

“So, what? You’ll just let yourself be hurt and roll over and pretend it’s okay?”

Danny shrugged. “That’s how I’ve survived.”

Which maybe was a bit sad, but it was true. Go along with his parent’s work, die in the portal, die again, try to keep the peace, lose everything for cheating, be punished for not liking a holiday, for being too nerdy too curious too much. He’d been rolling over and playing dead all his life.

Jason rubbed at his face. “You don’t.. you don’t have to do that, and I’m sorry that I made you feel like you have to here. A lot of us… we’re bad at saying things. Alfred and Bruce says too little, I say the wrong thing. Dick pretends to be happy and Tim wants to make everyone else happy. Cass struggles with words and Damian his emotions. Duke might be the only competent one in the house. But you shouldn’t have to just give in for any of us.”

Danny glanced away.

“You shouldn’t,” Jason insisted, “because if nothing else we’re all trying to be better and if we’re going to get better we have to be called on our bullshit. Yesterday I fucked up. I am scared of you being alone with Lian, but because you’re still mostly a stranger to me. That just means I’d prefer, to start, if Alfred or Bruce were with you two. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you had to hide or… or that there’s something wrong with you.”

“Isn’t there?”

“Fuck no!” Jason said with such earnest fervor that Danny was left looking at him in surprise. “There’s nothing wrong with you being a meta and the changes that you’re going through. And me being wary of you with Lian has nothing to do with that. It’s just my own fears and need to make sure she’s safe. And if you’re fine with it, and I mean really fine with it, I’d like to get to know you better, so I can get rid of that fear.” Jason stepped forward and offered his hand. “So, sorry for being a raging asshole, I didn’t mean to be, not that it makes it much better. But hi, I’m Jason Todd, and I’d like to get to know you better so that you’re not a stranger, is that okay?”

Danny gave a little snort of amusement at the theatrics, but he reached out and took Jason’s hand with his own. His own had that was almost normal again, save a scattering of soft, downy feathers. “Danny Fenton, and I’d like that.”

[clairewritesfanfics]

Mark Grayson Variants as Husbands

Characters: Emperor Mark, Mohawk Mark, No Goggles Mark, Omni-Mark, Prisoner Mark

Emperor/Target Mark

Surprisingly enough, he doesn’t have any concubines. He is mature enough to know that he doesn’t have the capacity to manage a harem of alien brides. Despite his occasional childishness, he is devoted to you and you alone and takes great pride in his monogamy. He would be lying if he said he doesn’t want a harem composed of versions of you though.

He can be, for lack of a better term, a brat and insists on “my way or no way.” But in the end, he always buckles to what you want, because he hates upsetting you.

He values your opinion. You are his consort, his only equal. He will always seek your advice before he makes any major decisions, especially ones that may affect the empire.

Mohawk Mark

Reads all the books you like to read, and even the fanfics you deemed “shameful.” Though he teases you, he never mocks you. 

He’s a philosophy nerd–actually, he’s a total bookworm who’ll read anything, from The Nancy Drew Cookbook to the Kama Sutra–but he has a soft spot for Camus and his peers. He talks to you about the inherent meaninglessness of life while you two eat pizza and watch TV.

He loves seeing you use and wear the stuff he buys you. It’s rare for him to actually make a purchase with the intention of getting you things, but he always thinks of you. Even when he isn’t thinking of you, he can’t help but think of you. 

One of his favorites is the heart-shaped locket which contained braided locks of his hair. He has an exact replica of that locket that contained your hair, too. 

No Goggles Mark

Resembles a puppy dog who loves his owner too much. A cute, obsessive, six-foot-tall murderous dog. His day starts and ends with you.

He would probably be your devoted househusband if he had any choice in the matter, but you don’t like him being alone. 

Out of all of them, he’s the reddest flag purely from the fact that he has difficulty, or rather, has zero interest in interacting with others when you’re not around. 

He’s also one of the more competent fighters, but he always comes home bleeding and bruised. It’s because you fuss over him. More blood means more affection. 

He doesn’t get the human concept of the “nagging wife” because he relishes in your voice, in your undivided attention. It doesn’t matter if you’re reprimanding him or praising him, whether you throw flowers or dirt, life with you is one big, beautiful garden. 

Omni-Mark

Appears cold and distant to outsiders, to the point that they can’t even picture him smiling or being all cuddly, but he’s just a man who knows when and how to separate business from pleasure.

He is very observant. He repairs any problems in the house before you even notice, like a leaky faucet or a squeaky door hinge. 

A man of his word, he prioritizes his commitments to you over everything else. If you two planned a vacation together on the other side of the world, then he is ignoring any and all calls from work. 

He has endless time, but time with you can only be for so long, which makes it all the more precious than the lives of everyone else in the universe. 

Prisoner Mark

The actual househusband.

He gets super competitive when it comes to cooking and maintaining the house’s cleanliness, which, while you do appreciate, concerns you a bit. You don’t want him to get too obsessed with the housework because it means he always finds an excuse to stay at home. Granted, he’s an ex-con, but you still want him to interact with other people.

Despite his rough exterior, he is still a sweetheart. When random thugs aren’t making trouble for him, he is pretty chill.

You find that you have nothing to worry about when you discover that he is on a first name basis with the cashier lady at the grocery you two frequent, is affectionately called “Boo Radley” by the neighborhood kids, feeds the ducks and pigeons near the park, and is loved by every dog and cat that crosses his path.

author's Note: I'm so lonely.

Masterlist | request rules | ask box Husband headcanons for: Cap Mark, Full Mask Mark, Maskless Mark, Shiesty Mark, Sinister Mark, Viltrumite Mark

Disclaimer: The images above are not mine but are screenshots from the Invincible TV series.

[astroxrion]

Gain E-Fame( attention from large groups) Using Astrology:

Aries 11H:

If you want fame you need to stop trying to compete and start realizing you are the fire everyone is already watching burn. Put your rage into action and make your presence impossible to ignore by choosing one message and driving it into every room you enter.

Taurus 11H:

Fame will not find you until you stop hoarding your voice like it’s too sacred to share. You gain influence by becoming immovable in your style and your tone so make the world feel your worth by repeating your value until no one can question your place.

Gemini 11H:

You do not need to know everything to be known for something so stop distracting yourself with ten conversations and choose one truth you can say louder than anyone else. Your fame depends on how clearly you can echo your thoughts into collective reality.

Cancer 11H:

Stop waiting to be invited and realize the spotlight is safest when you build it with your own hands. Your self-expression is a home people want to live in but they will not stay unless you believe your emotional power deserves to be seen on a world stage.

Leo 11H:

You cannot fake power when your ego is leaking and your pride is performing so clean your crown and stop begging to be liked. Real fame comes when you let your joy speak louder than your image and express what others are too afraid to say with their chest.

Virgo 11H:

You’re not going to be remembered for being right you’re going to be known for what you made with that brilliance so stop hiding behind improvement and start broadcasting your analysis like it’s gospel because in many ways it already is.

Libra 11H:

They will not worship your silence so stop curating and start confronting what balance actually costs. Fame isn’t in the aesthetics it’s in the stand you take when everyone’s watching. Use your beauty as a weapon not a shield and speak directly into the tension.

Scorpio 11H:

You will never gain real power if you keep performing secrecy like it’s strategy. Let the world see what you survived and then show them how to transmute it. Your self-expression becomes legendary when you speak what others are terrified to even admit.

Sagittarius 11H:

You will not gain respect by chasing expansion if you refuse to dig into your core beliefs and say them without editing. Fame arrives when you become a truth-teller no matter the cost and use your voice to liberate people from the lies they live in.

Capricorn 11H:

You’re not going to rise by playing quiet so stop hiding behind strategy and speak with authority even if your voice shakes. Fame comes when your self-expression builds a system people can follow so use your words to command the future not just survive the climb.

Aquarius 11H:

You are not above being seen so stop acting like exposure is beneath you. Fame is the tool not the trap when you use it to broadcast the vision that only you can download. Say what disrupts. Share what alienates. Your difference is the revolution.

Pisces 11H:

You will not dissolve into greatness by avoiding your message so stop pretending softness is the same as silence. You gain influence when you spiritualize your suffering into art and let your vulnerability echo loud enough to wake the sleeping.

[cameatslemons]

mouthwashing post. jimmy is a raging narcissist and im tired of people trying to give him benefit of the doubt. his inability to see two feet beyond what immediately concerns him dooms everyone on the tulpar, and even in the end, he only really cares about himself.

big list of all his narcisstic bullshit below bc im here to motherfucking prove it (mouthwashing spoilers of course)

most obviously: everything is a personal attack on him. EVERYTHING. you can see it most clearly at the birthday party; while everyone else is understandably freaking out about being laid off, jimmy starts telling curly off and insulting both him and everyone else at the table, as if being laid off is a personal attack on jimmy specifically. it doesn’t matter that anya has nothing to go back to, that swansea’s life is thrown away- jimmy is the ONLY victim here, apparently. curly is personally responsible for getting laid off, in his eyes.

i don’t actually know the words for this but the way he’s constantly going “i have to do EVERYTHING around here”- again, feeling like its a personal attack to be asked anything at all. anya asks him to take care of curly because her entire fucking life is falling apart, its her end of days, but somehow shes the villain for struggling.

also the general antagonization of anya. she’s extremely competent for the hand she was dealt! shes too poor to attend med school yet shes very knoqledgable in medication and wound care! and yeah no shit shes struggling now, someone she cared deeply about is suffering immensely and now the ship is being “run” by a man who assaulted her. no fucking shit shes breaking down. but jimmy makes it clear time and time again that this is somehow her fault, all this shit of “shouldn’t nurses EARN their titles?” while she’s having a mental breakdown.

similarly, swansea being villainized for holding the cryopod for daisuke and killing him. like, i get it, but jimmy’s whole thing of saying he can fix daisuke is… c’mon man. he’s a hero to himself, he “always” fixes things the same way he “fixed” the ship, and he will fix daisuke and claim heroism even though it’s very clear nothing else can be done for him.

“someday you’ll thank me” while forcing curly to eat his own leg. the incredible confidence that he is in the right even when literally torturing someone.

MOST IMPORTANTLY: the final scene with curly burning. jimmy doesn’t earnestly believe he has anything to be sorry for. even when apologizing to curly he says “we can BOTH be heroes!” despite everything, he still thinks he’s in the right. he STILL thinks he’s a hero, because he’s right, he’s ALWAYS right, surely. he can apologize and grovel all he wants but in the end he still thinks he’s the hero of this story; he doesn’t genuinely think he has anything to right, he’s only doing this to be freed of consequence. and/or believes a simple “sorry” is enough, that it can fix completely ruining the lives of four people with his own inferiority complex.

i do think the choice to put curly in the pod instead of himself is the only time he recognizes his own guilt, if any. maybe it’s realizing that he DOES need something more than a simple “sorry” to even begin to try to fix things, maybe it’s that he thinks this will cement him even further as a hero. even then, does this fix anything? all it’s doing is making curly suffer more. is this actually a good thing?

to him, he’s the hero here. he always is. crashing the ship is a heroic thing, putting all his crewmates through hell is a heroic thing. all because something nobody can control is somehow a personal attack on jimmy.

not to mention all the “hallucinations” he has- it’s what he thinks should happen, it’s what he wants to hear. curly still calling him a friend, the dead corpses of his crewmates praising him, even in the final cutscene with curly burning where he says “no, YOU take the pod”. none of it’s real. it’s just what jimmy thinks is “right”. despite everything, he thinks everyone should thank and praise him, because he can do no wrong.

conclusion: jimmy is a narcisstic piece of shit.

[robokyenthusiast]

ok ive been combing thru the various homestuck tags since reading the upd8 and i have seen no one really talk about rose. which, given everything else is kind of fair. like look karkat and vriska being the most competent people in the room. june egg cracking.

but im so so so interested in what rose has going on. she's a seer of light. she saw everything that was going to play out. it was going to go right for the revolution. she wasn't going to have to receive consequences for her shitty actions (yeah yeah jade is culpable in some way too, but we're focusing on rose here).

and vriska, another light player, steals it from her. she takes the information rose saw and literally does not give a fuck, and yet again makes her own luck out of everyone elses.

and the way this breaks rose

ohhh my god. i genuinely don't think rose has had anything contradict her seer vision the entire 20ish years of candy. which would explain why she's losing her shit so much.

this is why i think light as an aspect has way a bit more to do with luck than information. rose was seeing what would be her luckiest timeline to escape consequence. she knew kanaya would have to forgive her because she saw it, so it'll be so.

and all of what she knows is now broken.

imagine you're able to know everything that will happen before it happens, and there's only one person who could possibly change it, but she's been gone so long you don't even register her as someone who could disrupt what you see. and for rose this has all come crashing down immediately, at one of the most tumultuous parts of her life post-game.

she doesn't see the future anymore. maybe she never did. one of the main things rose finds comfort in, at least in candy, is that she's in control of her situation. she knows whats happening at near all times. and vriska gives her a true reality check by taking her luck.

so she breaks, has a panic attack. kanaya hasn't forgiven her (presumably), she's not in a bullet induced coma or dead. her mental break isnt coming from just having to face her consequences, its coming from a complete upset of everything she thought she knew

[ryker-writes]

Hi Ryker!

May I request Male! or GN!Reader dating Idia and Malleus?

Because Cater said he finds Diasomnia and Ignyhide people hard to approach, most of the student body fears Malleus and never really saw Idia, I think it'd be hilarious if Reader managed to befriend and woo them both.

I wish you a nice day/night, remember to drink something tasty and eat something.

hi hi! Glad to finally write a request for you since you've been around my blog for a bit! I'll be doing GN!Reader to keep it inclusive to whoever reads and wants to connect with it (hope you don't mind). I kinda got carried away so it's longer than I thought it'd be

Request rules and Masterlists

Dating Idia and Malleus (Poly relationship)

First of all; WOAH

It's not uncommon for people to avoid both Idia and Malleus for very different reasons

Idia avoided people, but some found him creepy or weird due to his unique appearance and personality

Malleus on the other hand, is elegant and refined, but too powerful and intimidating for his own good (and it's not even intentional)

So it's quite a feat just being able to befriend both of them considering they're not often even seen around campus

There's always a stunned silence when you mention them as close friends

Cater says you must have next level "rizz" in order to charm your way into a conversation and friendship with both of them

And when you tell him you're actually dating both of them? He is truly stunned into silence, staring at you like you grew a third head

He and everyone around you is baffled beyond belief

It's one thing to date the world's biggest introvert who can't even attend class in person, but to date a literal prince and one of the strongest mages at the same time???

"They have to have strong magic! How else can you possibly explain them dating Idia and Malleus?"

Dating the two of them had quite an interesting start

I think the only way for you to possibly date both of them is for Idia to come first

If you dated Malleus first, Idia would probably bury how he feels thinking you would never date him too since he can't possibly compete with Malleus for your love

And he does feel a little insecure when you mention also having mutual feelings with Malleus too

But with some reassurance that you still love him very much, he's okay with it!

Actually, he likes it!

With you dating Malleus at the same time, he doesn't feel as much pressure to do everything perfectly to be a good boyfriend or forcing himself to go to big events with you because he knows Malleus is there when he's not

Idia also needs time to himself to recharge his social battery, but he feels terrible telling you he needs to recharge on his own, but now you can spend time with Malleus while he recharges and will be ready to spend time together later!

He sees and understands why you like Malleus too, after all, Malleus is "A SSR boss character with insane stats. Anyone would be attracted to him"

Malleus on the other hand...can't fully see the attraction to Idia

Don't get me wrong, he knows you love Idia too and he respects Idia, even considers him a smart and worthy fellow partner for your love

He just doesn't feel the same affection for him as you do, and that's okay with him

Malleus is open to new experiences and things to try, so when you suggested being in a relationship with both him and Idia, he was surprised, but willing to try

and to his surprise, he quite enjoys it!

He gets to know you and Idia on a deeper more personal level, and to him, that's one of the best parts about it! He doesn't have many people in his life that he can be so open and close with, so being able to be like that with both you and Idia really means a lot to him

Malleus knows there are times he's out of touch with modern culture and traditions, so he's very glad to have Idia who can help fill in the gaps and explain some things to him (after rewording his sentence at least five times to make it understandable)

With Idia around, he doesn't feel like he has to worry as much about not being able to keep up with how fast human/modern times move, and worrying about you whenever you're not in his sight

Overall, they both enjoy the relationship the three of you have

Dating both of them is quite the experience

For starters, you'll never face financial issues. Anything you want or even mention a slight interest in wanting, you'll have it by end of the day

Yeah, there's a mountain of presents on your birthday, and that's just from one of them

Security is also never an issue. No one in their right mind would provoke Malleus anyway, but even with Idia they risk all their personal and private information being exposed for all to see and the wrath of Styx security

In fact, just about any issue you have can be solved by both of them

They balance each other well in different approaches and areas of expertise

When you have a tech issue, leave it to Idia. When you have a magical issue, leave it to Malleus. When you have a personal issue or issue with others, they'll work together <3

The two of them love you very much, and they often work together or help each other in their efforts too

Even when Idia is feeling insecure about himself and where he stands, Malleus can sense it and is able to reassure him just how deeply both you and him care for Idia and value him

And when Malleus is feeling confused or like a third wheel of sorts, Idia is willing to take a step back and share attention with Malleus too

They even spend time together on their own too, and despite the initial awkwardness in the beginning of the relationship, they get along quite well

You've walked into Idia's room before to find Idia trying to teach Malleus the basics of technology and computers, even trying to teach him how to play some of the simpler games

The next day Malleus had a custom headset to help accommodate fae ears and his horns

On the other hand, Malleus has managed to drag Idia out of his room more, walking at night for both ambiance and to avoid the majority of people

When holidays come around, the two scheme together on how to surprise/what to do for you

There have been rumors circulating around the school about the two smiling evilly and chuckling in dark corners, and everyone gets on edge for a few days

Most of the time when you mention dating both Malleus and Idia, people don't believe you

They'd probably think you're delusional, but the smart ones know to hold their tongue on that

The not so smart ones (Ace) don't hold their tongue and call you delusional, and suddenly there's a thunderstorm and their search history is public information

Malleus and Idia are both pretty protective of you, and love you deeply, so you bet they're going to do just about whatever it takes to ensure you're happy

[olivethewriter]

The Theory of Clark Kent

You were the new girl in Smallville.

You’d just moved into your cousin Chloe’s townhouse to finish high school, and as much as you didn’t exactly dream of a town where cows outnumber people, you tried to stay positive. You kept your head down, focused on school, and did your own thing—varsity sports, a 4.0 GPA, and a part-time job at The Talon.

But no matter how much you tried to do your own thing, Chloe’s friend group kind of swallowed you whole. Which would’ve been fine… if it weren’t for him.

Clark Kent.

Chloe’s annoying, snarky, do-gooder best friend. You couldn’t stand him, as a matter of fact you despised him. And you were pretty sure the feeling was mutual. It wasn’t just the fake boy-next-door act either. It was how he always had to compete with you.

You were used to being the best. The smartest. The fastest. The one teachers praised and students envied. But then came Clark, all tall and humble with his stupid blue eyes and casual perfection. If you got the highest grade in the class on a math test? Clark beat your score—in another period. You crushed the fitness exam in P.E.? Clark doubled your reps and didn't even break a sweat.

“Sorry I beat your score, superstar,” he’d say, looking down at you like the universe itself handed him the win. “Someone’s gotta keep things interesting.”

“Oh, buzz off, farm boy,” you’d snap, rolling your eyes and stomping away.

Your rivalry only got worse from there. You started studying more. You even baked your (evil) history teacher muffins. But the worst part? You couldn’t explain why Clark Kent got under your skin the way he did. Maybe it was because he was too perfect—athletic, smart, kind. Suspiciously kind.

Then everything shifted.

It happened late one night when you were closing at The Talon. You were taking the trash out when, out of the corner of your eye, you saw someone messing with Chloe’s car—the one you’d borrowed.

“Hey! Back off!” you called. But if the guy heard you he didnt let it show. So you approached. Stupid, in hindsight, but it wasn’t like you were going to just let him steal it. You were inches away when he turned and shoved you against a brick wall.

You kicked, punched, flailed, screamed. You were sure you were doomed when suddenly, the pressure lifted. The weight disappeared. And instead, there were those familiar blue eyes, lit up in the dark like some kind of divine intervention.

Clark.

Without thinking, you threw your arms around him, clinging to him like he was the last solid thing on Earth. But once the adrenaline wore off, you jumped back like he was a live wire. Your brain was filled with questions.

“How did you get here so fast?” you blurted. “What were you doing out here?”

He scratched the back of his neck, looking guilty as hell. “I was… getting coffee?”

“Here? At 10 p.m.?” you raised your eyebrows

He offered to drive you home, and you let him—mostly because your legs were shaking, and your eyes were still welling with tears.

But after that night, you couldn’t unsee it. The weirdness. The speed. The perfectly timed rescues. The way he caught you that one time before you tripped, like he knew before you did.

You paid attention. Watched. Waited. And when the pieces started coming together, you set a trap…

You invited Clark to the old grain mill. Climbing to the top level, you looked out over the edge, feeling the height in your bones. Clark stood a few feet behind you, confused but curious.

“Listen, Clark,” you began, voice steady. “You’re super fast. Strong. You lift things like they weigh nothing. And you’re always there. Always. Just before something happens.”

His smile dropped. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you’re different.”

“I’m not,” he said quickly. “I’m just like everyone else.”

You could tell he was lying. The way his jaw clenched. The rehearsed tone. He’d said this before—to someone else, maybe even to himself.

“So Clark, you’re telling me if I jumped off this building right now, I’d just fall? Die? And I wouldn’t find you at the bottom waiting to catch me?” You raised your brows, fighting a smirk. You knew you had won. 

“Y/N, please don’t,” he said, voice suddenly panicked. “I won’t be there. Just come down and I’ll explain, okay? I promise.”

“Okay,I'll come down” you said—and jumped.

The wind roared past you, but you barely felt it. A second later, you were weightless in warm, steady arms. When you opened your eyes, you saw his—blue, wide, terrified.

“OH MY GOD, why would you do that?!” he practically shouted, setting you down.

“I didn’t die,” you said, brushing dust off your shoulders. “And… I proved my theory.”

Clark looked—pissed. Like, actually mad, you couldn't help but think this was the first time you had seen him angry. “You did all that… for a theory?”

You crossed your arms. “Yes. It’s not like I could’ve just asked you. Because news flash—I tried.”

His jaw clenched. Then his eyes softened.

“I wasn’t trying to lie. I just didn’t want you to think I was some kind of freak.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Clark, you literally have superpowers. ‘Freak’ isn’t the word that comes to mind.”

“Really? Then what is?”

You shrugged. “Special, maybe. Or different. Or just… heroic.”

He let out a breath of a laugh. “I’m no hero.”

“Are you sure?” you asked. “Because you’re always trying to save people. That sounds pretty heroic to me. I mean, you have saved me twice now, most guys would’ve just asked me out by now—but you’re out here catching me mid-fall.”

You smiled at him, soft and teasing. He blushed.

“Clark?”

“Mmhmm?”

“When are you going to kiss me?”

You didn’t have to wait long.

His hands cupped your face gently, thumbs brushing your cheeks as he leaned in. His lips met yours in a way that was soft and warm and just a little unsure, like he wasn’t totally convinced this was real.

But it was real.

One of his hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer as his mouth moved against yours. Your hands found his hair, fingers curling through the soft strands as your heart thudded hard in your chest. When he deepened the kiss, his tongue brushed yours, slow and curious, and you didn’t pull away—you leaned in, kissing him like you’d been waiting all year for this exact moment.

You both pulled back slowly, a little breathless. His forehead rested against yours, and you caught the tiny, smug smile tugging at his lips.

“Who’s keeping things interesting now, farm boy?” you whispered.

You grabbed his hand and started toward your car.

And for once, Clark Kent didn’t race you.

[hairmetal666]

Everyone in the league knows about Eddie Munson. He has the makings of a great pitcher, except for the fact that his slider has a 75% chance of sliding too high and his fastballs mostly end up in the dirt. His technique is wild, flailing, unrestrained. Which is why Steve is beside himself when he learns about the trade.

The owners, they think that Steve being the best catcher in the league means he can work with Eddie, settle him, make him a real prospect. Steve's input isn't needed with the decision already made, but Munson--with all his tattoos piercings and leather--looks like he'd rather hock a loogie at Steve than take directions from him.

And Steve is the best in the league, the glue that keeps the team together. They're a well-oiled machine, and Eddie is--Eddie is a squeaky wheel.

They meet for the first time, briefly, in the locker room. He's seen the guy before, of course, but now, like this, he can't help but be intrigued by his pale skin and long curls and brown doe-eyes, his lightly muscled frame. And they're in the locker room, Eddie with just a towel around his waist, exposing his toned chest and stomach and the black swirl of his tattoos.

"Steve Harrington!" Eddie reaches out a hand. "Great to meet you, man."

"You too. Excited to have you with us." The handshake is quick and firm and Steve is trying not to be surprised about how excited and genuine the guy sounds, keep his mind away from thinking of how Eddie is naked aside from the towel.

With only a few weeks until the start of the regular season, Eddie starts pitching to Steve. And Steve, he so expects Eddie to fight and grumble and refuse, that his head sort of spins when, on the first day, Eddie claps him on the back with his glove, says, "where do you want me, cap?" and that's that.

He wants to say that they dislike each other, that they're a bad fit, that Eddie is full himself and refuses constructive criticism.

Instead.

Instead it's easy.

Eddie doesn't complain, doesn't argue, just watches Steve, learns him, takes his advice and notes and implements them as much as he can. They like each other, have an easy rapport, get each other. He's tight with all the pitchers, but Eddie is different. They settle each other.

They're best friends. They hangout constantly. And he doesn't have a crush; he doesn't. It would be unprofessional. They're best friends.

But sometimes, sometimes he thinks he catches Eddie looking at him. It's impossible. Of course it's impossible. Eddie couldn't be into the guy Sports Illustrated called "baseball's Ralph Lauren model" in the intro to Steve's Body Issue photo spread. And it doesn't matter one way or the other because Steve won't make a move. He won't jeopardize the team like that.

They don't touch. He touches everyone on the team, often, and Eddie particularly is a physical guy, but aside from that first handshake, he keeps his distance. Steve's afraid--even though it's silly, he's afraid--that once they start touching, he won't be able to stop, and he can't let that happen.

The team is good, competing for first place in the National League. Eddie's success has made everyone else better.

It's late July, they're in first place in the league, and Eddie's pitching a perfect game. There's only been 24 perfect games thrown in the history of Major League Baseball, but it's the eighth inning and Eddie's doing it.

A pitch goes wild, veers high over the umpire's head. Eddie's shaken, Steve can tell with how his fist tightens compulsively around the ball. The next pitch swings wide, towards the batter's knees.

The count is at 2 balls, no strikes, and he can see, even from behind home plate Steve can see, that Eddie's losing it. He heads for the mound, refuses to let it end like this. He closes the distance between them, has a quick internal debate before he puts his hand on Eddie's lower back. They've never touched, this is it, this is--warmth bleeds from Eddie's skin, through the fabric of his jersey, goes straight to Steve's head.

Eddie frowns. "I don't think I--"

"You're going to do it, Ed. I know. I can feel it." He pats his chest, over his heart. "It's gonna happen."

Eddie's breathing settles and it's only then that Steve realizes he's rubbing circles into Eddie's back with his thumb. He's not sure when he started, doesn't want to stop, loves being able to feel.

"Okay," Eddie says.

"Okay."

Steve removes his hand, heads back to home, still tingling with the warmth of Eddie's body even as he crouches behind the plate.

He closes out the inning with three definitive strike outs. The crowd goes wild.

They take the field for the top of the 9th, the crowd is screaming, ready for this, the energy zipping through every player on the field.

It goes by in a blur. Nine pitches. Eddie's perfect game is wrapped up in nine phenomenal pitches.

As the ump calls the last out, there's a moment of complete and utter quiet in the stadium, Steve's heart a pounding hum in his ears, before pandemonium breaks loose. There's screaming, fireworks, someone is crying--

All he can see is Eddie. Eddie's who's thrown his glove to the dirt, is barreling towards him with a triumphant smile bright on his face. Steve stands, runs to close the distance. He sees the moment that Eddie decides to jump into his arms, catches him easily--will always catch him--but his legs are tired and the momentum gets him, sends them tumbling back into the grass.

They're both yelling, laughing, smiling hard enough to hurt. Eddie's hair has fallen out if its tie, tumbling around his shoulders, and Steve gazes at him, can't help it, in this moment can admit that he's so, so astronomically in love.

It's only then Steve realizes that the laughter's stopped, that Eddie's gazing back. Brown eyes shining bright with happiness, cheeks flushed pink, lips parted. Thoughtless, he reaches up to caress Eddie's cheek.

The team reaches them, streaming around them, yanking Eddie and Steve to their feet. The celebration stretches around them, the moment slipping away. He wants to finish what they started but there are interviews, champagne showers, congratulations, that keep them apart. Sometimes, from across the room, their eyes meet, and there's heat there that's new, that sparks something low in Steve's gut.

Hours pass, and finally he finds himself alone in the locker room. He's just pulled on his t-shirt when the door shuts behind him. He spins, finds Eddie, waiting, watching.

He crosses the room without a word, can't not, not now, not after everything. They grapple for a second, the wanting so strong that it takes a second to settle, to find each other. They kiss hard, desperate, seething with desire.

Steve hopes it never ends and it doesn't, just tapers into soft kisses, gentle nips. He can't bring himself to step away.

"Is this for real ?" Eddie whispers.

"I've been insane about you since the trade."

Eddie's smile is blinding. "I used to have those pictures of you--the ones with the little red shorts?--in my locker in the minors. Feel like I'm living in a dream right now."

It lights him up inside, knowing that Eddie wants him, has wanted him. "Let me take you home and show you just how real it is?"

He snorts, but his dimples deepen, eyes shining. "What a line, sweetheart."

"Yeah well, the baseball field isn't the only place where I hit home runs."

[agreeewrites]

what would it be like to date Fred Weasley and Cedric Diggory? 💭

cw: MDNI 18+, smut, mfm, mentions of blood, alcohol, mostly fluff and general silliness

an: had to repost this bc tumblr glitched. this is very long and jumps around a lot. forgive my enthusiasm

masterlist | divider by @strangergraphics

⋆ you never thought you’d have two boyfriends, let alone Fred Weasley and Cedric Diggory, as unlikely of a pair as you’d ever seen. the prankster and the golden boy, the pauper and the prince, but perhaps that’s exactly why they were so drawn to one another, seeing something in the other that they lacked themselves.

⋆ you’d had a crush on Cedric for as long as you could remember, just like everyone else that ever met him. but when you confided in your best friend, Fred, about your feelings, he stunned you with his own admission: he and Cedric had been a secret thing for close to a year, and Cedric had asked on more than one occasion if you’d be interested in joining them some time.

⋆ and, of course you were.

⋆ a one-time hookup became monthly, then weekly, and you quickly caught feelings for Fred along the way, and then you were studying together, grabbing dinner, visiting Hogsmeade arm in arm. it felt so natural, so right, that making it official seemed like the only logical thing to do.

⋆ it didn’t matter what anyone else thought, because you had one another.

⋆ Cedric was the romantic, and an expert date planner: picnics by the lake and hikes through the hills, candlelit dinners in the kitchens late at night.

⋆ you adored it, but Fred would sometimes get embarrassed, flustered by the other boys easy, overflowing affection, and retreat into himself.

⋆ but you and Cedric would always find a way to draw him out, bringing sweets and lots of love, and would dote on him until he smiled again, accepting that he was special and deserved to be spoiled, something he’d never experienced before

⋆ Fred was the more physical of the two of them, always reaching for hands, stealing kisses, or a cheeky handful. Physical touch was his love language, and he was constantly telling you how much he loved you. He was the king of pda, and didn’t seem at all bothered by the points Professors would knock off Gryffindor’s score for heavy-petting in the hallway.

⋆ He’d even smacked your ass in Dumbledore’s office one time, to Cedric’s profound horror. Cedric had taken two points from Gryffindor that day, the first and only time he’d ever wielded his Prefect power over one of you.

⋆ Fred, of course, was also always the tease, playing small tricks throughout the day, little things to get on your or Cedric’s nerves just so he could kiss the scowl off your faces.

⋆ it translated to the bedroom, too. Fred loved riling you up with feather light touches and open-mouthed kisses everywhere but where you needed him most, working you into a whiny, pliable mess before he’d give you even the smallest satisfaction, calling you a needy little slut in that infuriatingly sexy, mocking tone of his that drove you wild.

⋆ and Cedric…Cedric would hold you down for him, cooing in your ear about how well you were doing, and what a brave girl you were, and just a little bit longer, princess, you can do it.

⋆ he’d pretend to be empathetic, scolding Fred when he played a little rough, or teased for a little too long, but you knew that Cedric loved it as much as Fred did, especially when he got to reap the rewards of their frazzled, cockhungry girlfriend

⋆ that what you needed, pretty? I know, I know, feel so good, hm? Freddie get you nice a wet for me? he’s so sweet isn’t he?

⋆ the two of them loved to compete, pushing one another’s limits until the other either bent or snapped, usually resulting in some depraved, borderline feral sex, or a vicious argument you had to diffuse. they both had big ego’s, though Cedric wasn’t as arrogant as Fred, and neither of them were ever willing to admit when they were wrong

⋆ but when they worked together, they were an unstoppable tsunami of charm and wit, and could get away with murder if they wanted to.

⋆ this quality was especially prevalent when they played Quidditch against one another. it always brought out that extra bit of hunger for the win, and you loved watching them try to out maneuver one another on the pitch.

⋆ despite their competitive bravado, you always noticed when Fred would purposefully send a bludger wide, appearing to miss Cedric when he was actually forcing his own teammates back, giving Cedric ample room to chase the snitch. George was in on it too, and they spent half the match protecting Cedric, the other half actually playing.

⋆ Fred could never stop himself from cheering when Cedric caught the snitch, though they’d save their post-victory celebrating for underneath the stands where you’d be waiting for them, half-mad with arousal in your handmade Diggory-Weasley jersey.

⋆ when Fred played particularly brutally, merciless with his Beater's bat, you and Cedric would fold like cheap paper, taking turns sloppily sucking his cock in the showers afterwards, eager to have Fred command you the way he did the game.

⋆ Cedric was rarely so submissive, preferring to hover somewhere just shy of dominant (where Fred was a full dominant), but when Fred got rough, it was game over for the sweet-natured Hufflepuff. he’d be right there in the sub trenches with you, completely at Fred’s mercy.

⋆ there's a good boy, Ced. doesn't it feel good to let go? let me take care you? you look so handsome choking on my cock.

⋆ you loved to watch Fred and Cedric kiss, the constant push and pull as they fought for the high ground. Fred wanted desperately to wrestle Cedric into submission, but Cedric would hold out purely because he could (and he loved the frustrated little sounds Fred made when he couldn’t physically overpower him).

⋆ Cedric was a rule-follower 95% of the time, you could hardly blame him for being disobedient when he had the opportunity.

⋆ they got so heated once, that Cedric accidentally drew blood, one of his sharp canines catching Fred’s tender lip just right, and you swore Fred nearly came in his pants. He went so feral, Cedric eventually had to tap out, his gorgeous cock completely spent and limp against his thigh, his chest and neck littered with bite marks and hickeys that lasted over a week.

⋆ since then, Fred developed the habit of chewing his lip when he was turned on, a dead giveaway that you and Cedric could spot from across the Great Hall, knowing you needed to find the nearest broom closet before Fred made a near-criminal public display of affection

⋆ Poor Cedric, you and Fred loved to drive him crazy with your mischief and rule breaking. Seeing him pink-cheeked and exacerbated, amusement threatening to curve his pretty mouth into a smile when he was trying so hard to be cross. As a Prefect, he had to uphold the highest moral standard, but as your boyfriend, he was willing to fudge the rules a bit if it meant you got to have a little fun.

⋆ parties always pushed Cedric's limits. you and Fred loved to partake in the ample substances circulating around the party, and it was often on Cedric to wrangle your impulses.

⋆ freddie, get down from there before you break your neck!

⋆ darling, please get off the table--no, you don't need that particular balloon. I'll get you a different one, okay?

⋆ Fredrick Gideon Weasley, I swear to Helena, if you don't put her down!

⋆ how about we put down the shots, baby--aaand there it goes. that's your fifth one--oh, for fuck's sake. six?!

⋆ Cedric was beautiful and popular, a fact that you and Fred were well acquainted with. Everyone liked Cedric, which meant everyone wanted a piece of him. His attention, his energy, his time. Cedric tried his best, but sometimes it felt like you and Fred were fighting upstream in a gold rush.

⋆ that being said, Cedric always made it known who he belonged to, whether it was wearing Fred's tie to class “by accident”, and leaving your lipstick print on his jaw for a little longer than necessary.

⋆ He wore a ring Fred found at an antique store on the proper finger, and never took off the necklace with your birthstone you’d given him for your one year anniversary.

⋆ it was challenging, dating two of the most popular boys at Hogwarts, though they were popular for entirely different reasons.

⋆ Fred was constantly pulled around by his enormous family, as well as devoted to the work of starting the joke shop with George.

⋆ And Cedric had a laundry list of responsibilities as a Prefect and Quidditch captain, and lofty goals for his own future.

⋆ so finding time together was damn near impossible, and when you went without it, you’d find yourself sulking, doubts and anxieties creeping in during their absence

⋆ both of them hated to see you unhappy, whether it was because of them, someone else, or just a bad brain day.

⋆ Fred would make it his personal mission to make you smile. he’d bring you little gifts and sweet treats, take you to all your favorite places, track down your favorite food. whatever you wanted, whatever you needed, he would go to the ends of the earth to get it for you. he had to fix it. he was the fixer.

⋆ how can I make it better? you're breaking my heart, sweet girl. let me fix this for you.

⋆ but when that didn’t work, Cedric would come in, slipping into bed beside you, uncaring if you’d been rotting there all day, dressed in old pj’s and unshowered. he’d hold you if that’s what you wanted, or just lay beside you, a comforting warmth at your side. sometimes he’d read aloud to you, rant with you, or cry with you.

⋆ he wouldn’t pry, wouldn’t push. he’d just exist with you, meeting you where you were at and holding space for your hurt, until you were ready for he and Fred to help fix it.

⋆ meeting their families was daunting as hell for you.

⋆ the Weasleys and the Diggorys were well acquainted, albeit very different families. with the Weasleys, there was roughly 85 thousand of them, but for Cedric, it was just him and his father.

⋆ the boys arranged for their families to have dinner together at the Burrow over the summer, a typical Sunday roast with a friendly round of Quidditch after the meal.

⋆ neither family (besides George, Ron, and Ginny) had any idea that it would actually be the dinner where Cedric and Fred fessed up about their relationship, and introduced you as their third.

⋆ to your delight, the Weasleys and Cedric’s father took it in stride. you knew Cedric had been super anxious about it, and seeing the relief on his face when his father gathered all three of you into a big hug had to be one of the happiest moments of your life.

⋆ your life with them was chaotic, full of adventure and fun, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

© agreeewrites 2025. do not copy, translate or claim my writing as your own.

[starlightshadowsworld]

Concept:

“Oh Kunikida finds out Dazai was a Port Mafia member and thinks less of him for it.”

Booo! Boring! Uninspired and factually incorrect.

The worse kind of incorrect.

Give me Kunikida learning Dazai was not only a Port Mafia member but an executive at that. Have him slowly turns to face his partner eyes shining with barely concealed rage.

“So you mean to tell me…that you’ve been fully cable of being a competent employee this WHOLE TIME!”

And watch as the light slowly leaves Dazai’s eyes.

Because oh they have an alliance now and naturally Kunikida made it his mission to learn the inner workings of the Port Mafia.

So that he could better coordinate things between them. And oh oh he learned that there’s many things they have in common.

And in any case one isn’t given such highly ranked position so lightly.

Mori starts bringing up the old Demon Prodigy and Dazai’s trying to kill him with his mind as Kunikida inquires about what responsibilities that kind of role requires.

Chuuya (because oh no the I know your every move goes both ways and revenge is sweet) instantly perks up and is more than happy to regale Kunikida in what it means to be an executive.

And now Dazai’s trying to kill him with his mind too because nooo Kunikida was never supposed to know I am fully capable of doing my job.

Because that’s the real reason he kept it a secret for so long.

Granted Kunikida always knew he was capable but now he has proof.

And so he keeps guilt tripping him into doing his job because “oh I see the Port Mafia has earned your work ethic and respect and I have not, no no it’s fine I see I am below even them.”

Everyone else instantly gets in on it like wow Dazai that’s kinda fucked up and they’re guilt tripping him and it’s cruel and evil.

And possibly working.

“Im serious I can’t do this report. It’s just yet it’s sooo difficult you know so maybe someone else should do it 🥺?”

“But if I was Mori Ougai you’d have completed your reports, wouldn’t you?”

“…I’ll have it done by the end of the day…”

“Thought so.”

[cheriladycl01]

Pushed Down and Down - Grid x Driver! Reader

Plot: Suffering with mental health issues as a driver isn’t easy - but when people actively don’t help it can only get worse.

Based on that one tiktok edit sound.

A/N: as someone who struggles with her own mental health this was a true comfort for me to write and reread. Drivers who talk about their mental health and how they do struggle literally have my whole heart (Lando, Lewis etc)

Warnings: Talk of mental health, depression, anxiety, etc, all drivers are a little mean to Y/N

From a very young age you were told you wouldn’t be able to do karting, and you wouldn’t get very far as it was strictly a man’s sport.

Your mum tried to sway your opinion as you were clearly the athletic type and get you into gymnastics or dancing. But the smell of the petrol and the adrenaline you got from going round the tracks was like nothing else.

Your dad on the other hand fully supported you, he was a mechanic so he did struggle to afford decent gear for you but you made do with what you had.

This however never stopped you, and as a child going into a teenager and young adult it didn’t affect you too much. You took your wins as and when they came and you worked hard for them and you took your losses as opportunity to learn from.

Oh how you wish you could go back to those days.

You proceeded to be asked in 2016 if you wanted to compete in British F4, you had your License and it seemed like you were this up and coming British talent.

You came 1st in the British F4 championship in 2017 right after Lando Norris and Max Fewtrell won the years before you. The two behind you being Oscar Piastri and Logan Sargeant. You didn’t win a race for the whole season, just pure consistency.

You then came third in the UAE F4 Championship in the same year. Oscar and Logan were also in that series with you. Logan being right on your toes coming in second place. This season you were close to taking your first win, but Logan had crashed you out taking the win for himself and leaving you down in P8.

Both Oscar and Logan of course moved up to bigger and better things in 2018. Both of them moving up to doing Eurocup Formula Renault whereas you weren’t offered anything.

In 2018 you competed in Formula 4 United States and came second place again. Your team let your American team-mate pass you on the last race of the season through team orders even though you were on equal points.

You took the loss and moved on because that just the kind of race driver you WERE.

In 2019 you were promoted to F3 and got to drive with Max Fewtrell, Logan Sargeant, Yuki Tsunoda and Liam Lawson. You came second and you actually were insanely close to Robert, but it never felt like a win. You were with Prema, and you fought tooth and nail.

In 2020, Oscar and Logan rejoined you in the feeder series and were in the same team as you as you remained with Prema.

Prema, unfortunately for you and Logan prioritised Oscar and with an insanely dominant year for Prema Oscar won the championship through the help of team orders. There were many chances for you to take wins but you knew you couldn’t get promoted to F2 just get, even though you spend to years in Prema and come second both times.

This was when Red Bull noticed you and backed you paying for the rest of your career which was lucky really considering your dad wouldn’t have been able to afford another season for you in F3 with all the debt he was already in.

2021 came around and Red Bull helped you further your career getting lots of sponsor shops along the way and finally securing you an F2 seat for the 2022 season.

In 2021 you finally won a championship, but you didn’t feel like it was a win. Everyone had something to say about this achievement, that you’d only won thanks to the team, and that it wasn’t driver capability. As a young 21 year old these comments really affected you going into the F2 season.

Once you got into F2 in 2022, you were head to head with Felipe Drugovich. Red Bull also came forward asking for you to become a reserve driver for Red Bull alongside your F2 driver Liam Lawson. You were back in the standings with Logan too, Oscar having won back to back championships and now becoming the golden goose on his route to F1 with Alpine.

This year halfway though the season you had to experience the unfortunate passing of your dad, the only true supporter you ever had. It was utterly dismal for the few races that came afterwards.

The season was closing out and there were only 3 points between you and Felipe with Theo and Liam not far behind. With a dramatic qually in Abu Dabi that had most of you at the back of the pack when starting the race, you prevailed winning the race and taking the championship.

You got out of that car celebrating only to see your team not there for you. You awkwardly celebrated with the team of the drivers from 2nd and 3rd place but you couldn’t understand why they weren’t there for you.

But he was there for you…

Christian Horner in his Red Bull team gear, white envelope in his hand that he presented you in the quiet room.

He was the first person to truly believe in you and see see potential apart from your dad and it was refreshing getting the contract that was going to sign you on as a rookie along with Oscar and Logan in the 2023 season.

F1

Liked by y/user, f1mia and others

f1: BREAKING: RedBull announce Y/N Y/L/N to drive for them in 2023 meaning all seats for the season have now been filled.

#f1 #redbull #womeninthepaddock

View all comments

user1: oh Lord I’ve followed her since F3, so proud of her!

y/user: this is a dream come true! I can finally tell my mum I made it!

lewishamilton: so proud of everything you’ve done to get women this far in the sport @y/user

user2: god they just keep on ruining this sport

redbullracing: So excited to have Y/N join us on the team!

-> y/user: I’m so thankful to you guys to be given the opportunity!

user2: oh this year is gonna slap.

maxverstappen1: welcome to the RedBull Family!

First was the Bahrain Grand Prix, it was your 3rd time in and F1 car and you were obviously very nervous. It was your first race weekend and you didn’t know where to place yourself.

The whole weekend didn’t really feel like your debut it just felt glazed over with Sergio Perez leaving and no longer being in F1. A lot of the team had hushed whispers around the situation, and Max tried his best to make you feel welcome but his awkwardness made that hard.

“So like what do you do, you drink beer?” Max awkwardly asks as you’d both been sat in the hospitality together waiting for Christian or one of the engineers to come grab you.

“Oh erm, no I don’t drink at all actually” you smile with a little furrow in your brows.

“Oh … right” Max sighs and thankfully that conversation was cut short when Christian came round the corner to collect you both.

You both were racing and for a rookie you had incredible tyre management making the agreed one stop strategy seemingly start to work despite the temperature on track. You were very quick, maybe even more quick than Max.

However coming out the pits, your tires are already starting to complain and tyre marbles are going left right and center.

Y/N Radio: What happened guys, my tyres are degrading so quickly I thought we agreed on hards?

Static was all that was received back.

Y/N Radio: Guys did you put me on softs?

Race Engineer: Sorry Y/N mess up at the pits, pit in 5 laps.

And once word got out to the other teams that they’d fucked up your race strategy and that you were basically free game your race was pretty much over.

P4 wasn’t bad considering the mistakes made, but you knew you’d could have gotten a podium on your first race.

“Y/N amazing first race in F1 you really know how to make an entrance to the sport huh?” The interviewer says cheerfully happy that you’ve done as well as you did.

“Yeah” you say with a smile.

“Not happy with the result it seems?” She pushes and you sigh.

“I’m of course so happy, getting P4 was amazing and I know my team are happy and I’ve made eveyone at home really proud. Thank you dad and I hope you’re watching! But it’s always a little … disappointing? I don’t really know if that’s the right word for how I’m feeling right now, when the outlook of something is going so well and external forces out or your control tamper with that it’s not a nice feeling. I’m really proud of the team today and of course Max had a great win today so we collected a lot of points for the team and remain top in the constructors” you explain and she nods slightly shocked with how open and honest you had been.

Eventually you were taken away by your PR manager who was starting to worry about what you were saying, a little scolding that you weren’t sure what for afterwards.

People spoke too, Lando and Oscar shocked you most.

“Y/N was kinda dangerous on track today, can’t believe she was that ballsy as a rookie man” Oscar said having know you the best driving with you for as long as he had.

“She’s talented for sure but I can’t help but feel like she’s gonna wash out” Lando admits with a sigh.

Was he right, would you have one good season and then that was it?

Things went the same in Saudi this time you managed to place your car in pole position, leading the race while Max had an unfortunate start from P15.

However after team orders came in to let Max take over once he got to a close enough gap behind you made you obey the team, not wanting to get on their nerves and make them regret choosing you. After that a botched pit stop and Oscar driving like a lunatic and bumping into your side left you down from P2 to P6

“Y/N what an incredible drive despite all that happened and you’ve hauled some good points for the team! How are you feeling?” The interviewer asks pushing the mic closer to you.

“Hot, I’m so hot right now” you joke trying to lighten the mood, wiping the sweat away from your forehead.

“Yeah I can’t imagine with this heat and the fact that the car is incredibly warm here” she smiles back and you take a breath before answering the second question.

“Yeah I mean today didnt go as planned. I got pole, I was on track to win, I did everything right but I just don’t think it was meant to be today and you know I’m going to fight really hard in Australia and see where we can get us hopefully something better than what I’m doing now” you say with a polite tight lipped smile and nod before going to the call down room.

You sat against the cold plastic door of the room head against it as you held in your tears. You always told yourself to never cry over a loss as you can’t expect to win them all. But this was supposed to be your race and you can’t help but feel like if you had Max behind you defending the incidents with the pits stop wouldn’t have occurred as you wouldn’t have done that second pit stop that cost you time.

In debrief you couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Are you kidding?” You laugh looking towards Max and then back at Christian.

“You didn’t move out the way from Max quick enough and you should have caught up quicker! What were you even thinking out there colliding with Piastri like that!” Horner announces making your cheeks flush a little red from embarrassment.

You didn’t think the collision with Oscar was your fault, but maybe it was.

Then you’d heard Daniel talking to Carlos, and your thoughts continued to spiral.

“She’s a tricky one mate, can’t see her having that seat for long” Daniel admitted to Carlos at the restaurant they were at with some of the other drivers.

Y/N was sad when she didn’t get an invite seeing as many of them were there but she didn’t take it to heart having fun eating alone while people watching.

“Yeah, I wonder how many times they have to tell her team orders” Carlos had added.

The next race was Australia.

You had the faster car, better starts and you beat Max going into turn one. It was a ballsy move on your part but it was clean racing, no damage done.

Race Engineer: Y/N give back position now

Y/N Radio: But I have the faster car Zayn, I got fresher tyres and my deg is fine. I have the stats don’t tell me I’m wrong when I’m the one in the car

Race Engineer: Y/N Max is fighting for the championship, team orders slow down and give position back

And so you did, you gave Max his position back and trailed behind him creating a DRS train behind you, Hamilton and Alonso not being able to pass you to potentially overtake Max.

After this race you started to keep a mental health diary and your coach thought it would be a good idea to see a therapist to help with your quick thinking and decision making on track, of course not for your mental health and you start to struggle with coming to the terms that Max needs a second driver and that’s what Red Bull hired you for.

So you became his second driver.

Constantly being criticised by the team and Horner, constantly having Max tell you that you need to be a second driver for the season and that’s it. Nothing else. Having interviewers wondering why you keep having these near misses.

When your home Grand Prix the British Grand Prix came around you’d just about had enough of being called a second driver. You took matters into your own hands. You spend hours in the sim working out the best angle for the corners of Silverstone and seeing how much you could push the provisional car down the straights.

When it came to qualifying you smashed everyone out the park in all three sectors. The media were buzzing at your stone face for the duration of the weekend.

“Y/N what an amazing qualifying for you, you were really flying out there. And your starting on pole tomorrow with Max behind you, is there going to be team orders to let him through?” The interviewer asks smiling at you.

“I mean there have been the whole season no?” You laugh with less sparkle and glimmer in your eyes than the start of the season.

“Yes, so you’re saying Max will be let ahead tomorrow!” She asks and cock your head to one side.

“He’ll be asked yes” you nod before you leave.

Race day came and you did not listen to team orders.

Race Engineer: Y/N let Max through, then we’ll pit you first to defend the lead while Max pits.

Y/N: what about, no? Come on guys, I’ve done everything for the team you’ve wanted me for. Just let me race him.

Race Engineer: Max will race you too hard, you risk loosing both the cars Y/N let him through.

Y/N: im sorry, but i have to do this for me, to prove I’m as good a driver as i try to be.

Race Engineer: Y/N don’t do this.

And with that you celebrated your first race win. Max had ended up DNFing when he got a little caught behind and skidded onto the gravel trap trying to make up too much time to catch you.

It was a full Brit Podium, you Lando and Lewis. You were thankful you had both of them there to celebrate with you as your team didn’t show up again. Probably all consoling Max on his first DNF of the year. He wasn’t happy at all and you could tell.

“Are you okay?” Lewis had asked you as you guys had stepped away from the podium. The man wasn’t blind and could see the disappointment on your face when no one was there to congratulate you on your first win and celebrate with you.

“M’fine” you say shortly before leaving and going straight to your drivers room, tears following. You spend hours writing away in your self help book. But you couldn’t wallow it was time to take on the words of Taylor Swift in her Reputation Era.

You never thought something you loved so dearly could kill of your spirit so quickly and easily. But Max go tougher as the season went on. Only allowing you one more win in spa where you once again ignored team orders. Max was incredibly unhappy with you up there on the podium and you just knew the media would have something to say about the awful tension between you and Max. He didn’t celebrate with you in Spa only the third place podium which happened to be Charles.

The Red Bull team member immediately celebrated with Max and Charles, as much as you tried to join in however you weren’t able to get close enough. You were royally fucked off.

Singapore felt like a breath of fresh air for you when it happened, it was a new feeling that had your toes curling as you pressed on the brakes knowing that Carlos and Lando were leading with you hot on their tales and Max being nowhere in sight.

Celebrating with them felt different, but everyone could tell that the happy bubbly girl who they’d started the season with was no longer apparent.

The season closed, and honestly your team, Max and Christian all seemed like 2024 wasn’t worth sticking around for … as a great driver you owed it yourself to find your worth in F1 and that wasn’t with Red Bull

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[klausysworld]

Can you do a story where reader has been bullied her whole life from Caroline and she’s always been the second choice, since klaus came into town she’s always had a crush on him and he knew about it , when the ball came around and klaus took Caroline instead of yn she was really upset and Caroline could see that and humiliates her infront of everyone including klaus and klaus goes after her and comforts her you can choose what happens after thank you sm!!

I Could Never Compete

Caroline had always made a point of being better than me.

Whether it was turning my friends against me, taking cheer captain from me or stealing Tyler, my boyfriend from me. The worst part wasn't even that she did those things but that she did them just so she could publicly make fun of me for them.

"I mean, what are you even gonna do during the summer? It's not like she have any friends left." She'd make sure to say loud enough for Elena and Bonnie to hear, making them stare right at me. She told Elena that I tried to make-out with Matt whilst they were together and she told Bonnie that I was making fun of her for being abandoned by her mother. Neither were true, at all but I couldn't exactly prove it and Caroline only had to tell the lie to a few other people before everyone was believing it.

"Please, you've let yourself go. That's why you can't be captain anymore, just look at yourself. The whole squad knows it." She'd tell me in front of all the girls on the team and trying out for the team. It made me angry because I knew I was actually better than her in this but she made everyone think I was useless. I had been training years more than her, a hundred times harder. My diet was to make sure I could compete in cheer and dance, ballet specifically which she also had to get into and when we were little she pushed me over so my ankle was hurt and she could do swan lake instead of me.

"You didn't really think that someone could love you? Even like you when I'm in the picture? Tyler's stupid but he's not that thick. He has eyes and he has a dick and he knows what's better for both. I bet he didn't even want to touch you, you ugly pig." She spat. We were at a party and Tyler had tried to apologise to me but she cut in. Everyone went silent and watched as my face went red and my eyes blurred with tears. It was Stefan that lead me away, it was at his house after all. But I think he was the first person to imply that he didn't believe all of the things said about me and he told me that Elena had questioned the rumours to him. I should have been relieved that someone believed me but the effects had already happened and the truth probably wouldn't make my life any easier at that point so I just thanked him and went home.

I don't really know why I thought Klaus would be different, maybe because she already had Tyler and that should've been enough? Of course not.

But I didn't expect it from Klaus. He's over a thousand and surely much more mature than a teenage boy tempted by another girl. It hurt me when Tyler cheated, obviously it did, however I could make sense of that. I couldn't make sense of what Caroline could have said or done to make Klaus switch up so easily.

Especially with how he'd been.

I hadn't really loved Tyler but I think that I had actually fallen for Klaus. It wasn't just the drawings and the priceless gifts, but it was the way he looked at me and the softness he spoke with that he never seemed to use with anyone else. His touch was always just right, even when he was getting rough he was never forceful like Tyler got. He still knew not to grab too harsh or push too hard. There was something natural about being with him which made everything seem so effortless.

I guess I noticed him being a little different when his family was undaggered and awake but that was expected with the amount of stress he was under. Still, he had mentioned me meeting his mother and even told me about the ball.

There was no reason I wouldn't have gone.

I didn't have as much money as Caroline and Elena and Bonnie with their lovely big houses and hundreds of outfits. I wasn't struggling as bad as Matt anymore but I wasn't exactly stable either.

Which meant that getting a dress to be able to go to the ball and feel comfortable was really difficult for me but I made sure I did it so that I wouldn't embarrass him or myself in front of his family. I made sure not to eat the day before and the day of so that there was zero chance of bloating and I spent hours making sure I was ready before paying a taxi to take me.

I think I probably should have known something wasn't quite right when Klaus didn't even offer me a dress. Not in an entitled way but just because it was unusual for him not to. He told me he enjoyed knowing he had provided those nice things for me and that he liked knowing he was the reason for the smile on my face.

Again, the entire situation was so huge for him that I didn't expect things like that.

But I also didn't expect to walk in through those double doors and see his hand cupping her face and her gloved hands in his chest.

I could feel the lump in my throat forming, my heart racing and the humiliation already hitting.

Caroline turned her head, the loose pieces of curled hair swaying beautifully beside her face as she looked right at me, cruel smile on her lips and sadistic glint in her eyes. Klaus was still looking at her, probably admiring how the blue of the dress complimented her hair and eyes.

It was in that moment that everything she had ever called me felt real. I felt ugly, I felt cheap, I felt fat. I wanted my skin to peel off and reveal a completely different person, someone who could actually compete with Caroline's beauty.

I took a step back, ready to retreat home but I bumped into someone with a tray of champagne making the glass smash everywhere. I felt a piece dig into my ankle and it prompted a tear that was already waiting in my eye to finally cascade down my face.

When I glanced back up Klaus was hurrying toward me, his eyes holding that softness as both his hands went to my shoulders. I caught feel my breathe catching in my throat, barely escaping my chest as he tried to say something.

Caroline's hand was on his arm, pulling his hand away from me as she let out an amused scoff. "God. You literally can't get any more pathetic Y/N." She told me, her eyes scanning me over making her raise an unimpressed brow. "Ew." She stated simply. "Could have at least made an effort, no wonder he wants me-"

"Don't listen to a word out of her. Come on, love, we'll go upstairs and-" He tried to cut in but Caroline wasn't having it.

"Don't hush me. You invited me here. You gave me everything I'm wearing and you practically promised to help me take it off later." Caroline spat and I couldn't stop the cry that bubbled from my mouth. It physically hurt.

"Y/N!" I heard him yell but I wasn't there, I was outside, my heels in my hands as I went barefoot whilst running down the concrete. My breathing was fast and I refused to look back but that didn't stop him from appearing in front of me, his arms holding my against his chest as I tried to shove him off. "Please, love, please." He whispered, his tight firm so I couldn't move making me relent and just cry in his hold instead. My legs went and he was knelt on the cold floor, holding my up so the soles of my feet weren't still pressed against the tiny stones and chunks of dirt.

"Why would you bring her and not me?" I sobbed into his chest and his hands gripped me firmly.

"My mother had me invite her...I didn't imply it being anything other than platonic-"

"You gave her a dress and you held her face. You want her!" I yelled at him but he just wouldn't admit it.

"We're going to your house and I'm going to fix this, love." He told me, standing up and adjusting his hold on me before we were inside my house a second or two later.

He put me down and I was heading up stairs immediately but he was pulling me back and pleading me to sit down.

"I want out of this stupid dress, Klaus. I want it off, I want to burn it." I sniffed, my hand messily wiping the tear from my face.

"It's a beautiful dress." He whispered, his hands holding my waist so I couldn't leave. I looked up at him, his eyes as sad as mine as he leaned down to kiss my cheek and the corner of my mouth. "I shouldn't have invited her, I should have told my mother no. I should have sent you a dress and I should have picked you up myself. I'm sorry, I promise you that I'm sorry." He uttered, his hands sliding up to my face.

"I don't care that you didn't spend your stupid money on me." I whimpered and he looked down for a second.

"I know...I know, but I was going to and I didn't. I know it wouldn't have been easy for you to-"

"I handled it just fine. I got a dress and I got there, all you had to do was be there for me and you weren't, you were there with and for her."

"I wasn't. I don't want her, I don't ever even talk to her. I love you, you have to know that." His head was shaking as he spoke and his eyes were flickering between blue and gold.

"I can't compete with Caroline, Klaus, you know that." I whispered and his hand rested on the back of my head, pulling me close so our foreheads were touching.

"There is no competition. There never was and there never will be. You're mine, and I'm yours. We're gonna go upstairs and lay down and we'll stay there until you feel better, okay?" He murmured, pulling me along with him making me stumble at the reminder of the splinters in my skin and the glass by my ankle. "Fuck. Okay, c'mere." He mumbled, picking me back up and taking me up the stairs and putting me down on the bed.

"Laying here isn't going to make anything better, Klaus." I sighed, trying to ignore the pain as he grabbed the tweezers from my drawer and cleaned me up.

"Then we'll go somewhere, we'll go to Europe and I'll take you to France and Greece and Spain- Italy!" He listed, clearly getting more and more stressed as he bit his hand and let the blood drip into a glass of water, his finger swirled it round before he was urging me to drink it, holding my legs in his hands to watch the wounds disappear.

"I don't care about those places, I just cared about you." I sniffled and he frowned, laying down beside me and pulling me onto him.

"You still care about me now. I know you do and some stupid girl isn't ruining that. I don't love often but I love you and you're not going anywhere." He stated, no room for argument as his tone got colder.

His eyes resoftened when he looked back at me and he just wouldn't let go of me until I told him it was okay.

I wondered if it had been any other girl, if I would have felt as bad as I did now. Was there something wrong with me? Or was Caroline just that perfect?