#and obviously there was all the other shit that went down they glossed over in two sentences wtf

[chiosblog]

It's truly beautiful seeing amazing queer artists winning this year at eurovision but it's also truly painful seeing all of my country's newspapers and online news misgender them multiple times 😡😡

[itneverendshere]

ooo what about reader getting jealous over brothers best friend! rafe … maybe at like a party or something u know they love a good hallway randevu also when they gonna admit they like each other i cant with the longing im like a dog in heat i need my babies together already

some fights you're never gon' win, just keep your eyes off him- r.c (+18)

pairing: kelce's sister! x hockey!rafe warnings: smut; angst (just a little); they like to fuck in public spaces MY BAD

You weren’t the jealous type, never had been.

You’d had boyfriends before, hooked up with guys, even had a situationship or two that never quite made it to the finish line, thank god. But you never cared about what they did outside of you.

You never felt that ugly, possessive twist in your gut when they so much as talked to another girl. You didn’t keep tabs on past hookups, didn’t lurk at parties, watching who they left with. You didn’t waste time wondering if they were thinking about you when they were with someone else.

It just wasn’t you.

And yet—

The sound of Katherine Hughes’ voice made your skin crawl.

You had only gone to the bathroom to fix your lip gloss, but the second you stepped in, you saw her standing at the mirror, practically pouting.

Her friend leaned against the sink, clearly exasperated. “You’re really still mad about it?”

Katherine huffed, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “I just don’t get it. Last year, Rafe—”

Your body went still, nearly dropping your lip combo on the floor.

“—he was all over me.” She ran a hand down her torso like she was admiring herself. “I know I’m his type. He literally shoved me off his lap."

Wait— she sat on his lap? At camp? Who the fuck does she think she is? And more importantly— why didn’t he tell you? Then again, why would he tell you?

Her friend rolled her eyes. “Maybe he’s just over it.”

Katherine scoffed. “He’s a guy. They don’t just get over good sex.”

You knew he had a past, you did too, you weren’t naive. But still

Her friend laughed. “Oh my God, shut up. How long was it again?”

Katherine smirked, a slow, satisfied thing. “Two hours.”

Your stomach twisted into na ugly shade of green.

You didn’t care. This wasn’t you—jealousy, possessiveness, the kind of messy, insecure shit you always swore you’d never fall into. Two hours, not twenty minutes, not a drunken mistake, not some meaningless, forgettable fling.

You forced yourself to breathe, fixing your lip gloss, to keep your face neutral even as your heart pounded. It was stupid, so stupid. This was old news, before you. Right?

Her friend’s eyes widened. “Wait, was that in the hot tub?”

Katherine’s smirk deepened.

“Obviously.” She sighed dramatically. “I don’t know what changed. I thought for sure when I saw him at camp this year, we’d pick up right where we left off. But he rejected me.”

That ugly jealousy turned into something stupidly satisfying, you knew you were fucked when you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling like a vindictive bitch. Rafe had been at hockey camp last week, he had been surrounded by the same girls at hockey camp this year—had the chance to do it all over again.

He could’ve had her again.

But he didn’t, he said no and came back to you the second his feet touched the campus grounds.

Not that it mattered, it didn’t change the fact that he had touched her at all. That was the part you couldn’t ignore, it wasn’t that she had him first—she was the type of girl Rafe had always gone for.

The exact opposite of you.

Why didn’t he tell you? Not that you ever asked, not that you wanted to hear about every girl who ever touched him. Suddenly, you weren’t just picturing them together. You were hearing it. Feeling it, like a splinter wedging deeper under your skin.

You weren’t just different from the girl he used to date, you were the opposite of them, and as stupid as it was, as irrational as it felt, the insecurity stuck under your skin like velcro. 

You knew your worth, had seen the way men fell over themselves for you, their voices dropped an octave when they spoke to you, their hands got restless, needing an excuse to touch you. But you never liked them enough to second guess yourself.

You hated that it hurt, it was so stupid of you.

You hadn’t even been with Rafe last year. Shit, you were probably with someone else at the time. You weren’t some virginal, untouched thing waiting for him to realize you were right in front of him.

But none of that mattered, because you’d already come to terms with your feelings. You liked him, liked him so much it made your stomach act up.

By the time you made it back downstairs, your mood was shit.

The music was too loud, and you didn’t want to be here anymore. You spotted your group in the corner—your brother, his teammates, Kie laughing at something JJ was saying—but your focus zeroed in on the one person already watching you.

Rafe.

His brows furrowed instantly, not giving time to fake a smile before he was moving through the crowd without hesitation. You hardly made it two steps toward the couch before he was in front of you, ducking his head to meet your eyes.

Stupid height.

“What happened?” 

You didn’t want to answer or admit that some stupid conversation in a bathroom had gotten to you.

You rolled your eyes, brushing past him. “Nothing.”

He didn’t buy it, following you without hesitation, his fingers brushing against your wrist. His face was frustratingly serious, like whatever was bothering you had become his problem the second he saw it.

“Princess,” he murmured, using that tone that usually got you to fold like a pretzel. “You were fine five minutes ago.”

You dropped onto the couch, crossing your arms. “I’m fine now.”

Rafe snorted, settling beside you, thigh pressing against yours.

“Yeah, sure.” He tipped his head, studying you. “Did someone say something to you?”

You’d rather die than let him get the embarrassing information out of you. This wasn’t like you, you didn’t let jealously could your judgment.

“No.”

“Who? Do I have to punch another guy?”

“No one.” You stared at the drink in your hand.

Rafe scoffed. “That’s a lie.”

“Would you drop it?”

“Not a chance.”

You exhaled sharply, tipping your head back against the couch. “It’s stupid, Rafe. Let it go.”

Rafe snorted, settling beside you, thigh pressing against yours.

“Yeah, sure.” He tipped his head, studying you. His toned arm settled along the back of the couch, fingers trailing lazily across your shoulder. “Then why are you pouting?”

Your head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. “I’m not pouting.”

He grinned, “You are, though.”

He just looked so soft, so amused, fond, and it made your stomach squeeze in a way you hated. His fingers brushed your jaw, tilting your chin just enough to meet his eyes.

“Talk to me,” he murmured, a quiet, earnest plea.

Your lips parted, but you didn’t know how to say it without sounding crazy or revealing how deep he’d already gotten under your skin.

“No wonder people think you two are dating. Can y’all scoot over and stop touching?”

Your face burned instantly at your brother’s lack of inner voice, and you moved slightly, but Rafe? The asshole just smirked, draping his arm over the back of the couch again, still playing with your braids.

Half the school already thought you were dating, the other half knew it was a joke, but no one knew you were sleeping together.

Well—maybe Kie. But no one else.

Your brother just shook his head, going back to his conversation about Star Wars with Pope, while Rafe leaned in, “You’re gonna make everyone think the rumors are true.”

You scoffed, shoving his hand away. “Shut up.”

You knock back the rest of your shitty mixed drink, hoping the burn do something to you. It didn’t.

“C’mon,” he said suddenly, standing and reaching for your wrist.

You hesitated. “Where are we going?”

“We need more drinks,” he said easily, flashing a charming smile at your brother before tugging you up.

You knew better.

You knew Rafe well enough to know that wasn’t why he was pulling you away, he was already guiding you through the throng of people toward the kitchen, grip firm, and within seconds, you were stepping into the quieter kitchen, away from prying eyes.

Rafe turned to face you, leaning against the counter . “So, are you gonna tell me what’s got you looking like you wanna kill someone, or do I have to guess?”

You crossed your arms. “I told you, it’s stupid.”

“Don’t care.”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t. You just don’t want me to know.”

Your breath hitched, and his smirk widened.

Bastard.

“You gonna keep standing there glaring at me, or you gonna tell me?” he pushed, stepping closer.

You should’ve walked away, but he was too close now, fingers already playing with the hem of your skirt, his breath warm against your temple. Your body betrayed you, leaning in instead of pulling back, craving his touch more than your next breath.

You had always been the problem—wanting too much from someone who probably didn’t even think about you half as much as you thought about him.

“Katherine.”

Rafe blinked. “What?”

You clenched your jaw. “Katherine. Hughes.”

Recognition dawned in his eyes before something else flashed across his face—and then— he laughed.

You shoved at his chest, pretending his pecs didn’t make you want to let him fuck you against the counter. “Fuck you, Rafe.”

“Relax,” He caught your wrist easily, his thumb pressing against your pulse point. “You jealous?”

No. Yes. God, yes. You hated the thought of him with someone else, hated that he had the power to make you feel like this. You wanted him in a way that scared you, a way that made you feel dizzy and reckless and so completely gone for him you hated it.

“No,” you snapped.

His smirk deepened. “You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

You huffed, trying to yank your wrist free, but he didn’t let you go. Instead, he reeled you in, forcing you to look up at him. Your heart pounded against your will, screaming at you to give in, and stop pretending like he wasn’t exactly what you wanted.

“Two hours? Really?”

“You mad about the time, or the girl?”

Your jaw tightened. “Neither.”

“Right.” He dragged the word out, playing with the hem of your skirt again, content with just standing there, crowding your space, keeping you close “So you don’t care that she’s talking about it? Saying my name, braggin’ about it like it meant somethin’?”

You rolled your eyes. “Why would I care? We weren’t even—” You stopped yourself, hating the way your voice wavered.

Rafe hummed, fingers trailing higher, teasing the inside of your wrist. “We weren’t what?”

You didn’t do this, get insecure over some girl talking shit in a bathroom, and you sure as hell didn’t let men get in your head.

“I’m done talking about it,” You grabbed a red solo cup and poured yourself another drink, pretending you didn’t feel him watching your every move.

Rafe let the silence sit for a second before he spoke again, “Y’know she don’t got shit on you, right?”

Your hands stilled.

“She doesn’t,” he continued easily, “Not last year, not this year, not ever.”

You turned to him slowly, narrowing your eyes.

“Did you—” You hesitated, your stomach tightening, but you forced yourself to ask. “Did you sleep with her again? At camp?”

Rafe’s head jerked back like the thought alone offended him. “Fuck no.” He reached for your hip, tugging you in, molding his body against yours, lips ghosting over your ear. “You wanna know why?”

You swallowed. “No.”

“Because I was thinking about you.”

His grip on your wrist loosened, but he didn’t let go, his fingers sliding up to lace through yours.

Friends with benefits, that was the deal, it had been easy, simple (no, it hadn't). You weren’t supposed to think too hard about what it meant, because it didn’t mean shit.

You straightened your spine, pulling away to get some space. 

“You’re single, Rafe. You can sleep with whoever you want.”

The words felt like poison on your tongue, but you said them anyway.

His grip tightened before he forced himself to let go, clicking his tongue in annoyance. 

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

His nostrils flared, and for a second, you thought he might snap—but he never did, not with you.

“Talk like that. Like I don’t give a shit.”

You swallowed. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

You had settled for this—late-night or early morning sneaking around, whispered conversations in the dark, pretending like it didn’t mean something to you.

You were scared of ruining everything, of losing him, of making things weird with your brother. You hated this, how he looked at you, he was waiting for you to say something you weren’t ready to admit. 

Rafe groaned, pulling back just enough to look at you, exasperated.

“Princess, I don’t even remember what it was like.”

You lifted a brow. “Two hours and you don’t remember?”

His lips twitched. “The only time I care about is the time I spend with you.”

Corny. Stupid. But effective.

He took the cup from your hand, setting it down before gripping your chin, and tilting your face up.

“I’d do two hours with you, though,” he mused, deliberately, enjoying the way your breath hitched. “Maybe three.”

“Rafe—”

He leaned in, brushing his nose against yours, a taunting almost kiss. “Might make you beg for four.”

“You love pissin’ me off, don’t you?”

“A little.”

He knew exactly what you wanted from him, even if you were too stubborn to admit it. You scowled, yanking your wrist again, but his other hand found the small of your back. You loved how easily he manhandled you.

“You mad?” His voice was soft.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignor your skin burning where he touched you. “No.”

“Yeah?” He dipped his head, his lips brushing against your temple. “You sure?”

Your fingers curled into fists. He smelled so good, like cedar and expensive cologne, you wanted to drown in. It made you dizzy, it made you stupid.

You swallowed, exhaling through your nose. “I don’t care.”

His lips brushed lower, the edge of your jaw this time, a ghost of a kiss that sent your stomach into knots. “Mmm.”

You felt the smirk against your skin before he pulled back enough to look at you, eyes burning into yours. You were so fucked.

“You gonna admit it? That you’re jealous?”

You lifted your chin, eyes narrowing. “You wish.”

You wanted him to kiss you, shove you against the counter and make you forget every single thing that had you in your head five minutes ago. You wanted him to ruin you in every possible way—because, at this point, wasn’t he already?

“It didn’t mean anything.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does if it’s making you look at me like that.”

His fingers pressed, against the pulse at your throat. God, how was he so good at this? At getting under your skin? At knowing exactly what to say to make you melt?

“You’re still thinking about it:”

“I’m not.” You tilted your head away, a mistake, because it let him drag his lips along your throat, featherlight, ruining you.

He hummed, not believing you for a second. You think it was the way he held you, or how your brain was fried from the way his fingers splayed against your back, pressing you into his chest, but suddenly, you couldn’t shut up.

“It’s just—” You exhaled sharply, hating how the words came out unfiltered. “It’s not even about her, okay? It’s just—she’s really pretty.”

Rafe pulled back just enough to look at you, brows slightly raised.

You kept going, couldn’t stop now.

“I mean, maybe it’s just me, but I don’t like the idea of being one of many—”

You barely had time to yelp before Rafe moved, hands curling around your waist as he lifted you like you weighed nothing, squirming against him in protest.

“Rafe!”

You gasped as your ass met the cool marble of the counter, legs automatically parting as he stepped between them, caging you in.

His hands spread over your thighs, his grip possessive, “Who the fuck said you were ‘one of many’?”

You glared, mouth opening—probably to be a brat, deflect, keep running—but Rafe wasn’t having it. His hands flexed against your skin, fingers digging in enough to make you inhale sharply.

“You think I do this for anyone?” His nose skimmed yours, so close you could taste his breath. “That I look at anyone else the way I look at you?”

He leaned in, lips ghosting over yours, so close it was agonizing.

“Look at me."

You did, you shouldn’t have.

Rafe had always kissed you like he meant it—needy, but this was different. His mouth slanted over yours, stealing the breath from your lungs, tongue sweping against your lower lip, before slipping inside to taste you.

You felt his broad chest against yours, his fingers digging into your waist, one hand curled around the back of your neck, tilting your head so he could kiss you the way he wanted to, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek with tenderness.

His other hand gripped your thigh, yanking you closer, leg over his waist, until there wasn’t even a sliver of space between you.

And God, his mouth—You wondered if he wanted you to feel him, know him in a way no one else ever had. His lips parted just enough to let out a needy groan, your hands weren’t much better.

You clawed at him—at his shoulders, at his hair— pulling, as the kiss spun you further into something overwhelming.

“Y’think I could ever fuckin’ touch them like this?” His voice was all gravel, punctuated by the way his lips traced a desperate path on your skin, his teeth scraping, nipping, “Could ever kiss anyone like this?”

He kissed you again, deeper this time, coming out in soft, needy groans between kisses. 

“OH MY FUCKING GOD—MY EYES! WHAT THE HELL?!”

You didn’t have a second to register your brother’s voice before Rafe groaned against your mouth, forehead falling to your shoulder as he exhaled sharply.

You, on the other hand, scrambled to push at his chest, heart pounding. Your lips were swollen, still tasting Rafe on your tongue.

Kelce made a gagging noise from the doorway.

“Seriously! Seriously?! In the kitchen? Where I eat? My sister, really?!”

Oh God. You ruined it.

Your eyes burned. “Kelce, I—” You stammered, hands tightening on Rafe’s shoulders without thinking. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—”

Kelce groaned, dragging a hand down his face, and your breath hitched, chest tightening with guilt. He was going to kill Rafe, he was going to kill him, and then he was never going to speak to you again, and their entire friendship was—

“Oh, my God, stop looking like you’re about to cry,” Kelce cut in, exasperated. “I knew y’all were gonna do this eventually, but in the kitchen? That’s so nasty.”

You blinked.

Rafe snorted.

Kelce pointed at him immediately. “Don’t laugh. I’m not over this. I’m in shock. I need time. I need alcohol.” He spun on his heel, muttering under his breath. “I knew this was coming, but did they let me prepare? No. No, they did not.”

You stared at Kelce like he was the dumbest person alive.

“You’re not mad?”

Kelce stopped mid-stride, turning back with a look of pure disbelief.

“Mad?” He scoffed. “Oh, I was��mad a month ago when I first realized y’all had this weird, unresolved tension. But I worked through it. I processed it.” He gestured vaguely between you and Rafe. “I’ve had time to grieve.”

Your mouth dropped open. “Grieve?”

“Yes! My best friend and my sister! Of course, I grieved! I had to come to terms with the inevitable—but did I expect to walk into my kitchen and witness a live-action Bridgerton scene? No! No, I did not! I’m traumatized!”

You swore he was obessed with that show.

Rafe nuzzled into you like he wasn’t the reason your brother was spiraling. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t usually kiss her in the kitchen.”

You shoved him, feeling your face heat. “Rafe!”

“I’m leaving. I need to bleach my eyes, and if either of you ever do this in a common area again, I’m calling Mom.”

Your stomach dropped. “You wouldn’t.”

Kelce’s eyes gleamed with pure older brother menace. “Try me.”

Rafe grinned against your jaw, “You sound a little dramatic, man.”

Kelce threw up his hands. “Yeah? Well, tell me how you’d feel walking in on me sucking face with your sister, huh?”

Rafe’s whole body went stiff. “I’d kill you.”

Kelce clapped his hands together. “Exactly! Thank you!” He pointed a finger at Rafe as he backed away toward the living room. “Y’all need to relocate. Immediately.” He turned on you. “And I need so much therapy for this.”

The second Kelce’s footsteps faded down the hall, Rafe’s mouth was on you again. You didn’t have time to breathe before he devoured you.

“You still think I want anyone else?”

 “I just—” You tried to speak, but he didn’t let you. His teeth caught your bottom lip, tugging to make you whimper, and the sound made him groan like it was his favorite fucking thing in the world.

Your head fell back against the cabinets, hips arching into him, chasing his body. He was so big, caging you in, making you feel small in the best way, and it was driving you crazy.

“Say it, baby,” Rafe rasped, dragging his lips back up to your ear. “Tell me you know.”

It was so easy now.

His hands pushed under your skirt, finding the soft lace underneath. It’s why you wear them more now—skirts, the tiny little panties that barely cover anything—because it meant Rafe could take what he wanted faster.

And fuck, did he want you.

"Always so ready for me, huh?" he murmured.

You whimpered, shifting your hips, silently begging for him to move, to stop fucking around, and he laughed. 

"Lucky me," he mused, finally slipping a finger inside.

You nodded—not thinking, just chasing the way his touch made you feel.

"Words," he ordered, slipping another finger in, slow and teasing.

"Yes," You gasped, body arching against his. "Always for you, Rafe. Always—"

You broke off into a moan when he added a third, stretching you right, curling in that way that made your knees weak, pumping his fingers harder, faster, pressing his palm against your clit. He was hard against your thigh, you yelped at the friction, rocking against him, chasing the release you knew he was going to drag out—because he loved to watch you fall apart for him.

"Rafe," You breathed, pawing at his belt. "Please, I need—"

But the door swong open for the second time.

A sharp, choked inhale—like someone just got punched in the stomach.

Your lashes fluttered open, and there she was..

Katherine.

Standing in the doorway, eyes darting between you and Rafe, lips parting like she was trying to find the words. But here’s the thing—Rafe didn’t stop, didn’t even notice her.

His fingers, if anything, he curled them deeper, pressing up against that perfect spot inside you that had your knees buckling. Your moan was breathy, desperate, and you didn’t bother quieting it—why would you?

Katherine was still standing there, eyes blown wide, her mouth opening and closing like she was trying to say something. Ohhh, now she got it, she understood why Rafe never wanted her.

You tilted your head, watching her as Rafe dragged his lips down your neck, sucking bruises into your skin, and smirked. And then, just because you could and you were a petty jealous bitch, you lifted one hand and gave her a little wave.

Her face crumpled, running out of the room. But Rafe still didn’t notice and the second the door slammed shut, he was grabbing you, placing you on the ground, spinning you around, bending you over the nearest surface.

And all you could do was laugh because in about thirty seconds when Rafe finally shoved his cock inside you, you wouldn’t be thinking about anything else.

A sharp slap landed on your ass, making you gasp, trembling against the countertop. “Keep your legs spread.”

You bit your lip, trying not to give him the satisfaction, but then—then he was pushing inside, stretching you open, and your smirk vanished into a breathless moan.

Rafe groaned, his fingers digging into your skin, “Always letting me fuck you where anyone could walk in,” he tsked, his tone full of amusement. “You love this shit, don’t you?”

He was pulling out slow and slamming back in, setting a pace that had your fingers scrambling for purchase against the cold countertop. His rough hand slid up your back, curling around your, pushing your cheek against the counter, the pressure sending a shiver down your spine, making your walls flutter around him, and he hissed, hips stuttering.

His lips ghosted over your ear, “Bet you get off on it. Knowing someone could see you like this. Knowing I can’t keep my hands off you.”

Your stomach clenched at his words, your breath hitching, you did love it. Loved the way he lost control when it came to you, how reckless he got when he needed you.

“Rafe,” you gasped, your fingers slipping against the countertop, struggling to keep yourself up as he slammed into you. The edge of the marble bit into your hips, but the pleasure drowned out everything else.

He chuckled darkly, dragging his lips up your spine, “Yeah, baby?”

Your head dropped forward, your nails scratching at the surface beneath you, but you didn’t answer, couldn’t really. He was fucking you too good, ruining you in the best possible way.

Rafe wasn’t having it.

“C’mon,” he murmured, his hand slipping between your legs, fingers finding your clit. He pressed down enough to make your whole body jolt, clenching around him. “Use your words.”

A desperate whimper slipped from your lips, your brain melting into static. “F-Fuck, I—” You swallowed hard, shaking against him. “I’m close.”

His fingers tightened around the back of your neck, not enough to hurt, only hold you where he wanted you. To keep you right there—his.

“Fuck, Rafe—”

“I know, baby,” he sighed, pressing his chest flush against your back, “Feel good?”

You could only embarrassingly squeal in response, hips twitching as he rolled his into yours, setting a tempo that had your legs shaking.

He smirked, knowing what he was doing to you. “Yeah, you do,” he murmured, dragging his tongue along the shell of your ear. “Always take me so fucking good.”

His hand slid around your front, fingers trailing down your stomach before slipping between your legs again.

“Rafe,” you gasped, your head falling back against his shoulder.

He nipped at your jaw, his pace never faltering. “Say it.”

Your walls squeezed him at the command, “Feels so—” You sucked in a sharp breath as he suddenly rolled his hips in deeper, you felt him in your stomach. “God, Rafe—”

He groaned, his pace quickening, “That’s it, baby. Let me hear you.”

His other hand curled around your throat, tilting your head back so he could kiss you—hot, wet. His tongue swept against yours, claiming you in a way that had you melting into him, completely fucking his.

“You like this, huh?” His fingers slipped lower, teasing the spot where you were wrapped around him. “When I fuck you like this? When I take what’s mine?”

Your breath hitched, “Yes—fuck—Rafe, I—”

He pulled out suddenly, leaving you empty, throbbing, whining in protest, but he spun you around, gripping your thighs and lifting you onto the counter. His hands hooked under your knees, spreading you wide.

“Look at you,” he murmured, dragging his cock through your slick folds, teasing, torturing. “So fucking pretty like this.”

Your hips jerked, desperate for friction, for anything. You scowled, about to snap back, but then he thrust into you again, deeper this time, stretching you wide, making your mouth fall open in a silent cry.

His dropped to your shoulder as he bottomed out. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

You clenched around him just to be a brat, and he growled, pulling back and slamming into you harder, making you yelp. His hands found your thighs, gripping them tight as he set a brutal rhythm, fucking into you with long, deep strokes that had your head spinning into another galaxy.

“God, Rafe,” you gasped, your nails digging into his back.

He lifted your legs higher, adjusting the angle so he could hit deeper, his hands slid down to the backs of your thighs, spreading you wider, lifting your legs higher against his waist, and you swore you blacked out for a second. 

“You gonna come for me?” he murmured, dragging his lips across your shoulder, biting, soothing with his tongue. “Gonna make a mess all over my cock?”

A sharp, breathless moan tore from your lips as your orgasm crashed over you, pleasure making you go limp in his arms, your thighs trembling against his waist.

Rafe groaned as you pulsed around him, his rhythm stuttering, “You feel so fucking good—”

With one final thrust, he followed you, his body going tense, a low groan leaving his lips as he spilled inside you, eyes stuck on the way his cum flowed down your skin.

He bent forward, his lips ghosting over yours, his other hand moving to press against your stomach, just above where he was still inside.

“You feel me? Still full of me?”

You nodded because truthfully, you were still too dazed to do anything else.

Rafe moaned, tilting his head to catch your lips, but he didn’t kiss you right away. Instead, he stayed there, so close, his breath fanning over your mouth, thumb pressed against your lips, coaxing them open, and you let him. Neither of you spoke, just listening to each other breathe.

Then, softly—

“Be mine.”

Your eyes fluttered open. “Rafe—”

“I-I don’t want anyone else. I don’t even look at anyone else."

Your heart pounded.

 “Say yes.”

Your fingers curled around his nape, pulling him in. “Yours.”

He breathed out a sigh of relief, “Don’t wanna pull out.”

A shudder ran through you at his words. You felt every twitch of him still buried inside, still hard, needy, he could keep going forever.

“I wanna keep you like this,” His lips trailed up your neck. “Dripping with me, stuffed full of me.” You whimpered, and he smirked, “You like that, don’t you?”

You did. God, you did.

“Fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me hard again,” he warned, his voice tight, breathless.

His hand was still pressed against your stomach, feeling himself inside you, and he groaned into your mouth as he rocked his hips again, still buried deep.

“You’re still so fucking tight. Squeezing me—god, I can feel you pulsing.”

Your breath hitched as he rolled his hips again, slow, torturous, making you whimper. Your body was too sensitive, every nerve ending raw, but it didn’t matter. The ache just made it sweeter.

“Rafe, I—”

“I know,” he murmured, dragging his tongue along your lower lip before sucking it between his teeth. “You’re still shaking. You came so hard for me.”

His hand slid between your bodies, fingers finding the mess between your thighs, dragging his cum back inside you with slow, deliberate strokes. Your thighs clenched around him, a shiver running through you at the filthiness of it.

“You take me so well,” His forehead rested against yours. “Made for me.”

You moaned as he pressed his fingers deeper, teasing, his cock twitching inside you at the feeling.

“Too much,” you gasped, but even as you said it, your body betrayed you, arching into his touch, seeking more.

“Liar,” Rafe chuckled darkly, nipping at your jaw as he pulled his fingers away, only to lift them to your lips. “Open.”

You did, letting him press them into your mouth, tasting both of you on his skin. His eyes darkened as you sucked his fingers, his hips jerking involuntarily.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice wrecked. “I can’t get enough of you.”

Rafe turned your head, capturing your lips in a slow, consuming kiss, he wanted to mark you in a way that went deeper than bruises. When he finally pulled back, his forehead pressed to yours, his voice was hesitant.

“You meant it?”

You blinked up at him, still dazed. “What?”

“When you said you’re mine.” His thumb traced lazy circles over your mouth. “You meant it?”

You reached up, threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I meant it.”

A shaky breath left him, and then he was kissing you again. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, coaxing them open, and you let him, melting into his touch as he kissed you. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your hip, his other hand sliding up your spine.

When he pulled back, it was only by a breath, his lips still brushing against yours his blue eyes were dark, heavy-lidded, locked onto yours. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Your heart flipped, and before you could even process the words, he was kissing you again. You sighed into him, tilting your head, deepening it, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging just a little, and he groaned, pressing himself closer.

“You’re not even trying to stop.”

“Why would I?” he complained against your skin. “Not done with you yet, baby.”

[strwberrybils]

WORKIN’ DAY AND NIGHT | b. eilish.

billie was supposed to be home an hour ago.

it bothered you so bad when she stayed out late and didn’t tell you that she wasn’t gonna be home, mostly because it made you feel stupid, just as you did currently— you had been up waiting for her for nearly three hours, and embarrassment was the only thing you felt now.

you texted and called, of course, but she never answered. the phone would ring a few times and then ship you right off to her voicemail. if you were being honest, the last three phone calls you made were only because all you wanted to hear was her soft voice and her sweet laugh.

“hey, it’s billieee! i can’t come to the phone right now, obviously— so just leave a message for me, and i’ll call you back. love you, take care— finneas, shut up! i’m recording my voicemail— wait, how do i turn this shit off? wait, okay, bye for real this time.”

the line went dead as you hung up the one-sided phone call. you were sad now, tears beginning to gloss over your eyes when you slithered underneath the covers of your bed, billie’s scent still lingering on the pillows and in the sheets. you laid on your side and cut off the lamp next to you, grabbing your phone and aimlessly scrolling on social media to distract your mind.

the truth was, you had a really shitty day for a multitude of reasons, and all you really wanted was to compensate for that by spending some time with your girlfriend. however, she clearly had other plans— she was in the studio with finneas and it was making you upset that she hadn’t even checked in.

frustration was what brought you to tears, not sadness. you wiped your eyes harshly and shut your phone off, sinking deep into your mattress and attempting to fall asleep, though your heart and mind were racing. you tossed and turned with the hope that the physical exertion would make you sleepy, but it did nothing but make you full of more adrenaline.

you literally tossed and turned for an hour and a half until you heard the door fly open, watching billie come through it and flicker on a small lamp on your nightstand. she was out of breath, and immediately slipped her shoes and clothes off to where she was nothing in a tank top and her underwear.

“y/n, baby— i’m so so sorry i didn’t check in, me and finneas were fucking some taco bell up and then we got so distracted with the production that i…” billie paused, now standing idle in front of you as you sat up to look at her with teary eyes. “i guess i just…i forgot.”

you laid back down in your spot in the bed as billie sat at the edge of it, putting her hair in a quick bun and grabbing some aquaphor from the drawer next to her. as she put it on her lips, she shot you a heartbroken expression, “i’m sorry baby. please talk to me…i-i feel horrible.”

“just wish you would’ve remember that i existed. enough to at least send a text.” you whispered, clearly hurt by the way your voice cracked a little when you spoke. warm tears began running down your cheeks and billie immediately scooped you up, pulling you into her lap as she laid on the covers. she pulled the duvet over you and then grabbed your face with a free hand, an apologetic expression transcribed all over her face.

“no, angel— that’s not it at all, you’re so very important to me and of course i remembered you existed. but i was just so focused on writing that i wasn’t even on my phone, but i wont let it happen again, okay? i’m gonna always put my baby first. because i love you.”

“i love you too, bils.” you murmured as she smiled, grabbing both sides of your face tightly and peppering kisses all over your skin. you groaned at first, but you secretly loved it— how soft and affectionate she got when the two of you were alone and in your quiet space together.

she kissed you once more, softly against the lips, before pulling away and rubbing your thigh underneath the blanket, “tomorrow i’m gonna make up for my mistake. we’re gonna go downtown and get food on me, and then i’m gonna take you shopping and spoil the fuck ‘outta you.”

you giggled at that, nodding your head and resting it on billie’s chest as you felt a wave of sleepiness wash over you. the last thing you felt was your girlfriend toying with your hair before you were drawn to sleep.

“sweet dreams, babygirl.”

[msbigredmachine]

New To This - Chapter 16

MASTERLIST

Delilah had been to her share of grueling tournaments and chaotic shows, but nothing in her experience had truly prepared her for the intensity of the Mae Young Classic. This was wrestling on a whole different level. Anyone who claimed women couldn’t wrestle had clearly never set foot in a ring, let alone a competition like this one.

Though she had spent the past year rigorously training, the first two days of the tournament left her feeling like an absolute novice. Fatigue clung to her like a second skin, far heavier than anything she’d encountered before. Back-to-back matches were a brutal new reality—one she had never faced until this week.

The day of her first match, she’d been a wreck. Watching other women duke it out to the roar of a crowd nearly twenty times larger than anything she was used to, was a constant reminder of the high stakes. Her nerves had overwhelmed her already in her hotel room that morning, sending her stumbling to her restroom to retch into the toilet. With shaky hands, she wiped her mouth, straightened her posture, and forced herself to carry on with her day. When it was go-time, she marched out there, wearing the mask of unshakable confidence. If she couldn’t be fearless, she could at least act the part.

Now, though, three days on, as exhaustion and anxiety began to weigh her down, she knew she needed a plan. Tank, her coach and steadying presence, would have to help her find a way to keep her energy up, to conquer her nerves, and to push through. If she wanted to make it to the end of this tournament—if she wanted to prove she belonged in this competition and in this business—she had no choice but to dig deeper than ever before.

Today had started well enough. Delilah had sat in the hotel lounge, overlooking the lovely Vegas morning skyline, laughing over a rather lavish breakfast with Tank as he cracked jokes about her wardrobe choices. Wrestling attire, he claimed, should be both intimidating and ridiculous for optimum effect—a sentiment she could hardly disagree with. Her phone had buzzed mid-laugh, breaking the moment. Tiwa’s name flashed on the screen, followed by a video message and Tiwa’s comment.

You’re not gonna believe this shit, lol 😒 

Curiosity turned to dread as Delilah opened the message. It was Andre. Her ex-fiancé. She’d been seeing him around since their breakup—they lived in the same small town, after all—but this sighting of him was…interesting, to say the least. 

He was smiling and walking hand in hand with a familiar-looking woman Delilah remembered from high school. Chanel Grimes. Ole girl had always been thirsty for Andre even back then. Obviously, he had informed her that he was back on the market. Delilah’s stomach churned and not from nerves, as emotions she was not anticipating surged back to the surface. 

She couldn’t explain why it stung. Andre seemed to have moved on, just as she hoped he would. Still, seeing him like that, with her, left her feeling a little raw and wondering if this relationship had ignited while she and Andre were still together. But she reigned herself back in. She had no business questioning his movements, not when she had been carrying on with Josh long before this. Responding to Tiwa with a 🤷🏽‍♀️, she deleted the video and went about her day. By the time she pulled herself together, it was almost time for her quarterfinal match. There was no time to linger. She had to move forward.

But forward wasn’t as straightforward as it sounded.

A sharp, sneering voice from across the locker room yanked her out of her thoughts as she massaged the back of her neck, trying to ease the tension.

“Well, well, if it ain’t Delilah Parrish,” the voice mocked, dripping with disdain.

From her place on a nearby bench, Delilah glanced up at the intruder. The woman stood with arms crossed, her over-glossed lips curled into a smirk.

“Do I know you?” Delilah queried, trying to place the face. She was sure she’d never seen this chick before, so she wondered what the hell made her be bold enough to address her like she knew her.

“I’m Yandi. From the Bronx.” Her tone suggested the introduction alone should have been enough to intimidate.

But Delilah scoffed, unimpressed. “Right.” Sure, Yandi was a pretty girl, with a soft caramel complexion and a petite figure. The impossibly high, surgically enhanced breasts and curves that screamed “eye candy” were a little bit distracting though. Plus, her attitude was anything but sweet.

“Laugh now,” Yandi said, puffing out her inflated chest. “You’ll remember my name when I’m headlining WrestleMania.”

“Okay? Good to know, I guess.” Rolling her eyes, Delilah took another step forward, but Yandi moved to the side, blocking her path. "Excuse me," she insisted, a slight bit of irritation creeping in her voice. Tank had warned her that things could get catty backstage at events like this, but it didn't make dealing with the girl any easier.

"Of course," Yandi went on without provocation, "You'll probably get there before me."

The tone of her voice did not sit well with Delilah, especially when she was already sore and exhausted from the first two rounds of competition. Looking the young woman over, she shrugged in agreement. "If you say so."

With her hands on her hips, Yandi adopted an obnoxiously self-important air, as though she knew so much more than her competitor. "Mm-hmm. That's what tends to happen when you fuck your way to the top," she spat.

Sputtering, Delilah felt her eyes bulge from their sockets. "What?" The mere notion that she would even consider what this bitch was suggesting floored Delilah.

"Aww, does Jey Uso like it when you play dumb like that?" she asked, her brown eyes wide as she feigned innocence. "Wait, you probably don't gotta call him 'Jey' do you? I'm sure he lets you call him Josh.' Or whatever disgusting pet names y’all got for each other."

The way she spat the accusation made Delilah ball her fists at her sides, reminding herself repeatedly not to start anything. She didn't want the bad publicity. She couldn't afford it. There were WWE representatives at the tournament, along with journalists and webmasters. The last thing she needed was to be dubbed a troublemaker before she even started with her new company.

Squaring her shoulders, she just brushed past Yandi, bumping her hard enough to let her know that she should shut her fucking mouth, but Yandi sidestepped her again, blocking her path.

"Oh, come on," Yandi smiled sweetly, hands on her hips, taunting her. "You just gonna walk away like a coward? Like you walked away from your fiancé?"

Delilah felt the rage begin to bubble inside her. Who the fuck did this clueless little bitch think she was? "Look, Yara," she hissed, pinching her palms to keep from losing control. "Yasmin. Whatever-”

Yandi’s smugness faltered, giving way to barely concealed irritation. “Bitch, you know my name-”

“Nah, I don’t. I don't know who the fuck you are, and I really don't care. All I know is you don't know what the fuck you're talking about, but I'm sure you don't give a shit."

Yandi laughed cynically. "I don't?" she asked. "So you're not the reason that fucking Jey Uso just decided to show up unscheduled to an NXT tournament? I'm sure he just loves the business so much that he couldn't sit at home and not be with his kids or something. I'm sure he just happened to be here," she baited.

It didn’t take long for Delilah to understand that this girl was looking for a fight, for reasons she didn’t really care to know about. Until that moment, she hadn't even seen Josh. Tank had told her that he was going to try to make it, but she had been so busy since arriving in Vegas that she hadn't had a chance to notice him. If he was in the crowd during her matches, she hadn't seen, or heard, him. Inwardly, she hoped this little bitch was right. 

"Maybe you should ask him and leave me alone," she shot, growing increasingly angry. Yandi’s words dented her armor. Insinuating that she had “slept her way to the top” felt like a slap across her face.

“Do you think you’re so special, huh? Do you really think you’re the first dumb whore to sleep her way into WWE?” Yandi pressed, stepping closer. “Guess Jey must really like his bitches desperate.”

That was just about enough of this bullshit. Delilah’s patience snapped. In a blur, she closed the distance between them, their noses nearly touching as she hissed, “You wanna see why I’ll make it to the big stage before your pathetic ass? Wanna go, you bitter little bitch? Let’s go. Square up. I’ll beat your ass so bad your daddy won’t recognize you.”

Yandi chuckled, her eyes clouding as she placed both hands on Delilah's chest and pushed her with more strength than it appeared she would possess. "If you think you can, bitch," she spoke.

Though she wanted to rip her fat head and that ugly blond weave off of her shoulders, Delilah caught a glimmer of the fear in her eyes. Yandi was at least five inches shorter than Delilah, and her arms and legs were like pencils. Suddenly, beating her to a pulp didn't seem so appealing. "Ya know what?" She chuckled, finally feeling like she had gained the upper hand. "Your bitch ass ain't even worth it. Stay the fuck away from me." Turning, she began to walk away again.

But Yandi refused to back down. She shoved Delilah hard in the back, making her smack her face onto the concrete floor. The impact barely registered before Yandi pounced, her fists pummeling into Delilah’s back. Delilah reacted with a growl of rage, grabbing a fistful of Yandi’s bleach-blond hair and yanking her onto her back, raining blows against her head.

They rolled across the cold concrete as fists and legs flew. Nails scraped skin, hair was pulled, and knees jabbed ribs. The chaos felt endless. Delilah couldn’t tell if she was winning or losing—all she knew was she was out for blood and she was going to get it.

By the time strong hands gripped her shoulders and yanked her away, she was panting, her vision blurring from exertion.

“Get the fuck off me!” she shouted, swinging blindly. “Get off me! Lemme kill that bitch!”

“Ay, ay, ay, let it go,” a low voice growled in her ear.

Delilah froze, recognizing it immediately. Josh.

“Just let it go,” he whispered again, holding her arms firmly until her body stopped resisting.

A bleeding Yandi was dragged away, still shouting threats and insults. Delilah barely noticed. Her mind raced as she twisted out of Josh’s grasp and stormed past him without a word.

Her secret was out. Somehow, Yandi had known about her and Josh, and now, it seemed, everyone else would too. This fight wasn’t just a brawl—it was the spark to ignite a wildfire. Her job, her reputation, her dreams—all of it felt like it was crumbling before her. Suddenly, she didn’t want to be in Las Vegas anymore. She had been flying under the radar, now she felt exposed with no way to hide herself any longer.

She didn’t care if she ever saw Josh again. She didn’t even care if she still had a WWE contract. All she knew was that her world had just tilted on its axis, and there was no telling if she could set it right again.

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

Thoughts?

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[henneseyhoe]

I Think She Like Me.

Oc x BLACK!FEM!reader

WARNINGS: smuttt, masterbation, gay shit, smoking, sexual confusion.

Summary:your girl crush wants you more than you thought.

Ps. This is my first girlxgirl smut so please give feedback and advice if y’all can! Also some of this is unedited but it’s late so I’ll do it later Lmfao.

✮✮✮✮

Raven.

Look at her. She was so. Damn. Fine. The way she applied pink tinted gloss to her already two toned pink lips had my thighs clenching, wishing she was in between them instead to halt them from closing, my very own honey flooding her tongue as she made it her mission to lick up every drop that spilled from this pussy, which she claimed belonged to her.

Just gawking at her like this made me confused. I was confused looking at her and her beauty, but something in me said I didn’t have to understand to admire, and I was fine with doing that without dissecting my feelings towards her, or any other woman for that matter.

“You got a staring problem” I hear from besides me, making me look back down at the assignment papers I was really supposed to be focused on. I heard Marlo sigh. “I’ve been talking for five minutes and all you can do is stare across the room! Who you thinkin’ bout’, shordy? Me?” My bestfriend teased, poking at my stomach. I chuckle and swat his hand away, pulling my crop top down to cover the place he poked.

Marlo wasn’t a fan of being ignored, especially by me. He demanded attention all the time like the extra drama king he was. You’d think he wouldn’t want any more attention with how racially ambiguous and confusing he looked as a whole, but I stood corrected.

“Cut it out. I’m just…thinking of ideas”

“What kind?”

I glare at him, getting ready to say something smart, per usual. “The kind that’ll get us both an A, nigga” He kisses his teeth, us both laughing because he knew he wasn’t gonna do any work that was helpful anyway. He was never any help during these group assignments, but I was use to it after two years of friendship. If it didn’t have anything to do with the frat he pledged to, or girls, he wasn’t interested.

“You know you ain’t shit for not helping me”

“Ain’t shiiiit?” He held his chest, gasping. “I provide the supplies, mamas. Ion need to help if I’m spending money”

“Yeah, yo ass need to buy us an A so I don’t have to work either” I shook my head, and he shrugs.

“Speaking of buying A’s, here comes bird chest and her AyE kAy aYes” he joked, making fun of the group of girls walking towards us, specifically pointing his insult at his ex, Alicia, and her new C cup titties.

I kept my giggles to a minimum and lowered my gaze to avoid any unnecessary looks from any of the girls that’d have my heart ready to jump out from my throat and onto the table in front of me. Obviously that was unsuccessful, Raven greeting me with a soft spoken “Y/N” while walking by me with a sultry sway, her dropping a paper besides my hand and sliding it into my main view before she made her way out of the cafeteria with the rest of her friends.

“Well damn, I’m invisible?” Marlo grumbled, his eyes following Raven just as intensely as mine. It was obvious we were both looking at her ass sitting up in that skirt. I took it upon myself to control my urges and turned away first to avoid any questions, picking up the flyer in front of me. Reading the paper that was just given, my eyes skimmed over the words to get the gist of what was going on, but before I could even finish, the paper was snatched out of my hand by Marlo, a devious smile on his face.

“Ouuu! Y’all havin a sleepover, how cute is that? A bunch of girls in ya’ girly little bras and laced panties, braiding each other hair and painting toes all night” his tone got more perverted as he went on, a disgusted groan leaving my mouth.

“You’re a pervert” I say, snatching the paper away and reading the rest of it. He laughs and peaks over my shoulder to read the rest of the paper. “It’s at Raven’s house? Matter fact, I think imma come” He smirks, but I shoved the paper back in his face before he could settle on that idea. “No boys allowed! Have fun beating your dick to the thought tonight though” Getting up from my seat, I excuse myself from the conversation by walking away. Marlo sucks his teeth and stands from his seat, walking the opposite direction of me.

✮✮✮✮

“Aye! Raven!” Marlo shouted, the girl stopping dead in her tracks. Letting out a sigh, she turns to him, a sassed hand placed on her hip. She could smell the bullshit a mile away. “Why do you always find me? What now, Marlo?” She asks, having no time for his daily shenanigans he always attempts to pull her into for some odd reason.

“You ain’t call me last night. Wassup wit’ that?”

“I gotta talk to you everyday now?”

His lip arched up and he looked at her up and down. “Ian askin’ you to cupcake wit’ a nigga, I’m just wondering why you ain’t call”

“Cause I didn’t have to…” she shrugs, looking around, waiting for the perfect time to exit. Marlo chuckles with no humor. “That’s how you act after you put the pussy on somebody?” He boldly mentions. Raven took all disrespect to him even approaching her, but talking about them fucking in public? A big no-no.

Raven squints, ready to bite his head off for mentioning their little “moment” together. “I told you not to tell nobody, and yet here you are, talking about it freely”

“I didn’t tell nobody, but why you don’t want nobody to know we fucked? It ain’t even that deep”

“It is! I don’t need everybody knowing who getting this pussy, and you not about to have my name out here” she huffs, frustrated that she even had to explain that to him. “I knew I shouldn’t have fucked wit’ ya’ ass! Y’all niggas chat more than women” she fussed.

Marlo kisses his teeth, waving her off. “Man, cut the bullshit. You probably got a nigga and don’t want word to get around”

Raven laughs, shaking her head. “Ain’t nobody worried bout no nigga, irritating ass. Now lemme get to my class ‘fo you make me late” Her accent became more pronounced the more irritant she got.

she turns to walk away, but Marlo was stubborn and was planning on bussin her down again by the end of the day, so he pulls her right back to place. With undeniable anger, Raven jerks away from him, her hot head traits popping out like never before. Too bad for her, Marlo was also quick to get loud.

They argued. Back and forth. Marlo’s Brooklyn accent over lapped with Raven’s Creole one, a loud, hot mix of cajun and tajin that would have never lasted in a relationship.

“You know what- I got sum fa’ you!” Raven said, her hand held up to the boys face. He immediately stopped talking, his head tilted and his eyes in a squint. “Whatchu got for me, ma? Huh?” He asks, his tone threatening, but Raven was unfazed.

“You’ll see when I’m fuckin’ ya’ friend” She smiles. Her statement was both a threat, and a promise, and Raven was a woman to always keep her word.

“…Excuse me?”

“You heard me” She stepped closer. Marlo only had one friend that Raven knew, and he knew that friend wasn’t on no freak shit like that. Or so he thought.

“That sleepover tomorrow night? I’m gonna fuck your best friend”. Marlo stood there, unimpressed with the threat. “Okay. You have fun with that, Raven” and with that, she walked away, leaving a salty Marlo in her dust.

✮✮✮✮

“Listen up, ladies! First task of Raven’s super summertime slumber party, we gotta take our shots. And no pretending, I’m willing to smell breath after this to make sure!” Raven announced, the girls laughing and taking their shots as soon as they were served to them. Everyone was packing into the kitchen to get their own drinks of choice, downing them with small “eck”s and “yuck”s leaving their mouths.

I shivered as I took my shot, patron being my choice of liquid death.

“Oh, you got balls” I heard from behind me as I finished my drink. I cleared my burning throat and turned, Raven giving me a soft smile as she took a small sip of her drink.

I paused, looking around to make sure she was talking to me. “Yeah, you” She confirms.

“No chaser?” She asks, grabbing at the punch bowl on the table next to her and pouring herself a little more of whatever spiked drink she had in her red solo cup.

“Yeah, no. I don’t do chasers” I answer, my energy becoming more reserved like I wasn’t just shaking my ass to the yinyang twins a few minutes ago.

“You like the taste of it without a chaser?” leaning closer to me, I feel her hand brush against my lower back, softly pushing me aside to grab a piece of chocolate that was offered out for everyone to take as they please. I nod, watching her take a bite of the Hershey kiss, then lick her lips to rid them of the droplets of alcohol and chocolate that didn’t make it into her mouth. I could only hope she knew what else she could do with that damn tongue.

“What else do you like? The smooth or the burning feeling?”

“Both..I like how it feels going down” I answer, and she smirks.

“I like how it feel going down too”

She hums, eyes trailing down my body. It was like she was only using the conversation as a way to freely steal glances. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was checking me out. “..Nice top by the way” Darting her eyes back up to mine, she takes another sip of her drink, then simply walks away.

‘What the fuck?’ I questioned myself. If I didn’t have my thighs clenched so tightly right now, I probably would have already had dampened my panties by now.

✮✮✮✮

Minutes later and there was music blasting, dancing, card games, but most importantly, and my favorite part, a blunt rotation. The blunt was passed around more than twenty times by now between me, Raven, and five other girls who decided to partake.

“I think I’m feelin it!” Tinesha gasps, smiling to herself. I chuckle at her reaction and take a strong pull from the blunt, passing it to Raven right after. She happily takes the blunt from me, her soft fingers caressing mine simultaneously to her taking the spliff from me.

I attempted to ignore all over her subtle, yet not so subtle movements and comments towards me. I felt like I was tripping for even thinking she was coming onto me. Maybe it was the shots and this blunt.

Weed smoke surrounded all of us, the taste of herb and alcohol parading my tongue. I blew smoke into the air and smiled, the girls around me cheering me on.

I felt my body relax in the couch as the minutes ticked by, the heat of Raven’s body next to me giving me a sort of comfort as I tried to find calm in my current space. I could physically hear my heartbeat in my ears now, and I was thinking about how bold I had to be to actually come to this sleepover, but it must’ve looked like I was geeking instead of panicking.

“You feelin it yet?” Raven asks, her leg making its way over mine. I felt her run her freshly done toes up my shin, her touch sending sparkling tingles through me. It was like my brain went into panic mode, my first thought being to jump up. Was she really coming onto me?

“We should go change for tonight!” I declared suddenly, the girls attention falling onto me. If I were them I’d look at me like I was crazy, but seeing that the weed was louder than a frat house, nobody saw a problem with my sudden urge to end the night. “Ouuu, yes! I bought us all these cute onesies to wear tonight for pictures” one of the girls exclaimed, standing up and running off to the living room to grab the clothing.

“I actually need to take another shower, so imma take this outfit change as an excuse” Tinesha spoke up, one other girl agreeing. A shower is just what I needed to cool me down. “I’ll take one too” I said, wiping my sweaty hands in my jean shorts. “I guess I’m taking a shower too” Raven says, smiling.

✮✮✮✮

Like I said before, a shower is just what I needed. The bathroom was huge, and the shower alone was bigger than any I’ve ever been in before. The water was hot, just how I liked it, and the water pressure was enough to send me to heaven. It honestly almost did when I was rinsing off with the detachable shower head and accidentally put it too low, the water grazing my clit ever so slightly, but it was still enough to make me let out a stifled moan as my knees buckled.

I had to quickly get out of there before I started something.

Wrapping a towel around my body, I grabbed the clothes that was given to me and exited out of the fogged up bathroom, walking through the long hallways of this house that was quite literally made for a princess. The house was huge, no doubt. Five bedrooms, a bathroom in each, outdoor pool, basement AND attic, even a kitchenette to compliment it all. I’d love to live in some big ass castle like this, but obviously it wouldn’t fall into my lap easily, and I wasn’t born with a silver spoon. Raven though? Born a heiress to both her parents fortune. Her mother was an accountant, and her father a successful realtor. She had it made.

I knew because I may have done some snooping on a few girls upon deciding whether I wanted to pledge AKA or not.

‘Damn, does this place end?’ I asked myself as I picked a random room to change in, assuming not all of them could have been occupied. Twisting the door handle, I walk in, but immediately stop in my tracks once I realized it was occupied, specifically by Raven.

“Oh! I’m sorry! I’ll go to another room-“

“No, come in! I don’t bite, I promise” she smiles, holding the towel up to her body.

“Y-..you sure?”

“Yeah! The rest of the rooms are occupied too so you might as well” I nervously chuckle. “All of them?

“All five, baby” She confirms, giggling.

I clear my throat and hesitantly walk into the room, my heart beating like a drum in my chest. “Close the door, silly. I don’t want just anybody seeing my goodies” she says, flipping her 26 inch bundles off of her shoulders.

I slowly close the door behind me with my foot, my arms clutching my clothes close to me. I had never been alone with her before, or any woman like this. Not this close, not this naked. I felt hot, and not in the heated way.

Easily slipping off her towel as if she wasn’t naked underneath it, she begins moisturizing her body with what I presumed to be oil. My hands fly up to my face at lightning speed and my clothes fell to the floor, a light gasp leaving my mouth at how it happened so quickly. I couldn’t tell if she was being promiscuous or if she was just that comfortable with me. Something told me it wasn’t the second option.

I heard her let out a shallow sigh, like she was tired of my reactions. “Raven I-“

“I want you to look….” She interrupts and I tilt my head, my hands still covering my eyes.

“What?”

“I said, I want you to look. You want to anyway. Cmon..” she pried. my breath was shaky as I slowly let my hands down, the girl continuing with her previous actions.

I had never been this open with women before, it shocked me how she was so free. Just last year I was convincing myself that I was straight. I was wrong. I don’t know what I am, but looking at the scene in front of me, it definitely ain’t that.

She rubbed oil over her torso and arms, her hands smoothing over her collar bones before making their way down to her titties. Round, brown, perky, pretty. She had tits models would die for. Her nipples were hard, standing at attention as her fingers caressed over them, her plump lips letting a moan slip right passed them. The touching was constant, her hands never leaving her body with her left hand sliding towards her freshly waxed pussy.

You could immediately see the glow and sheen the oil gave her lips as she used her entire hand to spread the oil over her before taking her middle finger and sliding it between her lips for a split second, a smirk growing on her face as I watched in almost a controlled state, not missing a beat.

“You wanna watch?” She asked. I didn’t even have to answer before she climbed into the bed and laid on her back, her ass slightly hanging off the bed with her legs spread wide, giving me a clear show of everything she had. Umber on the outside, rose pink on the inside. I couldn’t even help the jumping of my clit, my slick coating between my thighs as it had no barrier to stop it.

Ravens fingers danced around her slim body, one of her hands still working on tweaking her nipples as the other did as it pleased with her pussy, a singular finger playing with her pink button. She rubbed in circular motions with her jaw slack, breathy sighs leaving her mouth and moans following after. She could feel my urge to fall to my knees, but she gave me no permission.

Her juices her slowly pushed out of her as she clenched around nothing at all, her fingers tracing down to spread a little of what was urging to touch the sheets under her. She only rubbed faster from this point on. Her toes curled, and her moans picking up. her hips bucked upwards, and her legs shook. She came so gracefully with a constant lull of her head, her fringes falling into her face once she picked her head back up and looked at me.

“You like me…don’t you, Y/N?” She spoke suddenly, controlling her breathing.

“…yeah” I answer, nodding.

“So..can I make you cum tonight?”

“Yes, please” She smiles.

“Come lick me up and I’ll make you cum as many times as you want then”

✮✮✮✮

[valeriianz]

For the fic writer asks:

4. Obviously you did research for BitB. I'd love you to ramble about it if you like I'm sure you've got STORIES

5. Did you outline it?

7. How'd you decide it would be Hob's pov?

25-27 I'd love to know a/some favorite lines, details, and any lore you might want to share

omg TJ what wonderful questions! thank you!! this is going to get LONG!

4: Rambling about research!

do you wanna see a screen shot of my bookmarks under my "band au" folder?

man, and that's only what could fit on the screen.

there is... SO MUCH i chose to ignore for this fic. ideas that i had to drop, lines or extra details about the other band members equipment. more logistics, what Lucienne actually does, what Mervyn has to put up with as the new touring stage manager... i realized very early on that i couldn't possibly cram all this (super cool and eye opening) information into the fic and still keep reader's interest and, most importantly, to not stray away from the fact that this is a dreamling fic. whenever i felt myself getting carried away with a side character or job or even social media numbers, gossip, outside POVs, i had to reign myself in and get back on track. there will be time for exploring everything i missed in side stories after BitB is finished. i just hope i still have the energy to write it all.

once, i was so deep into research that after publishing chapter 2, i went into work and when my chef asked what "GA" meant on my prep list, i answered with full confidence, "general admission."

(it means "get ahead.")

the worst part of this entire writing process is im still learning new shit. i havent rewatched or read a lot of what i've saved because, to be very honest, i was feeling a little burnt out. it's why we're kinda full steam dreamling now. it's why ive been glossing over a lot of technical stuff and being vague about conversations amongst the crew/not including it at all. i don't prefer ignoring my research, but at the end of the day i want to still enjoy writing this fic and finish it. even if i can't be as descriptive and detailed and nuanced as i used to be.

5: Did you outline the fic?

(also asked by @hardly-an-escape!)

i wouldn't call what i have a proper "outline," it's more like a 20k word document filled to the brim with notes that i skim at least a dozen times while i'm writing a new chapter (being in my brain is literally hell). i live multichapter life very dangerously. i copy and paste lines or sections (always scattered, never together! augh!) that are meant to go together and plop them in a new document titled "band au ch.#" and then i structure the chapter around what i want to happen.

but to answer this question in the plainest of terms: yeah. i know exactly what's going to happen up until the very end. even if its all in my head and the only concrete shit that's written down are beats/plot points. i'll figure out the rest later!

7: How'd you decide it would be Hob's POV?

i actually never even considered writing it from Dream's POV. this was my first fic in the fandom (which is so nuts to think about lol) and writing in Dream's POV sounded so scary lol. i also just thought Hob's would be easier because i have worked a few backstage shows, back in my college years. i figured eh, i can make this work. and i loved exploring how weird and mysterious musicians can be, from a normie's POV. making Hob a fan first and having him worry about developing a parasocial relationship... it was fun to explore.

25: Share your favorite line

oh god, i have so many haha.

“What are you thinking about?” starting in ch.2 and onward lmao

“It’s–” Dream laughs quietly, bitterly. “I don’t like change.” He says each word with emphasis, eyes trailing down to fixate somewhere past Hob. “And I still hold onto the things I can control, like my instruments–” his eyes swing up to regard Hob apologetically. “Or my clothes or my–” he brings a hand up and wiggles his fingers around his head. “My hair.” ch.4

"His majesty is pleased." ch.5

“You are obsessive,” he states, slow and cool and with a quiet smile cracking through his composure. “Just like me.” ch.7

“You look good.” Hob has to lean in to say so, unwilling to raise his voice amongst the roar of the fans. ch.11

“Del looks like porcelain, but she’s actually made of steel.” Desire swirls the contents of their glass before pushing their shoulders back with a deep breath. “She's tougher than all of us.” ch.11

“Everything. I want…” his fingers tighten in Hob’s hair, pulling him closer, speaking against his lips. “…Everything.” ch.14

26: Share your favorite detail

how intentionally coy Dream behaves. i love keeping him a mystery and deciding when and how much to allow his intentions to peek through has been so fun lol.

Despair is in fact covered in tattoos and piercings! i say this because i feel like sometimes i forget lmao. (but also her and Hob don't interact much so. my bad haha).

Delirium's constant explosion of color in the way she dresses <3

Hob's dedication to his job, Dream, and the people he cares about the most. i don't care if people think i'm making him too soft and good, im gonna project on that man and make him a sweet, sweet simp lmao

and ah, this doesn't matter anymore, and i kinda regret doing it but. i originally had Dream's favorite bass all black but the pickguard was white. so it actually looked like Jessamy. not gonna lie when @designtheendless drew it all black i decided i liked it better that way. and truly i do. that's when i went back to ch.1 and changed it haha. to actually see the guitar with Dream, all done up sparkling black and purple flecks... gosh it's just so him. but then i got up to the reveal that the guitar's name was Jessamy and i was like, "oh, right." lmao. no one seems to care so i'll leave it be.

27: Share a piece of lore you made up for the story

i have a lot lmao. and this post is already so long... im hoping i can get to some if not all of it in side fics in the future. but for now, here's some that's more like headcanons but:

Dream hates flying. he can full on go into panic attacks on the plane if he allows himself to get into his own head.

this was mentioned briefly in ch.4, while Dream was discussing the formation of the band, but Despair was in another band before joining Endless. she is the only character in the fic who gets to keep her English roots (lol sorry) and is the oldest in the band (30).

all of the band members ages: Dream, Desire, and Death are all 28 and Delirium is 22.

Dream can experience subdrop after going too hard during a performance.

Dream paints his own nails, it's very therapeutic.

as an exercise, i explored my own headcanons for Dream in this verse in a word doc, and one thing i will share from it that you might find interesting: If I were to ever give Dream a theological values, I would describe him as a satanist. He is a physical and pragmatic person, nonconforming, and although he is introverted, he enjoys being a part of a community (he loves his band).

also found this in my notes: How Desire and Dream got along was Death making them fight it out. Hob raises an eyebrow “like in a brawl?” He couldn't imagine Desire throwing hands. “No, in a pillow fight that escalated in hair pulling and verbal taunts.”

fic writer asks

[youcouldmakealife]

Liveblogging the End: Jared (103-105)

Okay, I am back to liveblog the end now that we are ACTUALLY approaching the end several...years...later.

Previous parts can all be found under the liveblogging the end tag in reverse chronological order.

And if you want to read along with me, the series page is here.

I am dropping the part summaries going forward, and instead you'll have random ass mini-essays on occasion, because I have Thoughts and Feelings and the like. Starting with one today, below the cut.

I paused the LBTE last time at part 102, because I realised we were, in fact, a long way off from the end, and I was going to finish the liveblog well before I finished the series. And I was…very right about that. It’s a good place to step back in, honestly: Jared’s just told Deslauriers about his relationship with Bryce (it went poorly), Bryce is about to tell the Flames about him and Jared (it will go poorly), and wedding plans are ramping up. Let’s step back to Alberta, everyone.

Here’s the thing about Jared Matheson: he’s beautiful, he’s smarter than most people around him (not all around him, as he believes, but most), he’s in the 0.001 percentile of hockey players worldwide, and he draws good, kind people around him like moths to his flame (also fellow hobgoblins, to be fair). And he thinks like a Mary Sue: ‘here I am, just this ordinary boy, totally unremarkable, why did Bryce Marcus just trip over his feet looking at me, must be a plot’ and then Bryce’s POV is ‘oh look, it’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen’.

Here’s the other thing about Jared Matheson. He’s the narrator of this story, but he’d be the first to tell you the true hero of this story is Bryce Marcus, and Jared’s The Love Interest. Of course, he’s not exactly the mute but there to look pretty and provide stakes love interest of action movies, or the longsuffering picking up after man baby partner of romantic comedies (…mostly), but he is, indubitably, the love interest of the Official Plotline. And fuck does Bryce love him.

I obviously did not know what I was getting into with Impaired Judgment (the series name that just keeps on getting more and more fitting). First off, I had zero handle whatsoever on Bryce. Jared’s voice I had pretty well from the get go — it changed, naturally, as he got older and more settled, and his ‘like’ per part ratio is down significantly at 24 versus 17 (Bryce actually uses it more than he does in dialogue, now), but I had Jared pretty well pegged.

Bryce Marcus. Holy shit man. That guy was a revelation to me as much as he was to Jared. Dude peeled off his layers like a fucking strip tease at the beginning of IJ(aoe) and then grew to be one of my kindest, most earnest, sweetest characters. What I thought was a trash son had only landed in the dumpster accidentally, and required a rescue.

I’m going to have other random little essays while I go through Liveblogging the End (actually for real this time), because this many words and this many years in, there’s obviously something that keeps me coming back to these boys every time I think I’ve reached a natural end to their story, one more step they have to take together before they’re through. But in the meantime, let’s get to the actual story, shall we.

103 - Exertion

Wedding planning feels particularly good when you’re doing it spitefully. Things Jared wasn’t overly concerned with are suddenly important. Fuck yes they’re going to wear tuxes and have the stupidly expensive catering Bryce wants. If Bryce wants a fucking ice sculpture in the middle of summer Jared would probably okay it right now, just as long as he could send a picture of it to Oilers PR.

One of my favourite things about Jared is how much spite he can inject into all his endeavours.

Bryce comes home after two hours, and Jared is given a pretty solid example of Chaz’s reports of the discrepancy between Bryce’s gloss on the phone with Jared versus Bryce in reality, because his face is a fucking thundercloud until he realises Jared’s looking at him, and once he does it gets very — neutral. The epitome of ‘fine’.

Bryce is still masking a LOT at this point in the narrative. It’s kind of crazy to me how far he’s come at this point and how far he’s still going to go.

Jared’s at least ninety percent sure people have recognised Bryce, so he keeps it low when he leans in while Bryce is taking a long-overdue water break, shirt plastered to his back, and says, “Is it weird to say you look hot when you’re punching things?”

Bryce laughs a little breathlessly. “You hate when I fight,” he says.

“Yeah, but when you’re fighting guys are throwing punches back,” Jared says. “And I kinda like your face.”

This is going to keep holding true, much to Jared’s chagrin. Well, chagrin about the fighting: he’s cool continuing to like Bryce’s face.

They do, however, fuck in their own shower — no matter how many times Jared swears they’re never going to do that again, usually while nursing a minor injury, he gets Bryce naked and wet in an enclosed space with him and things go badly. Well, they go badly for his self-discipline; they go pretty okay otherwise. Neither of them even need an ice pack after

The one lesson that is never learned in this narrative, but hey: no ice pack this time.

“Cool,” Jared says. “You still want that crazy expensive catering company?”

“I mean, you keep looking at price per person, but it’s not that much when we only have—”

“You can go ahead and book them,” Jared says.

*

“Hey, is mid-July too soon for the wedding? That huge lake house you thought it’d be cool to rent out just told mom they got a cancellation then.”

Jared would literally marry him tomorrow if Bryce wasn’t so aghast at the idea of eloping.

“I know we haven’t ironed out, like—” Bryce says.

“Book it,” Jared interrupts.

Their entire wedding comes together on the wings of spite and Bryce is kind of loving it, tbh.

“Liar,” Jared says.

“Mom,” Bryce complains.

“Bear, you know you’re a bad liar,” Elaine says.

One of Bryce’s best-worst feelings is when Jared and Elaine team up on him. His favourite people are united! Against him.

Erin drops the ‘I don’t know how hockey works’ b.s. while Elaine’s there, which is good, because if Jared had to tell her one more time that icing doesn’t persist during the power play, while he’s already grit-tooth watching the Flames kill it, well —

Jared should not kill his sister.

This act, which was used to bug the SHIT out of her father and brother, is permanently dropped when she gets together with Julius, and Jared and Don both have dramatic ‘I KNEW IT’ conversations with her.

“But you would have had to tell them before the wedding,” Elaine says. “And telling them affects your career more than his.”

“How?” Jared asks. “He’s the high-profile player.”

“That’s my point,” Elaine says. “There’s always going to be a team that thinks his play makes a potential scandal worth it.”

And that isn’t true of Jared. He honestly like — his dad’s been telling him that since before he was drafted, that a team might decide it wasn’t worth the PR headache, pissing off the homophobic fans. And he knew that, intellectually he knew his dad was right, it’s just — he didn’t expect it to go as bad as it did. Maybe that was naive.

Jared would self-describe as a pessimist, but he’s actually the optimist, between him and Bryce. And he’s usually the one who’s right about how things will go down, versus Bryce, who tends to fear the worst, but unfortunately that’s not always the case.

“I worried about him a lot growing up. I’m sure you can — I worried about Bryce a lot. And I don’t worry — I don’t worry about him in the same way now. And you’re a big part of why I don’t. So thank you for that.”

“I didn’t really do anything,” Jared says. “Like, he kind of — it’s all him. He’s the one who did all the work, you know?”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Elaine says, reaching out and squeezing his hand, and Jared squeezes back.

This is probably my favourite Jared and Elaine moment in the entire series. The utter RELIEF it has been for Elaine, Bryce having Jared in his life. That fear has been so ever-present since Bryce was a child, the weight of it coming off was immense. She still worries about him, obviously, but before, she was Bryce’s sole support. Him having Jared is such blessing to her.

“Why’re you still up?” Jared asks.

“Waiting for you,” Bryce says, but he doesn’t protest when Jared pokes him to their room, supervises him getting into bed. Bryce gets out a plaintive “Come to bed,” before he crashes hard, and Jared gets Gatorade — blue, because Bryce earned it — and aspirin, puts them on Bryce’s bedside table in case he wakes up dehydrated and sore, which Jared knows from experience he almost definitely will. And Jared’s never played the kind of minutes Bryce did tonight. He adds an extra aspirin, just in case.

Soft shit, Matheson.

104 - Ember

Two of them are vanilla because Jared’s selfish and Bryce isn’t there, and anyway, no one dislikes vanilla, so it’s a good flavour to have.

I have been asked about the cake reversal, because Bryce has stated that he liked vanilla best when Jared got him a cupcake for a birthday very early in their relationship, and I will say this: Jared was visibly nervous he got the wrong flavour and Bryce was lying to make him feel better. Jared even pegged it at the time. Also as soon as he realised he could have a non-traditional wedding cake he got excited.

(He DOES like vanilla ice cream best, but he is a chocolate cake guy. Jared’s a chocolate ice cream and vanilla cake guy. Complementary couple.)

“I brought guests!” Bryce tells him, Chaz and Ashley walking in the door before Jared can do more than throw the nearest blanket over himself, give himself a little dignity. Not that Chaz hasn’t seen him in less hundreds of times, but context. Plus Ashley hasn’t, and does not deserve to be unexpectedly subjected to it. He twists it so it covers his chest too. He’s sure Ashley isn’t going to be scandalised by his nipples or whatever, but still.

“Beautiful blanket toga,” Chaz says.

He is stunning in his attire.

“We just got the cake decided,” Jared says. “Chocolate and vanilla, which isn’t like, totally traditional—” he pretends he doesn’t see Bryce rolling his eyes at him. “But it’s not like, a cupcake cake or whatever, so.”

“Aw, I like those little cupcake towers,” Ashley says. “They’re super cute.”

VINDICATION FOR HALLA.

Bryce eats it up, and Jared can’t blame him, considering that’s like, his first enthusiastic Matheson reception, barring Erin the irritating shadow and devoted future sister-in-law. Plus her glaring crush when he first came onto the scene. Maybe Jared will amend that to adult Mathesons — though like, his grandma’s a Murray, not a Matheson, so maybe that’s the difference. No hobgoblin gene.

Jared has the hobgoblin gene from both sides, his grandma has simply bamboozled him into thinking she’s not a hobgoblin herself.

It’s going to cost an absurd amount for something Jared will probably never wear again, except maybe to Oilers charity stuff — and even then hopefully he’ll have put on enough weight it won’t fit — and Jared almost protests and puts his foot down on getting one off the rack, despite Bryce’s obvious horror at the idea, but then he gathers all his reserves of spite and lets it happen.

Bryce continues to be very grateful to Jared’s spite in this matter.

Small potatoes is a stupid term, Julius texts back ten minutes later, ten minutes Jared imagines he spent looking up whatever the hell that meant and then trying to figure out why that was a thing, and then throwing his hands up at the English language. It’s easy to imagine because Jared’s seen him do it multiple times before.

And to be fair, it is a pretty stupid term. Like, what is it comparing the small potatoes to? Big potatoes? A pumpkin?

It literally has no defined etymology and that makes me fucking mad. A good idiom requires a root MEANING, even if it’s no longer relevant to modern life. Fuck you small potatoes.

Jared snorts, then texts Julius with a mad face. “I can’t believe you’re sulking,” Bryce says. “I’m not,” Jared says, and then sends Julius three more mad faces and a I cooked for you ALL YEAR and I get nothing. Thank you for your congratulations, Julius sends back twenty minutes later. Whatever we both knew you were a lock., Jared texts back

I love their friendship. Julius is the friend Jared deserves.

It feels vaguely unethical for them to get preferential treatment when everyone’s supposed to be equal, but Jared doesn’t want some random person at City Hall recognising Bryce, so he’s not actually complaining.

Love Jared like ‘I recognise this is the sort of preferential treatment that leads to systemic inequality which is bad…but also I appreciate it’.

“We’re getting married in July,” Jared says, just to like — tell her. She doesn’t care, she’s just telling them how long it’s valid for so they don’t have to get a new one, but it’s just. It’s cool, saying it to someone.

“Congratulations,” she says, both like she says it a billion times a day, and like she means it, means it as much for them as anyone else, no more or less.

“Thank you,” Bryce says, and it’s stupid, but Jared has the sudden urge to take his hand, follows through on it. She knows they’re getting married, it’s not like a little hand holding is going to shock her. Once again, she doesn’t bat an eye.

But then also NOT getting different treatment is meaningful as hell too.

105 - Promise

It turns out while Bryce’s celebrity was kind of handy in getting some strings pulled at City Hall, it is a pain in the fucking ass when it comes to getting an officiant. Jared figured they could get Elaine or Bryce’s grandpa or someone to get a licence for it, like he’s seen before, keep it in the family, but Alberta’s a buzzkill on that one, and they have to go official.

I ALSO figured that and was displeased with the government of Alberta. (But when am I not, you know? If I get the fucking 'tell the Feds' ad one more time during a hockey game so help me--)

Jared doesn’t want to do that. Like, for one, Bryce is going to have a speech that’s a billion times more romantic and great even if he doesn’t put any effort into it — and Jared knows he’s going to put effort in it. Jared’s is going to be awful in comparison. Every time Jared tries to talk about his feelings, it ends up terrible and often insulting. Bryce deserves better.

Look at Jared trying to make this sound like he’s refusing for Bryce’s sake. (though he is right, it is typically terrible and insulting.)

“You know, the ‘I take you, blah blah blah,’” Jared says. “She just wanted to know if we wanted to personalise them. You’re supposed to save the long stuff for the reception, you know, not drag the wedding on too long.”

Did Jared trawl wedding sites explicitly for this ammo? Absolutely. He’s even got the links saved in case Bryce asks for sources. Sources say: don’t do anything that takes over a minute, it’s a bad idea, it’ll bore your guests.

Any sources that said otherwise naturally were discarded because they did not suit Jared’s purposes.

Raf seems like the kind of guy who’d like, light candles at dinner for ambiance, and Chaz is totally the kind of guy who’d buy Ashley flowers ‘just because’, all these things Jared is totally deficient at

He’s got it backwards: Chaz is candle guy, Raf is flowers just because guy. (And for her mom! And sister! Grace’s fam love Raf so.)

lean on your teammates for help, right? If you’re weak on the point, don’t go there, let a teammate more capable have that slot. Teamwork 101.

God I love Jared trying to hide his machinations with hockey talk, like that’s going to fool anyone.

“No,” Raf repeats. “You have to do your own wedding stuff.”

“It’s just my vows,” Jared says.

“That’s the most important part,” Raf says, sounding faintly scandalised.

Raf is more than faintly scandalized, honestly.

“You seem like a romantic guy,” Jared says to Chaz after they wrap up for the day.

“Oh fuck no,” Chaz says. “I’ve already heard like three drafts of BJ’s vows, there’s no way I’m listening to yours too.”

Three drafts? In two days? Jared’s fucked.

“I was going to ask you to help me write them?” Jared says.

“That’s so much worse, no way,” Chaz says.

And Chaz is done.

He looks up some sample vows on his phone while he’s making him and Bryce dinner that night, and they leave him red with secondhand embarrassment. He can’t imagine saying anything even close to what they say. There will be no ‘light of my life’ leaving his mouth, true or not.

Look at this dude just slipping in that Bryce is the light of his life. Two people making this relationship mushy, Jared.

Jared was always kind of, well — he was a studious kid. He got good grades. He prepared for classes. So it seems to make sense to make a list as a starting point. Sort of a ‘Pros and Cons of Bryce Justin Marcus, Except Just the Pros Because Our Wedding is a Dumb Time To Mention the Cons, Unless the Cons are Endearing Ones’.

Can you imagine this dude listing Bryce’s cons during his vows to be ‘fair’. Pro: excellent at hockey. Con: needs to work on controlling his temper on the ice. Pro: romantic as fuck. Con: romantic as fuck.

Fuck. He is not good at this. This is not his thing. The list part, sure, but not the conveying emotion part. He has a ton of emotions for Bryce, but like, saying them? Oof.

Big oof. Especially considering Jared’s history when trying to convey said emotions.

He’s definitely crazy in love to be thinking about Bryce at like, forty, having a shitfit because he’s starting to go bald, or grey, when he’s so vain about his — admittedly terrific — hair. Or Bryce at sixty, buying a convertible all over again and thinking he’s so cool, or at ninety, grin as shiny white as ever because his teeth are all fake, and still being like ‘yeah, I want that guy’.

We all know this man is due for another red convertible decades from now, Jared has resigned himself already.

Jared closes the doc — password protected or not, no way he wants Bryce to accidentally stumble onto that ridiculousness — unlocks the door to the spare room — he was maybe a lot paranoid about Bryce not stumbling in on the ridiculousness — and wanders into the living room after hiding his laptop in said spare room.

Jared treating his vows like state secrets while Bryce has already emailed Ashley like five different versions for peer review.

He’s having a lot of feelings lately. It’s very disorienting. Like, he always has feelings, obviously, he’s not a robot, but he’s having so many. Bryce always does this to him, dammit.

Thankfully ‘how dare you make me feel feelings’ did not make it to the final vows.

[alphinias]

I’ll never forgive the Pates for the lack of acknowledgment from the Pogues towards Jiara in S4, it was there on some level but it was mainly angst from Pope or Sarah directly trying to understand from Kie, realistically they should’ve noticed and realistically there would have been banter about it.

I get it the show isn’t about them but literally all it was took a couple of phrases thrown there in between bigger dialogues like little seeds, like when Kie and Sarah were talking sitting down on the balcony Sarah could have just thrown a “he cares, you should have seen him when they kidnapped you” or John B saying “go get your girl” instead of just “oh I see”…it didn’t take much, just small crumbs to make it clear they clocked it.

Especially when you think about how quickly they made Sarah and John B clock whatever was happening between Kie and Pope immediately after their return from the Bahamas.

IN CONCLUSION I NEED JOHN B AND POPE TO TAKE THE PISS AT JJ IN S4 FOR HOW “PUSSY WIPPED” HE IS.

Thank you for coming to my TEDTalk!

Yeah this was absolutely the thing that disappointed me the most about S3 regarding Jiara. But it’s rooted in the deeper problem with S3 overall in how they neglected the pogue dynamic for other shit.

TOTALLY agree about how easy it would’ve been to rectify. I get that JJ was doing everything in his power to avoid talking about it with anyone so I’ll give them an inch on that end, but Kie was actually dying to! Even what we did get with Sarah it was like… Sarah just glossed right over kie’s comments and went straight back to Topper/John B drama. Because that’s what we as an audience wanted to hear obviously!

Hoping they can redeem it a bit in S4 for sure but it won’t ever totally make up for the lack of it in the season where they got together.

[theflikchic]

Okay food for thought: I'm rereading PoA, I'm almost done it, and I'm trying to read it critically. And this thought cannot stop bothering me:

Excluding the later books, speaking strictly from a character-writing perspective, does anyone else find it kinda weird and uncomfortable how glossed over the "prank" (basically murder attempt, Sirius doesn't even deny it) on Snape is?

There are definitely more pressing matters during the situation. Who really betrayed Harry's parents is the ultimate issue at hand. But I noticed that after Lupin, who is mostly very open about how the whole "prank" went down, explains why it is that Snape really hates Lupin and Sirius, Harry addresses this and even when he believes Sirius isn't guilty of murder, he still never gives Sirius' apathy towards almost killing Snape a second thought. And the narrative seems totally fine with it.

Like, this is a major revelation. Or at least, it should be. Harry has found out that the real reason James saved Snape's life is because James' friend- his best friend- used Lupin to try and harm another student. And despite this, the narrative still acts shocked when Snape looks "deranged" and "mad" when faced with Sirius, whereas Harry calls him "pathetic". Snape is obviously an asshole who has beef with a CHILD, so there's bias there from Harry but...

Okay. Snape goes way out of line during that Shack scene (imo, he deserved to get conked out like that telling Harry to actually die, SHIT). But I get why he goes that far even if it's awful.

At first, when he reveals himself specifically after the explanation behind the prank, the narrative seems set up for the reader to also gain some understanding for why Snape is behaving this way while still presenting him as in the wrong. He was nearly killed, Sirius got off, they hushed it all up, and he clearly has severe unresolved trauma from that. I can't see ANY other explanation for why he acts like that, and the same goes Sirius (who was younger than ME when he got put into Azkaban). So you'd think- with Harry's whole year being about trauma and the narritive focusing on it, you'd think the set up would lean more into setting up Harry considering the unresolved trauma Snape has about this.

But no. The narrative goes right back to only portraying him as "petty" and having to just get over himself, as someone now looking "deranged" because of a "schoolboy grudge". It's as if the provided info of the prank never happened and the only thing Harry heard was that Snape was "jealous of James' talent on the Quidditch pitch" (also Snape?! How?! Given what we know about him these past three books, this seems sorta out of character. Jealous of James' popularity definitely but sports ability?). Harry doesn't question the prank, even when his FATHER did, chalks up Snape's whole experience to being "made a fool of at school", and the narrative just... goes with it?

Whether or not you believe Snape deserved to get attacked by Lupin, it's very odd to me how this is a big reveal and then Harry's brain and the narrative alike switch back to "oh that Snape, just grow up" as if the reveal never happened and acts as if it's still shocking that a man forced to hush up his near murder would be..."deranged" (the small ableism in PoA is something else btw).

This was way longer than intended but from a writing perspective, does it seem odd to anyone else? Is it just bc the narrative is so heavily told from Harry's POV? If so, it doesn't always feel that explicitly from Harry. Maybe I'll add on more when I finish rereading it but for some reason, this is really bothering me.

[self-loathing-angel-of-thursday2]

Beautiful Spouse’s Rewatch Thoughts SPN 13x11 Breakdown

“What do we got? Chicken legs in jello?” “It’s a Mann’s world” “gas stations don’t talk like that” “the fuck is wrong with people?” “you should look around before you pull over for gas on that kind of shit. You see the Jesus Saves van and the creepy guy, you don’t stop” “at this point, just drive on the tire” “like they can fkn hear you” “the fuck” “I really like this season’s title card. I really like this season in general” “what’s Sam bitching about this time?” “Answer your goddamn phone already” “They got all the way there, and the front wheel didn’t rotate?” “Did Dean forget about this other guy?” “un-FBI like” “nobody turns down pancakes” “it’s obviously not the preacher” laughter

“God these guys are terrible at talking about their feelings” “wouldn’t it be supper where she’s from?” “the preacher is creepy as fuck holy shit” “that’s some bullshit” “is she going to slam his face into the table? Nah, that’s not a Donna thing” “that’s a helluva a user name” “what in the fuck?” laughter

“2Fangs2Furious? Did I just see that? Oh my god” “Doug doesn’t know yet?” “better get to it” “I want more details on how he cracked the encrypted torr server. They glossed over that too quickly” “why’d you cuff his hands in front of him?” “you can hear the music, you’d have heard the scream, too” “that’s not great” “what/“ laughter “no shit buddy” “that was quick” “why aren’t we chopping his head off yet?” “what the fuck?” “yeah but youre Dean Winchester” “What? You haven’t fed it to him yet? Way to make a mess in the car” “but Sam has no heart” “take off the mask” “what kind of monster was the guy? Just a regular guy monster?” “Donkey bear?” Dougie bear

“Oh” “Not really” laughter

“I’m very confused by the decor. Where did they find this couch?” “Are they married or something? Oh never mind” “idk why but this episode reminded me of when I went camping and then the SWAT team showed up” “not for me obviously”

“That was a fkn good episode. Way darker than their normal”

[nincompooprr]

I've been going to mass

My eyes do this really weird thing every time I walk inside a cathedral. Like they glaze over or something. I don’t know.

I haven’t thought about church or God or communion or receiving the body of Christ for a long time. ‘Body of Christ,” the priest will say once we bow our heads and approach for a wafer. Every single person. “Body of Christ.”

Nothing’s really dwelled with me since I was a kid and I was forced to go to Sunday school with my brothers. We grew up Catholic. We weren’t actually religious.

Three weeks ago I woke up one morning with the thought of potentially going the night prior. I took out my cracked phone, looked up the bus route, and calculated how much time it would take to get there. Maybe if I’m awake in time, I told myself. Why not.

So I went.

I don’t think I’ve ever sat through an adult service. That was my first thought. I walked to the middle towards the left where I thought I’d be inconspicuous enough to not be judged like hey, that girl obviously doesn’t belong here, but not too much so someone would nod and think wow, she’s got 2/3 of personal notations in The Book of Joshua.

My eyes always glaze over the moment the hymns begin. It’s nothing to do with being tired or bored. If I was bored I don't think I’d be there.

I imagine it like a fogged up camera. Or a mirror after you take a scalding shower. My eyes gloss over and I’m left staring all the way behind the altar where Jesus is hanging with his head slightly turned. He’s always looking away.

I’m comfortable. I remember asking my dad once in grade three why it felt so good to stare into space. He said it’s because you don’t have to worry about anything. You can just… Sit.

The stained glass is the only thing that isn’t sludged up like baby throw up. It’s pretty clear actually with Mary’s outstretched hands reaching for those around her. There’s a lot of people. I wonder if they feel what I’m feeling and if it’s because of her.

The glass becomes a point of clarity. If I stare intensely enough I can decipher what the choir is singing. I can get by what the priests are trying to say. There’s one guy who always reads straight from the scripture. Then another steps up to explain what he actually said.

My eyes aren’t like this the entire time. Today, the third week that I found myself there, I noticed I was squashed between two men, one on each side of me. Not actually but enough for me to notice that I didn’t like it. They breathe too loud, move too much, eyes wander. I hate it. Some of us, I told them in my head, are here for something. Some of us are in such deep shit that we’re praying for it.

The first one that sat down next to me was oddly quick at getting settled, sliding in without a word. The other? I don’t remember. I just know that I heard the most obnoxious way to clear one’s throat in the middle of the Lord’s Prayer.

Other times it’s stuff like a crying infant. Sometimes a phone buzzes or lights up. It’s always some teenager who has their message settings set to LED flash for alerts. It’s obviously for deaf people.

Things like this disrupt the experience. There’s a billion seats so why are you sitting here? Why would you bring your baby here he clearly can’t take the overwhelming incense stuffing his nose like a man coking out in a locked bathroom.

It doesn’t really matter I guess.

[unkillable-gays]

9-1-1 8x05 liveblog, cont.

Now I'm very curious if there are actually situations where firefighters have to drill together scaffolding to support unstable structures? Like, on the one hand I can see that they'd run into a lot of failing structures, on the other, it seems unlikely that they're just hauling around lumber?

It also seems like they could've literally just had PEOPLE hold the porch up; like, it just needed to be for long enough to move Denny and the car? (And mostly just Denny) That seems like it would take less than thirty seconds.

Also I don't think you can do CPR while someone is upright against a collapsing wall lol. And I don't think they should've been surprised when Denny passed out, didn't she just give him two doses of morphine??

(Again, poking realism holes is enrichment for me; I'm not criticizing the show!)

shjsksnjs Buck saying, "this is just my face" like this problem didn't appear YESTERDAY?? personally, if ER staff went out of their way to try and provide me treatment based on my appearance alone, I think I would let them!

Eddie is just chilling this whole episode lol. (I mean, he's also stewing in guilt and angst, but, yknow. Chilling.)

Dang, poor Tommy, he doesn't have a codependent work family, he just gets to ride along with Buck's. 😢

Angela Bassett I obviously have nothing but the utmost respect for you, but your character is soooo annoying!!! 🙄😭 (as i knew she would be) like obviously it wasn't great that those girls egged that guy's house or whatever, but he literally TRIED TO KILL THEM?? And then he DIED? and then ALMOST KILLED some poor random kid??? And they clearly already feel really bad about all of it?? Why are you acting like it's their fault that this man was crazy?! They're literally kids!!!

Ummm I know there's plot happening but Karen and Hen are both so beautiful, in this lesbian's opinion. Anyway.

Did Buck pay for a gravesite and burial for a random corpse he found?? That's very sweet, but actually seems quite expensive!

Not, "but it wasn't fire. 😞..." 😂😂😂 babes y'all did not crash that car!!! They weren't even drinking, or driving unsafely! Maddie even acknowledged in the beginning that their pranks, (if they were even responsible for the first one) were trivial!

Sorry I'm trying to imagine what it'd be like if I was in high school and the (widely hated) vice principal crashed his car and died, supposedly bc 2 of the coolest girls in school egged his house. And then they gave a speech about how sorry they were and how they love safety and cops now. (Love how the guy's actual death is being glossed over btw, kinda funny.) Wild shit.

Wait why didn't Eddie get invited to Billy's funeral??!! 😭 also oh noooo he's so sad 🥺 But the way Buck was like, "life is all about having a team and not being alone!" and looks significantly at Tommy, when... they kind of just established that Tommy DOESN'T have a team??

Buck's sweet speech to Billy really speaks to his own compassionate nature, but I can't help but notice that we never learned what laws Billy was wanted for breaking, or why his posse turned on him 🤔🤔🤔 just questions that seem worth asking to me...

Aaaand that's my first ever episode of 9-1-1, completed! Overall, I have to admire their dedication to packing so MUCH into 42 minutes. Dialogue was kind of stilted, especially at the beginning, but that may be a necessary evil of the format. The fast pace was kind of jarring, but also made it a little more watchable for me, personally. (I get easily bogged down by angst/conflict/melodrama.)

Also I thought they were going to solve the Boils mystery??? And it was gonna end up being, like, spores from when Buck, uh, ripped apart the corpse or something. (But maybe that's just bc most of the shows I've watched have been murder mysteries 😅)

[samstrugglingwithlife]

You Make Him Blush

Genre: Fluff

Characters: Oikawa, Kuroo and Akaashi

Warning: Swearing, sorry

A/N: Ya girl is finally posting. I mean it’s 5 am right now but hey! I did it. V, proud of myself (I should sleep but no). I hope you enjoy it. (It’s not edited, I skimmed over it but I may have missed some mistakes, so sorry about that!!)

OIKAWA

This fucker likes to play games with you. He makes you blush all the goddamn motherfucking time. He'll wink at you before making a killer serve, lift his shirt just enough during practice that you'd see his toned abs, he'll whisper ungodly shit in your ears when you're out in public. And honestly, you're super tired of feeling your cheeks heat up every time this guy so much as breathes in your direction.  

In the start of your relationship when the two of you were still a new couple you had witnessed him blush, but it was a mild flush out of nervousness. You always felt that you never made him as flustered as he made you.

So there you were, on a Saturday evening whining to your best friend that your boyfriend doesn't get nervous around you anymore and that the spark in your relationship was dwindling.

"I don't think that it's getting mundane, your relationship," your BFF started. "He's hella whipped for you, makes me gag."

"Then? How can he make me blush, but I can't even make him mildly flustered?" you asked, your shoulders slumping in a defeated manner. "Why do you even care about that?" 

You stare at your friend, "Because, he does it all the time! I wanna do it too! I wanna see him flustered!" you whine. "I wanna make him speechless!"

 "Oh so it's a game?" your friend asks you blankly. "Listen either help me or don't judge me."

That conversation was a week ago. Today was a rare date where you and Tooru would go out rather than him practising his serves in the gym and you watching him and feeding him snacks in between.

He waited for you outside your house. You paced in your room, checking yourself in the mirror anxiously. Was it too much? Will he laugh at you? Do you look stupid? A million thoughts were rushing through your head as you looked at your appearance in the mirror. With a nervous groan, you exit your room and make your way to the front door.

As soon as he hears the front door open, he turns around with a wide grin, "Finally! What took-" he is stunned as he lays his eyes on you, "you... so long..." his words dying in his throat.

You blink in shock as you witness a deep flush spreading across his cheeks. Your face also felt hot but with embarrassment. "Th-this wasn't a good idea!" you stutter. "I'm gonna go change!" you turn to leave, but you are yanked backwards by your wrist, falling against Tooru's strong chest. "You look great," he mumbles into your shoulder. "So so beautiful..."

You were surprised, you had no idea that wearing his turquoise jersey tucked into your jeans would have this much impact on your boyfriend.

The whole time during your date, Tooru kept stealing glances at you, and every time your eyes would meet, a dark blush would appear across his face. You wanted to grin and say that it serves him right! That it was your revenge. But you couldn't say a single word, your face equally as red as his.

Because the thing is, you never realised that a blushing, flustered Tooru was absolutely way too fucking adorable. 

KUROO

It's not that you never made him flustered or nervous. You were an absolute beauty, and everything you did was enough to bring him to his knees, but he hid it well. He'd hide it behind a facade of a confident tease; when that wouldn't work, he'd strategically turn his face away from you until the redness left his cheeks.

You were under the impression that he was way too suave and that you did not have that sort of power over him. Oooh! And boy, were you wrong!

It happened right before the match between Nekoma and Nohebi. You were hanging out with the team before they went out into the court and you went to the spectator's area. 

Kuroo's team bumped into the opposing team, and obviously, your boyfriend had to shit-talk the other team. You stood to the side rolling your eyes.

Your boyfriend took another jab at Daishou regarding his ex-girlfriend. Irked, the other team's captain attempted to tease him back by saying that Kuroo doesn't even have a girlfriend.

You raised your brow, stepped forward and looped your arm around your boyfriend's and smiled sweetly at Daishou, "Now, now. I'm very offended that you think that I don't exist."

Kuroo smirked as the other guy sputtered an apology towards you. You accepted his sorry. 

You realised that it was soon going to be time for you to find a seat, so you leaned up and placed a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips. You could literally see his head exploding as a deep red blush appeared on his face. 

You almost didn't hear both teams sputtering because your eyes were blinking at your boyfriend's current state.

Yaku and Kai dragged the Nekoma team away, while Nohebi left on their own, Daishou giving Kuroo a hateful glare as he left.

As soon as it was just the two of you, he buried his face in the crook between your neck and shoulder. His knees began to feel weak. He groaned, his voice muffled by your skin.

"Tetsu, are you okay?" you asked, confused. He only shook his head still buried in your neck. "I look so lame right now..." he mumbled into your skin. He felt the vibrations on your throat as you laughed and stroked his hair. "What? You think I think you're lame because you stopped functioning because of a simple kiss?" he nodded again. This caused you to laugh loudly this time.

He pulled back and glared at you weakly, his face still flushed red. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he asked. You smiled and flicked his forehead, "Go out there and win, cool guy," you grin. He pouted but left after placing a quick kiss to your forehead, ready for his team to hoot for him teasingly.

As soon as he was out of sight, you placed a hand over your beating heart in your chest and took a deep breath. Did he have any clue what he does to you?

AKAASHI

Right. So I headcanon that this guy is not that difficult to fluster but he, just like Kuroo, tries his best to hide it afraid you'd think that he is unattractive.

It's a difficult task to control his face from getting red because everything you do is so cute he can't help it. One time he had to physically remove himself from your presence before you could see his neck turning red.

This one-time Bokuto found him in the storage room, face buried between all the volleyballs in the basket. He has never been more scared in his life than seeing his teammate, who is the epitome of calm, losing his shit because his S/O decided to be cute that day. 

You weren't unaware of the effect you had on him but you knew that he was embarrassed, whatever his reason was, so you never intentionally did anything that would fluster him.

So imagine your surprise when you suddenly come face to face with a new side of him.

The two of you were hanging out in a cafe, you guys were on a study date. Keiji was immersed in his textbook, his hand holding yours across the table. You noticed that his lips were slightly chapped, thinking that they would hurt if his skin stretches, you call out to him, "Keiji." He looks up from his book at you, "Hmm?" he hums.

Without thinking, you swipe your thumb across your lower lip, gathering up the gloss and then proceed to wipe it on his lips. He couldn't even get up and hide, his entire face flushes a deep red. He buries his face in his folded arms on the table with a loud thud. "K-Keiji?!" you call out startled. "Are you okay?"

"J-just give me a minute, I need to calm down," he says, face still buried in his arms. "Okay?" you sit back, confused, taking a sip from your drink.

After a while, he slowly looks up, his face still slightly flushed. "You good?" you ask. He nods weakly. "Sorry..." he apologises. "You must think I look stupid."

You wrinkle your brows in confusion, "What?"

"I mean, I probably look dumb with my face all red and ugly..."

"Keiji," you begin calmly. "You have this effect on me all the time, do you think I look stupid?" you ask.

"No!" he says quickly. "I think you look adorable."

You smile, "There you go! What makes you think that I don't think that you don’t look adorable?" He looks away, unable to answer. "Sweety, you need to stop overthinking about things like that. I love you no matter what."

He smiles weakly and laces his fingers with your fingers. He didn't say anything after that, but you could feel him relax. He felt giddy in his heart, you said you loved him. He didn't tell you yet but he will soon, in a way you deserve to hear it.

[bigskydreaming]

Headcanon that everyone within the family may think of Dick as the one most in their father’s favor, but Dick is keenly aware that the general public thinks of him as their father’s ‘Consolation Prize.’

After all, when from their perspective he’s the one Bruce raised since he was eight as his ward, with that dissolving when he was eighteen and very little perceived contact between the two of them for years after that, while Jason was adopted soon after being taken in and Dick was then later adopted years after Jason’s death, without any public fanfare.....

What does that look like other than Bruce ‘settling’ for the son who didn’t appear to be his first choice, just chronologically first, once he lost Jason but still needed/wanted an heir, as he was getting older and the general public still didn’t know yet how closely tied Tim was to the family or that it wouldn’t be long after this that Bruce adopted him too?

Now granted, you can definitely perceive the above as overly angsty and not the only way this situation was likely to be perceived outside the family, but my point is more that like.....nobody ever presumes that the general public are overly kind or generous in their views or assumptions about the Wayne family behavior. I just don’t buy that people assumed there was some optimistic explanation for the way things appeared here, or that people just went “oh its probably because the kid who grew up in that house the longest just doesn’t WANT to be adopted by the billionaire and have all the security that brings, and that’s also clearly why he lives in Bludhaven of all places and a shitty apartment building at that.”

I mean, no matter what WE the readers may know of Dick’s personal priorities and how little he cares about where he lives or that Bruce would have willingly paid for him to have a better place to live if he really wanted it, is that what people are most likely to assume, based on appearances?

Anyway, I’m just saying, I bet it bugs the crap out of Dick to hear his siblings casually refer to him as so obviously enjoying favored son status and being the clear apple of Bruce’s eye, as he’s like, cue internal monologue: gee, sure wish I was as confident of that back during the years he seemed to want nothing to do with me.

Like I’ve said before, I think Dick isn’t actually super insecure and his insecurities such as they are mostly revolve around how his family and friends perceive him, not the general public.....BUT I do think that with as high profile as the Waynes are, there’s no way that nobody picked up on how little contact Dick and Bruce had in the continuities where they literally went over a year without even speaking to each other....and like, felt free to draw their own conclusions.

 And I do think this is also part of why I default to thinking a lot of canon takes and headcanons tend to gloss over how shitty Gotham public could be in their views/treatment of Dick. Like just because Dick was basically trained from birth to be able to work a room and entertain people while in their direct presence, that didn’t actually make him ‘one of them’ in their eyes, and I reeeeeeaally don’t think you can actually underestimate the pettiness and jealousy one percenters feel when they see someone they inherently view as lesser than them - as they would’ve viewed both Dick and Jason due to their lower class births - like....’leap frogging’ over them into greater wealth via being taken in by Bruce. 

Like, idk, maybe it just comes from having been a scholarship kid who went to a richy rich private high school attended mostly by the children of senators and hotel-chain owners, lol, but like.......I can not for a second picture Gotham’s upper class actually LIKING Dick or being as charmed by him as they frequently are depicted as, just because Dick knows how to be charming and likable. Like they might play it that way when in public at a gala, for appearances or whatever....but the second he turned around they’d be badmouthing him at juuuuust a high enough volume to ensure he’d be able to HEAR them but not be able to call them on it without it looking like he went back and provoked a scene over something ‘nobody else around them heard them say’ or whatever. Just to make sure that no matter how well he came across in public social settings, he never ‘forgot his place’ or whatever or forgot that they were all too aware of it too.

And also also, it always kinda bemuses me that as much focus as the Court of Owls and Talons get in Dick’s narratives in canon and fic, that we’ve barely ever seen any examination of what the Court retroactively means for Dick’s years growing up around upper class Gothamites who likely included more than a few Court members.....like, we KNOW years later that like, all along there were these people who even without knowing who Batman and Robin were, like, knew Dick Grayson was their ‘Gray Son’ and intended to claim him as their weapon someday, and you can’t tell me that wouldn’t have factored into how they viewed and interacted with a child and teenage Dick Grayson as they attended many of the same social gatherings and functions. OR that Dick himself in the aftermath of the Court of Owls reveal, didn’t look back at his OWN childhood and reflect on how many creepy or uncomfortable encounters he had with various socialites that left him feeling decidedly skeeved out and not a fan of how they were looking at him or things they might have said to him, thinking themselves oh so clever for alluding to things he had no idea about......like, I imagine there had to be more than a few encounters from his younger years that always stuck with him, and after the Court of Owls revelation like....looked TOTALLY different to him, especially if he happened to know for sure that some of those very people were in fact Court members. BUT I DIGRESS.

All in all though it all circles back to the same thought for me.....people might have been polite to Dick’s face when he was growing up, but they most likely had plenty of shit to say the second his back was turned, and I doubt they were afraid to be overheard by him. Especially in his later years, once people noticed how distant he and Bruce seemed to be, and thus perceived that as meaning that nineteen year old Dick Grayson wasn’t as ‘protected’ by Bruce the way he was when he was younger.....meaning the people who were most jealous of Dick’s ‘catapulting’ up the social ladder and eager to knock him down a peg because of that, like....probably would have looked at the relative lack of contact between he and Bruce as far as anyone could publicly tell, and felt emboldened enough by that to up their snide whisper game with shit like gossipping about how oh, the Grayson boy may be back in Gotham again, but we all know he’s just poor Brucie’s consolation prize anyway, why, if he really cared all that much about the boy, he’d hardly have ever let him run off to Bludhaven of all places, without even making sure to staple the advantages and opportunities granted by the Wayne name to him the way he made sure to right off the bat with the younger one.....

So yeah. There’s my angsty musings on how Dick likely is perceived by Gotham public at large, and how his interactions with them - especially when NOT around Bruce and Jason and the rest of his family....probably very much does not match up with what they assume public perception of Dick is, given that in their eyes ‘everybody loves Dick Grayson,’ but in Dick’s experience ‘everybody may be charmed by Dick Grayson while he’s doing his best to be charming,’ but don’t mistake that for acceptance. Not when Gotham’s public are just as likely to dismiss him as the second choice Wayne heir and consolation prize to make themselves feel more important/elevated than him the second their own insecurities have them feeling intimidated by the wealth, power and prestige Dick does actually share in by virtue of being part of Bruce’s family.

[fandomfix13]

Should've Been You - JJ Maybank X Reader

Should’ve Been You - JJ Maybank X Reader

Y/N finds herself in a rough situation with Rafe and JJ steps in and makes Y/N realize it should’ve been JJ all along

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Slight violence in relationships, Lots of swearing, underage drinking (pls be safe!), Some pretty cute fluff

FIRST THING I'M POSTING SO GO EASY ON ME! I'M WORKING ON REQUESTS AS WE SPEAK!

XOXO

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You sat in the kitchen with Sarah and John B while you waited for Rafe to finish getting ready. It had been 45 minutes since you had first sat down with them, and Rafe still seemed to be taking his sweet ass time.

“Jesus, I thought I took forever to get ready.” Sarah huffed as she sat back and entangled herself in John B’s arms. You loved how comfortable and cute they were with each other. It had been a long time since you felt that way with Rafe. It’s not that you were necessarily uncomfortable with Rafe, but things didn’t feel the same as they used too. “Guys thanks for waiting with me, but you guys should really get going, I don’t want us to make you late.” you said as you saw the time. “Are you sure? We can wait, I'm sure he’ll be done soon.” Sarah said.

You shot John B a look that said ‘go’ without having to say it. “Yeah, Sarah she's right we really should get going.” he says as he takes her hand to stand up. You mouthed a quick ‘thank you’ to John B and he nodded in return as you walked toward the couch. As the two of them walked out the door, John B slipped back in telling Sarah he ‘forgot something’.

“Hey are you gonna be okay?” He said walking over to you on the couch. “Yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?” you said in a tone that was too rushed and sounded nervous. “Because I’ve known you since you were six years old and that look that you gave me was your ‘get the hell out’ look” he laughed. “I don’t have a ‘get the hell out’ look!” you mocked him. “Oh you absolutely do and you gave it to me. Is everything okay? With you and Rafe?” He knew you too well, there was no hiding anything from him. “Yeah. He’s just….being Rafe.” you shrugged not feeling the need to go into detail. “Y/n?” he said sitting down next to you. “John B?” you returned not giving him the satisfaction of knowing what's on your mind. “You’re not gonna budge are you?” he said, looking right at you. “Not even a little.You really need to get going. You wouldn’t want to miss you and Sarah’s big entrance would you?” You said walking toward the door with John B following close behind you, you turned around to see John B giving you his ‘tell me what’s going on’ look. You opened the door once again telling him to leave. This time he had accepted his fate and walked out the door. “If you need anything, we’re all gonna be there tonight. Okay?” he quickly added. “Okaaayy.” you sighed, “now go!”

You closed the door and started walking back to the couch when you heard the sound of Rafe’s bedroom door open. As he came down the stairs you noticed something wasn’t right which in the moment you chose to ignore. That was until he came up from behind you in the kitchen and wrapped his arms around you and started kissing your neck. You didn’t mind that kind of attention but this wasn’t like him. You could smell the alcohol on his breath and as you turned to confront him about it you saw his eyes. They were glossed over and dilated. His hands were shaking on your waist and there was residue of white powder under his nose. “Next time? You might want to look in fucking mirror after you snort coke off your bathroom counter.” You said with the calmest tone you could possibly have at the moment.

He rolled his eyes at you and turned around walking towards the door to leave. “Rafe we talked about this!” you yelled after him “No! YOU talked about this. I just sat there while you ran your mouth as usual!” He stopped in his tracks to turn around and yell right back. “You know how important tonight is! Could you not even have the decency to show up sober and get fucked up later?!” You hated when he got like this. So messed up that he was an asshole to everyone and anyone is his presence including you. “Tonight is important for my DAD! It’s not important to me! He probably doesn’t even want me there! Sarah’s there, that's all he cares about. So sue me for wanting to show up already gone.” part of you felt bad for him in a way. It hurt to see him struggle, but it also hurt to fight him on it. “Rafe we need to go. We are going to miss our entrance which is just going to piss your dad off more.” you tried to be calm. “Oh right, our entrance! Yeah I’m sure that everyone is going to be so thrilled to see me walk in with a fucking pogue!” he said in such a demeaning tone that you hadn’t heard before. You were taken aback by the words that just came out of his mouth. You always had a thought in the back of your mind that Raph didn’t like that you hung around with the pogues, but you never expected him to really say it. “Wow. Okay. Um. I’m not doing this with you right now. We have a party to get to.” You say making your way to walk past him and out the door. He tried to stop you by reaching out for your arm but you quickly pulled away. “Y/n wait.” “Don’t fucking touch me right now. We need to leave.”

-

As you arrived at the event you plastered on the biggest smile you could as you held Rafe’s hand and walked in greeting all the guests that approached the two of you. Old teachers, business owners and their plastic wives, old friends. All people that you truly did not care too see. You looked around the crowded room for any one of your friends to appear to provide you with a sense of normalcy. You spotted Kie standing with her parents also shaking hands with people she clearly had no interest in seeing. JJ was waiting for the guests. Pope was helping his dad with the food. John B and Sarah were outside secluding themselves from the socialite society that was this room, and you were standing hand in hand with Rafe who just 15 minutes ago was throwing insults at you.

You walked outside to John B and Sarah who were talking about how ridiculous some of the guests look in their outfits. “Hey if you two get to hide out here, so do I” You say approaching them from behind. “Trouble in paradise?” John B said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Just needed some air. The overwhelming smell of chanel number five and expensive champagne was starting to give me a headache.” You said only slightly joking. You all shared a laugh and you made your over to stand with your friends. “Drinks?” Sarah asked. You and John B both nodded without hesitation. “I’ll be right back” she said as she walked off the porch. “So.” John B said slowly turning his head towards you. “So.” you replied. “What are you really doing out here?” he said knowing that the excuse you gave was only half true. “Rafe just said some shit to me about being a pogue before we left.” you admitted. “I’m sorry, are you surprised?” he said with an attitude. “John B please don't be an asshole right now.” “Alright, okay I’m sorry. He didn’t... hurt you did he?” he said with concern in his voice. “No. He wouldn’t. He can be a dick I’ll admit, but he wouldn’t hurt me.” As you said this Sarah approached the two of you once again holding three beers. You sit there just the three of you, for a good 15 minutes before you thought you should probably go find Rafe. Not that he wanted to be seen with a pogue, but you should at least pretend like you weren’t beyond pissed at him.

As you walked through the crowded room saying your ‘hello’s’ here and there you realized Rafe was nowhere to be found. Your first thought was maybe he left. But then you realized that he wouldn’t leave a party that had so much alcohol and access to expensive drugs. You walked past JJ who was carrying a tray of champagne. “Hey J, have you seen Rafe?” you said following in his trail of champagne drop offs. “I try to never see him at all, so no I have not.” he said in his usual smart ass tone. “Ok. What about Topper?” he laughed “Considering I put a gun to his head I absolutely make it a point to not see him either.” you opened your mouth to speak again and he cut you off “Don’t ask about Kelce either. I haven’t seen them around anywhere. My guess is that they are in the bathroom making bets on who goes home with the hottest girl tonight.” You rolled your eyes at him and walked to the hallway where the bathrooms were. It was empty. While there was nobody in sight, you could hear the boys in the locker room.

Just as you decided to walk away, Topper stumbled out of the locker room. To say you were surprised to see him obviously fucked up would be a lie. You tried to quickly walk the other way so he wouldn’t see you, but you weren’t fast enough. “Were you stalking us Y/n?” Slurred Topper. God they sucked when they got like this. “Stalking you? Please. I have better things to do than stalk you. I was just looking for Rafe.” you said trying to ignore Topper’s attitude. “Rafe! Your pogue princess is out here lurking in the hallway waiting for you!” he yelled back into the locker room. You rolled your eyes at Topper’s label he put on you and waited for Rafe to come out of the locker room. He appeared almost instantly looking even worse than he did before. He was sweating, from the amount of alcohol in his system, and his eyes were beyond bloodshot.

“Jesus Rafe you look like shit. I left you for 15 fucking minutes! You look like you just went on a 3 day bender.” you spat out at him as he walked towards you. “And what are you gonna do about it?” He said cornering you. “I’m going home.” you said as you brushed past him. He grabbed your hand, harder than he tried to back at the house. “Oh come on Y/n, I’m just having a little fun. Don’t you wanna have fun?” he pulled you close to him whispering in your ear as he talked. “Fun? No. This isn’t fun. YOU aren’t fun when you’re like this.” you said trying to escape the tight grip he had on you. “Let go Rafe.” you said calmly. He started backing you up into the corner again, this time with a look in his eyes that you had never seen before. “You don’t want to have fun with me?” He said as he started to kiss your neck. “Rafe. Stop. We aren’t doing this here.” your voice was shaky. The way Rafe was acting was scary. All you could think about was all the warnings your friends tried to give you that you just ignored. Rafe was still nipping at your neck while running his hands through your hair. “Rafe get off. Im serious.” You said a little louder this time hoping that someone would hear. You could tell where this was going and you weren’t about to let that happen. “Rafe!” you yelled this time attempting to shove him off of you. As you started to shove, Rafe was pulled off of you. JJ.

“She said get off asshole!” JJ yelled as he swung at Rafe’s face. Great just what you needed. A scene at the biggest most formal party of the year. Rafe was not one to be messed with especially in the state he was in. Then again, neither was JJ. “JJ! Don’t!” you yelled really not wanting to see either one of them get hurt. Rafe swung back at JJ, and he swung hard. Fists were flying all over the place. JJ’s nose was bleeding, Rafe’s eye was swollen, but they just kept going. You knew that you should honestly just let them hash it out, but if you let them continue, one of them was really going to hurt. Plus, knowing JJ, he could’ve had the gun with him. “Guys! Stop! Please don’t do this!” as you stepped in in attempts to break up the fight, you felt Rafe’s elbow come in direct contact with your eye. “Holy shit! Y/n I didn’t-” rafe stopped as he was cut off by another punch to the jaw from JJ. “Do you feel like a big boy! Do you feel good now that you just gave her a black eye?! Fuck you bro! Fuck-” “JJ! STOP! I’m fine really. I swear just stop.” you yelled interjecting once again. The rage in JJ’s eyes was something you’d only seen in movies. “Jj look at me.” you tried getting him to look at you so you could break him out of the state of aggression he was in. Rafe stood back in shock that he really just hit you. It may have been an accident, but it wasn’t something that you were going to forget. JJ was right, you were most definitely going to have a black eye. “Jj.” you grabbed his hand and he directed his attention towards you as you pulled him away from Rafe.

“Y/n I really-” Rafe began as you turned around and got in his face cutting him off almost instantly. “No. You don’t get to talk to me anymore. If you would’ve just backed off when I told you too we wouldn’t be in this situation at all. You’re dangerous, and I cant do this anymore. We’re done Rafe. I’m done!” You said almost crying. You were so overwhelmed by what had just happened that your emotions were about to explode. “I’m dangerous? How about your little pogue friend over there? Huh? He put a gun to Topper’s head!” he shot back. JJ looked as if he could’ve thrown another punch at Rafe at any minute. “Well my ‘little pogue friend’ didn’t just punch me in the face did he?! You did. You got so fucked up that you couldn’t even chill out for 1 second! JJ put a gun to Topper’s head because if he didn’t you were going to let Topper drown John B. So yeah, you’re dangerous.” this time you were angry. As all the emotions ran through your body, there was no control over which ones were going to appear.

“Alright, fine! If you wanna be a bitch about this, be a bitch. I should’ve known better than to fuck around with a pogue.” he said is one of the most arrogant tones you had ever heard. You got as close as you could to Rafe so he could see the tears pooling in your eyes. You don’t know where it came from, but you raised your hand and slapped him across the face as hard as you could. JJ instantly came up from behind you and grabbed you by your waist as he pulled you back in fear that Rafe would swing for you on purpose this time. “Don’t you EVER call me a bitch EVER again, or I swear to god next time a gun is pulled on you, the trigger will be too!” you spat at him. You honestly don’t know where those words came from, but the thing that scared you is that you meant it. “Is that a threat?” Rafe said quietly as he stepped toward you. JJ pulled you back and told Rafe to back up while he whispered to you to relax. “You bet your ass it is.” JJ started walking the two of you away from Rafe as Rafe decided to speak up once again. “You’re fucking crazy!” he yelled down the hallway at you. You laughed with tears now streaming down your face. You turned around and looked him dead in the eyes. “And who’s fault do you think that is?” with that you and JJ walked out of the hallway and outside the nearest door you could find. You needed air, and you needed it fast.

-

JJ opened the closest door to outside that he could find and the second the cool outside air hit you, you fell to the ground and broke out into uncontrolled sobs. You always had a feeling that Rafe would end up breaking things off with the two of you but you never thought it would go down like that. JJ just stood there eyes wide. He had seen you upset before, but he had never seen you like this. You were broken. You sat there in the sand sobbing and mumbling a string of ‘oh my gods’ and ‘whys’ and you couldn’t stop. JJ kneeled down and just pulled you to his chest just holding you. He didn’t say a word, he just let you cry. The way he held you calmed you down little by little so you could at least catch your breath again. You looked up at him and gave him a little smile as he grabbed your face and you winced at the feeling of his finger resting underneath your swollen eye. “You need ice on this ASAP. I’m going to go get you some.” he said, sounding concerned as he stood up again. You nodded as he walked off but yelled out before he went inside “JJ. wait!” He stopped in his tracks and looked back at you. “If you see the others in there, please don’t say anything!” you cried. You didn’t need everyone knowing about this right now. If they knew now, they would cause a scene and ruin the night. You were going to tell them you just needed to process what the hell just happened. He nodded and went inside.

As you sat outside by yourself who just tried your hardest to breathe. Your heart was racing and you just needed to slow it down. You laid down in the sand and looked up at the stars and looked for the north star because you remembered Sarah saying “everything revolves around it” and that brought you a sense of comfort. Just as you found it JJ came back outside with ice for your eye. You sat back up and looked out at the water as he sat down next to you. He put his arm around you as you rested your head on his shoulder. The tears were still flowing but you weren’t crying anymore. The two of you sat in silence sighing back and forth. “I’m sorry for not stepping in sooner.” he said looking straight ahead. “Don’t be sorry. I’m just thankful you did.” you returned reliving the moment with Rafe in your head. His kisses on your neck were getting more aggressive, he was pulling your hair, his hands were wandering off to places that you didn’t want them to go. You started to cry again. “I was so scared JJ.” you buried your face in his shoulder once again letting small sobs out that you tried to hold back. “Shhh. I know. I know. It’s okay.” he was holding you again, his hand rubbing circles on your back. “He’s such an asshole! I feel like such an idiot! You all warned me about him! You all told me how awful he was and I just thought maybe you were wrong! I didn’t listen and I should’ve!” JJ shook his head and looked you in the eye “Hey stop. We knew he’s an asshole, that's a given, but the way he treated you tonight isn’t okay. It’s not your fault and you need to know that.” your head fell back to his shoulder and he laid his head on yours just before gently kissing your forehead.

You both just sat there in silence once again so you could catch your breath. “You know, you got pretty badass in there. That thing you said about pulling the trigger was intense.” JJ chuckled. You laughed a little at the thought of JJ thinking you were a badass. “The scary thing is, is I think I meant it.” you looked up at him. “Oh I know you meant it.” you both laughed. “You deserve better than him.” You looked up at him and slightly smiled at his comment. “I mean it. You deserve so much better. You have a lot to offer and people who can’t see that don’t deserve you.” something about this moment was different. As much as you loved JJ, you could both admit that he never said things that nice to anybody. “Thank you.” you said, smiling at him. He just nodded and looked back out at the water. “I’m sorry about all the shit I said about you and Rafe when you were with him. I should’ve just let you be happy, and for that I’m sorry.” He said, still looking out at the water. “It’s okay.” you said in awe that JJ maybank was actually apologizing for something. “No it’s not, I should have just supported you, but instead I just ran my mouth because in all honesty I was just jealous.” he rambled. “What?” you questioned. He was now looking away from you off in the distance. “I couldn’t stand seeing you with him. All I could think about was how much I wanted it to be me. Which is ridiculous and not a good reason to make you feel bad.” your heart started beating fast again, but this time in a good way. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?” you got no response. “JJ please look at me.” he looked at you and you noticed his eyes were pooled with tears. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey you shouldn’t be with him because you should be with me?’ I couldn’t say anything because I love you. And if I said that to you I would lose you. And that would hurt much worse than holding it in.” you looked at him in a way that you hadn’t looked at him before. He had never been this open with you about anything. There was a moment of silence before you did something you did not expect to do. You reached up and placed your hand on his cheek as you leaned in and kissed him. It was slow and sweet. It was nice. You opened your eyes to see his eyes on yours right as he kissed you back, placing his hand on the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. “It always should’ve been you.” You said before you sealed the moment with another kiss.

[twinsarekeepers]

The more I reread the PJO series, the more clear it is to me that Annabeth isn’t white.

(I know y’all are going to be in my mentions like “oh but she has blonde hair and grey eyes she can’t be black or brown” and I KNOW! I know RR saw her as a white girl when he was writing the books. I am aware of that fact. It just so happens that I can see a ton of my own experiences (specifically related to being a brown woman) in the way she’s perceived by other characters.)

So, like, in the first book, she was so mad at Percy because he got a quest even though he knew particularly nothing about the demigod world (and everything he did know was stuff she taught him) and she had been working basically her whole life to get one. I mean, seriously, she was more equipped to lead a quest because she’d literally lived on streets before. (And I know they banned quests after Luke’s and it was a special circumstance so they had to give one to Percy but it’s so clear that he has no idea what’s going on and that he agrees to bring Annabeth along because he knows he’ll need her intelligence and expertise to complete the quest).

And, like, she is literally the most educated, knowledgeable person on the Argo II, ffs she’s LITERALLY the daughter of Athena, but her intelligence is constantly questioned. (And I know it’s because RR was like “oh it’s because she’s blonde” 🙄 Istg, I’m going to strangle that man in his sleep). But, who is the most educated demographic in the US and are still constantly overlooked and their intelligence insulted? Black women. I just—RICHARD, IT WAS RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU IM GOING TO SCREAM!

The other characters see her as this strong, tough warrior, but she literally cries in every book. That’s not to say she’s not strong or tough or a warrior, but she is also soft and gentle and that’s extremely overlooked by not just the characters, but the fandom as well. The way she holds Percy’s hand in times when he’s stressed out and assures him when he’s feeling like he can’t do something. The way she comforts characters who are in emotional pain like Juniper and Silena. When Piper first got to camp and Annabeth showed her around and tried to make her feel at home. Even when Drew was being mean to Piper, Annabeth didn’t take sides and instead mitigated the tension. She cheered Hazel up after her fight with Jason. Frank came to her for advice and she was very considerate of his feelings and comfort. She was intuitive enough to figure out why Leo acted the way he did and than she defended his actions to Frank. These are all things that she does that are vulnerable and show her heart but most of the characters still view her as scary and intimidating.

And they see Annabeth as strong enough to just handle emotional turmoil all by herself. Like, y’all remember when Percy was kind of surprised that Annabeth needed a hug in BOTL? (Why? He’s seen her cry before. He’s seen her need comfort before. What makes him think it would be a one time thing?). Or when he didn’t tell her that he was worried about her? (He really said “stay here and protect Nico and Rachel”. And then in his head he was like, “I didn’t tell Annabeth but I was worried about her too.” MY GUY?? WHY WOULDN’T YOU TELL HER??) Or how about when she was literally sobbing on the ground after seeing Luke turn into Kronos and Percy, Rachel, and Nico were just … standing around, talking. Percy literally tried to pick a fight with her in that moment. Like, wtf was that?? (I mean, he tried to be a little bit more gentle with her when he was telling her to get up and leave but at that point, the damage is done, dude, you’ve already kicked her while she was down).

This connects to how she’s stripped of her femininity. The fact that she’s canonically good at weaving (a traditionally feminine task) and it seems to be forgotten by all the characters and even the fandom. The fact that she enjoys wearing dresses and makeup and jewelry but Percy finds those things awkward on her (I made a post about that here if y’all want to read it. The Richard stannies found it though so beware the notes). There are so many instances in the books where she so obviously fits into a traditionally feminine role but they’re glossed over or ignored. As a South Asian woman, I know how this feels.

Okay and then on Circe’s Island, when Circe said something like “oh and that HAIR!” and Annabeth was like “what’s wrong with my hair?” …. That’s a micro aggression if I’ve ever seen one. I just know if Annabeth was a white girl with type 3, loose ass curls, Circe would not have said that shit.

And all of the reasons we think Percy is not white ALSO APPPLY TO ANNABETH. Like, she went to through all the same stuff that Percy went through in the mortal world. She literally said as much in the beginning of TLT.

Annabeth is just so clearly not white to me. And the fact that RR didn’t see how so many of her experiences lined up with a black or brown woman’s will actually be my villain origin story. He really wrote “she’s oppressed because she’s blonde” with his whole chest. Great job in proving how much of a rich, white man you are, Richard.