#but whatcha gonna do if you live with an asshole

[rebeccccccaaa]

Poker Face!

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Spencer Reid x Reader

:: It’s game night at Rossi’s, a little pasta al dente, poker chips from Emily’s place, and a little too much Italian red wine. Poker after hours becomes a new playing field when you and Spencer decide to finish your game of blackjack back in his place. ::

:: warnings :: smuttt! and super mushy gushy fluff, sex under the influence (both parties drank alcohol), strip poker (kinda you’re playing blackjack), afab!reader, no mention of contraceptives oops...

:: authors’ notes :: i didn’t realize until i finished the story that spencer probably has his own poker set, he’s literally from vegas; anyway thanks for all the love on my last fic too sweet, hope you guys enjoy this one just as much <3

WC~ 3.1 k

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“Ok, ok! That’s enough!” Emily shouted, swinging her glass around. 

“Careful, Prentiss. This carpet is fine Italian wool. Gifted from my first mother-in-law,” Rossi scolded, Hotch chuckling beside him. 

“You guys are relentless,” she continued.

“I can beat him, I know it!” you shouted, your eyes comically wide. 

“No shot, sweetheart. Reid is literally banned from every casino in Vegas, you think you can really beat him?” Derek commented.

“I may not be banned from Vegas casinos, but I never lose Blackjack,” you argued.

“Honey, you’ve lost eight games in a row!” JJ shouted, laughing and holding her stomach. 

“Nevermind that! I’m gonna beat you Reid, if it's the last thing I do,” you narrowed your eyes playfully at Spencer, who sat as dealer with a giant grin on his face.

“I hate to interrupt this incredibly captivating game of Blackjack, but I’m kicking you out. It's late and an old man’s got to get some rest,” Rossi interrupted, erupting a series of ‘Boo’s’ and groans. 

“Come on, come on. Call your DD’s, call your taxi cabs. Or if you want to stay, you can start washing the dishes,” he bargained. 

Suddenly, all at once, everyone stood up practically scrambling and giggling like kids to avoid cleaning up. Penelope, Emily, and Derek hopped into a cab and Hotch drove JJ home then himself considering he hadn't anything to drink that night. That left you and Spencer, lingering on the sidewalk nudging each other in a fit of giggles. 

“I assume you’re gonna take a cab?” he asked you.

“That’s the plan.”

“So we can share since I don’t live far from you. I’ll walk from your place,” he suggested. 

“Oh no, no. Look what I snatched when everyone started leaving,” you pulled out the briefcase of poker chips that Emily had brought for that night out of your tote, “We’re going to your place and finishing what we started.” 

“Oh boy, you have no idea how long it's gonna take. We’re gonna be up all night!” Spencer laughed, and you gasped. 

“You’re an asshole,” you shoved him, before calling a taxi.

You squeezed in the back of the cab, legs bumping against each other. You felt your skin light up, you’ve always felt a certain way about Spencer. I mean who wouldn’t? Well actually, not a lot of people. You always tried to hide the pangs of jealousy or your faces of reluctance whenever the women you were working with or interviewed on cases would flirt with him, unnecessarily albeit. This happened more often than you care to admit or notice. 

You walked into Spencer’s apartment, tossing your bag on the couch before falling to your knees and putting the briefcase on his coffee table. You opened it up and began shuffling the cards, quite intensely to make sure Spencer wasn’t going to cheat. You knew he wasn’t, his brain was too smart, but you did it for confidence instead. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asked from the kitchen.

“Whatcha you got?” you asked.

“I’ve got a couple of beers, probably a little old. Oh, I still have the bottle of wine that Rossi gave to us for the new year,” he told you.

“Oh! Bring the wine! We’ll drink the beers later,” you winked at him, “Let’s get the fucking party started.”

It was late into the night now. You lost count how many times you’d lost to Spencer already. Just a couple of hours passed, and the wine was almost finished. You and Spencer couldn’t stop laughing and wiggling around. As Spencer shuffled the deck, a request you made him do after every turn, you came up with a devilish idea. One that would definitely get you in trouble should the outcome be anything other than what you would hope. 

“Ooh,” you cooed, mischievously.

“What?” Spencer questioned.

“Oh, nothing, just had an idea,” you were smirking, or rather trying really hard not to burst into laughter. 

“This can’t be good,” he mumbled, shaking his head. 

“Why don’t we spice things up, shall we?”

“No, no way,” Spencer already knew what you were going to say. 

“Strip Poker!” 

“No!” he shouted, a big smile on his face contradicting his words.

“What, you scared? Scared that suddenly I’m starting to beat you and you’re gonna have to take all your clothes off?” you teased.

“No, I am a gentleman and I’m not gonna sit through watching you take all your clothes to prove a point,” he argued sassily.

“You are way too confident for your own good, Dr. Spencer Reid. You’re just chicken.”

“Ok, fine then. You dealer, or am I?” he asked, pouring the last bit of wine into your cup. 

“Why don’t you hit me this time,” you said. 

“You got it,” he responded, “Care to shuffle while I grab the beers?”

“Of course. About time we crack those open,” you smiled widely. 

Now sitting down, face to face. Staring intensely at each other for a moment, hints of mischief and amusement in both your eyes. As you shuffled the cards well, Spencer couldn’t help notice the way your eyes were practically sparkling in the warm light of his apartment. How soft your skin looked in the light too. He doesn’t know when it happened. If it happened just now, or maybe he’s always felt this way about you. 

Maybe it was those times where he felt a little more protective over you than the others on more brutal cases. The feeling of responsibility for you, to guide you, when you first join the team since you were the same age. Or maybe it was when you let him practically talk your ear off about peculiar facts regarding the case you had wrapped up. The small smile of your face knowing he thrived in these moments. The sweet giggle you let out when Morgan and Prentiss groaned knowing he would begin yet another tangent. 

Yeah, it was definitely then he realized how special you were and how much he wanted to keep you in his life; in more ways than one.

But in this moment, when you handed him the cards with the most devilish smirk on your face, Spencer felt a wave of avidity, longing for you more than he ever has before. He felt so conflicted about the game you were about to play. He respected you so much and yet craved to see you, to have you, in this very way for so long already. He didn’t know what to do. He dealt the cards however, entertaining the idea, and you tapped the table for cards before taking a big swig of your beer.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, Spencer’s breath hitched. 

You took off your earrings first and Spencer quirked an eyebrow. 

“What? Were you expecting me to take off my shirt right away?”

“No,” he shrugged before giving you the deck to shuffle again. 

“I swear to-” you cursed, pulling off one of your rings this time.

Your shoes came off, then your socks. All your accessories were scattered on the table before you. The last game you stood up unbuttoning your pants. Spencer clenched his jaw, averting his eyes downward as you peeled your pants down your legs. It took quite literally everything in him to not drool over you. You sank back down to the ground, the bottom half of your body shielded by the table and Spencer looked back at you again. He dealt the cards. You asked for a card, and Spencer knew then you would lose. The probability was certain. When he hit Blackjack and you didn’t, Spencer gulped and you sighed in defeat. 

Staring boldly at Spencer, you disrobed your last garment that would give you some kind of modesty. Your bra is on full display with nothing else but your pair of underwear. You had a crucial decision to make if you ended up losing again and you were seriously considering that would be the case, the butterflies erupting violently in your belly. 

“We don’t have to keep going,” Spencer cleared his throat.

“And why would I do that?” Maybe it was the alcohol in your system that gave you this sudden courage, this seduction. You were starting to have fun seeing Spencer squirming on the couch, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. You suddenly wanted to egg this round on as long as you can. 

“Ok, then,” he muttered, as he dealt the cards, slowly this time.

Spencer had a face down card, assuming it was a value of ten like always, and an eight. You had a seven and a three, you were fucked. You needed an ace and you’d hit blackjack, or you could build up; but that’s risky. Maybe Spencer can go over. You had a chance, you know it. Your chest was moving fast and shallow, but your face was stoic and firm. Spencer on the other hand was antsy; his eyes frantic and his leg bouncing. You knew he was staring at your chest. You planned to use it to your advantage. Was it fair game? Yeah, yeah it was. It wasn’t your fault he was distracted.

“Hit me,” you egged.

“You got it,” he responded. 

A five. Fuck. 

Spencer hit himself and he drew a seven. Those are bad cards. He most likely went over and you might actually finally beat him. 

“One more time, boy wonder,” you snapped. A six. A beautiful six of hearts. 

“I stand,” he mutters, probably knowing he lost. 

“Let’s see those cards, baby,” you teased.

“You first,” he told you, and placed your cards. 

“Blackjack, baby!” 

Spencer laid his cards revealing his seven and eight and underneath a nine, he busted; the cards of course. You won, you finally won. You jumped up in celebration, prancing in your undergarments around the room giggling and cheering. 

“I did it! I fucking did it! I beat the boy genius, fair and fucking square! You lose Spencer, loser!” you shouted taunting him and he couldn’t help the smile painted in his blushing face; he almost forgot you were prancing around almost naked in the middle of his apartment. 

“I- I was distracted,” he shuttered. 

“Damn right you were,” you joked, squeezing your breasts to flaunt them in his face. 

“It wasn’t fair game,” he bantered.

“It wasn’t fair game, my ass. I won and you lost, and you’re being a sore loser,” you mocked as you walked towards him like a panther, playfulness and seduction dripping from your tongue. 

Spencer took the moment you walked near and grabbed your wrist yanking you to stumble into his lap. You were shocked, surprised, a little turned on. You held onto his shoulders, your breathing a little quicker than before. You tried to convince yourself it was from the celebratory dance and not the growing bulge from Spencer that poked you from beneath. 

“I told you, I was distracted,” he told you, his hands finding a place at their hips. Fingers caressing delicately the hem of your underwear. 

“Blah, blah,” you whispered.

“Don’t give me that.”

“Now, Spence, I believe there is something you have to do, is there not?” you whispered.

“What’s that?” he bantered.

“You lost.”

“Right, unfairly I might add,” he joked.

“If all you’re gonna do is talk, then let me do the honors,” you told him. 

“Be my guest.”

Your fingers pulled gently at his tie he wore, pulling over his head and tossing it to the side on the floor. You started unbuttoning his shirt, Spencer staring with heavy eyes at you as you did so.

“I thought we were only taking off one item. We should play another round then if you want my shirt off,” he teased you, bringing his hands to gently hold your wrists.

“Like that’s gonna happen,” you rolled your eyes playfully. 

Spencer relaxed against the back of the couch as you unbutton his shirt all the way. You brought your lips down to kiss softly at his collarbones and his shoulder. Moving along his chest to kiss the other side. His hands moved slowly against your hips, fingers sliding between the fabric of your underwear and your skin. Your skin erupted in chills, a tingle running through your spine making your ears feel hot. You dragged your nose along his strong jawline before nipping your teeth playfully against his cheek. 

He brought his hands up, fingertips tracing your spine until he reached your bra. He skillfully unhooked it leaving you a bit breathless for just a second but a second too long. You could feel it, without even needing to look at him, to know he had such a teasing smile on his gorgeous face. You wanted nothing more than to kiss it off him. 

You shrugged your bra off, tossing behind him giving him a playful wink which made him chuckle. You brought his hands to your breasts as you pulled his head towards you by the back of his neck to kiss him feverishly. Something you both had wanted to do for quite some time now. You wiggled your hips a bit, feeling the prodding against your center, which made Spencer groan lowly in the kiss; his hands squeezing your breasts hard in discomfort. 

“Fuck, you’re gonna drive me insane,” he told you.

“Let me say hi to your little friend, Spence. Or do you want to play for that too?” you taunted him.

“God, no. I couldn’t wait a whole other hour for you to beat me again,” he bantered making you scoff and roll your eyes; his hands shot straight to his zipper to pull his pants down just enough for the both of you. 

You were practically itching to get your panties off. Standing up suddenly, both you and Spencer reached instinctively to pull them off you, his lips attaching themselves to your soft belly and hips. He freed himself from the constricting fabric of his pants and pulled you down, or rather yanked you to him. You couldn’t help the bubbly laugh that came from you making Spencer smile blissfully. 

You bite your lip as you reach between your bodies, lining Spencer up against you perfectly. The warmth radiating from you was driving him crazy. It took everything in him to not suddenly take control and rut his hips against you. You sank slowly down on his length, not so little, you thought yourself.

“Oh jeez, I feel like I could come already,” you gasped, the pressure building in the pit of your stomach felt already overwhelming. Maybe it was the fact you hadn’t had sex in years. You felt starved of this kind of touch, this kind of intimacy. The kind of feeling of Spencer’s cold fingertips touching and gliding across your skin like you were glass. Yeah, that was the feeling you didn’t know you needed, you didn’t realize you craved so much until this very moment. 

“I’m a bit embarrassed to admit the same,” he chuckled breathlessly, “If you don’t start moving, I’m not gonna be able to hold myself back any longer.”

You took this as the green light to start rocking your hips back and forth. One hand resting against his cheek and the other stabilizing yourself against the frame of the couch. Spencer’s hands rocked with you, his way of helping and understanding the rhythm you were going. He started, with gaining confidence, to buck his hips into you and that’s when the pleasure began to build. You panted heavily above him, moans every now and then escaping your mouth to echo against the walls of Spencer’s small apartment. 

“Shit. You feel so good,” he breathed out, “I thought I’d last longer.”

“Please, please don’t come yet,” you begged; bringing your forehead to his. You could see his skin becoming shiny with sweat, his cheeks flush with redness. Spencer, determined to make you come before him, or at the very least with him, reached between your thighs rubbing fast and swift circles against your clit. Your hips jerked with pleasure and Spencer’s name dripped from your lips like honey. 

“Oh, that’s it,” Spencer whispered. His free hand came up and pulled you in a passionate and sloppy kiss. His tongue entwined with your and you moaned wildly as did he. His brain was fuzzy, not that your’s wasn’t also, with the sounds of sex, the rhythm of your hips, the warmth of your slick soaking his fingers. 

“I’m close, fuck I’m so close, Spence,” you whined.

“Let go, sweetheart.”

“Ngh!” you moaned loudly. You dipped your head forward resting your forehead in the crook of his neck. Your bodies were so close, your bare chests pressed against each other. You both could feel the other’s breath and slowly you began to match each other’s erratic rhythm the closer you got to your climaxes. You messily pressed your lips against Spencer’s one last time before the wave of electrifying pleasure overcame you. 

When you came down from your high, all you could feel and hear in that moment was Spencer. His soft pants brushing your ear, his arms cradling you close, his subtle leg shaking from what you assume was him also coming with you. 

“That was really good,” you giggled.

“It really was,” he agreed.

“I’m gonna tell everyone about this,” you whispered wickedly. 

“What?” Spencer questioned fearfully. 

“I beat you in Blackjack,” you reminded him, making him laugh loudly. 

“Give it a rest you would?” he sighed. 

“No way. I’m gonna tell everyone. And everyone’s gonna tease you because I beat you fair and square. Unless, you wanna admit that my boobs were distracting you from your card counting tricks,” you teased.

“Alright, you won fair and square,” he smiled blissfully at you, his eyes soft and gentle in the warm light.

You giggled sweetly bringing him in a tender kiss, definitely not for the last time that night. Your bodies were entwined for the rest of the night until the tepid sunrays peaked meekly through the curtains of Spencer’s bedroom window. The two of you sharing giggles between the sheets with his arms embracing you the way they had been all night. Needless to say, blackjack continues to be your favorite poker game. Especially now more than ever. 

[phoenixblair666]

The Past Hurts

Worst!Logan X GN!Reader: An Enemies to Lovers One-Shot

Request By @j-did-reading: someone please please please write a one sided enemies to lovers fic where worst!logan was enemies with reader in his universe but falls in love with them when he ends up in wade’s

Summary: The reader is from Logan's timeline. They live with Wade after their life crumbles, but what happens when he brings home the same Logan variant from their universe?

Word Count: 2,011

Reading Time Approximately: 8 Minutes

WARNINGS: Angst, Fluff, Name Calling, Cursing, Mentions of Traumatic Experiences, Use of (Y/N), Kissing

This one shot could not have been possible without the amazing proofreading and editing from @techwrecker! Go check out her blog!

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Wade couldn't help but feel the sheer excitement that flooded his body when Logan had agreed to come home with him after their life-changing battle. What he didn't expect was the matched scowls the second Logan had walked through the door. "(Y/N), lookie what I found!" Wade exclaimed as he pushed in the door with his foot, finding you in your usual lounge spot on the couch. "Had a feeling you would turn up sooner or later, asshole. Whatcha bring home this t…" Your sentence was cut short the moment you laid eyes on him. When his met yours, an overwhelming feeling of anger and agitation overcame you.

"I got you a new buddy! He's much better than the one from your world. Arentcha Wolvie, yes you are!" Wade jokes as he speaks to the brute standing in the doorway. His smile is wide as he looks between you, then Logan. A palpable silence falls over the room, so thick you could cut it with a katana. Your eyes narrow when you take in his presence. The same yellow suit, the same hair, and the same shitty attitude. Yup, that's him. "Wade, I need to speak to you," You abruptly stand from your sitting position, making it to your bedroom in record time. Wades left standing next to Logan, a confused look on his face followed by an innocent shrug. He jumps into action when your voice echoes through the apartment. "NOW!"

Wade walks through your bedroom door, finding you pacing back and forth, arms crossed along your chest. He stands there with a raised eyebrow until you stop in place. "Shut the door, idiot." He scoffs closing the door behind him and lifting his hands in defense. "What's got your panties in a bunch, ya little diva?" You're positive that he can see the pure rage on your face when his smile begins to falter. "Why is he here?" Wade's smile comes back full force, clapping his hands like a schoolgirl and jumping in place. "I know what you're thinking, (Y/N), but he's great! I thought a little do-over would do you some good, you know since your Logan was a piece of shit." He exclaims while leaning in and whispering the last part.

Your hands meet your face, dragging them over your eyes as you groan. "He is my Logan, you dumb fuck." You take a moment to try to compose yourself, failing miserably when the weight of the situation brings you back to reality. "You could have brought any Logan back, but you happen to bring home the same one that I fucking hate. What the hell, Wade!" Your pruned companion analyzes the newfound information, internally battling with himself on the next course of action. He's pulled out of his silent battle when he sees you sitting on the edge of the bed with your face firmly pressed into your palms.

"Hey, hey, (Y/N), look at me. It's gonna be alright, okay? Logan's changed since our little adventure, trust me. Get this, he's even been sort of nice to me." You watch Wade's smile grow as he gives you his best puppy dog look. You shake your head, tears welling in the corners of your eyes when you recall exactly why you hate this Logan variant. "You don't get it, Wade. He's the reason why people resented the X-Men. Why people resent me. I left my universe because of this asshole. There are little to no mutants alive in my timeline because of him." Your hands begin to shake as you recall the night of the infamous mutant hunt. Each of your fellow X-Men slaughtered like cattle inside the mansion that was once a home and school for the desperate and needy.

You jump when you feel his arms wrap around you in an awkward, yet endearing hug. "I know, (Y/N), but please give him a chance. He's been broken for a long time. He needs this. He needs us. After all, he did just save every timeline in existence so…" He pulls away, a pleading look stretched across his wrinkled face. You frown, eventually settling on your answer. "Fine, but if he does anything stupid, I will find a way to kill the fucker." Wade jumps to his feet, twirling before dramatically bowing. "Thank you, princess. Your kindness knows no bounds." You scoff pointing to the door. "Out, you dummy." He smiles before chirping, "Apparently it does know bounds " He turns on the balls of his feet, slamming the door behind him. His voice is muffled, but you can hear him through the thin walls of the apartment, "Looks like you're staying with us, peanut!" You roll your eyes, falling back onto the plush mattress beneath you.

You don't realize sleep has overcome you until you abruptly wake, mouth dry, begging for saturation. You turn to the small Spider-Man clock on your nightstand. 3:45 A.M. Jesus, is one restful night of sleep so much to ask for? Your legs flip over the side of your bed, feet meeting the cold hardwood floor as you gain the little strength your body has to offer to carry you into the kitchen. You had become accustomed to roaming the kitchen in the dark. After all, sleeping was not your strong suit. You scour through the cabinets above the sink, pushing Wade's weird coffee mugs aside. You finally settle on a relatively normal glass with "Daddy's Favorite Cup" written on its side. What a weirdo. Before you know it you've downed two glasses of tap water, readying yourself for a third when you hear a voice behind you clearing their throat.

You turn, meeting the same hazel eyes that you have learned to despise. Glaring at him, you sit the glass on the counter behind you, guarding your chest with defensive arms. "Still sleeping in jeans, I see." Logan muses. You scowl at him, watching as his eyes roam over your still form, taking in every detail most likely confirming whether or not you are the same fiery mutant from his universe. "Still an insufferable dinosaur, I see." You mimic. He shakes his head, scoffing as he eyes you from across the kitchen.

You feel heat coarse through your veins at the sight of him. You had no idea where this conversation would lead, but you find yourself staying put as silence hovers in the air. "So Wade told me you've changed. Funny, you still seem exactly the same to me. A self-proclaimed loner, with his head so far up his ass that he can't see what he's running from. Don't think that I forgot how you left everyone behind when everything turned to shit." You poke at him trying to get a rise to confirm your suspicions. Logan's brow rises at the remark, rolling his eyes and casually leaning against the doorframe. "People change, sweetheart. You can't blame me for everything that happened that night. Where were you? Oh yeah, at that sleazy little bar whoring yourself out." Bingo. There was the Logan you knew. "At least I didn't go on a fucking rampage killing everyone on my path. Does that sound familiar?" You spat, venom lacing your words as they left your lips.

Logan's gaze drops to the floor, flashbacks of his past flooding back into his mind like a heavy fog that refuses to leave. "I was angry, (Y/N). The X-Men were all I had. They were my family. I couldn't just let them get away with it. I had to avenge them…" You cut him off, quickly barking back, "So killing innocents was the solution. I mean what the actual fuck, Logan. The humans hated us before that mess, only after did they finally see that irradicating our kind was the only way to eliminate the problem. Jesus Christ, you were no better than Magneto, Logan." Your words slashed through him like a scalding blade. Nothing could kill him, but your words came close. You saw him falter as he ran a hand through his short hair, rubbing his face for any form of comfort.

Your guard begins to fall seeing him at this incredible low. You knew you had screwed up that night, just as badly as he did. You should have been there to protect your family, but you weren't. You're just as much to blame as he is. You're pulled from your thoughts when you hear his gruff voice ring through your ears. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I fucked up. I know I did, but I just want to let the past go. I've been held down for too long now. If I could go back in time, I would change it all, but I can't. So please…" He slams a closed fist against the wall causing you to jump. "Please don't hold it against me anymore. We've both suffered too much. I'm sorry." His voice shakes and you finally see how broken he truly is. Despite every instinct in your body screaming at you to stay in place, you ignore them, slowly striding towards him. Only once your hand rests against his exposed shoulder does he lift his head, finding your saddened eyes looking deep into his soul. Your heart sinks when you see the growing pools of tears fill his eyes.

Any anger that you had held before seemed to wash away in an instant. A simple apology was all you ever wanted. "I forgive you, Lo." Your hand reaches up to his face, hovering just above the rough stubble against his chin. He leans forward connecting the soft flesh of your palm to his cheek. You brush a stray tear from his face with the pad of your thumb. He clears his throat and scrubs the wetness from his cheeks, reeling for something, anything to say to ease the pain for both of you. "I missed you, y'know. When I didn't find you with the rest I figured you had skipped town." You shake your head, offering a small smile in return for his confession. "No. I wasn't planning on leaving, but the TVA popped up at the mansion a few months after everything went down. They gave me two options. Be sent to the Void or help them out with a dying timeline. That's when they sent me here to aid Wade. Luckily enough for them, there wasn't another variant of me here so I fit nicely." You see the questioning look on his face as you explain why you're here. "I'll tell you everything eventually, but not right now. I'd like to leave the dramatics aside if that's okay." He nods against your palm.

You're surprised when Logan's arms begin to hesitantly snake around your waist, slowly pulling you into a warm embrace. He sighs, deeply inhaling your scent as his face rests in the crook of your neck. "You smell just as good as I remember." His breath fans along the sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine. You run your fingers through his hair, enjoying the domestic display. You had never known Logan to be this soft, this gentle. Maybe he really had changed since his adventure with Wade. "I missed you too, Logan."

You pull away, just enough to catch his eyes. Then your gaze falls to his lips. You watch as they part, almost as if he was going to speak before they close again. The rising tension pulls you closer, leaving your face a few inches apart. In one quick motion, he breaks the distance allowing you to meet in a gentle kiss, filled with compassion, and maybe even a hint of love. Your lips dance along his like the most beautiful ballet. So gracious, so carefully and fully mapped out. At this moment two hearts that had been broken from pain and sadness began to heal, mending back together and uniting as one. This was not the Logan you left behind. This was the Logan that you knew before your whole world had gone to Hell. This was the Logan that you missed.

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚ ˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .

[cowgurrrl]

You're My Only Hope for Heaven

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: oh bitch I'm having a fucking blast with this dynamic the slow burn is slow burning

Summary: An unlikely patron saunters into your bar [3.5k]

Warnings: one (1) creepy guy, one (1) fake marriage, lots of flirting that’s not flirting but it’s not not flirting, one (1) kiss

You try not to make it a habit of picking up bar shifts during the week. Not only is it almost always slow, and you barely make any money, but it's hard to go from teaching for eight hours directly to another job. You'd much rather be at home, grading or doing something for yourself for the first time in weeks. But you couldn't say no when Katie called you, almost in tears, begging you to take her shift so she could deal with a burst pipe in her house. You don't regret doing her a favor, but you do regret other things as you stand behind the mostly empty bar as whatever game is happening plays on the screen above your head. You think it's a UT game. Or maybe A&M. Or any of the other SEC Texas schools with an absurd football budget. 

You're basically yawning your way through your shift and working through your newest painting in your head, trying and failing to not think about school until absolutely necessary. Principal Martinez is cracking down on the stupid minutiae the school board demands of its teachers, and you spent most of your afternoon writing student objectives on the board. On top of that, your art club kids have been begging you to plan a field trip to the local art museum for weeks. You finally relented, but the paperwork is mind-numbing and requires much more work than you thought. Between working, making art, and trying to live your life, you barely have time. 

Another reason you hate working weekdays is the creepy regulars. Normally, you can ignore them on a busy Saturday night, but it's harder when it's as dead as it is. You have no idea how Katie deals with them on a regular basis. It started with a guy at the bar, you think his name is Steve, asking you progressively invasive questions. "How old are you?" "You gotta boyfriend?" "What time do you get off?" One right after each other, even after you made it clear you're not interested. Fake laughing and making excuses to run to the back or change a keg don't throw him off. 

"Keep it up, and I'll cut you off." You finally threaten after he asks you why you're being a bitch. You roll your eyes when the bell above the door rings, probably admitting yet another asshole who's gonna make your night hell. When you turn toward the door, the words leave you before you can stop them. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

"Now, is that any way to greet your customers?" Joel chuckles, and you sigh as he sits down in front of you. Thankfully, his brother is not in tow, and you can save yourself a little embarrassment. "I didn't know you worked here."

"I don't," you say. "Whatcha drinkin'?" 

"Looks like you're workin' to me." He smirks and you shoot him a look.

"You wanna free drink or not?" 

"Shiner," he answers quickly. You hum in acknowledgment, not even bothering with the POS system and going right to the fridge to pull a bottle out for him. You pop the cap off and place a napkin under the beer before sliding it to him. "Are you bribin' me?"

"You've gotta be faster with your questions, Miller. You've already accepted it. Might as well enjoy." You say, and he laughs. 

"Well, alright, then," he says, raising his beer to you before taking a quick sip. "So, what's this, then? You moonlightin' as a bartender?" He asks, and you fight yourself on how to answer. What if word gets back to parents? Administration? They couldn't reprimand you for that, right? You know plenty of other teachers with second jobs, so it can't be that taboo. Still, you're hesitant to open up to Joel. Out of all the people who could've walked into your bar tonight, it had to be him.

"Something like that." You settle on, wiping a sticky spot on the bar to avoid his gaze. If he feels anything negative about you having a second job, his face doesn't show it. He has a soft smile on his lips and a slight sunburn across his nose, highlighting the freckles living there that previously went unnoticed. You want to tease him about not wearing sunscreen, but the joke dies in your throat when he rests his elbows on your bar, showing off those stupid biceps you can't not look at. He catches your eyes lingering near the short sleeve of his shirt and opens his mouth like he's going to say something, but a grating voice from the other side of the bar cuts him off.

"Excuse me, sweetheart! You've got other patrons over here!" Steve yells, and you feel your eye twitch at his attitude. Joel notices.

"What's wrong with him?" He asks quietly, leaning forward over the bar to get closer to you. Looking into his brown eyes and confused expression, an idea forms.

"Pretend you know me." You say, and his eyebrows knit together, every emotion visible on his face. 

"I do know you."

"No, I mean," you sigh. "That guy over there is a regular on Wednesdays, and the girl who usually works is married, so he doesn't try anything with her, but I won't give him my number, and he's making me fucking miserable. So, just... pretend to know me." Joel is bigger than Steve. Much bigger. Probably a whole head taller and much broader than the man on the other side of the bar. One word from Joel, and he might actually shut up or, better yet, leave altogether so you can finish your day without any more hiccups.

"Okay," Joel agrees, and you reflexively reach out to touch his thick forearm and squeeze. You don't even realize you did it until he smiles like he won a staring contest or something.

"Thank you," you say before turning and bracing yourself to deal with Steve. "What can I do for you, sir?" You ask, but before you can even finish your sentence, he holds up his empty beer bottle and waves it in front of your face like you're stupid. 

"Another beer." He says, and you bite your tongue. 

"You got it."

"Finally," he groans. "You'd think for such an easy fuckin' job, you'd be better at it." 

"What the fuck is your problem?" You ask, refusing to move from your spot to get him his beer, and he scoffs.

"My problem is that you're bein' a fuckin' bitch and ignorin' me when I didn't do nothin' wrong." He's slurring his words together at this point, and you wordlessly go to the POS system to close his tab and send him on his way. "Hey, I'm talkin' to you!" He yells after you.

"Hey, man, why don't you leave her alone? She's just tryna do her job." Joel speaks up from the other side of the bar, and Steve straightens up in his seat as he assesses Joel. 

"This isn't any of your fuckin' business. Stay out of it."

"It's my business now. That's no way to speak to a lady. I think you owe her a mighty big apology." 

"I don't owe her shit," he spits, and you look over to see Joel setting his jaw and squaring his shoulders. "Why's this even matter to you, big shot?"

"That's my fuckin' wife you're mouthin' off to," Joel says without hesitation, and you quickly school your expression. Wife? You asked him to play along, but you didn't think he'd say that. "So, if you wanna keep the rest of your teeth, I suggest you apologize to her, leave her a nice, big tip for dealin' with your sorry ass, and get yourself a ride home." 

Steve is silent as you take the empty bottle away from him— just in case things get really ugly— and slide him his card and bill. He eyes Joel carefully for a few tense seconds before picking up a pen, signing his check, and leaving without another word. The second he's out the door, you feel a weight lift off your shoulders and sigh at the relief. You scrub a hand down your face and look over at Joel.

"You okay?" He asks gently like you're a spooked horse, and you nod. You take a few minutes to get yourself together, putting in Steve's 30% tip and cleaning off the empty bar before returning to Joel. "What?" He asks when he catches you smirking.

"At least buy a girl dinner before you call me your wife." You say, and he laughs, shaking his head. 

"You said the other girl is married. I just took it and ran," he says. "And I already tried to take you to dinner, but somebody said no." 

"School regulation says it's unethical." 

"Well, we're not at school now, and you're certainly not a teacher right now." He says smoothly, vaguely gesturing to your all-black outfit, and you give him a look. "What time d'you get off?"

"You're gonna get me in trouble." You whisper, and he leans forward across the bar. 

"All I did was ask you a question." He whispers back, playfully mocking you. It could be the smile on his face, the relaxed humor behind his eyes, or the fact that he stood up for you because you asked him to, but you glance between him and the clock and take a deep breath. 

"I get off at 12. Unless it stays dead like this, then I'm closing early," you say, and his smile grows. "But this is not a date." 

"'Course not." He chuckles, and you raise your eyebrows at him. 

"I'm serious. I need you to say it's not a date, so I know you won't come after me if your kid fails my class." 

"Is my kid failing your class?"

"No, she's amazing. But for my own mental well-being, I need you to say that this is not a date." You say, and he grabs your wrist to stop your anxious wringing. 

"Let me buy you a drink. That's it. Nothin' more," he says, squeezing you. "This ain't a date." 

"Thank you." You sigh, and he nods. 

You spend an hour or two idling between conversations with Joel and trying to look busy for any manager who might care enough to check the cameras. You're pretty much done with all your closing duties by 10:00, and you wait until it's been a full hour since anyone else came in to flip the closed sign and do a few last-minute things. When the bar is completely clean, empty, and ready for the next shift, you slink back behind it to make yourself and Joel a drink before sitting beside him. 

"You feelin' proud of yourself for getting us here?" You ask as you clink your glass against his and take a sip. 

"Yeah, I've got the prettiest girl in the whole place sittin' by me," he says, and before you can even scold him, he throws his hands up. "Not a date." 

"Not a date." You repeat.

"Still true, though."

"Don't make me regret saying yes to you, Mr. Miller." You say, and he gives you a look. You like teasing him, especially since you can always see exactly how he's feeling. He's not particularly subtle, contrary to what you're sure others think about him. 

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Joel?" 

"As many times as it takes, I guess," you shrug. "You also clearly have an aversion to being called Mr. Miller."

"My dad was Mr. Miller." He says, and you roll your eyes, groaning and half-folding in on yourself dramatically. 

"Oh, my God, do you know how many men have said that to me since I've become a teacher?"

"Well, it's true!" He says. "Are you sayin' other people are tryna tell my wife to call ‘em by their first names?" He asks, and you laugh. 

"Believe it or not, you're not the first single parent to ask me out." 

"Am I the first one you said yes to?" 

"So far." 

"So far?" He asks, raising his eyebrows, and you hum. "I'll take it." 

Unsurprisingly, Joel is really easy to talk to. He asks questions about your life outside of work, where you went to school, and what made you want to be a teacher. You ask him about his job and family and, somehow, end up talking about the latest cheesy action film he's seen. When both your drinks are empty, the glasses sit there, the ice slowly melting as you talk into the night. Every time a hint of anxiety creeps up your spine, he makes you laugh or tells you an interesting story from his past and distracts you from it. You lose hours sitting there, and you don't even realize it until your phone pings you with a reminder, and you suddenly see it's past midnight.

"Oh, shit," you mumble, showing Joel the time. "I gotta lock up."

"And you have school tomorrow." He says, and you groan as you stand and grab your glasses. 

"Don't remind me. I've got like five million things waiting to get done there." You say. He watches you step behind the bar, leave them in the sink for the opener to find, and no doubt send a catty message in the group chat asking who closed the night before. His eyes don't leave you even when you reach up and grab your bag, your sleeve falling down just enough to reveal a nasty bruise.

"Woah, that looks like it hurt," he says, gesturing to your arm. "How'd you get that?"

"Promise you won't laugh." Your response does nothing to clear up his confusion, but he raises his right hand and makes a cross over his heart.

"I promise." His tone is gentle and even, but you're still hesitant to actually admit it.

"I fell off a table." 

"I told you!"

"Hey!" You scold. "You promised you'd be cool about it!"

"I promised not to laugh." He says, and you roll your eyes. "They still haven't come to fix it for ya?"

"Would I be climbing on tables if they did?"

"Fair enough," he shrugs. You find the bar keys at the bottom of your purse and walk over to where he's still sitting, your hand resting on the back of your chair. He shifts forward until he can catch the edge of your sleeve and roll it up to see the bruise in all her glory. His fingers are warm, and his touch light as he traces the edge of it, not firm enough to make it ache but enough that you feel the pads of his fingers. You freeze like your stillness will be enough for the feather-light touches to continue, your eyes meeting for a split second. He clears his throat and rolls your sleeve back down for you, drawing his hand back. "Tell you what," he says. "I gotta buddy who gets me a good deal on some spare parts. Let me see if I can track down the part you need, and I'll come fix it myself. Free of charge."

"You don't have to do that." 

"And let my wife fall off tables?" He asks, a smirk pulling on his lips, and you shake your head. "It's the least I can do for the free drinks and, ya know, teachin' my kid." 

"Fine, but don't make it a thing. The maintenance people already don't like me. I can't imagine seeking outside help will make them like me." 

"I won't make it a thing," he promises, leaning back in his chair as his eyes travel up and down your body. He sighs heavily and sucks his teeth like you're suddenly too much, and you smile. "It's a damn shame this wasn't a date."

"What'd you do if it was?" The question borders on dangerous, but you can't take it back now that you've said it. It seems to have piqued Joel's interest, too, because he raises his eyebrows at you.

"You really wanna know?" He asks, and you nod.

"I really wanna know," you say. "How does Joel Miller end a successful date?" He gets a little bashful at the question, a blush creeping up his neck, and you knock his knee with yours to get his attention. "C'mon, don't get shy on me now."

"Alright, alright," he grumbles. "If this were a date, and we were gettin' ready to go out separate ways, I'd walk you out to your car, open the door for ya 'cause a lady should never open her own doors," his voice is slow and low, and he watches your face as he speaks. "And I'd kiss you. Nice and slow so I don't scare ya off or anythin'. I might put a hand on your waist or bite that pretty lip or somethin'. And right when I can feel you wantin' a little more, gettin' a little desperate, I'd stop, say goodnight, and walk back to my truck." His words have a devastating effect on you, and you can't look away from him. The heat rolling off him in waves makes you too warm and flustered. His gaze flicks from your eyes to your lips, his own tongue darting out to wet his plump bottom lip, and you have half a mind to think he's looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. You have half a mind to let him. 

"You're right," you finally breathe. "It's a shame this isn't a date." He nods and stands, his broad chest grazing yours as you look up at him. You're not a science teacher by any means. If you were, you might be able to explain the magnetism you feel toward Joel or what stupid chemical in your brain makes you wonder what tricks he keeps up his sleeve. But you're not. You're an art teacher. So, the only thing you can focus on is the deep brown of his irises and the heavy lashes and crow's feet that frame his eyes. And the swoop of his salt and pepper curls, the tint of his slightly pink forehead and strong nose. You want to capture his image in the dim lighting of the bar, but you settle for committing it to memory to scribble in the margins of your notebook for the rest of the week. Why couldn't you have been a science teacher?

Neither of you says anything as he finally steps away, giving you the space to turn off the last of the bar lights and push through the haze he created in your mind. He lingers by the door and opens it for you when you go to the front and step into the humid Austin night. You lock the doors and give him a small smile when you turn around to see him rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

Then, just as he said, he walks you to your car and opens the driver's side door for you. His truck, the only other car in the parking lot, is parked a few spaces away from yours. It would've been so much easier to just ignore you, get in his car, and drive away, but here he is, being the gentleman he's always been toward you. You step into the space created by the open door and throw your bag in the passenger seat, but don't get in the car. Not yet. He sighs heavily, like he's in physical pain, when you meet his eyes again, and his hand flexes around the edge of your car door. 

"Thanks for my not date." You mumble, and he nods. You're close (and weak) enough that brushing his lips would just take a strong breeze. It freaks you out how okay you are with the idea of "accidentally" kissing Joel Miller. You should be panicking. Alarm bells should be sounding in your head, but the only thing filling the cavernous space is the echo of his voice explaining what he'd do if this were a date. Idiot.

He leans on your door a little more, and your heart quickens, thinking he might actually be the one to make the move. His head ducks just a little, and you get a strong whiff of his cologne, your eyes fluttering shut at the scent. Your throat is suddenly dry, and you're all but pushing up on your toes when he swerves past your lips and presses a chaste, firm kiss to your cheek. His beard scratches your soft skin pleasantly, and you keep your eyes closed until he pulls away, looking like he just won a prize.

"Get home safe." He says as he steps back, still holding your door open. You sigh and fight a smile as you look at him— cocky, vindicated, and knowing exactly what he just did. 

"Goodnight, Joel." You manage to get out before sitting down and letting him gently shut the door for you. You wait until he gets in his truck to roll your window down and shout his name until he does the same. "I'm gonna get you back for that."

"Oh, I'm countin' on it, darlin'."

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3

[that-damn-fouth-chaosemerald]

Hello ignore this if your requests are closed if not here's my request (•̀ᴗ•́)و

Could I request (yandere simulator) umeji x male tsundere reader? Oh and can he be musumes brother? You chose if they're already in a relationship or not.

Oh and can I go by sunny?

—❢—

×A/N×

Hii! ^^

Sorry because of the long wait! TwT

I feel like it's a little bit shittier than my other works, but I hope it's acceptable-

×❢ About my work ❢×

you two are not in a relationship, musume is badass, umeji is a jerk, male character x male reader, weak bullying, swears, and I think that's all-

Fandom: Yandere Simulator

Character(s): Umeji Kizuguchi, Musume Ronshaku, the reader (you), mentioned the other deliquents

Ship(s): Umeji Kizuguchi x Reader

—❢—

𝐔𝐦𝐞𝐣𝐢 𝐊𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢 𝐱 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞, 𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

(The picture is not mine. Credit to the og creator!)

𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈: Bad boys by Inner Circle

“Bad boys, bad boys

Whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do”

• at the begining, you couldn't believe this yourself either

• in love with Umeji Kizuguchi? Omfg you must be crazy. 0-0

• you couldn't believe this as yourself either

• everyday, you stared at him more and more time

• you didn't notice your own acts btw

• you thougt about him a lot

• basically you couldn't stop it

• and one day, your sister, Musume asked you:

• She was looking the same way where you looked. She gasped a bit when she found out that you watching Umeji, without a blink.

"Oh my gosh, Y/N!" she snapped you from your thoughts (and your stalking).

"What?" you turn to her with a questioning look.

"Do you like Umeji?!" of course, she had to said it like the whole school heard it.

"What?! No!" you feel as you get more flustrated and your face starting to get red.

"Then why are you stalking him?" she gives you a smirk.

"I'm not-, shut up!"

• and then, at home, you started thinking

• you really liked him? Or you just zoned out, and everytime when you think about him your face just simply gets red because of the hotness, right?

• alright, this sounds very stupid, just admin it!

• Yes, you liked him. Very much.

• You stared at him in class (i mean you could just do this time only when he was in class)

• when the school ended and you had to go home

• when the school started and you had to go back to the building

• at lunch

• the other deliquents already noticed you, but he didn't seem to be bothered with you

• maybe he is ignoring you

• you looked away from him to start thinking

• but you couldn't concernate to your thoughts because your sister started to poking you

• "Stop it!" you say it annoyedly.

"He's coming." she whispers.

"Wha-" you couldn't finish your sentece, because when you turned your head forward you saw Umeji as he standing in front of you firmly. Oh shit.

"Can I help you-"

"Stop stalking me. I don't want anything to do with you. Buzz off." he says coldly as he looks down at you with his amber eyes. You felt it as your cheek starting to burn. He talked to you. Alright maybe he was a little bit annoyed, but he talked. With you!

"I didn't stal-" Umeji left before you could finish your sentece. You almost fell on the ground because of him and he just simply leaving?! Asshole. You looked down a bit sorrowfully maybe with some tears. Musume looked up and down at you and the Umeji as he walks away. She stood up firmly and while she walked to him, she shouted to him:

"Hey, pussy!" Nobody will hurt her brother.

• you didn't even wanna look at him after this but

• omg you literally can't spend any moment without just simply thinking about him

• but there was other moments when your cheeks got more red than the usual

• it was a hot summer day

• and Musume decided to bring you with herself to the beach

• you usally don't like to go places like this

• a lot people

• the children are loud

• and there are too many hot guys and girls

• but now you gave it a try

• life is for the living, right?

• and omg what the fate brought you

• correctly, who the fate brought you

• ofc it was Umeji

• you couldn't belive your eyes

• is that really him?

• shirtless, good looking, beautiful amber eyes with blonde hair

• yes, it's really him

• you started to blush as you saw him

• oh wait-

• his friends stood up with him and started walking to your way

• you hided your face with a book quickly

• his friends just simply walked away in front of you, it seemed like they won't notice you

• but Umeji stopped and started analyzing you

• a small sarcastic grin appeared on his face

• "Nice sunglasses, stalker." he said. You felt it as you start to blushing more. He chuckled a little bit because of your reaction, then he walked away.

"Asshole..." you mumbled.

• even if he says that " he doesn't like you " (What is seems like it's not true 😒)

• he definitely loves to make you blush and see you burning just because of him

[mordenheim]

“That was good work”

Jackie slumped down in his chair, hand resting on his forehead as he thought about everything that had happened over the past year. He ripped the dusty old brown fedora off of his head to reveal his close-cropped ginger hair and tossed it aside. Fred had kept up his side of the deal, true, but now he wanted more.

Leaning forward in his seat. He started to grip the bottom of his tattered red and green striped sweater and winced, cursing under his breath. Holding up his right hand, he looked at the bladed glove, turning it over in the dim light of the dust covered bulb overhead. Fresh blood glistened on the knife that extended from the index finger. He had forgotten to take it off again. Carefully gripping the thick brass plate that guarded the back of his hand, he tugged it off and tossed on the table beside his bed.

It clattered on the wood, the blades scraping almost as though it were a living creature, waiting to hop up and skitter off into the shadows. Finally Jackie was able to tug the ratty sweater off of his emaciated, scarred form and toss it to the floor.

Fred hadn't been in his head too much lately, and his nights had been dark and dreamless for once. He really had gotten rid of the night terrors that haunted him ever since he was a boy. Not to mention, he'd taken great joy in watching his asshole bosses crying and whining as their kids disappeared one by one.

He grabbed up a newspaper and grinned a little at the headline. “Springwood Slasher, Back from the Dead?”

“That was all me, but I ain't gonna get any credit for it...”

He grunted and kicked off his work boots before moving over to lie down on the bed. The old springs groaned under even his slight weight and the worn out bed frame creaked and rocked.

“Maybe I should change things up a bit, just so people know there actually someone new in town.”

He closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep. Almost immediately he opened his eyes in nearly complete darkness. His eyes were suddenly seared by a flash of bright red and orange flame as a huge boiler furnace flared to life, the light glaring through the rusted metal door. His eyes darted this way and that as he swallowed hard. This wasn't part of the deal, the night terrors were supposed to be gone!

“That was good work, Jackie.” The voice was deep and harsh, uncomfortable as nails on a chalk board.

Jackie's head snapped to the side to see him standing there. The source of the voice that had been in his head for more than a year now. Same work boots, the same filthy beige work pants. Tattered red and green sweater. He didn't have a hat on so Jackie could get a good look at his horribly burn scarred face and bald head.

“Uh, th.. thanks, Fred. I knew I could get 'em to remember ya! Just like ya said!”

He nodded and Jackie swore he could hear the tight tendons in the man's neck creak as they shifted and moved. “That you did. I can feel them every night now, their fear as they lie down and try to sleep. A fresh new playground for me to find new little playmates.”

Jackie smiled, until suddenly that scarred face was right up in his. He could smell the stench of burned flesh and the acrid odor of his rotted teeth.

“But that wasn't good enough for ya, was it, Jackie?”

He leaned back from the face, or tried to. He head banged painfully against a wall of rusted metal behind him. “Wh.. whadya mean, Fred? I did exactly whatcha asked for! I made 'em remember ya!”

“Yeah, but now you want the credit. And if you get the credit, well then they won't think it was me, will they?”

Jackie swallowed hard as he felt his gorge rise. He'd never been so scared in his life, until he remembered. “This is all a dream. You can't hurt me! You can't do a damned thing! Because you're just in my hea...!!”

He was cut short as the blades that adorned Freds fingers lashed out and pierced his throat. He could taste copper as blood welled up into his throat and trickled out of his mouth. Struggling to speak, he saw Fred grinning at him and snapping his fingers.

Jackie snapped awake in an instant. He was choking, almost drowning in his own blood as he lie on the floor beside his bed. Apparently he had rolled off of it in his sleep, tipping over the bedside table and the deadly glove had fallen down on him, blades first and pierced his throat. He tugged it free, tossing it aside as his vision slowly went black. In the back of his mind, he could hear Fred's maniacal laugh.

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

A Sisters Love Sequel

You could almost laugh at the enforcers escorting you.

Each cautious of you, even in cuffs.

Some when you were in a cell had even shit talked about you, Silco and Jinx.

That didn't go over well, especially since they had to come into your cell to give you meals.

But now, here you were.

Handcuffed and shackled at the waist, arms and legs as you headed to the top.

You were being sentenced today, by shit for brain councilors, at that.

"Walk." An enforcer ordered, shoving you closer to the middle of the room.

It almost looked like you were on display, displayed as one of the most wanted Undercity residents.

From the whispers that you could hear once they heard your chains clicking, you could tell you had an audience.

The enforcer led you to the middle, standing you still as they tightened your cuffs.

"Don't try to pull anything." The obvious woman under the mask sneered.

"Me? Never." You mused with a smirk, only infuriating the enforcer more.

But they couldn't do shit to you. Not in front of your admires.

It was pitch black in the tower, barely able to see In front of you.

But as a light shone above you, whispers flickered throughout the entire tower.

All you could do was smile at them all, even with their disgusted eyes judging you.

You looked at every councilor, picking each apart until you got to Jayce.

The man just stared at you, but you could see the slight fear and disgust in them.

"Do you know why you are here today?" A sudden voice called out.

It was the councilor Mel Medarda, you'd heard of her from down below.

"Don't you have a list or something?" You shrugged, feeling too tired and annoyed to answer.

"Yes, we do. We just need a verbal answer." Medarda continued, her professionalism almost making you puke.

"Murder, explosives, theft, treason, plotting, other bullshit I can't remember…" you trailed off, almost laughing at the horror on the citizens faces.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself? Or for your companion?" Jayce asked, catching your attention.

You finally got angry, him telling the council Jinx was dead was part of your deal.

The guy seemed to fucking lazy to even hold up his end.

"Jinx is dead." You sneered, hearing the whispers disperse as they listened.

"I'm the one who is on trial, not her." You finished, shrugging off the man's glare.

"Again, do you have anything to say for yourself before you are sentenced?" Council Medarda cut in.

You sighed, not angry or tired, just utterly annoyed at the fucking inconvenience.

"What's the point? I did what I did against your bitch ass city. Get over it."

You heard the gasps at your language at the councilors, but who the hell cares?

You quite actually giggled at the citizens gasps and the arrogant councilors faces.

"Your city is full of assholes who spit on my people for years. I did what I did to fuck over your city for ruining lives, do you expect me to apologize?"

"Watch your mouth!" A councilor man finally stood up, angered at your words as an enforcer held his shoulder.

"Or what? Whatcha gonna do? Bite me?" You teased, laughing at his face.

"Enough!" Jayce exclaimed, seemingly as fed up with this all also.

"You," He turned a pointed look at you, getting a smile in return.

"Are sentenced to Stillwater Prison where you belong, where you will rot for the rest of your life."

Jayce finally finished, waiting for a reaction from you but merely getting a yawn.

Jayce shook his head, looking around as the citizens all looked ready to spit on you.

You simply waved your fingers at them all, holding out your cuffed hands to be dragged away.

You were escorted by more enforcers than before, surrounded as angry citizens tried getting to you.

You laughed at the whole ordeal, waving at them like some sort of celebrity.

Butt, you sorta were right now, weren't you?

Finally you got outside and the fun ended.

"Get in." An enforcer pulled open a car door, another shoving you inside.

You rolled your eyes at them before getting situated yourself.

Other enforcers joined you before the van finally started, looking out the window you could tell you were headed for the shore.

You had to cross with a boat to get to the prison, maybe you can throw an enforcer or two down into the water.

But that thought was quickly put to rest once you heard a deafening boom and the van stop.

Enforcers all looked around confused before another went off, right next to the van.

They all looked at you once you laughed at their horror.

"Never been through this before?" You asked, just as the van's doors were pulled open.

You could see rubble everywhere, fires started and most of all, Sevika was there to pull you out of the van.

"Get your ass out here, Kid." Sevika threw. "Gladly." You smiled, slipping out your handcuffs and ankle shackles.

You'll lazer the others off.

Sevika grabbed your arm and helped you down from the van, just for you to see Silcos goons helping distract enforcers.

Just as you got out the van and far enough away, the enforcers stuck in there were blown to bits.

You watched happily as the van burnt up in flames before you heard a yell.

"(Name)! Did you see that?! I did that?!" You turned around with a smile to see Jinx.

Silco stood there with her, both watching you before Jinx ran.

You followed her lead, meeting her in the middle with a hug as Silco joined.

"Why'd you give yourself up for me?!" Jinx exclaimed, pulling away from the hug to punch your chest with tears welled.

"Cause I knew there would be a plan, plus, your explosives work better than mine."

You laughed, pulling Jinx's hands from punching you as you made her look at you.

"Were you treated well?" Silco finally asked, inspecting you for injuries.

"They were too afraid to do anything." You shrugged, getting a nod from Silco.

You knew he would never do it so you did it yourself.

You hugged the man. Feeling him tense before relaxing, Jinx joined you.

The man stood there with his hands at his sides for a moment.

Then he finally allowed himself to hug his daughters back.

"Come on. No need to linger." Silco finally cleared his throat after a minute.

"Oh! Come on, (Name)! He got new goons we can bother." Jinx excitedly told you as the other goons who dealt with the enforcers began to disperse.

"I just wanna sleep." You complained, being dragged back to the Undercity where you belong.

"Too bad. Well watch the news later."

You did, in fact, watch the news.

It told the terrible story on how enforcers we're killed by Undercity citizens angry at your arrest.

And enforcers and you, were killed in the chaos.

People mourned the enforcers while celebrating your death.

But you weren't really dead, were you?

[toxinoire]

Just something I thought of.

~~~~~~~

The Government Officials are roaming an open area with the intention of building something there. The people living there are all currently protesting that idea, due to the fact that the area is one of their town's sources of materials. But...

Of course, they don't care.

"Careful not to step foot on the minefield."

"Got it."

"Gosh, will those townsfolk shut up?"

Danny Alforth, the lead official, scoffed. "They're being dramatic." He said as he leaned on a tree.

"Sir the minefield-"

"I know, I'm not gonna step on a mine."

The townsfolk continued to yell, protesting the mere idea of these people to strip off their main and only source of materials for some building.

"They're not gonna listen to us." Said Heather Chandler.

"We still have to try!" Said Heather McNamara.

"The whole town is yelling already! They're still ignoring us." Said Heather Duke.

"Ugh!" Heather McNamara groaned.

"Okay, calm down. I'm sure this situation will be resolved soon." Said Lyvara Diorre, a fellow townsfolk.

"Hope so." Said Heather Duke.

Danny groaned. "Assholes. HEY! I'm doing your town a favor!"

"How the hell is getting rid of our only source of materials a favor!?"

"Yeah! It's not like you give an actual shit about lower class citizens!"

"I'M ABOVE YOU UNDERSTAND?! Know your place, you low life cows!" Danny yelled.

"Sir, you're way too close to the minef-"

"YOU SWINES SHOULD LEARN TO RESPECT ME!"

"I need some water." Said Lyvara as she stepped away. She then contacted...a certain person. "Yo Cami, how you holding up?"

Camille Agerton, from the side with the officials, answered. "He's getting agitated right on time and on position."

"Cool, I'll let her know." Said Lyvara as she opened another contact. "Everything's in place."

Veronica grinned. "Perfect." She went to her balcony and signalled someone sitting on the roof next to the balcony.

Betty nodded and aimed.

She shot a landmine in the minefield with a very silent gun.

Causing the explosion, eventually killing Danny.

"Gotta hand it to you Ronnie, this gun is crazy silent." Said Betty.

"Using air pressure instead gun powder is what did that." Answered Veronica.

Betty chuckled. "Still, this was clean. All that will be released is that he got so agitated that he accidentally stepped on a landmine."

"Exactly. And without him, they can't really proceed with this building idea. As this was simply a decoy inspection."

"Huh?"

"Why do you think we had to get rid of him? From investigation, I found out a lot of things."

"Which are?"

"Danny Alforth. A very self-serving man who burnt down his own home, killing his wife and employees in it. All for insurance money. Of course, no one actually knows that. And now, he plans to strip that town of their only source of materials." Veronica chuckled. "Our friend from the government 'approved' this inspection. It's why we were able to pull this one off."

Betty nodded. "I see."

Veronica smirked.

They've done it again.

~~~~~

Whatcha guys think?

[welcome-to-the-flock]

An electronic tinny chime was heard as speakers installed along side walls echoed through the sheep pen. A familiar voice was heard from the old speaker system.

Doc: "Baxter Barnes be a good sheep and come to the clinic for a quick evaluation."

The mad doctor said with a smile in his voice potentially faker and more plastic then the speakers broadcasting it.

Upon hearing I'd be dealing the doctor again I stood there silently like a deer in headlights.

Randy: "If ya have to go, Would it help if I came with?" Randy said putting his hand unto my shoulder trying to comfort me.

Baxter: "Sigh..." "I guess?" "I guess It'd baa, be better then going alone."

He opened the door, and we both walked through it. I felt the cold breeze of the wind blow over my wool, and while normally I like the cold, tonight it only made me tense up more then I already was.

I decided to talk to Randy to pass the time, and maybe ease my mountain of concerns.

Baxter: "So, its baa, been fun hanging out with you guys!Even if I'm sorta, trapped here. I'm going to have to stay here for the rest of the month right?"

Randy: "Yeah?"

Baxter: "So what the fuck would I be doing while living here for that time?"

Randy: "Mostly ya'd have to fill out surveys from the doc, and do work with the rest of the flock. Most the time we do farm work baa, ya have to occasionally do work for him too."

Baxter: "So you guys don't have work for him most the time?" 

Randy: "Yeah."

Baxter: "Well thaats a relief, Not thaat I want to stay here baa, but you guys do not fucking deserve his bullshit."

Randy: "Well thats at least under the assumption ya don't manage to piss him off again. In which case he will end up tryin to "Fix" yer attitude issues. Again..."

Baxter: "I see... Well I doubt I'm going manage to baahave since his idea of baahaaving is being a mindless puppet for him to order around however he pleases!"

Randy: "Despite whatcha may think he isn't all baaad." 

Baxter: "And where is his good side? The Mariana trench, Altantus, The Fucking Moon!?"

Randy: "I don't think he's good guy, He aint', Baa, but He won't be as much of ass to ya if ya actually listen to him."

Baxter: "I'd rather die. Baaasides him being less unsufferabaa when you "obaay" him, only proves how much of a mircomanging tyrant he is."

Randy: "Ya make a point. Baasides yer not really wrong abaa the whole, Puppet thing. The man is a major control freak, Always has been and probaably always will be."

"Maa, Umm the farmer..." "She caan be pretty swell to be around, And since she gives us most of the work it wouldn't be thaaat baaad if ya decided to stay here."

Baxter: "I don't intend to stay, baa, but its nice thaat one of your baa, bosses? Parents?" Does creators work?" 

Randy: "Thaat'd be the most accurate."

Baxter: "I'm glad thaat at least one of your creators isn't a cruel manipulative asshole."

Randy: "Thanks Baaax!" "It means alot!"

Baxter: "Fuck...."

"We're almost there..." 

Randy: "Baax I've dealt with this mans bullshit far more and for far longer then you hopefully ever will. Whatever he's gonna do to ya, I'm sure I can help ya through it."

Baxter: "..."

Randy: "Look ya caan grab hand my if it helps."

I reached my hand over to his and grabbed it. While a feeling of dread still felt thick and overwhelming, It didn't feel as inescapable. If the paranoia and fear of whats to come was darkness, randy s hand acted like a torch, illuminating the night.

Randy: "Ya okay? Cause I think I mighta baaroke somethin."

Seems he definitely noticed how lost in thought I got.

Baxter: "Itsjustthatimfreakingoutandthenyoutouchmyhandandithelpsbaaalso..."

Randy: "Baaax, slow down."

Baxter: "My heart was, already abaa to beat outta my chest and..." "I've never had another guy hold my hand baafore except my dad."

Randy: "Ya want me to stop???"

Baxter: "HELL FUCKING NO!! I mean, ummm. I'd baa happy with, I'd be, fine with you holding my hand. As long as YOU want to thaat is."

As much as I tried and failed to play it cool, I genuinely did want him to keep holding my hand. I held his hand the rest of the way on our walk to that god forsaken clinic.

[thestarseersystem]

Systems, you can do whatever you want, forever. I don't care anymore. And if I care later, that's someone else who pilots this meat body.

Syscourse is stupid. I may scroll through the tag of my own curiosity and outrage, but getting mad over how another system does or doesn't operate is stupid.

I do the following:

Roleplay and make picrews and do silly videos with my alters and dress up

Romanticize my symptoms as a coping mechanism because that's all I got

Edit my shit and constantly fight in my head, because who's actually right here

Take shit personally. Hey what the fuck you looking at??

Thinking about committing and constantly threatening violence. Because evil alters are poggers actually

Half of the system is hypersexual. Including the littles. I've been hypersexual since I was bodily 5 years old. Whatcha gonna do, give me therapy about it? I need it.

Have a lot of problematic behaviors. So what. Who doesn't. You aint pure, bitch

Using names that I wasn't born with. Because apparently people get mad about that. I'm not elaborating. Y'all just wanna trigger ppl with OCD all day, huh.

Etc etc etc.

I'm unpalatable. DID, OSDD and other dissociative disorders aren't pretty or happy or easy to deal with. It's dark and dirty and grungy and sucky and I become an asshole sometimes.

Stop expecting systems to be perfect or having perfect labels and perfect names or perfect existences. We had to do whatever we could to survive, and that means doing morally questionable shit. That means taking up space. That means stop judging people when they do something you don't like. Because they probably are not in recovery or in therapy or getting the right treatment or wanting to get treatment or needing everything you needed.

Systems have no set way to be. Yes, I'm mainly anti-endo and do think all systems come from trauma, but do you know what I'm not gonna do? Go and harass people about it. I block people, constantly. I constantly question if I should block people on my side of things because of their stupid fucking opinions. I stay in my fucking lane and try to mind my own business.

But sometimes I'm a nosy bitch, sometimes I'm curious about what's going on. Because there's no positive or neutral system content most of the time. But there's always some crazy drama going on. And that's what I assume some of y'all are doing when looking at this post.

So, just take a step back and ask yourself, are you willing to die on this hill and keep shitting on other fucking randos on the internet, for shit you have no right to question, or are you going to log off and touch some fucking grass? Because honestly, I don't care anymore, and you shouldn't either.

Live authentically, even if that means being a little punk ass bitch or mauling a stranger.

I'm done with keeping up appearances and masking in this community. I don't need a crumb of validation or acceptance, I'm just throwing this out there to anyone in the trenches. Don't give a shit for a moment. Eat some grass instead of being online.

[whumpflash]

cw: forced drinking/intoxication, adult language, held at gunpoint, violence, unintentional misgendering (Evyr is female)

masterlist ///// next

×××

The sun burned hot over cracked earth, and Judd scowled down at his shadow. He'd been up at the asscrack of dawn when the news broke that a supply craft had gone down over the wastes, but even after hours of combing, he had nothing to show for his work but a few protein bars and some scrap metal. Crash was already picked clean when he got there.

Lousy tip. He should've just left in the middle of the night, taken his chances in the dark like all the other scavengers apparently had. 

Judd briefly considered going back over the remains, checking for anything he might've missed, but dismissed the idea. It was too hot to put out any more effort. Better to get back and try to get a good price on the metal.

As he turned to make his way back to camp, a shape in the distance caught his eye.

A crate, he saw as he drew closer. Some scrawny kid was bent over it, trying to pry it open with a knife. Judd came up from behind just as the kid managed to get the top off, keeping quiet as he got a look at its contents.

It was a full crate of wine, of all things. Luxuries intended for the rich assholes who lived in the floating cities. Shit like that would fetch a huge price if he could find someone who could afford it.

"Whatcha got there?" he said, and the kid jumped a foot in the air, scrambling to his feet and standing protectively in front of the crate. Like he actually stood a chance at fighting Judd off if he decided to claim the goods.

"Nothing," the kid said quickly. "It's– it's mine. I found it fair and square."

"That so?" Judd looked past the boy, at the crate. Sixteen bottles. A fucking fortune, and it was in the hands of a twerp who'd gotten lucky. "Looks heavy. Maybe I should do you a favor. Take some off your hands."

The kid had the balls to put a hand on his knife—a tiny thing that looked homemade—and glare up at Judd.

"Finders keepers," he said, and the man laughed.

"You must be new to this," he said, enjoying the way the boy paled as he drew his own weapon, a knife with a blade the size of his forearm. "Finders keepers only works when you're strong enough to keep the big kids away."

He didn't realize they weren't alone until he felt the muzzle of a gun on the back of his head.

"Haven't heard that particular rule before," a low voice came from behind him. "Fancy yourself a big kid, do you?"

Judd heard the click of a hammer being cocked. He dropped his knife.

"That's what I thought. Get on your knees."

Seeing no better option, Judd obeyed. The kid looked irritatingly satisfied with this development. Couldn't he see that this was worse? He was only going to claim half of the bottles. This new fucker would probably take everything.

"Thanks Skye," the boy said.

Or not.

The gunman—Skye—moved around, putting himself between Judd and the boy. And the crate. He wasn't much bigger than Judd. Definitely a bit older, with a weathered, scruffy look about his face and a grim set to his mouth.

"I know your type," he said. "Loud-mouthed asshole who thinks he can bully anyone smaller than him." He raised an eyebrow. "How's it feel to be on the other side?"

Judd kept his mouth shut, staring the stranger down. Skye, who didn't seem to be after an actual answer, continued.

"Folk like you are the reason living down here is such a hell. Preying on the weak like you're the poster child of 'every man for himself', 'stead of building up the community."

Skye was right about the wastes being a living hell, but how the fuck was that Judd's fault? He was just trying to survive, like everyone else. Unlike the kid, he didn't have a fucking knight in shining armor to watch out for him.

"You gonna shoot me?" he said, glaring up at Skye.

"Not unless you make me," the other man replied. "Scavs need to stick together. Funny as it may sound, I'm not your enemy here."

Sure you're not.

"But you still need to be taught some manners," he continued, glancing around as if searching for an idea. "How about… Ah." His gaze landed on the crate behind him. "Y'like wine, bully?"

The fuck was he supposed to say? It wasn't like he was trying to drink something that could keep him fed for weeks.

"You were so eager to snatch it away from Evyr here. Must mean you're a connoisseur, no? Tell you what. You can have a bottle. Evyr?" The kid darted back to grab one from the crate, handing it to Skye. Judd watched warily. Whatever was about to happen, he knew he wasn't gonna be let off with a fucking party favor.

Skye uncorked the bottle with his teeth, a feat that wouldn't be possible were it not for the crack in its neck, running up to a chipped rim.

"Here." The man extended the bottle to Judd. "Drink."

"What?"

"Did I stutter? Drink." He shook the pistol, as if Judd were capable of forgetting it was there. 

He grasped the bottle with one hand, taking a slow sip. He'd had booze before, but never wine. It was tarter than he'd expected, like someone had mixed rotten fruit with vinegar, and it burned his throat like the cheap alcohol that got sold at market sometimes. Judd lowered the bottle, trying to hide the way that one sip made him cough. 

"Did I tell you to stop?" Skye said, pressing the gun to Judd's head when he made no move to continue.

"Fuck you," he muttered, but he drank.

And drank.

And drank.

He tried to ignore the burning in his throat, the dizziness that was already beginning to reach his head, tried to focus on the cool barrel of the gun. 

The bottle was half gone, and still Skye didn't give any sign he should stop. Was he supposed to drink the whole thing? It was at least a liter, if not more, and even a half-drunk bottle was worth its weight in gold.

But the pistol in the other man's hand insisted Judd finish it.

So he did, letting the bottle drop once it was empty. The world spun around him, worsening the nausea that now built in his stomach. When Skye at last holstered the gun, Judd dropped forward, catching himself on his hands. Then, with a surge of brazen stupidity, he lunged for the older man. 

Skye sidestepped his graceless attack easily, dealing him a swift kick to the face that rocked his head to the side and sent him sprawling.

He didn't try to get up.

It didn't cross his mind to struggle as his hands were moved behind his back and tightly bound.

"Gotta leave him on his side," Skye was telling the kid. "Should keep him from choking." He clapped a hand on Judd's shoulder in a manner that was almost friendly.

"You rest up now, bully. The walk home's gonna be real shitty."

[cabinwritesmatt]

Roomates📘

summary: you’re matt’s college roommate and have become best friends with each other with hidden feelings

just fluff and some kissing!

I stared down at my laptop with tears welling up in my eyes as I sat in my bed. How am I supposed to get this done by 12:00am? I clicked on my phone screen lighting it up so I could check the time 8:23pm.

I audibly groaned in frustration putting my head in my hands. I was getting ready to let the tears fall until I heard a soft knock on my bedroom door.

“Can I come in?” Matt says softly on the other side of my door. “Yeah of course” he walks in with a worried look on his face.

“Whatcha working on? I could hear your distress all the way from my room” Matt says giving me a smile, trying to make me feel better, but when I don’t return one back he sighs and sits down next to me grabbing my computer and pulling it onto his lap.

i just stared at him as he scrolls through the assignment and then into my barely worked on essay. His hair perfectly flopping onto his forehead almost making me feel better.

“Y/n I thought you were gonna drop this class? I mean how does your professor expect you to get this done in one night?” Matt huffs. His words making me feel worse and more stressed.

“Matttt” I drag putting my head in my hands letting the tears fall that i’ve held back this whole stupid assignment. His face drops and quickly rushes to my side. He puts one arm around me and the other one onto my knee, rubbing it softly.

“Shit y/n i’m sorry i didn’t mean it like that. You’ll get it done I promise let me help you.” He says still keeping one arm around me but taking the other one to drag my laptop closer to us so he could start to work on my essay with me.

This is how it usually is for Matt and I. If Matt needs help with something, i’m there. He’s always done the same for me ever since he picked me to be his roommate. Matt still does youtube but decided he wanted to get a degree and enroll in college. Since he was going to be living alone he thought it would be nice to have someone with him. and it was. Matt and I became extremely close after the first semester. Always spending time with one another and helping each other out.

I know Matt sees me as his best friend but at first, I couldn’t help but feel like it was like we were in a relationship. I mean, we slept in each others rooms if we wanted to watch a movie, went grocery shopping together, and drove each other to class. How could I not? After a couple months i shook the feelings and realized it was just how we were.

****

After a long week of absolute hell, it was finally the weekend. Me and my girl friends decided to go out tonight to the bars for a girls night.

I’m sitting infront my full body mirror that sits on the floor of my room with rollers in applying my makeup. Matt sits on my bed behind me scrolling thru his phone.

“Do you really have to go out tonight? I hate sitting here by myself. Who’s gonna entertain me?” Matt says in an exaggerated tone. I giggle at his dramatics.

“You know I can’t back out now. Besides, Ethan will be there and I told him I was going. He’s been texting me all day about my plans” Ethan is a mutual friend through one of my girl friends, Julia, who set us up. He’s cool and easy to talk to. Hot but not as hot as Matt. Not as smart either. Dumb as rocks quite actually. But whatever.

“How do you even like that guy? He’s an asshole and so are his friends. Last time you talked about him you told me he was nearly failing all his classes because he parties too much.” Matt huffs looking obviously annoyed.

“Matt he’s a nice guy. Besides, I have to get out there and give it a shot. My friends are all getting boyfriends and i’m about to be the last single one.”

“So? Why does it have to be Ethan? You deserve ten times better than that kid.”

“I appreciate it but I want to give it a shot. Now get out I have to get dressed. I’ll tell you when i’m ready so you can come judge” I hush him away with my hands. I always show Matt my options of outfits before I go out. Makes him feel included in what i’m doing. Matt gets up all annoyed and walks out my room leaving me to get dressed.

I look at my mini dress in the mirror questing if it’s too much as i’m taking my rollers out. My hair coming out perfectly. I hope Matt likes it. I should be thinking of Ethan but his name doesn’t even cross my mind. He doesn’t really appreciate the little things like Matt does.

“Matt come see!” I yell to him from my room letting him know i’m ready. I hear rustling letting me know he’s walking over from his side of the apartment.

He sits on my bed waiting for me to walk out of my bathroom. As I walk out matt’s mouth slightly parts. I jokingly do a little spin when i’m in-front of him making him slightly smile.

“what do you think? too much?”

“you look beautiful y/n your hair came out perfectly” I blush at his comment. A guys never talked to me like Matt before. He makes me feel special without even trying. Instead of saying hot or bad he say’s beautiful and pretty.

“you always look good” he says slightly lifting his head to meet my eyes. The air suddenly feels thick as we make eye contact. His expression is impossible to read as we just stare at each other for a second.

*phone ringing*

my phone breaks us out of our trance

“hey we are outside waiting for you” julia says on the other line. “okay okay i’m coming just let me grab something” I say hanging up and grabbing my purse, lipgloss, exc. I can feel Matt’s eyes burning into me as I run around my room.

“Okay i’m headed out but i’ll be back late tonight. You know I hate sleeping out.” i say smiling at him. He stands up and walks with me out of my room. “Be safe please. And don’t let anyone give you a drink. Call me if you need anything you know I stay up late I can come get you and bring you home, always.” Matt says with a serious face. “Yes I got it dad, don’t have too much fun without me. Miss you, bye.” I say walking out.

“miss you too”

***

This night sucks so far.

I took too many shots on the way here, Julia handing them to me like water so that i’m eased up to talk to Ethan. I don’t even care about Ethan.

my friends and I are on the dance floor having fun. The alcohol takes over my body as I move my hips to the music, suddenly coming to a stop as I feel hands on them.

“Finally, i’ve been looking for you everywhere” I feel Ethan’s breath against my ear. It reeks of alcohol and he’s holding my hips tight. I turn around to look at him to say hello. He drags me to the bar and away from my dancing friends. Already i’m tired of this.

The night goes on of Ethan being touchy and slurring his words. Constantly going back to the bar so him and his friends can have another round. I stopped drinking once I got here and the soberness is hitting me, making this get old real fast.

“I have to say you look so hot tonight” he slurs. Of course he didn’t say beautiful. That’s what Matt says. He’s not like Matt.

his hands roam my body as he tries to pull me in closer. “Why don’t we order an uber and go back to my place?” He whispers trying to pull me in. “I think i’m gonna head home. I have to up early tomorrow.” i lie. “Y/n stayyy the night has just begun and i don’t wanna go home alone” he says not letting me go.

“Ethan I can’t my rides almost here I need you to let go of me.” he’s still pulling me in as I push away. “Ethan seriously stop.” I finally shove his drunk self off of me and he stumbles back.

“God y/n why are you acting like this? I know you got all dressed up for me tonight. Don’t be such a prude. I knew i should of picked julia” he scoffs and stumbles away. leaving me standing there with tears in my eyes. It’s not the fact that Ethan said that to me, it’s what he said to me.

I quickly walk out the bar bringing myself outside. Taking out my phone to call someone.

“Hey what’s up?” Matt picks up quickly. His voice soothing me as tears still come out of my eyes.

“Can you come get me? E-Ethan just did something shitty and I just wanna come home.” as i’m talking I hear the noise of Matt grabbing his keys and walking out the door.

“Of course i’ll be there in 5. I see your find my friends don’t move i’ll be there soon I promise.” He says as i hear his car starting. “Okay thank you so much.”

“Of course sweetheart” my heart pings when he calls me that name. It rarely ever comes out unless we are in situations like this and every-time he says it i feel like i could melt away.

I sit outside in the cold and wait for Matt’s car to pull up, slightly shivering.

I see his car quickly pull up and him step out and rush over to me. He grabs me and opens the car door. Helping me in without a word but I we don’t need to talk. I know he’s mad about Ethan.

The drive home I tell Matt about what happened. a couple tears falling down my face when I get overly emotional and his hand resting on my knee. Not in a flirtatious or sexual way. Just a way of letting me know he’s here and listening. When we pulled into our apartment complex he came around and opened my car door for me. We walked up to our shared place and hurried in from the cold.

“Go change out of your dress and we can watch a movie if you want in my room? I’ll let you pick it tonight” he said singing the last part as of he was trying to convince me. As if I needed to be convinced. “That sounds perfect”

***

Me and Matt laid in his bed sharing it. I’ve slept in here numerous amounts of times, but something about tonight feels different. I just wanna be close to him. We both laid with our bodies facing each other but our heads turned to the tv. Our heads laying on two different pillows.

“what are you thinking about” Matt said making me direct my eyes to his. His icy ones already staring back at me. “i was just thinking about how shitty tonight was. And how grateful I am to have someone like you” i said giving him a smile.

“i’m really grateful to have you too. I was scared i’d come here and really miss my brothers but it feels really natural and reassuring being with you. Feels like i’m not far away from anyone.” i just blinked at him.

“I know that sounds weird but I just mean i really am glad I chose you to be my roommate and that I have you. You’re always there for me and i’ll always be there for you. You laugh at my jokes and you make me laugh. You’re the best option out there” Matt whispers giving me a smile. “Aww Matt your getting all soft on me” I giggle “Trust me i’m so happy to have you too” i say genuinely.

“come here” Matt says pulling me into a hug as we lay down. I cuddle into him and listen to his heartbeat. Calm and gentle. like him.

“you’re the only guy who’s ever called me beautiful” u blurred out.

he squeezes me before pulling back to look at my face and meet my eyes.

“And i’ll say it every day a million times” he breathed out

“you’re so special to me y/n you have no idea” He’s staring into my eyes like earlier again. the air gets thick again and i feel the tension build up around us.

“give me an idea”

Matt crashes his lips onto mines and somehow pulls me in tighter. As if he wouldn’t I would disappear.

<3333

AHHH first storyyyy let me know if you guys liked it!

[adviansimaginarium]

Update #1: My First Tumblr Update

Hey guys. It's been a while since I made my first post here, so I thought I'd give you guys an update on what's going on.

To start things off, I was a bit busy with college, plus I was also on Twitter more, hence the reason I didn't post too much in September, nor did I post anything in October. And while I did have thoughts of posting on Tumblr here and there, I never really got the chance due to college and using Twitter more than Tumblr. But since I feel like I want to have a place to escape when I feel overwhelmed by college, I feel like I should use Tumblr. And while yes, I do have the option to use Twitter, I feel like using Tumblr to escape better than Twitter. Not that I dislike Twitter or anything like that (despite some grips I have with the platform), I just feel like using Tumblr as that Escapism (as a nod to Rebecca Sugar's song "Escapism", not to be confused with the Steven Universe Season 5 episode of the same name) to escape to whenever I feel stressed or overwhelmed by reality. That, or I just wanna go on here for fun, since I love to go on social media. Whether it be for fun or to escape reality.

Aside from wanting to use Tumblr more often, I also want to showcase my work here. I want to share my artwork (including my OCs, fandom and non-fandom related) and my stories with everyone on Tumblr (and yes, I am aware of how vicious people on Tumblr can be, especially with the unnecessary harassment and death threats targeted towards people having fun with their work, especially artists and writers in particular; but tbh, I...honestly don't give a shit about that. And by that, I mean that I don't care how much harassment and death threats I get sent my way. Because I know that they're being sent by a bunch of sad assholes who love to tear people down because deep down, they're secretly miserable jerkasses who have nothing better to do with their lives other than make people feel bad (either about themselves, their work, or both) in order to make them feel better about themselves).

Works I wanna share include:

My OCs (both fandom and non-fandom related, as mentioned before)

OC What If (a series where I talk about what I think it would be like if my fandom OCs were canon characters in the media & franchises I like: shows, movies, video games, etc.)

OC Opinion (a series where I give my opinion on other people's OCs, while also giving them kind and constructive criticism; if needed, that is)

I know the stuff I mentioned were all OC-related, but tbh, I couldn't think of anything else (and even if I had that thing in my head I wanted to write for this post, I couldn't write it down for some reason). So that's why they're all OC-related. I know it might not be the best answer, but hey, whatcha gonna do bout' it?

With all that said, I hope to post here more often, or every now and then. If I don't, then I'll either like posts and/or reblog stuff. And if I don't either post something or like & reblog stuff, then that means I'm either, busy, lazy, doing something else (like drawing and/or writing) or using Twitter.

Anyways, thank you for reading this and checking in. I really appreciate it. I can't wait to show you guys what I have in store for my Tumblr. Hope you have a wonderful day/afternoon/night. :) ^^

[loremonster]

If you experienced sustained harassment from your peers, what gets termed as Bullying to remove it from a violent context but It Is Harrasment and It Is Abusive And Unacceptable, you know exactly how it got this bad.

The smirking asshat who said terrible things and laughed when you reacted and got YOU in trouble when you stood up for yourself is who this man is.

And this is the end product of teaching the victims of harrasment to Ignore Them, They'll Get Bored And Move On-- because without meaningful consequences there is no reason to CEASE the bad behavior.

Instead, consequences were always visited upon you when you tried to stand up for yourself and say this isn't okay.

Because the system we live in has never been interested in justice. It's interested in compliance. The kids fucking with you are complying with the status quo by abusing their peers instead of resisting authority figures. You are not complying when you demand the system DO SOMETHING about the harassment. So the system punishes the student who made demands, tells them they were in the wrong for not Being The Bigger Person.

Children are children. They need to be taught. And if adults refuse to teach social skills, the kids will figure it out themselves.

I did. I figured out the only way to get a harrassing asshat to go away was to inform them their actions WILL have consequences and I WILL ENFORCE THEM. And they'd laugh and say 'yeah? Yeah? Whatcha gonna do?' At which point I would hit them.

They never tattled. They fucked right off. They found new targets, of course, but I wouldn't stand for that either. When I saw one of my previous herassers digging into a new target, and the victim is crying their eyes out while the adults in the room do NOTHING, I charged in and shoulder checked that asshole to get between them and their victim and bellowed from the deapths of my soul "LEAVE THEM ALONE!"

My lunch table overflowed with people who were cliqueless, coming and going as needed. Some stayed for years and became my close friends. Others only needed the pressure off for a little while before finding someone they could vibe with and forming a new social circle.

Surprise, a lot of these friends would later turn out to be queer or neurodivergant. We didn't have the language to understand why we were herassed and attacked, but we found solace and solidarity anyway. I didn't have that language either, not learning the term non binary until 15 years later, and not knowing I was autistic on top of my ADHD traits until two more years after that.

If I had been in posession of that language, I feel I could have fostered more growth and recovery among my friends. We survived, but if we had known how to talk about shit we could have thrived. But instead we were all clutching one another in desperation to see the next day, all of us coping with waves of self harm and suicidal idiation as far back as elementary school.

That's why Trump screams lies at the top of his lungs; he only cares about being heard before anyone can grow or heal. To keep the argument going, to keep people in conflict so growth is impossible.

When someone lies to your face, you have no obligation to be kind or polite.

When someone lies About You, you should scream from the rooftops that they're lying.

When someone lies about Not You, you should seek the person being lied about and hear them.

Ignoring harassment enables escalation.

how is trump alive?? like hes rlly gone thru his whole life like That …. and no one has ever just fuckin decked him?? gave him the ole one two? knocked his lights out??? incredible

[sumberrymellow]

update

wont be able to draw at all for the uhhh foreseeable future? i dont know for how long but right now i’m not able to use my drawing tablet because it’s fucked and i’m not allowed to sell it and buy a new one either i’ll post again once i’m able to i promise

[anika-ann]

Ice Cream (S.R.)

Type: comfort fluffy/dirty blurb

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 1300

Summary: You didn’t have exactly a great day - had an awful one, really. But it’s nothing a tub of ice-cream and a loving boyfriend couldn’t fix.

Warnings: 18+ for implied smut and suggestive language... and for that terrible pun/innuendo Tony came up with, brief violence

A/N: I’m gonna write a drabble – this time actually short, but really! Hahaha. Ahahahah, right. Here, have a very spontaneous blurb I wrote instead of studying baguette, which I’m gonna do now, excuse me-- 💕

It was a trying day for you, it truly was.

You overslept and nearly twisted your ankle as you had been rushing to a meeting that naturally had to be happening outside the Avengers Tower the exact day your alarm failed you and half the New York decided to drive in the very same direction you needed to go, making for a brutal traffic jam.

To add insult to the injury, the supplier turned out a grade-A chauvinist and spoke in such a nasty humiliating way that hadn’t it been for the boss of your department, you would have actually put some of the fancy defensive moves Steve had taught you to good use.

You were utterly and completely done by the time you got the Tower despite securing the contract.

Luckily, you had just the perfect cure for a terrible day – well, your terrific boyfriend did. He truly was a real-life superhero rooting for the underdog that today had made you feel like.

Steve knew that a simple solution was often the most effective one; a promise of cuddles, movies, ice-cream and possibly some adult fun to make you feel you were anything but a pretty trophy wife to a New York senator or something, and you’d be good. The last bit was a bit of an issue for a moment since Steve wanted to track Mr. Asshole and have words with him – or alternatively, take you out to buy you an engagement ring only three months into your relationship to give the douche a real reason to talk – but you convinced him he had more urgent matters at hand, specifically you.

He was setting an improvised cinema in your shared room, leaving you in the charge of snacks, which led you out to the communal Avengers’ kitchen.

With the idea of a relaxing evening with your wonderful not-a-husband, you were close to humming under your breath as you gathered a tub of ice-cream and two spoons, contemplating whether Steve would be willing to watch the newest season of your favourite and very guilty-pleasure-like show on Netflix.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you turned from the freezer and was met with the sight of Tony nursing a large cup of coffee. Had you not heard him? Worse, had he been there the whole time and you simply hadn’t seen him?

Never mind-

“Whatcha got there, little thief?” he demanded, eyes narrowed accusingly as if you just committed the worst crime of all.

“A tub of ice-cream? Which I can take because this is a shared kitchen and we can eat anything that’s not signed – your words not mine?” you sassed back, sharp tongue not leaving you since the very fruitful meeting.

“Whoa, whoa! What do you need ice-cream for?”

You made a face, utterly confused – not too inclined to have this discussion with him, but not wanting to be completely rude.

“For a movie night. You know – snacks? Aren’t you supposed to be a genius?” you teased, earning a flabbergasted expression in return.

Alright, now this was getting weird-

“Can’t Cap just give you his own ice-cream?”

Huh?

“We don’t have our own freezer…?” you offered hesitantly, noticing the corners of Tony’s mouth twitching slightly.

Oh god, this was some kind of a trap, wasn’t it? You were so not in the mood-

“Maybe. But you two are dating, living together so I’d think-- and he was a frozen popsicle himself for a while. So if he gives you any cream, it’s practically an ice- OW!“

The spoon flew swiftly and hit him in the middle of his forehead with a deadly precision, making not only for a delighted and surprisingly dull sound, but also for an expression of such shock on his face – and yours – that you were suddenly feeling hundred times better despite Tony’s highly inappropriate joke.

Seriously, you didn’t even know how you did it – you should be proud of yourself. You were sure Steve would.

“Goodnight, Tones,” you hummed, spinning on your heels and leaving him frozen himself, still gaping at you.

Just before the door closed behind you, you could hear him calling after you, finally gathering his filthy wits.

“Ya’ know, if you never got to the creamy part of his popsicle, you need to try harder!”

You rolled your eyes and didn’t dignify his words with an answer, cradling your tub of ice-cream, a smirk tugging on your lips. You in fact did get to the creamy part, okay, quite often, but that was none of Tony’s damn business.

“Well, you look chipper,” Steve commented as you entered the room, finding him with a genuine smile adorning his lips as he laid sprawled on the bed, offering you the best spot in your home-made cinema – his arms.

You didn’t hesitate to climb right next to him, scooting as close to him as possible, handing him your prey.

“And just one spoon, huh?”

Minutely surprised, you stared at his fingers as he toyed with the single object indeed. Oh. Right. Just one.

A slow grin appeared on your face as you looked up at him, causing him to raise an eyebrow at the no doubt unexpected pride in your face.

“I threw the other one at Tony.”

“…okay?”

“He deserved it,” you clarified, as if it was needed. “Hit him straight in the forehead – surprised myself to be honest. And him.”

Steve stared at you for a split second, stunned, and then he burst out into a full-belly laughter, pulling you into his cocoon of glee and comfort.

He pressed a smacking kiss on your forehead, body still shaking and he nuzzled your hair.

“Atta girl. Clint would be very proud.”

“Uh huh,” you hummed, giggles overtaking your body as well, your smile so broad it made your cheeks hurt. “Actually…. I hope Jarvis recorded it,” you called out toward the ceiling, hoping to have a prove of your impeccable aim.

“I did, miss. Shall I make a back-up in case Mr. Stark would try to delete the footage?” the British-voiced A.I. asked politely and you wondered, not for the first time, how Tony managed to create a program which was as much of a little shit as he was.

“That would be wonderful, thank you, J.”

“My pleasure.”

Oh the pleasure is all mine, alright, you thought, nuzzling further into Steve’s warmth, ice-cream momentarily forgotten.

He ran his fingers through your hair, gently scratching at your scalp, drawing a content purr from you throat, sending pleasant tingles down your spine

“You feeling any better, sweetheart?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

You nodded to his chest, pressing a lingering kiss to his sternum.

You did feel considerably better – happy, safe and energized at once. And all of sudden, you did not want to simply lie down and watch a movie – you breathed in Steve’s cologne mixed with your perfume and something distinctively him, knowing exactly what you wanted to do instead.

Carefully freeing yourself from Steve’s tight and loving embrace, you grabbed the ice-cream and set it on the nightstand, earning a raised eyebrow that was quickly joined by the other when you moved to straddle Steve’s lap.

“I feel great… but I bet I could be even better,” you hummed, slowly, oh so slowly leaning in to capture Steve’s amused smile with your own, not hearing a word of protest. “Because all of sudden, I’m craving a very-”

Kiss-

“-very-“

Another kiss lingering this time, just a peek of tongue to taste the laughter he had graced you with-

“-different kind of cream.”

You could feel the twitch of interest, Steve’s large hand sprawling over your lower back, guiding you to press just an inch closer to him, to meet the heat he was radiating, the firmness of his body, his lips demanding dominance over yours.

Yet, you whispered a few more words you knew would be your doom and salvation at once.

“And I don’t particularly care where on my body it goes.”

S.R. masterlist

R.I.P. actual ice-cream on the nightstand... 

Divider by @firefly-graphics, header pic from pixabay.

Thank you for reading! 🥰 Let me know if this blurb brought a smile to your face 😘

[dykesville]

Video description below the cut.

[Video ID: The speaker is a white woman in a camisole filming herself in her home with the front-facing camera. She says:

I think today was the most fulfilling day of my life. Okay. I'm in New York City. It's pouring buckets, torrential downpour, global warming has arrived. I've got my umbrella. I'm almost to the library. I'm like eye on the prize when I cross paths with the teeniest, tiniest little old lady to ever old lady, okay. She's like, is she a hobbit? Is she a person? She probably lives in a teacup, four feet tall. She's got two hands on a walker. Her wig's slipping off her head. She's got no rain gear whatsoever, and she's going negative miles per hour. Again, it is raining like God finally said, you know what? Screw it. And it's just taking a piss on the earth. So I'm like, this is someone's grandma. Are you joking? I walk up, I'm like, "Hey, where are you going? Can I walk with you for a second to hold the umbrella?"

She's like, "Oh, just to that street corner. That would be amazing." I'm like, "Let's go." I'm getting rained on. No big deal. Won't take us that long. We go across the first intersection. We get halfway and it's, it, the light changes. We're in the middle of the street, in the middle of New York. I'm like, "Here we go.

I've got my umbrella over Maggie, and a city bus is approaching. Okay, I've got my hand out. I'm like, "Don't do it." Meanwhile, Maggie's monologuing about being born in New York. All these incredible stories from like the last a hundred years. I'm like, "I would love to listen, but I'm, I'm in a, a battle of will with Stu the bus driver who's playing chicken with me," he's like tapping his brakes, but not slowing down. I'm like, "You think I'm gonna let you take out teacup grandma? Over two counts of vehicular manslaughter and my dead body, Stu. I've never lost a game of chicken. Let's fucking go."

So he finally slams on his brakes. I hear the people on the bus be like, "gasp!" Faces hitting seats in front of them, and he starts screaming. He's like, "What's your problem?" He's gesturing at the light. I've only been in New York for four weeks, but something took over me. Okay? So I'm screaming back, "Mind your manners." He's like, "Whatcha doing?" I'm like, "Watch your attitude." Maggie's like, "Did the light change?" She starts trying to walk faster. I'm like, "Her walker's gonna get out in front of her. She's gonna fall. Absolutely not." I'm like, "Maggie, you've got plenty of time. Take your time." And she's like, "Someone's yelling." I'm like, "He's got a bad attitude. He can deal with me." She's like, "You're a funny lady." I'm like, "Ha ha. Hey!"

We get across the intersection. We've gotta go the other way. Okay? Now we're crossing this way. The same bus driver's trying to turn right, and again, he's trying to edge her out of life. This other woman behind me walks up. She's like, "Hey, you're getting soaked. Do you need backup?" She's holding her umbrella over me. I'm like, "Yeah." She's like, "What's this asshole's problem?" I'm like, "I don't know. He's a dick." She slams her head to the side of the bus and she goes, "I know you fucking see her." I'm like, "That's right." We get Mag, Maggie, across the street. It takes us 35 minutes to walk half a city block. Okay? She's telling me all about these incredible things about her life. She teaches poetry. She sings at this building on 1:00 PM on Saturdays. It's her birthday tomorrow. I'm like, "I think you're the love of my life."

I'm soaked to the bone, but I'm gonna go bring her flowers and a birthday card where she told me she sings tomorrow afternoon 'cause it's her birthday on Sunday. And she, she looked at me and she said, "Hey, write this in your book. 'cause you earned it today. A walk in the rain is never just a walk in the rain in New York City." I was like, "Damn it, that's a good line." And she's like, "I know, I'm a poet."

End ID.]

Maggie the poet