#certain middle aged people you can just tell they are miserable with their life and he was one of them

[msdk-00]

anyways knows i wouldn't be da talk of tim hortons if i wore a mask around still. the nans would spend a good ten minutes talkin bout me at least. did ya see ang's daughter. going around wit da mask on er face still. shockin. but she looks right like er mudder dudnt she.

i should give dem a lil smthn to think about as they eats their timbits n drinks their coffees. we don't have much goin on here they needs it

[gremlingottoosilly]

Cleaning services (perv!Konig x fem!cleaner!Reader)

Konig needs help in decluttering and cleaning his house. Unfortunately for you, he takes quite a huge liking in having pretty things like you around. And he isn't very nice about it.

TW: Perverted Konig, age gap, Konig masturbates at you without consent, implied kidnapping, yandere Word count: 3754 This work on AO3

There is no shame in having a professional cleaner, König tries to tell himself. 

Yes, he is a grown man with a very dangerous job that requires having a lot of responsibility. He holds the lives of his soldiers in his hands and risks his life every day not for the sake of his country, but certainly for the sake of his wallet and the reputation of KorTac. 

Hiring a professional cleaner for his house shouldn’t make him feel humiliated and embarrassed, and he knows it. Cleaners are basically like soldiers – doing stuff that other people can’t for a certain amount of money, providing services for the clients who can afford it. Besides, it’s a support of his local community – after everything he took from the people around his town, it’s only natural that he would support this growing business of cleaning services. 

There is no shame in having some nice old lady cleaning his house and watching over it while he is too busy trying not to kill himself or drown his head in liquor after a particularly rough mission. When you lose two guys on a run that was supposed to be the quickest task possible when you’re returning home with an injury that isn’t really that serious but brings your whole mental state into a very dark place, and when you’re forced to take 3 weeks of leave in the place you hate, hiring a cleaner to take care of everything really shouldn’t make him so ashamed of himself. 

Even if he can clean his space – the house is just too big for only one of him, and his ribs still have this funny feeling of fantom bullets traveling around his guts. So, he dials up the number of the cleaning services because he is too fucking old to understand their weird website and messenger ordering, even though speaking with a human operator on the other half of the line is somewhat more humiliating that having no idea of how to use a modern interface. 

There is no shame in asking for help, his therapist is trying to shrill it in his head all of the time and yet he is still hesitant when the cleaning professional is knocking on his door, finding this place surprisingly fast. König braces himself, thinking about all the ways he could avoid having a conversation – he drew a quick map of the place, put down the room cleaner shouldn’t be entering – his gun safe, mostly, already repeated in his head how he would greet them and swiftly extract himself from the situation. 

“Guten Tag, please, come in. This is the map of the place, don’t go to the red door on the right, don’t hesitate to ask questions, I will be on the second floor.” He takes a few wide, swift steps to his door and stops. Thinks again, overthinking, thinking too fucking much about everything, anxiously checking on his phone to read the message that yes, his cleaner is here and he should probably open the door or they would burst down the window. “Guten Tag, come in. Map of the place is here, don’t go to the red door to the right, please hesitate to ask questions, I will be somewhere around the house, lurking in the shadows” He braces himself to open the door, ready to see that sweet old lady who would spend the next 8 hours cleaning his house and then turn back another day to rinse and repeat until his house stopped looking like a place where a very, very miserable man lives. (Even if this is true) 

But, there isn’t a nice old lady with a bunch of cleaning supplies and determination to make someone’s life easier. 

But, there isn’t a cold middle-aged woman with a very professional no-nonsense attitude who wouldn’t even talk to him before going straight to work. 

But, there is a young girl. Well, not a girl, of course, if he had to guess you were somewhere around the “Too fucking young, but definitely legal” spectrum. Young enough to not be alive when he was already going to school, young enough to make him sweat, and definitely not old enough to be accepting a job where you’d have to spend so much of your life cleaning and scrubbing and sorting and…

There isn’t anything shameful in ordering a cleaning service when you genuinely need it, but you’re young and you’re pretty and he isn’t even wearing a mask because he is an old dumbass that forgot about it, and you look at him with your shiny eyes and…

Maybe, he should clean on his own – would definitely be less shameful. 

— Sir? H…hello? Good morning? Can you hear me? 

Yes, he can hear you. 

Yes, he would love to hear you every single day of his life, when he wakes up and when he falls asleep. 

— Ja. I apologize, I…thought it was mail. 

It’s a dumb excuse, but he can’t really say that he was just too fucking mesmerized by your shiny eyes and perfect hair and nice figure and basically everything about you. He has this nasty habit of imagining a future with people around him – with people who just fucking want to be left alone, and yet he still stares and looks and it’s probably ultra uncomfortable for them – but he can’t help imagining the life with every cute lady in the grocery shop or elegant lady sitting next to him on a train. 

He has a pattern – people who are not interested in him in the slightest. He has a pattern, a preference, cute girls, smart girls, popular ladies that were never even so much as looking in his direction. He could probably score someone now, having a colonel’s salary and honorably discharged payments, but he gave up on trying to find anyone. He has friends, company, has work where he spent most of his life anyway – he doesn’t need anyone, he wants to think. 

Then you waddle into his life with a bunch of cleaning supplies and a small vacuum, barely able to handle everything in your hands. He rushes to help and envelops your hands with his – you are so much smaller in comparison, he has bear-like arms and horribly big everything. he feels awkward when he gently removes everything from your arms – when he tries to help by simply putting everything on the table of the next room. 

König hated this house – it was big, it was empty, and the only reason he didn’t sell it was because Mother’s things were still locked in her old bedroom and every time he tried to clean it and evaluate the cost of the house, he decided that he will Do It Other Day. Coincidentally, all of those days were also followed by three-month minimum missions, making him utterly unable to do everything about this place anyway. 

This is why you’re here – a hired cleaner, a sorter, you promised to de-hoard everything and see if there is anything of value. Perfect for someone like him, especially since he is paying you double for spending the whole day and a few days more in his house exclusively. 

Now, he looks at how awkward your smile is, how you fidget with the edge of the broom you brought, and how you can’t even start a conversation because he is simply staring at you, staying in the living room of this dead, almost abandoned house. Now, he looks at how cute you are, how perfect, and remembers that he didn’t score with anyone in half a year already – not even in terms of sex, the casual flirting was also forbidden since half of his unit was transferred and the new people weren’t really fun of his tough methods of breaking rookies in. 

When was the last time someone genuinely smiled at him? 

Ah, he is staring again. Scheisse. 

— Where do you want me to start, sir? 

He wonders how much he should pay you to clean him instead. Would you be gentle? Rough? Would you call him a pervert, which he is, and then slap him and yell at him for being such a horrible old dog who is ready to pounce at every pretty girl in his presence? He would do anything that would set his mind free of the thought about Mom. Her bedroom. This whole house that he can’t call home ever since he turned 6 and understood why Father was always so, so angry. 

— The living room. If it’s not too much. 

He barely stops himself from talking more – you look weird, you loom surprised, you look at him like he is fucking stupid and, in fact, he is. Of course, it wouldn’t be too hard for you, you’re his clean, for fucks sake. You come here to clean, you get good money for it, he shouldn’t feel guilty for using your services because, in some way, he actually provides you with a job and a cute thing like you shouldn’t go to other houses, with old perverts that can do unspeakable things with the adorable worker. 

Ah, yes, perverts like him. God, he is hopeless. 

— Alright. Do you want to note something, like if there is anything I shouldn’t touch? 

He would allow you to take your adorable, yellow glow-wearing hands to get into his personal savings and all of his bank accounts, if you’d want to. He curses under his breath, hating how professional you are – hard worker, perfect, simply a fantastic person who deserves more than working for him. You aren’t trying to shy away from the job and he almost resents you for it. 

You’d make a good soldier, he thinks – you’re able to hear the orders and oblige to them, you’re obedient and came even before the discussed time. You’d make such a perfect private for his unit, he observes. 

Ah, right, he was supposed to answer you. Shit. 

— No. Just don’t go to the second room on the left. 

— Alright. Anything else? 

He grumbles under his breath, trying to get into the right headspace to deal with someone like you. König knows it’s rude, to just ignore and leave you like this – but if he were to stay in he same room as you, he would do something horrible, disgusting, and completely dishonorable to you. So, he leaves – escapes – to his office. Father’s office, mostly, the only thing here that belongs to him are some documents and useless papers – and a laptop that he drags to every other room anyway. 

He doesn’t like this room, it reminds him of the worst episodes of his early childhood – yet, this is his only reserve. He doesn’t want to leave the house because the territory is secluded and if something were to happen to you, he would be the only one able to help. He also doesn’t want to leave his gun collection with you – he doesn’t want you to find it and freak out or hurt yourself. 

This is what he tells himself, at least. He wants to be there with you, in the same room preferably, but horrible for his anxiety, because he wants this illusion, phantasm of having a loving relationship. Of having a woman in his life, a lovely housewife who would cook for him, clean for him, and would be absolutely spoiled with gifts and attention. God knows he doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body – but he will carve one out of his ribs for you. 

And he only knew you for an hour tops. 

König feels like literally the worst man alive when he spread his legs and starts stroking his hard, glistening cock. He brushes over the swollen, red tip, not allowing himself to have any lube other than spit and oozing pre-cum – he tries not to cum embarrassingly quickly, thinking about your perfect gestures and smiling face. How perfect you look in your cleaning uniform – not like maids from the occasional porn he was watching, but still beautiful. Your body is perfect even with all of those ugly layers and grey fabric – and he can’t stop thinking about the sway of your hips or glimpses of your legs under your dress.

He thinks about you, bent over his couch, trying to clean the especially dirty spot on the furniture – how the material of your dress would be tight around your ass. The image makes him grunt quietly, stroking his barely wet dick even more – the pain from the dry sensation only makes the pleasure all the sweeter. He is hard, was hard for the past 10 minutes as you were introducing yourself and whatever your deal is. He is dirty, perverted, knowing only your name and your face – and he is still stroking himself, thinking about paying you extra just so you’d get on your pretty knees and suck him. Would you be sloppy, messy, get his cum all over your face so you’d have to wash it off? Would you be experienced, eager, trying to get as much seed as possible with that pretty tongue of yours? 

He is a lost cause because he hears the sounds of vacuum – you’re only a few rooms away from him, trying so hard to clean his house for him, to work through every bit of furniture and everything he acquired for the past twenty years or so – and he moans loudly, knowing that you don’t hear anything. You’re probably listening to music or some silly girl’s podcast about planets and gardens and maybe some university lectures. He’d pay for your courses, he would get you any book you want – having his salary and barely spending it made him softer in the saving habits. 

He can afford to splurge on a pretty girl who just needs a rich Austrian mercenary to sweep her off her feet. But, he is old – but, he is a monster who preys on someone helpless, using her pretty face to jerk himself off, and he doesn’t even deserve your number, although he has had it since accepting the service. 

His cock is big, angry red in his hand as he runs his finger over the bulging vein, teasing the sensitive flesh – always loud in bed, with grunts and moans of pleasure, he can barely contain himself now, only forcing his mouth shut when he doesn’t hear the sound of vacuum anymore. He strokes his dick fast, angry, and slams it into his fist, trying to make the pain last longer, so he won’t cum after a minute or two. He has the stamina to last longer – but it’s also the first time he was so horny since…he can’t even remember. 

König thinks about putting you in his bed – like a perfect housewife, you would hug his waist with your legs, would allow him to lick and grope at your tits, and won’t scream too much when he’d force his tongue inside of your precious pussy, taking every last drop of your pleasure. He wouldn’t want to be forceful, angry, you’re too precious for this and too weak for his strength – but he can imagine slamming into you in a matting press, cumming inside and not even pulling out, warming his cock in the heat of your body. 

Father would kill him for doing something so dirty in his office – but he is long dead, devil save his soul, and it’s König’s office now. Even when he barely uses it, even if he doesn’t really need this. It came in handy when he had to jerk off to the pretty cleaning girl who cleaned up after him – so, somehow, his father managed to improve his mood 15 years after he died. 

He cums with a low groan, whispering your name – he doesn’t understand how a pretty thing like you still works here and wasn’t taken by someone else already, but he would take what he can get. Never the one to get the first dibs, never being someone’s first choice – he feels terrible for thinking about you in such a low way, but his pleasure sticks to his fingers and, at this point, it’s too late to feel bad. 

Drying the tip of his dick with a tissue, he spends a good few minutes with spread legs, his soft cock laying on the chair, with cum still oozing out – such a waste, honestly, would be much better to stuff you full of his cock or even take your pretty ass, spread you slowly. Keep only the tip in, not pressuring you into anything more until you’d start moving yourself, like a good slut you will be. 

So perfect under him – the images and sounds of your voice are running through his mind, making him breathe heavily. If he was younger and had as much sex drive as before, he would already be hard – but he needs some time to relax, thinking about your pretty legs and adorable face. 

It takes him a few minutes of listening to your sweet voice to understand that you were not, in fact, a hallucination or a mystical fairy coming to make him come. You were standing outside of the office door, looking embarrassed and clearly hearing at least some of his horny mumblings – you avoid looking at him, and your fingers are trembling when you tug at the sides of your dress. Guilt immediately rushes to him again, he looks at you like a perfect treasure you are – and he is a horrible monster trying to hoard all of it to himself. 

— What is it, liebling? 

Petname goes smoothly from his tongue and he can only hope that you don’t know German – he is too embarrassed to talk to you, too anxious, his newfound shyness is a result of both your beauty and the post-nut clarity that already made him feel like a monster. He contemplates just giving you money and sending you off, paying double for the false call, and leaving you a 5-star review so you won’t get in trouble with your boss. 

You look so meek from his angle of view – he has to fight the urge to pinch your face, squeeze your cheeks, grab your waist in his firm hands, and just lift you in his arms, holding you to his bed. Maybe getting a nice set of cuffs to ensure you would never escape from him. 

— I finished with the living room and…well, I just wanted to ask if you want the decluttering work to be done today or tomorrow. 

He remembers how he basically paid you for a few days worth of work – and he smiles at exactly how perfect this decision was. Of course, you are a smart girl, a modest girl, you aren’t staying the night and would rather waste time on the road, much to his dismay, but at least he would see you for a few days already. 

He might not even let you go after. 

— Ach. Today, if it’s not too…

He stops himself again – of course, it’s not too much, you are a professional, not just a friend that comes to clean his place for a pack of beer and maybe some pizza. He doesn’t know how to talk to you, anxiety eats him whole, and he has to just avoid looking at you to avoid further embarrassment. 

— Alright. I will do it right away then. 

You smile awkwardly, your lips are twitching and he already knows that you could hear him moaning your name and sweet little praises while stroking his cock. You aren’t biting the hand that feeds you, not running away screaming at how perverted he is – poor girl, you probably need money more than you need personal safety if you’re fine with him heaving like this. If you were his, he would never allow you to be so careless. 

He moves behind you in the most dreaded room of the house. Mother’s bedroom, a room that she only used for sewing and only allowed him in when he was extra whiny after another failed fight with his bullies. All of her thighs are here – ever since she passed away, he just moved everything to one room and locked it, barely bothering to keep a key. He hates being here, almost as much as being in Father’s office — this room smells like death and old paper and you scrunch your nose in an adorable expression when you take a step inside. 

— I will divide everything into categories, alright? 

— Gut.

You look at him nervously, clearly scared that he is watching over you now. It might feel like a logical decision – after all, it was his mother’s vintage things, who knows what kind of jewelry she kept here, something that he won’t even notice gone until it’s too late. You and him both know, however, that this isn’t the reason he is looming over you. A perfect obedient thing, you deserve something better than his affection, but he still locks his gaze with yours, looking at your hands and going through various furniture pieces. 

You work like a fairy, not an ounce of laziness or exhaustion in your actions – even after you already spent a few hours cleaning his living room, you act like a Cinderella that got a bunch of magic mice up her rags. He licks his lips, looking at your perfect ass you as sit on your knees, starting with decluttering every little box there is. 

— Can I just put it back in boxes or…

You look the the contents – vintage makeup, some jewelry, head pieces that don’t look particularly expensive but were definitely well-loved. You wonder who they belong to – probably a wife, or, maybe, some of his relatives who lived here. He doesn’t seem like a married or divorced man – he does, however, look insanely lonely. 

It takes him a good few seconds to respond, too mesmerized by the little song you were humming a minute before. He imagines you in that old, chunky jewelry, some necklaces that cost more than your salary – and the thought makes him salivate. 

He smiles, leaning closer to you – hot breath on your face, you shift immediately, scared. He is so fast for someone so big, his movements are perfect and his eyes are cold – you feel the chill deep in your bones when he moves even closer, his lips almost brushing against yours. 

Suddenly, you are very aware of the fact that he locked the door to this tiny room when you both moved in. 

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

a day in the life where everyone tries to win reader over, maybe they heard reader mention something like how they can't stand an annoying relative asking them about a relationship over the holidays, or trying to get her the best gift?

ps i love your writing, i read it like my morning paper

A Day in Life: Christmas, Presents and Revelations

Synopsis: A day in your life full of good Christmas presents, propositions and secrets.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader

Tw: Implied stalking; Calling someone a manwhore; Karens in the family with traditional and conservative ideals and miserable lives; Mentions of past cheating; Mentions of past Bucky Barnes X reader; Is Hal Jordan slowly getting his redemption arc?; Slightly implied horny Reader; English is not my first language.

Word count: 2,2k

Requested? Yup.

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

— And it's just so annoying, like, sometimes I literally don't want to show up on these things, but I don't want to leave my mom there alone with my dad’s family. — You huffed. — My auntie’s too concerned about my romantic life, like her husband didn't get other three women pregnant at the same time she got pregnant and only married her because he would have to marry one of the four girls. — You shook your head while your co-worker laughed. — And you know what's worse? I told everyone I had a boyfriend, but Bucky cheated on me, and I didn't tell them that yet, so she's gonna think I lied and mock me like the middle-aged Regina George she is!

Unknown to you, certain people were listening, and silently, each one of them made a decision.

Your last day at work before Christmas, you were getting ready to go home, pack and take the road, when someone knocked on your office door. You looked up, seeing no other than Martian Manhunter at your door, holding a present.

— How can I help? — You hid your gritted teeth behind a polite tone.

— I came here to follow the Earth tradition of Christmas and give my loved one a present. — He stopped in front of you with a soft smile and extended the gift in your direction. You hesitated.

— You didn't have to… — You cautiously took the present from his hand.

— I also have a proposition for you. — And there it comes. — I couldn't help but overhear earlier that you were in need of a partner for a meeting with your family. — You wanted to facepalm. — I could be that person. — You sighed.

— I can't show up with an alien superhero. — You crossed your arms with a pointed look.

— As you know, I'm a shapeshifter. — You watched as he changed his appearance to look like multiple different kind of people, one moment he was a tall blonde man, the next, a black girl with braids, then an asian young guy, and so on, meaning he could look however you wanted him to. — And you can call me by whatever name you choose, even the name I adopted here on Earth… J’onn J’onnes. — He settled for his usual green alien appearance. — You widened your eyes at his confession, thinking “oh, shit”.

— Uhh…

— While you think about it, open my present, darling. — He gently pushed the present in your direction again and you, still wordless, obeyed, while mentally searching for a way out of this.

You cleared your throat and teared the paper. The feeling of destroying the wrapping paper of gifts always made you feel a little embarrassed, as if the beautiful wrapping itself was the present and you were being rude by tearing it apart. It was a silly thought.

As you finished, you found out he gave you a comic book from your favorite hero. It made you excited, but you couldn't show it much.

— Oh wow, thank you… — You coughed. — Can't even imagine how you knew it was my favorite… — You internally rolled your eyes. — Anyway, about your offer- — Another knock interrupted you, and you both looked at the door. Aquaman was there with another present in hand.

He looked suspiciously from you to the other hero and stepped forward, then focused on you.

— Whatever offer he gave you, I give you one better. Take a king to meet your family, darling. — He smirked and offered you his present. You ignored what he said, settled the comic on your desk, and opened his present. It was a necklace with charms related to the beach, like some shells, pears and fishes, all made of your favorite metal. You pursed your lips, not waiting to admit to yourself that it was pretty and you liked it more than you thought you would, just like the last gift.

— Thank you. And about your offer, I can't exactly do that. You can imagine why. — He shrugged.

— Well, you can simply take me as your completely human lighthouse keeper, Arthur. — He smirked and wrapped your shoulders with his left arm. You shuddered, thinking “God, no”. — We’ll even invite them to our beach house, darling. Right on the shore. I also have a boat. Let's impress them. — He grinned proudly, as if he was sure you couldn't deny him.

You shrugged his arm off and before anything came out of your mouth, you remembered about your auntie and her shittalking right now. She always wanted a beach house, but everyone knew your uncle prefered to spoil himself and his side-pieces than her or the kids, and yet, she felt superior to every member of the family who was single because at least she had a husband and she didn't need to work, including you.

Rubbing a beach house, a boat, and a blonde hunk himbo on her face could be nice… Even if you just offered to take only your immediate family there one day and then just pretend you broke up with him later, he and the league would still get the wrong idea.

— Knock knock, oh- What’s everyone doing here? — Flash was there and pursed his lips while looking at the three of you. You groaned internally.

— You can go, Flash, (Y/N) won't choose you. — Aquaman, or Arthur, weaved him off. Flash narrowed his eyes for a second and then turned to you, ignoring him and beaming at you, extending a gift in your direction.

— I bought you something! — You discharged the necklace behind you and took the new gift, it was a bracelet with a lightning symbol in your favorite metal. It was also pretty, you were getting tired of it.

— Thank you, Flash…

— Please, just call me Barry. — He grinned brightly. — Please ignore the stinking ugly dressed fishman and the alien still learning to act like a normal human. You can take the funny and smart forensic chemist to meet your family. — He reached up and took his mask off, you widened your eyes, at seeing his real face. Huh, you didn't think he was blonde.

You stuttered, too shocked.

— Oh God… — You thought knowing their name was worse than their faces, secret identities and all, but something about seeing a real face that was kept hidden all the time felt like a heavier burden. To make matters worse, Green Lantern showed up. — No.

— Just hear me out, please! — Everyone turned to him with annoyed expressions. — I changed, I swear! And I apologized like, a thousand times. — He cleared his throat. By your face, he knew it was the worst thing to say. — Anyway, here’s your gift. — He bit his lip while you took it from his hands and opened it with hostility. They were tickets for the next concert of one of your favorite artists, that made you feel a little bad for the way you treated him, but it didn't change what he did to you in the past.

— I… Thank you. — You were trembling with nerves at this point from all the surprises you were having.

— I heard you needed someone to bring home for the holidays…

— Uhuh.

— And your dad is a big fan of the army, right? — You blinked. It was true, but you never told them that, yet, you weren't surprised they knew that.

Where was he going with it…?

— Please, not you too.

But he took off his ring anyway, and after a moment, he was wearing civilian clothes, along with a military jacket and dogtags.

— Who better than a charming ex-air force member to present to your family? Test pilot now, I can take them flying. Actually, I can take you flying. — He winked. — Call me Hal Jordan, beautiful. — He winked and saluted you. — Also, I fought in the war.

— Dude. Just give up. They're not gonna pick you.

— I will never give up, I'm a green lantern, strong will is kind of my thing. — He looked at you again. — So, darling?

While you were staring blankly at him, someone cleared their throat.

— Be reasonable, you don't have to be humiliated today. — Wonder Woman catwalked into the room confidently. She was holding two bags from a clothes store in her hands. The amazon pushed Hal Jordan aside and stopped in front of you. She looked you up and down and smiled charmingly. — Take me with you, darling. This is for you. — She extended one of the bags to you. You took it and looked inside, then reached in and pulled it out. It was a beautiful outfit, completely on your style, and clearly of good quality. But when she pulled out what was inside the other bag, it took your attention and you looked curiously at the red wine satin dress she was holding up. — And this is what I will be wearing. — She smiled seductively. — Diana Prince, pleasure to meet you.

You couldn't help your jaw from dropping while imagining her wearing that. While some family members might not admire the sensual outfit as much, you definitely would. Secretly. Your ego would too.

Damn it, why couldn't she be more normal and less yandere?

You swallowed, looking away from her and the dress. It was finally too hard to say no, but not for the mature reasons.

At your silence, Diana’s eyebrows rose up and she tilted her head to the side, with a pleased small smile. The other men in the room groaned and started arguing loudly, but she was untouchable in front of you.

Unstoppable force, meet immovable object.

— I think I should just go home, it's getting late… — You rapidly shoved your gifts inside the bag, took your things and squeezed your way between them heroes, not even realizing how trapped you were previously, but just as you got to the door, you hit a brick wall, or Superman, as people usually call him.

You groaned and he looked at you sheepishly.

— I guess after all of that I can't offer you something much better, but I can try… — Superman took a deep breath and before you could blink, he flew away, changed clothes, and came back. One second, Superman was in front of you, the next, just a regular cute guy wearing glasses and a suit. You took a second to recognize him and understand what happened and what that meant.

Damn, who knew glasses were a good disguise.

— I'm Clark, Clark Kent. I grew up on a farm in Kansas and I work as a journalist at the Daily Planet. — He smiled shyly and gave you his gift. — I hope you like it…

You blinked and catatonically looked at the thing he gave you. Differently from the last gifts, it wasn't neatly wrapped and it had a weird shape, but by how it felt in your hands, you guessed what it was.

You expected the sight of a Superman plushie to greet you, but instead, it was a plushie of your favorite fictional superhero. The same hero from the Martian’s comic.

Well, it was cute. You would probably fall for him if you didn't know better. You held back an awed sound that wanted to spill from the back of your throat.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by all the Justice League groaning a collective and loud “GET OUT”, you looked up, confused and curious by what caused all this, surprised by seeing it was just Batman entering the room.

Huh, why did everyone react like that?

He stared at you, then at every single one of them, silently, almost disapproving, or disappointed, but then, he smirked when he looked at you again.

Batman was smirking? You flinched.

— This is for you. — He gave you a big box. It was surprisingly heavy. When you opened it, there was a very expensive and beautiful pair of shoes, something you only dreamed of having and was always on your Pinterest board. Only digital influencers and celebrities wearing it, making you jealous. But that wasn't all. There was also jewelry and a very expensive bottle of wine. You will definitely take it to the holidays to impress your family. Or maybe keep it to a very special occasion. — And there’s more from where it came from. — He reached for his cowl and your breath hitched. Never in your wildest dreams you thought this day would happen.

He took of the cowl, and in front of your was…

Bruce Wayne?!

While everyone deflated, knowing they lost, you just had to hold back your laugh, but a snort still escaped. That took everyone off for a second, including the always stoic hero in front of you, who was clearly bewildered when you couldn't hold back anymore and laughed to his face.

— You think I'm gonna show up to my family with the nacional manwhore? HA! Yeah, that's gonna impress them for the first five minutes, then I will be the dummy who’s gonna be traded for the next top model. — You shook your head, still laughing. Bruce frowned deeper. You slightly feared for your job after you bluntly called him a manwhore.

— I would never do that to you. My affairs are all to deceive the public and keep my job a secret.

— And that might be true, but my family doesn't know that! Or are you gonna tell this to everyone? Funny. Billionaires are so delusional and out of touch… — You shook your head and walked out.

Like, comment and reblog 🥰

[einsatzzz]

[OC] Ninomiya Kanako (Kana) - Character Profile

🍎The cold but resolute asocial who's obsessed with her Family! Ninomiya Kanako!🍎

You can go to this link to our Oniyanagi Wiki site for her full character page!

"Kurumi is my twin, so do treat her well. That's neither a request nor a suggestion."

Kana is one of the two 10th generation bosses of the Oniyanagi yakuza family (alongside Kurumi). She is a talented assassin who's fortunately currently under a temporary restriction, so you're totally safe as long as you don't get in her way.

Age: 15 Birthday: December 13 Zodiac Sign: ♐︎Sagittarius Height: 157cm Weight: 46.5kg Gender: ? Country of origin: Japan MBTI: ISFJ Favorite author: Osamu Dazai Favorite food: "Anything sweet will do", Kurumi's cooking

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PERSONALITY: As if she's in a perpetual game of poker, she keeps her cards close to her chest with an unreadable expression.

Kana has a stoic demeanor and her expressions are often devoid of any emotion (even in the face of life-threatening situations). When she does show it, it usually means bad things (not for her). She is also a natural liar and can be very manipulative.

She's an old soul who doesn't like wasting time on things that don't matter. She doesn't have any special interests and also doesn't derive any pleasure or regret from her talent, or so what she says. When in truth, she has a large amount of hidden bloodlust that she has trained to keep under control - for her Family's peace of mind.

One of the very few exceptions that stands out from this dull and empty existence is her love for her twin. Kurumi's safety is also your safety.

SPECIALTY: If it's for her Family, there is nothing she won't cut down.

Kana is a swordsman but she also has a special talent for assassination. She can somehow use any item into a murder weapon, no matter if it's a pencil, a soda can, a piece of twig or even a toilet paper. It's also easy for her to hide her presence because her footsteps has no sound (even when she's running in the rain). Out of habit, she sleeps with her eyes open and it creeps a lot of people out.

DAILY LIFE: Despite certain difficulties, she wants the people that she cherishes to live freely and be true to themselves.

Her Family members are quite the pieces of work - a very lonely, miserable and dishonest bunch looking for a place to belong in this fleeting world. And she is also the same as them. Caring for this Family (in her own way) is a responsibility she took on for herself. She promised, after all. So they should just do whatever their heart desires. Because she's not able to do so for herself anymore.

—Within reason, of course. If Yui were to start causing construction work level noise while working on his robot projects at ungodly hours, she won't hesitate to punch a hole through the wall and tell him to keep it down. If some asshole scum of the earth is trying to court Kurumi? Unacceptable. Fortunately, accidental deaths are a common occurrence.

RELATIONSHIPS: A new school doesn't change anything for her...supposedly.

Reborn: No comment.

Tsuna & Lambo: Don't get ahead of yourselves just because Kurumi is fond of you.

Gokudera: His sister's cooking isn't that bad. Skill issue.

Yamamoto: He's a good kid.

Hibari: This bastard's gonna have to graduate from middle school at some point, right?

Dr. Shamal: There are people in this world who deserve to die. But fellow weeds don't die so easily, don't they?

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Thank you for taking the time to read this! This character...is kindaaaa complicated, so I have a bit of a difficulty coming up with words for her profile. This character can pack so much spoilers lmao. Anyway, I did my best (lol).

Any questions about her or the story is very much appreciated! For credits, all Oniyanagi OCs are by me and @amiahoshi! While for the intro audio, Kana is voiced by erushaVA and I also got the background music here from MusMus! The audio art used above is inspired from En/kidu's April Fools art lmao:

"Kana outright doesn't care and doesn't think about gender or pronouns."

The next one will be Yui's, but that will be for late-July/early-August since I'll be too busy studying in the coming weeks. I think I'll start on the webcomic once I'm done with Yui's ref sheet.

[irigy]

—       blasting  cvnt  by  sophie hunter  down  main  street  we’ve  spotted  KIYAN VIRANI  sporting  their  way too many rings on their fingers.  the  four hundred and twenty-eight  year  old  DEMON  who’s  been  in  town  for  ten years  often  can  be  seen  starting fights in the comment section and feeding off their chaos, judging people’s fashion in the street, picking the marshmallow bits out of a lucky charms box while watching love is blind on netflix, giving out hurricane shots ,  or  working  as  a/n  OWNER  at  ENVY.  people  say  they  display  perceptive  and  selfish  traits,  but  we  rather  trust  their  vibes:  loudly chewing gum in the middle of a meeting, a suffocatingly humid summer day that never seems to end, the papercut that stings more and heals slower than you thought it would, the feeling of being watched .  also,  we’ve  heard  they  love  BEING YELLED AT !   aren’t  they  fascinating ?   

basic information.

name:  kiyan virani. date  of  birth: unknown. age:  428. birthplace:  tba. home:  portum. species:  demon. occupation: owner of envy nightclub (+ tiktok influencer lmao). gender:  agender. pronouns:  he/they. orientation:  pansexual panromantic. languages:  english, gujarati, german, french. accent:  british (kinda posh).

physical information.

faceclaim:  avan jogia. eyes:  green. hair:  brown. height:  five foot ten inches. build:  kinda skinny. scent:  tba. dominant  hand:  ambidextrous. allergies:  n/a. scars:  n/a. clothing  style:  pin board for ref.

personality.

label: the trickster. mbti:   estp. enneagram:   the enthusiast. element:   fire. star   sign:   leo. temperament:  sanguine. moral alignment:   chaotic neutral. deadly   sin:   envy. heavenly   virtue:   prudence. godly   parent(s):   hermes, loki. developmental disabilities: adhd.

history.

Anything before Hell is a blur. Hell itself is a blur. There are absolutely no memories in Kiyan’s mind about who they were as a human. With no known beginning to their path of descent, Kiyan had always considered their real birth into existence to have been in Hell. Kiyan certainly had made a name for themself in the early couple of centuries of their existence, causing mischief wherever they went, manipulating humans into committing cardinal sins and crimes, then buying them a one-way ticket straight Downstairs. Their work had become quite the myth over the centuries, though in the past couple of decades they’d gone quiet, preferring a more relaxed lifestyle for the time being. At least, that’s what they tell others. 

The calamitous encounter with a certain witch a few decades from the current timeline had turned their life upside down. Kiyan had their own individual emotional growth over the years, various instances of a desire to be human, to experience mundane feelings. There were also times they had despised humans and their feelings, wanting nothing but to go back home to be around other supernatural beings. It is needless to say that they had their fair share of emotions coursing around in the veins of whomever they’d possessed at the time. They might’ve even been in love before. But no other connection came even close to what Kiyan had with this witch. Their love was a colossal fervor of affection and addiction. And alas, it ended in the most human-like feeling Kiyan had ever felt. Anguish. Their relationship had turned sour and toxic, miserably slowly. Kiyan wished death on the other over and over again, and ended up regretting it just as many times.

Getting rid of such weak sentiments inside of them was a difficult ordeal. They’d even considered returning to Hell. Torturing souls was usually a tedious job, especially for a demon of Kiyan’s age, but in that moment in time, it was exactly what they needed. As a result of their earlier achievements and the reputation they garnered among other demons allowed them to pick and choose how long they spent time in Hell, or on Earth. 

And now, Kiyan is residing in Portum, in a humble condo close to the center of the town. However, with a name so infamous, it is difficult to keep a low profile. Not to mention the instinctual urge to keep causing mischief whenever they go. Although, the latter could be remedied quite easily, as after opening the nightclub Envy brings enough diversity of creatures to have a bit of fun with.

wanted connections:

hyper mega bummer boys like you - someone’s big wet eyes and loser boy personality has captivated him. good luck!! <3

666 with a princess streak - this person (or people… can be multiple) has the fattest crush on him and he knows and he makes them follow him around like a little puppy it’s so pathetic and kiyan finds it very amusing

did you hear me? PLAY THE FUCKING BEAT!!!! - kiyan throws this person out of the club every time he sees their face. why? cuz it's funny lmao he has no reason to kick them out but it’s like a lil game of hide and seek like he’s always on the lookout for this person at the club and when he sees them, baby he’s hunting them down and telling them to get the fuck out. except one time they ask him for a dance? or a drink? and he just… accepts? uwu 

i stay ready with a dark red mani-pedi - (tw: violence) something about beating ppl up bc only he can bully this person, he will gladly step and/or spit on people because the noises they make are very funny to him idk tba 

i’m being mentioned in therapy sessions - (tw: violence) the hyper-independent “i don’t need anyone” anxious attachment babe locked eyes with the nonchalant dismissive-avoidant. oof. bitter… very very bitter exes lmao this relationship ended with a whole city almost burnt down, louboutin heels pressed against a throat, they betrayed one another, over and over again and they still came back, it was on and off for years, exploding into arguments, I mean they probably didn’t even like each other. and now? now it’s kind of like this: -do you want to argue or do you want to kiss me? -i assure you i am capable of both.

and on the creatures scratches it doesn’t know how to get out - (tw: kiiinda nsfw?) uhhh fwb basically. he doesn’t do feelings (at least that’s what he tells himself), also kiyan is the king of brat city so be prepared for some bullshit, he doesn’t want to be tamed (though could be convinced if you play your cards right...), he wants to be enabled and spoiled rotten

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - March 19

 Tied and Twisted by 51stCenturyFox 

“JARVIS, I’m tangled up in cables and need assistance. Get Dummy.” He surveyed the narrow path between the racks. “No, scratch that plan. Not enough space to maneuver.” He looked up at his trapped wrists. “Or enough fine-motor control. I need opposable thumbs.”

“Shall I call 911, sir?” JARVIS inquired calmly. “Will a hatchet be required? Jaws of life?”

What a Wicked Way to Treat the Boy that Loves You by jellybeanforest

After both forget their four-year anniversary, Tony Stark is insecure about the state of his relationship to Steve Rogers. Adding insult to injury, Steve has been acting strangely all week, so when he takes his boyfriend to dinner, Tony just knows he’s planning to break up with him in a public space to prevent him from causing a scene. Well, if the asshole thinks that (1) Tony is prone to post-breakup dramatics, (2) witnesses are a full-proof way to prevent said dramatics, and (3) Tony isn’t going to beat him to the punch, then maybe Steve never really knew Tony that well to begin with.

Reaching Inside An Armored Heart by MayBiTheWay

Realistically, asking Tony Stark out on a date was a big deal, Steve knew he needed to do some convincing, but not in a million years he’d think Tony’s answer would be this certain, this final. But he was not about to give up on this, on Tony.

It's just that there have been more pressing things to deal with at first, like return of the Skull or MODOK...

Gained in Translation by Annie D (scaramouche)

Steve returns to New York and meets Tony for the first time since they’d parted ways after the Chitauri incident. It’s a little awkward at first, but they gain a new rhythm, which is mainly based on their ability to surprise each other and prove those first impressions inaccurate.

Set between Captain America: The Winter Soldier and Avengers: Age of Ultron.

Be Empty of the Miserable Things by royal_chandler

Someone needs to tell Steve Rogers that loving the person you're with while you can is the best sort of selfish.

Sing That Body Electric by royal_chandler

Tony comes back from a business trip to find Steve with a beard.

Go the *Bleep* to Sleep by royal_chandler

Tony is waning, a middle-aged father who’s up against it and judging his younger self for ever taking sleep for granted.

Under the October Sun by royal_chandler

 This is what Tony deserves for suffering an apparent lapse into insanity and giving credence to anything that freaking Scott Lang has to say.

Unplanned Courses by royal_chandler

When he and Tony began, Steve was told to be careful. Steve had never paid much mind though, too caught up in feeling alive. But eventually a spring that turns into summer cools into autumn and then freezes, and Steve’s never done well with the cold.

patchwork people by itsallAvengers

It was a pretty well-known fact that Tony Stark had control issues.

It was far less well-known why, though.

Muscles With a Side of Baby Blues by spAceArrow

If your date is nice to you but rude to the staff, then they are not a nice person.

and you said it was love by thangam

Steve wasn’t prepared for anything to really go off the rails at the gala. The Avengers were expected to go to parties like this every week, as a part of their contract with the American government. It was also not surprising that Tony would know some of the fancy rich people who came personally, considering he was a regular attendant of several other galas a week, and he ran in the same circle that most of the other attendees did. However, it was unusual for him to have a standoff with any one of the guests.

This gala was different though, because, for the first time, Tiberius Stone was on the guest list.

Shameless by vlbuehle

You just know there are like dozens of sex tapes of Tony circulating the internet. Steve finds one (while looking for something completely different) and is simultaneously mortified and unexpectedly turned on.

Tony catches him watching it, and is very amused (and not at all embarrassed, naturally). Sex follows.

Song and Dance by Arukou

Tony hasn't been feeling the schmoozing lately, especially not when Ty Stone blows in from the West Coast.

Your Heart on My Skin by AvengersNewB

Tattoo artist Steve refuses to give omega Tony a tattoo that might cause him a lifetime of embarrassment, despite Ty's insistence and ends up supporting Tony in putting his life back together.

Oh, and getting a chance to punch Ty? Always a bonus.

Arranged by NotEvenCloseToStraight

Royalty AU-- Howard arranges a match between Tony and Steve, but when Tony tries to run away with Tiberius instead, Steve goes after his betrothed and brings him home. Things are difficult between the couple at first, but an impulsive kiss leads to softer moments, and finally the arranged pair find happiness together.

catastrophic blues by meidui

It's 2011 and there’s a new vigilante amok in Brooklyn.

“He broke out of SHIELD custody,” Coulson says on a video call, calm and straight faced as he always is. “Good news is he didn’t take anything. Bad news is we can’t catch him.”

Tony tosses his welding goggles onto his workbench. “What I can’t catch is a fucking break.”

What Happens In Vegas by sabrecmc

“What the hell, Tony?” Rhodey demanded brusquely. Tony winced and drew the phone away from his ear. “You’ve got cops and Feds all over the hotel. I’m watching you perp walk out of the police station on repeat on CNN. They’re saying you tried to bribe Stern? Fox News has you selling weapons on the black market, and God that picture they’re using is the one from Bali in ’09. You look like shit. They wheeled Stern out and put him in an ambulance, by the way. Got some paparazzi swearing you decked the guy. Now they’ve got ‘copters following it like he’s OJ.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, Sourpatch, I’ve got it covered. Uh, though, I should probably tell you that, purely in the interests of national security and the greater good, I kind of had to fake marry that stripper-gram you sent. Thanks for that, by the way,” Tony added quickly.

[darklordazalin]

Azalin Reviews: Darklord Azalin

Domain: Darkon Domain Formation: 579 BC Power Level: 💀 💀 💀 💀 💀 💀 💀 💀 💀 💀 (10/5 Skulls) Sources: My infallible mind. Actual Sources: 1e module: House on Gryphon Hill; 2e modules: From the Shadows, Roots of Evil, Death Unchained, Death Ascendant, Death Triumphant 2e source material: Realms of Terror, Domains and Denizens, 3e source material: Secrets of the Dread Realms, Ravenloft Gazetteer Volume II, Ravenloft Novels: King of the Dead, Lord of Necropolis, I, Strahd: The War Against Azalin, Tower of Doom, Tales of Ravenloft (featured in The Crucidble of Dr. Rudolph van Richten) At first I had qualms about conducting this self review as it requires me to divulge certain information I would rather leave buried, then I realized I could simply modify the memory of anyone who reads this. This way, I can tell the truth and no one is the wiser. I’ve heard rumors of Domains in the Mist that are larger than Darkon, but none are as vastly populated or diverse. Darkon was born from magic and darkness, which has seeped into the very land itself. Magical phenomena are quite common throughout my land and magic, naturally, is a day to day occurrence for my people. On the surface, Darkon is peaceful. At least, for those that know their place. Though I may rarely make a public appearance, my rule is seen everywhere through the direction of my Kargat. As long as my rule holds, the land is steady. I am known to be fair with my judgments if not harsh. Many describe me as ruling as “an iron fist with a velvet glove”. I do love velvet… Enough about this velvet cage of mine, let us move on to my history. How exactly did one as perfect as I end up in this miserable land? I wasn’t always “Azalin” and was born Firan Darcalus Zal’honan in 231 CY in the land of Oerth in the earldom of Knurl to Earl Turalitan Zal’honan. I was the Earl’s middle child and largely overshadowed by both my elder brother (Ranald) and younger brother (Irik). Worst of all, my father hated everything to do with the arcane, something I excelled at at a very young age. So, ignored and belittled for excelling at the very thing my father hated was my life until I disowned my family at the age of 15. What led to this decision…well, I’m ashamed to say I never had a proper teacher in the arcane and grew a bit over confident in my abilities. I really did love my little brother, Irik. He was naive, but always a light of happiness. So naturally I wanted to show him my passion for magic and what better way to do so than bring him along for a demon summoning? Perhaps if my “teacher” Corsalus had any skill or had given me access to the books he said I wasn’t ready for (even though I had already surpassed him), we wouldn’t have botched the summoning and Irik wouldn’t have become possessed. I know that I did the right thing. I went directly to the wizard Quantarius and begged him for his help to save my dear brother. Of course, my father stopped Quantarius before he had the chance. If he had just put aside his biases for one moment and listened to me, Irik would have lived that night. Quantarius was banished and I was given the option of a “pardon” if I renounced magic and accepted the Divine. Ridiculous. At least I know where my power comes from, those that pray for theirs just accept that it comes from whatever God they kneel before, but that source could be anything. It’s not as though their gods ever lower themselves to speaking to a mere mortal. I chose exile and became an Apprentice to Quantarius. I studied under Quantarius for almost three decades before we parted ways. Having a aptitude for magic from a very young age, I learned quickly and even surpassed my Master in many ways. For one, I discovered  a way to harvest the lifeforce of the recently departed to heal as well as restore youth. Yes, you can thank me for such spells as “Life Transference” even if I was not as egocentrically as Mordenkainen to name it after myself. In 283 CY, I was asked to return home and take on the rulership of Knurl. Not surprisingly, my brother Randal’s rule had left the land in chaos since he preferred throwing lavish parties and ignoring his actual duties. With his death, the people of Knurl hoped that the famous wizard of Knurl (I’m speaking of myself, naturally) would save them. I did just that and with my vast knowledge of magic and strict rule I led Knurl into a time of prosperity. I ensured magic was brought back into the earldom and was given the proper respect it deserved. My people called me “Azal’Lan” or “Wizard King” and truly adored me. Eventually, realizing I would not be able to indefinitely extend my own life through magic, I married Olessa in hopes of producing an heir. We had a son and Olessa died in childbirth. A pity really…but it couldn’t be helped. I named the child Irik after my lost brother. I loved Irik very much, but his soft nature was not promising for the strict rule that Knurl needed. Try as I might, he resisted my teachings and eventually betrayed me. I was left with no choice but to execute him myself so my people would know that no one, not even my own son, was above the law. I regretted it though. If only I had done things differently. If only there was a way to start again. And that’s when the voices came to me. What I call my tormentors and now know to be the Dark Powers. They promised me immortality but that was not as appealing to me as their promise of granting me the ability to bring my son back to life. I followed their instructions and gathering the resources necessary, created a potion. Once drunk, I became what I am today, a lich. Not the immortality I imagined but that mattered little as long as I could bring Irik back. They had tricked me and though I could bring Irik back, it was not what I wanted. I could only bring him back as one of the undead, not the true life I had envisioned. Thankfully I was able to undo that transformation and bind his spirit to his corpse so I could cast the proper spell once I learned it. I ruled Knurl for 6 decades as a lich, always careful to disguise my true nature. I was betrayed by one I thought was loyal to me and was lured out of the protection of my home based on a rumor of the spell I sought to restore my son. While seeking out this spell, myself and my guardsmen were surrounded by an army a thousand strong. I could have easily taken hundreds of them out without a second thought, but a thousand required a bit more strategy than mere destructive spellwork. I fled into a thickening fog in the hopes of playing a bit of cat and mouse with my betrayers. Instead I found myself in Barovia. I spent almost 40 years in Barovia working with Strahd von Zarovich on discovering a way to escape the Mists we were now both trapped in. We spent more time bickering than working together, but I did make some headway…inadvertently created a few new Domains and we did escape to Mordent for some time…though as I said before, I did not find it a very memorable experience. I have vague recollection of there being two Strahds there and, let me assure you, one is far too many. After another botched experiment to escape the Mists, Strahd and I were investigating the ruins of an abandoned monastery on the banks of the Luna River. Or more I was investigating while the overgrown flea was sitting in his carriage after assuring me how pointless the effort was. I discovered a single spell scroll within and upon seeing it, Strahd left in a huff of bat wings as he often did. A moment later I heard sounds coming from within the Mists. The sounds of wagons and horse hooves. I rushed within, hoping that whoever was traveling them could escort me away from Barovia…That…wasn’t entirely what happened. Instead I was transferred to my own prison - Darkon. I was split into my mortal and lich half when I first entered Darkon with no memory of who or what I was. Darcalus was King of Darkon when I first arrive and I, Firan, believed he had killed my son and wanted revenge. I wasn’t exactly wrong. I will not get into the details of how, but eventually my two halves combined once more and left me as the King of Darkon. I am clearly the most powerful of the Darklords. Not only am I cursed to never restore my son to life, but I cannot learn new spells. Why? Why this difference? I am convinced they are afraid that I could find a way to destroy them if I was allowed this freedom. But because of this, I feel their presence far more than any of my fellow Darklords and have learned much about them. And I will have my revenge! Even without the ability to learn new magic, I am still an incredibly powerful spellcaster. And…well, I may have a single room in Castle Avernus in which I can learn and cast new magic from. Many consider my rule of Darkon as “strict yet fair” and only meddling fools such as van Richten have learned of my true nature. Most of my subjects believe me to be a powerful wizard who extends his life through magic, which is, technically, correct. Besides being a powerful lich, I can delve into the mind of any Darkonian and rewrite their memories as I see fit. I have infinite control over the undead in my Domain and can raise corpses no matter how far away I am from them. I caused the Requiem that forced many Domains out of the Mists and created Necropolis. I am a force that is not to be reckoned with. I am Darkon.

[sometimesraven]

Made For This

Fandom: Quantum Leap (2022) POV: Ian Wright

Summary: In hindsight, Ian's entire life had led up to working for Quantum Leap.

AO3 Link

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Coding was always Ian’s solace. Right back to Coding Club in high school, just them and a handful of other kids learning Python instead of spending too much money at the mall, or… whatever kids that age did when they were normal.

Ian didn’t know and didn’t care, because Ian wasn’t normal.

They were diagnosed with ADHD at seven years old. Trying to keep them in one place when there were books at the other end of the room was near-enough impossible and by the time they reached middle school they'd basically taught themself the whole curriculum ahead of time. Genius wasn't a term they liked to use, at least back then. They didn't want to be heralded as some kid prodigy, they just wanted to sit at their computer and figure out how to make it play Minecraft by itself.

Being queer didn't help with that. Attention usually meant trouble, and Ian preferred to stay far, far away from trouble as a kid. So far, in fact, that their first successful coding project involved creating an algorithm that would tell them the safest likely route to and from school every day.

That turned into... a bit of a compulsion. Sooner than later Ian found themself unable to even leave the house if they hadn't checked their algorithm. One morning there was a power cut and they had a full-on meltdown, screaming, crying, smashing things-.. it was ugly.

At first it was just a routine. Mom called it their "little quirks". They'd always been that way, needing a certain order to things; a rightness. Unfortunately the Autism they found out that was down to presented closer to how it did in AFABs (gender affirmed?), so that didn't get caught until they'd already been homeschooled for the rest of High School and were well into college.

Thing is, it didn't stay routine. It became kind of a compulsion. Everything in their life had to have an algorithm; every little possibility had to be accounted for because what if it wasn't? There was a point midway though college that they were consulting statistics and algorithms for basically everything, convinced some kind of disaster would happen if they didn't.

They were skinny, weak and greasy by the time they finished their degree, accepting their PhD with their hair and makeup only done because their friends had wrangled and all but made them accept their help. Then Rachel all but made them go to therapy.

Things had calmed down, since then. Ian had coping strategies that didn't take up all their time, they were able to do things on a whim again, go shopping, go on dates, even get a job. A miserable, boring desk job as a data analyst where they didn't dare tell anyone their real pronouns, but a job was a job, right?

It was there that Magic had found them.

"Dr Wright, correct?"

"Who's asking?" they quipped, spinning on their chair to flash him a smile. This guy didn't belong here -- they could tell that immediately and not just from his visitor's pass. He held himself with a specific kind of professionalism and clean-cut carefulness that people in IT just-.. didn't have.

"Herbert Williams-- but please, call me Magic." His grin was polite, welcoming... Ian knew that grin. They were about to be poached. "I'm putting together a team of talented individuals and I want you to sign up."

"Right to the point, okay, uh-.." Ian blinked at the man's bluntness. "What-.. wahat's the job?"

"You'll be working as head programmer on a government project. The rest is classified."

"That-.. okay." If they couldn't see his credentials right there on his pass, they'd think this was suspicious as all hell. It was suspicious as all hell. They looked around their office, chewing thoughtfully at their lip. God, what they wouldn't give for another algorithm right now, but-.. what did they really have to lose? "Why me?"

Magic raised a brow, "Ian -- can I call you Ian? You graduated with honors in a University course you barely studied for. Before you were fourteen years old you could read and write fluently in a programming language I'd never heard of."

"Python is actually one of the most commonly used--"

"Young man, you have about half a dozen algorithms running right now to predict areas of your life you aren't even living yet, am I right?"

"...How did you-.." Government. Right.

"How would you like to put that talent into something that could change the world?"

For the first time in their life, Ian didn't think twice. In hindsight, maybe this was why they survived their childhood; the reason they could keep going for so long. Their entire life had led up to this.

"Uh-.. Magic? Just one thing," they tried, breathing away the anxiety beating in their chest.

"Anything you want."

"It's-.. young person. My-.. my pronouns are they/them."

Magic smiled and nodded, "Welcome aboard, Dr. Wright."

[3001spacedisco]

power & control, x0

hello. this is the first of a series of posts exploring patterns of power and control in domestic situations. this is an open discussion, so if you read this post, i want to hear your thoughts. i decided to discuss it at a lower level than in the workplace, or governments etc. because i think it's important to realise that though we can talk about the patriarchy as the big bad thing that's a parasite throughout society, men need to realise how much it affects everyday life, not just my paycheck or sentencing of crimes. prefacing this by saying these are my personal experiences, so may not be generalisable to everyone.

trigger warning, this series of posts will be discussing eating disorders, self-harm, suicidal ideation and SA as well as anecdotes. please be wary about this post and do not read if you are triggered by discussions of this subject. i wish you light and love through your journey of recovery and healing.

i want to start by talking about the control men have in domestic environments and how the effect of it has led to a cascade of events that have altered my life path. man number one, F, my biggest critic. my body was belittled and made fun of, and i would constantly be told to go on a diet. i felt miserable. i was conditioned into thinking my body had to be a certain way for people to respect me as if i it was my only redeemable trait. men perpetuate the notion that a woman's body is her only asset, even if she is family. F manipulated my child-self into believing i was not worthy of being perceived as an equal. 

at such a young age, why did i believe that my body had to look a certain way for people to listen to what i had to say? no praise for my smarts but constantly reminded that my body wasn't good enough had sparked so much internal hatred. i wouldn't eat for days. i spent months of my life delirious and lost. i have a massive gap in my memory, yet when i listen to certain songs i feel as though i can still smell my stomach acid on my index and middle finger. 

knowing i would always be smaller than a man, i realised that i was not in control. i would value the male opinion more than my own. i would search for male validation in all of my actions, believing that if i wasn't seen as desirable, what was the point of living? these negative spirits took over my teenage body. i would put myself in risky positions online, hoping to appeal to men twice my age just because i wanted to impress them. i wanted to know that i was someone's dream. i wanted to be something.

a man had control over the way i saw myself, a man i was never particularly close with, a man that i didn't have any emotional connections to. men dare to spill their opinions without worry of consequences. why did i sit quietly? why is it that after every critique i would go to my room to cry or cut myself or binge and purge but i wouldn't just tell him to fuck off? why was i okay with being quiet? why did i let him walk all over me? 

my life had been altered in such a way that still affects me negatively today. i never opened up about how he had wronged me, i just let it fizzle away over time. patience is a trait interweaved into women's minds. F still bothers me, acting as the head of the house demanding my full attention. i still submit to it. i am still patient with him. an impatient and outburstful man is a powerful one, that is everything that F is. he is larger than life, vital, the light of so many people's lives, yet still, he feels the need to size me down to a spec of dust. i remember in my childhood home, at an age no older than 6, saying aloud "i am the smallest person here, even smaller than a mouse". it is true, i am the youngest out of 3, however, i knew there was something different about me. for some reason, i was lesser than everyone around me. i was unimportant, i am the essence of nothingness. 

the funny thing is, i sit here writing badly about F, as if i have always felt this way. but i haven't. F was my idol, i would try to impress him (up until i really saw everything he is). it's as if i laid on the ground for him to stroll over and i would be excited that he made contact with me. i haven't got a way to solve this issue, though it is as simple as men needing to decrease themselves. no one owes them anything. they are raised entitled, believing the world must serve them and listen to them. i guess this is a way to connect the dots in my life, not necessarily me trying to devise a plan to uproot the patriarchy.

[kylekozmikdeluxo]

Yeah... I'm gonna talk about FAMILY GUY... Long post, incoming!

Actually, I'm seeing some talk about FAMILY GUY, specifically early FAMILY GUY, elsewhere. As of late. Because the TED Peacock series, based on a now 12-year-old movie, is out. And apparently it's pretty good? Reminiscent of the early seasons of FAMILY GUY, which people who actually like the show consider to be the series' best seasons? I couldn't tell you.

Coincidentally, I've re-watched most of Seasons 1-3 now that my Disney+ plan includes Hulu. The seasons produced and aired *before* FAMILY GUY was here to stay. FOX had cancelled the show twice in the early 2000s, and when it came back for the second time, it never left. It's now one of those long-running cartoons, ubiquitous with the word "cartoon" you could say, a new season almost every year.

I'm gonna be a total hipster and say that I was onboard the FAMILY GUY train as early as mid-2003 ish.

I was in fifth grade, and was at the time starting to stay up later than usual to watch a little thing called [adult swim]...

FAMILY GUY had just started airing on [adult swim], almost a year after its then-final episode - 'Family Guy Viewer Mail #1' - had aired on FOX. A classmate of mine had told me about it, and little by little, I was watching FAMILY GUY regularly. Even on school nights, low volume, haha. I didn't want to get in trouble. Life in the early 2000s was different, to any smartphone-era babies reading.

I didn't know anybody else in school at the time, sans a few classmates, who watched the show. It was like we five or so kids were the only ones who knew of its existence in my town (along w/ the original [as] shows, like AQUA TEEN and SEALAB 2021), which is kind of wild to think. I think by mid-2004, I'd seen every episode of the show to date, including the one that FOX was too cold-footed to air (for understandable reasons, especially in the early 2000s. The episode in question is probably tame compared to what the show would later "get away with"). And it was on almost every night, so I only had to wait 24 hours to see a FAMILY GUY episode I may have never seen... So catch-up was pretty easy!

I think part of the appeal for me - at age 10/11 - was definitely "haha this is a naughty show and I probably shouldn't be watching it" (though weirdly, my mother and stepdad let me watch a SOUTH PARK episode or two, I don't remember that show being off-limits) aspect. Another reason is kind of weirder, and I came to this realization rather recently-ish. Around 4th/5th grade, some things bothered young me. Growing up autistic wasn't always easy, and my way of processing the way world can be and how unfair life can be sometimes kinda... Made me act strange, in ways? I definitely had this "old soul" kinda bullshit going on at certain points in my kid life, when I should've been loose and funny and laughing at fart jokes. And I was at times, don't get me wrong. It's not like I was miserable or anything, or bearing the weight of the world on my shoulders, but some days I'd feel... Strange. And I was weirdly anti-some things that the typical kid finds funny or amusing. I don't know if I can fully articulate it now on a tumblr post, but the long story-short is... [adult swim] was one of the things that helped loosen me up a bit.

Going into middle school at age 10-going-on-11 (I started school early?) was not easy, and that accelerated a lot of things, a lot of feelings, a lot of complications in my brain... And my embrace of [adult swim] started to converge with that, and by 7th grade, I was really, really loose. I swore more, I wrote edgy stuff, I upped like most of my original stories I was writing to PG-13/R-level, I was a silly little edgelord sometimes. But at the same time, unleashing a lot of *that* after a few years of this weird pseudo-old soul nonsense, bad habits, and general confusion was a very fun and freeing feeling!

This is why, despite a lot of shit that should've made that time in my life a nightmare, late 2004-early 2005 was a really exciting time in my life. I think just letting the proverbial hair down was a big reason why, alongside all of my hyperfixations that I always turned to when things really sucked. Things such as Pixar movies and BIONICLE and Cartoon Network stuff and various video games, etc. etc. etc. And smack-dab in the middle of all this was my nightly [adult swim] viewings before I had to get up at 6:30am to wait for the bus on cold-ass mornings. FUTURAMA, FAMILY GUY, AQUA TEEN HUNGER FORCE, THE BRAK SHOW, on and on... It was the stuff I could turn to.

For Christmas in 2004, I was given a newly-released FAMILY GUY DVD called "The Freakin' Sweet Collection"... I probably wore that poor disc out. Creator Seth MacFarlane's 5 favorite episodes, ones that I still find to be bangers to this day, plus some bonus features. FAMILY GUY was a prime special interest of mine at the time, and eventually I went to a music store that went out of business many years ago and picked up the DVD sets compiling Seasons 1, 2 & 3... And subsequently wore all of those out throughout 2005. They're but gone, now... Though some stores sell a whole box set with like, what, the first 10 seasons of the show for a fair price? I may or may not buy that if the discs aren't updated from the original 2000s versions. Anyways, FAMILY GUY, yeah... I just really, really liked it back then.

Really, I was the perfect age for it at the time. FAMILY GUY has always been contested, regularly seen as one of the nadirs of animated trash. You can definitely make a case for that. As much as I dig early FAMILY GUY, some of its humor really has not aged well, and is indeed offensive in many ways. For me, I feel those pre-2nd cancellation seasons have a charm to them to shines through the more egregious stuff. A charm that noticeably fades away from Season 4-onwards. You see, being from Connecticut, where MacFarlane was born... FAMILY GUY is *very* New England to me. After all, it is set in a fictional Rhode Island town, the state the neighbors me.

The show started airing in 1999, and while I wasn't watching it back then (let alone had even heard of it), I feel a lot of the character interactions, dialogue, and setting really do capture the feeling of being there. In a New England state, in the late 1990s and early 2000s. Little nuances and such, the way Peter and Lois joke about things in particular. Such as this scene from Season 2's 'E Peterbus Unum':

I don't know how to put it in words, but it's very New England to me. My family and I interacted like this quite frequently. Plus, you have Peter's voice being inspired by a security guard that Seth overheard when attending the Rhode Island School of Design, a very New England accent. Lois, too, to some extent. I hear a middle-aged Connecticut mom or aunt in Alex Borstein's delivery, whom she based on a relative of hers. Maybe that's why I initially connected to this show more so than THE SIMPSONS back in the day (and at that time, THE SIMPSONS was on its not-so-beloved seasons), I was too inept to grasp THE SIMPSONS' wit. It hit just right, I think, back then.

Now, upon learning that the show had been cancelled and that it was actually coming back... Within a few months... You bet I was excited? I remember the Sunday the fourth season premiere aired, my family and I gathered around to watch it, and I just remember all of us laughing like hyenas throughout. The episode had so much wackiness and a bunch of cameos as well. We also watched the AMERICAN DAD! episode that dropped right after, but I mostly remember when I first saw 'North by North Quahog'. What a night that was, lol. And you just, went home... Didn't tweet about it. I didn't have any message board accounts at the time, either, so... A couple of classmates to talk to about it, that was it. A lot of my classmates apparently still hadn't seen the show by this time. I mostly remember being ahead of the game when it came to this show, liking it before it was cool, you could say. Once others in my school started referencing it, it was like "I had you beat by almost 2 years." I also remember getting a T-shirt depicting the Griffins beating each other up, as seen in the episode 'Lethal Weapons'. And I remember some of the other kids thinking that was so cool, and one teacher - who probably couldn't stand me, to begin with - calling me to the front of the class to see exactly *what* was on that shirt. Surprisingly, I did *not* get in trouble...

(Not my photo, this is from an eBay listing... But it was THIS exact shirt. Only thing was missing was the horse's ass portrait!)

Later in the year, a DVD called 'Stewie Griffin: The Untold Story' was released, which I instantly put on my birthday list. It was kinda billed as "The FAMILY GUY Movie" when it was coming out, and of course my 13-year-old arse fell for it... And wore that DVD out, too... And then it aired as three separate episodes - albeit with missing footage because this was a DVD release and not a primetime TV airing - the following spring. Still, I have fond memories of getting that DVD and many others. The early DVD era was just so fun back then, what with interactive menus and much more care put into bonus features. And with less distractions back then, I feel you felt more immersed in the movies and content on the discs... Just sitting in your bedroom, you hadn't owned a laptop yet, smartphones didn't exist... Just, entranced in whatever it was you had on. It gets even more bittersweet nowadays, as stores and companies are trying to phase out physical media. How obtuse... But that's another rant for another day...

I would continue to watch FAMILY GUY regularly, and then slid off by around 2008-09ish. The show was beginning to change for the worst, I felt, and I definitely felt that original spark from the early seasons was kind of gone. The simplicity, the New England vibe, the characters feeling a lot more real and not just springboards for whatever dumb stuff they were coming up with. Seth's involvement was apparently minimal by this point in time, as he already had AMERICAN DAD!, THE CLEVELAND SHOW, the first TED movie, and other stuff in the works or bubbling up at the time. By 2011-12ish, I was getting rather actively pissed off at the show, and only checked back in when that "Brian dies" publicity stunt had happened. Otherwise, I've seen very few episodes of the show afterwards, and most of them didn't impress me... Outside of, surprisingly, a few selections from the Disney batch. Quite something! If you time-traveled to 2004 and told me that Disney was going to own this cartoon that I was watching on [adult swim] late at night without my folks knowing, I would've told you to get out of town!

But I hold a special place for those first three seasons, and watching the DVD sets of them back in early 2005, as an unhinged middle schooler. I won't posit that early FAMILY GUY is some kind of underrated gem in the history of television animation. It really is, in most iterations, perhaps the personification of that old Chuck Jones quote about "illustrated radio". Television animation that you don't watch for the animation or visuals, but solely for the writing. It pretty much is that, even if the designs of the Griffins are instantly recognizable and iconic. And it arguably had a bad influence, not the fault of the show or its creators, but of the way things go.

I came to the conclusion that Season 2 is my favorite of the original three. For me it was the most focused, the characters were at their best, banger jokes a minute and clever use of pop cultural references. I can even sense some of Seth's Cartoon Network roots in a lot of it, which is no surprise given that this show evolved out of a project he developed for CN. Season 1 is only seven episodes long and they were figuring things out, Season 3 has highs that equal that of Season 2's best moments, but I feel that parts of it kinda plant the seeds for what the show would eventually become. It noticeably gets denser, a little meaner, characters are more out-of-character, it tries to be even more offensive than before and sometimes really not sticking the landing. And yet, that's mashed up against a legit emotional episode like 'Brian Wallows and Peter's Swallows'.

In fact, those last four or so half-hours... Especially with the redone end credits music that re-imagines the theme song as a big band production, there was a weird sort-of... I dunno, finality to it? And that's not counting the S2 leftover that FOX wasn't keen on airing... I mean the original ending of S3, 'Family Guy Viewer Mail #1'... It was if they knew that Season 3 was going to be the end? You had the aforementioned Wallows/Swallows, then 'Stuck Together, Torn Apart', then another "Road To" episode with 'Road To Europe', and then 'Viewer Mail #1'. Like four really well-done character-focused episodes with some heartfelt moments, even... And then as a coda, three fun skits based on wacky ideas... Like, had the show ended there in early 2002 with the recalled Weinstein episode popping up somewhere else in the future... That would've been a fine way to go out, honestly. Even as a preteen back then, I felt just that watching these episodes... So it was a big surprise to me when I found out that Season 4 was a go. And S4 would use that same 2nd rendition of the end credits theme, so that was even more unusual for me.

Yeah, FAMILY GUY... It's a part of my weird-ass life. And there's probably whole holes of other stuff related to this show and other things that I could waffle on about regarding my preteen years, but... I'll just cap it off here, lol.

[burtonbabygirlguster]

this is also NOT a jancy post, just a jonathan post that talks about how jonathan is in the relationship

Jonathan Byers' antis have always made me pissed. because they pull the most absurd shit out of their asses, and twist it, and always make him out to be the bad guy, and when they can’t do that, they just call him ugly and say they needed to scream because they saw him, or that his face ‘traumatized’ them. but now they just make me feel..unsafe? unsafe isn’t the right word, it’s like a..lesser version. i know i’m safe, but it does however reinforce one of my biggest (mental, not physical like body) insecurities. it makes me feel that sort of sad-upset, and it adds on to a certain self issue i have.

the hate on him for season four, is what i’m talking about.

him ghosting nancy, not telling her about his collage plans, those are the big things they hate on, and they’re things people do, things i do, because of self issues and being a people pleaser. and even being high.

and i hate every single person that complains about jonathan and those surrounding topics.

because guess fucking what.

to anyone that complains, “OhhHhHhH, but he LIED to nancy about college and ditched her🥺🥺” or “he had the pErFeCt opportunity to tell her when they were fixing the cabin, bleughh🥺🥺such a bad boyfriend!!” or “oHHHHHh all he did was be high, fucking bitch”

i want all of those people to remember that he ditched his dream since he was six for her. and then he couldn’t do that- because of money issues, and his family. throughout the seasons, we know Jonathan is Will’s father at this point. Jonathan had become an entire parent to Will and like a parent in general since he was probably in middle school. do i need to remind everyone that, at the ripe age of 16, he was working shifts to pay rent? since an early teenager, he has been required to be there, as a brother, son, and father. and after all the upsidedown shit? especially with Will? the government with El? yeah, he’s going to be afraid of leaving. he won’t want to, because of his early life experiences, because he is so used to being a parent, and protecting and putting everyone else before himself, and we all know the last guy to leave Jonathan’s life. it’s perfectly fucking reasonable to be scared of what would happen if you left. and with being high- shut up. he has never had even one person to comfort him. even in season one, Joyce, his mother, admits that she barely checks in on him, and she feels bad. he has no outlet, and everyone shits on him when he rightfully explodes, and then you all shit on him when he finds an outlet and uses it.

he literally talks about his fear of telling Nancy that he can’t leave his family to be with her. he says that they’re “Going to end up like his parents and his kids hate him.”

so, he has this crushing guilt because he can’t please everyone, and now he feels guilty.

and he avoids her because, oh shit, i can’t do what she wants, and i really do not want to talk about it because i’m afraid.

and that’s the issue i have.

i can not, for the life of me, say ‘no.’ if i can’t please everyone, i don’t feel good. i have been in, so far, three (technically four, one person had two) romantic relationships, and i can’t even legally drive yet.

do you know how many hours adults have vented to me, because i can’t say no, or tell them that, hey, i’m a kid. i do not need your life story, Uncle Kyle, i do not want to here this, especially considering ive known you for two years tops, and barley see you, because your not actually my uncle, your just my moms boyfriends brother, and i don't like you.

but i'm a people pleaser that can't say no, and would do anything for others, like jonathan.

back onto the direct topic- the issue i have with myself that Jonathan has, and the lack of understanding or empathy for him

Because i'm a huge people pleaser- but i'm also a guilty wreck, that gets that miserable anxiety pit gut feeling whenever someone has an opinion opposite of my own. Because- well, i can't tell them my opinion, it could all go south if we have an argument!! they might not like me- or maybe they'll use it against me, twist my words? what if they hate people that have that opinion? endless what ifs and the horrible anxiety feeling. well, one way to avoid all this is to never talk about it! if i don't talk about it, they can't get mad at me, and we’ll always be happy! Yep!

and furthermore, if i can’t please someone- i feel so guilty that i can’t even talk to them.

example- one of my friends asked me to watch a few videos, all about an hour or more. i had zero interest in what the videos were about, so, between not wanting to, and the fact that they were all an hour minimum, i didn’t watch them all that quickly. and i couldn’t stand to talk with the person- so i didn't chat with them for a few days, but still couldn't bring myself to actually watch the videos. and that's only a few examples- i have a history of this, where i can’t bring myself to please someone because i don’t enjoy it, so i wind up with a huge guilt and anxiety pit and ignore them. but each day i ignore them, it gets worse, because now, they’re going to be mad at me for not doing what they wanted, but also not talking.

and i hate this. i hate it more than anything that i’m essentially incapable of saying no,and i have this urge to please people, but then when i can’t, i get this horrible feeling. i hate it so damn much.

and the fact that that's what Jonathan is dealing with, makes me feel…glad..? glads not the right word, but it makes me feel… uuh...represented? not the right word either, but the fact that i can look at a character and relate to them, and that i'm not totally hopeless- that makes me happy.

but then Jonathan Antis came storming in here, and they make me feel like an endless pit of anxiety again. and i know my small things aren’t as big as college, but the same still applies.

and so, as someone who has a similar ‘mindset,’ if you wanna call it that, as Jonathan, all jonathan antis can fuck off.

do you know how much anxiety it feels like to have to tell someone that you can't do what they want? that you have bigger things, that it's just not for you, and how terrified you are of them being mad, so that's why you haven't talked, and your sorry, and so damn scared of how they'll think of you if you do tell them, so you can’t just tell them, especially not randomly, and you keep digging this anxiety pit, but nobody is there to pull you out of it?

because if you did know what that like, you wouldnt shit on him for this.

or, to put it short, @skylergisondo’s post;

[havin-a-wee]

If Only She Knew

pairing: dad!harry x cheerleader!reader

word count: 4.2k

warnings: smut (fingering + unprotected sex), cheerleading position implies readers weight, 20 year age gap

hi! ive been having some really bad writers block but i wrote this and even though its def not my best work i like it enough to post it :) also, i totally didn't mean to imply the readers weight, i only realized afterwards, so im really sorry about that. also the age gap is kinda big, so if ur uncomfy with that you shouldn't read this <3

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY

“Geez watch where you’re going!”

You don’t even look up at the girl, recognizing her nasally voice easily from how annoying it is. You were nose deep in a book while walking down the school hallway, and of course your worst enemy had to be walking down the same hallway, at the same time, in the opposite direction. You are both at fault for the collision, considering Ella had her eyes locked on her instagram feed. But knowing the girl, there is no way in hell that she will take any responsibility, even though you are the one who has coffee dripping down the front of your white blouse.

Since middle school, Ella Styles has always hated you. You have never known why, but she seems to have a vendetta against you, and tries her best to make your life miserable. You never let her, always refraining from giving her the explosive reaction that she was looking for. And that makes her hate you even more.

High school is over in 2 months, and although you are going to miss the freedom of being a child, you most definitely won’t miss the people from the tiny town you’ve lived in since you were young. You’ve always been the type of person to have a small friend group, only 4 people in your circle. But that’s how you like it, because crippling social anxiety makes it difficult for you to meet new people.

“I- sorry.” You still don’t look at her, instead peeling the soaking wet top off of your stomach.

“You better be sorry.” She flips her blonde hair, ensuring that the fluffy locks hit you right in the face. You are lucky this time seeing as she didn’t take it further, because sometimes she would purposely embarrass you after small incidents such as this one.

Tears well at your waterline and you run into the nearest bathroom, pushing open the blue door and locking yourself in a stall.

After all these years of torment, Ella rarely was able to get to you. But sometimes, she does something that pushes you off the edge, leaving you with red, tear-stained cheeks. The final straw this time was her ruining your brand new shirt, the one you were anxiously waiting to debut at school.

But now there was coffee dripping down your chest and staining the bright white fabric. Your only saving grace is the cheerleading uniform in your backpack. In fact, you were walking to the locker room to change for practice, and then for the game at 6 tonight.

You had been excited for the game, knowing that Friday night games always led to parties and fun afterwards. You rarely go to parties of course, but the buzzing energy never fails to rub off on you. But now that stupid Ella had to go and mess up your day, you’re dreading seeing her smug face while she asserts her dominance as cheer captain.

You untie your top and rip it off in a haste, frustrated tears running down your face periodically. You could’ve put a jacket on and gone to the locker room, but Ella would be going there soon, and the last thing you want to do is run into her with teary eyes. She can’t know that you let her get to you.

You brush your hands down your uniform, pulling down the skimpy costume and stuffing your old clothes in your backpack. Once out of the stall, you pull your hair up into a high ponytail, reapply your lip gloss and walk back into the hallway, having already done your makeup that morning. You’re happy that it’s a home game today, because the home game uniforms are two pieces and the skirts are smaller than the ones on the away game uniforms. There is a certain someone you are looking to impress, and the way your tits spill out from the top of the outfit will most certainly help you in your mission.

It’s not like you need to impress him, because he’s shown time and time again that he finds you sexy no matter what you wear. And when he doesn’t tell you, he shows you, by pressing his hard on up against your ass after you just woke up, despite your messy hair and bare face.

However, he also loves when you tease him. And that’s exactly what you’re planning to do.

You sling your heavy backpack over one shoulder and trudge down the hallway, the old fluorescent lights practically blinding you on your journey. The locker room is dingy, smelling of cheap soap and Victoria’s Secret perfume. At least it doesn’t smell like the boys locker room, which smells like sweat and more sweat.

It's already bustling with people, your teammates scrambling to get ready in time as to not get yelled at by the coach.

“Y/N!” The familiar shout of your best friend Rose is like a breath of fresh air, and you bound over to her. She’s standing in front of your lockers, the two of you obviously picking ones next to each other. “Wait, why are you already changed?”

“The bitch spilled her coffee all over me,” you grumbled, your eyes shifting over to where Ella and her little goons are giggling.

“I keep telling you, anytime you want me to beat her up I will gladly do it.”

“Not that I doubt your abilities Rose, because I know you would have her on the ground in a heartbeat, but I can’t let you do that. She can’t know that she upsets me.” You lower your voice for the second sentence, irrationally fearing that she can hear you over the loud chatter echoing through the room.

“I still think you should let me beat her up, but you do you I guess.” Rose shrugged her shoulders and turned back to her locker, bursting out into laughter with you after a beat of silence.

The rest of the getting ready process goes smoothly, Rose distracting you from the girl side-eyeing you in the corner. Soon enough, the whole squad was in formation outside, and you have your hands on the shoulders of Rose and another girl named Bethany. You are a flyer, meaning that you’re the one who the bases support while you pose and flip in the air. Its a hard job, but you are one of only three girls on the team who is advanced enough at flying to be safe doing it in routines. One of the other three girls is Ella.

Ella is the flyer for the middle group, seeing as she is the captain. You are on the right and the other group is on the left. Luckily, Rose is a base in your group, so you feel a lot better putting your safety in the hands of someone you already trust with your life.

“ELLA! YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG!” Coach Habbiths voice is piercing, her angry shrieks bouncing off your ear drums. Ella audibly huffs, displaying her frustration with the critiques she has been receiving since we learned the routine weeks ago. That’s one of the biggest problems with Ella, she believes that she's always right.

Every single practice she has done a needle instead of a scale at the end of the routine. It's aggravating for everyone, and that frustration is amplified everytime she makes the same mistake over and over. “Alright, everyone down. group 1 and group 3 take five, Ella and group 2 stay on the field.

The team obliged to her instructions, and you are brought down from the air.

“Okay Ella, I want you to watch how Y/N does the last move, because she’s actually doing it correctly.” Coach is standing in front of you now, and she emphasized the word ‘correctly’. This is much to Ella’s dismay, and much to your excitement.

Nothing brings you more joy than seeing Ella’s face when you one up her, and this time is no exception.

Aside from a few eye rolls and nasty looks, Ella corrects the move without much fuss. By now there's 15 minutes until the game, and the players have been warming up on the field for about half an hour.

“Did you see her face!” Rose tugs on your arm while you walk back to the locker room, water bottles in hand.

“I know! I should’ve taken a picture!”

“We can only hope that it knocked her ego down a peg.”

“I doubt it” Rose nodded in agreement and you continued your chatter, talking about the random things that best friends talk about.

“It’s go time ladies!” You jumped in surprise when Coach Habbiths yelling booms through the locker room, the hefty amount of metal in the room enhancing the echo.

In a blur, your entire team rushed out onto the field, the crisp air cooling your warmed skin. There was a huge crowd. probably the biggest the teams ever had. But that makes sense, because this game was against your school's biggest rival. Luckily, despite the huge crowd you were able to lock eyes with those piercing green irises you have gotten to know so well over the past couple months. Everytime you see him he gets more and more attractive, and this time is no exception.

At this point, the teams routine is muscle memory and you’re done with it before you can blink. Most people would think that being thrown in the air is memorable, but your main concern is the growing wet patch on your panties that spreads each time you squeeze your thighs together. Just the thought of the man is enough to turn you on, and now that you’re sitting on the cold metal bench your imagination has time to go wild.

The only thing that snapped you out of your daze was the eruption of appaulause from the audience, and the realization that the other cheerleaders were standing up and running towards the players. You breath out a sigh of relief, recognizing the cheering as a signal that the game has ended.

“Hey, you coming?” Rose tugs on your arm, looking down at you still on the bench.

“Um, actually I don’t feel so well, I think I’m going to go home.”

“I should’ve known. You know, one day you’re going to have to go to a party.” Rose places her hands on her hips, giving you a sarcastically annoyed stare.

“And today is not that day.” You grab your backpack and sling it over your shoulder, turning back to Rose for a second. “Have fun and be safe.”

“I always do.” Rose places a chaste kiss on your cheek before turning back to the gathering crowd on the turf.

Instead of heading to the sidewalk and walking home, you duck under the bleachers and walk down the gravel path, pushing open the fence that separates the field and the school. The contents of your backpack slosh around while you sway your hips as you walk. Finally, you make it to the back wall of the school, leaning your back against it and plopping your heavy backpack down by your feet.

And now you wait.

Much to your convenience, the wait this time isn’t long, only five minutes passing before you see the familiar man following the same path you did earlier.

He has a pair of brown slacks on, pressing against his waist courtesy of his black belt. A button up white shirt hides the tattoos on his stomach, but he's rolling up his sleeves as he walks over to you. He's walking with intention, hungry eyes zeroed in on you.

When he’s only steps away, you cheekily bite your lip and use your finger to push up your skirt a little bit more.

Your actions have the intended effect, his eyes blowing wide and hands grasping at your waist.

“Y’can’t do that.”

Before you have a chance to ask what he means, his lips collide with yours, his tongue slipping in only moments after the initial kiss. But as soon as he started, he pulls away.

“Y’can’t be teasing me on the field like tha’, had me hard next t’my friends.” His hand is on the wall above your head, and his other arm is wrapped around your waist pulling you into his chest. He’s panting, and you are too.

“Sorry Mr. Styles,” you push your bottom lip out in a pout, giving him the most innocent look possible. “Just wanted to wear it cause I know how much you like it.”

“Aw, my babygirl wore this f’me? Well I guess y’can be forgiven. Now let’s get t’my house before I fuck yeh right on this wall.” He places a soft kiss to your lips picking up your backpack from the floor and turning to the direction of his car.

“But it hurts!” He turns around again, giving you a sympathetic look and caressing your cheek. The rings on his fingers are cold, but you’re used to the feeling.

“I know sweet girl, but I can’t take care of yeh here, s’too risky.” He pauses for a moment, thinking of a solution to your not so little problem. “How bout I give y’my fingers in the car? Hows that sound hm?” You nod eagerly, pulling his hand down from your cheek and holding it. He takes the signal and begins walking to his car while you follow him.

You never planned to sleep with your bullies dad. But a few months ago your parents dragged you to a family friends housewarming party, and that friend happened to be a friend of Harry’s too. There were no other teenagers there, so your focus was on the attractive older man who had been checking you out since you first locked eyes, and after ending up in the upstairs bathroom together the two of you have been fucking at least twice a week. You only learned that he’s a dad when you saw him for the first time outside the party. He didn’t look the part, and you actually thought he was in his 20s until he corrected you. He’s 38, having become a parent at only 20 years old. Your relationship is a bit taboo, but you’re a mature 18 year old and you and Harry get along well. So well that your time together has developed from casual sex to a mutually exclusive relationship. (Neither of you like labels, but you’re basically boyfriend and girlfriend).

He makes you really happy, and when you have to face off against Ella, it helps knowing that you have power over her, even though she doesn’t know it.

“Did she do anything today?” Harry is walking beside you, hands still intertwined.

“Besides spilling coffee on my shirt, nothing much.” Harry sighs in frustration and squeezes your hand as a show of affection.

“M’so sorry, I wish y’didn’t ‘ave to deal with her.”

The thing about Harry and Ella is they can barely be considered family. Ella’s mom is, for lack of a better word, a bitch. She’s snobby, conceited, and rude, and those behaviors have rubbed off on Ella. Another thing that rubbed off on her was her mom’s hatred for Harry. Being young parents put strain on their already struggling relationship, and they split before Ella’s first birthday. Harry said he tried his best to make it work for Ella’s sake, but her mom was looking for someone to pay for her life, and Harry had just started working his way up as a businessman.

Now, he’s a CEO, but luckily Ella’s mom already found a new beau with plenty of money, so she didn’t come crawling back to him. However, the success Harry achieved only a few years after their breakup made her jealous, and so she instilled that anger in their daughter. So currently Ella spends most of her time with her mother, and when she is with Harry she doesn’t treat him kindly.

“It’s not your fault Harry, you don’t have to apologize for her actions.”

“I know, I jus’ hate tha’ she treats yeh like that.” He sighs again, reaching into his pocket to grab his keys. In a few more steps you’re standing outside the sleek black suv, walking around to the passenger seat and sliding in once you hear the click of the door unlocking.

You both take a few seconds to breathe, an unspoken gesture to prepare for the night's events. Harry turns to you, a sexy smirk plastered on his face. “What d’ya think about fixin’ that ache darlin?” You nod eagerly, sliding down a bit in your seat to give your legs room to spread. “Think yeh can take off y’skirt fo’me?” Your head bobs once again as you nod, hooking your fingers under the elastic waistband and shimmying out of the skirt. While you’re doing that, Harry turns the car into the deserted street, using only one hand to steer.

You toss the tiny skirt into his lap, giving him a signal without distracting his eyes from the road. He reacts immediately, his free hand coming down to squeeze your thigh. You mewl at the contact and bite down on your lip, trying to stop your hips from bucking up in search of relief. His squeezes move up your thigh, and finally his fingers press against your weeping cunt. Swiftly, he pushes your soiled panties to the side, swiping his fingers up your folds collecting your juices. You shriek and buck your hips up into his hand, but much to your dismay he removes it from between your thighs. The car comes to a stop at a red light, and Harry takes the moment to look at you, his eyes wandering your squirming body. He’s practically drooling when he places his fingers in his mouth, tasting your sweet wetness.

“Sorry pup, jus’ needed t’taste yeh.” He chuckles again, and you whine softly in desperation. In one quick motion, he dives his hand back to your pussy, pressing his thumb on your swollen clit.

“Fuck!” The pleasure shoots up your spine, goosebumps raising across your body as he rubs circles on the puffy button. “Harry- please,”

“What d’ya want puppy? Want m’fingers?”

“Yes, yes,” you breathe out, words barely comprehensible through your panting.

“Alright, alright, I gotcha.” And with that his two fingers press into you, filling your tight hole perfectly. There is no hesitation before he begins pumping the digits in and out of you and his thumb never lets up on your bundle of nerves. “Such a needy puppy, got yeh soaking f’me from out in the stands hm?” His eyes are still on the road, but you can picture the lust filled eyes that are undoubtedly on his face.

“Get so wet jus- just thinkin’ about you,” you gasp, writhing as his fingers slam in and out of you.

“Yeah? This is my cunt, m’the only one who can make yeh this wet, isn’t tha’ right?”

“Only Harry.” At your confirmation he speeds his hand up, your vision clouding with white spots as the knot building in your stomach grows tighter and tighter.

All of a sudden, he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you empty. “Wha-” You begin to question him but you realize that he’s pulling into his driveway. Instead of complaining, you sit up quickly and unbuckle your seatbelt, pulling your skirt back up your legs to avoid being nude on his front lawn.

As soon as you feel the little jolt your hand yanks on the handle and you hop out of the car. Your brain is fuzzy with need and all you are focused on is alleviating the aching between your thighs. You hear Harry lock the car while you're on the steps, and you turn back to ensure that he’s behind you. And sure enough, he’s hot on your trail, just as eager as you to get inside and onto his bed. Your foot is tapping on the ground anxiously, waiting for Harry to unlock the front door. After what seems like an hour, he is next to you again, fumbling with the silver keychain in his hand, eventually unlocking and pushing open the door. You both practically run inside, hands roaming each other's bodies and lips locking as you shuffle through the hall.

You disconnect breathlessly when you reach the stairs, subconsciously wrapping your hands around Harry’s neck so he can pick you up bridal style. He does so hastily, barely a second passing before he’s plopping you onto the fluffy mattress. “Finally,” he pants, hands fumbling with his belt buckle. There’s a prominent bulge in his trousers, and although you’ve seen it plenty, you are always in awe at how thick and big he is. While he’s busy removing his clothes, you are practically drooling at the sight of his bare cock, full, heavy, and dripping precome.

“Harry?”

He looks back down at you with his emerald green eyes, simultaneously dropping his recently-removed shirt on the floor. “Can I ride you?” The look he gives you is indescribable, a mixture of need, lust, cockiness, and beauty all rolled up into one.

“Whatever y’want puppy,” His hands scoop under your ass, and he lifts you up and switches your positions. Now it’s your turn to undress, and Harry makes himself busy by running his hands up and down your torso. “So gorgeous, y’know that?” You nod quickly then pull your shirt off of your head. “Most beautiful girl in the world I reckon.” You blush at the compliment, butterflies being added to the many sensations occuring in your body. You straddle his thighs, wrapping your hand around his length and tugging a few times. A loud groan rumbles through his throat, and you smile knowing you’re the one who made him feel like that. “Thought- thought yeh said y’wanted to ride me pup.”

“I do.” You keep your hand on his cock, sitting up on your knees and lining him up with your weeping cunt. All at once, your body is put at ease as his cock fills you up perfectly. He bottoms out inside of you, both of you moaning and groaning while you adjust. “So big-” Your words come out in choppy pants, the syllables being cut off by your heaves. You suck in one deep breath and move upwards, sinking back down onto him quickly. His large hands hold a tight grip on your waist, guiding you up and down his member. His lips attach to your neck, suckling on the supple skin just enough so that it doesn’t bruise.

“What a dirty little puppy you are,” he growls, eyes focusing heavily on where your bodies connect, watching himself disappear inside of you as you bounce up and down on his cock.

“Feel so full-” Tingles ricochet down every part of your body, and your legs are becoming weaker with each movement. Harry can feel your movement faltering, so his hips thrust upwards to meet yours, fucking you from underneath. “Harry!”

“I know pup, I know.” His thumb strokes your cheek and he leans in for another kiss, devouring your plump lips and swirling his tongue around yours. “So fuckin tight,” The words tumble from his mouth in a low growl, which sends the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. His cock twitches inside of you, encouraging you to muster all your energy and finish both of you off. Adrenaline kicks in and your strength returns, riding him faster and harder than before. “Let go f’me Y/N.” It only takes a few more thrusts for you to come undone, Harry’s orgasm following suit. The waves of pleasure roll through your body, and you throw your head back in ecstasy as you allow the feeling to overcome your body. Spurts of his hot cum cover your velvety walls and you ride out your orgasms together, resting your foreheads against one another.

You end up sleeping at his house, feeling safe knowing that Ella is staying with her mom today. It’s normal for you to sleep at his place, seeing as both of you are usually so tired that you pass out before you can leave. What isn’t normal is for you to be woken up in the morning by Harry’s phone ringing. Harry is a deep sleeper, and you laugh at the sight of him conked out while his ringtone blares on the nightstand just a few inches away. Carefully, you reach over his sleeping body and grab the phone, planning on hanging it up and going back to bed. However, when you saw that it was Ella calling, you changed your mind. Making a split second decision, you slide the icon to the right, holding it up to your ear.

“Hello?” Her whiney voice rings through your eardrum and you wince. Not the nicest thing to be woken up to.

“Hello,” you answer, your voice not reflecting the cocky grin that spread across your face.

“Who the hell is this!” she shrieks, and you make a mental note that she must not be a morning person.

“A friend of your dads.” Your response is once again calm and monotone, trying to stifle the laugh that is bubbling in your throat.

“Ugh! What’s your name?”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Desperate Measures 1

Warnings: nonconsent and rape (miniseries); stalking, fear, intimidation.

This is dark!Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: At first, you think it’s a joke when you get the strange messages, but when they don’t stop, you realise too late how real it all is.

Note: This was going to be a one shot but it kept going and going and going, so it’s gonna be split in 2.

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Have a piece of American dream Open up, and swallow, on your knees And say Thank you I'd like some desperate measures, please

💌

The first picture was sent on Monday. You remembered it clearly unlike most Monday mornings. It was the same boring ritual; a coffee that had long turned cold, a pen that wouldn’t write, and a computer that ran as if on dial-up. 

The only bright side was that your small desk was near a window and you could look out onto the city streets, though they were hardly less miserable than your own existence. You were so high up the people were merely moving specks. You often found yourself distracted by the crowded traffic below.

You were drawn from such a distant reverie by the buzz of your phone. You kept it face down by your monitor. Despite the temptation, you limited yourself to succumbing only once an hour. You sat back and your chair creaked as it tilted beneath you. You checked the time in the corner of your screen and reached for your cell, the rubber case scuffed and scratched at the edges.

Notifications for the same emails that sat open in front of you and a few personal ones in the next bubble. Another for the game you played on the subway or when you were overly listless, several updates for your hoarded apps, and a single text. 

There was no number attached to the message, only the foreboding thick font that read ‘unknown number’. You chewed on your thumb as you leaned forward on your elbow and swiped your screen up and punched in your password. The screen flashed and you hit the last notification. No words, just a file. You hit download.

You blinked as it ate your data and the image of your apartment door appeared. You glanced around and laughed to yourself. You shook your head and keyed in your response; ‘very funny, Eva.’ You hit send and set your phone back down. 

Your old friend liked her jokes and you hadn’t missed her little ploy the last time she showed up at your place angry over her latest fling. You had thought she was getting a picture of the stain on the hallway carpet that looked suspiciously like blood… or feces… or a mixture of the two.

You went back to your work and switched the document you’d been picking at for most of the morning. Your job was as entertaining as watching paint dry then peel from age. When you applied for an editing position, you’d expected thrillers and melodramas. Instead, you got dry textbooks and educational guides.

You yawned and pushed through to your scheduled break. You dumped your cold coffee and headed down to the café to grab another. The coffee they kept in the office was cheap and bland. You ate your salad in the lunchroom as you watched the clock tick away. You checked your phone. No reply to that unusual text. Eva must’ve chickened out.

You scoffed and switched chats to send her usual number an ‘lol’. You tucked your phone in your pocket and punched back in before you headed back to your desk. A couple more hours and you’d be home to stew in the early week daze.

The last half of the day went quicker and your subway ride was uneventful; well, for New York. You walked home from your stop and pulled out your phone as you climbed the stairs. You slowed down and moved your feet blindly. You’d finally gotten an answer. ‘Eva?’

You opened the chat again and hit the image. It filled the screen and you squinted as you came to a stop. The stain wasn’t there. Your landlord had finally relented and had the entire hallway torn up and replaced with an even duller shade of grey. The picture had been taken since then; within the last month. The last time you’d seen Eva, you’d gone to hers.

Your chest clenched and you gulped. You hit the little icon in the corner of the conversation and hit ‘block’. You continued to your floor and neared your door. You looked down the hallway and back to your door. You tried the handle. Locked. You took a breath.

It could still be a joke. The stoner next door, Perry, had your number from when you agreed to feed his cat that one time. Maybe he was high or just trying to be funny. Still, it hadn’t come up under his name. Well, he might have changed his number since then.

You unlocked your door and scurried inside. You made sure to turn the latch and slide the chain into place. You tossed your bag beside the mat of shoes and added your flats to the pile. You dropped your phone on the coffee table and untucked your work shirt as you walked around the small living room. 

Nothing was out of place, not that you truly believed whoever it was had gotten past your door. You rubbed your forehead and went to the small kitchen that looked out into the living room. You grabbed a can of sparkling lime whatever and plopped it next to your phone.

You went to your bedroom and stripped yourself of your stiff work clothes and pulled on the night shirt crumpled atop your blanket. You looked down at the thin grey cotton and reached under to unhook your bra. You flung it in the corner knowing you’d be cursing yourself when you couldn’t find it the next morning.

You flopped onto the couch and grabbed your remote. You turned on some mindless Youtube video and opened the mobile game which had taken too much of your life from you. You connected three and four and five and somewhere in between your existentialism kicked in and had you wondering at the point of it.

You closed the app before it ate all of your battery and your phone shook in your hand. 

‘You didn’t tell me who Eva is.’ The message flashed over the top of the screen then disappeared. You pulled down the notification and hit it. You were certain you’d blocked the number. The other messages were gone though and ‘unknown number’ was still emblazoned across the top. You blocked the convo again and dimmed the screen. 

You plugged in your phone and sprawled out across the sofa. You stared at the television, a blur and a buzz to your frantic mind. 

It was dark already when you dragged yourself off the couch and heated up a microwave dinner. You ate it without tasting and your phone chimed to signal a full charge. You left it as it was on the arm of the couch and resumed your repose on the sofa. You fell asleep to the angered commentary of a gamer trying to fight a clam.

You awoke with a start. You blinked through your daze as your television showed stills of mountain and grassy fields. You sat up and grabbed your phone. You checked the time; midnight. Another message.

‘She’s the one you had coffee with last week.’ It said.

You gaped and dropped your phone. You looked around as if whoever it was would be hiding in the corner. You shook as you reached down and took the phone. You swallowed and began to type.

‘Whoever this is, this isn’t funny anymore. Cut it out.’

‘Funny?’ The response came quickly.

‘I mean it. Stop.’

‘Good night, sweetheart.’

You recoiled at the message and bit your lip to keep it from trembling. You checked your door again, the chain still in place, checked every inch of your apartment in your paranoia. Nothing. You let out a breath and took a blanket from your bed and huddled up on the couch. You turned on a playlist, not sure you’d be sleeping much that night.

💌

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep again but you rose before your alarm. You drank your coffee as the sky turned a duller shade of grey. You went through your usual morning dance and headed out the door with a bagel hanging from your mouth. You chowed down on your way to the subway. You felt your bag buzz as you stepped on the train.

You ignored it and clung to the bar as you counted the stops. You got off and stopped by the coffee shop. You ordered a black tea and headed down to your building. Your desk was as it was when you left it. The chair was tucked in and your mouse was hidden behind the keyboard. You sat and booted the laggy machine.

As you waited for it to start, you stirred around in your bag for your phone. You had another message. You dreaded opening it but the circle just kept spinning in the middle of the monitor. You hit the bubble and your phone unlocked.

You took a sharp breath as the image glared back at you. It was you, on the subway, that morning judging by the jacket, staring at the door as the photo was taken unknowingly. Your phone slipped from your grasp and you spun in your chair.

Everything was as it should be. Your co-workers looked just as dead inside as you. Your boss was boxed up in his office on a ‘conference call’. You shuddered and turned back to your desk. You burned your tongue on your tea and signed into your computer. Your phone vibrated beside your shoe and you bent to retrieve it.

‘You looked tired this morning’. The next message blipped on the screen.

You were quick to sweep the clock upward and type. ‘Who the fuck is this?’

‘Sweetheart. I don’t like that kind of language.’ The response was quick and sharp, even in text.

‘Tell me who you are? Why are you doing this?’

‘One thing at a time.’ The letters burned into your vision.

‘Who are you?’ You keyed in again. No answer. 

You set the phone down and watched it. Five minutes, no buzz. You hovered your hand over your mouse and tried to focus on your monitor. Your heart was so loud in your ears, your head began to pound.

💌

When you got on the subway at the end of the day, you looked around frantically as you settled into a seat, your bag hugged to your chest. You glanced up and down the car a dozen times over as you awaited your cue. Your toe tapped anxiously and you stood so fast you were dizzy when your stop came up.

You rushed down the sidewalk, peeking over your shoulder every other step. You didn’t say anything unusual; no one following you, no one watching. You ran up to your building and unlocked the door clumsily. 

You hurried up the stairs and down the hall to your apartment. The key slid in roughly and you turned it so quick, you were certain it would bend. You skirted inside and put the chain in place.

You looked down as your thin-soled boot brushed over something. A pile of flyers slipped through the slot in your absence. You picked them up and sorted through them, an envelope amidst the mess. On its face, it read ‘for my sweetheart’.

You hovered by the door, staring at the envelope. After a moment, you slung your bag down on the floor and placed the flyers on the end table by the lamp. You clicked on the light and ran your thumb along the lip. You carefully opened it and pulled out the paper inside. You unfolded it and your breath caught in your chest.

It was a sketch, quite well done, of you. You’d worn that sweater last week. You went to the park and walked around, sat by the fountain, tossed rocks into the babbling basin. They had been there, whoever it was. How long had they been watching?

And they had been at your door, close enough to slip this through the slot. You folded the drawing and shoved it back in the envelope. You stomped into the kitchen and tossed it into the bin beneath the counter. You backed up and gripped the other counter behind you. You felt a lump in your throat. 

What the fuck was going on?

💌

You started going in early to work; catching the train half an hour before your usual one. You left late and changed your route between the station and your building. You entered through the back, hopping the low concrete barrier between the apartments and the backlot.

Still, it only gave you a single day of peace. No messages, no pictures; and you thought the game was over. You hoped it was. That it was just a sick joke that had finally grown tiring. 

But Thursday saw another image of you just outside your work building. Friday, another of you on the subway.

The weekend was listless. You did your shopping quickly and on Sunday, you wore a loose hoodie to the laundromat. You could find nothing peculiar around you. The city was full of sketchy people but none seemed to be watching you. The hordes were still about their own lives; ignorant of those around them. You felt entirely alone, as if you were being hunted.

Monday was much the same as the last but how could it ever be dull again. You shut your phone off so you could focus on your work. When you were finally done, you dialed the toll-free number for your provider. You took a taxi home and spent two hours on the line but you got your new number and a sense of relief.

You kept your phone on, ringer on max, and nothing. You watched the screen rather than the television but it only lit up with emails and a random text from your mother. You slept in your bed that night,almost soundly.

You still kept your eye over your shoulder. Still searched out any sign of unusual interest. Perhaps you were clueless or maybe your lack of response had finally gotten through to them. Once their messages bounced back as out of service, they might have given up. They got their laughs, now you wanted peace.

It lasted until Friday. 

A full week and you were certain it was over. You finished work and stopped by the liquor store for a bottle of wine on your way home. You could finally let loose. Life had gone back to its usual tedium. You browsed the reds lazily but pondered a pack of coolers instead. Your phone buzzed. You slid it from your pocket out of habit.

‘That cabernet on the top shelf is on sale. Just to your left.’ You stared at the message and backed away from the shelf. You looked around but all the other customers seemed intent on their own purchases. You gulped and blocked the unknown sender.

You left emptied-handed and ran for the train. You got home an hour later than usual. You raced up the stairs and stopped dead in front of your door. The tall gift bag looked familiar; it had been hanging in the store by the till. You neared and peered inside. The golden cap of the wine that had stood in front of you; top shelf.

You bent and flipped the little card attached to the string.

‘For you, sweetheart. Enjoy your weekend.’

You stood and grabbed the bag. You glanced up and down the halls and stormed back down the grey carpet. Your feet hammered down the stairs and you burst through the back doors. You threw the bag into the dumpster and heard the shatter. Your lip trembled as you spun and sprinted back inside.

When you reached your apartment, you called Eva. You struggled to open your dresser with one hand and started pulling out clothes and stuffing them into your neon duffle. She finally picked up.

“E-eva,” you stuttered, “can I-- Can I stay with you, please? J-just a night or two--”

“Wohoa, whoa, slow down,” she said. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t… I can’t tell you now. I’m just-- I’m freaking out and I can’t stay here.” Your voice cracked and you sniffed back tears, “I-- Please. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I… I have plans but I can cancel,” she offered.

“No, no, I… don’t--”

“You’ll have the apartment to yourself,” she said, “I’ll just let Ray know I’ll be late.”

“What time are you supposed to--”

“Seven but it’s fine,” she assured you. “You okay?”

“I… Wait, you’re fucking around with Ray again?”

“Do you want the couch or not?” She half-kidded, “you want me to meet you there or--”

“No, no,” you whisked into your washroom and grabbed your toothbrush, “I’m coming right now.” You returned to the bedroom and shoved an armful in the bag. “Eva… thank you.”

“Stay on the phone,” she said softly. “Please… you’re scaring me.”

“Okay,” you zipped up the duffle, “yeah, I’ll stay on.”

💌

You hung up as you came up to Eva’s building. She met you at the door, a thick silence between you as you sensed what she wanted to ask you. You weren’t sure how to tell you. You weren’t sure if you could.

You pushed the door closed behind you as you entered her apartment. It was cuter than yours, a spiral staircase led to a loft above and the curtains were lace and matched the dainty pillows on the couch. You placed your bag on the floor and she turned to you.

“Just give me a moment,” you said. She didn’t need to ask.

She went to the desk in the corner of the spacious room and turned on the ring light of the round mirror. She fished through her make-up box and pulled out her eyeliner. She was already done her base and highlight. You neared and hovered just beside her desk.

“I don’t even know…” you stopped yourself and went to your bag. You pulled out the paper you’d shoved in the side pocket on your way out. “Look.”

You crossed to her again and unfolded the sketch on her desk. She glanced down from drawing a wing along her eye and lowered the pencil. She blinked and shrugged.

“Look, someone dropped this through my mail slot. No address on the envelope, just this.” You felt crazy. “And I thought it was all some joke. They were sending me pictures, of me, of my building… I blocked them but they just kept on. I even changed my number.”

She scrunched her lips and looked back to her mirror. She finished her other eye and set the pencil down.

“You call the police?” She asked calmly.

“I… the drawing is all I have. I just deleted the messages when they came because… well, I didn’t think much of it at first. Not until… There was a bottle of wine waiting for me when I came home. The very same I was looking at right before I booked it for my train,” you rubbed your cheek, “Eva, I’m not crazy. I swear.”

“I believe you,” she said, “why wouldn’t I but… there’s nothing you can do but keep a log of what happens from here on out. Screencap everything.”

“You think… you think the police would help if I did?” You asked.

“Not much. Stalking isn’t really something they take seriously. I knew this girl in college-- Well, the evidence can at least get you a restraining order… if you ever figure out who’s sending you all this,” she paused and glanced down at the drawing. “Whoever it is, they got talent.”

“I’m sure they’d be happy to hear that,” you scoffed and crossed your arms.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay here with you?”

You pondered her offer but shook your head.

“As much as I think you should send Ray along, no. I can’t ask any more of you.” You sighed and grabbed the sketch. You dragged your feet to the couch and flopped down on the cushions, “I really do appreciate it.”

“I always told you to get out of that neighbourhood,” she said as she searched her assortment of make-up, “but you know I never mind you hanging out.”

💌

You spent the night on Eva’s couch, alone. She didn’t get home until three in the morning and you waited until noon for her to wake up. When she did, her face was smeared with eyeliner and her hair a mess. 

You hadn’t touched your phone since the night before. You chewed your thumb as you waited for her to emerge from the shower, restless and unsure what to do with yourself. She slammed the lid down on her coffee machine and growled as she turned and crossed her arms.

“Are you okay?” she asked sharply.

“I’m sorry,” you said as you stopped pacing. You barely remembered getting up to walk circles around the coffee table, “I just don’t know what to do.”

“Well, how about a latte?” she yawned behind her hand, “my coffee machine is fucked… again.”

“Um, maybe that’s best, get out and… distract myself,” you twiddled your fingers as your stomach ached. You hadn’t eaten anything since the day before and that was just after noon.

“We’ll get lunch,” she rubbed her forehead, “soak up the wine.”

You shook your head and said nothing. She always drank too much around Ray but you didn’t have the energy for that argument again. So you stayed quiet and watched her disappear into her bedroom.

She emerged as you zipped up your purse. You didn’t bother with your phone as you waited by the door but felt listless without the device. It was like a shield you used when you went out in the world. It kept you from eye contact or awkward conversation.

You set off and headed down the street to the pub that seamlessly shifted from brunch to ladies’ night every Saturday. You ordered breakfast tacos as you sat just inside the large floor length windows that looked out onto the shady patio. The other guest lent a sense of normalcy as they carried on their own conversations and reminded you that you were just another ant on the hill.

As you got your latte in the stemmed glass, Eva pulled out her phone and scowled at the shaking. She was so wrapped up in her texts with Ray she hadn’t even mentioned the reason for your overnighter. You were happy for it and yet, you couldn’t think of anything else.

“Jesus, I told him we were having breakfast and he’s blowing up my phone,” she huffed, “just a second.”

“Eve,” you said as she stood and slid her thumb across the screen, “our foods gonna be here--”

“I won’t be long,” she promised and lifted the speaker to her ear and turned away, “Ray, I’ll be over later, promise. I barely slept--”

Her voice trailed away as she wove between tables and pushed out onto the patio and went to the short fence to chat beyond the ears of diners. You sipped from your drink and stared down at the splintered curve of the table. You couldn’t stay with Eva forever and she was hardly any comfort in her distraction with her on-again, off-again dirt bag. Maybe, if you moved--

“There you are, sweetheart,” the low voice startled you and you sat stalk straight as a figure smoothly slid into Eva’s empty chair, “you gave me quite a scare, up and leaving without a word…”

You stared wide-eyed at the stranger across from you. Well, you knew who he was. Everyone in the city, in the country, even the world, knew Steve Rogers. He smiled at you as his blue eyes glimmered. His posture was cool and confident and it was you who felt out of place.

And you knew, it was him. The shock was not enough to fuel your denial as that feeling deep down assured you of it. That little voice that told you this was your tormentor and that you were fucked.

“I…” you breathed and blinked. You couldn’t find the words, you hardly understood the storm of emotions flowing through you. You glanced through the window as Eva threw her hand up and continued berating her phone, “it’s you?”

“I hate that it has to be this way,” he said, “you know, my work keeps me out of town so much and I just wish we had more time.”

“Wha…” you gulped and gripped the edge of the table, “why--?”

“You haven’t been answering me,” his smile fell, “I don’t like being ignored.”

Your hand shook and you kept it in your lap to hide the rising terror along your spine. You sat paralysed as he sighed and glanced around the restaurant. He tilted his head and pushed his shoulders back.

“You threw out my gift,” he said evenly, “that wasn’t very nice.”

“Go…” you uttered, “go, please--”

“Sweetheart, we’re just talking,” he took a gulp of Eva’s Americano casually, “I missed you… I miss you every day and it hurts that we have to be apart.”

Your shoulders slumped and you clutched your hands in fists on your lap. You could scream but what good would that do. He was Captain America, the first avenger, a hero. 

As if your thoughts sent a banner waving, a young kid approached the table and smiled nervously as he held one of the colouring pages supplied by the restaurant in his hands.

“Um, Captain, uh, America,” the kid stuttered, “will you sign-- Will you sign my--?”

The kid smiled through tight lips and held up the colouring page. Instead, Steve chuckled and took his cap from his head and fished around in his pocket. He pulled out a sharpie and signed the brim and placed it back on the kid’s head.

“There you go,” he said.

“Thank you, Cap!” the kid almost squealed, “oh my gosh!”

“No problem,” Steve laughed and watched the kid run back to the table where his mother sat, she waved at the man across from you and mouthed a thanks. He cleared his throat and stood as he tucked away the marker, “sorry, this is why I didn’t wanna do this in public,” he gripped his hip with one hand, “but… we’ll have our time.” He slowly backed away, “I’ll text you. You’ll answer.”

He grinned one last time and strode away. He stopped before the door as he held it open for Eva and she batted her lashes at him as she gushed. You could guess at her star struck words but couldn’t make them out. He left as she finally stopped her babbling and she almost skipped over to you.

“Oh my god, did you see him?” she trilled, “I didn’t think he’d be even better looking in-person.”

“See who?” you asked dumbly as you tried to disguise your discomfort in your latte.

“Steve Rogers,” she announced, “ugh, even without your phone, you got your head in the ground.”

[perpetual-stories]

Inspirational Advise You Need To Hear: Writing Edition

This is going to be an inspirational post. I’ll be writing down advise that you didn’t know you needed to hear or you heard before but need to be reminded. This is advise I wish someone would have told me sooner, but of course it’s never to late to implement it and follow them.

1. It is never to late to start writing

I started writing when I was in elementary. The moment I had properly mastered reading I began to write. I had the pleasure to fall in love with a good book when I was three years old. Granted, I could not read what was in my hand, but the amount of care and respect I had for a book was beyond my understanding as a toddler. I just knew that a book was something I should care for and respect.

Don’t feel pressured or intimidated by the fact I started writing in elementary school, that’s not the point of what I am intending to do. I started young, but I could have well started in middle school, high school, or even this year. It’s never to late to start writing! Grab a pen or pencil and begin writing down your first idea! Many successful people start working towards their dream a little later in their lives, but they go for it! Don’t let age ever stop you from doing something.

2. No Idea is a Bad Idea

If you have an idea for a short story, or a novel go for it! Don’t think it’s a bad idea, or that no one will ever read it. Don’t shut yourself down before you even had a chance to write it down. A small idea can become the greatest thing for you. J.K Rowling had the idea for Harry Potter written on a napkin, and she kept at it; it eventually became one of the biggest franchises in the world. You can become the next big thing, but all you gotta do is write down that idea you think isn’t good. You could surprise yourself.

I’m going to be honest here and now. It’s hard to come by an original idea. It is, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try and write down your story. All the greatest things that ever happen are all inspired or based off of something else. If you’re story is inspired by another story or its similar to another one, write it down! Don’t ever think your story is not worth bringing it to life.

3. Write Whatever you Want

It’s your story, you can write it however you want. There are no write or wrong ways or writing a story, you just write. If you want to write a sequel or prequel to Víctor Hugo’s Les Miserables, go for it! No one is stopping you. If you want to reimagine Twilight but through Jacob’s perspective go ahead (of course you need to acquire the rights of the story and characters), but as a fanfic go right ahead! If all you want to do is write fan fictions about your celebrity crush then go for it! Don’t ever be embarrassed or writing what you want to write.

Hell, I am a 23 year old woman in a loving relationships and I still think about writing Yami Yugi fan fiction where I am the main love interest, or fan fiction about Tom Holland. I am not embarrassed, or ashamed that I think about writing that. It’s what I am interested and what I like.

Write about what you like, and what you love. Again, never let age or insecurities stop you from that.

4. Read, Read, Read, Watch, Watch, Watch

Don’t ever let someone tell you, “All you do is read, you’re so lame.” Or, “All you do is watch movies and tv shows, don’t you ever go outside?” Don’t EVER let anyone knock you down for those. What people don’t know is that as writers we have to read and watch tv shows to get understanding of how characters, writing, and worlds are created.

Books, tv shows and movies are different when it comes to writing style but it’s still writing nonetheless.

Books help us with understanding writing structures, grammar and character development (to name a few). Tv shows and movies also help with that, but also help the writers get a visual of characters and story line.

I personally enjoy reading and love watching plays. Playwrights often have the best characters because they create them very realistically. Playwrights are the best actors, and actors are the best playwrights. They go hand in hand. If I want to study characters and their development, I read a good play or watch a good play. Plays are very important, in understanding characters. I definitely recommend reading plays to get an understanding of human nature. If you need a list of play recommendations feel free to ask me :)

Great books, and shows, and movies have one thing in common - great writing. So don’t ever feel like you’re not doing anything or doing much by spending time doing one of the aforementioned. We are all great writers and we write at our own pace.

5. “Comparison is the thief of joy.” —Theodore Roosevelt

Don’t ever compare yourself to anyone else. I know it’s hard not to, but don’t. You make yourself feel bad. Everyone and anyone can be a great writer. It takes time and practice. Don’t think your writing will never be published, don’t ever think you don’t have the skills to finish a book.

All the great writers must have felt what we all feel. But they didn’t let that stop them. They wouldn’t have published their first book is they told themselves they would never be as great or successful as the writers before them. They wouldn’t have created the sequels to your favourite series if all they did was compare themselves to others.

Shakespeare didn’t get to where he was or be who he was if all he did was compare his writings to Aristotle. No, because he followed his passion he is known all over the world as a great playwright. Stephen King wouldn’t have written the greatest thrillers and horror stories if he compared himself to Edgar Allen Poe, and told himself he couldn’t do it. No, Stephen King made a name for himself and does horror just as did as Mr. Poe.

“Comparison is the thief of joy.” Don’t ever let anyone take what makes you happy away from you.

6. Ask for Help

It’s hard to do things on your own, but it’s not impossible.

Don’t be afraid to ask for help. Having a close group of friends or family who support you is the best thing you can have when creating a whole new world with characters, traditions, religions, etc.

If you’re writing a story about a Muslim community reach out! Ask the Muslim community or someone you know. If you don’t know anyone reach out online! Thanks to the Internet it’s very fast to acquire all kinds of information. Don’t write about what you think you know about something without being 100% certain of it, you don’t want to offend an entire community about anything or everything.

I am also here to help! If you’re too shy to reach out to someone for advise regarding writing, or need someone to proofread your work. I’m here for you! :)

There you have it folks! Inspirational advice you may or may not have needed :). I hope you all read these and few motivation begin to boil Inside you :)

If you found my advice inspirational and know other people should read it, please feel share to share, repost, or comment, or do whatever you have to do to help others hear this advice :)

[mionemymind]

Do I owe her the truth?

Summary: (Hermione x Gender Neutral Reader) Should Y/n tell the truth to Hermione no matter the consequences? 

Words: 5223

A/N: Let me know what y’all think. I’m sorry I having been writing a lot but I figured you deserve something for waiting for so long. Thank you for being patient. You all are the best!!

According to the great philosopher Kant, one must always do the nature of the good principle regardless of the outcome. Simply put, even if a killer was knocking on the door and asking for your friend, you must answer with the truth of their location. Although a lot argue over philosophies, Y/n simply minded their business. They figured that they have their whole life to sort out what good things they must do and bad things they must keep away. However, a bright witch among their age, made them question every single good and bad thing they had sorted out in life. Because on the very most important day of Hermione’s life, Y/n pondered the question, “Do I owe her the truth?”

The story starts out small like any simple home. You must start with a bit of foundation and the right material for it to be built. So, when Y/n transferred from Ilvermorny to Hogwarts, the very first student they were introduced to was Hermione Granger.

Walking around the halls, Y/n found themselves slightly amazed at the walls of the castle. From the decorations, to the hallways, its scenery, and even its people were more amazing than of Ilvermorny. “Right this way.” Professor McGonagall led the young sorcerer to the very Great Albus Dumbledore. Y/n had only read of the magnificent things Professor Dumbledore has done for the wizarding world and was only slightly scared to meet her current headmaster. While opening the vastly large door, Y/n slowly followed Professor McGonagall in. At the sound of the doors opening, a booming but soft voice uttered, “Ah there you are! Do come sit.” Walking up the stairs, Y/n sat at the seat in front of his desk. Sweaty palms and nervous thoughts clouded their mind. “It is a great pleasure to welcome you to Hogwarts. I know you must be eager to survey the school so I will make this brief.” With a slight pause, Dumbledore had signaled for McGonagall to leave. “As a long-standing tradition of Hogwarts, let me first assign you your house.” Quickly, a hat that looked as if it lived through many ages, was placed on Y/n’s head. “Fierce loyalty like no other to those she cares about why you must be HUFFLEPUFF!”

The hat was taken off as quickly as it was placed. Soon, a new attire was placed on her lap. “Here is your new schedule that corresponds with what you should be learning now. I took great liberty to consult with your headmaster about your curriculum. They talk highly about you in regards to your academics and wizarding abilities.” Y/n blushed at the sound of the compliment. They weren’t used to the praise given to them. “To make sure you are consistently tested, I made sure to put you in classes with one of the brightest witches of your age – ah and here she is.” Y/n turned around and suddenly timed slowed down. A girl with red and black robes entered the room as if she already owned it. It was the confidence that surrounded her aura the most, but Y/n had noticed more of the beauty that she shows.

“This young witch is Hermione Granger.” Leaping to their feet, Y/n stood up to shake Hermione’s hand. “Y/n Y/l/n.” Hermione gave a small smile and sat next to Y/n as Dumbledore had briefly explained the rules of the school. “Ah – I believe that takes care of everything. Ms. Granger please give our newest student a welcoming tour around the school. I have already informed your teachers of your absence. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask. Other than that, welcome to Hogwarts.”

The two young students left the office and went to the nearest bathroom. While Y/n changed to their new robes, Hermione had fiddled with her hands. “Not to intrude, but you must be extremely smart.” Y/n was buttoning their shirt when Hermione had answered the question. Good thing she couldn’t see them otherwise Hermione would have seen how red Y/n turned. Scratching their neck, Y/n replied, “I guess you could say that.”

“Oh, it’s not a guess rather a fact. You happen to have been put with some of the most difficult classes Hogwarts can currently offer for our year. That’s not something every new student experiences.” It was the way Hermione had said it as a matter of fact that made Y/n blush more. Exiting the stall, Hermione turned around and saw that they had their tie around their neck. “Need help?” Hermione said while pointing at their tie.

Once again Y/n blushed and nodded. Hermione was quick to get close to Y/n and started to tie their tie. “I do have to warn you though. There’s not a lot of competition when it comes to academics in Hogwarts. Don’t get me wrong, there is certain bright students, but none seem to come close.” Tightening the tie, Hermione looked into Y/n eyes. It was the first time she noticed how deep they looked. Regardless of their color, they were enchanting as well. “However, you seem to be my closest competition. So, I will have to take every chance I can get to beat you.” Y/n chuckled at the bright young witch in front of them. Hermione backed away after realized how close they were and cleared her throat. “Don’t take it as a laughing matter. Academics are truly important to me.”

Y/n had put their hands up in defense. “Don’t worry…I just find it funny that you think it’s going to be easy to compete with me.” Y/n smirked at their come back. If you were to ask where the hell that confidence came from, don’t bother. Y/n doesn’t know the answer either. With a similar smirk, Hermione said, “You and I are going to be great together.”

The story continues as the home is built. The next few things needed are the walls and roof.

It was the summer after their third year when Hermione, Harry, and Y/n had spent the summer at the Burrow. Ron had almost forgotten to invite Y/n when Ginny saved the day. The three of showed up at the house all dropping in one by one. Y/n was the last one to drop in, showing up during dinner time. Slowly walking in with trunk in hand, Y/n was met with the sound of their name echoing through the house. Ginny was the first to notice Y/n’s presence and loudly yelled, “Y/n!” Ginny quickly gave Y/n a hug when the echoes came from up the stairs.

“Did someone say Y/n?” George asked.

“Y/n?”

“Are they here?”

“Y/n’s here?!”

Hermione was the last one to ask when a stampede of people came running down the stairs. “Y/n!” One by one, they all started a group hug with Y/n in the middle. “Guys, I can’t breathe.” They all broke apart allowing Y/n to regain air, but was cut off when Molly came swooping in. “Oh, hello dear. I was beginning to worry that you couldn’t make it – are you hungry? You must be starving. I cooked your favorite.” Molly was quick to ramble on and on when Fred had pried the two apart. “Mum, I think Y/n needs oxygen. We’ll go ahead and start setting up the table.”

Molly slightly blushed and smiled at Y/n. “I’m glad that you’re here Y/n. Now come on people, dinner won’t serve itself.” The group was quick to help around the house, working like a well-oiled machine. Soon, everyone was sitting down at the table enjoying their home cooked meal. Y/n was sitting smack dab in the middle between Ginny and Hermione. Across from them were the boys.

Over the course of dinner, plenty of topics arose such as school, quidditch, muggles (only because Arthur can’t get enough), and more. The boys plus Ginny and Y/n couldn’t stop talking about the upcoming Quidditch World Cup. Hermione butted in about how glad she was that summer finally came. It was especially hard on the girl considering her tight schedule.

After dinner came the night. The house was quiet as the guests separated to their assigned rooms. It just so happens that Hermione and Y/n were assigned Charlie’s old room. If it weren’t for the dragon paraphernalia, Charlie’s room was actually quite neat and well organized. “Going to take a gander but I think Charlie really likes dragons.” Hermione snorted at Y/n’s obviously sarcastic comment. “Oh really? Could’ve mistaken me, I thought he was a quidditch fan.” Jokes aside, the two changed into their sleeping garments and went to bed.

Well Hermione went to bed while Y/n stared at the ceiling deep in thought. It was not until the moon was shining brightly through the window that Y/n realized how late it was. Considering the time, they tried to sleep but failed miserably. After giving up, Y/n laid on their side and faced towards Hermione. Seeing as the young wizard had already spent too much time alone with their thoughts, Y/n poked Hermione’s face until she was awake.

“Hermione. Psssst. Hermione” Y/n whispered as they poked her. “Hermione. Psst.” At the feeling of someone poking her, Hermione swatted their hand away. Seeing Hermione with an annoyed sleeping face was funny to Y/n but being alone sucked more. “Hermione, are you awake?” Suddenly, Hermione’s eyes opened; it was like a fierce dragon was staring into your soul. She looked mad at the fact someone woke her up from her slumber. “What Y/n?”

With an innocent smile, Y/n looked at Hermione and said, “Wanna tell secrets?” Hermione rolled her eyes and faced the opposite way of Y/n. “Go to sleep Y/n. We have to wake up early soon.” Y/n groaned at Hermione’s words. She was right, of course, but Y/n couldn’t go to sleep. Night was always the hardest.

“Come on Hermione.” Y/n received no response from the girl. Only a silent shoulder. Laying on her back and hands behind their head, Y/n looked at the ceiling. “Ya know, I know your secret…at least one of them.” Y/n glanced at Hermione and she still was facing away. “Or maybe two of them. Well, it’s the same secret, it just so happens that two Hermiones happen to share them.” Hermione quickly shot up and faced towards Y/n to see them smirking. “It’s not that hard to tell that a bright witch like you can’t be in two classes at once, but somehow you were.” Hermione grabbed her pillow and proceeded to hit Y/n with it. “Don’t you dare tell a soul Y/n Y/l/n. I won’t be afraid to hex you.”

Y/n grabbed the pillow and threw it back at the witch, making sure to aim at her face. “Well maybe next time, try not to be in two places at once. It sure threw me off when I had to drop off a note for the Professor only to have found you in a different class. And after I returned, you were still at the same spot I left you.”

“Unbelievable. I knew I should have volunteered to do that, but you just had to be faster than me.” Hermione rolled her eyes and sat up against the bed frame. Y/n followed suit and did the same thing. There was still an obvious smirk on their face. After a couple minutes, the silence broke. “Well, are you going to tell me your secret since you exposed mine?”

“Well Ms. Grainger lets see what secret you get to hear today.” Pondering for a moment, Y/n tried to think of information that no one knew, something of equivalently as important such as time traveling. “I got it! However, you have to promise me that you won’t tell a soul not even Crookshanks.” Y/n held out their hand with only their pinky in the air. Hermione looked them in the eye as she said, “I promise.” They locked pinkies as Y/n said, “I think I like girls.”

Hermione blinked for a couple seconds which only led devasting thoughts in Y/n’s mind. It didn’t take long, but she responded with, “Oh for Merlin’s sake. If you’re going to tell me a secret Y/n, at least make it to something that isn’t so painfully obvious.”

Hermione broke the gaze as Y/n stared in disbelief. “Don’t look so surprised. Just as you said, maybe next time try not to be caught staring at every single girl in Hogwarts.”

Gulping down their fear, Y/n said, “You don’t mind?” Hermione shook her head. “Nope. Not one single bit. You’re still the same, just love who you love except for racists and he who shall not be named. Well there’s a list. As long as they’re not genuinely bad people and you can see them joining SPEW, then I approve.”

Y/n looked at the girl beside her in amazement and wonder. They continued the conversation as the night grew, telling even more daring secrets as the previous. But one secret did remain with Y/n that night, it was their everlasting crush on Hermione Jean Granger.

The second to last thing a home needs is the spark to light the fireplace as well as the furniture. That way the home can feel as warm and as safe to those that harbor in it.

It was a winter wonderland at Hogwarts. Students were preparing to travel back home to their respective families. However, a group of students decided to spend the last weekend at Hogsmeade before leaving the next day. Right now, they had crowed the room at The Three Broomsticks with laughter, joy, and happy memories. The air was filled with a different type of warmth, one that felt safe and even like a second home. Everyone was talking so loudly within small groups, it was hard to even feel alone. Ginny and Y/n were standing near the fire talking when Fred had grabbed the attention of the room. “Everyone. Everyone. I propose a game. Let’s do a simple muggle game called truth or dare.” Everyone in the group oood as they knew where this was going to lead. They would start with a couple truths before someone breaks the ice with a good dare. Typically, the twins were the ones to propose the dare, but not a lot could compete. “Whoever cannot complete the truth or dare shall lose. Completion allows you to stay,” George had added.

The group sat in a tight makeshift circle that almost took up all the chairs and tables provided. “I’ll start. Harry, who was the last person you snogged?” All eyes were now on the chosen one. Everyone could see his nervousness, but everyone knew he would never want to be the first one out. “Draco.” Certain eyes went wide, but Y/n simply went unphased since she somewhat caught the two making out in between classes. “No questions. Neville, is your crush in this room?” Neville immediately turned red at the question and was the first one to back out. There were small boos mainly coming from the twins. “Since Neville backed out, lets go with the person to his right, Ron. Is your crush in this room?” Ron had the same reaction as Neville but had looked at the ceiling to refrain from giving away his crush. “Yes.” Everyone looked among each other trying to figure out who it could possibly be. “Don’t even try asking who it is. Ginny since you’re bloody enjoying this, did you and Y/n ever snog?” Y/n and Ginny both went wide eyed causing the group to lean a little bit closer to the two. What added more was at how everyone knew how close the two were. Not wanting to entirely answer the question, Ginny backed out the circle causing more booing from the crowd. “What a buzzkill. However, lets just ask the second-best person. Well Y/n, have you snogged my sister?”

Y/n looked at the crowded but had kept glancing towards Hermione. Although it was a simple question, Y/n hadn’t wanted to entirely answer it. You see, Ginny and Y/n did kiss before, but it was an accident. There was a bump, a stumble, then a fall, and then an accident kiss. It didn’t mean anything to the two of them, plus Y/n felt like her heart might’ve been for somewhere. So, Y/n had followed Ginny in the same manner and backed out the circle. “Oh bloody hell! You two have a knack to keep this stupid mystery alive.” They both rolled their eyes at Ron and watched the game continue. What Y/n failed to realize was how affected a certain witch was at their answer.

The game dwindled down until there was three left and unironically it was the golden trio that had made it this far. It was a little surprising for Y/n that Hermione had made it this far. Majority of the time, Hermione would be among the first to decline doing a truth or dare. “I’m sorry Hermione, but I must win. So, I dare you to kiss Ron.” It was something about the dare that made Y/n’s stomach turn. Their mood soured so quickly that they almost felt sick. Slightly tapping Ginny’s back, Y/n whispered in her ear, “Hey, I’m gonna head outside real quick. I don’t feel so good.” Ginny gave a concerned look. She was going to say something back, but Y/n was already out the door with their hand clutching their stomach.

Besides Ginny, Hermione was the only other person that noticed Y/n had left. In her line of sight, she saw past Ron and briefly seen them leave in distress. The deafening chants of “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” didn’t register with her. The only thing running through Hermione’s mind was Y/n. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this dare guys.” Quickly getting out the circle, the chants stopped, and the game continued to declare the winner. Hermione excused herself and made her way outside. She made sure to grab hers and Y/n’s coat. “What an idiot. It’s freezing cold out there.”

Stepping out the tavern, Hermione saw various witches and wizards pass by. Some she knew and some she didn’t. Walking further out, Hermione grew frustrated after not quickly finding her friend. “Where the hell are you?” Walking around further, she saw an outline of a person. Clearly, they had no coat on with how much they were shivering. Hermione walked closer to the figure and realized it was Y/n. “For someone so bloody smart, you are such an idiot.” Hermione accidentally wrapped her own coat around Y/n. She didn’t realize she had instinctively put on her best friend’s coat. Y/n chuckled, but it was cut short due to the freezing weather. Hermione sat down beside them and focused on the view in front of them. There was a small silence between the two as they had people watched. Hermione almost forgot why she even went outside in the first place. She shook her head remembering her thought, “Are you okay? I saw you leave in a hurry.”

Y/n glanced at Hermione, giving her a sheepish smile. “Yeah, I think my stomach was just feeling off. I went outside to get better air.” Hermione looked in their eyes and was quick to call bullshit. “Better air? It’s absolutely freezing out here. Even Merlin themselves wouldn’t want to be outside this weather. So why don’t you tell me the real truth? And if you lie Y/n, I will not hesitate to read your mind.” Y/n gulped at the sound of her threat. They glanced back out into the view in front of them. Taking a deep breath, Y/n nervously replied with, “During your dare, I suddenly felt…sick…I don’t know why but my stomach felt so knotty and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. So, I left.” Y/n glanced back at Hermione and immediately noticed the look on her face. It was intense and serious. Suddenly, something in the air felt different. It was getting hotter and hotter regardless of the snow falling around them.

“Can I kiss you?” Hermione asked in such a small whisper. A lump appeared in Y/n’s throat. They didn’t know what to quite say. They never really thought about what their feelings meant towards Hermione, but then again, everyone practically knew that Y/n and Hermione were in love with each other. Y/n just happened to be the biggest dumbass when it comes to realizing their feelings for others. But here Y/n was. They weren’t answering the question, but felt themselves leaning in. The two closed their eyes and was slowly leaning in. Hermione felt her heart beating so fast that she was certain it would explode, but she didn’t care. She knew that for so long, she wanted this.

However…the moment never arrived. It was cut off from a distant yell, “Y/n!” The two quickly separated and looked at different directions. Suddenly Hermione took it a step further and slightly moved away from Y/n. “There you are – I’ve been looking every where for you!” Ginny jogged up to the duo, noting the awkward tension that emerged. “We have to go back to the castle, I’ll explain on the way.” The red head dragged away her best friend while giving a small nod towards Hermione.

When they were far enough and half way towards the castle, Ginny explained the dire situation. “It’s your parents Y/n, you have to go home. An owl was sent towards the tavern. Here, you’re going to want to read this.” Ginny handed Y/n the letter. After reading it, Y/n’s stomach dropped. “I have to get home.” Ginny sent them a look. “Clearly dumbass. Come on, let’s get your stuff.” It was eerie quiet between the two since the situation had escalated. Y/n’s parents were in trouble and needed Y/n’s help.

Back at Hogsmeade, Hermione didn’t quite know what to feel. She was so close to kissing her crush, but Ginny just had to ruin the moment. The same person she was somewhat certain had Y/n’s heart. Asking the younger lad to kiss her took all the courage Hermione had, and here she was slightly heartbroken that she was gone. So deep in thought, Hermione didn’t notice Ron sit next to her until he said something. “Hey.”

“I need you to explain to Hermione that I’m sorry.” Ginny sighed. She slightly felt guilty for ruining the moment, but time was precious and something Y/n very much needed now. “I know you saw what was going to happen, but I don’t even know what I was doing.” Closing their trunk, Y/n stood up and looked at Ginny. “I do know that I also need to realize what I feel for Hermione. For a lot of my life, I thought I just had a deep love for her. I guess now it might be even deeper.” Ginny walked up and gave Y/n a bone chilling hug.

“I’ll try my best, but she’s definitely going to want to hear it from you.” They separated. Y/n saw the tears forming in Ginny’s eyes. “I’m going to bloody miss you. Please be safe in America and you better send me an owl at least once every two weeks.” Y/n gave Ginny and small salute and crossed their heart.

“I will Ginny. Besides, I need you to deliver all the letters I write for Hermione. I really gotta figure this out.” With one last hug and a small punch to Y/n’s shoulder, the young student left Hogwarts on to the next ride to America. The letter was still clutched in her hand and in it was detailed the long passage of how to save Y/n’s parents from the very people chasing after them. Y/n didn’t quite know how long it was going to take to save their parents, but they could only hope Hermione could understand. “Please wait for me.” Y/n whispered to Hermione in particular, but the younger witch didn’t hear those words. Instead, Hermione heard comforting words from a different red head.

The last thing a home needs is the very people that should live in it. It needs family, friends, and most certainly you and me.

Y/n stood, pacing around the bathroom. They knew time was running out, it was now or never. “Why? Why? Why? Why?” Y/n stood still and pinched the bridge of their nose. Eyes closed, Y/n pondered more and more about all of the things they didn’t do. How could they have let this go on for this long? Why did they let it go on for this long? Deep in thought, Y/n didn’t notice a certain ginger walk into the bathroom. “Y/n, what in the bloody hell are you doing there?  Hermione has been calling you and quite worried sick. If it wasn’t her big day, I would have already knocked you out you big prat.”

Y/n glanced at the second most important person of her life. With a heavy sigh, Y/n slid down the wall. Their knees were propped, hands in their face, and heart in their throat. “I don’t know what to do anymore Ginny.” Ginny pursed her lips and looked back out the door, making sure the coast was clear, before locking the door. She laid her small bouquet of flowers on the sink and sat down near Y/n while trying not to mess up her dress.

“Although I love my idiot brother with all my heart…I somehow love you more.” They sat there together knowing where this was going. “I can’t do it Ginny. I really can’t sit there without feeling like my world is crashing apart right in front of my eyes…The worst thing about it is, I can only blame myself for letting it go this long.”

Ginny rested her head on her best friend’s shoulder. She didn’t quite know what to say anymore. Offering her presence and her ear was the only thing left. “I-I-I spent so long in other countries to try and find my parents while trying to find myself. To try and figure out what I feel for her and by the time I have, she’s already engaged to another…And it’s my stupid fucking fault for ever thinking Hermione would wait. I mean why would she? If some other bloke can already provide her happiness, why should she wait for me? For…us?” Y/n hadn’t realized they were crying until their hands suddenly felt wet. “It’s sad, isn’t it?” Y/n said as they wiped their tears. “What is?”

“Knowing I am my own cause for my sadness. I mean who I am to blame Hermione. The girl was only doing what Aristotle says. Because as he said, we all want to be selfishly happy.” Sighing in defeat, Y/n got up and dusted off their attire. Lending their hand out, Ginny got up and did the same manner. “How much time do I got?”

Ginny looked at the clock in the bathroom. “You have five minutes before she needs to be walking down the isle.” With a small smile, Y/n kissed Ginny forehead and said a small goodbye. The two were only going to part ways for merely a bit. After all, Ginny is Y/n’s second-best friend. But here was Y/n, jogging to the very person that was going to forever have their heart.

Standing outside the bride’s room, Y/n silently prayed and opened the door. There she was in all her glory, the bride to be, the love of her life, the Hermione Granger. However, the brunette herself wasn’t feeling so great. With all the stress of wanting the wedding to be perfect, it wasn’t helping that her very best friend was mysteriously disappearing all the time without a single word. She looked up and sighed once she saw who it was. Picking up her dress, Hermione strutted to Y/n as they closed the door behind them. “Do you have any clue how worried sick I have been?”

“I-” With a single motion of Hermione’s hand, Y/n remained silent. “And anytime I happen to need my best friend to calm me down, they’re nowhere in sight. What is wrong with you? This is my special day Y/n and you haven’t been as great of a friend as you should be. So please, enlighten me where have you been running off to that’s sooo important that you need to leave me?” It was those piercing eyes that made Y/n’s heart melt over and over again. It’s those very same eyes that could practically melt the iceberg that hit the titanic. And it’s those eyes that makes Y/n’s world spin again.

“I…I can’t be your friend Hermione.” Y/n’s voice was so soft and so delicate, Hermione almost questioned if her ears were playing tricks. “What are you bloody saying? You’re not making any sense.” And all the remaining courage Y/n could muster up, they held her hands, looked her in the eyes and said, “When I was gone, I learned of this great philosopher named Kant-” “What does this have to-” Hermione saw the silently begging eyes in front of her and shut her mouth. This was serious and she wasn’t quite sure if she was ready for it.

“He always focused on good principles and always asked about the before of the action. Generally, he believed others should necessarily treat people how they want to be treated. So, a short example is that one should never lie under any circumstances. It does not matter the outcome, but it is simply something you must do. And although I’ve never really believed in absolute, I’ve been asking myself if I should tell the truth. And if people actually deserve to know the truth. So while I thought about it and asked, well what if they deserve the truth, should I still tell them regardless of the outcome? Although I thought I knew a lot of the world, it turns out I only know two things. One is that you deserve to know the absolute truth Hermione and the second is…you are the lie I repeat at night. Because every night I tell I love you, the truth is…I am so in love with you Hermione.”

The world went silent for Hermione. Not even a single pin drop could break the silence for her. Here she was still holding her best friend’s hands as they had just admitted that they were in love with her. “And I’m so sorry Hermione that today of all days was when I told you. I know I had my chances in the letters I sent but I must be honest now because you still deserve the absolute truth. And I’m running out of words to say, because it would be too selfish of me to convince you to run away. So I offer my congratulations Hermione, but I must still run. For then maybe in the blur of life, I can see a small fragment where there could have been you and I.” Y/n kissed Hermione’s forehead as tears may their way down. Letting go of Hermione, Y/n silently walked out the room without turning back because if they had, they would have broken down.

So, while Y/n told Hermione the truth directly. Hermione stood still at the alter with someone who she is most positively certain she loves pondering the very question, “Do I run after the truth?”

[aliwritesfic]

Night Shift Part 3 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Summary: Yours and Frankie’s weekends take very different turns

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: Emotionally abusive relationship, very brief mention of drug use, drinking, T*m D*vis makes an appearance

Part 1 Part 4

Frankie slept better that week than he had in months. Every night was long, uninterrupted, mercifully dreamless sleep. The diner had done exactly what he had hoped. When he awoke that Saturday afternoon, he felt better than he had in ages. He hummed while he rummaged through the refrigerator, grabbing out some leftover padthai and throwing it in the microwave.

Each night that week, a routine between you and him had formed. You’d work, barely exchanging words until the dinner rush was completed, then you’d make him a coffee and he’d make you something to eat. You’d requested something different each night, and each night you’d spoken to him a little more. Some nights you were in a better mood than others, but he quickly realised it wasn’t personal against him.

He found he was a little disappointed when he woke up that afternoon and remembered that it was his day off. If he was being honest with himself, he’d grown to enjoy your company. Something about you intrigued him, made him want to get to know you more.

Frankie spent getting stuff together for poker night with the boys. It was his turn to host, so all he had to do was make sure that his dining room table was clear and his portable speaker was charged. 

While he got ready, his mind kept wandering back to you.

He thought of the way you had a different smile for certain customers. The truly genuine one was reserved for only a select few of your favourites. He felt himself hoping that one day you’d give him one of those smiles, instead of the one that didn’t really reach your eyes and disappeared quickly. 

He thought of how when the diner was quiet, you’d lean against the counter and sip your coffee, your gaze firmly out the window. 

He thought of how when your shift ended and you checked your phone, your face would change for just a fraction of a second before you’d say goodbye and rush out the door. 

Jesus fucking Christ, he thought, do I have a crush?

Frankie hadn’t had a crush since high school, when he had finally had the guts to ask out Portia Inglewood. That relationship had lasted until he left the military, and brought all the emotional baggage with him.

A loud banging on the door knocked him out of his thoughts. 

“Cat!” Benny didn’t wait for Frankie to open the door. “We’re here, and we have beer!”

“You know where it goes,” Frankie called back. 

Santi grinned at his best friend and handed him a beer. “How’s the new job?”

“It’s exactly what I need right now,” Frankie told him. Santi nodded in understanding. They all had their own ways of dealing with what they carried. “Plus, the extra cash doesn’t hurt.”

Frankie didn’t want money - he had plenty from when he’d do private jobs with Santi. If he ever became desperate, he knew he could just join Santi on his next job. 

“Well, extra cash or not, I’ll always be the hottest person you’ve ever worked with,” Santi winked, making Frankie roll his eyes.

“Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better, man.” Frankie laughed. 

The night progressed in a haze of pizza and beer and poker. Will lost money to Tom, and Tom promptly lost it all to Benny. Santi told the group about the new girl he was seeing, some French expat over stateside for a few months. Benny double checked everyone was coming to the fight next weekend. Tom revealed that he and the girls were moving to Ohio to be closer to Molly’s parents. The boys promptly began planning a going away party, which would basically just be another poker night but with more beer and possibly a cake.

Any worries Frankie held seemed to melt away on nights like these. At one point, he briefly wondered what you were doing and if you were thinking of him too. Yep. Definitely a crush.

~*~

You didn’t like Kurt’s friends. Unfortunately, you were stuck spending your Saturday night with them crowded in your apartment, loud and disrespectful as hell. It didn’t matter to them that you’d asked time and time again could they please go outside to smoke, could they please put their beer bottles in the recycling bin, could they please not use your nice plates to do coke on. 

If your grandfather could have seen you now, he would’ve called you a push-over. You hated that you had become this person - afraid to stick up for yourself in your own home. Hell, you didn’t even know at what point you’d become this person. It just seemed to happen over the five years you’d been dating Kurt.

You had lost yourself in trying to be what he wanted.

With a sigh, you sealed yourself away in the bedroom with a bag of Doritos and your phone, wishing you could call your grandfather. You still had his number in your phone. Occasionally, you’d look at it, the numbers seared into your brain. 

Instead of calling the now disconnected number, you settled for messaging Sara. She was one of your only remaining friends from high school, and knew as much about your feelings as you were willing to let on. The thing was, you knew what she would say if you told her how you felt every single day. How lost, how hopeless you felt. She’d tell you to leave, forget Kurt and all the years with him, but to you it wasn’t that simple. 

Part of you still loved him, despite everything, and that part remained hopeful that you and Kurt could fix the fractures in your relationship. Plus, a voice in the back of your head told you he was right when he said he was the only one who could ever love you. 

Being alone, unloved, was one of your deepest fears.

This was one of the nights you actually missed being at the diner. You missed the lemon scented countertops, the radio that seemed to be permanently set on the oldies station, hell, you even missed Frankie and his amazing food. He’d been working with you less than a week but he had already wedged himself into your stomach. But, it was just two more nights until you were back there. It struck you that this was the opposite of how most people thought. No one you knew actually wished to go back to work. 

It was almost dawn when you were woken out of your half sleep by Kurt stumbling into the room. 

“Baby,” he slurred, crawling into bed beside you. “Baby, I love you.”

“I love you too,” you mumbled, moving over so he could fit in the bed easier. He reeked of sweat and booze. 

“I’m sorry,” he planted a sloppy kiss on your neck. “I really try to be good.”

“I know,” you ran your fingers over his head. He liked his hair cropped short, in an almost military like style. “I try too.”

“Can we go back to how we were?” Kurt continued kissing you, his hands moving drunkenly over your body. You bit back a sigh, knowing where this was heading.

You decided it would be easier to let him do what he needed, despite how badly you wanted to sleep. The only saving grace was you knew Kurt would only last a couple of minutes before it would be over. 

~*~

“So, what’s the new guy like?” Manny asked. You were seated outside, at one of his favourite cafes. The sun shone down warmly on you both, brightening your mood.

“I like him, I think,” you said. “He’s nice, quiet.”

“And pretty cute, right?” Manny wriggled his eyebrows. 

“I hadn’t noticed,” you lied. Of course you had noticed. It was impossible not to notice. 

“Don’t feed me bullshit, I can tell when you’re lying.”

“Ugh, fine. He’s good looking. But that doesn’t mean anything.”

“That’s the thing lover, it only means something if you want it to.” Manny took a conspiratorial sip of his drink. “And I didn’t get a gay vibe from him.”

“Oh good, because the only thing holding me back from jumping his bones in the kitchen is that I didn’t know his sexual preference.” You rolled your eyes, deciding to quickly change the subject. “Anyway, how’s the new job?”

“I’m loving it!” Manny lit up. “Everyone says teenagers are the worst group to teach, but it’s like they forget middle school exists.”

You smiled at Manny’s happiness. It thrilled you to see someone you considered your best friend so happy. If anyone deserves the whole world, you thought, it’s him. But he wasn’t going to let you change the subject that easily.

“You know, maybe you could invite Frankie to one of our lunches,” Manny said slyly. “It could be a night crew thing.”

“That would mean inviting the weekenders,” you reminded him. Manny held a grudge against the weekend crew, but you could never figure out why.

“No, weeknight crew only. Come on, lover, it could be fun! Plus, I want to get to know my replacement a bit better. Make sure I’m not handing the spatula to someone I don’t approve of.” Manny pouted and switched on his puppy dog eyes.

“Ugh, fine, I’ll ask,” you conceded, “but don’t be surprised if he says no. The man probably has a life.”

“It can’t hurt to ask though, and I will bother you about it until you have an answer.”

“What are you planning?” You knew that look all too well.

“Just on making a new friend,” Manny said innocently. “Lover, you can never have enough friends.”

At that moment your phone buzzed with a text from Kurt.

Where r u?????

You grimaced and sent a quick reply, hoping it wouldn’t lead to what it usually did.

At lunch with Manny from work. I’ll be home in a couple hours, do you want anything?

“Why don’t you just break up with him?” Manny asked, watching you carefully.

Is he the gay 1?

Yes, you met him and his husband last year.

“It’s complicated,” you said. You didn’t have anywhere to go. You were terrified of being alone. Part of you still felt like you could salvage what you had. The one and only time you had tried to break up with him, he had threatened to kill himself if you left. 

“You deserve better than that,” Manny said. You remained silent, not sure if he was right. “You’ve been unhappy for ages now.”

“I’m happy!” You protested.

“No you aren’t. Don’t fucking lie to me. You’re miserable with that douche bag, even James agrees.”

“I haven’t seen James in months! How the hell would he know!” You were getting defensive, but you still managed to keep your voice lowered. 

“Lover, I talk that man's ear off every chance I get. Because I love him. Because he likes to hear me talk about my day and the people important to me.”

“I’m important to you?”

Manny rolled his eyes and threw his napkin at you. “Of course you are, you’re a sister to me. Stop trying to change the subject.”

“What subject!” You scoffed.

“The subject of you for some reason wanting to stay in a relationship with a man who makes you miserable,” Manny’s voice softened and he gently held one of your hands. The gesture almost made you tear up with its gentleness. You merely shrugged.

“Like I said, it’s complicated.”

Manny nodded. “Just please think about it, for real. I couldn’t sleep at night if I never said anything to you about it.”

The walk home was slow, you took your time to sort out your scrambling thoughts. Manny had offered to drive you, but it was a nice day, and you wanted to enjoy the sunshine. You pushed the issue of Kurt to the side, knowing either way the outcome would be the same unless you magically grew a spine and a few extra zeros in your bank account.

Instead, you thought about Frankie and how best to ask him to Sunday lunch. Honestly, if there was going to be a night shift tradition, it just felt downright rude to not at least extend an invite. And if Frankie said yes, well, that was even better. It was like Manny said - an opportunity to make a new friend. Just a friend.

So why did your stomach flip at the thought?

Tagging @hnt-escape if you’d also like to be tagged just let me know <3