#grow a pair and face fucking reality you two faced insecure bitch

[pawjamas]

debating on going no contact with my mom after this. i’m so fucking done.

[savagecuhnt]

myriadxofxmuses​:

“Rose?” he asked still half asleep and groggy from the lingering buzz and high. “What the fuck are you talking about? Was who worth it?” he asked through a yawn and a stretch.

His mind was still trying to catch up with her ranting. Frustration was slowly crawling through his veins, confused as to why she was so upset. He’d been out with the guys when she showed up. While Rose had been more handsy last night, he’d been almost positive she was tripping balls as much as he was and just went with it.

“….Ringing any bells?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Calm down,” he unsuccessfully tried pacifying her.

She continued on, his need for her to slow down and explain herself ignored. He could hear her quiet cries through her words as she roared at him through the phone. “Worthless?! Rose, what the fuck are you – It’s not a fucking joke! Rose, come on. Look for you?! Why are you being such a bitch right now? Why would I need – KILL ME?!? WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO?!” he roared back to deaf ears. He scoffed at her next insult. “You’re the fucking monster. Taking your pmsing insecure bullshit out on me. I didn’t fucking do anything!”

“FUCK!” he growled, angrily throwing his phone to the ground when the line went dead.

   The life she lived before Ethan seemed so foreign to her now. What was she to do? She let her feet lead her into the night. Down sidewalks, down alleys, it seemed like forever when she finally reached a run down gas station. There was no hunger, no thirst, just an ungodly feeling of her heart breaking in her chest. She felt alone, felt the cold of the void reminding her of it’s presence. The one thing that would never leave her. Never hurt her. The pain would always be there. She made her way to the side of the station, taking a moment to clear hear head and wash her face free of the tears in what she assumed was the women’s restroom. A dingy little room with a flickering fluorescent light. Names and numbers were scrolled across every surface. Shit and piss, and god knew what else. She sighs, looking at her own reflection in the cracked mirror. “What did you expect to happen Rosie Posie? Did you think he was going to suddenly change, settle down? Did you really expect a happy ending? You?...people like you don’t get happy endings. You should’ve known.”

  she splashes water on her face and ventures to the lobby. It was time for her to grow up and put her big girl pants back on. There was no happy ending, no dream life. This was her reality. Survival. She walks in, ignoring the bell that rings over the door. She slips down an aisle and begins to scope out location of cameras. There seemed to only be one, a dinosaur behind the counter pointed down at the counter. Easy. She grabs a few essentials and a pair of sunglasses, slipping them on before she greets the attendee. “That all sweet cheeks?” a rotted smile, glossed eyes. Typical junkie. “actually, no. That’s not all.” she leans over the counter, batting her thick lashes up at the male. He in return leans in closer, eyeing her cleavage as he does. “I’m gonna need everything in the register, your stash and the keys to that shit truck parked outside.” 

  she leaves the gas station as it goes up in flames, blood splattered across her face and torso. She trembles with adrenaline, allowing the rage to drive her as she hops into the truck. She had enough cash to get her by for a day or two, find a cheap motel. It wouldn’t take her long to get back into her old routine. Finding jobs. She had connections. She was sure they’d be excited to hear from her. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.” she begins to drive, her eyes gazing upon the rearview mirror. She fought past the tears, ignoring the overwhelming pain that was clawing at the emptiness in her chest. It would take time, but she would get over it.

---------------Two years---------------

  she swallows hard at the location she’s been sent to. A sense of dread washing over her. She did her best in the past couple of years to stay clear of this area, promising herself that she would never return and risk a run in with the man that broke her heart. She looks over her instructions and turns the screen of her phone off before slipping it into her back pocket. It would be a long week, she almost wonders if Ethan decided to stay in his hometown, or if he found a new stomping ground. She pushes the image of him away and continues on with her business. She needed a few things for her Airbnb. Essentials. She’s throwing in boxes of trash bags, duct tape and zipties when a familiar voice catches her attention. Shit.

   she jumps into character and smiles. “Oh my god, Susie.” she’s reminded of the pain once again, shaking her head from the emotions as she laughs, “yeah. It’s been like a whole two years or so.” nose scrunches, “I’ve been great actually. Been working a lot. Traveling. uh--” she looks down in her cart, making an attempt at a story for why she was here just in case she were to ask. “h-how are you? how’s the gang?” there’s a part of her that wants to ask about Ethan, but she decides not to. She’s sure he’ll be brought at at some point without her prying.”

@myriadxofxmuses

Their relationship had become almost routine at this point. Spending most of their days with one another, from waking up to falling asleep in each others arms. It was a strange feeling to be this comfortable with someone, knowing everything about one another down to their very deepest darkest secrets. It made things easier when their demons danced well with one another’s. Their cravings and needs very much the same. They bonded in blood and torture, loved in blood lust and murder.

It wasn’t odd for Ethan to go out with “The boys.” Needing to keep up with appearances and spending some sort of time away from her, nothing she couldn’t handle. Usually it was easy for her to keep herself busy, making her rounds around the city, having a little fun by herself. However she had no need tonight, spending her alone time in the home they shared. She laid in bed, tossing and turning as she tried to busy herself with television and social media. She huffed and puffed, growing impatient as eyes continued to check the time. Ethan was know to arrive home late, but never this late. Usually he’d send her some sort of message letting her know what he was up to. “Alright, fuck me right?” She mutters to herself as she refreshes her Home Screen.

Suddenly a notification popped up, a message in her Dms on an app she rarely used. “Who’s this?” She hums as she investigates the profile. A familiar face. “What the fuck do you want?” She growls. She recognizes the woman, a cousin to one of Ethan’s close friends. A jealous bitch who made it obvious just how bad she wanted her other half. “Bite me.” She scoffs as she returns back to the dm. With a simple click, she’s suddenly filled with rage. A picture of Ethan in bed with this cunt. Both naked. She can feel herself trembling, the need to scream out. “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me right now!?”

She calls Ethan’s phone. Once. Twice. Ten times. All sent to voicemail. She stomps around their home. Hands angrily reaching for things to throw and break in a rage. How dare he betray her like this? With some nobody! Was he drunk? On drugs? It didn’t matter, he had BETRAYED HER. She didn’t want to stay here. She wanted to hunt him down and make him pay for the pain she felt, however she couldn’t decide if she stayed until he arrived home or if she should just pack up and leave. What would cause him the most pain? Physical or emotional? “Pick up your phone FUCK BOY!” She calls one last time. The deciding factor.

[quiet-kunoichi]

[ @suck-my-tomato | Halloween Party Oneshot | verse; highschool ]

It was their senior year at last, and Kimiko was not about to let it go to waste. The rest of her high school years had been spent either too insecure to show a little skin, or not single enough to get away with it without some disapproving stares. The tail end of junior year, along with the summer that followed, was spent in a near-lifeless haze: she’d become well accustomed to depressive dissociation and avoidance to the point of self-destructive isolation. Meanwhile, Sasuke likely had the time of his life as a bachelor in the paradise of their recent split: that is, until his chronically-ill brother took a lethal turn for the worse.  Upon hearing about Itachi’s sudden death, Kimiko had lassoed herself back into Sasuke’s orbit  — Invited herself inside ( she never returned the key to his apartment ), ensured that he was taking care of himself in lieu of his recent loss. Additionally, it felt like a loss of her own, too. She’d known Itachi as long as she had known Sasuke, for obvious reasons. As odd as it sounded once her feelings became obviously romantic for the younger Uchiha, Itachi felt like.. a big brother in-law. After all, he bailed her out of her holding cell after she’d caught Sasuke cheating with that bimbo redhead from chemistry. It was a wonder why he kept the kind of company that he did; the run-ins she’d endured over the last few months since her split with Sasuke had soured her to the whole ‘Akatsuki’ gang. Just a bunch of sleazy womanizers.  It’d been quite a few months since that had occured, and Kimiko and Sasuke were growing steadily more attached to one another, once again. Not nearly close to the way they were, before the letters ( still unknown to Sasuke ) and his decision to plant the seed of everlasting insecurity within her by betraying her trust for the opportunity to mesh face with someone new. For a short while before Itachi’s death, Kimi had arrived to parties solely to keep the recently hotheaded Uchiha in line. She was his designated stormbreaker, and was expected to deliver him home safely each night that he took things a bit too far. Those incidents didn’t come without their rewards, such as the few instances in which he’d cling to her in his drunken and drug-addled stupor, apologize profusely and confess his everlasting love.. Just to slip away into sleep seconds afterwards.  Admittedly, Kimiko would entertain the heartache of such a prentendedly wholehearted and pure moment before ultimately lapsing to silent tears and peeling herself from his side to take her quiet leave from his shared home. More than a few times, Itachi and the Tamashi would share a quiet and lingering look across the front room. Now that he’s departed, Kimiko often wishes she would have sat next to him and allow herself a single shred of comfort from the situation she’d found herself in. His stare had always been a little somber: Like he knew all of the things that she was shoving beneath the surface. Was this going to be her lingering reality? Harboring this blood-stained secret, playing guardian angel to a haphazard boy whom broke her heart but didn’t manage to drown her love? Perhaps she should’ve asked the wise Uchiha Itachi, before it became too late. Even if she grew back what was left of her mauled heart to learn how to forgive him, Kimiko knew now that a life of romance and love was never going to be the same, for her. Not with old memories dredged back up and spot-lit like fresh wounds, vague yet promising threats from her imprisoned and somehow still imposing father appearing two more times since that first letter made it to her porch step. Sasuke had changed faces and become someone new overnight; he squandered all of his previous promises of her being his one and only  — and it elicited a violent response that her father had only just forewarned her of inheriting. Perhaps this was just her destiny, after all.  Tonight would be different, in a sense: Kimiko was attending this senior year halloween party solely for herself. She wasn’t trailing in on Sasuke’s colonged scent, nor was she couped up at home until the siren call came and beckoned her to act as ‘Sasuke Uchiha clean-up crew’. She was here to cook up some fun of her own, solely for herself.. Which is precisely what she had told herself at the last party she attended three weeks ago for ‘Homecoming.’ That night tumbled away into a mess of limbs beneath trashed bedsheets: Sasuke and Kimiko had once again found the most intimate form of comfort in one another’s arms, for the first time in.. 8 months. Tonight would be different. Or maybe it wouldn’t. Did she actually just put all of this effort into her costume for the hopes that it would catch his attention above any other girl there? Was she hoping for a similar end to this mixed-bag night as the last party lured them to?  Perhaps. It was mostly for herself, though. Yes, the tight black latex zippered corset, a pair of short spandex that clung to her hips and ass like it was life or death, the heeled boots that cut off just below her knee and the tights that squeezed her curved thighs just at their most voluptuous circumference.. The feathered black wings attached to her back and the headband horns adorning her crown .. All the way down to her perfected makeup, the dark tinge to her lips and the dash of gloss at the very center.. It was all for her. Not to grab the attention of anyone who bothered looking her way, and certainly not to make his jaw drop. Once again, her phone buzzes from its place stashed between her breasts. With a sigh that exhales the last puff of her menthol cigarette, ( thank you, Shikamaru ) Kimi plucks the it from her corset and unlocks the device. A strange twist of disappointment curls her stomach when the texts popping up were just from the girls. Perhaps it was a tad childish to wish upon a ball of gas in the sky that Sasuke would reach out to her: provide some sort of hint that he was interested in seeing her tonight — that he wasn’t already wrapped up in some other nameless skank.  Instead, it was just Ino and Sakura, buzzing at her ear like flies and wanting to know ‘ Where the hell ’ she was. They made plans to pick her up, but Kimi had different plans for herself. Already outside the party house, the fallen angel runs out the cherry of her pregame cigarette against the side of a white Prius. It belonged to one specific redhead from junior year chemistry class. If she knew what was good for her, that bitch would keep a healthy distance from the Uchiha, and a restraining-order distance from the Tamashi herself. The rest of her flask is guzzled with little more than a post-swallow wince: the fire of honey whiskey lit her back to life. She’d shared swigs with the passenger seat of Ms. White Prius — poor decision to leave the windows open a crack. Now that her confidence was rightly bolstered by liquid courage and her anxious insecurities settled with those two cigarettes, Kimiko pulls herself off the car. She throws a single backward kick of her heel and dents the door, donning a wicked smirk as she heads up the walkway and pushes inside. The damn wings of a fallen angel knock against the doorway — but they’ll provide a healthy bubble of distance from everyone else around her as the crowd parts around her. If she learned anything from the parties she’d attended in the last year — it was to make a b-line from the front ( or back ) door straight to the booze selection.

 Although she was already feeling that hot buzz of spirits in her blood, Kimiko needed to secure a drink to clutch for the rest of the night. Any time something stupid was said, any time something unforgivable was done, she would take a drink. And if Sasuke was seen with another girl, after what happened between them at the Homecoming party three weeks ago, and how often she’s been at his apartment and patiently helping him sort through his emotions, after everything that happened between them.. Well, she’d guzzle the whole cup and then someone else’s, too. Maybe crack a skull, pluck a tooth off of the floor for keepsake..  Ino and Sakura have flocked to her side, bubbling with astonished compliments as well as soured remarks on the Tamashi’s disappearance. The familiar crimson of slow boiling rage starts to fade away from the corners of her vision. She’s standing at the kitchen counter, red plastic cup empty and surveying the options. “ Holy wow, Kimi! You look gorgeous. ” Sakura, the little angel of their trio, chimes in at her left. On her right shoulder, Ino the devil shares her opinion. “ Gorgeous? Fuck that. Kimiko looks drop dead sexy. This is definitely an ex-revenge costume. ” Silent as ever ( at least, as she’d become over the last year ) the fallen angel reaches for the rum, rolling her thumb over the cap and flicking it across the marble counter.  It glugs liquid fire into her empty cup while Sakura wraps around her arm and tucks her head against Kimi’s shoulder ( a good sign that she was inebriated, herself ). “ Ex-revenge costume? How’s she supposed to get revenge from an outfit? ” The naive pinkette asks. Ino scoffs, “ Are you kidding me? Do you know how many guys have cracked their necks just to gawk at her? I counted six, just on her trip from the front door to the kitchen. ” Kimiko adds a splash of tequila into the mix, as well as the rest of someone’s open redbull can. Then comes the mixer: some sort of grapefruit soda, and a lime. Like, a whole half. She likes the bite.  “ And other guys looking at her is supposed to be.. revengeful? ” Sakura questions after slipping from Kimiko’s arm, their polar opposite wings knocking against one another in her clumsy step to shoot a questioning look to their blonde-haired and red-clad she-devil. A hand comes up to Ino’s forehead as she sighs. “ Oh my god, I knew you had too much of my Prosecco. ” Sakura makes to protest, and Kimiko ( who has yet to acknowledge them or make an expression of either distaste or amusement ) takes a tasting swig of her drink. It wasn’t bad, but maybe it needs more grapefruit soda. “ The more attention she gets from other guys, the more jealous Sasuke is gonna get. She gives him a taste of what he’s missing out on. ” Ino explains.  Sakura pretends to understand, but she’s never been the type for manipulative revenge schemes. Her payback is served with a crack of her knuckles. Meanwhile, Kimiko uses a healthy balance of the two methods of torture. Even still, as both girls bicker over whether it was a good idea to lure that side out of Sasuke ( especially in lieu of his recent loss ) or to move on like he didn’t exist, Kimiko scanned the crowd for his unforgettable features. They had no idea of what happened between the two at that last party; they didn’t know about his once thorny exterior quickly becoming dependent on her emotional support through this difficult time, nor how she honestly felt concerned and protective over him despite still trying to figure out how to forgive him ( or if she even had the kindness left in her to accomplish such a feat ). At last, they’d found each other through the writhing mass of bodies mingling, dancing, flirting, and drinking in a kaleidoscope of lights. Yellow high-beams meet swimming pools of obsidian over the rim of her cup. The whole world deafens and stills around them: despite the five yards of distance that separated the two, Kimiko swore she could hear his shaky exhale as he drinks in her visage — wonders briefly if he could somehow hear the tripping thrum of her heartbeat as her stare flickers over his own devilishly desirable costume. Pulling her lips from her drink, the fallen vixen swipes bubblegum tongue quickly over her lip and offers a little wink across the room ( unseen from her female counterparts ). Let’s hope this doesn’t backfire.

[rogue-barnes-16]

SECRETS (part IV/?)

Summary: Detectives James Barnes and Y/n Y/l/n never really got along, despite being partners for seven months. You could say they hated each other, however, when James’ past shows up threatening to break him all over again, the truth about their feelings comes to the surface.

Pairing: cop!Bucky Barnes x cop!Reader

Genre: angst-ish

Tags:

Secrets: @just-add-butter

Permanent taglist: @notexactlythatgirl @thisismysecrethappyplace @sofreakinmanyfandoms @pizzarollpatrol @bubblycypress87 @sinviix @loislp @lovenaturefirst @dyanna-corona @2ptonpt @goodnightmode @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @mannls @cutie1365 @catch22inareddress @mybooradley @sebastianisasnack @butifulsoul125

Warnings: psychological and slightly physical abuse, language, angst (probably some typos, since I wrote this in 2 hours)

A/N: I'm alive (surprisingly) yayy! Please, remember to reblog the fics, because you're making me a huge favor if you do. Enjoy this part of Secret (which, like I predicted, it's not the last one) <3

Rogue-barnes-16 masterlist (you'll find the rest of the parts here)

BUCKY'S P. O. V.

Since I had woken up earlier due to a nightmare, I went to the living room carrying some files to keep working on the case until Y/n woke up.

The past few days had been really good for the both of us. I would even dare to say that the hate had turned into some kind of friendship.

Okay, maybe it was more than friendship when it came to my feelings, but that wasn't anything new. Since day one I had felt something that drew me to her, however, I had never let those feelings grow any further for several reasons. During these days, though, Y/n somehow helped me to loosen up a little, which was enough for me to stop fighting what I felt.

The fact that, somehow, she was making me feel safer also helped me to be more confident about my feelings.

While I started to display the files, the extra time I had recently been spending with Y/n came to my thoughts, and with it, the question I had been asking myself for the past two days.

Did she liked me the way I liked her?

Sometimes —most of the times— our interactions would seem friendship-like, with, of course, our considerable amount of teasing.

But other times, the times we were all alone in her apartment, when we would stay up until late hours of the night, the way she acted towards me, the way she talked to me... it was almost as if she wanted something more than a friendship between us.

It was probably just my imagination, playing wicked games on me. Sigh. Even if it's true, I thought, what would you do? You can't do anything, I reminded myself. You're broken.

You're not ready.

You're not good enough.

She deserves better than-

A few angry knocks on the door made me come back to reality, a bit more tired, and a bit more hurt.

I took a couple of deep breaths to regain my composure again. It was amazing how a couple of thoughts crossing my mind could trigger all the insecurities Y/n had been helping me to overcome.

Another few knocks, this time stronger and quicker. "I'm coming" I announced, being careful not too be too loud, since Y/n was still asleep. I grabbed the knob to open the door, not even think about how odd was that someone came to visit at 5:40 am. "Wait a sec..."

Before I could even freeze due to the panic, Dot's hand slapped my face. After all this time keeping up with her, after all the abuse, retreating myself to a safer position was an action I did by inertia.

The thought of shutting the door for her not to enter hadn't even crossed my mind before I was backing out from her reach.

"how dare you?" she questioned, poison dripping from each one of her words. "you can't even wait until we're divorced, right?! First the damn lawsuit, then you cheat on me?!"

"H-how- why- what are-" words came out as a stuttering whisper since I wasn't able to form a single sentence "y-you can't be here"

"why? Are you gonna call the cops, baby?" I frowned and stepped back when she stalked towards me. "You're a cop, honey, if you didn't arrest me it's because no one is going to arrest me."

"what the-" I shut my mouth when she gave me a dead glare. "how did you get here? Who- you have to leave. Now."

"she's still here, isn't she?" Dot huffed, "that bitch is gonna get it" when she attempted to make her way to Y/n's bedroom, I didn't think twice before gripping her arm and tugging her back.

Dot gasped, probably not expecting the amount of strength I had just used to stop her. "don't get her into this"

"so it's true? You're cheating on me with that fucking. dumb. petty. bitch?" with each word, she pushed me back until my knees hit the edge of the couch and there was no way left, but to sit down.

"she's none of that." I managed to say, after gathering all the courage I was capable of when it came to the woman in front of me.

"And now you defend her?" she scoffed, letting out a dry laugh that sent shivers down my spine. "You're so desperate for some kind of affection, baby. It's pathetic" I sat there, trying to digest those words that seemed so real to me. "You're so damn stupid. She's probably just using you- I mean, have you looked at yourself?" she started to pace. "you really don't know what you did by dumping me, love. No one is going to love you. I gave you everything, goddammit! I gave you fucking everything!"

"Stop" I muttered, leaning over myself to rest my face over my palms "Stop it"

"after all I did to you, you're dumping me for some random slut. For a quick fuck" another dry laugh. "YOU'RE SOMEONE BECAUSE I DECIDED TO GIVE YOU THAT PRIVILEGE!"

"I'm gonna say it once" I thought I had imagined it, so I didn't look up the first time Y/n spoke, more like growled. "I'm not even gonna ask how did you get here. Just get the fuck out of my damn house"

"And the slut's here" it was then that I lifted my gaze to stare at Y/n, who looked like we had shaken her awake —we probably did—. "I'm leaving when I finish talking with-" In a swift movement, Y/n had her gun aimed at Dot. "woah woah woah- I can sue you for this" the latter stated, visibly nervous. "are you gonna fucking shoot me?"

"get out" when Y/n spoke again, I tensed. "before I solve this problem with a bullet in your skull"

Dot hesitated for a moment before speaking again, using with Y/n the same tone she used to use with me. "You're not gonna shoot, you fucking crazy bitch"

The problem was that it wasn't me.

It was Y/n. A really, really mad Y/n.

Dot gasped when Y/n, without breaking eye contact with her, deflected her gun to the side and shot.

"Did I fuckin' stutter?" Y/n asked, calmed and collected. "Leave. Now"

After a few seconds that seemed a thousand years to me, Dot gathered her bag and jacket before turning to me. "we're not finished yet"

All from sudden, Y/n was in front of me, grabbing Dot's arm and dragging her away "yeah you are"

READER'S P. O. V.

"I don't want to see you near him ever again" I hissed, dragging the woman to the front door.

"what are you gonna do if I do, detective?" She taunted.

"let's say" I opened the door and, instead of leaving her in the landing, I kept dragging her downstairs "I don't mind going to jail if I know you're gone for good" before she could speak, I threw her to the lobby and went back upstairs.

"how the fuck did she get my direction?" I asked rhetorically, entering into my apartment, where I had left Bucky. "She's fuckin' nuts" when he didn't answer anything, I turned around to check on him, just to see his eyes red. "Hey..."

"I'm sorry"

"what- no!" I wouldn't have realized I had yelled if not for Bucky’s flinch. "this isn't your fault, don't be sorry, okay?"

"I just-" his voice faded, and instead, he took a deep, shaky breath. "I don't know what- I mean- she w- I-I'm sorry"

I made my way to Bucky, careful not to startle him, and I crouched in front of him. I took a moment to check on him before slowly placing one of my hands over his. "this is what we're gonna do" I whispered, as tender as possible. "you come back to bed and try to rest. I'll call sick at work for you."

That made his gaze shoot up at me, panic written all over his face. "nonononono don't-"

"Listen, you gotta rest," I replied, stopping him before he could get up. "and you gotta calm down."

"don't Y/n for fucks sake don't leave me here" he tried to get up again. I could practically hear his heart stammering against his chest. "what if she comes back?"

"she's no-"

"you don't know that!"

The terror in his voice broke me more than I expected it to do it. "Okay... Okay, what about this" I got up, not letting go of his hand. "we both go back to sleep. I'll call Steve- Steve knows, doesn't he?" Bucky nodded. "Okay, I'll call Steve and I'll tell him we'll be late to work because you need to rest"

After a second, Bucky nodded again and followed me to the bedroom. "don't leave without me, 'kay?"

"I won't, I promise" I replied, squeezing his hand.

[artificialqueens]

Convenient Denial Ch. 1 (Biadore) - Valencia

AN: FINALLY IT ME, THE BIADORE HOLIDAY FIC <3 I’m sorry it’s taken so long, it’s my first time writing fanfic so please let me know how I’m doing - I’d love to get any feedback/constructive criticism :)) The next two chapters are going to be super smutty with a sprinkling of angst/fluff and I think it’ll probably be around 4-5 chapters in total (I might write a pure fluff epilogue as well to finish it off depending on if you guys like it)

Thanks heaps for reading, love Valencia x

Blurb: Roy is convinced the only reason why he misses Danny so much is because they’re such good friends - nothing more, nothing less. Danny is supposedly well over the silly crush he used to have on Roy back in Season 6. As they go on holiday together, feelings surface that neither quite know how to deal with.

Chapter 1

The tensely corded muscles in Roy’s neck and his constant stress headaches are a blaring sign that he needs a holiday. He always a bit on edge lately, but surprisingly he’s been in a good mood the last couple of days –since Adore’s father’s day post. Danny always knows how to make him smile, and the annual father’s day post dedicated to him never fails to do so. Roy can’t quite pinpoint why, but he’s missing Danny more than usual especially after seeing his latest photos online. Not for the first time, he scrolls through Adore’s instagram feed, trying to ignore the way his eyes lingers on the more racy pics. A stupid grin refuses to leave his face as he clicks on Adore’s post to him. He reads the cute caption over twice before letting himself look at their photo. His heart tugs as he sees adorably rumpled Danny. They both look so happy, so content and comfortable in each other’s company. He misses the days during and after Season 6 when it seemed like his entire world was Adore and Courtney. Now all the time they get together is a group dinner every couple of months if they’re lucky. And barely any time with Danny.

Danny’s the one person he misses the most when he’s on the road. He knows exactly when to make him laugh, and when to stay quiet - even though he never actually does, and he’s a pro at reading him right back whenever Roy dishes it out. No one knows Roy Haylock, or Bianca Del Rio as well as Danny does, and that’s why they’re the closest of friends. He just wishes sometimes they could be like normal best friends, be able to walk over to each other’s houses whenever they feel like it and spend lazy Sundays watching trash reality shows, gossiping about their co-workers and painting their nails. He can’t remember the last time they saw each other for more than a couple days.  

Feeling unreasonably sorry for himself, he pushes all thoughts of Danny away. He’s lucky to be given this opportunity to travel the world, he firmly reminds himself, and he’s worked so hard to get to where he is now. But even Roy can tell he’s overworked and stressed, especially judging by the fact that he’s getting all soppy over something as small as missing his friend. He definitely needs a fucking holiday. The thought of a holiday has plagued his mind the last year or so but he’s never let himself commit to going. He dislikes being on a plane a second longer than needed but if he stays at home he knows he’ll end up working again, doing taxes or some other mundane task. Roy decides he has to go relax and unwind, have some drinks and maybe a massage or two - hopefully that’ll work all this tension out of his system.

He trawls the internet, researching destinations and browsing through idyllic beachfront resort photos. For some reason he doesn’t really feel that excited. After some thought he realises he can’t just sit alone in his own company for a week, he’ll be bored out of his mind. But on the other hand, he generally prefers his own company over others. Except for… No.. he can’t take Danny, can he? He mentally checks Adore’s schedule; refusing to admit to himself that it’s kinda stalkerish that he knows her entire upcoming month off by heart. He tells himself that he’s always made an effort to keep tabs on her career only because he’s incredibly proud of her success but it goes deeper than Roy likes to acknowledge - he mainly just likes to know where Danny is, especially when he’s not home. Adore isn’t touring at the moment but she’s fully booked around the States. What if he asks and Danny doesn’t think spending time together is important enough to miss his prior work commitments? Danny’s biggest pet peeve is being called lazy based on his punk drag and throws himself into his work to prove everyone wrong. Roy can’t do it, he’s so nervous even the thought of that conversation makes his stomach lurch. He knows he isn’t going to be able to face the rejection that may follow. With the idea of a holiday dismissed yet again, he pours himself a bitterly strong drink and slowly starts painting his eyes like a racoon for Bianca’s evening show.

The idea of Danny and Roy on vacation together buzzes around in Bianca’s head all night, no matter how hard she tries to concentrate on her comedy gig. Can’t help but get a little lost in the thoughts of having breakfast with Danny every single morning for seven days. Hearing Danny’s sunny laughter when he succeeds in making the younger man laugh and being able to say “See you tomorrow” and actually mean it. Bianca glugs through her drinks like a deprived alcoholic the entire show, trying and failing miserably to get Danny out of her head. Slowly everything starts to get a bit hazy, but that does little to repress the thoughts she’s been attempting to ignore. After a couple more drinks after the show has ended, with yet another stiff drink in hand, he finds himself picking out their seat selection so Danny can sit next to the window.

Roy wakes up the next morning to a pounding headache and a flight confirmation in his email inbox. His stomach slightly twists as he reads over the details.

Holiday resort package for two - Bali - one week.

Paranoia takes over, and he’s wondering how he’s going to break it to Danny - would Danny think it’s weird? Would he assume that Roy is just old and lonely, trying to buy company? Fuck. The older man doesn’t want to hear the hesitant ‘Sorry, I’ve got a lot going on right now’ from his lips, and the guilty ‘oh no, I feel so bad for wasting your tickets’ that will follow. Well. The tickets are already bought so he commands himself to suck it up, grow a pair and let Danny know. It’s his choice what he wants to do.

“I’ve got tickets. A week holiday, from this weekend.” Danny isn’t surprised at the early morning call from Roy or the lack of a greeting. ���Oh my god cool! Where to?” “I won them.” He blurts out. Where the fuck did that come from? The white lie just slips out, his subconscious clearly a tad too insecure to tell him the full truth. Danny laughs, “You fucking lucky bitch. I guess once a winner always a winner.” “Guess that’s what happens when you’ve got talent.” Roy retaliates. A characteristic scream laugh from Danny’s end of the line. “Lucky for me I get to enjoy your benefits. So who’s the real winner bitch?” Roy’s laughing into the phone and Danny’s chest elates - he loves making Roy laugh.  He can’t remember the last time someone besides Roy has made him this goofily happy.

“So you wanna come?” “Fuck yeah, I’m down.” It’s only after Roy hangs up he realises with a grin that Danny has agreed to come without even knowing where they were going.

The second his call with Roy ends he’s calling his manager and cancelling the week block. There must be something in his voice, an urgency perhaps, that makes his manager silent for a few seconds on the phone rather than a straight up ‘what the fuck?!’ “You’re sure?” She asks dubiously. Danny’s never asked for time off before. “Yeah man, I really need some time, you know, to take care of myself.” She agrees to postpone whatever she can and Danny is thinking to himself that the stars have finally aligned. He gets Roy all to himself in paradise for a whole week - for free too! They’re going to have time to talk for fucking hours and do every single thing he misses doing with Roy. It’s gonna be fucking epic.

*  * *  * * *  * * * *

Roy tells Danny a later flight time so he knows the messy man won’t be packed. He drags Danny off to the airport with just a carry on each, haphazardly packed last minute. “Do you know what my deepest, darkest fantasy is?” Roy says suggestively, quirking a brow. Danny brain stutters for a split second - god yes, he wants to hear every single one of Roy’s dirty fantasies. “Wha?” He cringes at how he breathless he sounds as soon as the word is out of his mouth but thankfully Roy doesn’t seem to notice. “Travelling with just a tiny ass carry on!” Roy says with a laugh. Danny nods in full agreement, suppressing the tinge of disappointment he feels when he realises the latino man isn’t talking about anything remotely sexual. “Yeah girl, if we’re hauling their asses back on a plane we’re gonna do it without 5 motherfucking suitcases of drag.”

*  * *  * * *  * * * *

“Does our room have a balcony?” Danny asks with puppy dog eyes. Roy chuckles, and Danny nudges him with his shoulder as they’re walking from the resort lobby to the elevators. “I’m serious! I need a balcony for my morning joints.” “It’s not our room pussyfart, we have our own rooms. We’re famous remember? We can afford it.” Roy sarcastically retorts. Their rooms are side by side, almost identical with a king bed and a ridiculous number of pillows on each. Danny cheekily waits until Roy is unpacked before declaring that he prefers Roy’s balcony and that he better get used to him using it. The two look similar - actually Danny’s room seems to have the better view. Roy doesn’t argue though, he knows Danny will be out on his balcony pretty much 24/7 - and he doesn’t mind at all.

“We made it girl!” Danny flops onto the bed like a mermaid, legs tilted together before stretching out into a starfish and rolling around. “And the flight wasn’t even too bad.” Danny had thoroughly enjoyed the seemingly too short flight, mainly because he had spent most of it with Roy’s head nestled between his neck and shoulder. The show they started watching was so good too, even though half his attention was constantly fixed on how close Roy was to him. They spy the massive pool from their balcony and decide to have a dip, overly excited by the fact the pool also has a built in bar. “Wanna get a drink to celebrate?” Roy asks smiling. Danny jumps up without hesitation, “Party.”

They freshen up and make their way downstairs. Roy’s changed into a pair of khaki shorts that are tighter than usual and Danny’s eyes can’t help but trail down his toned back and linger on his round ass. Danny loves the booty, no matter what size or shape, but goddamn - the curve of Roy’s heart shaped ass is mouthwateringly gorgeous. Ugh, such a gorgeous man with such a gorgeous ass. He pushes the thought out of his head as they enter the outdoor balcony seating, he can’t think of Roy like that. He isn’t allowed to, not after the first time around. There had been a period after Season 6 where he let himself indulge in that fantasy. Mistaking every friendly and affectionate gesture as hidden romantic interest only led to the most painful heartbreak of his life – and it was worse because he never had Roy to begin with, so technically he didn’t even have a loss to mourn. But he’s over it now, and as long as he doesn’t let this thoughts stray to what could’ve been, he’ll be just fine.

They sprawl themselves on reclined lounge chairs, enjoying the luxury of ordering their food and drinks poolside. Impatient to swim, Roy wolfs down his noodles in record time and starts to lather on sunscreen. “Wait 30 minutes girl. I got mad cramps swimming after eating pizza once it was not cute.”  Roy secretly loves that Danny fusses over him a lot of the time but he rolls his eyes for dramatic effect. “No need to mother me.” “I’d rather be daddy actually.” Danny pouts his lips and winks suggestively. Roy lies back down to tan as he waits for the food in his stomach to settle and Danny moves himself closer so they can chat over the noise of the busy pool. They start discussing the drama on the tv show they’ve started on the plane, their unending stream of conversation diverging until they’re somehow giggling at each other’s childhood stories.

They’re so wrapped up in each other and it’s only when the sun is setting in glorious streaks of red and purple that they realise how late it’s become. Not wasting any more time, they jump in; Roy swimming long, powerful strokes while Danny splish splashes around like a flying fish. He keeps accidentally splashing Roy in the face, shrieking and pretending to drown when Roy retaliates. They have handstand competitions and bet drinks on who can hold their breath underwater the longest. Danny always wins despite his smoker lungs and Roy playfully accuses him of cheating, jumping on him and pulling him under. “It’s ‘cause I’m a mermaid.” He says with a theatrical hair flip. Roy shakes his head, “More like a siren. Luring trade to their tragic deaths.” Danny blinks up at him with wet eyelashes and a cheeky smile and Roy can’t stop staring at how fucking perfect his face is. He can’t stop his hammering heart either and even though he knows his heart shouldn’t be beating that fast for a friend, especially Danny, his heart gives zero fucks.

They swim until they’re the only two left in the pool and it feels like their entire bodies are pruned. Roy gets out first to get them towels and as the multicoloured poolside lights reflect off the sheen of water on his body, Danny can’t help but gawk at him. Roy’s wearing a thin loose singlet, and seeing it plastered wet on him is almost more erotic than his bare chest. The clingy see through shirt defines the lean muscles of his torso, not leaving much to the imagination yet not revealing everything. God, his thoughts turn dirty so quick it makes his head spin and Danny gets hard as his eyes trail down to where Roy’s tight shorts do nothing to conceal his bulge. He’s trying to think of repulsive and un-sexy things like centipedes and people getting run over by a bus but his efforts get lost in a sea of filthy fantasies where Roy and him share the starring role.

“Let’s go back up, the pool’s closing down. I think the cleaners are getting a bit impatient waiting on us.” Roy’s standing by the edge of the pool, ready to go. Danny shakes his head, wracking his brain for an excuse to stay in a bit longer until he can get his problem under control. His face is an open book and it slowly dawns on Roy why he’s blushing and refusing to get out. “Oh my god are you haard?” Roy teases with a chuckle, his voice involuntarily deepening. “No it’s just- it’s not because of anything- it’s just like- one of those random boners you get you know? When you’re in one position for ages and then you move suddenly-” He’s rambling nervously, looking anywhere but Roy which the older man is thankful for - or else he would’ve noticed Roy heatedly staring at the outline of his hardened cock pressing against his swimming shorts. Roy forces himself to look away. “C’mere, I’ll block you. The cleaners are coming over to tell us to go.” He holds out a towel for him as Danny sheepishly gets out, avoiding all eye contact. Roy thinks to himself that red-faced, embarrassed Danny is probably one of the cutest things he’s ever seen - and accidentally-hard Danny is definitely the sexiest.

[thecaffeinebookwarrior]

How to Write a (Healthy) Relationship:  An Illustrated Guide.

@trappedinfairytales asked:

Hi! Let me start by saying this blog is a god send for more than just writing skills, I even turned on your notifications 😂 Anyway, I apologize if you've already done a post like this, but I was wondering if you could do a post with different kinds of healthy relationships? I feel like it would help, because even though I am a bi girl, I've never been in a relationship so sometimes I don't know where to start 🙈 

@magnificentcollectiverebel asked:

Bro bro I'm trying to write a cute lil romance do you have any tips please I didn't realize writing needs so much planning also thank you for all the tips on characters both of my love interests are girls the tips help

Excellent questions! 

Now, there has been a request for me to make a post about LGBTQ characters, so I will talk more exclusively about queer relationships then; sufficed to say this post applies to all types of healthy relationships.  Even though you could say I’m BI-ased on the matter.  (I’ll see myself out.)  

In the meantime, here are my personal rules of thumb for writing a ship-worthy romance. 

1.  Allow opposites to attract (but do it right!)

No, I’m not talking about two characters who have no common ground or core values;  I’m talking about two characters whose traits compliment one another.  

Maybe one’s analytical and the other’s impulse driven.  Maybe one’s a happy ray of sunshine and the other’s a grump.  Maybe one’s an idealist and the other’s a realist.

Do you see pattern here?  Not only do these proposed pairings balance each other out, but their mutually beneficial to each other:  an impulse-driven character will add spontaneity to the life of their analytical partner, while the analytical character will keep the impulsive one from leaping off cliffs;  the happy ray of sunshine will brighten up the life of the grump, while the grump will keep the ray of sunshine aware of life’s problems;  the realist will keep the idealist weighted in reality while the idealist will help them to get off the ground.

Moreover, as each of them has something the other lacks and needs, it creates a natural magnetism between them.  

Just think of it like the old Greek myth, in which mankind was split in two by Zeus and each of them are searching for their other half to become their best selves.  

In terms of writing romance, pretend your two characters are two halves of a greater whole, and allow them to complete each other.

2.  Create chemistry and attraction (but remember that it does not immediately equal love.)

If I had to pinpoint the source of my frustration with the depictions of attraction in literature, particularly YA romantic novels, I would say it roughly narrows down to the fact that the attraction, as it’s depicted, is largely extremely vapid and hollow. 

Two characters that hate each other are not going to have true chemistry or be compatible for a long-term relationship, even if one of them is equipped with excessive depictions of eye-color and can smirk like a champ.

To create true chemistry, the readers have to crave the characters’ interactions;  they have to root for them to get together, not role their eyes when they finally do.

So how do you do this?  Well, first and foremost, there are different and better ways to convey attraction than the tried and true “cerulean orbs” and obnoxious smirks and whatnot.

First and foremost, save strong, sensual language, like “she leaned in close, and I tasted her breath on mine,” “My heart thudded painfully in my chest as I felt her body press against mine,” et cetera for when your characters are actually in an intense situation.  That way, your audience isn’t desensitized to it and are more likely to root for your characters when they finally shack up.

When your characters first meet, keep the language light and playful.  Unless you’re doing a modern, queer reenactment of Romeo and Juliet (which sounds pretty awesome, honestly -- so long as the ending is happier) most people aren’t righting sonnets about people they first meet.

Let your POV character check out her prospective partner if you so desire, but press hold on the purple prose.  

For instance, instead of something like this:

“Long lashes fluttered like the wings of the butterfly over peridot orbs, a faint gold dusting over the graceful slope of her nose.  Red lips as ripe as strawberries glistened in the sun, and a waterfall of gilded hair fell over her slender shoulders.”

Try something more along the lines of this:    

“She had striking green eyes framed with long lashes, a smattering of freckles over the bridge of her nose.  Her hair was a thick mane of unkempt gold, and when she saw me, she smiled.  Her lips were plump and strawberry pink.”

If you’ll notice, both passages convey basically the same thing (i.e. that this narrator finds her prospective gal-pal attractive):  one is just significantly less pretentious than the other, and in my opinion, a lot more readable.

As the story continues, you’ll likely want to build up the tension as the character’s attraction to one another grows.  Maybe your character starts to get butterflies in their stomach whenever their love interest is around, or there’s a tension-filled moment where their skin brushes together.  Maybe they’ve found themselves constantly looking at one another’s lips and mouths.

Keep in mind while developing your characters’ chemistry into something greater that contrary to what most YA novels will teach you, attraction isn’t love.  Finding one another’s meatsuits aesthetically pleasing isn’t reasonable merit for a long-term commitment.  Love, generally speaking, is often just that:  it’s a commitment.  It takes time to cultivate, and it isn’t fun 100% of the time.  But people stick with it anyway, because ideally, the payoff is worth it.

And that’s a good thing.  As an author, you get to build up on your character’s relationship, challenge it, make it stronger.  And that’s a lot of fucking fun.  Plus, you get to write all the cute romantic shit in the times in between.

If you are implying love at first sight (which, sappy bitch I am, I’m a bit of a sucker for) feel free to imply as such, but I’m still inclined to think short, sweet descriptions work best:  “Their eyes met, and for a moment, Ishmael could have sworn the earth had come to a stop while the world kept moving.”  Or perhaps, “Luna looked at Misery for the first time, and knew right away this was the woman she was going to marry.” 

Now keep moving.  Too strong language too fast weighs your story down, keeps the reader from relating to it, and detracts from the satisfaction of when your characters finally end up together.     

3.  Let your characters’ relationship be built on friendship.  

The other day, I got lunch with my best friend and her new girlfriend.  A year or so ago, she’d gotten out of a really toxic relationship that she’d been in since I’d first known her.  

I’d thought she was happy (because at the time, I didn’t have anything else to compare it to) but seeing her with her new girl was like seeing the proverbial sunrise for the first time.  (Pardon the floral language.  Even I’m not totally exempt from purple prose.)

We laughed, we made jokes, we all checked out the hot waitress together.  Overall, it was just like spending time with two close friends -- just, y’know.  They happened to be in a romantic relationship with each other.  And that, let me tell you, makes all the difference in the world.

I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again:  all the sexual attraction in the world will not make up for the lack of a strong basis of mutual respect, affection, and camaraderie.  

Sorry to burst your bubble, authors of the mainstream publishing world:  even if they kiss in the rain till the cows come home, even if the music swells every time they make contact, even if it’s a love story for the ages, that means your characters actually have to be friends.

So ask yourself these questions:

Do your characters have any shared interests or hobbies?

Do they actively take interest in their partners’ hobbies?

Do they crack each other up, tell each other jokes?  Exchange playful jibes that aren’t pointed or hurtful?

Do they do the above more than they fight and bicker?

Would both your characters feel comfortable with their partner seeing them at their most comfortable (e.g. stuffing their faces with Nutella and watching bad reality shows)?

If so, would they join in?

If one partner feels hurt, neglected, or insecure, will the other partner take notice and attempt to comfort and reassure them?

Can they confide in each other?

Do they share the same goals, desires, and core values?

If you answered  ‘yes’ to most of these questions, congratulations:  your characters’ romance is more akin to Gomez and Morticia than most YA pairings today.  And believe me, that’s a good thing.

  4.  Make sure your characters are more or less equals.

She’s a ridiculously hot, intelligent, accomplished twenty-something.  He’s a an out-of-shape manchild in his thirties who makes lots of fart jokes and probably has a neck-beard.  

This pairing probably would raise quite a few eyebrows in real life, but it happens so much in movies and TV (particularly comedies) that no one even questions it.  Do I really need to remind you that the entertainment industry is largely male dominated?

This doesn’t always equate to characters being equal in conventional attractiveness:  movies such as Legally Blond and Hairspray, for example, both have adorable pairings featuring lovely plus-sized/chubby women and thinner, more conventionally attractive men.  Tucker and Dale vs. Evil consisted of a satisfying romance between a chubby, kindhearted hillbilly and a thin, conventionally hot girl.  Moreover, they don’t leave anything resembling the bad taste in my mouth that the aforementioned Manchild + Hot Girl trope does.    

But your characters will need to be more-or-less equals in terms of positive attributes.  Even if they differ significantly in conventional attractiveness or status, they’ll probably roughly even in out in terms of intelligence, good manners, kindness, conscientiousness, et cetera.  

It’s also best to avoid blaring power imbalances when writing healthy romances.  I’m inclined to avoid huge age differences (though there are instances where it can be healthy), and definitely avoid huge age differences where one of the characters is underage.    

Basically, if your pairing looks like they could belong in a Woody Allen movie, no dice.  (If you think I’m kidding, just look at his fifty-six-year-old self with a nineteen-year-old love interest in Husbands and Wives.)

Differences in wealth and status are also generally be okay, but be conscientious that they can easily become abusive if one person misuses their power (lookin’ at you, 50 Shades.)    

Last, and certainly not least, your characters will almost definitely need to be equals in terms of three-dimensionality.  No exceptions.    

Which brings me to my final point:

5.  Give your love interest purpose (outside of being a love interest.)

I’ve talked about this before, but why do you think there’s such a huge following for Kirk and Spock’s romance (besides that one episode where Spock gets super horny and the two of them role around in the sand for twenty minutes), when there are droves of female love interests for both?  

Why are Dean and Castiel AO3′s most popular pairing (besides the recurring prevalence of romantic tropes throughout their narrative), when the following for their more canonically established relationships are practically nonexistent?  

What about Holmes and Watson (besides the blaring case of queerbaiting in the BBC version, and the fact that Doyle’s Sherlock was rife with gay subtext), or Steve Rogers and Bucky and Barnes (besides the fact that the writers somehow find the possibility of making Steve a Nazi less offensive than having him love a man)?   

Internalized misogyny and fetishization of MLM by straight women is sometimes a factor.  But considering the popularity of these M/M pairings amongst queer women, I’m inclined to think its simply because these male main characters are simply the most interestingly written in their respective franchises. 

It also works the other way: why do you think everyone hates Kara and Mon El’s romance so much? Because Kara is a wonderfully developed, benevolent character (surrounded with equally developed, benevolent characters who would work much better as love interests, I might add) and Mon El is a callous, entitled jerk who only wants to become a hero to woo his prospective girlfriend. 

This is also why heterosexual pairings with equally well-developed characters have no problem at all finding followings.  Just look at Han and Leia, Mulder and Scully, Booth and Bones, Monica and Chandler -- both characters hold roughly an equal amount of weight in the narrative, so we give a fuck what happens to both of them. 

Healthy, well-balanced WLW romances with happy endings are difficult to find in media, but some of my favorite examples of ship-worthy pairings that fit this criteria are Korra and Asami from Legend of Korra, Willow and Kennedy from Buffy (even though I’ll never forgive them for what they did to Tara), Carol and Susan from Friends, and Alana and Margot from Hannibal.         

And of course, there’s these lovely ladies from Sense 8.

Bottom line is, make sure both your characters are important;  don’t follow the trend of meaningless, forced heterosexual romances in media in which one party could almost invariably be replaced with a sexy lamp or a dildo.

Make the love interest a hero in their own right, and the audience will root for them.

Best of luck, and happy writing!  <3