#honestly have been going through a pretty rough patch for a while

[likealittleheartbeat]

Zuko finished reading Aang's manuscript. He rolled up the parchment. The dry sound of the inked paper curling around itself touched him. That sort of sentimental mood always struck him after he read Aang's stories. Turning away from the sunset over the Patolas, he walked into the bedroom from the balcony, the orange light rippling over the mussed comforter.

Before he could set down the scroll and find a scrap of parchment to note his thoughts like usual, Aang swirled through the entryway as if he'd been listening in the hall all along. He leaned into Zuko, "So...?"

"Come here." Zuko kissed the arrow permanently wrinkled by Aang's years of warm wonder.

"You're avoiding the question," Aang responded as he curled fully into his reader's embrace. He placed his hand on Zuko's grip around the writing, and they looked together at the shared sensation.

"I'm a bit biased," another quick smooch, "but I love it." Zuko knew when Aang pulled away to plop down on the mattress and stick his bottom lip out what it meant. Not spot edits for grammar, not goods or bads, not likes or loves. Yet, even at forty, the petulance was still too endearing to immediately give him what he wanted. Instead, he stroked his beard and paced, keeping tabs on Aang's impatience from the corner of his eye.

Just before it over-steeped, he headed back to the bedside, kneeling and aligning his fingertips with his beloved's. "I never believed happy endings were believable," the former Firelord guided their hands into the air as he explained, "until you." Catching Aang's eyes again, Zuko crinkled up his nose, disrupting the lines where his anger had bore down into his scar for so long. "Is that an adequate review?"

"Is that a review of this story," Aang asked, "or just the crush you had from the first time you saw me?"

"Fine." Zuko stitched his finger's through the gaps and into a fist around Aang's hands, trapping him, so that with each compliment, he could aim his lips toward another ticklish spot. "And I always end up tearing up," he concluded as they reclined on the pillows and let their eyes fall into the depths of one another's, "that you can bare to write about kinds of joy that don't exist now."

Aang didn't respond right away. Darkness had fallen. Every object in the room was shrouded by night but lined by the moonlight's silver. Their hands traced around the curls of ears, the course textures of eyebrows, the rigid bones of cheeks and jaws. Soon enough they leaned into the desire those sketches had conceived. Then, nestled together, they dreamed.

[dcxdpdabbles]

In the cave boy fic, I hope Danny has to end up fighting against reanimated hot dogs (I blame the Joker) and when asked why he can fight off reanimated meat. he comments that that's a normal Tuesday in his house as his mom and dad end up reanimating dinner at least once a week, and honestly being here is the longest time he spent without having to fight against reanimated food. He loves his parents but they really need to practice better lab safety or at least stop putting the ectoplasm samples in the same fridge with the food.

This is also adjusted to the cave boy storyline before he takes out the Joker.

One morning, Brucie wakes up and decides to cook everyone breakfast since the night previous was rough for the crime fighters. Almost everyone had gotten injured in one of Riddler's games, nothing life-threatening, but they would be sore and in some cases, in casts for some time. Alfred had been the one to patch the heroes up, so even the aged butler had a rough time.

Bruice had woken before anyone, quickly frying up some sausages, making various versions of eggs (boiled, scrambled, fried, over-easy, omelets) spread out on the table for them to pick which lond they wanted. He made some oatmeal and cut up various fruit in a pretty arrangement of swans.

When the family finally dragged their tired bodies down to the table, they were all greeted by the sight of Alfred being utterly flabbergasted by the spread Bruice proudly presented. Bruicie happily has them take a seat, gathering a plate for them- not before forcing Alfred to sit at the head of the table and make Bruce move to the seat usually reserved for the Lady of the house- and cheerfully place a plate before him.

Everyone was giving each other unsure looks or staring at the plates in wonder. Even Bruce.

Because if there was one thing that was another consent in all the multiverse it was that Bruce Wayne can not cook. The closest any variate has even gotten was burned beyond recognition ash.

Yet here was an entire spread that while not the meal of kings still looked rather taste and some may even say artsty.

"Don't just sit there. Dig in!" Brucie laughs. His hair bounces around his face in an adorable helo, and the family can only stare.

"How did you do this? Is it laced with something?" Tim's voice is heavy with suspicion, which would have been an overreaction if everyone wasn't feeling the same way.

"What? No, It's just eggs, sausage and fruit. With some presentation, I guess, but this isn't hard to make," Brucie says with a hint of defensiveness. "I worked really hard on it."

"We all appricate it Brucie." Dick speaks up leveling the table with a hard look "And we will eat it no matter the taste."

Ah, that must be it. It may look editable, but indeed it would taste terrible. In fact, they wouldn't put it past a version of Bruce Wayne to cause them all to cling to a toilet with his cooking.

Knowing it best to get it over with, the Bats pick up a utensil and carefully cut a bite of eggs or sausage. They hesitate for a moment- Brucie digs in, chewing loudly and quickly through his omelet-throwing. Each other looks to wish them luck, and in one symmetrical movement, everyone eats.

It's...heavenly. It tastes as good as Alfred's food, which they thought no one could match. Before they know it, they fill their plates and go for seconds, not long afterward.

Alfred is all but glowing with paternal pride by the end.

"Young Master Brucie, I had no idea you knew how to cook and so wonderfully as well!" Aldred compliments

Brucie looks up, one piece of sausage dangling from his mouth, reminding them he had no table manners. How in the world does Alfred of his world allow that? They would never know.

Brucie swallows before grinning widely. "Thanks. I love cooking when it's not attacking me."

What?

"Come again?" Bruce asks, blinking slowly as Brucie launches into tale after tale about his food reanimating and creating armies in the family fridge to fight for their freedoms. Or just eating as quickly as possible to prevent the food from coming to life.

He jokingly points at the plate with the sausage. "We better hurry before they develop eyes."

He then just goes back to eating like nothing and the rest of the table is left horrified. Eventually, Brucie excuses himself to go watch a mind-numbing movie- because he doesn't do anything- and they rush the food down to the cave for tests.

They all panic until the results come back like usual, and they realize that he is likely just joking. They all feel bad for doubting him, all but Tim and Cass, who knew Brucie had not lied or joked.

His food honestly did come to life in his old world. They just don't know what to do with that information.

Why did Bruce have to be weird in all universes?

[giddyfatherchris]

📱skz texts —how they react/comfort you (when you're going through a rough patch with a friend)

| including. bang chan, lee know

warnings. mentions of homophobia, anxiety and depression (but not going in depth with any of these subjects)

a/n. FINALLY!! channie and lee know’s part babyyyy honestly i kept procrastinating but today i decided enough is enough.😤 again, these are not in order but i cannot be 🎶booOoOoOthereeeddd🎶 so :) hope you enjoy mwah xxx

changbin, seungmin & i.n

hyunjin, han & felix

Lee Know

He knew from your texts you were not in your normal state. You were usually such a bubbly person, but when you answered so drily to his questions, he knew something was wrong.

As he waited for you to come home, he couldn't help but pace in his apartment. You weren't living together yet, but you spent so much time at his flat that you claimed it as your second home comfortably. In the 15 minutes it took for you to arrive, Lee Know had prepared himself for many scenarios, but he could have never predicted how you opened harshly the door and slammed it shut. Your ritual of crouching on the floor, calling for his three cats, was brutally ignored as you stomped to the kitchen.

"Hi, baby." He tentatively tried. Cautious, he kept his distance as you grunted in answer. You opened the fridge door, looked for a milli second before you closed it, then repeated the same process with the pantry. You made yourself a glass of water, didn't even take a sip, and grumbled as you looked in front of you, not really seeing anything. You abandoned it on the counter, ready to stomp away, when Lee Know put himself in your trajectory.

"What's going on?"

You would have kept walking if he hadn't grabbed you by the shoulders and blocked you from carrying on.

"Uh?" you looked at him as if you were just now seeing him. "Nothing, something at work, it's enraging." 

"Then please tell me so I can know who to kill," he replied in an equally angered tone. His hold on your shoulders tightened slightly at the thought someone had hurt you. 

You looked at him, surprised. "What, kill someone?" 

"Please, Y/n. I've never seen you like this. I don't know what happened, but for it to put you in that state, I'm guessing it's pretty serious." 

He had to pull it out of you, but you finally explained how you discovered one of your coworkers, who you considered a friend, was, in fact, a raging homophobic, queer-hating asshole. When you first heard him comment on someone else wearing a rainbow pin, you had laughed it off, thinking he was being dumb, but he kept adding on, and you realized, horrified, that he was being serious. 

Cherry on top, when you told him you were pansexual, he had stared at you with this idiotic air and asked if you were attracted to kitchen appliances. It ended up with you terminating that 'friendship' and leaving the office completely enraged. 

Your boyfriend listened carefully to your story. His piercing eyes set on you when he finally stated, "I have no idea how you managed not to smack him in the face." 

You let out a dry chuckle, telling the story again only egged you on, and brought up a familiar gloom you hadn't felt in a while. Immediately, he noticed the change in your demeanor, how the burning rage had simmered to a profound sadness. "Hey, it's okay, you can report the bastard, you know. He can't go around saying stuff like that."

You wrapped your arms around your middle, your lower lip softly shaking as you exhaled. "It's been a long time since I've been directly in contact with someone like that. I'm mad at myself for not seeing it maybe others knew, and they considered me badly for hanging out with him. I feel so bad."

He pulled you to him, softly resting his chin on top of your head. "Some people are really good at hiding who they truly are. He never said anything before, you never could have known."

"I know, but I somewhat feel like a traitor to my community," you covered your face with your hands before hiding in his chest. "Is that dumb?"  

He softly pushed you back and leveled his gaze with yours. "That is a little dumb because you did not betray your community, okay? You can't betray someone if you've also been fooled. And you know what's the best thing to do now? Report his ass. I'm sure if you do, there will be others who feel comfortable speaking up."

Your eyes lit up at his suggestion. "You're right. I want queer people to feel safe at work. The thought that I might have been seen as someone who would threaten that makes me sick. But if I speak up, that could change. Maybe we could even create a committee to do sensibilization about homophobia in the workplace." The gloom in your eyes was replaced with a fire. "One thing is sure, I won't let it happen again.

He gave you an adorable grin as he softly grabbed your chin. "My little fighter, I'm proud of you."

Your eyes disappeared into a happy smile as you hugged him again. "Thank you for always supporting me, although I am slightly scared of how little it took to convince you to kill someone." 

He laughed before grabbing you over his shoulder and whispered with a diabolical expression. "You shouldn't." 

Because really, there shouldn't be a doubt in your mind that this man was ready to make anyone who hurt you pay a terrible price. 

Bang Chan

The leader rubbed his hands on his face in an attempt to wipe away all the exhaustion. He looked back at his computer screen, feeling a violent cramp in his head causing his eyes to squeeze shut of their own accords. 

"Okay, okay. I get it. No more computer today."

He grabbed his phone before getting up, pleading his eyes to survive one last exposure to the light of a screen. He clicked on your name and quickly typed in, asking you what you wanted to eat for dinner but all signs of fatigue disappeared once he saw your answer. Worry replaced any feelings in his heart, his tired eyes fixed on the device.

What could have happened for you to be so down? He knew you were dealing with a difficult friend lately, but could it have gotten this bad so quickly? He wondered if he should push it, ask you more, but as his eyes started burning again he realized it would probably be of no help and he should wait for you to get home. Chan looked around the apartment, an uneasy feeling in his chest, a restlessness agitating his limbs. You were hurting and he couldn’t stay still, waiting for you to arrive. Then it clicked, he looked at your messages once again, closed the app and started dialing a number he was starting to know very well. As the line rang, a smirk slowly took place on his full lips.

You tiredly entered your apartment, welcomed with a delicious aroma. You kicked your boots off, more than ready to change into comfortable clothes and hug your boyfriend. 

Your heart melted at the sight waiting for you in the kitchen. Chan, his sleeve rolled up, showing his strong forearms, was very focused on the pots and pans burbling in front of him. He softly hummed to the soft jazz music playing in the background, completely oblivious to the world around him. You silently walked to him and wrapped your arms around his middle, loving how his strong back felt on your cheek through his clothes. 

"Jesus! You scared me," he whined, still, you could hear the smile in his voice as his hands wrapped around yours. "How are you?"

You didn't answer, feeling tears prickling your eyes and that burning sensation in your nose when you knew you were about to cry. You buried your face in his clothes, hoping it would muffle the sound of your sobs. 

"Y/n?" he quickly turned around, realizing you were far from okay. "Hey, baby what's going on?"

Violent sobs shook your body as you slid to the floor engulfed in Chan’s reassuring embrace, allowing you to let it all go. Once you calmed down enough to take a big breath, he asked again. "Baby, what happened?" 

Softly, he brushed his fingers through your hair. He was a calm and reassuring presence for you in all the chaos. You knew you could trust him, knew you could tell him anything and he would be there for you.

"You know my ´friend’, our relationship was already rocky, I knew that, but I thought it was getting better. When we studied together the other day, we talked so much, about anything and everything and even personal stuff. I thought we were getting over that petty argument, but today I heard them tell other people from my classes how I was faking my anxiety disorder and depression symptoms. They said I only did it to get attention and that I- I was an addict." Your voice broke on the last word, horrified that such words could have come out of their mouth.

Chan had to fight everything in him not to go after them right now. If there was one thing he despised it was when the ones he loved were hurt. He couldn't bear it. He knew how hard it had been for you to get a diagnosis and start taking medication. How could someone be heartless enough to make such comments? 

"I heard some of the people in the group defend me, but still... I can't believe it. I'm so stupid, I never should have told them about it."

"Y/n. You are not stupid. They are the assholes. You are not stupid for trusting someone you thought was a friend okay? I don't ever want you to think you are stupid for that."

You looked at him with teary eyes. He felt himself melt and soften, all anger disappearing when he realized how badly you needed him. "You are not stupid. You are not faking anything." he softly stroked your cheeks, wiping away the tears as he did. "I'm so proud of you for reaching out for help. I'm proud of you every damn day, and you know the people who really love you do too." You closed your eyes, relishing in his warm touch, allowing his soft voice to erase every doubt and fear. He softly kissed your forehead, "Okay?"

"Okay," you whispered. "Thank you I don't know what I would do without you."

"You would still do amazing because you are one of the strongest person I've ever met."

You chuckled at his comment. "You're so cheesy. Still, I'm pretty happy to have you." You lifted your head towards the stove. "Especially if you tell me you've been cooking for me." You took a deep breath in, finally registering what it was you were smelling. You looked back at him, already smiling, a look of surprise on your face. "Is- is that my mom’s… How, how did you do it?"

A proud and satisfied expression was printed on his features. "You wanted your mom’s spaghetti so I called and asked her to help me make it. Turns out the recipe isn’t that hard." He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear while you stared at him like he was the most magnificent thing you had ever seen, which he was.

"I can’t believe you did that. My mother has never told anyone her recipe!"

"Yeah, about that. I might have had to make a deal with her to get it…" You rolled your eyes, ready to hear some embarrassing stunt your mother pulled on your boyfriend. "I had to explain why I wanted the recipe, and she might have made me promise we’d go visit your family in two weeks while you’re on spring break."

You squealed and wrapped your arms around his neck, asking him a thousand time if he was kidding, if this was really happening, while he promised over and over again it was. You pulled back to look at the satisfied smile growing on his lips. Chan was a sure value in your life, maybe the only true one, and as you looked at him, his dimpled smile and the satisfaction he had in preparing all this for you, you knew this was it. He was everything you would ever need.

[sukunasbow]

sfw hcs, the specialists.

summary: the specialists and sfw hcs!

warnings: fairy!reader and not fully proof read yet!

notes: i know winx probably doesn’t have much of a fandom on here but honestly this show gives me so much nostalgia so enjoy!

sky ✿

sky spoils you so much, he treats you like a princess, which is ironic considering he’s a prince.

to him, you’re his world, he’d never do anything to hurt you and he loves you so much.

sometimes, when the two of you are relaxing together, he lets you style his slightly long hair.

speaking of relaxing together, that’s one of his favourite dates, when the two of you just spend time at a cafe, getting a break from the chaotic fairy and specialist duties you usually deal with.

brandon ✿

you were one of the few people to first know that sky and brandon switched names. brandon wanted to be completely honest about the switch and you understood due to sky’s feelings about wanting to try a normal lifestyle.

literally the sweetest boyfriend ever, he treats you so good. he’s so gentle and loving with you, your heart melts every time you’re with him.

he doesn’t get jealous that often and neither do you, the two of you trust each other and have a relationship that’s really built on honesty and loyalty.

riven ✿

no one would’ve thought the two of you would get together, as riven has a high temper and you pretty much have no temper, always calm and relaxed. in fact, the only people that suspected something was going on with the two of you were bloom and sky, they always took notice of the flirty comments and subtle touches between the two of you. however, ever since you’ve announced your relationship with the hotheaded specialist, you’ve been extremely happy with him, and your friends started relaxing exactly how much sense the two of you make.

you’re a balanced couple that occasionally has rough patches, as riven can get really jealous and insecure, but you guys always make it out and your love grows even more. riven loves you and never wants to make you feel less than appreciated.

his favourite date with you consists of literally anything that involves you two being near each other, but he especially loves when you and him help your friends defeat the newest villain. he also loves when you cuddle with him, as he’s really just a softie deep down, constantly wanting to be touching you. he’s a huge fan of pda, unless you’re uncomfortable with it.

helia ✿

you and helia go together so well, no one was surprised when the two of you made your relationship official. your both calm and loving people, quickly becoming one of the best couples out of your friend group.

you love his hair so much. he just lets you run your fingers through his hair and style it into stupid little ponytails and buns, the man not even complaining about it, actually secretly enjoying it.

he’s literally the best boyfriend. he is always at your side when you need comfort and he gives you all his love.

timmy ✿

it took a while for timmy to build up the courage to ask you out, but once he did, you happily said yes.

the two of you are the definition of ‘opposites attract.’ you’re outgoing and a social butterfly, compared to timmy, who’s shy and doesn’t talk to many people aside from his friends.

he isn’t a big fan of pda, but behind closed doors, he’s always wanting to be close to you.

[littlelordfuckler0y]

Felix catton x reader Instagram au [part2] [part1]

yourusername proofreading my essay (he’s about to descend into madness)

fe1ix_catt0n There were some rough patches I’d say…

yourusername uh huh

yourfriend Exploiting English major friend perks 🙄

yourusername he offered alr

annabel_ he doesn’t even proofread his own essays lol

-

Felix sat in the library with legs crossed across y/n, these days he just happened to be in the library when y/n was. Just happened to be there to finish his reading assignment whilst she studied. He saw the frown on her face as she seemed to be stuck on something against the white light of her computer. They couldn’t group study as in help each other with assignments given their majors were entirely different but they had study sessions, finish their respective work together. “What’s wrong?” He asked, by now he was used to her patterns of difficulties, it was generally ‘thermodynamics’ and even though he didn’t understand it listening to her rant about it was somewhat cherished by him.

“This fuckass essay” she said with a sigh and deadpanned herself.

“Oh you’ve to write essays now?” Felix asked leaning forward in his seat given this was something he could help with.

“Not really, it’s just for the robotics seminar remember? There are supposed extra points if we submit an essay on how excited and emotional we are about partaking in it…” she trailed off as she stared at her screen “As if the model isn’t enough.”

“But you have been excited about this for months?” Felix mentioned tilting his head, “what’s the problem?”

“This essay, this is my third final rough draft and it’s so exhausting” she replied and slouched back on her seat crossing her arms.

“Let me help” Felix offered as she turned the computer to his side as he sat across her. Just going through the first paragraph his eyebrows knitted together trying to make coherent sense of it. Stem majors write the worst essay stereotype was now more than a stereotype to felix. “So” he paused going through it “You’ve just left gaps here with ‘something’ in the middle-what? What’s that for?”

“Oh yeah I’m supposed to put a fancy word there so it looks pretty.” She mentioned with a shrug.

“Just a fancy word? As in randomly?” He asked puzzled as he scrolled through her essay thoroughly and found she’d actually done that. Halfway through a sentence she’d added big words with some context.

“Not randomly no, just, put one in those places.”

“Oh-alright see the second body of the essay is well done, you’re talking about the system of your model and the workings of it, it sounds smart but isn’t the essay supposed to be about how you feel? I mean the assigned title is literally on it.” He explained “It doesn’t align with the main objective.”

“So what? I’ve written about my model which I’m entering IN the seminar.” She reasoned leaning back up on her seat as he shook his head and motioned his with his chin for her to come around the table and next to him.

“Yes but it barely covers the feelings aspect, which is what you have to write the essay on. It literally says that here” He said pointing to the middle portion of the screen where her essay was displayed as she stood beside him.

“I don’t read the small print” She said. Felix paused to look at her a are-you-serious look on his face and waited for her to catch on his disappointment “What?” She asked.

“Okay let’s see, you’ve just kept ‘something’ in quotes at places, which is fine for your first draft-”

“Draft?” She interrupted him with an obvious scoff “Oh no this is the final one. I don’t do drafts.”

“What? What do you mean you don’t do drafts?” He asked somewhat confused.

“I write then I proofread and cut, honestly I don’t know why you’re wasting so much time it’s just for extra” she shrugged so casually, felix felt like stem majors had an entirely different set of brain cells when it came to anything literary.

“This is going to take it a while.”

fel1x_catt0n Congratulations to Y/n and team! Great work guys ❤️

yourusername aweee thanks felix 🕺

fel1x_catt0n much deserved, angel

katie_ congrats

annabel_ did felix attend the nerd convention today? 😂

fel1x_catt0n it was very interesting despite your generalisation

farleigh_start Congrats girl!!

-

The whole science seminar was initially optional, even with such there was a lot of competition and a crowd. The crowd was mainly the college professors and seminar conductors and some juniors who had to volunteer for extra credits. However the crowd seemed huge from the stage minimising everyone into a small dot given the auditorium space was gigantic. After the prize distribution y/n and her team had gotten first place for their model. A big deal amongst a handful of people because not a lot of stem majors themselves cared about extra irrelevant to their portfolio projects. But well there were some. Y/n was very giddy, laughing amongst her team of three people as they walked down from the stage and through the auditorium amongst the crowd. They were then approached by the only student dressed in a full on tuxedo, not even a stem one. Felix.

“Felix?” Y/n blinked as she stopped in her tracks as she saw him approaching her direction with a giant bouquet of flowers and hugged her. She was confused and amused at the same time, she recalled telling him that the project was a big deal to her but she didn’t think he’d show up actually. “Woah you showed up?!” She asked giggling as he wrapped his arms around her even tighter and kissed the top of her head.

“Of course I did silly” he scoffed as he pulled away and handed her the flowers, “congrats smarty pants, all of you.” He spoke to her group as well with a victorious smile as he kept his arm around her shoulder.

“Thanks!” They said one after another, assuming Felix and y/n were perhaps a thinking. However the way Felix was dressed was rather funnier to them. They made their smell talk and went on about their way still snickering amongst themselves.

“Strange what was so funny…” he trailed off looking back at y/n as the rest of her team left.

“Your tuxedo” she replied with a small chuckle.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“The only set of people who’re wearing a tuxedo at this function are our professors, it’s just blazers I guess you’ve done out-dressed everyone” she jokes as she fixed the bow tie of his shirt and he playfully rolled his eyes at her.

“The invite seemed fancy, fancy attire for fancy invites isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?” He reasoned for himself.

“What invite?” Y/n questioned.

“The one on the function website” Felix replied.

Initially y/n had just forwarded the message she got from her group about the timings and venue as a vague invitation because zero art majors are interested in these events “what? We have a website?”

“Yeah. I looked it up” he answered with a shrug, he wanted to look just perfectly suitable for her event because it seemed to be a big deal for her, so he did his research despite failing miserably at fitting y/n found it to be a very heartwarming gesture.

“Wow? Such dedication…”

“Of course my love” he said with an obvious huff, hoping his hints would pass through her.

yourusername the one and only. tuxedo at da science centre.

yourfriend he was out there outshining professor john’s Maxwell theorem themed necktie🤗

yourusername LITERALLY?

teammate1 bow tie AND cufflinks…

fel1x_catt0n I see I’ve gained a reputation

teammate2 jokes apart you two are such a cute couple 💖

annabel_ LOL they’re not dating!!!!

yourusername yeah haha ^^

-

“are you serious?!” Y/n friend exclaimed as they spun around the flowers felix have in their hands. “He gave these? They’re bigger than our torsos man”

“Yeah…yeah…” y/n trailed off with a shrug trying to downplay it somewhat.

“AND he came in a tuxedo, AND he posted you…do you have zero situational awareness or what?” Her friend scoffed as they gently whacked the flowers on y/n’s forehead.

“Look, felix is a friend’s friend. He’s the most friendliest of them all. Stop trying to induce romanticism in me, he’s a great friend. Very outgoing, giving, sweet…that’s how he is.” She explained.

“You are most definitely blind are you not seeing these!” They pointed to the ever so gigantic bouquet of flowers, “helping you with your essay, bringing you snacks, wanting to hang out with you all the time-”

“That’s what we do too.” Y/n reasoned.

“Girl.” They took a deep breath. “I hate you and I never want to hang out with you.”

Y/n snickered falling back to her bed, “Yeah sure. I hate you too.”

“That’s not the point-we’re us and Felix is a completely new person in your life who’s doing all this for YOU.”

“Yada yada” Y/n said rolling her eyes at her friend as they once again whacked her with the flowers.

“You pull shit like this and that Annabelle will steal him from you. Dig your own grave.”

Y/n burst into a hearty laugh at that, “Steal felix? What are you on about we’re not a thing to begin with and Annabelle is his friend just like me.”

“YOURE NOT EVEN LISTENING TO ME” Her friend said with a sigh as they crossed their arms.

“BECAUSE YOURE NOT MAKING SENSE.” y/n said back with a high pitched tone, this was their normal between the best friends when one couldn’t get a point across, not just normal, civil even.

“OF COURSE IM NOT BECAUSE YOU ARE FUCKING BRAIN DEAD.” They said as they forcefully throw the flowers in her direction.

“YOU WANNA HAVE A GO AT ME OKAY.” she seethed and threw back a pillow, “Fucking come here” she said as the set of, almost grown ups, fought with one another in the most figurative sense with a pair of pillows aiming for most harm.

“Not my hair-not my hair you gangly uncoordinated bitc-” the wrestling match was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Followed by the familiar voice “everything alright in there?”

Felix.

“PAUSE.”

“-Pause.”

“What the fuck’s he doing here?” Y/n whisper yelled as her friend pushed her to go open the door, straightening her hair out hurriedly as she walked up there.

“GO.”

“Felix…Hi” y/n said as she caught her breath and smiled at him, despite of the disheveled state of her room.

“Hey…I was just passing by and I thought you were fighting-?” Felix asked with a soft smile as he leant on the doorframe of her dorm. It was as if he never needed an invitation.

“No we were just, er what is it we-we were” y/n looked back at her friend to jump in with an answer.

“Roomie wars.” Her friend shrugged off. “Ya know…where’s my candle, where’s my ramen from yesterday”

“Oh…” Felix trailed off with an understanding nods. “Yeah I get it.”

“Funny you were just passing by, through dorm hallways, when yours is—three buildings down isn’t it?” Her friend intervened with an accusatory chuckle receiving a disapproving look from y/n.

“Yes I was actually here for y/n.” Felix said, he would never be put in a situation where he’d get awkward, blatantly open and confident he didn’t truly care for implications if they were correct. “Do you have any lectures this evening.”

“No.” Her friend answered quickly before she could.

“Yeah no I don’t.” Y/n replied with a tight smile at her friend.

“Great then I’ll pick you up at 5 yeah?” Felix said.

“Wait-for what?”

“Anything.”

yourusername this man is drowning in pussy

fel1x_catt0n this is so foul

yourusername the cats wuv you

fel1x_catt0n yet your caption is that of a comedic genius

yourfriend I have no words

farleigh_start just not yours…

-

HIII I am sorry I don’t update regularly I promise I will now, I am going through a very difficult and traumatic time in my life it’s so so so hard to cope at the moment.

Any comments on this or opinions would help me a lot more than you think either ways if you’re here and read this thank you so much <3

[strawberrynightmere]

Bad Cats!!! [Part 4]

Warning ⚠️: yandere tendencies, reader going through some emotions, some really vague stuff, I seriously don't know how to put up warnings, read at your own risk.

A/n: Honestly, I didn't know how to start off with this. And this is pretty much the last part.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

It has been months since drastic changes, such as being saved from homelessness by one email and finding out that you've housed two catshifters, have been shoved into your life. And let's just say that you have no idea how to deal with them, not that you could do anything on your own now.

"I'm feeling full, I can't take another bite."

"That's beraly half of what you usually ate."

"That fact alone is disturbing! And I'm taking this slow. Stop trying to speed through it." You say while leaving the table and going somewhere else. Ever since the "rough patch" that just danced its way into your life, Andrew has been forcing you back into a healthy schedule.

You need fresh air. You need to clear up your mind, everything feels fogged up. You go out on the balcony and sit down on a out-doors-chair that you have. taking in a deep breath, your muscles relax and you slump back. Once your mind clears up you are able to hear cars honking from below you.

Maybe you should take a nap outside.

The swinging of the balcony door breaks your train of thoughts.

"Get in, dumbass. it's cold outside! Do you wanna give Andy more reasons to breathe down your neck?"

Or maybe not.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

You stare at the ceiling of your bedroom, you weren't tired, it was too early for you to sleep, however, Andrews heavy arm that was splayed across your body wasn't letting you go anywhere.

Was this really gonna be your life?

Now, you weren't against it, per say. You sort of did want a life like this, but the outcome wasn't something you'd expect to happen.

Andrew nuzzles his face at the crook of your neck.

Should you just embrace this change?

None of the changes felt bad. You're just too tired.

You subconsciously wrap your arms around him, instantly feeling his embrace tighten.

It won't be so bad.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

A/n: I tend to procrastinate, so I'm really sorry it took so long.

[theharddeck]

talk with my hands, maybe take it real slow (jake seresin x fem!reader)

Pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader (no y/n)

Synopsis: Jake's roommate has a new tattoo and can't stop itching at it...what kind of friend would he be, if he didn't help distract her?

Warnings: this fic is 18+, minors please DNI – we go pretty quickly into smut, featuring the usual--explicit oral sex (both receiving, bc we're feminists like that), and then also PiV sex, including but not limited to, condescension, overstimulation (bc what's the point of fiction if we're not wringing multiple orgasms out of our self insert?) and creampies (do not have unprotected, unnegotiated sex pls)

Length: 7.8k

A/N: sorry about the moodboard being lacluster; I couldn't find a tattoo pic that wasn't on a size 0 thigh or white, so we went without

You hadn’t considered yourself to be a person with particularly awful self control, but then again, you’d never had a tattoo healing on your inner thigh, driving you mad with the need to scratch at it. It’d been 3 weeks since the appointment and your ink was probably 95% healed; the redness had faded entirely and a couple raised patches of roughness were all you had to show for the fact that it was new. Which somehow made the incessant need to itch all the more frustrating, because you were pretty sure it was mostly phantom at this point. 

“Listen, honey, you gotta chill.” Jake’s voice interrupted your inner monologue, from his seat on the couch across the living room. 

Your roommate had started in hard on the Southern pet names when he’d seen that they’d flustered you. Honestly, there was precious little the man wouldn’t do, if it meant making you unnerved. You two didn’t have what you’d call a friendship, but the playful Something between the two of you felt safe and fun. Even if it did mean that Jake seemed to take a little more pleasure than he should’ve, in the face of your pain.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you replied drily, “are the literal thousands of abrasions on my skin irritating you?”

Jake rolled his eyes at your melodrama. “I can feel you thinking from over here, and it’s taking up real estate that belongs to Maya Hawke,” he gestured to the TV where the latest season of Stranger Things was playing.  

“It itches,” you mumbled, hearing the complaint in your voice and knowing it was pathetic, but too over it to care. 

Jake cut you a long look, like he also heard it, and was embarrassed for you. “Want me to get you some ice?” he asked, and it was sweet of him to offer, but…

“We’re out of ice,” you sighed. “I went through the last two trays in, like, record time, and they’re refreezing now.”

“We have like fourteen trays,” Jake frowned.

“Yeah, well someone,” you paused meaningfully, “drastically depleted our resources when he decided to have a bourbon tasting over the weekend.”

Jake had the grace to look guilty for a  moment. Then it was his turn to sigh dramatically, lifting his arm to the back of the couch and swatting at the cushion next to him. “Alright, kid, c’mere.”

In retrospect, you probably should’ve asked why, or at least deliberated for half a second before doing what he asked. In reality, you pushed off the settee you’d been lounging on, and flopped ungracefully onto the couch next to Jake. You shared a bathroom with the man and he’d seen you on the second day of your period; dignity was a distant memory. 

Still, it didn’t prepare you for Jake pulling your legs apart with one of his large hands, and spreading his fingers over your tattoo, all while calmly turning up the volume of the TV with the remote in his other hand. 

“Jesus, Jake,” you choked out, telling yourself the goosebumps erupting over your whole body were entirely because of your surprise, and not any other reason. “Buy a girl a drink first.”

Jake chuckled, somehow managing to shake his head at you while not looking away from the TV. “You’re the one who’s always telling me my hands are cold as ice.”

Had you said that?

It sounded like something you’d say.

But Jake’s hand on your leg felt anything but cold. Okay, no, if you separated your brain from—well, from anything—you could recognize that his fingers were quite cold, and it was incredibly soothing having them over you. His thumb was brushing lightly over your skin, while the rest of his hand stayed still, and you knew that ice cubes couldn’t do that, but damn, it would’ve been great if they could. You settled back into the couch, relaxing into the soft material and the relief brought by Jake’s hands.

It was a wonderful two minutes. 

Good to know that that was how long it took for the fourth law of thermodynamics to kick in, and for Jake’s fingers to warm up after extended contact with your skin.  

Then a new problem was presented—you couldn’t scratch at yourself without scratching him. You shifted slightly, to see if you could get any type of friction, but Jake’s touch was light enough that he moved with you. You snuck a glance at Jake’s profile, still fixed on the TV screen, and his expression could best be described as incredibly pleased with himself.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” you muttered accusingly.  

“Absolutely,” he said, smugly. “You could fidget up a storm over there, but here you have to just deal with it.”

You pressed your lips together to keep yourself from sticking your tongue out at him petulantly. You folded your hands in your lap, determined to ignore the rising propensity to scratch at yourself. At some point, you’d sunken into the couch until your shoulder was pressed against Jake’s arm, and you shifted so your cheek was resting against him too. His tshirt was soft, and he smelled clean, like a freaking linen candle, which was annoying, because it didn’t help clear the riotous tangle of thoughts rushing through your head.

You did stop fidgeting, though.

“Atta girl,” Jake said quietly, his thumb still moving over your thigh.

Was it hot in here?

It had to be hot in here.

Because this was Jake, your roommate, who’d never shown an ounce of interest in you, being calm as anything with his hand literally on your thigh, and saying things that would’ve sounded like come ons from anyone else.

You tried to focus on the TV, and whatever ridiculous shenanigans the children on it had found themselves in, pulling a deep breath through your nose.

(Immediate mistake, because of said linen candle bullshit). 

On the TV, Nancy’s hair got frizzier, Steve’s life got shittier, and all the while your leg was getting itchier and itchier.

You reached to press a hand over the skin distractedly, forgetting momentarily that Jake’s hand was there until you encountered his fingers instead of your skin. He turned his hand over, his knuckles pressing against your skin while his fingers intercepted your own.

“Where’re you going?” he asked, voice lightly mocking, and you wrinkled your nose. It wasn’t fair that he wasn’t affected, his hands so close to your burning skin, and he still had the wherewithal to tease you for your poor impulse control.

“Jake,” you whined, trying to untangle your fingers, but his grip was unrelenting, “I’m not gonna scratch, okay, I just need to do something.”

He looked down at you, which you had to admit, was a hell of an experience when your head was practically on his shoulder. 

He blinked slowly, looking at you closely before he opened his hands, letting your fingers go. You pulled your hand back, eyes closing in relief when you pressed them against your skin. It wasn’t as good as scratching, but the pressure helped, and you shifted your fingers—and your nail accidentally dragged against your skin. 

Which was pretty much the worst thing that could happen, because it was like a tease and it shouldn’t have felt as good as it did, but you were half a second away from clawing up your thigh when Jake’s hand closed around your wrist again. 

“Seriously?” he asked, amusement coloring his tone. 

“Just let me,” you pleaded, trying to pull your wrist back. “It’ll take like two seconds and then it’ll hurt and I can stop.”

“You could also get infected or mess up the ink placement,” he said, and you stopped pulling for a moment.

“When did you learn so much about tattoo care?” you grumbled, and Jake chuckled again. It sounded different this close to him, deeper. 

“When my roommate decided to mark up the inside of her leg,” he replied easily. “Now don’t you have a lotion or something you can put on this?”

“I do, but it doesn’t help,” you said, annoyed that he was right. 

“Well, let’s at least try it, yeah?” Jake asked, and you rolled your neck, sighing. 

“Fine,” you pushed yourself off the couch. 

You felt Jake’s eyes following you to the bathroom, so you didn’t scratch at your leg, not wanting to hear more of his teasing. You found the jar of lotion, dropping back onto the couch as you unscrewed the lid. 

“It’s just gonna be sticky and leave white marks on the couch,” you groused, looking confusedly over at Jake when he held his hand out. “What?”

“What do you mean, what,” he retorted, like it was obvious. “I’m not gonna let you do this; you have zero impulse control.”

You were too stunned to resist when he plucked the lotion out of your hands, dipping his fingers into the jar. 

Had you said that the worst thing was an accidental nail brush against your tattoo?

That wasn’t true. 

Because the actual worst thing was having to sit there, pretending everything was fine and normal, as your ridiculously hot roommate started spreading Aquaphor on your inner thigh. 

Jake was nothing if not thorough, his long fingers smoothing the cool lotion over your skin, pressing slowly into you and fucking kneading into your thighs, but that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst of it was that he was entirely serious. Gone was the teasing condescension, the knowing look, and in its place was an unfamiliar gentleness. 

Jake’s head was bent, some of his perfect hair falling in front of his eyes, as he properly tended to your leg like he was a nurse and these were doctor’s orders. Like he wanted to be absolutely careful as he looked after you, like looking after you was even something he did. You swallowed, forcing your breathing to remain even. 

This was fine, this was normal. 

This was absolutely not complicating the tenuous relationship the two of you had, and wasn’t causing you to read into the pet names, the caring, the fact that his big hand was literally between your legs. 

He had to stop, or you had to stop, because now was not the time to be thinking risque things about your roommate, not when he was genuinely being sweet and trying to help.

“I think that’s good,” you said, hoping Jake couldn’t hear the tremor in your voice. 

Jake tipped his head to the side, considering his work, then nodded to himself, satisfied. He rubbed his hands together, wiping the excess lotion on the backs of his knuckles, and screwed the lid of the jar back on. You were readjusting on the couch when he leaned across you to leave the jar on the coffee table and when he shifted back, one of you messed up, because his forearm brushed against your chest. 

“Uh, sorry,” Jake said quickly, “I wasn’t—”

He was interrupted, of course.

Because you could tell yourself you were fine, everything was fine, all day long, but turns out that the slightest, accidental brush of Jake against your breasts had an ungodly whimper spilling out of your mouth before you could stop it. 

He froze. 

Shit. 

“Shit,” you said aloud, hands covering your face in embarrassment, “no, I’m sorry, that wasn’t—uh, we can ignore that—I don’t know what’s going on with me, sorry to make it weird, it’s not your fault—”

You stopped babbling when Jake’s hands closed on your wrists, and, for the upteenth time that night, you let yourself be guided by him. When he pulled your hands away, your breath caught at how close he was, and the unfamiliar expression on his face as he looked between your eyes. 

“I need to know right now,” he said, his voice serious as anything, “if you’re apologizing because you’re embarrassed, or because you didn’t mean it.”

You pressed your lips together, not trusting what sounds would come out of your mouth with Jake’s hands holding your wrists, and his eyes this intense. Whatever he read on your face had Jake’s lips parting, a shaking breath drawn in through them, before they thinned in a lazy smile. 

“And here I thought I was the perv, taking any excuse to get my hands on you, darlin’, when you’ve been wanting me just as bad.”

Your jaw dropped at his blunt words, but what, were you going to say he was wrong? 

Jake’s head cocked sideways when you didn’t say anything, and he guided your hands to the back of his neck, before letting go of them. Your fingers wound around his neck, the ends of his hair brushing your thumbs, and you realized he was waiting for you to say something before this—whatever ‘this’ was—went any further.

“Probably worse,” you admitted, not even trying to hide the breathlessness in your voice, “if I’m honest.”

Jake’s eyes darkened and his grin grew wider. “If that’s how honest sounds, I think I want to hear more of it,” he said.

Fuck, he was going to ruin you.

“Kiss me and find out?” you managed, and Jake huffed out a laugh before reaching for you again. His hands settled on your waist and he lifted to drag you towards him. 

“Yes ma’am,” he whispered before his lips crashed into yours. 

You were still reeling from the title, and how you liked the sound of it a little too much, but Jake’s mouth against yours drove that thought from your head. He kissed you like he’d wanted it for longer than you could’ve expected, his teeth biting at your lower lip, his tongue soothing after it. You shifted to help him as he pulled you towards him, both of you gasping when you settled in his lap. You were thankful his flannel pajamas could stand a bit of residual lotion, just as you were thankful for the pressure of his hands on your waist, fingers pressing into you and pulling you closer. Jake licked at the seam of your lips and you opened for him; when his tongue swept into your mouth, you felt it in your core. And suddenly, or maybe not suddenly, maybe finally, after months of build up, you were desperately needy. 

Your fingers pulled through his hair, and Jake’s hips pressed up when you pulled lightly on the strands. At the motion of his rolling hips, your pajama shorts pressed tightly into your core and the friction felt like building, and Jake broke away from your mouth with a gasp. His hands tightened on your waist, holding you still, and while you appreciated his restraint, you wanted to feel him again. 

You whispered his name as he trailed kisses down your neck, and your breath quickened when he found your pulse point under your jaw. Jake hummed, the vibration echoing over your skin, through you, and you realized he was muttering things against your skin. 

“D’you know how hard these last three weeks have been,” he whispered, lips ghosting over your skin as he pressed kisses to new goosebumps, “with you always in those tiny shorts, saying it’s because you can’t have tight clothes over your tattoo?”

You felt lightheaded at the idea of Jake wanting you this whole time, maybe longer, locking it away and refusing to act on it because he didn’t know what you felt.    

“It’s true,” you managed, and Jake laughed, a puff of warm air over your skin. 

“And if that wasn’t enough,” another kiss, another soft suck, “you’ve been so whiny, haven’t you? Always pouting, always needy, making me wonder how you’d sound…”

Your eyes were closed, your world distilled to the heat of his mouth, the heat of his words. You pulled at him, needing his mouth over yours again, and Jake obliged. He was so much softer than you expected, gentle but firm, and he tasted so damn good. 

With him distracted, you rolled your hips again, rewarded by the friction over your core, and you could feel Jake hardening in his pajama pants. It was addictive, and you sought him out again, pouting when Jake stilled your hips again. 

“Baby,” he murmured, and heat shot through you at the pet name, not one he’d used jokingly before, “what was the point of the lotion if you’re going to grind it off against my flannels?”

“You can reapply it later,” you rationalized, but Jake shook his head, smiling in spite of himself. His lips were swollen, his cheeks reddened, and you loved the look of him like this, almost dazed. 

“C’mon,” he prompted you, and guided you to stand. Your legs felt weak, but you managed, and Jake’s hands smoothed up the outside of your thighs. You were between his spread knees, and his hands played with the hem of your shorts before he pulled them down your legs, taking care to not scrape them over your tattoo. The air felt cold on your exposed skin, and Jake swore quietly as he dropped the shorts, staring at you in your underwear with something that felt dangerously close to adoration. 

He leaned closer, and at first you thought it was so he could be more gentle with your fragile panties, but then he pressed a kiss to the outside of your thigh and you jumped, pushing him away, embarrassed again. 

“You don’t—” you started, pursing your lips, “um, you don’t have to…do that. We can—”

Jake’s hands smoothed over your thighs, coming around to cup under your ass. Had you said his hands were cold earlier? You were sure they were burning, leaving trails of heat wherever he touched. 

“Nah, baby,” he whispered against your thighs, his nose brushing the soft skin there, as his hands squeezed you, “nothing ‘have to’ about something I’ve been dreaming ‘bout for months.”

Well, fuck, when he put it like that…

“Okay, then,” you said quietly, weaving your hand into his hair again, and Jake flashed a smile up at you. 

“Okay, then,” he echoed, and his fingers pulled your underwear over your hips. He scooted to the front of the couch, a motion that should’ve been cute for his enthusiasm, but instead was simply devastating. He looked so good like this, eager and hungry, and your breath caught when he licked his lips, your hips canting towards him. 

He didn’t look away from you. 

His green eyes locked on yours as he leaned closer, not pausing when his tongue crept past his lips and you were the one to break, your head tipping back when he licked you. His tongue was flat against you, like the first taste of ice cream, and your head spun at the shamelessness of it. You whimpered when he pulled away, and Jake’s breath was warm as he leaned back again. 

“There’s that sound I was after,” he murmured, his soft words a cutting juxtaposition to his filthy tongue. 

He teased you with soft licks, lapping at your arousal that’d only grown since he’d first touched your thighs earlier tonight. His hands snuck around to pull you apart, spread you on his fingers like he needed his tongue closer, tasting you and drinking you. He was unhurried and it was maddening, and you pulled at his tshirt distractedly, needing to feel his skin.  

“Ah, honey,” Jake muttered as he pulled back. “You taste so good, fucking unbelievable.”

You opened your eyes to find his chest heaving, his eyes dilated and your slick smeared across his chin. He looked so good like this, drunk on you, and you imagined you looked nearly as wrecked. He leaned back to pull his tshirt over his head, and your fingers smoothed over broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin, as it was bared to you. 

He tossed the shirt aside and a moment later he was leaning back into your cunt, nuzzling your clit with his nose as his tongue lapped at you. Your knees nearly buckled at the sensation, and Jake groaned, the vibrations only increasing the intensity of the feelings flooding you. His strong hands held you up, spread before him, and he lifted his mouth to tease at your clit. You whined when his tongue rolled around you, alternating tight circles and slow, and your eyes rolled back when he closed his lips and sucked. 

“Jake, oh my god,” you gasped, feeling your stomach tighten. It was too soon, you knew it, but you also couldn’t fight it, and it was practically crashing over you—

Jake pulled back. 

You whined in confusion, looking down to find him looking up at you, a familiar expression of smug awareness on his face. He turned his head to press a gentle kiss to your thigh, amusement sparkling in his dark eyes. 

“Told you I’ve been waiting on this for months, honey,” he teased, another wet kiss slightly higher on your thigh. “You didn’t think I’d let you off that easy, did you?”

Nothing about this felt easy. Not the way he had your body primed for release, every nerve wound tight, not the way you felt it slipping away, and your desperation only climbing. 

You whimpered his name, too gone to be embarrassed by how fucked out you sounded. 

“Aw, baby…” Jake cooed, and you saw his shoulders shift as he repositioned. Before you could anticipate his next move, a broad finger was stroking through your folds, and you cried out, your hands flying to his shoulder to steady yourself. 

“So pretty like this,” Jake soothed, pulling his finger through you, stroking back over you, the pressure perfect, but not enough, “needy. Desperate.”

“Jake, please,” you cried, appalled to find real tears were pushing behind your eyes. After being so close to release, then being denied, then held steady wherever his fingers pulled you, you couldn’t be responsible for the way your body was shaking.

“Bet you’d beg me for it, wouldn’t you?” Jake said, voice even and unbothered. He added another finger, still not entering you, just teasing over you, languid. “You’re all proud when you’re strutting around in those shorts, cute when you ask for help, but not like this, huh? Like this, you know who’s in charge.”

Any response you had was cut off when he plunged both fingers into you. 

No warning, no easing, just sudden pressure and thickness and your body tightened around the sudden intrusion, unrelenting and unexpected and fucking perfect, and you couldn’t stop your orgasm as it ripped through you.

“Oh, fuck,” Jake groaned, as he recognized your walls tightening around his fingers. “Thatta girl, come on, give it to me.”

You moaned, your core clenching as your denied release rolled over you, scalding and strong and you felt it in your toes. You didn’t know how you were still standing, you knew the sounds pouring out of you were unbridled, and Jake was proudly talking you through it. 

“So beautiful, baby, you’re doing so good,” he said, his other hand stroking up your neck to support your head. You turned your head desperately, pulling his thumb into your mouth and sucking on it, needing to be grounded. 

“Fuck, baby,” Jake moaned, and his fingers kept their pace inside you. You felt the edges of your orgasm soften as he worked you through it, and as the fingers not in your mouth brushed against your cheek, you realized he was wiping away tears. You were shaking, it was perfect, but his fingers inside you were pressing deeper and if he wasn’t careful, he was going to push you higher again. 

“How we doing, honey?” Jake asked, and you lifted your head to meet his eyes. He was watching you carefully, and he pulled his thumb from your mouth so you could answer him.

“Good,” you whispered, through the clearing haze, “really, really, good.”

Jake hummed, tilting his head as he considered you. His fingers scissored inside of you, and you clenched down on him, hands grasping his shoulders. 

“Then I think you should give me another,” he said, smile growing as your eyes widened. 

“Jake, wait—” you protested, but you went without opposition when he pulled you back to the couch. His fingers paused their exploration but he didn’t pull out of you as he guided you onto your back, propping your knees up carefully. 

“Have to be gentle with that thigh,” he said, his voice growing husky as he settled between your legs. He stroked his fingers again, and your core clamped down on them, still not fully returned from your first high. Any other protest you had died when he bent down again, his mouth returning to your cunt. 

You’d had his tongue, you’d had his fingers, and they’d made you cum like you hadn’t in months. And now suddenly you had both at once, and you were pretty sure it was going to cost you your mind. 

“Jake, fuck,” you keened, your back arching off the couch.

Jake didn’t respond, too busy lapping up your release and thrusting into you. His tongue traced a maddening pattern over your clit as his fingers pressed deeper into you, stretching you.  

“You taste even sweeter like this, baby,” he mumbled into you, and you moaned as you felt his words. His fingers brushed something deep inside of you and you couldn’t breathe; you reached for Jake’s hair, pulling desperately, hoping he could read how impossibly taut you were. 

“You know something,” he mused, like it was the calmest thing in the world, “you came so quick, didn’t you? Came once you had something fucking you, and it was so beautiful, honey…but I never got to hear you beg.” 

“Jake,” you whispered, his name the only word you could manage, the only thing you could say with his fingers brushing that spot and his mouth just a breath away from you. 

“Nah,” he said, his voice low, “I know you could do it so prettily. Won’t you do it for me, sweetheart, won’t you let me hear it? Let me make you cum again?”

He kissed you again, his mouth light and teasing, brushing caresses over your mound but not where you were aching, throbbing, for him. His fingers slowed, torturously, pushing you closer but not fast enough, and you felt your eyes filling again. What was he asking for?

What was anything, what did he need?

“Jake, please,” you gasped, your voice thick. “Please, please—”

“Please what, baby?” Jake asked, another soft kiss. “What do you need?”

“I need to cum,” you practically sobbed. “Please, need it so bad, please, Jake—need you so bad, need you to—”

“That’s right,” Jake practically growled, his voice lower than you’d ever heard it. “You need me. And I’ve got you, honey, so you can let you go, since you asked so nicely, and I’m gonna take care of you…”

His forearm was banded across your waist, holding you still as his fingers found that spot inside of you, pressed up against it, and your thighs shook as your second orgasm bowled over you. Jake’s tongue was over your clit, then his lips closed, and when you thought you might be ready to let go of the high, he sucked, and you fully shattered. You could feel your nails raking into his back, feel his responding groans through the mouth still pressed to your cunt, as your world dissolved into white heat. It swept over you and you stopped trying to ride it, just let yourself be thrown, buffeted by Jake’s mouth, Jake’s fingers, Jake’s soft words.  

“Fucking gorgeous, baby, you did so good,” Jake was murmuring into the skin of your stomach. His fingers were still inside of you, gently rocking but no longer trying to stimulate you. It would’ve brought tears to your eyes, if they weren’t already streaming, how tender he was being with you. The whiplash was incredible—how quickly he’d brought you to orgasm, how easily he’d denied you, how thoroughly fucked out you were, now that he’d given it to you. 

God, and you hadn’t even had him yet. 

“Jake,” you croaked, your throat hoarse, and he lifted his head to look up at you. 

“What is it, honey?” he asked, voice soft. He was propped up on his elbows, and he shifted slightly, pulling his fingers out of you. You pressed your lips together to stop a whimper from escaping and trying to ignore how empty you felt, and watching quietly as he wiped his hands absently on his pajama pants before looking back up at you. 

You lifted a hand to brush away some of his hair that’d fallen into his face. You shifted slightly, pulling the hem of your tshirt down to wipe at his chin, clean him up a little. It was rough, not the intended purpose of the garment, and Jake laughed a little at the clumsiness of the action, pressing his jaw into your cotton-covered hand, to help you as you wiped at his face. 

You bit your lip, more to stop yourself from smiling so wide it made you hurt, looking down at him, propped up on his elbows 

He looked proud. 

He looked content, and it made your heart swell uncomfortably in your chest, that he’d look like that after taking care of you. But the longer you looked at him, something like doubt flickered behind his eyes and he cleared his throat, looking away. 

“If…” he started, and he shook his head, like he was clearing the fog after a night out. “Uh, you know, if that’s too much…or not what you wanted, or something, we can just say it was a distraction. You know, to get your mind off the tattoo.”

You hadn’t thought about the thing in what felt like a lifetime.

More importantly, you saw Jake still wasn’t meeting your eyes, like he expected you to say that that’s all this was, and he was worried you’d see too much if you were looking at him when you said it. It broke your heart, that he would push away his own repressed feelings, if it meant protecting yours. 

Although, to be fair, you’d both been more honest in the last thirty minutes than you’d been in the months before, so it was probably on you, as well as him. 

You carded your fingers through his hair again, waiting.

It took another couple seconds, but Jake steeled himself and looked back at you. 

You hadn’t realized you’d missed the green of them. 

In the height of everything, they’d been hooded and dark, the bright color nearly lost in his blown pupils. But like this, clear and sweet, you thought you might like this better. 

“It wasn’t too much,” you said, simply.

Jake’s shoulders dropped, just slightly, and you saw him wanting to contest it, and so you shook your head. 

“I think that’s a conversation for later,” you said gently, “when we’re both a little more clothed, hmm?”

“Oh,” Jake said, his head turning quickly as he looked around for your pajama shorts. “I can reach—”

You wanted to roll your eyes and you wanted to pinch him, just a little, to get him to listen to you. “That’s not what I meant,” you corrected. “I’m not…I’m not ready to be done. Besides, we han’t gotten you off yet.”

“Oh, that’s okay, that’s not what this was about,” Jake said quickly and you tilted your head, pushing yourself up to sitting. 

Jake was still between your spread knees, your faces close together now, and you pressed a kiss to his cheek, a quick reassurance before you reached between the two of you. 

Jake jumped when your hand slid over the front of his pajama pants, and you felt like cooing. Even through the thick cotton, you felt him respond to your touch. The fabric had to be adding to the illusion, because he felt enormous under the flannel. 

And it was very gentlemanly that this was for you, that he didn’t want this to be a thing about reciprocity, but in a much more tangible way, he’d made you feel infinite, just a few minutes ago. If you could do the same for him, you imagined you’d probably feel just as proud as he had, to see you come undone.

“What’d you say,” you asked innocently, your fingers trailing up the length of him, “about distracting me?”

When you looked back up at Jake, his eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling slowly, deliberate, like he was holding his breath. 

Sweet man. 

You leaned back up to kiss him gently, waiting for him to kiss you back. It took only a moment, and you bit back a moan at the taste of yourself on his lips. You kissed him softly for a minute, gentle lips, gentle tastes, coaxing. When you pulled back, Jake’s lashes fluttered before he opened his eyes to look at you. 

“I don’t know,” you lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I think I’d be pretty distracted if I were choking on your dick, Jake.”

“Jesus,” Jake whispered, and his hips bucked into your touch. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to–”

You licked your lips, his words from earlier coming back to you. “Nothing ‘have to’ about something I’ve been dreaming about for months.”

Jake surged forward, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you to him. You tasted his longing in this kiss, the tight reins he held himself in check with, and how desperately he wanted to give them to you, if only for a moment. You wanted that, and maybe for a little longer. So you kissed him for a moment more, then slid off the couch, settling between his knees like before, but this time, he stayed with his back against the back of the couch, and you were on the ground. 

“Wait,” he said, leaning over to grab a pillow, and gesturing for you to use it under your knees.  

Forget rolling your eyes or pinching him, did you want to marry him?

You shook the thought out of your head, settling on the cushion and reaching up to help Jake slide the pajama pants down. He hooked his boxer briefs along with them, and once they slid past his hips, his cock sprang free. 

“Holy fuck, Seresin,” you whispered, looking up at his face. Jake shrugged, a kind of bashful you hadn’t seen him before. One of his hands fisted his cock loosely, like he needed something to do, and you reached up to pry his fingers away. 

No wonder he walked around like he did. 

As you wrapped your hands around him, replacing his fingers, you couldn’t deny a fresh wave of arousal washed over you. His wasn’t the longest dick you’d seen, but he was thick, a dusty rose color that you’d kill for a lipstick match of—which just made you think of why you were waiting so long to get him in your mouth. 

But he’d teased you, and when you glanced up at Jake, his hands clenched at his sides, his stomach tight, you figured he was due for a taste of his own medicine. 

You kissed up his thighs slowly, loving the contrast of wiry hair over smooth skin, and when you got to his cock, you let out a warm breath over the tip. As you watched, a smooth drop of precum appeared at the edge of his cock, and you frowned in mock sympathy, knowing how worked up he must’ve been from finishing you, while denying himself. 

“Bet you’d beg something pretty yourself, Jake,” you teased softly, licking at the drop of moisture and pulling his salty taste back into your mouth. You hummed, immediately salivating for more, but Jake’s hips jerked up as he choked in a breath.

“Darlin’...” he said, his voice low, and you had mercy on him, not needing to hear the words to know how badly he wanted this. 

“Good thing I’m nicer than you, hmm?” you asked, before you licked at him again. 

Jake’s head fell back limply as you tongued his tip, teasing the sensitive head before you licked up the length of him. This was supposed to be for him, but as you were here, you were lost in the exploration of him—the gorgeous weight of him, the musky scent of him, the rich taste, and the sounds he was making. 

You kind of loved how quiet he was being, when it was clearly costing him dearly. 

It meant that when he did burst, it was going to be loud, and you wanted that break. You kissed your way lightly back to his tip, before opening your mouth and pulling him in. 

You’d been joking earlier, about it being distracting, but fuck. The ache to your jaw was immediate, your mouth open as wide as it could to accommodate his thickness. But it felt so good, deeply satisfying, to be able to hold him like this. Warm and thick in your mouth, stretching you—you moaned around him, imagining him filling you. You hollowed your cheeks lightly, sucking, and Jake groaned above you. 

There it was. 

You pushed yourself deeper onto him, holding your breath and fighting your gag reflex, and Jake’s hands shot out to hold the back of your head, his breath a low moan that was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard. 

You clenched your thighs together, the sound of him and the weight of him had you feeling so empty, while you knew you were physically stretching to your limits. You pulled off of him, a trail of saliva falling from between your lips and his tip, and Jake swore softly at the sight. 

“That mouth, baby,” he groaned, and you felt his thumb trace your lips, smearing your spit across it. You opened your mouth, holding out your tongue and Jake groaned again, feeding his cock back into your mouth.

You felt like he could see straight through you.

That was how it felt, his eyes boring into you as his cock stretched your jaw and his hips pressed slowly deeper. Your nostrils flared and your eyes were streaming again, but you wanted this, wanted him, wanted him to find his release in you, as you had in him. You couldn’t take him all the way down your throat, not now, although you relished the idea of training, so you found a rhythm that seemed to work for both of you. 

Jake’s hips rose slightly to meet you, as you bobbed your head up and down his length, alternating sucking and swirling your tongue over his tip. Your other hands stroked the part of him that you couldn’t fit, squeezing and pulling and you heard Jake’s breathing getting heavier. You were lightheaded, overwhelmed by him, but you couldn’t stop, not for something as simple as air. 

The stretch of him was so good, unrelenting and perfect, and the steadiness with which he held himself in check, it felt like a promise. It made your core ache, throbbing and empty, but you reached up to play with his balls. One of your hands cupped him lightly and then Jake was pulling you off of him. 

You choked at the sudden influx of air as Jake set you back on your thighs, his hands smoothing over your face as he checked you were okay. You couldn’t remember a time you’d felt better, lightheaded and dreamy, but you nodded obediently in answer to the unspoken question, and Jake pulled you to standing. You weren’t sure where he was taking you, but you knew with absolute certainty that you’d follow him.

Mercifully, it was just around the couch, and when you understood his plan, you whimpered slightly, hoping you could take it. You braced your forearms on the armrest of the coach, rocking back on your hips, presenting your ass to him, and Jake was already behind you, covering you. His long arms draped over yours, pressing you into the couch, even as his knee worked between your thighs, spreading your legs. You moaned when you felt his cock slap against your thighs, and one of Jake’s hands fell to between your legs to cup your cunt. 

“Oh, baby,” he whispered, voice somehow both rough and awed. “Is this new? You work yourself up, getting me off?”

You meant to say ‘obviously, asshole’, or ‘as if you didn’t know it’, but what came out was a truly pathetic, “Jake, please…”

He chuckled, his body stretched over yours, and the sound broke off when he guided his cock towards your core. 

“Honey, you’re so wet and warm, fuck. Need to be in you, baby, need to feel this tight cunt—”

“Do it already,” you cried, rewarded by another deep laugh from Jake, and then you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, because that thick cock was pushing into you. 

It was a good thing he was holding you up. 

Your body was shaking to accommodate him, already loosened from your orgasms and his fingers, but the stretch still bordered on painful, and you dropped your head to your forearms as he pushed into you. You weren’t doing anything, you were simply there, letting him fuck into you slowly, and you couldn’t think of anywhere better to be. 

“Fuck, honey, you’re so tight,” Jake groaned, and you knew he was trying to go slow, but that didn’t make the stretch any more attainable.

“Need you,” you managed. “Please, Jake, want to be full—”

His hips slammed forward and you cried out as he bottomed out into you. 

You felt impaled, you felt him in your throat, you felt like this was everything you could want and you trembled but held him in you. You felt full, and it was so, so good.  

“Honey,” Jake gritted, “I’ve got to move, but I need to know you’re okay.”

“I’m good,” you whispered, “let me feel you.”

He groaned, another gorgeous iteration of that sound, and when he pulled back, you clawed at the edge of the couch. It was like he was shifting your center of gravity, but the pull was re-orienting. You had no choice but to surrender to it. 

Your whole universe was balanced on the edge of the sofa. 

Jake’s thick cock, stuffing you. Jake’s strong chest, pressed against your back, his arms holding you up, pulling you to him. Jake’s sweat, dripping off of him and onto you, sweet and sticky and heady. The pull and push of him, overwhelming and deep, remaking you. 

You weren’t going to cum from this; it was too much, but it was too good to stop. You’d already had yours, and you could hear how good it was for Jake, could feel it in the tight clench of his hands and the short length of his thrusts. 

Jake groaned, a throaty sound that jolted through you as he pulled you back onto his dick.

“Sweetheart you feel so good…is this what we’ve been missing out on? This tight as fuck cunt, that I can just feel clenching around me? Touch yourself, honey, I need to feel you come again, want to feel you come on my cock.”

You couldn’t be sure if you were crying or babbling, but when Jake told you to play with yourself, you summoned your boneless limbs to do as he asked. 

When your fingers brushed your clit, you immediately pulled back; it was too much. 

“I can’t,” you gasped, hands falling back to brace against the couch. “It’s too much, Jake, I can’t–”

“Poor baby,” Jake gritted, and one of his hands smoothed down your back before dipping around to your stomach and finding his way to your clit. Your knees buckled and your hips jerked away from his hand, but a moment later you were pressing into him, needing the perfect pain of his touch. 

“Honey, you’re doing so good,” Jake’s voice was tight. “God, you feel unreal, clenching down on me like that. Are you gonna cum again? Is this pussy going to cum for me?” 

“Jake,” you sobbed, his name the only prayer you could manage.

“That’s it, baby,” he soothed, his touch gentling, even as his hips sped up. “I’m almost there; I know you are too. Where can I come, honey, where do you want me–”

“Jake,” you moaned, your head thrashing from side to side. It was too much, it wasn’t enough, but you knew you needed him. “In me…please..Jake...”

“Holy fuck,” Jake groaned. “Baby, are you sure I–”

You bucked back into him, the thought of losing his heat and his presence nearly unbearable. “Need you,” you whimpered. “Jake, please–”

“I’m right here,” Jake’s hips pistoned impossibly faster. “Fuck, I’m here, I’ve got you. Shit, honey, you feel so good, you’re gonna make me cum, baby, please–”

He ground his hips deep into you and rolled his fingers over your clit once, twice, and you shattered. Your legs gave out and you felt Jake grunt as he caught you, his hips pounding into you a couple more times and he stilled with another beautiful moan as he pumped his release into you. You felt him, hot and pulsing inside of you, and you wanted to curl up into that feeling forever—warm, full, safe. 

Jake summoned some kind of strength as he turned the both of you, him settling onto the ground and you on his lap, your cunt clenching around him, like you still couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving. You turned into his chest, and Jake wrapped his arms around you, cradling you, somehow knowing how intense that had been and that you needed the warmth of his chest before you could come back down. 

You were shaking, incredibly exhausted but deeply satisfied. And as you drifted back, you became aware of the tangible things around you—Jake’s chest hair prickling your face. Stranger Things still playing, on the TV. The cool air in the room around you, the sticky remains between your thighs. 

You lifted your head to find Jake looking down at you, his expression careful, like he was worried what he’d see. Your eyes closed again, and you managed a smile before you turned your face into his chest again, pressing a kiss to whatever was closest. His hands were locked around your back, but you could feel his thumb brushing over your skin, lightly. And it was wild, that that was what had started this all, and if you’d had the energy for it, you would’ve laughed. 

You could deal with the repercussions later, what this meant for your roommate situation, if your thigh was any worse for wear, any of that. Because that motion, that comforting gesture that Jake didn’t even seem to be aware he was doing—that meant that this was always where you were gonna end up. 

//

tagging: @bradshawsbitch @callsign-fangirl @laracrofted @datemephoenix @mandylove1000 @withahappyrefrain @gigisimsonmars @babyonboardfloyd @blue-aconite @mxgyver @hangmanbrainrot @lt-bradshaw @wildbornsiren @fuckyeahhangman @double-j @sebsxphia @javihoney @jadore-andor @teacupsandtopgun @thedroneranger

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA/WIBTA for checking up on my abusive ex's current partner?

Everyone involved here is in our mid 20s and knew each other in real life.

🎑🎑🎑

I recently broke up with and then cut off my ex, for a whole realm of reasons that I won't get graphic about, including but not limited to emotional manipulation, borderline assault, faking a medical scare, threats against my life, endangerment, stalking, etc. The relationship was quite honestly pretty traumatic and it put me in a bad mental place that I'm only just now, months later, starting to crawl back out of with the help of therapy and a good support network. My Ex had another partner, who would really go to the ends of the Earth to defend my Ex. They were together for far longer than me and my ex (a few years or longer), and the two of them live together. When I was dating my ex, I got the vibe that the two of them were on shaky ground, but I had mostly chalked that up to me being in the picture and causing some tension, because they had apparently never fought and had been together for a long time beforehand. My Ex would also try to subtly pit the two of us against each other a lot, and as a result we weren't really friends, and any time the two of us would voice similar concerns my Ex would make a big deal about us "ganging up" on them, so we typically didn't talk about our dirty laundry with each other. When me and my Ex parted ways, even before we cut each other off completely, said partner blocked me completely and made it very clear that I was not to ever contact them, and I likewise blocked them. Looking back on shit, I feel really bad about how I treated my Ex's partner. For a while I continued to receive messages from them (from sockpuppet accounts, but I knew it to be them) defending my Ex after I cut them both off, but these messages always felt a little off, like they were defending my Ex to themselves more than they were to me. Eventually I caved and figured that if they were content violating my boundaries to check up on me and keep sending me messages, I was in my right to check up on them. So I did. Apparently my Ex and this partner are still going through a rough patch, because the partner has been posting a lot of personal accounts of abuse strikingly similar to what I went through, alongside what seems to be sexual coercion as well. I feel disgusted, and part of me wants to reach out, but part of me knows it wouldn't do any good right now because they're still very defensive of my Ex, and they kind of see me just as a blatant villain who just hates my Ex. But at this point, I know I'll probably keep checking in periodically, mostly because I feel guilty for how I treated this person and I also know that they have NO support network outside of their current (abusive) relationship. I also just wanna make sure this person doesn't off themselves or something, really, and I want to be prepared to jump in if I need to. I know this "isn't my problem" but I'm probably taking it upon myself anyway all things considered. So, with that said, does that make me the asshole? Am I being a piece of shit for checking this person's socials after they blocked me, even though they did the same to me? etc.

[toastbastard]

I’ve been thinking a lot about how all of the relationships/couples in 911 who got together over the course of the show have deeply developed characters on both sides of the partnership. Bobby and Athena are both main characters, and they are “the one” for each other. Same with Chimney and Maddie. I don’t fully consider Maddie a main character, because she doesn’t have a “begins” episode, but on the other hand, we have gotten more than one multiple-episode storylines surrounding her. My point is, with Bobby and Athena, you cannot remove either character easily and have the story continue on the same way. The same goes for Maddie and Chimney. There would be consequences, fallout, and it would alter the story in major ways. Maddie and Chimney (if i remember correctly) went through a rough patch, but neither were written off the show because they are characters in their own right, not just a main characters partner.

I have more thoughts but i’m putting a cut here to save you from having to read if if you don’t want to

Buck has been in the most relationships, which is meant show he’s young and not ready to settle down. His first relationship was Abby, and she’s kind of the exception to his usual pattern of one-dimensional love interest. She had a storyline, and it was rather compelling, she was pretty much the main character of season 1. However, when push came to shove, she was written off, and her absence, while deeply affecting Buck, does not alter the course of the show in any major way. The overall format of the show does not change, and we aren’t missing a perspective in the story.

After Abby, Bucks relationships start to become very one-sided in terms of development. Ali is barely memorable. She was very easily dropped from the story with no consequences, barely even any for Buck.

Taylor is an interesting case, because while she definitely was not a main character, she definitely had her own personality, desires, wants, fears, and needs. She was also a character from earlier in the show who they brought back later I think they tried to dig deeper into her as a character, and I honestly think she could have stuck around after her and Buck broke up because I think she would be a fun character to have pop in every once in a while. She has her own distinct purpose in the story, however, the show can still go on without her. I actually did like Taylor as a character, and her and Buck were cute together sometimes, but they were so obviously not meant for each other

Natalia is not really worth mentioning. We know nothing about her other than her career (a pattern with Bucks partners). The relationship was very short lived.

Now we get to Tommy. I will say Tommy is hard to judge just yet because him and Buck are very new. He is also a character from the past that has been brought back. We don’t know a whole lot about him, other than he used to be in the 118, Buck likely replaced him when he left, he was in the army, and he has a cool job (shocker!). Him and Buck seem sweet together, but i’d say we’ve gotten about as much content of them being a couple as we did with Ali and Natalia combined. However, he does serve a purpose in the story which is to help Buck to discover himself. Whether he will be more than that is still up in the air. I’m not saying he’s just a plot device, I do like this arc that they’re doing, I just haven’t seen anything yet to show that he’s a character in his own right and not just Bucks newest fling.

Now for Eddie. His first relationship is not really an exception to the established pattern. We learn about Shannon in the past tense, and when they get back together briefly, we still know very little about her. We know that on paper her and Eddie are married, that she has or had a sick mother, that her and Eddie were teen/YOUNG parents, and that her and Eddie have a very rocky relationship and they only work well together when they’re having sex. She dies, which, while it is definitely a plot line, and she does haunt Eddie’s life all the way up to the current season, the loss of her doesn’t alter the way the show plays out.

Then we have Ana. We know her job (duh), that she’s latina/hispanic, that she’s a teacher at Christopher’s school and later is a principal. I honestly think she was a sweetheart, and just a kind soul. I think that she deserved a little bit better than Eddie treated her, and he clearly wasn’t ready for the level of relationship they became. Still, she’s not a character that stands on her own. Take Eddie and Chris away, she doesn’t have a story of her own.

Then there’s Marisol. Marisol honestly is the most one dimensional girlfriend character. We actually don’t even know her job (this is actually shocking), we do know she used to be a nun and Eddie feels weird about it, and shes shown to get along with Chris. Other than that, she’s kinda nothing.

Kim is the last one. Literally all we know about Kim is that shes identical to Shannon and she works at a store. I am interested to see how the Kim thing plays out because I think it’s an interesting extension of Shannon’s ghost kind of following Eddie around.

The only partner of a main character who isn’t a “main character” outside of Buck and Eddie’s relationships is Karen. However, her and hen were together before the show started, and we have gotten several deep dives into their relationship including a “begins” episode dedicated to them, so I can conclusively say that Karen doesn’t fit into the pattern.

To simply, think of 911 as a house on stilts. You have all the main characters as a stilt or a support beam holding that house up. If Athena and Bobby were to break up, and Bobby were to be written off the show in a Ali/Taylor/Marisol fashion, not only would it be a horrible choice, but the house that is 911 would crash down. On the flip side, if you take away Tommy, that’s like taking away the door. Yeah, now the house is not really functional, but it’s a much easier fix than building a whole new house. The writers of the show have a habit of not putting any effort into Buck and Eddie’s partners. It’s so obvious from the audience perspective when you look back on it, that none of those relationships were meant to last. They do a horrible job at hiding how temporary they are.

If you read this far into my ramblings, I’m sorry. You didn’t have to do that. you get a gold star. i’ll give it to you later i promise.

[softspace-fics]

Lost

⚠️ THIS IS NOT A AGE-RE POST. THIS IS A DARK POST. PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION, DONT READ IF WARNINGS TRIGGER YOU⚠️

A/N - I had a honestly really bad mental day at school and I'm already super exhausted. I ended up involuntarily regressing in my math class and I sit in the front of the class. My old CG doesn't talk to me much anymore so I don't have anyone to reach out to when involuntary happens so I wrote Stucky x male!reader. This one's kinda darker due to my mental space but I'm hoping to make a new agere one here soon!

Masterlist - All my work!

Please let me know if you guys would be interested in a part two?

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️: Mentions of violence blood, sewing skin, passing out, being lost with no contact, mature language (cussing), Steve and bucky being worried over reader, reader is mentioned to be a victim of hydra, please let me know if I missed any!!

__________

It was known that you, Bucky, and Steve had started dating about a year ago. They had asked you to join their couple after you had been living in the tower for a while. You happily said yes, and from then on it was pretty easy.

It wasn’t common that you would be sent on the same missions as the other two due to different skill sets, but you were happy when you did. When you couldn’t go with them, you were happy when they came home.

You eventually got sent on a solo mission that was only supposed to last 3 months. You lost contact with anyone on your home side about halfway through causing it to extend to about 5 months. You only survived based on pure instinct and eventually finding a place to hijack and call for help.

Once returning from the extremely rough mission, where your battle and affairs were way harder and longer than you thought, you headed to your room. You still had your own just by design, to make sure you had a place if needed. This is where you mainly stayed. You sometimes crashed with Bucky or Steve, but not being in your own room and space sometimes made it hard to sleep. The days you had come home from a mission or from a quest and you hid in your room until hours or even days later, Bucky and Steve worried.

They weren't sure if it was something you preferred for after missions, or if you didn’t feel safe with them. Even in the rarity that it happened, it sent aches to their hearts. You were a part of them, this meant that those times after missions where everything is too much, they were supposed to be there with you, and they couldn't be.

The day you finally came home from the solo mission and found them on the couch cuddled up absolutely sound asleep, you smiled, glad to see them getting their well-deserved rest. After staring at them for maybe a second too long, you eventually sluggishly drag yourself to your room, throwing your items on your bed and heading to your bathroom to attend to your wounds.

It wasn’t anything horrible, a few cuts and gashes. Possible minor grazing by a bullet. Anything you got in the beginning of the mission had practically healed itself. What you had now wasn't anything you hadn’t fixed up before. You got into the shower, carefully washing off the blood, the dirt, and the disgusting grim. Your emotions begin to creep up, as the adrenaline rushes away, and the water takes you to a different place in your head.

You watch as the blood circles the drain. The aches of your joints and the stinging of water getting in your wounds, slowly pulling you back to reality. You climb out of the shower a little unsteadily and throw on some sweatpants. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you sigh before grabbing some gauze and skin sewing supplies, not excited for the pain you have to inflict on yourself.

Mid-second sewing patch, a knock on your bathroom door pulls you from the daze of pain you're in. You turn around and unlock the door before turning back to the mirror to watch as you continue to sew.

“Come in.” You say loud enough to make it through the solid wood door.

“No one told us you had been found, when did you get- Oh my god (Y/n)! What happened to you?” Steves worried tone booms through the bathroom.

You look up to meet his stunned gaze in the mirror, a look of almost confusion crossing your face in place of the dull one before. You didn’t normally let others in when you were cleaning your wounds, Steve being the first to see your process of sewing your own flesh together and putting gauze lazily around it.

“Huh? Oh just, ya know, battle?” You reply before attempting to finish off the wound you’d been working on when he walked in. You just wanted to go sleep. The minimal amounts of sleep you got due to needing to survive catching up to you.

“I heard you yell- holy shit? (Y/N) the fuck?” Bucky's voice suddenly came from behind. His voice grew with concern as he spoke.

“Your home? Why didn’t you get us? What the hell happened to you while you were lost? We thought you died!”

You finish off the wound before turning to your two boyfriends, bewilderment flowing through your veins. You just didn’t understand why they were so worried about your wounds or even just about you. They weren’t the worst you had gotten, by far. You could easily finish the last one or two and throw on some gauze and finally go sleep. You were too tired to understand why they were so concerned.

“Why are you looking at us like we’re speaking foreignly..? Your borderline shredded and there's...” Steve's voice trails off, the mention of your numerous other scars burning through your head.

“Is that why you're both looking at me like there’s something wrong with me? I know my scars aren’t pretty- Please go.” You look away from them, turning to grab your sewing needle again before a hand stops you, making you look back at them.

“No, handsome. That's not why we're looking at you like anything. We’re concerned. We were asleep on the couch when you got home, and you didn’t wake us up even though you were lost for months. You're so wounded that it's hard to see anywhere that's not hurt. Some of the wounds on your back need sewn up too. When we woke up, Tony told us you had been home for 4 hours. You're standing in here like a zombie on a mission to barely patch yourself up.” Bucky gently takes the sewing kit from you before pulling you to sit on the lid of the toilet.

“It’s not that bad... I promise it's been worse before. You guys were asleep, I didn't want to bother you.” you mumble under your breath, you don’t even sound like you believe yourself.

Steve crouches in front of you, gently cupping your cheeks. Your eyes lazily focus on his, your body’s energy crashing fast.

“Baby let us help. You look like you could pass out any second. How long have you been actively bleeding?” Steve gently rubs his thumbs on your cheek, attempting to keep you awake.

“What day is it?” You joke quietly, smiling softly.

“I honestly don't know how long. I feel like I was only home for maybe an hour. I just want to get sewn up please. I just want to sleep; I haven’t slept in days.”

Bucky and Steve exchange extremely concerned looks. The hell was this mission that ended up with you getting lost and coming home looking like this. Why didn’t you wake them up? Why didn’t they even get a call from Fury about your arrival?

Bucky and Steve use teamwork to get you sewn up as much as possible before they help you climb into your bed. The moment you're in your bed it's almost as if a switch was flicked. You were completely asleep, the only reason they didn't think you were dead was your breathing.

“Steve... The hell did they do to him?” Bucky quietly mumbles, turning to the just as concerned soldier.

“I don’t know. I’m torn between staying here until they wake up or calling Fury to figure out what the hell, they did to him and how they hell they lost him...” Steve glances to bucky before his eyes settle back on you.

The next time you wake up, you groggily sit up. Pain courses through your entire body, but you shrug it off before you feel movement next to you and see Bucky shirtless, slowly waking up.

“(Y/N)?” Bucky turns to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

“How long have I been asleep Buck?” Was your first question.

“3 days. Banner came and gave you IV fluids to keep your vitals steady while you slept. The hell did they do to you baby?” Bucky sits up next to you before he softly cups your cheeks. He slowly scans all of your wounds, and then softly kisses your lips. When he pulls away, he softly sighs contently, hearing your voice helping settle the pure anxiety coursing through his veins mildly.

“Hey how is he- Oh my god you're finally awake.” Steve walks in, quickly crossing the room to your side.

“How do you feel? Are you doing okay?”

“I’m okay Steve, just confused. I'm just disoriented from sleeping for so long.” You smile at Steve before slowly laying your head on Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky carefully moves you to his lap, just like he did to Steve when they were kids, and he was sick or ended up in another alley fight.

“I bet its more than just the sleep, sweets.” Steve softly rubs the part of your arm that's not injured, keeping his eyes on you. His heart aches so much for you.

“Handsome, I really need you to tell us who and what did this to you? Why do you do your own medical procedures? What has happened to you that made you this way?” Bucky slowly asks again, kissing your forehead and caressing your cheek.

You look over at Steve who just slowly nods, giving you a sign that he wants to know too.

It's time to explain your time in hydra, and what this mission truly was.

~~

Part two

[yesimwriting]

Final Girl (Part 6)

A/n your comments, reblogs, and likes have helped me through this rough patch immensely :)) not to be pushy but,, comments really make my day :)

Series Summary: Y/n can’t believe that she has to leave the only home she’s ever known just because her mom’s latest boyfriend has a house in some town in California. Just as she’s starting to think that Woodsboro might not be that bad, something life altering happens after she agrees to sleep over at  Becker’s house. Now her name is practically synonymous with Ghostface’s. 

Chapter Summary: The aftermath of Ghostface’s phone call leaves Y/n a little reliant on some good friends. 

Final Girl Series Masterlist  (updated parts 1 - 9 and extras)

----

Billy’s breathing doesn’t reveal enough about what he’s feeling, but considering how silent the two of us have been, I have absolutely nothing else to go off of. 

I should leave him alone, I stomped on his foot, locked him outside while a murderer was watching us, threatened him with a knife, and accused him of being a murderer. It’s a miracle that he doesn’t hate me, I really shouldn’t push. 

If it wasn’t for Billy, I don’t think I would have gotten through the aftermath of the phone call. He convinced me that the police wouldn’t care that I had been drinking and when I couldn’t form the words, he gave them the information over the phone. He also helped me call my mom. 

When Dewey finally got to the house, he seemed a little more like an older brother asking me what happened with genuine care and compassion instead of some kind of officer desperate for answers. It was nice, the kind of energy and patience I needed. He even offered to take me to his house so I could sleep over with Tatum, but remembering how drunk she was at the party, I had a feeling she might not be coming home. I don’t know what she told her parents and I really don’t want to get her in trouble or interrupt her time with Stu (since he threw such a hissy fit this morning), so I insisted I could tough it out. Dewey didn’t seem convinced until Billy offered to stay the night, just so I wouldn’t be alone. 

The offer comforted me as much as it annoyed me. All I wanted was to prove that I didn’t need anyone, and now Billy’s weird group date night party thing has been cut short because of me. Technically, it’s not my fault. It’s not like I asked some murderer to call me, and he’s trying to be nice. Or at least, I think he is. And it’s not like he was the one complaining about me today, he even tried making me feel better by saying he’d take me to the bookstore tomorrow. 

Despite knowing all of this, my awkward and uncomfortable emotions that have been amplified by both panic and alcohol would have had me sending Billy home if I had the chance. But Billy’s offer was the only thing that seemed to get Dewey to relax and before he left he made both of us promise that we’d stay put and keep a phone on us in case of emergency. I couldn’t kick Billy out after that, not with the way Dewey physically eased. 

I guess it’s fair. Two is always better than one in these kinds of things, that’s why splitting up in a scary movie is always a bad idea. And if I had to make a cursory assumption about Billy’s physical appearance, he seems kind of strong, I guess. Not that I’ve ever paid attention to his physique or anything. And it’s not like he’s going fight off a killer, or whatever. But Dewey seemed to be comforted by the idea, and after tonight, if I have to choose between potentially bothering Billy and potentially bothering Stu by stealing Tate from him... 

And, if I’m being completely honest, the thought of being alone is absolutely nauseating. Before leaving, my mom always drills me on self defense. The whole ‘gun’s in the safe’ talk. Honestly, I’m pretty sure the fact that my mom’s been taking me to the shooting range since I was legally old enough to in Texas is the only reason she felt comfortable leaving me alone. But I’ve been drinking, and shooting at a target is nothing compared to shooting at a person. 

Also, unfortunately, I’ve come to realization that Billy’s presence is comforting. He lingers, sometimes at a distance, sometimes close. Like a cat.

“What are you thinking about?” It’s a fair question, I guess. We’ve both been through some stuff tonight, and we’re both tense, but it’s not like we can both sit at an awkward distance from each other and stare off into space until morning. 

Not trusting myself to not stare at him, I drop my gaze from the wall and onto my lap. My mind is racing a mile a minute, and a weird combination of dread, panic, and guilt have been drowning out all rational thoughts since Dewey left, but none of that feels like the right thing to say, so I go with the literal answer. “Nothing much, just that you’re kind of like the cat my mom never let me get.” 

He lets out a breath that could be annoyed or amused. I’m too much of a coward to look up at him and check. “You’re not that predictable.” 

His tone is so specific it takes a second to sink in. The words came out low and cautious, like he was admitting some kind of weakness he didn’t expect himself to express. But they also felt a little like shy praise.

 “Thanks, I guess, weirdo.” Finally looking up at him, I realize that he’s already looking at me. “Thought I was easy to read.” 

Billy tilts his head downwards, a strand of hair falling across his face. “You can’t hide what you’re feeling, but that doesn’t make me a mind reader.” 

Did Billy move closer to me at some point and I just didn’t notice? Or did...I somehow move? “That was a very polite way of telling me that I say weird things.” 

“No,” if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was smiling, “I meant it in a good way. It’s...refreshing.” Billy pauses, eyebrows just barely drawing together like he’s debating something, “You’re refreshing.” 

The admission comes out almost soft. I grin at his awkward wording. “Keeping you on your toes, just how I like it.” 

My bad joke lands even though Billy tries to hide his slight smile behind a controlled smirk. “One minute you’re accusing me of murder and the next you’re making jokes. I’m definitely on my toes.” 

I can’t tell if the switch is meant to be lighthearted, but I react regardless. Turning my head away, I clasp a hand over my mouth a little too dramatically. “I am so so sorry about that. Did I apologize for--” 

“Yes,” he cuts me off easily, “Relax, I was joking, and I get that you were scared and Stu told me that Noel said Casey’s name in front of you.” Billy hesitates, voice dropping slightly, “And I know that I said the wrong thing, but it was a lot to know that you thought I could do something like that to you.” 

Guilt feels like a spear cutting through me. All of my other feelings are small in comparison. One conversation with someone that only knows surface level Billy and that’s all it took for me to get that freaked out? And right after I started wondering if Stu could have done it just because he happened to date Casey at one point? 

Maybe it was the alcohol or the desperation to have some sense of closure. There’s a chance that I was just mad at them and my subconscious ran with that.

I let myself watch Billy openly. There’s a strange flicker of vulnerability adding a quality to his features that makes him feel less sharp. If I squint, it’s similar to the way he looked when he mentioned his mom earlier.

That strand of hair is still out of place, just barely brushing against the tip of his nose. I don’t know what gets my hand to move, but while I’m imagining how satisfying it’d be to have that strand pushed back into place, my arm extends. My movements are slow as I tuck his hair behind his ear. 

Billy lets me, only reacting to wrap long fingers around my wrist once I’ve accomplished my goal. There’s a lot I could say about my down spiral. I could tell him that he was my second suspect during a 10 minute trail down a dark rabbit hole. I could tell him that I was so out of it that I wanted to go to Casey’s house alone at night while drunk. 

Instead I say, “I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” It’s the truth, and somehow it feels like the only thing worth saying. 

He holds my gaze for a little too long. With no warning, Billy moves my arm, pressing a quick kiss to the inside of my wrist. 

Ignoring the strange warmth that follows the gesture, I turn my head. “I was so out of it and desperate for answers I wanted to go to Casey’s house. You were right to make me go home.” With a self deprecating laugh, I pull my hand back. “I just wish I could’ve proven that I could go one night without having some sort of crisis.”

“I like your crises,” Billy says after a beat, “They end up making me look like a good guy and it’s nice to be needed every once in awhile.” 

I look over at him, glaring as he grins. His sudden lightheartedness is shocking, and a tiny bit infuriating, but not unwelcome. I like the way he gets when it’s just us or us and Stu. 

The thought of Stu hits me a little too hard. It’d be nice to know that things with Stu are okay. Plus I...begrudgingly kind of, maybe miss him a tiny bit.

Billy being around is great, but after tonight, it’d feel settling to have our trio all together and safe. 

Rolling my eyes, I adjust my position on the couch. “One, I don’t think you need me to make you look like a good guy, and two, I’d keep you around even if I was completely stable.” 

“Really?” There’s a bit of smugness behind the humor in his voice. “Keep me around?” 

I halfheartedly glare at him, shoving his arm. “Maybe I like you.”

“Maybe?” 

“Don’t make it weird.” 

He grabs my hand, squeezing it slightly. “You okay?” 

Ugh. Of course he’d notice that tiny shift. Billy’s so perceptive it’d unnerve me if he was anyone else. “If I admit something you have to promise me that you won’t tell anyone.”

“I can keep a secret.” 

It’s not exactly the assurance I wanted, because him being able to and willing to keep a secret are separate things. Something tells me not much goes unshared between him and Stu. “Is it weird I kinda miss Stu?” The admission is embarrassing, but it’s probably the least awkward thing I’ve said all night. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m still mad at him and he was a total asshole, but he’s like my asshole, y’know?” 

The corner of Billy’s mouth turns upwards. There’s something about his expression that I don’t understand, but it’s not a bad thing. “I get it.” He shifts slightly without letting go of my hand. “You should call him tomorrow, he’d like it more than he’d admit. Not a lot of people go out of their way to reach out to him first.”  

I’m not wasted or naive enough to not notice how intentional Billy’s final comment feels. I can see why he’d want Stu and I to make up sooner rather than later. No one likes it when their friends are fighting. I have half a mind to call him out on it, but decide against it. Sure, it might have been a point he kept to himself under different circumstances, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true.

It’s hard to picture Stu, who’s always so outgoing and himself as lonely or unwanted. He’s always throwing parties and included in things. But parties don’t necessarily mean a lot of friends. Anyone would be willing to spend a Saturday night drinking free alcohol in a parentless house. And it’s possible to feel like you’re not important while surrounded by a large friend group. Plus his parents are always gone. Two nights without my mom and I’m losing it, I can’t imagine what coming home to an empty house every day must feel like.

But it’s no excuse. It’s not like I’ll be mad at him forever, but it’s deserved for now. “I will when I feel a little better.” 

Billy pauses, thinking through what I just said. “He’ll cool off. It’s more about this week than you.” Right. His sister, his parents.

I must be more tipsy than I realized because I blurt out a question that I’ve managed to keep to myself for awhile, “What is the whole thing with his sister?”

A switch immediately flips. He doesn’t really move or do anything, but there’s a shift behind his eyes. A change so slight and certain I wouldn’t have noticed if it had felt any less harsh. I don’t know why, but I know that that was the wrong thing to say. I’m pushing us towards what’s considered unsteady territory.

“I-I just mean that I know they don’t get along because of that time at his house with the picture, remember? I’m not saying it’s anything, just that I--I don’t have any siblings, so for all I know all siblings are like that.” I scratch the back of my wrist, vaguely reflecting on that cliche expression about cats. “I-I have a step-sister, technically, and I can barely stand her and I only see her on holidays, so actual siblings must be...”  

He turns his head enough to watch my expression. There’s something about the draw of Billy’s eyebrows that eases me. Something in my jumble of words has intrigued him. “You have a step-sister?” 

Ugh. I think I’d rather him be mad at me. Shrugging, I answer honestly, “My dad got married when I was nine. His wife had a daughter that was ten.” 

“You don’t like them.” 

It’s not a question, but I can feel that he’s expecting some kind of elaboration from me. “Not particularly.” It’s not what he wants, but I’m not exactly chatty when it comes to my step family. Maybe that’s how Stu and Billy feel about the parents they live with. The thought leaves me more sympathetic than before. “It killed my mom.” 

“I didn’t ask about your mom, I asked about you.” 

Wiping my palms on the couch, I stare off at nothing in particular. There’s no nice way to summarize the whole step family thing. The competition, the terrorizing while adults weren’t looking, the feeling of being replaced. The feeling of knowing the kind of dad my dad would have been to me if he had just had me a little later.  There’s an anger there that’s hard for me to acknowledge.

“The whole thing with my dad’s fucked up, and I can’t talk about it without sounding fucked up, too.” My voice is both too harsh and too honest and I regret it instantly. “Sorry, that was a lot.” 

Billy’s quiet for a long moment, expression unreadable. “Fucked up doesn’t bother me.” 

He sounds so genuine and patient that I believe him wholeheartedly. I don’t think that’s a good thing, but I tell him everything regardless. My dad, the on and off addiction, locking myself in the bathroom while he dealt with withdrawals, the way he completely changed for Charlotte and her mother, and watching my mom fall apart for someone that never loved her as much as she loved him. And, for the first time ever, I don’t keep it just factual. I tell him how it all made me feel, even though it’s not pretty.

Drinking and emotional conversations never go well together. By the time I’m done with the story, my eyes are watery. Maybe I could have blinked the tears away and played them off in front of someone else, but Billy notices everything. I take a settling breath before gently wiping my thumb across the corner of my eyes.

 “...Sorry, this is stupid. I’m too old to get this upset over my dad and his family.” I’m too self conscious to look at him, so I stare at my lap instead. “It’s extra stupid, because my mom’s so great, she’s more than enough, but it’s always been just us, and sometimes that gets lonely. Especially now that she has someone else and I--” 

It’s ridiculous. I’m not jealous of my mom having a boyfriend, but I do miss the way things were before Wells. She’s never had a super serious boyfriend before, and it’s starting to feel like she’s getting more family and I’m not.

Billy’s arm moves around my shoulder. I don’t think twice about the gesture until he pulls me into his side. His strength is surprising, but his touch isn’t harsh or overwhelming. It’s actually kind of nice. After a second, I relax into the contact.

“You don’t need him.” His body is as rigid and tense as his voice. The change in mood is fleeting. Billy recovers so quickly I nearly get whiplash as he teasingly taps his knee against mine, “You do have someone else.” 

He watches me for a long second, dark eyes taking in every detail of my expression. Up close like this, there’s something nearly soft about his features. I can make out the individual hairs of his lashes and a faint touch of barely-there freckles beneath his left eye. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed the slope of his lips before. 

I don’t know if he finds what he’s looking for in my expression because all at once, his intensity retreats with the drop of his head. “Two someones,” it’s practically shy, “Stu might be an asshole that doesn’t think before speaking, but the good thing about him is that he’s always there.” 

The sincerity and obvious fondness  that’s just so thinly veiled I know better than to call him out on it leaves me warm in a different way. It clutches at my chest. 

“Maybe for you,” I hum, hoping that my tone lightens the mood, “But I don’t think Stu’s in the mood to be there for me.” 

Letting out a slight sigh that I can’t interpret, Billy rests his head against the back of the couch. He keeps his head turned in my direction. We’re close enough that this new angle doesn’t create any distance, it just changes things a little. His breaths just barely reach my lower cheek. 

“He’s just moody because of his parents and sister. They’re both in town at the same time maybe twice a year.” Sympathy’s fangs graze against me, ready to sink in. “He cares about you, you know that.” When I don’t react immediately, Billy continues, “You’d have to considering the way he babies you.” 

Did he just? Shock and embarrassment twist oddly in my chest, making it impossible to take a full breath. My scoff comes out too small as a result. “He. Does. Not.” 

The corner of Billy’s mouth turns upwards. Great. I’ve given away that he’s struck a nerve. “You let him.” 

It’s a second bullet wound. “What? I--he doesn’t try--I wouldn’t if--you’re just making stuff up.” 

Billy takes my stuttering and inability to decide where to look like he has all the time in the world. “He peels your oranges, angel.” 

“I don’t ask him to.” My answer escapes me too quickly, too defensively. Stu does peel my oranges, but he only dos that so he can make a joke about not minding getting his hands dirty. He also does it so he can steal as many orange slices as he wants. “I--I don’t, he does it because he has a whole bit about getting his hands dirty. That’s it.”

“He waits with you by your locker at the end of the day.” 

That is not the big deal Billy is making it out to me. Stu stands next to me while I sort through my books before going home and sometimes he’ll hold things for me for a second to make things easier...but that’s not babying me. 

I open my mouth to tell Billy all of that. Before I can get the words out, a realization that I could have gone my entire life without strikes me in the chest. Hard and fast enough to nearly knock the breath out of my chest. 

Because, yes, Stu peeling oranges for me and hanging out by my locker while I go through my backpack doesn’t add up to him babying me. But that paired with Stu walking me to our shared first period after homeroom because one time a super rude football player ran into me; Stu always offering to wait up with me on the phone after a bad dream; Stu caring about my class schedule more than he cares about his.

“That’s just being a friend.” Maybe that defense could have worked if I had managed to say it normally, but I can feel my own awkwardness. There’s no way that Billy didn’t pick up on it.

He’s enjoying this too much. “I’ve been friends with him for years and he’s never peeled an orange for me. Maybe it’s because I’m not as pretty as you.” 

Stu’s reputation for flirting often outshines Billy’s. I think that’s something Billy relies on, it lets him get away with a little more. Rolling my eyes instinctually, I move to shove Billy’s shoulder. 

My fingers have just barely grazed against the fabric of his shirt before Billy’s hand wraps around my wrist. He holds me there for a second, staring at where our skin meets. In a move so quick I barely notice it, Billy pulls me closer by my arm. 

His grip tightens in a way that feels instinctual. It doesn’t hurt, but there’s something almost panicked about it. Billy’s jaw seems to lock but I can’t convince myself that it’s not just the lighting. “You should go to bed.” 

The words feel strained by something I don’t get. I’m too lost to his proximity to care. He’s so warm and there’s a sense of safety radiating off of him that I can’t think to question his intensity. It’s too relieving, too comforting. I want closer. 

That realization is worse than what we were joking about earlier. That thought scares the shit out of me. It’s a sign that I should jump back. Get away. But I--

“Don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.”

He blinks. My reaction seems to ease him enough to let his hand relax. His fingers ghost down my forearm. “Should still go to bed. You need rest.”

I nod, thinking that that’s my cue to scoot back, but Billy’s still holding onto my arm. This close, the bags under his eyes seem so much more prominent. A tiny pinch of guilt flares through me. He’s the one that could have been murdered because I’m slowly going insane. “So do you.”

“Then go to bed so I can.” The correlation only somewhat makes sense.

Right. He’s staying over. “You can stay in my room and I’ll sleep in my mom and Wells’s.”

It feels awkward, but there’s not much else I can do. Despite the decent size of the house, the only guest room on the property was turned into my room. The other rooms are mainly storage that Wells hasn’t gotten around to cleaning out. I guess his grandparents and great grandparents were hoarders. Maybe that’s just what happens in family homes, the stuff that’s saved to be passed down just gets shoved into back closets and unused rooms.

“You don’t want to have another sleepover?” His slight smile reveals that he does want to fluster me. That should make it less effective, but I still struggle to hold his gaze.

I try to glare, but I really doubt it comes off right. “Not sure us falling asleep in the same bed because we were too drunk to think ahead counts.”

Billy gilts his head forward. The shift is small but still oddly noticeable. I guess that’s how it is when you’re this close. Any movement closer or farther is noticeable because it feels more significant. “You’re saying you need to be drunk to get into bed with me?”

It’s just cheesy enough to get me to laugh. “You know what I mean.”

At the somewhat serious answer, Billy straightens slightly. “I want to know that you’re there.” His words are so hushed, so unlike him in their closeness to nervousness that my heart stills. “That you’re okay.”

He’s regarding me with a sharpness that doesn’t fit the low way he’s speaking. I’m struck with the feeling that there’s another layer to what he’s asking me. I almost feel like I’m being tested. If he seemed any less vulnerable I’d question it.

“You don’t think Sid would...” I don’t even know what I’m asking. Am I asking if she’d mind? If she’d think that there was something weird about it?

“No.” Billy’s answer is quick and hard, leaving no room for argument. His fingers tighten around my forearm. The change is so quick it almost feels needy. It’s different than when Stu holds on a little too authoritatively. It’s more desperate and that makes it feel more volatile.

All at once, he softens again. His hold returns to bearable. Not quite as casual as before but no longer unsettling. “She wouldn’t. She’d understand.” He says it so simply, like he has absolutely no doubts. 

He’d know better than me, I guess. They’re the ones dating, which means Billy knows Sid’s boundaries about this stuff better than I do. Which means it is really up to me.

I don’t know what I want, but I know what I don’t. I can’t take anymore grief tonight, anymore worries or arguments. I also know that I don’t want to be alone and that latching onto Billy like this is the most peace I’ve felt all night. “O-okay.”

He exhales, something in him relaxing at my answer. “Okay.” Billy’s voice is more sure than mine. It’s comforting enough to cut through my uncertainty. “Let’s go to bed.” 

---- 

Rationally, I know that technically this is my second time having Billy stay in my room, but it feels a lot different without excessive alcohol. I’m not completely sober yet, I don’t think it’s physically possible to sober up that fast.

The call and panic definitely cut through my buzz, leaving me only with sluggishness that follows drinking. A tired that I can’t give into because of anxiety. 

Billy’s laying next to me, and from what I can tell, he’s breathing easily but I’m not convinced he’s asleep. Despite that, I can’t bring myself to even glance at him from the corner of my eyes. Billy has a way of noticing things like that no matter how subtle I try to be.

He moves, the hand that’s closest to mine brushes against the back of my palm. It’s likely an accident but the small rush of warmth that runs up my fingertips until it reaches my chest is so soothing it nearly gets me to ease. Or jump. Those two feelings are often hard to tell apart around him. 

“Can’t sleep?” 

He hasn’t moved any more so I remain just as still, eyes trained on the ceiling. “I’ll pass out eventually.”

“Might help if you close your eyes.” 

The way Billy just knows things would be scary if it wasn’t so annoying. “Wow, a crystal ball and a deck of cards and you could have your own booth at the fair.” 

Billy lets out a quiet laugh that’s meant to be a scoff. “The fair?” 

I roll my eyes before dutifully returning my gaze to the ceiling. “Come on, don’t tell me that there’s no fair here. It’s not like Woodsboro is some metropolitan, crowded--” 

“Sometimes I forget you’re from Texas and then you start talking about--” 

“Shut up.” 

He sighs in good humor again, his fingers stretching and brushing against my knuckles. “Then go to sleep.” 

If only it was that easy. Ever since what happened at Casey’s, sleep is more of enemy than an escape. When I don’t have dreams that make my stomach turn with guilt, my mind goes over everything that I did wrong. And when I’m spared from that, my thoughts panic over what I’m not sure I remember. 

Sometimes I think that doubting my mind is the worst of it and then the guilt doubles. At least I’m alive. I bet Casey would give anything to feel like she’s going crazy if it meant she could be alive. 

With no warning, Billy turns his hand, pressing fingers in between mine so naturally that I instinctually adjust so that we’re loosely holding hands. “Nothing’s going to happen to you.” 

Promises like that, promises that no one can guarantee, are the most gentle. They come from such good intentions. “Can I ask you something?” Before I can back out, I blurt out the important part, “And you’ll be honest? Promise you’ll be honest?” 

A small moment of silence followed by the squeezing of my palm. “I promise.” 

Slowly, I turn, pulling my hand away. Billy’s hold briefly tightens, but when I persist he lets go. He moves to face me after a second and when he sees that I’m now holding out my pinky, something about his expression softens. He covers his reaction with a pointed look meant to make fun of what I’m asking.

He links his pinky to mine. “You think this actually makes people not lie?” 

It’s a light comment, probably meant to help me shake my mood, so I ignore it. “Do you think I’m crazy?” He’s watching me in a way I can’t interpret. “Or going it?” 

“You’re hurting and you need time.” Billy’s answer isn’t careful or fragile or overly sweet like the sympathetic answers I’m used to. It’s straight forward and blunt enough to pass as honest. “You’re not crazy. You’re smart and that’s the problem.” I draw my eyebrows together. “Smart people always want answers but this isn’t about that. Answers won’t fix anything or bring anyone back.” 

I nod somberly, surprisingly relieved. When my mood doesn’t get better, Billy pulls my hand towards him by my pinky. He presses his lips to my knuckle quickly. It’s enough to make me crack a tired smile, which I guess was his goal. “Thank you.” 

“For telling you you’re not crazy after you accused me of murder?” 

Partially glaring at him, I answer, “Just thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” he mumbles, “Now go to sleep.” 

“You sound like a mother.” 

His lips press together briefly. “Like your mom has ever had to ask you to do anything twice.” 

That joke’s getting old. “I’m tired of the jokes. So I listen to my mom, she deserves the lack of stress.”

Billy hesitates, “She’s a good mom.” 

“It’s weird without her around.” My mom is the life of the house. She’s always on the phone with friends or playing music or yelling at the TV when characters on a TV show she likes do stupid things. “Quiet.” 

He drops his gaze towards our hands. Our pinkies are still together. “There are worse things than quiet.” His tone reminds me of the way he was when he mentioned his mom. It’s a flash of something wounded. “Quiet’s easier.” 

Another tally in a column about his home life. “What are you thinking about?” The question is a surprise for us both.

“My mom knew how to keep things quiet.” 

I must be in total shock because after a second I ask, “What happened?” His eyes snap up and I regret not swallowing my words. “Not that--I just--I know it’s just your dad and it wasn’t always just your dad.” It’s my turn to stare at our hands. “You don’t need to tell me. Honestly, I--I didn’t mean to ask.” 

He turns over my hand, something about the motion feels strained. Billy’s pointer finger traces patterns against my palm. “It’s fucked up.” 

“Fucked up doesn’t bother me.” My repetition of his earlier words is awkward and much less sure than the original.

Billy’s quiet for a second, an odd tension floating through the room. “Not much to tell. Some whore fucked my dad and my mom did what she had to. My dad didn’t take it too well.”  

Oh. His words hit me a little too hard. I don’t know if the story or the unexpected harshness is what gets to me. Before I can react, Billy places a hand on my shoulder. With no warning, he pushes me so that I’m laying flat against my bed. A tiny yelp escapes me, but Billy doesn’t move. “Now that we’ve done the whole deep dark secrets thing, go to sleep.”

His voice leaves no room for argument but his touch is harder to ignore. “You know the deep dark secrets thing is a major part of girl’s sleepovers. One minute everyone’s painting their nails and the next we’re all crying over our dads or moms or the messed up things we did in middle school.” 

“Go to sleep,” he sighs, hand that’s not pinning me down sliding downwards, just barely touching my hip.

I nod slowly, not trusting myself to speak again. Satisfied, Billy takes his time moving back to the position he was in. This time, he stays closer than he was before.

Hating myself for it a little, I break the comfortable silence, “Billy?” He huffs slightly, like I’ve woken him up after a deep sleep that only took him minutes to find. “If you ever want quiet and can’t get it anywhere you can come over.” I already regret this. “Not--not in a pity way, just a--just so you know, I guess.” 

He shifts closer, pulling my arm towards him. “Might end up moving in then.” 

His muffled words make me let out a partial laugh. “Should let you know it’s like a metaphorical quiet because half the time you can hear my mom talking on the phone to her friends or talking to the TV.” 

“Might have to rethink it then.” The edge in his voice is ruined by the slight smile that I can feel through his tone. 

Billy’s hold on my arm is an anchor I’ve gone too long without. Thoughtlessly, I move my free hand towards his back. My fingers brush against his skin gently. “Did you offer the same thing to your boyfriend?” 

It takes me longer than it should for me to realize what he’s talking about. “Noel?” His silence is enough of an answer. “No, I guess that means I like you more.” He stays quiet. “And he’s not my boyfriend. I just--” 

“Weren’t getting enough attention?” 

With a sigh, I let my hand rest on his back. “I can still kick you out.” He doesn’t move. “And for the record, I just...I thought it’d make me feel normal.” 

“Did he?” 

The question sits with me for longer than it should because I know the answer immediately. It sinks into my chest like a weight threatening to suffocate my lungs. “Not as much as you.” I shut my eyes as if that will save me from his reaction. “I’m going to sleep.” 

---- a few days later ----

“You fucking love it.” Stu makes no attempts to hide petty bitterness as he pulls a joint back to his lips. The whole point of smoking was to stop thinking about you, but weed doesn’t always work the way you want it. “At least admit it.” 

Billy lifts his head enough to reach over for the joint, taking it from Stu. “What’s there to love?” 

Stu sighs. “Fuck off.” Billy breathes in slowly, letting smoke fill his lungs. “You love that Y/n can’t do anything without you. That she lets you sleep in her room more than you sleep in yours.” 

“Just say you’re sorry, give her one of your looks, and say something about your parents.”

Dropping his head back, Stu frowns. “You remember how quick she was to go after some other guy. Like she didn’t give a shit.” Billy patiently watches Stu, noting the way tension continues to expand across Stu’s demeanor. “Even Casey used to--” 

“She gives a shit.” When Stu scoffs, Billy sits up a little more. “She does. Asks about you all the time and then makes me promise to not tell you.” 

There’s only the tiniest shift in Stu’s demeanor, but it’s a start. Your little spat has lasted longer than Stu thought it would, and with each day that you go without initiating conversation, the more the sting of silent rejection bubbles. Billy’s had to keep up with his moods, making sure that Stu’s feelings remain contained. 

“It’s cute,” Billy continues, “Like she has a crush she doesn’t know what to do with.” When Stu stays silent, Billy decides to keep going, “She likes you and she misses you. Use that.” 

“With the way Tatum’s always breathing down my neck now?” 

Maybe if Stu was in a better mood he’d make a joke about how even he can’t really blame Tatum. Stu’s been in a shitty mood for almost two weeks now, which means he hasn’t exactly been devoted. “I’ve got an idea that’ll get you alone with Y/n. No friends, no class, just you and her somewhere she can’t avoid you.” 

At that, Stu manages to crack a grin. “Sounds like my type of situation.” 

----

Taglist: Tags: @cole22ann @womenarecannibals @fand0mskullfa1ry @princessleah129 @i-amnotokaywiththis @fvcking-gxddess @suckmyass-things @im-better-than-your-newborn @michibuni @bigenargy @marli-lavellan @mushy-mushroom04 @neenieweenie @lone-ray @the-ruler-of-death @andthevillainshallrises 

[quitealotofsodapop]

Ok but what, exactly, are their reactions to baby Yubei? We know their general opinions but when Yellow Tusk and Peng are first released, there's this baby m9nkey jsut sitting in Azure's paws. A baby moneky that is apparently Wukong's blood daughter, they he had apparently carried. Had been carrying since he sealed them to begin with they soon learn

Azure is pretty much handed baby Yuebei by MK and Mei since he was the only adult around + MK was panicking at the loss of his mentor, dads, and Sandy. Azure figures out quickly from Yuebei's smell that she's Wukong's cub - he also smells Macaque on her, which surprises and disappoints him. The hut on FFM also gives him a clearer picture - many of Wukong's maternity clothes are still lying around the house, theres baby bottles, and a little sun and moon-themed nursery. All things that point towards his two former sworn brethern no longer being the same fighters he knew back then. And even worse, the King he often cared for loving another.

Yuebei's kidnapping was an unexpected, but welcome, addition to the plan. In Azure's palm held the greatest bargaining chip in all of the Heavens - the daughter of Sun Wukong. Containing many the same powers as her birth parent, and ones undiscovered yet.

When the MKrew escape the Scroll, Wukong is snarling like a beast at Azure until he sees that tiny puff of black fur held between his claws... his face goes pale and he drops to his knees like he did to the Jade Emperor millennia ago when his mate was threatened. He instinctively submits to ensure his cub's safety. It was no great feat for Azure to trap the Monkey King back into the Scroll after that (in the show it just took a snap of his fingers). The gang are less accomodating though - MK comes charging at the Brotherhood even as his body contorts painfully from his true monkey side breaking through. Yuebei is pretty much his adoptive baby sister, and he isn't going to let some creep take her as collateral!

Like in canon, their attempts to fight the Brotherhood are in vain. MK flies away screaming for his mentor and his fellow cub. Macaque hears his distress darn near across the country and comes running.

In the immediate aftermath of their release, Peng and Yellowtusk are mega confused why there's a baby monkey in Azure's hands rn?? Until they learn that it's the child of their "traitorous" former brother. Yellow Tusk's face drops, while Peng is amused by having the perfect the hostage. The elephant is the one to point out that the baby monkey can't be allowed to be near any of the fighting less she get seriously hurt (and they lose their hostage).

Azure likely has Yuebei trapped in her own Scroll column (a strangely hefty one he notes), for the time being, and releases her when he's fianlly sitting on the throne.

I'm honestly surprised that the Brotherhood didn't have a bigger reaction to Red Son - given that they likely never knew that their bro DBK had settled down and become a family man. Then again in this au, they don't get to have much of a chance to react.

Azure: "Demon Bull King. It's been many years-" DBK, sees Azure holding Yuebei hostage: "WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH OUR GODDAUGHTER!?" *immediate boss fight ensues*

Red Son ends up not just alerting the Celestial Realm about the Brotherhood's escape, but also tracks down Macaque to tell him exactly what happened to baby Yuebei. Macaque is understandably pissed, despite him and Wukong going through a rough patch. You better believe that the Warrior is seconds from beating down that palace door himself if it means Yuebei stays safe. But he has to focus on finding MK and Wukong rn first.

Macaque does lay it in to MK for a while though, not only out of anger for his poor judgement, but to force him to see his own hypocrisy.

Macaque: "Why would you give the baby to a stranger!? Why couldn't have you waited until I got back?! Or found DBK or the Vixen!?" MK: "I panicked ok!? I just wanted my family back!" Macaque: "I though you said on Camel Ridge you didn't have a family?" MK, still crying: "YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN! I'm just some... thing dumped here. I don't even know who created me!" Macaque, angry tears: "Neither do I! Do I cry about it? No! Because I have a troop! I have a mate! And by the gods, I have cubs of my own now!" Macaque: *pulls MK into a suffocating hug* "And like it or not, that includes you too bud." MK: *starts crying harder, like a little kid again*

Eventually the second fight with the Brotherhood becomes more of trying to stop Macaque from skinning the lion then and there, at least until he hands over Yuebei. Azure given them the choice; Yuebei's life - or the Jade Emperor's.

You can imagine what they choose. Nezha can't even disagree with their choice. (Nezha: "If he lays a claw upon her head, not even the Buddha could stop what I'd do to him.").

Cue MK and Macaque dipping into SWK's Scroll column to get their Monkey King back. And for both of them to have character-shaking revelations.

And ofc back in the Celestial Realm, Azure is sitting upon his conquered throne with Yuebei on his knee. The power of the Emperor corrupting his mind to think of a world where she's his heir, and Wukong his consort, things he only dreamed of half-heartedly. These thoughts become even more frenzied as the other two uncover copies of Wukong's medical reports from Gold Star's office (shared via Lao Tzu); explaining to all three of them just how long Yuebei has been cooking for + Macaque didn't sire her. This reinenforced the corrupted Azure Emperor that Wukong was *meant* to be his Queen, otherwise, why else would Yuebei be born just shy of his release?

(Hint: It's cause Macaque came back and Wukong started trusting others again.)

Yellow Tusk is horrified by Azure's behavior, while Peng just wants to see their leader happy. The palace staff brave enough to stay (notably the Orchard Maidens) are terrified for the baby's and the world's safety.

Yuebei this whole time, is getting increasingly angry at not being able to see her parents or troop, and is about to darn near explode if the "bad kitty" doesn't let her go. Or if the "shiny birdy" doesn't stop teasing her.

[blues824]

Would it be possible to request a male Kyo Sohma reader (for the Remarried Empress) who's a (begrudgingly) visiting Prince sent with his cousin Yuki (who, also begrudgingly, acts as his secretary despite being a Prince as well) to gain favor of The Emperor during the New Year Ceremony. The Empress catches Reader's eye (platonically, since he's already interested in someone from his country) and they form a bond.

He's outraged on her behalf (though he can't really act on it) but offers to gather any information she may need, even dragging his cousin into it as well. Her Majesty finds herself getting letters from an orange cat and a pretty silver rat.

A small time issue ends up with the cat being exposed as Reader being the cat who admits to it being a pretty risky idea to begin with.

(I don't know where I was trying to go with this, I was mostly wondering about the cast's reaction to such a strange pair)

Preface: You are originally from this world and not isekai’d. You are the Crowned Prince of the Southern Kingdom (completely made up place), sent by your family to go gain the favor of the Emperor of the Eastern Empire.

Sovieshu

Even before you met the Emperor, you were still pretty disgusted that he had the audacity to take up a mistress. You didn’t do anything to hide your distaste for this action either, and would announce it to the world if you could. Unfortunately, your family was counting on you to make a good impression.

The second you laid eyes on His Imperial Majesty, bile started to rise. You didn’t hide it either, much to the dismay of your cousin. But, you used your charisma to win over the nobility of the Eastern Empire. They all felt the same way you did, and they told you about it.

Then, you made eye contact with Her Imperial Majesty, and you felt an instant connection. It wasn’t love, but rather two souls who know how to hide their true selves have found each other. So, you decided that the only logical thing to do was to go talk to Navier, and the conversation was really relaxing for the two of you.

Sovieshu was absolutely angry that his wife was conversing with another man, especially a man who had high authority in a different region of the world. It didn’t matter if the two of you weren’t romantically interested in each other, the fact that you had the audacity to converse with his wife while they were going through a rough patch was frustrating for him.

When it was revealed that you were the cat who assisted in delivering letters from Heinrey to his wife, he would have ordered your execution had you been one of his subjects. Unfortunately, because you were the Crowned Prince of the Southern Kingdom, which was an ally to the Empire, you were spared (albeit hesitantly).

Rashta

Honestly, you couldn’t really blame Rashta for being thrust into the life of a mistress since it was all Sovieshu’s fault for making that decision. That doesn’t mean you liked her though. It was like if someone tried to take Tohru’s place in the palace. The thought alone made your blood boil.

The moment you saw the new mistress, a hairball was rising in your throat. How could she be so happy knowing that she’s only in the palace for the Emperor’s pleasure? It’s not like any nobles actually liked her. Plus, she smelled of filth covered with different perfumes.

Rashta saw how you went straight to the Empress and struck up a conversation between yourself, her, and your cousin, and she was incredibly jealous. You were doing it on purpose too, all under the guise of ‘preparing the concubine for what is going to happen both in the castle and outside of the castle’.

She could see that Sovieshu was getting increasingly angry at you talking to Navier, and she was angry that his attention was off of her. She wanted you out of the Empire, but it was way out of her jurisdiction because not only were you there for the party, you were there for the regulation of trade between the Eastern Empire and Luipt as well. Basically, you were there for political affairs she couldn’t mess with.

When your identity as the cat was revealed, she didn’t know how to feel. It’s not like you were trying to hide it, but she’s just so naive that she didn’t even notice you disappearing for times on end to see a cat roaming around in your absence.

Navier

You had received a personalized invitation on behalf of Her Imperial Majesty of the Eastern Empire, stating that you were welcome to an extended stay in the palace to act as ambassador to the Southern Kingdom dealing with the trade routes between your kingdom and the Empire as well as Luipt.

However, the minute you saw Navier, you could sense that she was upset. So you went to go talk to her, ditching all proper etiquette that your cousin had talked you through. It was a pleasant surprise for her, and you both got to learn a lot about each other. You heard that Sovieshu hadn’t even asked for permission before bringing Rashta into the palace, and that made you unbelievably angry.

To distract herself from the pain, she asked why an eligible bachelor such as yourself attended the party with your cousin rather than a date, and the conversation turned into you spilling tea about Tohru. Navier wished you the best of luck in your romantic pursuit of the girl. That night, she became an older sister figure to both you and Yuki.

But, when she went back to her bedchambers, she was a bit suspicious upon finding a cat and a rat ‘conversing’ with each other and seemingly understanding one another. She didn’t piece everything together, but when Queen wasn’t allowed to fly in, you used your cat form to bring in letters.

When it was revealed that you were the cat who delivered her the letters, she hugged you. A few tears definitely did slip, but then she scolded you for being so reckless with your life. 

Heinrey

Your Kingdoms were in an alliance with one another, and that’s how you both knew each other. The two of you were Crowned Princes who were acting as representatives of the Kingdoms you hailed from at Navier’s party. But, the two of you didn’t always get along. It wasn’t until Tohru came into your life that you really established a friendship with Heinrey.

Mans was partnering with your cousin to try and get you to hide your obvious disgust at His Imperial Majesty, but you always wore your emotions on your sleeve. Plus, you weren’t doing anything too bad. You just kept shooting death glares at Sovieshu.

Heinrey was definitely jealous when you started a conversation with Navier, but he was glad that it seemed platonic rather than you just trying to woo her. You even introduced the two, and gave him a thumbs up from the side of the ballroom as they danced. You best believe that you were one of the groomsmen at their wedding.

Anyways, during the time where any birds sent to Navier would be shot down as declared by Sovieshu, you wrote to Heinrey and offered your help. You would use your cat form to sneak in and deliver the letters yourself so that open lines of communication between the couple could continue. You can consider yourself a hero. We salute you, soldier 🫡

[greazyfloz]

Bend Til We Break - Chapter 5

Chapter (1) (2) (3) (4)

Smut

The next day all I can think about is what Hanna had to tell me last night. Was it about Quinn? It had to be. Why wouldn’t she tell me after I brought up Quinn? Should I even question it? What if it’s nothing? I shake the thoughts and go back to work. 

After work as I walk to my car I finally convince myself to ask her. If it’s nothing, it’s nothing but at least I’ll know why she distanced herself from our friendship. I shoot her a quick text and she answers quickly before I get to me car.

Y/n: Hey! What did you want to tell me last night?

Hanna: Hey

Hanna: honestly, I made it sound worse than it seemed. Promise it is nothing! 💜

Y/n: call me, I don’t believe you

I texted her back before driving home. She finally called me while I was parking into my spot in my apartment's parking garage. I turn my car off once parked and answer the call. “Hey” I speak through the phone.

“Hi” Hanna says, “I promise you it really isn’t anything”

“Well you wouldn’t have said anything, please, is it about Quinn?”

“Not really, kinda. I was just going to say that- remember last summer when I was hooking up with Josh?” she says and I hum, “Well, I became closer with Quinn and it became hard to be friends with both of you because I felt like being around him was betraying you?”

“I mean I kinda figured Quinn would be there if you were hanging out with Josh in Ann Arbor… Why didn’t you just tell me last night?”

“Well I didn’t want to rub in that I was in communication with Quinn all last summer while- I guess you guys are in a rough patch” she explains, deep down I don’t believe her but I don’t have the energy to push further.

“So, you and Josh?” I say trying to change the conversation

“Short lived… Again” she chuckles through the phone

“Not again?! What happened?”

“Another girl on his mind” she says

We continue to catch up as I make my way up to my apartment. Once I reach my apartment I tell her I have to go, and that’s when she randomly brought up Quinn.

“Okay well I am just getting home now, but call me whenever. I missed talking to you” I say

“Okay, sure, but Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t take Quinn back. I promise you are better off without him”

“What do you mean?” I say pausing in the front entrance of my apartment

“He just doesn’t miss you like you missed him” she says, “don’t look to closely into it Y/n, just take my advice”

“I mean that’s pretty cryptic, elaborate please”

“Josh would tell me stuff that’s all”

“Okay then, well I better get going” I say and we say our goodbyes before I throw in a random microwave dinner for supper. 

I bring my dinner over to the tv and turn it on to see the Canucks playing the Jets tonight. I decided to keep it until I was done eating, but ended up watching the whole game. Quinn played horrible. The team lost 7-3 and Quinn was on for 4 goals, 2 of them being turnovers. 1 of the goals he wasn’t on for he was in the penalty box, serving a stupid penalty. 

I continued my normal daily routine of work, home, cooking, maybe gym, maybe go out with some friends, maybe watch a canucks game for the next week or so. I muted Quinn so his texts weren’t giving me any notifications and the only time I allowed myself to read through them was at night. 

It has now been a week since I last spoke to Quinn in person, so seeing him at my door when I arrived home from work was definitely a surprise. “How do you even get into the building” I ask him rolling my eyes as he turns around to see me coming the other direction down the hall.

“Can we talk?” he says ignoring my question and I put my key in the lock on my door. 

“About?” 

“I broke up with Kaitlin” he says. So Kaitlin was her name I think to myself as the lock pops and I turn the nob to my front door pushing it open. I walk in without answering him. And he follows me in, “I broke up with her as soon as I got home that night”. 

“I want to- I wanted to be the only one Quinn, not the other women” I say walking into my kitchen as Quinn follows behind me and I turn to look at him as he speaks.

“You weren’t the other women. She was just a placeholder when I got lonely. I only ever wanted you.” Quinn says to me as I bite the inside of my cheek before nodding. 

“You could have had me” I say, shaking my head thinking about the time I waited for him to just call or text me or something, “I wanted you for so long, and you can’t stand that I’m finally over it. I am finally moving on” I say tears stinging my eyes

“I want you, that’s all I want. I won't be able to get you off my mind”

“I’m sorry Quinn, but I can’t do this anymore” I say looking down at my feet and I hear Quinn shuffle closer to me

“One last kiss, then I guess I am gone” he says resting his hand on my shoulder. I look up and look into his brown eyes and I’m lost as he leans in a little closer and I cave.

Our lips meet and the kiss becomes so in sync as it get deeper and deeper. We begin making out before Quinn lifts me up taking me to the bedroom. 

Once in the bedroom I slide down his body and onto my feet instantly taking my shirt off as he does the same. We quickly undress ourselves fully before engulfing in each other's arms to continue to make out, while waltzing over to the bed. I sit down on the edge of the bed and Quinn continues making out with me. He lifts me up a bit so he could comfortably get on top of me. He begins kissing down my neck as he fumbles around trying to line himself up with my entrance before slowly sliding himself in. 

He continues to thrust but they are softer so he was able to continue to lean down and kiss my neck. “Quinn” I breathe out a moan. He continues thrusting inside of me before he pulls himself out and goes to the bathroom to finish. 

I hear the bathtub water start to flow, so I make myself over to the bathroom. Quinn looks over at me once I get to the frame and gives me a soft slime before pulling me into the bathroom with him. I wrap my arms around him and he does the same. We sit there without saying a word just in each others arms until Quinn pulls away to stop the water. He then holds his hand out for me to take, “coming in” he asks and I take his hand.

I sit between his legs in the tub as Quinn lays back with his eyes shut. I look up at him, “what are you thinking about?” I ask him. 

“You” he says, sending shivers through my body. Then it hits me, he shouldn’t still be here. I sit in his arms though not sure if I want him to leave yet or not, “You okay?” he asks me, “you’re tense”.

“I just- I- Sex isn’t going to fix all of our problems Quinn” i say and he sighs

“I know, I really meant just a kiss. I couldn’t leave though. I am so, so, so in love with you it hurts” he says. I breathe in and pull away from his chest so I can stand up and get out of the bathtub. I leave Quinn there grabbing a towel and going into the bedroom. Quinn soon follows looking at me questionably.

“Last chance” I say walking towards him, “This is your very last chance!” Quinn smiles at me, and my serious expression softens slightly. 

“Okay” he says

“Okay” I say and he presses his lips to mine suddenly then pulls apart

“Can I call you my girlfriend again then?” Quinn asks taking me aback

“How do I know you are serious?”

“Move in with me”

[clover-the-awesomest]

Talkin bout Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel) for a hot sec okay thanks

Okay. Listen. This is a pretty big topic I’m gonna be delving into, and it’s a topic I’ve had no real exposure to until recently, so a lot of the things I’ll be saying is of my own opinion. I will be talking about SA, child abuse, abuse in general, alcohol, self-destructing, SH, and Hazbin Hotel in general. All of these are very big topics (Yes, including Hazbin lol) so if you are not keen on listening to some outsider talk about these things, please leave. I don’t want you reading something that will actively make you uncomfortable.

And again, let me reiterate: I am an outsider looking in. I have had no real exposure to any of these topics until I watched Hazbin Hotel episode 4. This is not meant to be a call-out or me making any educated guesses. It is purely just for my sake and so I can say my piece about these topics. DO NOT, IN ANY CASE, ASSUME I KNOW 100% WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT. I AM YOUNG AND DUMB, AND I AM VERY LIKELY TO MAKE SOME HOT TAKES HERE. IF I MAKE A MISTAKE OR SAY SOMETHING CONTROVERSIAL, DO NOT HESITATE TO HARRASS ME, BUT BE WARNED THAT I WILL NOT ENGAGE.

One final disclaimer: If you know anyone. ANYONE who is going through a rough patch, or someone who has experienced any of these things before or are currently going through it, please please PLEASE just at least reach out. Say hi. Make them a gift. Listen to them talk. Sit with them for a while. Stay on call with them for a while. Just… Just be there for them. Please. Even a little can go a long way.

With all that out of the way, here is my very overdue take on Hazbin Hotel episode 4: Masquerade.

———

====

It is depressing. Genuinely, it is a very sad and very raw episode. And honestly? It does not deserve any of the hate that it is most certainly receiving.

Masquerade is an episode all about the horrors of an abusive (Sexually and otherwise) relationship and how it affects the one being abused. Angel Dust, who’s been shown before this episode to be very toxic and sexual, is once again given the spotlight that he very much deserves, shedding light on his behavior and why he acts the way he acts.

What is genuinely saddening about this episode is that we know that what Angel goes through is not far from reality in the slightest. If we take away the magic and the soul contracts, we get a day in the life of a real human being in the world right now as you are reading this. Someone is out there being hurt, being abused, by someone they once looked up to. They are being manipulated, being slapped, being thrown against the floor, and all the while they are powerless to do anything. It’s such a sad, sickening reality that I wish wasn’t true, but it is, and that’s that. I want more than anything to be able to help these people who are being hurt and are being used, but I currently have no way of doing that and I feel so so terrible and wrong for saying that but it’s true and I just… Ugh. It’s so depressing, really. The lengths that other human beings are willing to go to just to have someone under their control at all times. I hate it, truly.

“When I say ‘Come,’ you say…”

“Yes, Valentino.”

“When I say you are fucking 20 guys before lunch, you say…?”

“Y-yes, Valentino…”

…

Valentino wants money and control. That is all this fucker wants. The moment he laid eyes on Angel’s desperate drunken ass he instantly knew he struck gold, and just like that, the spider was under his control. In the beginning, Angel did just as he was told with little pushback, because he was looking to make a quick buck and this was also literally a goddamn overlord he was working with. Disappointing his boss could spell disaster! After a while though, Val’s demands became much more intrusive and much more harsh than they were at the beginning, and Angel’s hope for a fresh start began to slowly fade away. Soon enough, he got to where he is now. Still working with Valentino, but wanting desperately to find a way out. To be free from this double-hell that he’s dug himself into. To be happy again. But of course, now that he’s dug himself a grave and has already lied in it for some time, he can’t exactly escape. Valentino has seen his work first-hand, has experienced it with his own disgusting fuzzy body, and loves it all with every fiber in his bones. He doesn’t just want someone to fuck 20 guys before lunch. He wants Angel to fuck 20 guys before lunch. He’s found his new favorite toy, and he intends to keep playing with it.

Now this is where the manipulation comes in. Angel wants to leave, he knows he does, but he also knows that he can’t. Literally, he can’t, because his soul is bound by a contract that only Val has access to, but even without that in the picture, he cannot leave. It was shown via a previous episode (I forget which one I’m not sorry) that Valentino cannot and will not let go of his favorite toy. He sends Angel text after text after text, voicemails, emails, calls, you name it. We see a clip of him sending Angel a large amount of voicemails, and in each one he switched between being nice and caring to his spider baby to going full on insane! He yells at Angel in one voicemail, then starts cooing and whispering in kindly tones in the next. It’s such a terrifying way of showing the abused that the abuser can change their mood on a dime and that they can’t control it. That they need an out, something to let their frustrations out on. It terrifies the abused into staying, leaving them both to fester in this cycle of cat and mouse for a while before one of them inevitably breaks said cycle. Though it usually isn’t broken until it’s too late.

There is one upper hand that Angel has over Valentino though, and it’s that he knows what Valentino is doing and doesn’t fall for those kinds of tricks. Angel is a spider, and spiders are well-known for being tricky and sinister and gross, so naturally he’d pick up on Val’s manipulative behavior. This then leads Angel into another issue in his life though, and that’s his coping mechanisms.

Since Angel knows how terrible Valentino’s treatment towards him is, and since he knows how much it hurts him, he turns to other things that don’t exactly help. Alcohol, drugs, clubbing, more goddamn sex like can this man please just stop having sex if he wants to get away from it please can he just have a break por favor-

These are good substitutes for the pain. They are like numbing agents, or more questionable anti-depressants. Angel goes to the club to forget it all, to forget how much everything hurts. He goes to get heavy drinks so that he can forget. He gets high so he can forget. He has sex so he can forget.

He hurts himself more so that he can forget.

Rather than talking with someone and dealing with his stress and emotional turmoil head-on, Angel pushes it away. Off to the side. Bottles it up in a small plastic container where he’ll never have to see it again! But when leaving a glass of water under the tap for too long, it’ll quickly begin to overflow, and that’s what we see happen with Angel in Masquerade. It’s been so long of him using his illegal methods of forgetting, of numbing the pain and ignoring it, that everything just begins to spill over. He starts losing his touch, starts affecting those around him who clearly had nothing to do with any of it in the first place. He oversteps Husk’s boundaries, is constantly rude to Charlie and Vaggie, and just straight up ignores everyone else. (As far as I’m aware. Not mentioning Pentious in this btw cuz he’s a temporary resident at the hotel.) Even when Husk calls Angel out on his behavior, even when he calls the guy fake, the spider does not, CANNOT, budge. He remains indignant, is still a cocky little bitch, and just tries his hardest to not drag everyone else down with him. It backfires horribly, of course, and Husk soon ends up dragging him away from his escape, from his anti-depressant. And Angel snaps.

”IT’S NOT AN ACT!! It’s who I need to be…! And this? This is my escape! Where I can forget about it all, how much I hate… EVERYTHING. A place where I can get high and not have to think about how much it hurts.”

And then… We get this line.

“And maybe, if I can ruin myself enough in the process, if I end up broken, I won’t be his favorite toy anymore.

And maybe he’ll let me go.”

…

This line hurts me so much. My chest aches every time I hear it. Because what it entails is genuinely horrifying. Angel is telling Husk that he is literally just a toy to Valentino, just a perfect plastic doll that he loves in a perfect plastic house that he owns. The spider doesn’t know how much it’ll take to full break himself, doesn’t know if he’s even able to do that, but at this rate he is very ready to see if he can. He wants to do that, he wants to break himself. Angel wants to become physically unable to do Valentino’s dirty work, to get thrown away just like all of Val’s previous toys did. He wants, more than anything else, to just get tossed into the trash and get crushed by the truck that collects him, just so he doesn’t have to be hurt by Valentino anymore.

But the part of his speech that truly hurts me is when he says that MAYBE Valentino will let him go. If Angel was so sure that his idea would work, that breaking his boss’s favorite toy will get him to lose interest, he would’ve said “And then he’ll finally let me go.” But instead he says Maybe. Because Angel isn’t even sure if Valentino will let him be free after all this. He is unsure if Val will lose interest, if he’ll be tossed aside, if he’ll be able to find happiness in his afterlife once he is broken. He’s so far from what he dreamed of that he is more than willing to hurt/kill himself, even when he’s unaware if it’ll even help him in the first place.

Seriously. How sickening is that??

And again, one of the saddest aspects of all this is that real people experience these things in real time, in the real world, right now, as you are reading this. It’s terrifying, scary, downright depressing to think about! How so many people are willing to kill themselves just for the slightest chance at grasping freedom, yet are unsure if they can even reach it once they have that chance.

The worst part is, though, is that before opening up to Husk, this was literally Angel’s only way of finding freedom. To break himself apart so that he couldn’t be used anymore. If he can’t be broken, if he can’t die, then Val will just keep using and using and using Angel. He’ll keep hurting him and abusing him and manipulating him, and the poor guy is very unable to do anything about it at the moment. It’s so sad and so twisted and I hate it so much.

This episode of Hazbin Hotel has been getting a pretty fair amount of hatred just for existing, and honestly for once, I can see why. It touches on a very, very heavy subject that not too many people are fully familiar with. And even if there are people who are familiar with/have experienced SA before, they most likely did not have the same experience as Angel does in the episode. Which, yeah duh, of course they didn’t! We’re not in Hell yet! But the way they go about it is horrible. I’m assuming people are hating on the episode for both painting SA in a terrible light, and also not being true to their specific events. So, in response to this, let me just say this…

Nobody, no matter what, no matter what you do or where you go or who you are, is gonna have the same exact experience. For example, I went on a big hiking trip with my dad over the summer, and I saw many other families go on the same exact path we did. And yet I could tell they all were doing fine, and they all enjoyed themselves, while I was feeling like I was gonna fall and die at any fucking moment and I just wanted to get back on solid ground. The view was nice but the journey honestly made me think I was gonna go splat right then and there and I was not too happy about that.

What I’m saying is that I did not have the same exact experience to anyone else on that trail. Everyone else except for me was doing fine, yet their experiences were all purely their own. This is what makes us human. The difference in appearance, expression, and experience. Thus, for people to come out and watch an episode all about SA and for them to expect it to be exactly as they imagined… No. just no. Get a therapist, please, because you clearly have something wrong with you.

And as for painting SA in a terrible light… That’s… That’s good though? SA is genuinely a horrible thing and I do not, under any circumstances, want anyone ever to go through anything remotely like it. We are human beings! We have compassion in our blood! Use it, for fuck’s sake! I do not want anyone to ever be hurt by anyone else that they know or love dearly. That is a thought I’d never wish on even my greatest enemy! So yes, it should be painted in a horrible, terrible light! It’s bad!

====

———

This episode was… It was a lot. I still get sad and depressed to this day whenever I watch it. What I watch Angel go through makes me sick. However, I’m glad that issues like these are being addressed and that people are talking about it. I don’t like it in the slightest, but that’s why it should be talked about more. We need to be able to help more people, and even though I can’t right now, I pray to God that someone out there is hopefully getting the help and love that they truly do deserve.

Thank you so so much for reading through that whole thing, I know it was a long one. I just have so many thoughts on episode 4. I’ve been working on this for almost an hour and a half now btw so I am very gladly going to end it here. Hope you show some love and respect to those close to you and I really do hope you keep the negative thoughts to yourself. Now go get yourself a drink of water, go eat a banana or a bowl of cheerios, text your loved ones and hug ur stuffed animal, and have a great day/night! Thank you.

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #1171: The Diary of Beartrap (Epithet Erased)

Dear Diary,

It's been a while, hasn't it?~ I'm sorry it took too long for me to write to you. Quite a lot has happened to me as of late: Some hectic, some exciting, a few rough patches and there, but I promise you there's a lot good after that. In fact, my life has gotten a lot better since it ever been, but I'm getting way ahead of myself already, so let's get started , shall we?

To get the bad and obvious out of the way, my relationship with my family hasn't improved at all unfortunately. Lorelai's still as lazy and self-centered ever while always constantly butting heads with me every chabce she gets, dad-no, Martin, is too investing in his own little world to even care about anything anymore, and I always had to spend the last few years of my life, watching over the toy store and keep it up float while cleaning up THEIR messes on a daily basis! And yeah, I HATE every second of it and EVERYDAY!!

.....But it couldn't be helped. The day mother left has been really rough for all of us since then, so it's not too hard to understand why our relationship became so....distant, hollow, dysfunctional and so.....messy. I should've realized sooner that things would turn out the way it did and be more prepared, but even then, I doubt it would've been any less stressful and draining than it was now and after everything Lorei put me and my friends through in her fantasy world of hers that night, I decided enough was enough and leave everything behind me: the toy store, the people I used to call my family, and.....my previous life up to this point..........

And I'm happy I made that choice, because like I said, my life really turned around for a whole lot better since then. I'm doing a lot better in school, I get to spend more time with my friends stressed-free, I even did a few other things I've never thought i would ever get to do in whole life: like being a part of school plays, attend football amd basketball games, and making these suuuuuper yummy cinnamon apple raisins waffle in cute cub head shapes~

To tell you truth, I don't think any of this would be even remotely be possible if it weren't for the two people who are working their butts off into looking after me as of late: Crusher, the biggest teddy bear of a sweetheart I have ever met (Which is pretty ironic considering he actually went as a teddy bear for Halloween last year. So freaking adorable!~ i should really remember to him again when he and the others come back), and my one and only boss: Giovanni Potage.

I honestly don't think I have the proper words to express how much he means to me or even how thankful I truly am for everything heaven done for me so far. He taught me how to be more confident in myself and become more assertive, he goes out of his way and beyond to try to help me with stuff in general, and he even went out of his way to take me our of my miserable home life and does his very best to look after me to this very. He sees a lot more value and importance in me than I even realized I have any myself. He did all of this is.....because he cares about me. Because he loves me. And......I love him too. So much that.....I wanna do whatever I can to help him out: with our new villain group, any of his newer evil schemes, and everything else in general. It's the least I can do for everything he have done for me thus far.

To this day, I still don't think I have a clue as to what the future will have in store for me or what to expect going forward, but I won't let it scare me off that easily. I won't let my past life take a hold of me any longer. I am going to live rest of my life to the fullest by my own accord and with the people I truly love and cherish. And if anyone has a problem with that, they can go screw themselves right off to the blazing sun, cause I'm not stopping one bit!

Giovanni: (In the Other Room) Ohh Beeartraaaaap!~ Dinner's finally ready!~

Crusher: And we finally return with SNACKS!

Spike: Annnnd a good amount of decent quality movies we can all watch!~ None of which were chosen by Ben thank God!

Ben: Dude, seriously!?

Car Crash: Hey, we're not the ones who brought tickets to that knock off Ice Age movie that one time, didn't we?

Ben: ('Let's Out a Frustrated Scream')

Molly: (Giggles Softly) Coming! (Finishes Up Writing on her Diary)

Okay, as much as I would love to stay and wrote, I gotta go now. We're having lasagna and a whole movie night tonight. They said they'll be a lot a movie to watch through this time around, so fingers crossed for at least a few of them to be decent. But until then, I'll try and write to you more often. It is one of my many New Years Resolutions after all, might as well make the most out of them.

Love,

Molly Blyndeff A.K.A. Beartrap

@aprilbrowines