#i could not give two shits i have been on this fuck ass website longer than some of you have been alive

[snufkinnieee]

i think the thing that makes rupert and taggie so compelling is that he wants to take care of her???? as another eldest daughter who has to keep all the shit together..... to have a man admit that he did you wrong, actively try and help you with your problems, and then work on himself because he said he doesn't like how you see him is like.....insane.

[qussymagnet]

Okay I'm going to share my opinion no one really cares about on the "Okay I'm going to share my opinion no one really cares about" website and it (very briefly) touches on the topic of grooming and child abuse so if that's not something you want to read or would be triggering for you then you've been given your warning and I don't even care if anyone reads this but I just have to get it out of my brain because

I am fucking tired of people thinking relationships either real or fictional between consenting adults with significant age gaps is creepy or weird. I was watching a show with some friends a couple days ago and there was such a dynamic in the show between two characters, and someone was like, "I don't know, that's just creepy honestly." And I am thinking. How? Both people are consenting adults. And I also told them as much, lol.

I see this everywhere. I've seen it on dating app profiles where people write shit like "i don't talk to anyone over the age of [x] and fyi if someone talks to you who is more than five years older than you, that is a huge red flag." I've seen this same sentiment applied to friendships, too! I have seen this criticism of fics. And, I've even personally been either directly accused of being creepy, or had it very strongly implied that I and/or someone else was creepy for having the audacity to feel emotions outside of our designated age brackets.

And look, I get it, at least partially. I get that there are a lot of real abusers out there that prey on people significantly younger than them. I get that a lot of people who have been victims of child abuse or grooming find this topic triggering. I get it because I also was groomed when I was a freshman in high school. But the thing is, I was a child and that person was an adult. The significant age difference was not the issue. The issue was that an adult was preying on a child.

I am in my mid-30's and I would happily date or fuck someone 10, 20, 30+ years older than me. Someone who's been alive longer, probably fucked more people, probably knows what they want, and wants to give some of it to me? I mean, hell yes man. Get in my bed right now, I'm serious. How is that even a question? So they're as old as my mom. Maybe they're older than my mom. Who cares! I'm an adult, they're an adult. It literally does not fucking matter.

"Oh, but," I hear people say. "Sure, okay, maybe if it's like, someone in their 30's and someone in their 60's that's fine. But, adults who are in their late teens or early 20's don't know what they want. They aren't mature people. They're vulnerable and if someone older than them is dating them, that's manipulative. They're using them." Listen to yourself. Hear yourself. You're infantilizing adults. You're saying that full grown ass adults who can drive, sign up to go to war, drink, get married, buy a house, and take out a loan somehow aren't really adults capable of making their own informed decisions. You're saying that you don't view young adults as actual people who have autonomy over their own lives. Honestly, that says more about you and your shitty opinions than it says about a 19 year old renting their own place and living their life lol. (Also, bold of you to assume that just because I'm in my 30's, that I know what I want more than someone younger than me lol.)

When does a young adult become a real adult to you? 21? 23? 25? What do you base this on? Does it vary between people? Why? How do you decide how mature someone is based on a number? Because I've dated someone 10 years older than me who acted extremely immaturely, and I'm friends right now with a 19 year old who is in many ways honesty way wiser and more emotionally self-aware than I am.

This pervasive opinion that younger adults are somehow inherently more unaware or vulnerable additionally implies that at some arbitrary age, we become truly grown up and no longer could be manipulated by someone else, which is just false! I may be in my mid-30's, but I definitely have my weak spots and can be pretty easily swayed against my better judgment on some occasions. The people who know me well enough to know the buttons to push don't push them, but they're there nonetheless. Outside of that, I'm human. It's easy to believe something is good for you even if it really isn't just because you really want it to be. That is an age-agnostic experience. Manipulative relationships can happen between anyone, of any age, at any time.

An adult dating another adult significantly younger or older than them literally does not matter. This is a morally neutral activity. Y'all need to fuckin' get over yourselves lol. I am so, so, so very tired of hearing this take. Go watch Harold and Maude. Go read a tantalizing age swap fic. Go sit outside and look at the sky and consider your opinions. But if I see this shit on my dash I'm gonna block your ass on sight.

Peace be with you.

[tsukiihime]

Heartbreak (Bakugo x Reader, Shinsou x Reader)

Hey everyone! This is my first BNHA piece, something I wrote when I was bored and thought what the hey, I’ll post it! Feedback is appreciated!

Word Count: 3.4k

Pairings: Bakugo x Reader, Shinsou x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of cyberbulling, swearing, breakup, angst, just kind of a sad piece overall?

Next Chapter

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When you started dating the Explosion Hero Dynamight, you knew that you were throwing yourself to the wolves. The media is cruel and the fans even crueller - if they deem you unworthy for their Hero then you’re in for a hell of a time - and not in a good way. But you loved Bakugo - you’ve loved him more than you’ve ever loved anyone, and for two years of your life you’ve been by his side as he  climbs through the Hero charts. 

But recently, the media has been sniffing a little too close to home. Someone has tipped the tabloids off to your existence and ravenous fans have been finding your social media day after day. Your selfies on Instagram are being bombarded with hateful comments on everything ranging from your weight to your skin color to your fashion sense, while your Twitter messages are flooded with paragraph after paragraph full of venom and vitriol. You can no longer take the headlines, the hate, the disgust being dished out at you day and day out. You beg your boyfriend to do something, anything to make the media leave you alone. Which brings you to tonight - in a heated argument with the Hero Dynamight.

“All I’m saying is that if you address the media, if you tell them that I’m your girlfriend, they might back off. I can’t do this anymore Katsuki, I can’t keep waking up and seeing this shit on my feed!” You’re so angry you’re shaking, and it’s pissing you off even more that Bakugo stares at you, unblinking and unfazed, arms crossed in indifference.

“You know I can’t do that. I do that, and my ratings plunge.” Your eyes widen in disbelief as soon as those words leave his mouth, you can’t believe he even said that. 

“Are you serious Katsuki? Is beating Deku and becoming the number one hero really worth more to you than us? Than me?” Tears threatened to spill over at any moment, your fists clenching until your nails left tiny red crescents in your skin. You stared at vermilion eyes refusing to back down, waiting with trembling lips for his answer.

“You knew what you were getting into when you started dating me. I don’t know why you need so much fuckin’ reassurance that you’re different from all those other damn extras.” That sentence sends you from angry to fuckin’ pissed in less than a second. 

You jab at his chest, practically screaming: “Excuse me? When we started dating, I was promised that you’d protect me from everything, including the media. Do you see the shit they say about me Katsuki? What they say about my body, my family, my upbringing? How they call me a slut and a whore because my Instagram has ‘Toshi on it and now I’ve been spotted with you? I can’t even visit my parents because I’m afraid they’ll follow me. I can’t go and see “Toshi because they’ll shit talk me even more! And you sit there and do nothing. Say nothing. All I want is for you to tell them the truth, that we are dating and that we are a couple.” 

Now, it’s Bakugo’s turn to bite back. “And I’m sayin’ my hands are tied. They know I’m with someone, and I lose  fans. Which means, I ain’t gonna beat that damn Deku at the rankings next month.”

“Fuck the rankings Bakugo! Can you get your head out of your ass for a second?! How in the world,” you turn to go to grab your phone, pulling up the latest headline about you on the tabloid’s website, “can you let them say this about me? Don’t you at least care that I’m being attacked on the daily?” Tears fall freely from your eyes now, and Bakugo flinches for a second, but only a second. You laugh in anger, turning away from him. “I already know the answer, Katsuki. You care more about the rankings than me. I’m in the way of your dream if you say I’m with you, so let me remove myself from the equation.” You grab a jacket, an umbrella and your phone, and put on your shoes. “It’s over Katsuki. I’m done. If you won’t say that we’re together, then we shouldn’t be together.” 

You turn to leave, and a part of you hopes that he’ll follow - that he’ll grab you and hold you tight and tell you that he loves you, loves you more than the stupid rankings and that he’ll stand by you no matter what the media says.

But he doesn’t. 

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You walk a couple of blocks to another apartment building, ring the doorbell and wait for the response to come from the other side. A deep voice responds, belonging to someone who had obviously been sleeping. “Who the hell is it?”

“‘Toshi, it’s me.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? It’s raining idiot, get in here.” The doors unlock and you make your way inside. You know this building like the back of your hand, it’s the home of your best friend and your second home. You make your way to his apartment and he’s waiting for you in the hallway - purple hair tousled and messy, body heavy with sleep and dark undereye circles accentuating violet eyes as he scratches the back of his neck. It’s a tic of his, one you know well - he’s nervous.

“A fight huh?” 

“Worse. I broke it off.” Shinsou immediately tenses at the mention of this, and if you weren’t so pissed and hurt by Bakugo you would’ve laughed. 

“Shit...I’m sorry. Come in, tell me all about it.” He steps aside and lets you into his apartment, closing the door as he prepares himself to listen to you complain until the sun rises. He agrees to help you get your things when you’re ready to return, and says you can crash at his place until you find somewhere else to stay.

You return two days later, punching in the code to the apartment you and Bakugo share - well, you supposed shared was the better word. It felt so foreign, being here after everything. Memories of the last two years flooded into your mind - lazy days where you spent all day with Katsuki on the couch doing nothing but watching horrible horror flicks and laughing the night away, those early mornings that had you waking up at five o’clock in the morning to cook pancakes while the sleepy blonde wraps his arms around your waist while teasing your culinary skills. Even the late nights when schoolwork kept you awake well into the twilight hours and your exhausted body dragged itself to the bed you and he shared, breathing in the caramel scent of the man you loved as your head hits the plush pillows and you drift off to sleep. But now, all of those memories have disappeared into the wind, replaced with the fight you and Bakugo had before you had stormed out of the house that night. He’s been texting you like mad, calling you like there is no tomorrow, but you ignore his calls. He never leaves a voicemail, so you don’t know what’s on his mind.  

As the beige door swung open, you breathed a sigh of relief that Katsuki wasn’t home. You had neither the heart nor the energy to see him after all that had happened and instead resolved yourself to get all of your things before his shift ended at his agency. You spent the next hour rounding up everything you owned - books, pictures, everything that you had room to take and that you knew you wouldn’t miss if you left it behind. When you had a breather you sent a quick text to Shinsou to let him know you were almost ready to go - and took a deep breath as you entered your bedroom. No, your former bedroom now. “That’s all it is now.” you remind yourself.

You start dumping all your clothes into trash bags and gather up pictures and toiletries that belong to you as you clean up the bedroom from one end to the other. As you grab a pile and place it on the bed, an article of clothing falls that you don’t recognize. You bend over and pick it up to inspect it closer. 

You know your clothes, all of them. But this lacy lingerie set that is discarded on the floor isn’t yours, hell, it isn’t even your size. Your throat feels like sandpaper and your nose crinkles as you drop the clothes as if burned by a flame. You can’t help but stare at it as a million things run through your mind at once: whose is it? How long has it been here? Was this before or after you and Katsuki broke up? Did he already move on? The last thought is something you know you shouldn’t dwell on, it isn’t your business what he does after you’re the one that ended the relationship. You know this and yet the tears come anyways, endless and stinging without end. Your legs give out and you fall to your knees clutching your heart as sobs fall from your lips, as your emotions bounce all over the place. The molten hot anger you felt at first is now transforming into deep sadness, all the bittersweet memories racing through your mind now replaced by images of Katsuki holding another woman, another lover just like he held you. You can’t stop as your brain formulates these what if situations - what if he was waiting for you to end it so he could be with her? You start to imagine him kissing another with the same passion he held for you. You see another in your place, eating the food that he insists on making to spoil you after a long night of homework, running their fingers through his hair as he falls asleep on their lap, and seeing another wrapped in his arms as they fall asleep together under the moonlit sky.

“I can’t stay here” you whisper to yourself, desperate to stop the tears that won’t end - desperate to feel anything but this pit of agony. You’ll take numbness over this endless heartbreak, this disappointment, this feeling of self-deprecation that tells you over and over that you weren’t good enough. “I-”

The door opens and you hear Shinsou’s voice behind you, calling your name and making his way through the hallway at the front of the apartment. “You didn’t answer my texts so I came up to check on you and-” The purple haired man freezes when he sees you, sitting on the floor with your head in your hands, sobbing uncontrollably as a waterfall of tears spill from your eyes dripping onto your fingers. You can no longer hold back your sobs as everything comes to a head - your insecurities, the hateful comments left on your social media, Katsuki’s own dismissal of your feelings as you two fought that night two days ago. Shinsou immediately drops to his knees in front of you, wrapping his arms around your frame and holding you close. “It’s okay...let it out.” You peer up at him from tear filled eyes, lunging at him to wrap your arms around his neck as you bury your face in his chest. 

“Hitoshi…” is all you’re able to say before another sob wracks your body, tears staining your cheeks and dampening Shinsou’s hoodie. You try desperately to explain why you’re crying, and why you’re so upset but you can’t find the words as your tongue feels heavy like a bunch of bricks. Indigo eyes drift to the underwear discarded behind you, anger seething in his veins as he puts two and two together. 

“Bakugo, you fucking tool.” He thinks to himself as he holds you, letting you cry out what you can’t tell him but he knows. He knows you better than anyone, just as you know him better than anyone. He remembers the vibrant little girl he met on the playground all those years ago, who spoke to him without a care even with his “villainous” quirk. He remembers your ecstatic scream as he calls you to let you know that he was able to get into the Hero Course at U.A, and he remembers you celebrating his acceptance at getting into a Hero Agency by getting blackout drunk and waking up with you in snuggled in his arms as you wear his favorite hoodie. He remembers being the one to introduce you to Bakugo at a Hero Ranking after party when you accompanied him as his plus one. He remembers how breathtaking you looked that night - an obsidian dress that hugged your figure closely, long legs accentuated by black stilettos and your plush lips painted in a ruby red hue. He remembers being the man of the hour, the hero Mindjack accompanied by a beauty on his arm, the envy of the venue. He remembers dancing with you, his most beloved childhood friend, his most precious person. He remembers watching you stride to the bar, smiling as you greet the bartender with glee and and he remembers watching you bump into Bakugo as you apologize quickly to the blonde before making your way back to him. He also remembers Bakugo following you to him, prompting him to introduce you to the man who would eventually become your boyfriend.

“If only you hadn’t bumped into him that night”, Shinsou thinks to himself, “Katsuki Bakugo, I’m going to give you a piece of my mind when I see you next.” How helpless he feels watching you cry as your heart shatters into a million pieces, how powerless he feels as he holds you tighter than he’s ever held anyone before. “C’mon, let’s get you home. I’ll take what I can and I’ll get the rest another day.” he smiles as he looks at you, giving you a small grin that he hopes makes you feel a bit better. “Don’t worry, I grabbed your Switch and your laptop, so the lazy girl hours can still happen” you punch him in the shoulder playfully as you wipe tears away on your sleeve, pouting as you roll your eyes at his lazy jokes before he continues, “and I’ll send Bakugo a text on what’s happening. You won’t have to deal with him. I promise.” It doesn’t escape his notice how you tense up when he says Bakugo, but the small smile you give at his joke makes him feel just a bit better. You stand up and press your lips to his forehead, tippy toeing to reach. “Thanks ‘Toshi. I really appreciate it, truly.” 

“Anything for my Animal Crossing buddy.” You cross your arms and give him a questioning look, eliciting a chuckle from the taller male. “I’m jus’ kiddin’. You know I’d do anything for you. And your Switch.” You laugh as you turn to grab your boxes and make your way to the front of the apartment, the lingerie that had shattered your world moments ago momentarily forgotten in the corner of you and Bakugo’s bedroom. “It’s only Bakugo’s now” you remind yourself as you walk out into the living room, “this place belongs to Bakugo only.” You take one last look at your home for the last ten months, and quickly turn on your heels to make your way to the elevator with your entire life packed into a few boxes. A small sense of regret lingers in you, but you quickly shove that aside to stop yourself from crying some more. Shinsou grabs the rest of the boxes left on the table, and places your key to the apartment on the counter next to a picture frame with the glass faced down. He then turns and follows you out the door to his car.

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The next few nights are the hardest - Shinsou’s apartment only has one bedroom, one bathroom and the living room which means you’re on the couch until you find your own place. You’ve known Shinsou since childhood and you wouldn’t mind sharing a bed but you’re so distraught from your discovery in Bakugo’s room that you want to be alone to cry it out if you need to - you already feel like a burden to Shinsou despite his protests against the idea. He’s not home tonight - on patrol around the city as you sit in the living room wrapped in a blanket and wearing his favorite hoodie. You flip through the channels and stumble across the Hero Rankings red carpet. It’s been ages since Hitoshi attended one, becoming more of an “underground hero” and avoiding the spotlight if possible. In fact, the only time he attended one was with you around the time you met Bakugo. You cringe at the thought of him, trying quickly to remove him from your mind. The rational part of your mind wants to change the channel, to watch those documentaries you love so much and wait until Shinsou gets back home but you don’t. Instead, you decide to remain on this channel, watching as heroes come and go on the red carpet with their dates and hear the host gush about each one’s accomplishments. This is torture, you know Bakugo will appear since he’s the number four Hero, you know he’ll be there and yet like a train wreck, you can’t look away. Maybe you’re curious as to what he’s up to, or maybe you want to see if he looks as miserable as you know you do. In any case, you wait with baited breath to see a pair of scarlet eyes and ash blonde hair to satiate your curiosity. A flash of green catches your attention and you see Izuku Midoriya appear on screen in front of you. Deku is the number three Hero and on his arm is his girlfriend Uraraka, another Hero ranked at number seven. You’ve met the both of them at parties you attend with Bakugo - they both received a lot of hate from “fans'' when they announced they were dating, but the love they exuded for each other made the media change their tune really fast. They truly adored one another and didn’t care if their ratings took a dive. You had wished Bakugo would do that for you, but you weren’t a Hero and you didn’t have an impressive quirk, so his agency decided that it would be better for his ratings if he kept you a secret and he agreed. At first, you didn’t mind but the comments on social media and the tabloids made you feel as if he wasn’t yours at all - instead all you felt was that he was ashamed of you. 

Then you see him. You grip the remote so hard it almost hurts, but you keep on looking anyway. There stands the number four Hero Katsuki Bakugo, wearing a red and black suit and looking as he always does - confident to the point of arrogance, a grumpy face that makes him unapproachable, arms crossed in annoyance. The cameras go off flash after flash, and the announcer goes over his stats - how many people he’s saved, his amount of solved cases, so on and so forth. You smile at his ranking, he’s gone from eleven to four in such a short amount of time, and you know he has his determination to thank for that. He works hard, that you can’t deny. 

Then you see her. You recognize her, from the tabloids and the makeup commercials. The Illusion Hero, Maboromicamie. She’s tall, beautiful, and has a gorgeous figure as well as a comfy place ranked as the number ten Hero. Her arm is linked with Bakugo’s, and he has an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close for the photoshoot. The announcer raises their voice in excitement, as a headline appears on your TV: “Dynamight and Maboromicamie an item? Seen together getting close at the awards ceremony!”

You shut off the TV and close your eyes. What were you expecting? Why did you do that? You can’t help the tears that escape, but they do. There you sit, alone in the apartment with the image of those two stuck in your head, burned into your memory. When Shinsou gets home, he says nothing and you’re grateful for it - you know he’s seen the ceremony and he knows you well enough to know that you’ve seen it too. Instead, he showers, lays down next to you, and holds you close as you cry quietly into his arms.

[babymetaldoll]

Spilling drinks on my settee (Spencer Reid/Reader)

Prompt: Start a story with "Can you keep a secret?"

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Reader 

Word count: 2,8K

Genre: Fluff

Warning: none 

Summary: Spencer is drunk with Morgan, finally sharing his feelings for Reader 

Part two

Masterlist

- “Can you keep a secret?”

Spencer was drunk. He leaned over Derek tapping on his shoulder a few times, making him chuckle at the scene. Dr. Reid was never the one to go out, less going to a bar and have a few too many drinks. Hell no! He could be the designated driver for life, if only he liked to drive. When he joined his BAU friends on their nights out, he would usually stick with a whisky that could last the whole night, or even left untouched at the table after he left. But that night, Spencer Walter Reid was drunk as a skunk. Wasted. And his best friend was the only witness.

- “Ok kid, tell me your secret”

- “I'm in love”- the words came like a slur out of his lips, the ones that curled into a guilty smile- Stupid, crazy, and irrevocably in love.

- “No shit!”- Derek pretended to be surprised, but he would have been a lousy profiler if he had missed the look on his best friend's face in the latest months. He nearly had hearts draw on his eyes, like a cartoon.

- “Yesss”- he made that "s" sound longer than it should have and closed his eyes for a few seconds- “Yes, I am.”

Morgan was still chuckling as he stared at the kid. He was still a kid for him, though he was already 30. He still acted like one, still shy, inexperienced. He had more attitude on his job now, on the field, with the unsubs, his pairs. But in his personal life... well, that was a whole different story.

- “Do you want to know who she is?”- Reid whispered and brought a finger to his lips.

- “But shhhh! you can't tell anyone 'cos it's a secret”- it was getting harder for Morgan to remain serious at that conversation, but he managed to keep his poker face and nodded at his friend.

- “But you can't tell Penelope 'cos she is going to tell the whole FBI! I'm sure!”

- “I won't tell her”

- “When I told her I was afraid of the dark, everybody ended up making fun of me...”

- “I swear I won't, kid”- Derek nodded and reassured his best friend he could trust him. He knew it was hard for Reid to talk about his feelings, that was probably why he had gotten that drunk to share them.

It had been unusual when Spencer walked over to Derek and asked if he wanted to get a drink with him after work. It was weirder when he said he wanted it to be just the two of them instead of the whole team, cos "he had some serious business" he wanted to share with him.

- “I'm in love with (Y/N)”- and yes, Derek was right. Spencer wanted to talk about the obvious.

The whole team knew he was in love with (Y/N). It was crystal clear. It was so obvious even Strauss had joked about it with Rossi once. Yes, Spencer's feelings were so clear and visible, everybody was aware of his love.

Everyone but (Y/N), apparently.

Derek knew ('cos it was a well-established fact that Penelope couldn't keep a secret) that (Y/N) was sure Spencer wasn't interested in her. Garcia had tried to convince her their genius was head over feet for her, but Reid had made an excellent job in looking uninterested in her.

Why? 'cos he was stupid, and it had nothing to do with his high IQ. It was simply 'cos he was scared. Petrified by the idea he could lose her, so he had made sure his actions were nothing but friendly with her. They were best friends ever since they met, over six years ago when they both had started in the BAU, but despite their feelings, none of them had acted on them.

- “No way!”- Derek pretended to be shocked, and Spencer was so drunk he didn't get Morgan's sarcasm. Instead, he nodded and sighed.

- “Yes, I love her... I am in love, I think about her all day long when I'm not with her, and when she is around, I can't stop staring, she is the sun and I orbit around her existence.”

Derek widened his eyes as he listened to the corniest words he had ever heard Spencer pronounce before.

- “And I need help, 'cos I don't know what to do about it”

- “I think you should tell her, kid”- but Spencer shook his head frantically as if his friend had asked him to do the worst thing he could have ever thought.

- “No man, really, you've got a pretty good chance there, and you don't wanna live in the regret of thinking what could have been if you had done anything”

- “No, Morgan, I can't, I can't do that”- Spencer nearly started shaking at his best friend's suggestion. The fact he was being honest about his feelings to his friend was one thing, but sharing those feelings with the woman of his dreams, that wasn't on his plans.

Why? He couldn't find a good reason to do it. As far as he knew, letting (Y/N) know he loved her as no one had ever loved her before, could only mean the end of their friendship. And Spencer could live having (Y/N) only as his friend for the rest of his life, though it would break his heart deeper and deeper every day. But he couldn't live not having her by his side. He knew he couldn't. And he was sure if he revealed his true feelings to her, she was going to leave his side and disappear, end their friendship, and ignore his existence for the rest of his life.

Yes, Spencer was being dramatic, but he was scared. His mind kept telling him as soon as he told her how much he loved her, (Y/N) was going to disappear from his life as fast as everyone he cared for had done before.

- “If you don't want to tell her, then what's your plan, kid?”- Morgan asked the one million dollar question. Spencer just stared at him and took a sip of his whiskey.

- “I don't know”

- “Shit!”- Derek nearly shouted- “That's the first time I ever hear you say such a thing! man!”

- “Shut up! I don't know why I'm telling you this, I knew you were gonna make fun of me”

Spencer rested his head on his arm on the table and closed his eyes.

- “I just thought 'cos you are so smooth with women, maybe you could help me”

- “I can help you, Reid, I can, you just have to be open to the idea of telling her how you feel”

- “How can I tell her? she is gonna hate me”

- “She won't!”- Morgan tapped on his friend's back again and tried to calm him down.

- “How do you know?! You have never been rejected by any woman ever since I met you!”- but it didn't work, mostly because there was nothing on earth that could calm Spencer down at that point.

- “I know she likes you”

- “Sure, right!”- Reid snorted and finished what was left in his glass- “I need another one.”

- “You need to slow down, maybe get some water and fresh air”- Morgan stopped him when he tried to get to the bar and pulled him back to his seat

- “No, no no, you don't get it, Morgan, she went on a date with some random guy from a dating website...”

And Morgan realized where his friend's fears were coming from.

- “She is looking for someone, and clearly that someone ain't me!”

- “Maybe she is looking for someone to stop thinking about you”- Spencer furrowed his brows at Derek's words and stared at his hands on the table for a moment.

- “Come on man! you have to give yourself some credit! you are smart, you are funny, she is always laughing when she is around you”

- “At me! laughing at me! everybody laughs at me!”- for someone so smart, Dr. Reid was acting like an ass.

- “With you! be real, she is the girl who laughs at your jokes, listens to your rambling for hours, and actually pays attention to what you say”- Reid nodded, thinking of the sound of her laughter- “And you two spend most of your weekends off together!”

- “Clearly, she doesn't want to do that anymore, if she is looking for guys on dating apps”- Reid sounded bitter and hurt, two things he had never been very good at dealing with.

- “Why don't you ask her?”- Derek knew what Spencer was going to answer at that, the same he had said when he told him to be honest with her about his feelings: "No way". But instead, he only got a deep silence back.

- “Reid?”

- “You know what? I'm gonna ask her”- he whispered and nodded at himself- “I wanna ask her if she doesn't want to spend time with me anymore”

Morgan widened his eyes in shock.

- “And I'm gonna ask her now!”

- “Wait, kid”- but this time, he couldn't stop him, Reid grabbed his sachet, his jacket and stormed out of the bar, stumbling against a few people on his way out, 'cos he was too drunk to walk straight.

- “Kid! come one, wait!”

Derek followed him as fast as he could and grabbed his arm as he walked to her house. (Y/N) lived a few blocks from the bar, Reid didn't need a cab to get there, and he decided to face her and ask her why she didn't want to spend time with him anymore.

Of course, that wasn't the reason (Y/N) had gone out on that date. She actually wanted to spend all of her free time with him, but Prentiss had her forced to go out after hearing she hadn't been out in at least two years. Two years without a date. Two years actually without sex. Emily nearly died at the news, she couldn't believe anyone could live like that, and so, she forced her friend out with some random guy from a website.

- “There's no way you are spending another Friday night on your own! you need to have fun!”

- “I'm not gonna spend Friday night on my own! Friday nights are board game nights with Reid”- Prentiss frowned and crossed her arms on her chest staring at (Y/N) pouting.

- “Whatever it is you are thinking, please don't say it”

- “Boardgames with Reid, please tell me that means he is fucking your brains off on his dining table on top of a monopoly board”- (Y/N) wished her friend was right, but no.

- “Actually... no, it's Jenga night”

- “You are so going out this weekend!”

And she did, not Friday night, but Saturday afternoon. And it had been one of the worst dates (Y/N) had ever been on. Just like she had said that day back in the office, the guy was cute but dumb. On his behalf, she was in love with Spencer Walter Reid, any guy on earth was going to look dumb compared to him. But to be honest, he wasn't really bright either. And (Y/N) wasn't into him at all. They had a coffee, went to see a movie, and called it the night.

Spencer had no idea about that date, she never wanted to tell him 'cos it meant nothing to her. But after hearing the story of the date earlier that day, Spencer was a mess. He didn't know what to think, and that was the reason he was out there, drunk, asking Derek for advice.

He had tried to avoid her for the rest of the afternoon, he was upset, and he knew he was going to be passive-aggressive if they shared any word - he couldn't help it even when he knew he didn't have to act that way- and so, he didn't look from his paperwork until it was time to leave.

It was a good thing they were swamped with work, and (Y/N) didn't notice her best friend was giving him the cold shoulder from a safe distance.

- “Reid, Reid, wait!”- Morgan grabbed his best friend's arm and stopped him in his tracks- “What are you doing? you can't talk to her like this!”

- “I want to know! I deserve to know!”

- “Kid, you are drunk, you are not thinking straight”

- “Or am I?”- Spencer was slurring and his eyes were half-closed. Still, he knew what he was doing. He was making a mistake on purpose 'cos at that point, he was desperate.

- “Come on man, you are not thinking this, (Y/N) never said she is going out 'cos she doesn't want to spend her time you with you, those are your insecurities talking”

- “If she didn't do it because of that, then why?”- but Morgan couldn't answer, not because he didn't know the answer, but because Reid's retchings forced him to help him and pull his scarf and sachet back as he started puking in the middle of the sidewalk.

- “I think I'm gonna take you home now, kid”

Spencer felt like shit. He wasn't only drunk, but also miserable. He hated getting intoxicated like his, but he had no idea what else to do. He was lost and scared and wretched. He thought talking with Derek was gonna help, but he didn't know what to expect from his friend anyway, the only advice he got from Morgan was sharing his feelings with (Y/N), but... Reid knew he wasn't doing that, not in this life. Not if it meant he could lose her.

- “What the hell is going on here?”- (Y/N)'s voice felt like cold water running down Spencer's spine. He paused his puking for a second to look at her, and kind of smiled.

- “Oh! hey Buttercup!”- and that was all he could say before he continued vomiting.

- “Derek?”- the woman was shocked, had Spencer just called her by a cute nickname? she had always done it with him, he was her honey bunny, but he had never done it before... and she loved it- “What the fuck?”

- “Hey pretty girl!”- Morgan did his best to play it cool, though he was also freaking out. He knew (Y/N) wasn't going to be happy to know he let Spencer get that drunk. He was aware it wasn't his fault (not completely), but he also knew she was going to blame him anyway.

- “Why is Spencer drunk and puking on the front steps of my building?”

- “There's a very logical explanation for this”- Derek tried to elaborate on that idea, but nothing came to his head.

- “We had a few drinks”- Reid whispered and sighed, after everything he had eaten and drank had left his stomach.

- “Did you know alcohol is essentially a toxin, and so it can easily upset your stomach and cause you to vomit, particularly if you consume too much?”

Of course, being drunk didn't stop Spencer from being himself. After all, he didn't know how to be anybody else.

- “And now I'm taking him home”- Derek wrapped an arm around his friend's shoulder and looked around, trying to find a cab.

- “But what are you guys doing here?”- (Y/N) wasn't getting what was going on, and she was honestly concerned Spencer was intoxicated. She knew he lived alone, no one was going to take care of him.

- “Honey, do you wanna come inside?”

- “Yes, yes, I do”- Reid didn't hesitate- “We should go inside”

- “No, you are drunk, you are going to your house”- Derek didn't let Spencer move, knowing he was too drunk to have a coherent conversation with (Y/N), and making his best to prevent him from making a huge mistake. 

Morgan knew she was in love with him, but he didn't want him to talk to her under the influence, he knew it was something Spencer was going to regret in the morning.

- “Are you sure you don't wanna let him stay here?”- the girl asked and bit her lip, worried- “He can stay on my couch...”

- “He's gonna be ok, I'll take care of him”- Morgan smiled at (Y/N) and nodded- “It's my fault he is like this, I'm not gonna let you clean this mess.”

Her lips curled into a short smile. She looked at her best friend wasted, puke on his pants and shoes. His hair was a mess - a mess she wanted to run her fingers through, even when he was intoxicated - and his brow eyes were glassy. Even drunk he was gorgeous.

- “I'll call you tomorrow, ok?”- she whispered and Spencer nodded- “And I'll see you at work... I'll bring aspirins and coffee”- he kept nodding, feeling sick at the stomach again.

Derek stopped a cab and helped Reid in as (Y/N) stood at the sidewalk staring at her friends leaving.

- “What the fuck just happened?”

- “You owe me, kid”- Reid heard those words as he hugged his pillow and closed his eyes. He was on his bed, still fully dressed. He had only managed to take out his satchel and his shoes.

- “I wanted to stay over”- he murmured, making Morgan chuckle. The kid was acting like one.

- “Believe me, you'll thank me in the morning”

[hopelesshawks]

If you're still doing it, and if you feel inspired with the character : Bakugou Katsuki and the song "From Now On" from The Greatest Showman.

You can write with another character if this one doesn't inspire you!

Send me a song and a character (still open)

Ohhhh I love this!! Pro hero!Bakugo who let all the fame of being number 2 get in the way of his relationship me thinks. Thanks for sending this in 🥰

Bakugo used to love the fame and attention that came with being a top hero.

He used to love the way people would scream his name with stars in their eyes when they saw him; the way the idiots in suits over at the HPSC would congratulate him on his incident resolution rate; the way the press would sing his praises; the way his name sounded after the words Number Two Hero even though he’d much rather hear it after number one. He loved it all.

But you?

You fucking hated it.

You always said it was the worst part of hero work. The fans, the paparazzi, all of it grated on you. You hated that since Bakugo had cracked the top 10 you two couldn’t go on date night without getting blinded by cameras. You hated going to HPSC galas in an expensive outfit you’d never wear a second time, sipping overpriced champagne even though you’d be just as happy with something a tenth of the price. You hated that you couldn’t go on social media without seeing speculation about your relationship and your sex life literally everywhere or even worse hundreds of people all stating exactly why you weren’t good enough to be with the Bakugo Katsuki. But what you hated the most was the way Bakugo loved it; the way he preened under the praise, his chest puffing up with pride, ego absolutely blooming under all the superficial attention; the way he’d kiss you in front of paparazzi just so the headlines would be filled with mention of you being his. The rest you could deal with but it made your skin crawl how much he’d change when the public’s watchful eye was on him. At home he was the man you fell in love with, but the minute you left he regressed to the obnoxious asshole you’d first met during your first year at UA.

It was a recipe for disaster and in retrospect Katsuki really should’ve seen the break up coming. He can barely remember what had set off the argument in the first place, probably another gaudy headline or crude Twitter trend about the two of you. You’d been upset about it, raving about invasions of privacy and feeling violated and he’d been dismissive, the way he always was when it came to these things.

“It comes with the territory, just fuckin’ get used ta it already,” he had scoffed.

“The issue is you encourage it Katsuki! You care more about the fame and how good it makes you feel than you do how that added scrutiny makes me feel!” you fired back.

“Why can’t you just fucking deal with it??”

“I shouldn’t have to!”

“Well maybe if you did your fuckin ranking would be better!”

It was a low blow. Bakugo knew it then and he still knows it now. You try so hard to be the best hero you can be, but at the end of the day popularity plays a nontrivial role in the ranking system and being the “““just average””” significant other to one of Japan’s biggest rising stars isn’t a recipe for popularity.

“Get out….”

Your voice had been dangerously low. He’ll never forget the way it managed to sound both terrifyingly lethal and devastatingly heartbroken.

“Shit, wait (y/n) I didn’t mean that I-”

“I said get out!” you had yelled, voice quaking with pent up emotion as you started shoving him out the door. If he really didn’t want to move he could’ve easily resisted but at the time he’d been too shocked to even try, reeling backwards and letting you force him back into the hallway of your apartment building.

“Talk to me when Bakugo Katsuki comes back, I’m fucking sick of Pro Hero Dynamight,” you had said before promptly slamming the door in his face.

In the month that followed Katsuki threw everything into his work, taking longer shifts and pushing himself harder so that by the time he got home he was too beat up to feel the aching pain in his heart and too exhausted to notice his apartment didn’t feel like home the way yours did. He ignored the pitying looks from his friends, brushed off their concerned words and sympathetic gazes with grumbled “I’m fine”s and eye rolls. He filled the hole you left in him with the praise and admiration of the adoring public.

And then came the day you’d been warning him about since he first became a household name.

“The Cost of Victory: Pro Hero Dynamight destroys city during villain chase”

The story matched the headline, tallying up all of the damage he’d caused to buildings and other public property while trying to apprehend someone’s half ass attempt at recreating nomu. As shoddy as the thing was it could take a fucking hit and there was no denying the collateral damage was decently expansive. What the article failed to mention, however, was the amount of damage done before Bakugo had arrived on scene. It made sure to comment on the number of casualties in the incident but conveniently left out how much larger that number would be had Katsuki spent more time worrying about some stupid hunks of metal over catching the damn monstrosity and saving civilian lives. He guesses “Pro Hero Dynamight does his best despite being out gunned and having zero back up at his disposal” isn’t as catchy or clickworthy of a headline.

The very same websites showering him in praise just a day or two before now viciously rip into him. He can’t take a step outside his apartment without seeing article after article shredding him to pieces or getting a camera shoved into his face asking for comment on the criticism. His Twitter feed is full of former fans deriding him for falling short of perfection, calling him a narcissist, a showboat, a fucking menace to society as if he’s the sixteen year old kid chained up at the sports festival all over again. So he stops leaving his apartment entirely.

Kirishima is the one who finally gets him out again. The bar they go to is small, further away from the downtown area than most people are willing to stray. Between that and the fact it’s still relatively early in the evening, they have the place to themselves. The only other soul is the owner/bartender who seems entirely uninterested in the fact that Red Riot and Dynamight are patronizing his establishment. It’s perfect, giving Bakugo the space he needs to rant to his best friend. And rant he does. He lets it all pour out while he paces: the frustration, the rage, the disappointment, the guilt, until there’s nothing left in him except an aching sadness that has nothing to do with the fake fans and shitty headlines. “Y’know what the worst fuckin’ part is?” he rages, face red from bellowing for the past lord knows how long and tears already welling in his eyes at what he’s about to admit. Kirishima barely has time to ask what the worst part is before Katsuki is choking out around a frustrated sob “I wouldn’t even give a shit if I still had (y/n).”

Kirishima is out of his seat and pulling his friend into a hug in an instant. He lets Bakugo shake apart, doesn’t mind the tears soaking into his shirt or how tightly the other man is gripping onto him. He stands solid and firm, the same way he always has and always will for Katsuki until the sobs turn to hiccups. “They’re worried about you, you know,” Eijirou finally tells him. “Yea? How the fuck you figure that Shitty Hair?” Bakugo grumbles miserably into his shoulder. “They’ve called me every day since the article came out to check on you,” the red head admits and it’s enough to make Katsuki stiffen in his hold, scared to hope. “Really?” he asks, voice gruff but quiet. “Really. So are you gonna go to them or what?”

You’ve been staring at your phone for at least an hour, debating whether to call Bakugo or not, when a knock on your door snaps you out of your pained contemplation. You pull the long sleeves of the hoodie Bakugo gave you for your birthday down over your hands as you move to answer the door. Imagine your surprise when the very man who’d been plaguing your thoughts is the one standing outside your door. He looks rough. His hands are shoved into his pockets, back hunched over, face red and puffy, and even though he hasn’t looked you in the eye yet you can tell his are red rimmed. He’s been crying, you realize, and it breaks your heart a little. “Ya just gonna stand there or can I come in?” he asks and it snaps you out of your thoughts again. “Right yea sorry come in I guess,” you say, stepping out of the way to let him in.

He’s almost twitchy, like he wants to make himself comfortable the way he always used to but can’t. You wince a little when you realize it’s the correct assumption to make. Still he doesn’t say anything, he just stands there looking somehow simultaneously out of place and like he never left. “What are you doing here?” you finally sigh. “You said talk to you when Bakugo Katsuki came back and he—or I—or whatever did,” he mutters and a pang of something that feels suspiciously like guilt hits you at the words. “Oh… Is—is that all you wanted to say or?” He glares at a distant point over your left shoulder, presumably collecting his thoughts, before he finally meets your gaze. “Look I-” he breaks eye contact again, growling a little in frustration at himself as he continues to struggle to find words. You don’t say anything though, knowing he needs to work through it himself. “Things have been pretty shit for me lately,” he finally admits. You can’t help but scoff at the comment although one look at him and his pained expression has you regretting it. You clear your throat awkwardly. “Sorry, yea, keep going.”

He huffs before continuing and even though he still won’t meet your eyes you can tell how difficult this all is for him.

“Look things have been pretty fuckin’ shitty lately with everyone and their goddamn cousin in Japan hatin’ me but it’s made me realize some shit. I’ve been so fuckin’ focused on chasin’ the fame and the fans or whatever that I kinda forgot about the important stuff…”

He only trails off for a moment, steeling himself for whatever he’s about to say next. It’s almost funny how much it reminds you of him right before a big fight.

“But from now on,” he starts, finally meeting your gaze, puffing out his chest as if daring you to challenge whatever’s going to come out of his mouth next. “From now on I’m not gonna let all that stupid shit blind me alright? I promise, from now on I’m only focusin’ on the real people in my life, not the goddamn extras. Ok?”

His eyes are blazing as he finishes and it literally takes your breath away.

“Ok.”

“Ok, then….” he trails off, his eyes slide away again as his confidence wanes, “then can I come back home again?”

Your heart shatters and forms anew at the words as you find your feet moving before you’ve even told them to. You throw yourself into his arms, pulling him close, the jagged edges you both left in each other the night you broke up re-aligning and mending themselves. “Of course you can Katsuki, I’ve missed you,” you sigh, each word wrapped in relief and joy. “Fuckin’ missed you too dumbass,” he huffs back, although you don’t miss how wet it sounds. When you pull back it’s only a fraction and only so you can reel him in for a gentle kiss, pouring every missed I love you into it so there’s no room for doubting if you’ve truly forgiven him.

It’s a promise. A promise to do better from now on. And Katsuki means every single second of it.

General Taglist: @ahtsuwu @oikawaandkuroostan @oliviasslut @black-rose-29

[americachavez]

did cas really tell dean to kneel before their new god? did that actually happen? i thought him beating the shit out of dean in that alley was the most unrestrainedly horny thing this show had ever done ACTUALLY you know what scratch that new question: top horny moments from the cw's supernatural (2005 - 2020)

getting this ask feels like my sins of the last week have been weighed against the Trials I Have Gone Through since the premier of supernatural on the wb in september of 2005 and I’m not sure if it is a punishment or reward

some notes before we begin:

the ep with dean’s male siren was like, conceptually horny but not actually that horny because the dude was uglie. I’m sorry to this man

all you sam girls out there. I respect you but I do not respect jared padalecki who is JUST tall and has zero sex appeal. but those eps where he’s like, drinking ruby’s blood and then eating her pussy are. you know. I’ll give you that

I am ONLY UP TO SEASON 10 so fair warning this is not comprehensive but the horniness does seem to drop off sharply after the mark of cain is no longer in play lol gotta love a good demon murder tattoo plot

this is easily the most insane thing I’ve ever done, including the destiel manifesto

S1 EP12: the scene where dean gets healed by the faith healer, on his knees with a hand in his hair and looking somewhere between religious ecstasy, brain death and an orgasm. starting this list off great

S1 EP22: azazel possessing john winchester. no I will not explain further if u know u know <3

S3 EP10: dean being taunted by a dream version of himself, this is where we first got the daddy’s blunt little instrument line. still burned in my hippocampus a good 13 years later thank yew

S4 EP1: dean crawling out of his own grave covered in grave dirt. hot. the HANDPRINT. HOT. also tangent but this reveal after the s3 finale was WILD back in 2008 I hollered in my dorm room after canvassing for obama. simpler times man

S4 EP 1: cas’ intro scene. the barn. the shadow wings. the hair??? getting stabbed in the chest by the man you just pulled out of hell. getting aaaallll up in that personal space. his little eyebrow. “you don’t think you deserve to be saved.” OUTRAGEOUSLY FLAMING

S4 EP02: “I dragged you out of hell I can throw you back in.” <<< this angel tops. mark dean down as scared and horny etc

S4 EP16: this ENTIRE EPISODE but specifically the part where dean tortures alastair as some kind of foreplay and then alastair kicks his ass. carved you into a new animal. jesus.

S4 EP16: wait I forgot about the part where cas also gets his ass kicked and looks all....hm. dazed and covered in blood while he’s on his knees and about to die. yeah.

S5 EP4: I mean this entire ep is unfairly horny considering everyone is dying of a zombie plague and hasn’t showered in like, 4 years but if I had to pick one hmmm. the dean/dean interrogation scene with the panty kink yeah I know it’s not original but hm. it happened. also misha collins just being able to convey that CAS IS A FLEXIBLE SLUT with a single roll of his shoulders. who SAYS this man can’t act!!!!!

S5 EP18: the ALLEY SCENE. DEAN DOESN’T FIGHT BACK. CAS HOLDS HIM UP OFF THE GROUND AND THEN THROWS HIM ACROSS THE ALLEY. WHY DID EVERYONE THINK CAS COULDN’T TOP. you all had brainworms.

S5 EP18: when cas locks dean in the panic room to stop him from saying yes to michael and “well cas not for nothing but the last person who looked at me like that I got laid” I hate this show. wait I think the blow me cas line is in this episode too what the fuck were they on here

S6 EP5: the scene where dean gets turned into a vampire. between the old dude who I think calls dean a pretty boy (??) and soulless sam....watching??? no ******* but there were just some absolutely foul energies in that scene and I still do not understand WHAT they were thinking

S6 EP20: cas doing a double smite on two demons by slamming them to the ground and then shoving another demon back in its vessel and then smiting him in the same motion. TOP. ENERGY.

S6 EP22: season 6 is possibly cas’ horniest season because he’s like, going through angel puberty after getting his first boner for dean, but the final cas eps are. whoof. cas eats a bunch of souls and proclaims himself to be a new god in order to handle said boner, and then the season ends with cas telling them to bow down and profess their love to him, their new lord, or he will destroy them. note: the way this is framed makes it look like cas is only staring at dean while he says this, even though sam and bobby are also there. the season ends with dramatic zooms on both cas and dean’s faces respectively. this made me actively regret ditching this show after s5 lol

S8 EP??: literally EVERY SINGLE PURGATORY FLASHBACK. cas dean and benny are all purgatory hot in the “pop 10 cranberry pills and risk the UTI” kind of way but also. dean being the hot girl bottom between two tops who hate each other. I really. whew. I need to go take a shower.

S8 EP17: if I get canceled for including the crypt scene on this list I blame you bud. but dean on his knees begging a brainwashed cas to stop killing him WAS sexy. how many times has dean been on his knees in this list wait there’s another one coming up next jsldjfsldkjf

S9 EP2: abaddon getting dean on his knees (YEAH) and pulling his hair and praising him for always coming when called HELLO???? the only thing that ruins this is dean says “I can’t tell if we’re gonna fight or make out” because this is the CW and they won’t let him say fuck

S9 EP6: ah. this entire episode is Emotionally Horny but the horny horny part is when they’re in the car and dean is telling cas to unbutton his shirt and. watches. I know this was on my destiel manifesto but I need it here too

S9 EP9: cas, covered in blood, slitting another angel’s throat and eating his grace after getting tortured. that shot alone made me understand why this website was so goddamn horny for misha collins for nearly a damn decade

S9 EP11: MARK OF CAIN BABEY. cain watching dean beat up a bunch of demons as an audition for taking on the mark, while crowley also is a fucking voyeur to the whole thing. cain is also a hot silver fox with daddy energies. I said what I said

S9 EP 16: dean getting the first blade. he’s chained to a pillar and being menaced by a foppish dandy who wants to add him to his “collection” (WOW). dean then kills him with the blade and whew. murder is sexy sometimes

S9 EP21: dean being pinned against a wall by abaddon’s power, then using the mark of cain to break her hold, calling the first blade to him psychically and then killing her. god the mark of cain is hot

S9 EP23: dean waking up with the demon eyes NUT

S10 EP2: demon dean beating up that dude with the boring backstory and kicking his ass. really was a go on baby I got your flower moment because I hated that dude and I love demon dean

S10 EP3: demon dean being chained up and taunting sam about how his brother is gone, then hunting sam through the bunker. demon dean in general was VERY fun for me, someone who loves trash

S10 EP9: dean going berserk and killing a bunch of pedophile rapists/child abusers. I’m sorry I know this show is trying to preach morality at me about monsters and unnecessary murder and humanity or whatever but we blew past that like 8 SEASONS AGO. also the mark of cain is sexy

S10 EP14: the rest of this list is really gonna be mark of cain stuff isn’t it look I’m here to have fun. cain and dean’s fight. cain continuously tossing his mane of hair back and taunting dean with the picture of what he’s going to become, who he’s going to kill. dean begging cain to tell him that he can stop, and then ultimately killing him. rip daddy.

S11 EP4: again I have not watched this however. every shot of this episode is PRESTIGE TELEVISION because driving a muscle car is sexy. and especially the shot of dean all beat to hell and begging his car to start and giving her a little kiss from his fingers to her dash. ugh. masculinity.

S12 EP10: the bearded salt-and-pepper daddy look returns, only it’s an angel this time and he’s wearing a vest and shirtsleeves and he swordfights with a hot redheaded lady in a suit and an eyepatch. this show is good sometimes!!! and oh fuck lol I just realized this is the same guy who played krissy’s hot hunter dad in s7 probably the first guy who’s hotter as an angel than a hunter. huh.

S12 EP 11: dean riding larry the mechanical bull to “broomstick cowboy.” I have no idea where this factors into the ep but I have seen. the youtube clip

S13 EP23: from what I can tell s13 is way more emotionally horny than boner horny, although dean burning cas’ body was sexy. but the horniest part was dean saying yes to michael and then michael taking over and saying “thanks for the suit.” we are going to ignore the silliest fight scene in existence as well as the final shot ending on a FREEZE FRAME like a goddamn tiktok

S14: not gonna pick a specific moment because I have not watched yet!!! but michael dean is hot. idk why michael is weirdly hot and I cannot stand any iteration of lucifer on this television programme. it should be the reverse but I’m forever an older sibling stan apparently. someone who is catholic could probably explain this better.

S15 EP13: genevieve padalecki and danneel ackles fight flirting as ruby and anael I CANNOT BELIEVE THEY HELD OUT ON THIS TILL THE LAST SEASON

I know I am missing things but this is already an absolutely incomprehensible screed. I know I’m missing shit from the latter seasons but give me time I’m pacing myself

[jiminsstarrynight]

Fireworks

Fireworks Genre: Smut/Fluff Pairing: Yoongi/Reader A/N: @rainbepourin was my first friend in this fandom and let’s be real, I’d die for her. Pretty sure she wouldn’t let me though, so I wrote her fic instead. Thank you for always putting up with me and my crap. I love you tons. <3

                                                          ************

You were placing the last few items into the basket when there was a knock at the door. Dropping the flap that would cover the contents, you hurried from the kitchen down the hall to the front door of your apartment. You pulled open the door and felt your stomach twitch in excitement when you found him standing before you. 

"Yoongi! You're early," you said, a slightly accusatory tone accompanying the observation. 

He smiled sheepishly and ran his fingers through his hair. "I know. I couldn't wait any longer." He held up a tall paper bag. "But I brought wine."

You laughed as you pretended to contemplate his offer. "Mmmm….forgiven," you said with a giggle before shaking your head. "Shit. I'm totally in the way. Come in." You stepped back out of the doorframe and waited for him to close the door behind him before you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed his cheek. He smiled and placed his free hand on your hip, sliding around your waist, leaning forward to kiss you softly on the lips, and you could feel the blush heating your cheeks. 

"Come on," you said. "I've got the snacks packed and just need to get the blankets together." You turned and headed back towards the kitchen, very aware of how slowly he drifted his hand from your waist. Stopping at the hall closet on the way past, you grabbed a stack of fluffy blankets before continuing to the kitchen. You put the blankets on the counter beside the basket and lifted the lid to make sure you had everything you needed. 

“Oh, wine glasses,” you mumbled and turned towards the cupboard. You crashed into Yoongi, standing directly behind you with a huge smile on his face. His arms wrapped around you in a crushing hug and he laughed. 

“Slow down,” he said, burying his face in your hair. “You’re the one who said I was early, right? We should take advantage,” he said before lowering his lips to yours. You responded instantly, raising your arms to rest them over his shoulders and stepping backwards as he guided you back towards the counter. You scraped your nails along the short hair at the nape of his neck and he hissed into your mouth, slotting his thigh in between your legs. 

“We don’t want to miss the show,” you said weakly, not sure you wanted to put up much of a fight. Your hips rolled against his thigh and he pulled back from your lips for a moment, a smirk on his face. 

“Is that a challenge?” His hands slid down from your waist to your ass and he lifted you effortlessly, sitting you on the counter. “Fortunately, you dressed for the occasion,” he said, nodding at your short black skirt. His hands slid along your thighs and you shivered as they passed under the hem. He pressed his lips to yours again as his hands slid further, sliding his tongue along the seam between your lips to encourage you to deepen the kiss. As your lips parted and his tongue slipped inside, his right hand dropped to cup your centre and you felt him draw in a breath sharply as the heat radiated against it. You would have been embarrassed about how ready you were already, but his finger was sliding along your slit and gathering the wetness already starting to collect there and suddenly your head was empty. His fingers teased your entrance slowly before sliding two fingers inside of you. You gripped his shoulders tightly as your head fell from his lips to his shoulder and he chuckled. 

“And to think you were trying to talk me out of this,” he murmured in your ear. “Seems to me like this is exactly what you want right now.” His fingers moved easily in and out of you and he pressed a third one inside on the next slide inwards. 

“Oh my god, just shut up and fuck me already,” you groaned against his shoulder. 

“As the lady wishes,” he said, and you could feel the chuckle deep in his chest as he slid his fingers out of you and lifted them to his mouth to suck them clean. 

“Delicious,” he said softly before undoing his belt and pants and allowing his erection to spring free. He reached behind him into his back pocket and pulled out a condom, tearing open the package expertly and rolling it onto himself smoothly. Grabbing your hips, he tugged you forward so you were sitting right at the edge and held you there firmly to give you reassurance that you wouldn’t fall before stepping between your legs and sliding into you in one smooth movement. 

“Yoongi,” you gasped as his hard length stretched you as it always did, a full but perfect feeling. He began to thrust into you after a short pause to ensure you were ready, his movements short and rapid. He moved one hand to hold the small of your back, holding you tightly in place and brought the other hand to your clit, circling the hard nub quickly. He knew your body so well, had from the first time you slept together, that you knew it wasn’t going to be long before he sent you over the edge. You tensed around him and the way he growled in response told you he wasn’t kidding about being done before the show that night. 

“God, you’re so perfect,” he said in your ear, his voice rough with arousal. “Just letting me fuck you on the kitchen counter...but just you wait. Once we get to bed tonight I’m going to take such good care of you.” He pressed his thumb hard into your clit and that combined with the words he whispered into your ear was enough to send you over the edge. Your legs locked around his waist as you let out a cry, walls pulsating around him as he thrust into you. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he growled. “You feel so good wrapped around me like that.” You clung to him tightly as he thrust into you hard a few more times and then he stilled, and even throught the condom you could feel him pulsing inside of you as he reached his high. You ran your hands up and down his back as he came back down, breathing heavily into your neck as he held you closely. He slid out of you carefully before getting rid of the condom and then crossed the few short steps back to you, smoothing your skirt back down over your thighs and smirking. He pointed at the clock. 

“11:20. Plenty of time,” he said, laughing. 

“You’re such a little shit,” you said, joining in his laughter. 

“But you love me. Besides,” he said, a sly smile crossing his face, “you were clearly prepared...miss no underwear.” 

Your cheeks grew hot again. “Well I mean, I planned on getting laid at some point tonight. I just assumed it’d be later,” you said, giggling. 

“Oh, it will be,” Yoongi said with a wink. He put his hands on your hips and helped you hop off the counter as you finally moved forward to retrieve the wine glasses you’d been seeking before. You placed them in the basket with the rest of the items and handed the basket to Yoongi. 

“You’re insatiable. Carry this,” you said with a smile. 

“You[‘re no better. Yes ma’am,” he said, his face straight as ever but laughter sparkling in his eyes. Grabbing the blankets, you led him out your front door and up a staircase at the end of the hall. Two flights of stairs later, you pushed through the heavy door and found yourselves on the roof, a large flat area without seating or anything fancy, but with lots of space and, thankfully, privacy. You moved close to the low wall at the front of the building and began spreading out blankets, making a plush area for you to sit. Yoongi set the basket down in front of you and sat down on the blanket, spreading his legs and encouraging you to make yourself comfortable against him. As you did so, he brought the edges of the blankets over your laps, wrapping you in the blanket and then wrapping his arms around your torso. You pulled out your phone and quickly went to the website of the local radio station, who’d been promoting their New Years’ countdown for weeks. You settled back into Yoongi’s embrace and closed your eyes, savouring the feel of his arms around you and the music floating around you both. 

You didn’t realise you’d drifted off until you felt Yoongi squeezing your arm lightly. “Hey, sleeping beauty,” he said softly in your ear. “You’re gonna miss the countdown if you keep that up,” he said, pointing at the clock on your phone that indicated it was 11:55. 

You shook your head lightly. “Sorry, sorry,” you said. “I was just so comfortable and you’re keeping me so warm.” You giggled. “Leave it to me to get so stoked about New Years’ and then totally miss it.” 

Yoongi leaned forward to kiss your cheek. “It’d be on brand for you, but I’d never let you miss your favourite celebration,” he said softly into your ear. You shivered at the sensation and leaned back into him again, both of you admiring the clear, starry night as you waited for the radio’s countdown to begin. 

10…

9…

8…

7…

6…

5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

The world exploded around you as fireworks went off, and when you turned towards Yoongi his face was illuminated. His hand slipped out of the blankets to cup your cheek and he placed a gentle kiss on your lips. When you broke apart he had a smile on his face. 

“Happy new year, Yoongi,” you whispered. 

“Happy new year, Y/N,” he answered, lifting his face to watch the fireworks. When you turned to do the same, he tugged you tightly into his chest, his hands sliding up and down your arms slowly, and you knew that if it was true that how you rang in the new year indicated how your year would go, the best part of your life was yet to come.

[thatesqcrush]

Team Bonding

Bryan Kneef x Reader. NSFW. Warnings: dub-con, because he’s her superior. Oral sex, vaginal fingering, and fisting. Yes. You read that right. Also squirting. You have been warned. Oh, and this covers ice-skating in my naughty & nice bingo. This is most definitely naughty. 

WC: 2.8K

***

“Bryan Kneef doesn’t do ice skating.” A voice boomed from down the hall.

“Stop referring to yourself in third-person you psycho.” You rolled your eyes as you headed towards the voice. You paused in front of a decorative mirror in the empty law firm and rubbed lip balm over your lips.

“I told you, Bryan Kneef doesn’t do ice skating.”

You rubbed your lips together, and then made way to the lobby, finding the acerbic head of litigation at STR Laurie, sitting in a chair, with a scowl on his face. Which, lets face it, was nothing new for Bryan Kneef.

“Look, I know this is the last thing you wanted to be doing. But your bosses up there, wanted to make the transition with Reddick Boseman smooth.” You pointed towards the ceiling and then pointed back down. “It’s not my fault we got paired up together. You said I could choose what we got to do. I chose ice skating.”

You walked past him and hit the button, calling for the elevator. You crossed your arms and began tapping your foot, irritated. “Well?”

Bryan glowered and then stood. “Fine.”

**

When STR Laurie announced that they wanted to do a team building exercise with Reddick Boseman & Lockhart, you were less than thrilled. The last thing you wanted to do was spend more time with work on your weekend. Especially when you were paired with Bryan. You were not blind, the man was fucking gorgeous and he cropped up in many a fantasy with your battery operated boyfriend. However, his attitude left much to be desired. He would work you and the rest of the paralegal department to the bone. You knew from his bio on the firm website, that he started himself as a paralegal upon graduating from Northwestern Law – you figured he’d be cognizant of how to treat junior staff, probably having been through it himself. Instead, he chose to continue the cycle of asshole treatment. Bryan tried to get out of it himself, but his own boss Gavin Firth told him to make nice and take part – especially if he wanted to keep leading the litigation department and not give it to Diane. Backed into a corner, Bryan reluctantly agreed.

Initially, he had hoped he would be paired with a fellow colleague who he would be able to convince to blow off this event and hit high end bar with. And if not that, he had hoped it was the blonde secretary with big tits two floors down that he could wham, bam, thank you ma’am and then move on from. Instead – he got stuck with you – the mousy senior paralegal. He knew who were – he knew who everyone was. You had worked with him on a few cases before. You were very good at your job but otherwise, left little to the imagination with your baggy, shapeless sacks of dresses and frumpy sweaters. There was no desire for him to try to get under your skirt. Not when there was a bevvy of women and men he could have, just a dial away.

As the elevator went down, Bryan chose to study your profile. Though you were bundled up to the hilt in a white puffer coat and burgundy hat, he could still see your long lashes and lush lips that had a sheen from whatever you put on them. His nose caught the barest whiff of perfume and he had to admit that it smelled lovely. The elevator landed and you walked out first. He was surprised to see a shapely ass under the dark denim fitted jeans you wore.

STR was close to Millennium Park. You both made way through to the ice skating rink, barely a word between you. You were meeting a few other STR/Boseman colleagues and friends from your department who were already there. Bryan paid for the skating rental and soon enough you were both on the ice. You skated towards your friends with ease, leaving the attorney behind, gripping the sides. A look of panic was on his face as he tried to maintain balance. You turned around and let out a derisive laugh before skating back towards him, offering your hand.

“Is the big bad lawyer afraid of a little ice?” You mocked.

“Shut up and leave me alone. I am here, aren’t I? Go back to your friends and go take your pictures. Make fun of me all you want. Come Monday, I am going to bury you all with doc production.” Bryan sneered.

You skated closer to him and offered your hand once more. “Come on, it’s not that hard – watch me.” You stood next to him. “Your knees should always stay slightly bent. That position lowers your center of gravity, stabilizing you. It also helps you to skate without falling. Also, you should always have your weight positioned over your skating leg. One time you’re skating on the right leg, and the next moment on the left one. Every time you switch legs, you must shift your weight so that it’s over the skating leg.”

You demonstrated what you had explained and then repeated it. Bryan looked at you like a deer in headlights. Your lips twitched into a small smile. “Give me your hand.”

Bryan sighed, his breath causing a small puff of air. “Fine.” He grunted and took your hand. Your hand and his hand were encased in gloves and you mourned the idea that you weren’t holding hands bare skin to bare skin. You skated easily and Bryan wobbled a bit behind, but managing to keep pace. However, at one point, another skater flew by catching Bryan off guard and he lost his balance, falling, bringing you down with him.

“Mother fucking cock sucker son of a bitch!” You swore loudly, rubbing the side of your left ankle. “Ugh, I think I twisted it, you jerk!” Tears pricked your eyes.

“You? How about me?” Bryan snapped. “I can’t even get stand up without falling down.”

“Boo hoo asshole.” Two of your friends helped you up and you tried to bear weight but found that you could not. You were helped off the ice and Bryan followed, clambering to get off the ice, using the wall of the rink to help him.

You winced as you remove the skate, examining your ankle. It was starting to swell and the area was tender to touch. Bryan sat next to you, removing his own skates as well.

“How bad is it?” You heard him ask. You looked at him. “It’s sprained.”

For a brief moment, he looked remorseful. And just as quickly as you blinked, it was gone. “I’ll get us a car; I’ll take you home.”

You cocked your brow. “Excuse me, I can get home on my own just fine.” And stubborn as you were, you tried to stand but let out a grimace of pain, plopping back onto the hard bench.

“Let me take you home.” Bryan replied.

“Wonderful.” You seethed. Bryan returned your skates, along with his and brought over you shoes. You smashed your foot into your sneaker as best you could. Bryan offered his arm and begrudgingly, you took it, and limped out of the park. The ride home was uneventful, again with barely any conversation. You hobbled up the stairs rather comically and it was Bryan’s turn to roll his eyes at your pathetic attempt. You yelped as he suddenly picked you up, bridal style.

“What’s your apartment?”

“2D.” You replied mournfully, feeling embarrassed and humiliated that you could barely manage to get around and now you were being carried like a baby. There was a small part of you, however, that squealed inwardly. You clutched onto Bryan, his body solid and warm. He smelled wonderful and you allowed yourself to pretend to be swept away by the handsome lawyer.

**

“I got it from here, you can put me down.” You insisted once you were both inside. You both took off your coats. Bryan swallowed hard – for all the mousy outfits you wore at work, today you wore a form fitting sweater, which showed off the dip of your hip and swells of your tits.

Bryan carefully set you down and sharp pain shot up your leg and you swore again. “Maybe you should see someone.”

“I’ll tape it and ice it,” you reassured Bryan. “I’ll be fine.” This earned you an exasperated sigh. “I will take some ibuprofen,” you added for good measure.

Bryan grumbled in French about you being stubborn as he made way through your apartment. “I heard that, and you’re one to talk,” you replied cheekily, surprising him that you knew another language. Bryan was further surprised at your modest, but overall modern apartment. He liked the exposed brick and thought your small Christmas tree with its large, vintage bulbs was tacky, but charming in a way. He went into your kitchen and rummaged through your freezer, before returning with a bag of frozen peas.

“Put this on your ankle.” Bryan ordered. You took the bag. You propped your ankle onto your coffee table and stuck the bag on. You looked up at him. “I’m good. You can go now – and don’t worry, I’ll be in on Monday. Thanks for the lift.”

Bryan nodded and turned away, making his way back down your hallway. As soon as he did, you attempted to stand and swore loudly once more. Bryan turned on the balls on his feet. “Christ, Y/N, at least wait ‘til I am gone.”

“Wha—hey!” You shouted as he picked you up again, this time over his shoulder, so you were face to his ass. He gave your ass a playful spank and made his way down your other hallway, looking for your bedroom. “Put me down!”

He found it fairly quickly and unceremoniously threw you onto your bed.

“Are you always this stubborn?” He asked, his hands on his hips. He eyed your bedroom. It was small, like the rest of your apartment.

“Are you always a pretentious asshole?” You asked. Finally, you couldn’t stand it any longer. “Why are you being nice to me?”

Bryan didn’t respond. Instead, he sat next to you. “I know everyone thinks I am an asshole.” You snorted and Bryan let out a defeated sigh. “Okay, so I am an asshole. But I am still a fucking person.”

“The devil has feelings?” You covered your mouth and then cringed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

Bryan shrugged. “For all the shit I do, yeah, I do.” He turned to you. “Look, I am sorry that I hurt your ankle. And maybe take Monday off – see a doctor. Don’t worry about it. I will make sure it doesn’t count against your PTO.”

You looked at him and you smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

You were suddenly aware that Bryan was in your bedroom, on your bed. He looked debonair in his burgundy sweater and dark jeans. You could see the dark beard with the tiniest flecks of grey. When he began to massage your foot, you felt desire pool in your most intimate of parts.

“Bryan – I…” You swallowed hard. He looked up at you, his green eyes were intense and he gave the slightest nod to you. You leapt into his lap, ignoring the screaming pain of your ankle and kissed him. Bryan kissed you in return and slipped his tongue into your mouth, seeking and exploring. His hands were over your ass, grabbing at your flesh. He gave you a playful squeeze which earned him a moan from you.

A hand moved up and under your sweater, skillfully unhooking your bra and immediately moving to your breasts. He tugged and twisted a nipple, enjoying how you squirmed in his embrace.

“Let me take care of you,” Bryan replied breaking the kiss. You nodded, panting. You removed your sweater and fished off your bra. His eyes darkened at the sight of your shapely breasts. He couldn’t wait to get his mouth on them.

“Oh yes,” you agreed, practically purring. “I ache.”

Bryan hummed in acknowledgement. He pushed you back onto the bed and helped you out of your jeans. Slowly his hand made its way back under your underwear, along your hip. Your breathing hitched as his hand moved closer to the apex of your thighs. You were already sopping in anticipation.

“You’re so wet,” Bryan noted, a single finger stroking you briefly, before slipping inside. You sighed at the feeling of his finger in you. Encouraging, you pushed your panties to the side allowing him greater access.

Bryan slipped another finger inside of you, his tempo quickening. You began moving against his hand, mewling as he continued his ministrations. His fingers pumped in and out of you faster and faster. You cried out in pleasure. Bryan slowed his momentum before removing his fingers completely. You whimpered in protest and Bryan made a big show of sucking on his fingers. “You are delicious.” Bryan commented and you blushed in response.

Leaning over, he grabbed a pillow and encouraged you to lift your hips, placing the pillow under you. You spread your legs wantonly and unabashedly. Nipping your thighs, Bryan nestled in between your legs, his tongue in your folds, licking you and swirling his tongue on your swollen clitoris. You groaned, and your hands lost themselves in his dark hair, trying to keep him in place. The added feel of his beard along your sensitive skin only heightened your pleasure.

Bryan hummed in agreement and the vibrations sent shockwaves up your body. You arched your back as his tongue flicked on your clitoris as he slipped two fingers back in, all the way deep to the knuckle. Ignoring your aching ankle, your hips rose to meet the thrusts of his fingers. A third finger slipped inside, stretching you.

“Oh shit! Bryan!”

“That’s right, take it.” Bryan whispered. His thumb rubbed your clitoris haphazardly. You like getting fucked by my hand?”

“Yes, fuck, give it to me!” Your legs were shaking. “I am going to cum.” You groaned.

“Not yet.” Bryan grunted. He withdrew his hand and you whined at the lost contact. “Do you have any lube?”

You looked up at him, curious. “Uh, top drawer. Condoms in there too.”

Bryan winked at you and moved off your bed. As he rummaged through your drawer, you eyed the tent in his pants hungrily.

Bryan removed his shirt, leaving his jeans on. Seeing his thick body, with his dusty rose nipples and smattering of chest hair – he was even more hot than you could have imagined. He spread your legs again and dipped his head once more tasting you. You watched as he drizzled lube along your folds and then over his hand. He tucked his thumb into his palm, tapering his fingers and then slowly penetrated you until his entire hand was inside of you.

You let out a sound that was akin to animalistic howl. “Holy shit, holy shit, oh my God!” Bryan began rock his hand back and forth, fucking you with his fist. You felt so full and all you could think – or even say was more, more, more!

“Cum for me,” Bryan growled, his fingers finding that sweet spot that no one else ever had. You sobbed in pleasure and he dipped his head back between your legs and flicked his tongue against your clit. You came hard, shouting his name, grabbing the sheets haphazardly. Bryan continued to pump in and out of you, while looking up at you. A smirk graced his face, and he stroked that sweet spot once more. Your lungs burned as you gasped for air, feeling tremendous pressure and then release as you squirted all over Bryan’s face. Bryan lapped at you through your orgasm until it subsided. Slowly he removed his fist. Moving back up to you, he pushed his fingers into your mouth. “Suck” he ordered. You sucked on his fingers, tasting yourself.

You nipped Bryan’s fingers playfully and he chuckled, removing them. He pressed a kiss on your lips. “Feeling better?”

“Mmmm much,” you replied grinning. Pushing Bryan gently back onto the bed, you climbed onto him. “But I do think more TLC is in order,” you replied taking his hands and placing them on your breasts. “Up to the challenge, Mr. Kneef?”

Bryan winked. “I think I like my odds.”

FIN.

--

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[prorevenge]

Manipulative Power hungry Aunt torments my family for years. Costs her $300000

Dealt with my shitty manipulative abusive Aunt all my life, finally got revenge.

Players: Myself (M late 30s), Sister (3 year younger), Aunt (Older "Sister" to my Mother), Mother (Single Mom, adopted, no blood relation to my Aunt). Cousins (3 total, 1M, 2F. I have good relationships with them now, mostly).

My estranged father who had been living several counties over, is pretty much out of the picture by the time my parents got their divorce when I was 9. Due to financial hardship, we were forced to live with my Aunt and the nightmare of a household we would soon find ourselves in. My Aunt married into Georgia "Wealth" and you can figure out what that means on your own. She had 3 kids and eventually caught her husband having an affair. It's a huge scandal, she gets the house, the kids and a fat payout from the family attorney. This is important because my Aunt didn't do a damn thing in her life to earn her money, her house, her lifestyle or basically anything. She was born poor along with my Mom.

Under her household, she was drunk with power. Years of therapy have allowed me to recognize that certain people when in a position of power, get a perverse pleasure in ordering others to do their bidding. She was the strictest of authoritarians in every possible way you could imagine. Chores had to be completed by an exact specific time. Vacuuming by 3:45pm, Dishes by 3:55pm, Laundry days for my Mother us kids were Tues/Thurs 5:35pm-7:55pm. If it was still running, she would shut the power off for the two units. As we grew older, her own kids opted to stay with their father for full time custody and she had them on Weekends. Even they couldn't stand her when she was in charge and in the house. As time passed, she got them less and less opting for alternating weekends as Highschool activities took precedence over time with Mother.

For my sister and I, the large 6 bedroom house was not ours for the taking. My mom had to pay rent as well as rent for 1 bedroom as that was all she could afford on her salary. We had to share a bedroom until my second year of HS. All the while there was 1 spare unused bedroom available at all times. My Aunt needed this for "Guests" when they stayed over. Not one guest stayed there in the 10 years I was under that roof. Finally the church we attended told my Aunt to give up the spare bedroom so my sister can have her own room as it was "unhealthy" for two teenagers sharing a room together like that. That infuriated my Aunt because someone told her what to do in her own household. My sister and I got the brunt of her wrath. As my Mom's salary was tapped out, my sister and I had do extra chores like mowing the lawn, trimming the shrubs, cleaning the pool which we could no longer use without her being outside watching us.

My Aunt's behavior was becoming more and more outrageous and disconnected from society. For example, she had always snapped her fingers when she wanted to get someones attention, but it was getting far more frequent and she would blow up into a tirade if either my sister and I didn't obey. Her own kids tried repeatedly to tell her that the shit she was doing was wrong but she wouldn't listen.Eventually they wanted nothing to do with her outside of the home. She was a tyrant there and repeated intervention to get her to see the folly of her ways would fall on deaf ears.

I Snapped:

All through HS I had no confidence as a person. I was weak willed and growing ever distant from friends and society. I say this in all truthfulness and fear, that had circumstances continued the way they had been going, I could very well had taken a gun to myself or worse, to others around me. I was that bad off.

I had just graduated HS and started my first semester of community college. I'm 2 weeks into my classes attending from home when my Aunt drops a bomb on me. "You owe me $$$ for this months rent, the same amount for next months rent as well. It is the 27th after all. You're an Adult now. You're out of HS and working now, so you need to pay rent" The fuck? I blew a fucking gasket as I yelled back. "You can't just suddenly decide to charge me rent just because you feel like it. I need 30 days notice, I have rights".

My Aunt yelled at me some bullshit excuse that she had discussed this with my mother and it was decided that I needed to pay my own rent now. In some miraculous backbone move, of which I still have no idea how I stood up to her, I yelled right back at her, "If I'm an Adult, then treat me like and talk to me about rental agreements. I'll start paying you rent in 30 days starting the 1st." I turned my back to her and walked away with my fists balled tight. I was furious with anger but I walked away. My Aunt saw my fists from behind and screamed bloody murder that I was going to attack her. No, I wasn't. She snapped her fingers at me repeatedly on my tail to get my attention but I didn't turn around. I needed to cool off and clear my head. As I turned the corner, she grabbed my wrist hard yelling "I'm not finished talking to you". I threw my still balled up fist forward keeping with my stride to break her grip as I hadn't stopped my momentum. This caused her grabbing arm to slam hard into the corner of the wall that I had just turned into. She screamed in pain but I left the house and took off.

The aftermath of that incident was that my Aunt called the cops on me in an attempt to press charges. She was taken to the hospital and suffered a fractured wrist and she was put in a cast/sling (don't know as I never saw it and never inquired further). Her story changed every time she told the cops what happened while my story was spot on every time. I can still recall that moment down to the smell in the house, where I was facing, the working and non-working lightbulbs etc. Forever ingrained in me. I was kicked out of the house and I couldn't visit my sister or my Mom there at the house again. Fine by me as I didn't want to see my bitch Aunt ever again. I was happy to meet my Mother and sister at the local diner or outlet. We could be ourselves there and not hostages in our own home.

Years Later:

My Mom wised up and got out of that abusive relationship with her sister and moved out on her own. She got a temporary nice place, invested wisely and with the help from the church, got help getting a place of her own. In 2009 after the housing crisis, she bought her own place that she could never have afforded on her own prior the Market crash. But some good came out of it. She wept knowing my Sister (and her family) and myself can come visit any time and stay.

Over the years I've been able to forgive my Aunt. Not forget, Forgive. I've let go a lot of my anger and hatred toward her that she put me through. When she has no leverage or control over us, she's a somewhat decent person for being a total bitch of a person. My Cousin's have calmed down, heard my side of what happened those years ago and know what kind of person I am compared to what kind of person their Mother is. They chose to believe me and know I didn't hit her or strike her or beat her across the face like she continues to claim.

The Revenge:

While I have been able to forgive my Aunt for what she has done to me, I cannot forgive her for what she did to my Mother. Kept her in financial hardship for a decade while she sat on a bank account full of cash and assets. Or what she did to my Sister. Forced her to pay for damages because the water heater burst while my Aunt and Mother was away one weekend leaving my sister at home. She didn't discover the flooded rooms for hours. My Aunt's reasoning, "It was her responsibility to watch the house." Not the responsibility of the home owner to maintain/replace the water heater before it goes. Lets leave that Upfront $5000 financial burden before the Flood insurance kicks in on a 16 year old girl.

I've had little to no contact with my Aunt since I was kicked out of the house nearly 2 decades ago. But I do keep in constant contact with my cousins. While I'm not going to divulge what I do for a living, I can say that I work with and for the Government. I've worked my ass off getting to where I'm at today. I'm known for being truthful, wise and giving good advise when asked. Because of this, I often talk financially with my cousins. All of whom are money-smart and are doing well for themselves. They often then relay this information to their scheming mother who has no mind for business and investments. All that money she got from her house sale, her divorce settlement, her previous investments is pretty much gone. I spent YEARS planning on the perfect trap and it took a long time to prepare everything to make sure everything appeared right.

IANAL and I don't pretend to know the law but I do know the regulations and laws pertaining to insider information. This is not that. 100% certain of it and if I ever go to court, I know my lawyer has a solid case in my defense. But is this a grey area, most definitely. I let slip to my Cousins about some future real estate plans near my Aunt's new area of living. It "may" be worth a lot more because of future development taking place in the area. All of that was true and backed up by what was in the News paper and New Construction signs that newly appeared on Google Maps (at the time). The rest was fabricated by myself backed up by actual information I looked up on real estate websites and on projects I was working on through my work.

The Telephone game takes place and a few weeks later I presume, my Aunt starts making phone calls to real estate agents trying to buy lots of Land in the undeveloped shitty area of her new house. Over the course of a few months to a half a year, she spends $300,000 of her last remaining savings on land hoping it will pay out when the area around it gets developed in the upcoming years.

Only, HUD/Government/City doesn't have any plans to develop in those immediate areas. In fact, analysis showed that building in those areas was poor planning and would cost the tax payers twice to three times as much as the land was not environmentally sound. It was best to build 6 miles away.

This post was long overdue because it's been over 2 years since my Aunt purchased Land that is basically worthless. See, she won't sell the land unless she gets at least the same price she paid for it because she's the OWNER of that land. Can't tell her what to do on her own land. Sweet Karma strikes in a way I couldn't possibly have foreseen. My cousin informed me that the value of the land has decreased significantly because it's not environmentally sound to build anything commercial there. But it's zoned for commercial use. Currently 3 of the 4 blocks of land she purchased are just weed farms next to eye sore abandoned buildings or industrial complexes. Nobody can build on it and nor does anyone want to buy it. Sucks to be her!

Best part is, my cousins have absolutely no idea that I set them up for their Mother to take the fall. These environmental results are relatively new and the perfect cover to say why the Project changed locations 6 miles away.

TL:DR Abusive Aunt torments my family and myself for a decade and more. Decades later, I am in a position to trick her buying worthless land. Icing on the cake, that land can't be used for it's intended purpose and has devalued significantly.

(source) story by (/u/Limecherrry)

[lunar-jimin]

W H A T   A   H E A V E N L Y   W A Y   T O   D I E :   C H A P T E R   I 

p a i r i n g : yoongi x fem!reader

r a t i n g : PG-13

g e n r e : college!au, alternate reality, fluff, future smut, future angst, e2l

w o r d   c o u n t : 1127

w a r n i n g s : swearing

s e r i e s   s u m m a r y : you never thought the quiet boy in the back of the class would be your greatest competition for a prestigious music internship. and who knew he could be so loud?

a/n: hello loves! here’s the first full chapter of what a heavenly way to die. please let me know what you think about it! 

| previous chapter | next chapter | series masterlist |

You were sure you were garnering strange looks from the students around you as you sped down the narrow hall but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You missed the bus and you weren’t ready to be late to class for the first time in four years. A binder of sheet music clutched in one hand and violin case in the other, you wove in and out of clumps of people.

Crashing through the door with seconds to spare, you immediately found your seat and slumped down on the hard wooden chair. Beside you, Winter, a fellow violinist and Duchess of Alyran, raised her eyebrow.

“Missed the bus.”

She nodded before turning back to Namjoon, her ever faithful bodyguard.

You turned back to the front of class, where Professor Oh was scribbling on the chalkboard. Using the sleeve of your shirt, you dabbed the droplets of sweat perched on your brow. There was nothing in the world you hated more than running, and thanks to your missed alarm, you had done more than your fair share of it today.

“Ok, class, before we start back in with Tchaikovsky, I wanted to bring to your attention that applications for the Queen’s Internship for Aspiring Artists are due at the end of October.”

Murmurs broke out across the room. The Queen’s Internship for Aspiring Artists, more commonly known as the Queen’s Musician, was an opportunity for four classical music majors from the Anntonette Royal Academy of the Arts to work with His Majesty’s Orchestra, an internship that generally became a job. It was every musician’s dream, and you were no exception.

“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you the prestige that comes with this internship,” Professor Oh continued, “not to mention the paycheck. Thus I encourage all of you to apply. You can do it online on the royal website, or you can pick up a paper form from me during office hours.”

You glanced at Winter and saw that her eyes were just as afire as yours. Ever since you had picked up your first bow at age five, you had dreamed of sitting as first chair while the richest people in the world danced to your music. It was competitive, no doubt, and only those that were completely and utterly dedicated to the craft succeeded.

Class passed quickly, your mind no longer focused on the strings beneath your fingers, instead you were dreaming of royal ballrooms. As you were leaving, Professor Oh called out after you.

“Are you planning on applying for the Queen’s Internship for Aspiring Artists?”

“Of course.”

“Oh good. I know that I’m not supposed to have opinions on such matters, but I think you stand a good chance of playing with our kingdom’s best musicians by the end of the school year.”

She gave you a fond smile and you were reminded once again of why Oh was your favorite professor. She taught your first theory class Freshman year and you had been working with her ever since.

“I sure hope you’re right. I think I speak for everyone in the music department when I say being in that orchestra is the dream. Your confidence in me means a lot.”

“Of course,” she grins.

“Oh, and I wanted to give you the piece we’re working on next week in my freshman class,” she handed you a piece of sheet music, “I know you’re busy with your senior year and everything, but it would mean the world to me if you drop by. I’ve talked you up quite a bit and the students would be very pleased if you could perform for them.”

“It would be my honor.”

“Very well then, have a good rest of your day.”

“You too Professor Oh.”

You gave her a polite nod, before leaving into the crowded hallway. Trying to fit the sheet music into your binder without dropping your case proved to be quite difficult. It was because of this that you didn’t notice Yoongi until it was too late.

For the second time in as many weeks, you found yourself on your ass, this time with papers flying everywhere.

“Ow, fuck.”

You were happy your ankle was spared, but your ass wasn’t so lucky. You were fully prepared to wake up tomorrow morning with a bruised behind.

“Shit, I’m so sorry.”

It felt like deja vu, Yoongi once again by your side, concern plastered across his face.

“I’m fine Yoongi, although if I don’t act soon, my music may not be.”

Yoongi just then seemed to notice the paper everywhere around you and immediately moved to begin collecting it up. The two of you scurried to gather it all before some stoned freshie fucked it all up.

“So, how you been?”

“Yoongi, you were literally texting me last night.”

Ever since you gave him your number, the two of you found yourselves texting every night for hours on end. In fact, your oversleeping this morning had been the direct result of you and Yoongi’s debate on the greatest composer of the twentieth century which ended somewhere around three in the morning.

“I know, I know. I’m just shitty at small talk.”

He gave you a lopsided grin.

“You seem to do just fine if you can use emojis?”

“Oh, shut up.”

You laughed. Even though it was fairly new, you really enjoyed your friendship with Yoongi. His intellectual humor and passion that rivaled your own made you compatible.

“So Yoongs, are you applying for the Queen’s Musician?”

The two of you had successfully collected your papers and were now loitering on the side of the hallway, waiting for it to clear up.

“You’re kidding right?” he snorted, “Of course I am. I would be a fool not to.”

“That’s true.”

“Are you?”

You looked at him and raised your eyebrow.

“Right Of course you are.”

“I would be a fool not to,” you mock.

“Wouldn’t it be so cool if we both got it?”

“That would be amazing. A miracle.”

“Yeah, it would be.”

“God, I’ve been dreaming about this since I was ten. It’s so crazy that I’m about to apply.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve been dreaming about it since I was five. Lord knows if I’ll even survive the heart attack I’ll have if I get it.”

“You’ll survive, you’ll have to.”

“Thanks for the support.”

“Always.”

The crowd in the hall had died down to a few lingers like yourselves.

“Well, I’ve got to go. I told Daisy and Jungkook I would meet up with them for lunch.”

“Oh well, have fun.”

“Yeah, I will. See you around Yoongs.”

“See ya.”

He smiled, and you were very hopeful that the feeling in your stomach was hunger and not butterflies.

[inkedstarlight]

Bittersweet: Chapter Five

Summary: College is kicking Nesta’s ass, so she goes to her T.A., Tomas, for some extra help. Note: Read it on AO3 here! Bittersweet Masterlist  Warnings: N/A

October

It was only a couple weeks into the fall semester, and it was already hell.

Nesta was drowning in schoolwork, whether it be essays or presentations or hour-long projects. She had exams every damn week, so she was at the campus library nearly every day – typically until the sun set and the stars emerged. But even then, her night was far from over. Nesta returned home only to catch up on the work she’d put off for her paid internship. Elain got in the habit of making Nesta tea and cookies when she returned from the library on those ruthless nights. And every damn time, Nesta would wrap her arms around her sister with thanks.

This was her routine for at least four days of the week. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Needless to say, she was fucking exhausted.

The worst part, though? Nesta’s grades were precariously low despite the countless hours she’d been putting in. And she knew exactly what was causing it.

It had been a month since her father’s death, yet Nesta was still waking up in her own sweat every morning after a nightmare involving him. Of him hanging on the edge of a cliff, begging Nesta to save him. Of her dad screaming at her to kill herself. Of her mother dragging Nesta into the other room as he watches idly by.  

Nesta had cursed herself for letting her father’s death affect her in this way. She’d never been one to grieve, especially not for so long. She preferred leaving it in the past. It was easier that way.

Thanks to her merciless professors, Nesta was forced to dedicate nearly all of her time to school, which forced her to neglect her internship. They required she edit ten pieces of work every week, whether it be self-published books, college publications, or online articles. Even though the internship was entirely online – a convenient bonus – she still didn’t have enough time to fulfill the weekly goals. Instead of editing ten works, she was barely scrapping by with five. She’d already received several angry emails from her boss threatening to fire her if she didn’t get her shit together.

And, well… Nesta didn’t get her shit together. On the last day of September, she received that fateful email.

Nesta Archeron,

I regret to inform you that we’ve made the difficult decision of letting you go from Scribner Editorial. While I understand you’re in the midst of earning your Master’s degree, we are looking for editors who can reach – or exceed – the necessary requirements. Unfortunately, you have been lacking in the past few weeks. It has caused other editors to pick up your slack and do more than what we ask for. We are sorry to see you go.

Sincerely,

Ressina Laurent Scribner Editorial

Nesta read and reread the email dozens of times before closing her laptop. Her head fell in her hands, her shoulders trembling with the weight she carried.

She stared out the window, the world a flurry of red, orange, and yellow. Nesta had worked so hard for this, and all for nothing. She couldn’t believe she’d fucked up such a prestigious internship. It’d paid surprisingly well, and that had been the only income she was receiving. Even with the paychecks from Scribner Editorial, Nesta’s financial situation was holding on by a thread. She had used the money her father had passed down to her to pay off the remaining student loans she owned. Her family never had much money and when it was split in three, it didn’t make much of a difference.

Just like that, Nesta no longer had a job.

Fuck.

Within ten minutes of receiving that email, she was already browsing online for job opportunities. Nesta didn’t care what it was, as long as it put steady income in her pocket. There was no way she would be able to finish school without a job.

But unfortunately, after an hour of job hunting, Nesta came up empty handed. The only person who was hiring was the large grocery store downtown. They were looking for a cashier. And there was no way in hell Nesta would even consider working there. She’d seen the crowds they got on weekends. The work were incessantly forced to talk with rude, invasive customers. Nesta was far from the realm of customer service.

Nesta was down to her last resort. She didn't give herself another second to overthink it as she picked up her phone from her desk and texted Feyre.

I was just fired. You know of any job openings in the area?

Nesta sat by her phone for a couple minutes until Feyre deigned to respond.

The only one I know if is Rita’s, the local bar. They’re looking for a bartender, have been for months.

Nesta nearly snorted out her coffee when she read the text. Feyre had to be kidding. Nesta, bartending? There was no way in hell she could be a halfway decent bartender – anyone who’s ever met Nesta knew that. She didn’t possess the charm nor the patience, and she certainly couldn’t deal with drunken men who leered at her all night. In Massachusetts, she'd had her fair share of hook-ups, men and women alike. It was night after night of mindless, drunken sex. But then she'd grown up.

Nesta looked back at the soft glow of her computer screen. There had to be something, right?

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

Wrong.

After scrolling through hundreds of websites with job opportunities (or lack thereof), Nesta collapsed on her bed. She checked the time to find that it was nearly one in the morning. Rubbing her face, she let out a low groan. Tomorrow was Monday. Gods, why did tomorrow have to be Monday? She was so exhausted that she was feeling physically ill: sore throat, cough, stuffy nose. The urge to skip classes tomorrow was tempting.

But Nesta knew she wouldn't skip. What would she do? A whole day to herself and a head full of intrusive thoughts. The perfect ingredients for a panic attack or two.

Her gaze fell to the small stack of bills she had yet to pay – that she couldn’t pay. Bills that would only grow.

With that thought in mind, Nesta cursed Scribner Editorial as she grabbed her laptop and searched ‘Rita’s’ on an open browser.

Then, she composed an email.

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

The next day, Nesta finally got around to contacting her Fictional Techniques teaching assistant. It was by far her most challenging class, and she despised the professor. A big chunk of her studying was dedicated to that course alone. And since she no longer had a job – for now – she finally had the time to meet with him for extra help.

His name was Tomas. He was notoriously known as the “Hardass T.A.” Nesta had heard her peers complaining about his grading on more than one occasion. It was common knowledge that he rarely gave students any feedback on their essays but when he did, it was brutal. It was practically unheard of to receive higher than a C from Tomas.

Nesta never got below a B+, though. And though she’d never spoken with him, Tomas always gave her detailed feedback on her papers, more so than any student.

So that afternoon, she emailed him.

Tomas –

           My name is Nesta Archeron and I am a student in a class you T.A. in, ENG-403 Section 003. I have a couple questions regarding the paper that was assigned on September 28th. Are you available to meet after class? It would be much appreciated.

Nesta –

           Thank you for contacting me. I would love to help you one-on-one. I’ve noticed the work you hand in, and it is spectacular. Your writing is sophisticated, and you have such potential. Coming from someone who has been in the publishing business for years now, I know several companies who would publish your work. Perhaps I can mention your name the next time I meet with them. How does tomorrow work? We can walk to the library together, maybe grab a cup of coffee (on me). Let me know.

Tomas –

           Thank you. That works for me. I’ll see you tomorrow.

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

“Don’t forget to finish up those essays! They’re due on October sixth, and I won’t be accepting anything that’s turned in late. Yes, Mr. Vanserra, I’m looking at you.”

Students snickered as they filed out of the lecture hall. Nesta grabbed her backpack and made her way down the stairs to the front of the room. Tomas had his own desk in the corner where he chimed in during class discussions.

He was already smiling at her when she approached.

“Hi, Nesta,” he greeted her. He was in the midst of packing his things. “Are you ready to head out?” She nodded.

Tomas had the charm of the boy next door. His dirty blonde hair was cropped short, eyes crystal blue, and he wore an easy smile. It was hard to imagine that this was the guy who gave students Fs for not having a cover page for their essay.

"Did you want to grab a cup of coffee?" Tomas asked her as they made their way out of the classroom. He shot her a smirk "Like I said, I'll pay."

Is he flirting with me?

Nesta prayed to the gods he wasn't. Sure, he was cute and all, but she had no interest in a relationship of any kind. Including a one night stand.

Perhaps I can use that to my advantage...

Nesta dismissed the thought immediately. There was no way in hell she would flirt with her T.A. to ensure a high GPA. She wasn't going to sleep her way to the top. That's not how Nesta did things.

A little flirting never hurt anyone.

She groaned inwardly and shut out that train of thoughts.

Tomas and Nesta chatted while they trudged to the library, backpacks full of textbooks in tow. Much to Nesta’s dismay, he fired question after question at her. Tomas asked about her family to which she miraculously deflected, about her journey to become a writer, and her ambitions. Luckily, Nesta was a pro at this sort of thing, so she simply responded to every question with a question of her own. Not the most subtle approach, but it worked.

The library was teeming with students when they pushed through the doors. Pryth U’s library was a sight to behold. Its foyer was ornate with hand-painted murals, the ceiling stretching far above them. They hopped on the elevator to the third floor. When the doors opened, Nesta inhaled the sweet scent of old books. The bookcases reached the ceiling, thus requiring a rolling ladder in every stack. When Nesta and Elain had toured the campus before the semester began, Elain was quick to jump on the ladder and sing “Be Our Guest.” Her voice was horribly off key. They both burst into laughter, clutching their stomachs until the librarian found and scolded them.

Nesta was pretty sure Elain hadn't stepped foot in the library since.

“Okay,” Tomas said, setting his belongings on a corner desk. He grinned at her. “Ready to be tortured?”

Nesta offered a less than enthusiastic smile. “Let’s do it.”

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

After a couple hours of grueling studying, Nesta hurried to the coffee shop on campus. It was five o’clock and she hadn’t had a cup of coffee since the morning. If she didn’t get caffeine in the next ten minutes, Nesta wouldn’t function properly.

The meeting with Tomas went well; he was certainly a helpful resource to have. He'd even offered to meet with Nesta again to prepare for the next big assignment, to which she graciously accepted. There may have been batting of the lashes involved.

Nesta pulled her wool scarf tighter around her neck. Even with a peacoat and a hat, she was still freezing. She let out a sigh of relief when she entered the coffee shop, grateful for the inviting warmth.

That gratefulness disappeared when she looked at the line.

It was at least a dozen people long. Nesta let out a frustrated groan, managing to put a tamper on her anger and hauled her ass to the back of the line.

After a couple minutes of drooling over the scent of fresh coffee beans, she felt a tap on her shoulder from behind.

“Nesta?” a sultry voice asked. The familiar husk in her words had Nesta turning around to see Amren standing behind her. She was staring up at Nesta through her long lashes, a smirk playing on her face. Nesta couldn’t help but admire her feral beauty: chin length hair, angular face, dark and smooth skin, and exquisite makeup.

“Hi, Amren,” Nesta said blandly. “I didn’t know you attended Pryth U.”

“I don’t,” she snorted. “I wouldn’t last one week in college. This is the best coffee around, and I don’t mind driving twenty minutes out of my way.”

Another coffee snob. Interesting.

“I’m impressed that you even remember my name. I thought you always zoned out during the dinners.”

Nesta huffed out a laugh, and a hint of surprise flashed on Amren’s face. It was gone a second later.

“It’s tempting whenever Rhysand opens his mouth, trust me,” Nesta replied dryly. “But I have my ways.”

Amren’s eyes lit up with amusement. “Oh, I’m going to like you.”

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

That evening, Nesta strolled back to her apartment with a steaming cup of coffee and Amren’s phone number.

It was quiet when she unlocked the door, but the living room light was on. As Nesta dropped her heaving backpack and padded to the kitchen, she noticed Elain sprawled out on the couch, her nose buried in her phone.

“Did you eat already?” Nesta called out as she rummaged through the cabinets. She dug through a shelf for pasta, which was buried under Elain’s many baking ingredients.

When Elain didn’t answer after a couple seconds, Nesta poked her head into the living room. She was still scrolling through her phone, the faintest smile on her rosy face.

“Hello? Earth to Elain?”

Silence. Nesta groaned in frustration. Rounding the overstuffed sofa, she assaulted Elain’s feet with her hands.

Elain’s entire body jerked as Nesta tickled her, pained laughs escaping her mouth. Elain was easily the most ticklish person Nesta had ever met. It made it easy to get information out of her.

“Stop!” Elain gasped breathlessly, laughing all the same. “Please!”

Nesta ceded and raised her hands up in surrender. Elain scrambled off the couch and narrowed her eyes.

"What the hell, Nesta?”

“I was calling your name for a good five minutes,” Nesta crossed her arms. She nodded her head at Elain’s phone. “Anything interesting?”

Elain’s cheeks flushed, and Nesta gasped.

“Is it a guy?” Her voice was threatening. Nesta had always been protective over Elain.

“A guy? No! That’s… that’s just ludicrous. Why would a guy… I mean -"

Nesta let her sister stumble over her words with amusement. She raised a brow. “Show me what you were looking at then.”

“That’s none of your business!”

Nesta gave her no warning as she leaped at Elain.

Elain squealed in surprise, trying her best to deflect Nesta's tickling. They wrestled on the couch, Elain trying desperately to get her phone out of Nesta's reach. But Nesta was taller and stronger.

“Gerroffme -"

“Just gimme -"

“Argh!”

"Ha!" Nesta stood up and held Elain’s phone in her hand triumphantly. Elain was glaring at her from the couch, her hair sticking every which way.

Nesta looked down at the screen to see the Instagram app open. Then, she read the name of the account.

“You’re stalking Azriel?”

“No! I was just following him.”

All Nesta had to do was give her a stern look.

“Okay, fine," Elain threw her hands up. "I think he’s cute. Are you happy now?”

“No,” Nesta glowered, “I’m not happy. He’s basically Rhysand’s brother. I'm not letting another one of those boys seduce my sister.”

“Seduce?!" Elain choked. She shook her head. "They’re best friends! And what does it matter anyway?”

Nesta shot her a leveled stare. “Rhysand’s an asshole.”

“He’s just protective over Feyre,” Elain explained incredulously. “Like you are of me.”

Nesta considered that for a moment. “Touché. But if Azriel hurts you -"

“Nesta!” Elain exclaimed, an exasperated laugh leaving her lips. “We’ve barely talked. I just think he’s handsome.”

“Does Feyre know?”

That got Elain's attention.

“You can’t tell Feyre.” Elain broke out her puppy face: wide eyes, pouty lips, knitted brows. No one in history had been able to resist her puppy face. Including Nesta.

She huffed out a laugh. “I may be a bitch, but I’m not that cruel.”

Elain threw herself at her sister and pulled her into a hug. "Thank you!"

After promising Elain she wouldn't tell Feyre about her crush for the tenth time, Nesta retreated to her room. She was just about to pull out her notes when her phone buzzed in her back pocket.

I’m supposed to go on a date with this guy tonight, but I just met a hotter guy on my way home. Will you judge me if I ditch the first one?

Nesta looked at the phone number.

Amren.

She could help but let out a small laugh.                              

When in doubt, pick both.

Both?                                                                                        

Both.

Damn, Nesta, I didn’t realize how savage you are.

A couple moments later, another text came in.

Both is good.

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

tag list (let me know if you want to be tagged):

@sjmships @sleeping-and-books @sirgwaines @books-for-sure @blowing-mikey @b00kworm @wineywitch202 @drielecarla @liquifyme @gisellefigue08 @iammissstark @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @loysydark @superspiritfestival @stardelia​ @sayosdreams​ @maastrash​ 

[imagining-supernatural]

What Happens in Vegas...

Part 1 of Seventy Percent 

Series Summary:  When you left on your trip to Vegas, you’d planned on letting loose for one last weekend before heading back to reality and getting your affairs in order so your best friend wouldn’t be left cleaning up your mess when your cancer finally ended your life. What you hadn’t counted on was waking up married to a celebrity who has a knight-in-shining-armor complex, connections with an oncologist, and amazing insurance…

Chapter Summary: You wake up in Vegas with a brand new wedding ring on your finger next to Sebastian Stan

Word Count: 1641

A/N: I am super excited about this series! And it’s completely written (except maybe an epilogue), so I won’t leave you hanging when writer’s block hits. 

What was a Vegas weekend without waking with a major hangover and a random naked guy next to you?

Ideal. That’s what that would be.

Yet, here you were. Hungover as hell. With a naked guy next to you. In your hotel room. So you couldn’t even sneak out.

Not Ideal.

Aw well. This was your last Vegas weekend ever, so you might as well go out with a bang.

The form beside you groaned and shifted until you could see his face.

“Holy shit!” you exclaimed, prompting him to squint at you, slowly waking up. It didn’t take long for his blue eyes to open. Eyes you’d only seen on the big screen. “What the fuck are you doing in my room?”

“Who are you?” He shot back, voice still scratchy with slumber.

“This is my hotel room so I think my question should get answered first.” Sitting up, you pulled the sheet up to your chin. It was pretty obvious what had happened last night, but if he was even half as drunk as you had been, he wouldn’t remember. So… there was no need to flash your assets.

Sebastian Stan – yes, the Sebastian Stan – looked around for a moment before his thoughts were gathered enough. “I… don’t remember. I mean, I think I remember you from a club? But the rest of the night is blurry.”

“Yeah. I’m dealing with a lot of different kinds of headaches right now.” As soon as he left, you were going to dig out your medication and down a pill or two. You must have forgotten to take your pills last night.

His eyes widened when he looked at your hands holding the sheet up to cover your body. “You’re married? Fuck, how did I not notice that last night. I—shit.”

“Married? I’m sure as shit not—” Now it was your turn to ogle the giant ring on your left hand. “Wait a goddamn minute.”

The look of disbelief he was giving you sent your mind into hyper drive. “You’re saying that we…”

“Not necessarily. I mean, maybe it’s just a ring, you know? Maybe, shit I don’t know. Maybe it’s fake and we won it from one of those machines where you put a quarter in and twist the knob and you get a toy, you know?” By this point, you weren’t talking to Sebastian anymore. You were muttering to yourself, trying to calm the fuck down. And, for the record, when you tapped the diamond you knew it definitely wasn’t plastic. There was still the hope it was fake. Glass or something…

“And even if we did have a ceremony, that doesn’t mean it’s legal, right? Like, there have to be documents filed with the state and shit. I feel like I would have remembered that. But if we did file those, we’re in Vegas! The town that probably processes more annulments than any other city. It can’t be that hard. We’ll sign some papers at the courthouse and bam! No more marriage, no legal financial obligations when I die. I mean, this isn’t how I expected to end my weekend, but whatever, it’s an adventure. Something to tell my fri—”

“What do you mean, when you die?” he interrupted, latching onto the one part of your blabbing that you definitely hadn’t meant to say aloud. “You got plans to get in an accident or something?”

You could see the worry in his eyes and it took you a second to process what was beneath his question. “Oh, no. No, I’m not gonna kill myself. Don’t worry about that.”

“So what did you mean?”

How much to tell him? As a stranger, you didn’t owe him anything. But he was your husband, maybe. At the very least, you were both naked in the same bed. And anyway, what could it hurt? Telling him the truth wouldn’t change your prognosis and it might light a fire under his ass to figure out how to cut all ties with you.

“I’m not planning on killing myself, or anything. But my body seems to be doing a great job on its own. I have cancer, can’t afford treatment, and this weekend was my last weekend to cut loose before getting my affairs in order, you know?” Hopefully he would let that all slide. Not question further. “But that’s not your problem. We need to focus on figuring out if we really did get married, and if so how to—”

“Won’t your health insurance cover treatment?”

His well-intentioned question startled a bitter laugh from you. You relaxed back into the pillows, starting to say more than you needed to. “Yeah, sure. It already covered the chemo and radiation I went through. Those didn’t help enough. And I can’t afford to cut my hours back again at work. If I do, corporate will shunt me down to part time and take away my benefits. Ain’t that the American Dream?”

Shaking your head, you determined that it was time to get away from your sob story.

“Anyway, back to the matter at hand. I can, uh, get dressed and poke around a bit to figure out how to see if we really are married. It can’t be that hard. I mean, how many accidental, drunken, Vegas weddings do you think happen here? There’s probably a website somewhere called, like, help-i-woke-up-married-to-a-stranger.com or something.”

That stupid joke rewarded you with a half-smile on Sebastian’s face. “By the way, wife, what’s your name?”

“Y/N. And,” you shrugged, “I already know yours.”

“Yeah?”

“How could I not? You’re in the fucking Marvel Cult.”

“Cult?”

You grinned. “What else would you call it?”

After a soft chuckle, he leaned back against the headboard, sheets pooling around his waist and you tried extra hard to keep your eyes on his face. “Cult’s a good word actually. All the secrecy.”

“Y’all got so many devotees, man. Like, if all of you sent out a tweet that said something about taking over the world, it would be yours.”

“You one?” At your eyebrow raise, he clarified. “A devotee?”

“Ha, no. A fan, sure. I’m far too lazy to get in a cult. While y’all storm the capital, or something, I’d be at home watching YouTube videos of Kelly Clarkson singing while I’m eating chips and salsa.”

“Kelly Clarkson?”

At his question, you got defensive. “She’s a goddess.”

“Kelly Clarkson devotee?”

“I—” you stopped to consider that before tilting your head. “I suppose so. But only because she wouldn’t want to take over the world. She’d tweet something like Everyone come over to drink wine and chat and I’d be there in a heartbeat.”

He grinned and you found yourself wishing this was real. That this really was the morning after your wedding to a handsome man.

But that wasn’t your life.

“Never thought I’d marry a Kelly Clarkson Devotee.”

“Not to, uh, cut this marriage short, but I have to be on a flight tomorrow morning. So we should probably get on with figuring shit out today. Get that annulment if we’re actually married.”

A playful frown toyed with his lips. “You’re divorcing me because I made fun of you for being in the Clarkson Cult?”

“Yes,” you played along. “I’m sorry, Sebastian, but I just can’t stay with someone who doesn’t share my absolute love and adoration of KC. If I’d have known this last night, I would have definitely left you at the altar.”

Briefly, you caught sight of a shy smile before he turned his head away. “So, uh, you mind if I grab a shower?”

“Not at all. I’ll start researching,” you motioned to your laptop that was laying over on the desk.

After he nodded, he started looking around the room. It took you a minute to remember that you were both naked. Though it shocked you that he would be as shy about his nudity as you were, you didn’t point it out. Instead, you pointed to your travel blanket that was draped over a chair within his reach. With a grateful nod, he grabbed it and secured it around his waist as he stood.

As he walked over to the bathroom, you found yourself staring at a wrinkle in the sheets, letting your brain start shutting down just enough to process the whirlwind of the last few minutes.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You glanced up.

“I, uh, I just… Look. With my job I just wanted to ask that you not share anything on, you know... Twitter or anything.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t. No one would believe me even if I did.” You offered him a reassuring smile. “I don’t really know what it’s like to be in the public eye, not like you are, anyway, but I’m sure it’s not all glitz and glam.”

With a nod of thanks, he disappeared into the bathroom.

That brought up a whole new side of worry. If you were married and did need to get the annulment, how would you keep it from getting out? You needed to make sure all of this stayed out of the press. You couldn’t let your reputation tarnish his. Not when you were going to die and leave him to deal with your bullshit.

As soon as the shower started, you darted across the room to quickly pull on some clothes. Once you were no longer naked, you dug out your medication and popped a pill, knowing you’d definitely need it to keep up your strength. Hopefully it would also work some sort of wonder on your hangover headache as well.

Once you swallowed your medicine, you grabbed your laptop, only to have a paper fall to the ground. You bent down to see what it was and stopped cold at the calligraphy written across the top:

MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE

PART 2: THE FIRST DATE

[taramaclaywasaterf]

with all due respect... it's perplexing how much you like spike while being a terf (affectionate). spike, the character whose motivation is to dominate and violate the metaphor for female power (slayers), who turns buffy herself into a hollow shell, who is consistently a perpetrator of sexual harassment and violence, towards women who reject him....

Sorry for the late response, I saw this ask right when you sent it but I’ve been scouring my blog because I know for a fact I answered a similar question about Spuffy before, but tumblr is such a piece of shit website I literally cannot find it anywhere even though I know I fucking tagged it!! Ugh I hate this hellsite.

Anyway, trust me babe I know Spuffy is trash lol. I hate that I love this garbage ship so much, I really do. Part of it is that I was like a tiny fetus when I first watched the show so I didn’t actually realize how terrible Spike was, but now I’m like a decade and a half into shipping these two characters so I’m too invested to stop now...like, I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to- it’s ingrained into my psyche lol. I literally made my father buy me a leather duster from Goodwill when I was in middle school so that I could look like Spike, because I wanted to be as cool as him so badly. There’s no coming back from that lmao

Another big factor is that this show is, what, 20 years old now? It’s not like it’s currently on the air, still making new ones. If it were a new show airing right now, there’s no way I could stomach it, let alone support it. But this was the late 90s/early 2000s. It’s already happened. And as long as we‘re able to recognize *why* the shit that happened in the show was disgusting and wrong, and maintain self awareness and perspective, I honestly don’t see an issue with having one ~problematic~ (ugh sorry I hate that word lol) ship. As long as it’s not, like, literal pedophilia or anything, obviously, because fuck that shit.

Onto more character stuff, I’m gonna sound real cheesy and cliche for a second here, but...well, Spike didn’t have a soul. Everything he did, he did as a literal soulless demon. Angel was off nailing puppies to trees, murdering children, and torturing Dru while he was unsouled. Of course Spike is gonna be a piece of shit. He’s a demon. But despite that- despite his lack of a soul- he was still able to somehow, in his own way, love Buffy and Dru. That shit hits me in the heart every time I think about it. Here’s this guy- a man who wrote poetry and wanted nothing more than for his mother to be happy and for the girl he loves to love him back- who is suddenly torn from his life of being the butt of every joke, with his soul ripped from his body and a demon put in its place. And yet, he still just wants love. To be accepted. Becoming a vampire is supposed to heighten everything you were as a human being. Well, as a human, William was gentle, and kind, and desperate to be loved. But vampires are supposed to be evil. And bad. And remorseless. I said this in the other post I mentioned, but basically, everything Spike *is*, is a reaction to who William was. It’s like two opposing magnets trying to come together inside him constantly. And then he finds Buffy. A woman who not only appeases the demon inside him by treating him like a villain, but also- because of the fact that she’s so kind, so pure, such a light, she brings out William, the scared, lonely human man inside of Spike from all those years ago.

That’s fucking heartbreaking, dude.

Would any man in real life get this type of sympathy from me? Hell no, of course not. But this is a TV show. And we’re talking about magical creatures here. In real life, men aren’t hijacked by literal demons that make them abuse women. They do that shit all on their own. And when it comes to vampires, and Angel and Spike specifically, you as a viewer and Buffy herself can know for a fact that they changed once they’ve gotten their souls (or, in Angel’s case, gotten his soul *back.*) In real life, sure, men can go to jail for murder or rape, but it’s not like they’re gonna come out a different person. They’re still the same person who raped or murdered someone. When it comes to vampires, they’re literally just the same *body.* They’ve got a soul now. They’re no longer controlled by a demon possessing them.

That said, when it comes to Seeing Red...that shit was just straight up bad writing lol. Like, I’m not using that as an excuse or a cop out, I actually really mean it. The writers knew they wanted Spike to get a soul, they wanted to force some conflict, they wanted to drive a wedge between him and Buffy, iirc Joss was off writing Firefly and stopped giving a shit about BTVS, so the writers did...that. I’m forever annoyed and angry at them for it- not just for Spuffy but for Tara as well. It’s like they sat down and said “ok everyone, how can we best destroy our own show in the matter of 10 minutes?” then did it.

Lastly, they’re fucking cute together. Like, c’mon. You cannot tell me “I can be alone with you here” isn’t one of the most unintentionally romantic things anyone has ever said. “Every night I save you”? Fuck, it kills me. “If my heart could beat it would break my chest” stop that’s too fucking painful to think about. “You have to go on living, so one of us is living” nooooo my fucking heart “I love you” “No you don’t, but thanks for saying it”? Jfc that shit makes me fucking sob like a baby every time I watch it.

Basically, to sum up: I know it’s trash. But it’s an old ass show, and he didn’t have a soul, and we can indulge ourselves in some bad shit every once in awhile as long as we know why it’s bad.

[artificialqueens]

No Strings Attached, Part 2 (Willaska, Bitney) - Albatross, Veronica

AN: New life, new university, new friends…what more could Alaska ask for? Following the end of her relationship with Jinkx, Alaska has decided to pack up and move to a new college…on the other side of the country. Nothing like a bit of space to get over a break up, right? As she settles in for her new life, Alaska must navigate her new surroundings and of course, her new roommates with some very strong personalities of their own. A collab with the amazing @veronicasanders.

It was just before 9 when Alaska finally managed to roll herself out of bed and stumble towards the kitchen. She might’ve slept longer if it hadn’t been for the most annoying bird chirping outside her window and the tantalizing scent of coffee tempting her into leaving her nice, warm blankets. She didn’t even pause at the bathroom first, just made her way straight into the kitchen in search of something to help her feel a little more awake and friendly.

Courtney was the first to notice her, sending a bright, beaming smile her way as she buttered a small stack of toast. “Good morning!” she greeted, “Are you feeling any better?”

A nod was all Alaska could think to give right now. Her sleep-addled mind was still struggling to make proper words.

“Want some smoothie?” Courtney offered as Alaska pulled out a seat at the kitchen’s island.

Bianca was quick to spin away from her pan of sizzling eggs in order to cut in with, “No one wants your gross smoothie!” Then zeroing in on Alaska, she warned, “Beware, Alaska. I saw her put dates in that thing.”

“Shut up!” Courtney laughed, “Dates make it sweet.”

“You know what else would make it sweet? Sugar.”

“Yes, cupcake?” Courtney simpered, fluttering her lashes.

God, this is disgusting, Alaska thought, rubbing away the sleep from her eyes. I stumbled into a fucking Rom-com.

“Is there coffee?” she inquired tiredly, “I thought I smelled coffee.”

“Yeah, help yourself.” Bianca gestured to a French press, then asked, “Do you want some eggs?”

Shaking her head politely, she replied, “No thanks,” and reached over to help herself to the steamy coffee.

With a nod, Bianca scraped two healthy portions onto the awaiting plates and sat down at the island with the others. She pushed one of the servings in front of Courtney.

“Thank you,” she chirped, passing Bianca some toast and licking the butter knife clean in the process.

“That’s disgusting,” Bianca said with an amused chuckle. 

Courtney giggled along, offering her a little shrug and a flutter of lashes, “I like to lick things.”

“Where’s Willam? Still asleep?” Alaska had definitely pegged her as the type to stay in bed all day. But at the moment, she would have welcomed anyone else in the room to distract from the sickeningly obvious flirting going on.

“No, she’s at the gym. Gotta keep it tight for her clients,” Courtney said, then when both Bianca and Alaska’s heads snapped up, realized that she’d probably made a serious faux pas, eyes widening. Trailing off, she mumbled, “Uh…I mean…”

“…‘Clients?’” Bianca repeated. Even Alaska felt herself snapping into a hyper-aware state as soon as she heard the word.

“Well…” Courtney trailed off with an uneasy smile.

“Courtney. Are we sharing an apartment with a hooker?!” Bianca pointed a fork at her.

“No!” she reassured her roommates, “No, not a hooker. She’s like…”

“Yeah?” Alaska found herself deeply curious, in spite of her usual desire to stay away from gossip.

“I’m not sure I should say. I mean, it’s not like a secret, but I just don’t feel like it’s my place to-“

“Well too late, bitch,” Bianca argued, “You brought it up. Now you have to tell us.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Courtney asserted. “She just like…video chats with guys and they buy her stuff.”

“So she’s a cam girl?” Bianca clarified, her tone sounding far from excited now.

Scratching the back of her head, Courtney replied with an unsure, “Um. Yeah?”

“Oh.”

Bianca shrugged and nonchalantly went back to her breakfast, but Alaska found her stomach twisting a bit. She didn’t really understand the intricacies of what Courtney described, but part of her worried about whether Willam was careful enough, safe enough. She shook her head slightly, taking a long sip of her coffee. Why was she fretting so much? Who was she, Willam’s mother? And then another thought, immediately shoved down before it had a chance to take root: Does she have a website?

Nope. She was not going to think about that. It was none of her business, she told herself. Any curiosity was simply because she never met a cam girl before.

And she left it as that, tuning into whatever Courtney and Bianca decided to discuss now.

When Willam returned from the gym, Courtney ran to the door to confess her slip up. “I’m so sorry, Bill,” she pouted. “I didn’t mean to spill, but it just came out. Are you mad?”

“Nah. I don’t give a fuck.” Willam flopped down on the sofa, skimpy workout clothes sticking to her, hair piled atop her head in a messy bun.

Alaska’s lips curled slightly into a disgusted frown. Who doesn’t shower immediately after working out? And now she was sitting on the sofa, getting her sweat all over the shared furniture? Gross , Alaska thought, pulse quickening as a strange feeling crept into her chest.

Willam turned her head towards Alaska and gave her a sympathetic smile. “How you doin’, tiger? Feeling better today?”

“Mmhmm.” Alaska swallowed, feeling an uncomfortable heat creeping into her face.

“Awesome. Maybe you can come with us to the mall, then,” Willam added with a coy tilt of her head.

“Sure,” Alaska smiled at her, praying that the heat in her cheeks wasn’t visible to the others, hoping to deflect by adding drily, “Maybe you can shower first.”

“Ha! Well, look who’s out of her shell,” Willam laughed, standing up and whipping her top off, tossing Alaska a wink in the process. “I guess I’ll head to the shower, then.”

Alaska averted her eyes as Willam continued to shed her clothes, trying not to think about her perfectly toned body, how you could bounce a fucking quarter off her ass. Also how did she have no tan lines? Alaska cleared her throat and looked at the ceiling.

By the way Courtney didn’t even bat an eye, Alaska would be willing to guess that this was pretty normal behavior. Great. Just fucking great.

******

Willam was surprisingly happy with her roommate situation. Bianca was a bit of a bitch, but at least she was funny, and Alaska seemed pretty chill, a perfect counterbalance to Courtney’s boundless energy. They were both major improvements over last year’s wet blankets. Not to mention neither of them was particularly bad to look at. That was always a plus.

The mall closest to the campus was incredibly different than the ones Willam was used to on the East Coast. A big outdoor courtyard surrounded by flowers and cute, little shops, not to mention impressive department stores on either side. She breathed in, happy to be back in California, to feel the sunshine - warm without any oppressive humidity, imagining what her life might be someday. If she ever graduated from school. But that was a problem for another day, she decided.

It wasn’t long into her trip before Courtney spotted the See’s Candy and let out a giddy squeal, “Bill, come on, let’s get samples!”

Willam rolled her eyes as Courtney dragged towards the shop. She’d just spent 2 hours at the gym that morning! There was no way she was gonna blow that hard work on candy. Courtney, who had the metabolism of a hummingbird, never understood how disciplined she needed to be.

“My ex girlfriend was obsessed with that place. She never shut up about it,” Alaska sighed. Her heart had clenched the moment she recognized the sign and before she knew it, she was wistfully mentioning her ex. She’d been so open about it at her last school but now with all of her roommates’ eyes on her, she realized that perhaps this might not be such welcomed information.

Courtney had stopped dead in her tracks to round on Alaska with wide, curious eyes. Bianca had arched a brow at her, one of surprise, she hoped, and not judgement. But then there Willam. By the time Alaska’s gaze met hers, her cheeks were filling with a deep pink. Willam’s reaction was the most difficult to decipher. Her expression seemed blank at first but her eyes betrayed her. Willam’s focus was now solely zeroed in on Alaska, studying her, watching any reaction she might make. It left Alaska feeling anxious and uncertain.

But as she stood like a deer in headlights, Courtney broke out into a warm, toothy grin as she blurted out (quite loudly), “Don’t worry, Bianca’s gay too! And Willam’s bi!” before biting her lip self-consciously, realizing that everyone was now looking at her with varying levels of amusement and irritation.  

“Foot in Mouth Disease strikes again,” Willam sighed as she shook her head. “Anything else you want to share with the other mallgoers, Court? Maybe inform them of my ass waxing schedule?”

Hand on her hip, Bianca piled on with, “You wanna call my grandma, come out for me? I don’t think she knows yet.”

“I thought…” Courtney looked from Willam to Bianca, stammering out. “I mean, yesterday you said that you-I just thought it would be better if she knew…shit…”

Bianca broke first, taking pity on her with a cackling laugh and slipping an arm around Courtney’s shoulders. “She already knew, dollface,” she assured her, adding in a wink, “She’s seen us at the Gay Agenda meetings.”

“Ha ha,” Courtney retorted, rolling her eyes and folding her arms, but leaning against Bianca in the process.

“Well, I’d invite you, but I’m not sure you’re ready for the initiation ceremony…” Bianca teased. Alaska had just enough time to catch a hint of a smile curling at the edges of Courtney’s lips before she spun around and strolled off towards the candy shop with Bianca following close behind.

“And your grandma totally knows, by the way,” Willam called after her.

Bianca turned back with a smirk, flipping Willam off and holding the door. “You guys coming in?” she asked.

“Um…no thanks,” Alaska answered softly, twirling a lock of hair in her fingers. Any appetite she might have had suddenly left her and all she wanted was to sit down, if only for a moment.

Willam hesitated a moment, sparing a glance down to Alaska before replying, “You know, I’ll wait outside with Alaska. I shouldn’t eat sugar anyway.”

“Suit yourself,” Bianca muttered, letting the door swing shut behind her as a pleased grin settled on her lips.

Willam had to scoff. She recognized the signs already, even if Courtney was oblivious. “Poor Bianca. Really barking up the wrong tree there, eh?,” Willam said, turning to Alaska with a wicked grin. When the only reaction was a half-hearted chuckle, she asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m just…” Alaska trailed off, sitting down quickly at one of the benches. She turned her face from the crowd up to the sky, expression blank and distant. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m still jet-lagged or something. It just feels weird.”

There was a burning at the corners of her eyes but a few blinks and it was gone. Her heart however felt heavy and dull.

Willam settled down next to her and watched her closely. She didn’t speak for a while, running things over in her mind and seemed to be considering her words carefully. Which, from what Alaska could tell, was slightly out of character.

“Weird how?” Willam finally asked, tilting her head to the side. Her voice was calm and inviting but not pressuring. It was nice actually.

Picking at her nails, Alaska shrugged before replying with an uncertain, “Um…I guess I just need a little time to adjust.” A sigh escaped her as she added in hopefully, “I’m sure it’ll be easier once classes start.”

“Well…” Willam searched for something comforting to say, coming up woefully short. “You know, uh…”

“It’s really fine,” Alaska cut in with an apologetic smile. “Sorry I’m being so pathetic, I didn’t mean to drag you down.”

“You’re not pathetic!” Willam exclaimed. “I mean…maybe a little.”

A surprised laugh escaped from Alaska’s chest, immediately making Willam feel pleased with herself.

“I can see your potential though,” she continued. “So…I hope you feel better.”

“Thanks.” Alaska leaned back, pulling off her sunglasses. “I guess it’s mostly because-” she suddenly stopped abruptly, sitting up straight, as Courtney and Bianca burst from the candy store.

“What do you guys wanna do for lunch?” Courtney chirped, skipping over. “There’s that awesome bakery over by the movie theatre. They have tons of specials.”

“You’re still hungry?” Bianca laughed in amazement, “You just ate 3 pounds of chocolate!”

Waving them aside, Willam said, “You go ahead, we’ll catch up.”

Courtney looked from Willam to Alaska, head tilting, asking in concern, “Are you okay? Are you sick? Do you want to go home?”

“She’s fine,” Willam cut in, feeling oddly protective. “She’s just telling me about a recurring fantasy she’s having…of strangling you in your sleep.”

Bianca barked out a laugh. “Who hasn’t had that one!”

“I know, very relatable,” Willam said, and Courtney blew a raspberry.

“Fuck you all, cunts!” She turned on her heel and began walking in the opposite direction, dragging Bianca behind her.

Once they were far enough out of range, Willam turned back to Alaska, who was shaking her head with a smirk.

“You’re a bully,” Alaska accused, no bite to her tone.

“Am not!”

Alaska raised an eyebrow.

“Courtney’s impossible to bully,” Willam reasoned, “She thinks everything is hilarious…And anyway, I was bullied enough growing up, so now it’s my turn.” Willam finished decisively, sitting back.

Alaska seemed shocked by this news. Incredulous, she asked, “You were bullied? For what? And who would dare?”

“Well…maybe I made jokes about myself before anyone else had the chance.” Willam stated, crossing her arms and legs tightly. She glanced at Alaska from the corner of her eye and admitted quietly, “I was really fat.”

“Is that all?” Alaska raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, being fat sucks. Fat and loud. I doubt you’d understand, Prom Queen.” She was starting to get agitated but something compelled her not to cut the conversation off just yet. And soon enough she was rewarded with a loud, obnoxious laugh from Alaska.

“That is…so very wrong.”

Willam shrugged her shoulders as best she could, muttering, “Come on, you’re sweet and…I mean look at you. You must have been popular.”

Alaska twisted a lock of hair in her fingers, a slight blush coloring her cheeks as she looked to the ground. “Actually, I was the gay weirdo in a class of 45 people.”  

“Yikes. Really?”

“Yeah. So…you know, when I first got to college, it was like, this giant relief. But then…” she trailed off. Willam understood where she was going.

“Listen,” she said abruptly,  “I’m not gonna go all Oprah on you and ask a million questions. That’s Courtney’s thing.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” A smile tugged at the corners of Alaska’s mouth.

“But if you do want to talk, I do have ears.”

“Thanks.” After a pause, Alaska looked up into Willam’s questioning face and asked, “…you mean now?”

Willam gave a casual wave of her hand, one Alaska assumed was giving her the approval to proceed with bitching about her ex. The trouble was, where to even begin?

“Well, I…” Alaska started, then trailed off to bite her lip as she thought things through.

“You don’t have to, bro. It’s okay.”

“No, I know,” Alaska said. “It’s just that it’s all…a little jumbled. I don’t know. Like, I met Jinkx at orientation. Literally the first day.”

“Jinkx? That’s a name?”

“Do you really think that the two of us should be judging someone’s name? Besides, for her it was just a nickname, unlike us.”

“Fair point. Go on…” Willam laughed.

“So we like…we hooked up that first day, and then just…did everything together. And for a while, it was perfect. We cared about each other so much, and for the first time in my life, I felt like I could just relax and be myself. It was this awesome little baby lesbian bubble. I forgot all about high school, the homophobic little shits I grew up with…”

“Sounds nice,” Willam chuckled, giving her a lopsided smile.

“Yeah, it was. At first. And then like, things got totally intense. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault. It was just like, there were so many feelings, all the time , especially after we moved in together the second year. We were always fighting and crying and like…we just realized, there was just no recovering, as much as we loved each other. We weren’t coming back from it.” 

Alaska paused for a moment, picking at her nails again. Willam was tempted to reach over, if only to stop her from destroying her nail beds, but ultimately restrained herself. Instead, her own fingers tapped against her knee as she waited for Alaska to collect herself and continue.

The air between them was loaded but after a minute of searching for the right words, Alaska resumed her story, “And then after awhile, I realized that I didn’t even have my own life. My own anything. I didn’t have any friends except our friends. So I just…I guess, found it easier to cut my losses and never go back there then to deal with it.”

Willam gave her another half smile, then asked, “Do you regret it? Coming here, I mean.”

“Um…no. Maybe. I don’t know yet,” Alaska admitted. “Ask me in a few months.”

“Will do.”

“Anyway…” Alaska sighed. “Sorry about that. And thanks.”

“Anytime.”

“Careful, I might take you up on that,” Alaska warned.

“Good,” Willam said decisively.

Alaska looked down, a smile pressed between her lips. She felt better.

It still hurt but in a new way. It was still raw and emotional but it just didn’t seem as endless as it had before. She couldn’t really explain it, just knew that she liked this change.

“Wanna go find the other whores?” Willam asked softly.

“Sure…in a few minutes,” Alaska replied, staring back up at the sky.

Willam nodded, silently and awkwardly patting Alaska on the shoulder and then leaning her head back to stare up into the same cloudless space.

******

“Fucking Christ, where are they?” Willam wondered, looking around the cafe for what felt like the 18th time.

“I dunno…” Alaska drawled out. Anxiously drumming her fingers against her thigh, she asked “Are you sure this is the place Courtney meant?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” She marched back outside, spotting Courtney and Bianca strolling at a leisurely pace through the courtyard. “Hey! What the fuck?”

Courtney waved happily, oblivious to Willam’s annoyance, still chatting away with Bianca, and Willam scoffed. She placed her hands on her hips, tapping her foot impatiently.

“Sorry about that, back there…” Alaska said as soon as Courtney was within earshot.

In response, Courtney just gave her a warm smile and replied sincerely, “It’s fine. I hope you’re okay.” She reached out and squeezed Alaska’s hand, and thankfully didn’t ask any more questions. A small pang of guilt made Alaska wish that she hadn’t spent so much energy judging her in the beginning…or any of her roommates for that matter.

“Did you at least have some fun?” Alaska questioned.

“Yeah,” Courtney’s smile brightened as she glanced over at Bianca. “B made an…interesting purchase.”

Bianca gave her a wicked smirk and held a finger to her lips. Although mildly curious, Alaska decided not to pry. After all, Courtney didn’t try to force any explanation out of Alaska, so it was only fair she returned the favor.

“I’m sure I don’t even want to know,” Willam said, shaking her head.

“Come on, let’s go get some food,” Alaska suggested in a joyful giggle.

******

Once they’d put in their orders, Alaska followed Willam outside to choose a table, mildly amused at how picky she actually was. It had to be in the sun, but not too sunny, with a view of the fountain but not the parking lot. Once she was finally satisfied, Willam plopped herself into one of the cushioned wicker chairs decisively.

“Are you sure this table meets all of your requirements, your highness?” Bianca asked, watching with an air of restlessness as Willam made herself comfortable.

“I know what I like,” Willam commented with a shrug, sipping her iced tea calmly.

“Don’t days like this just make you happy to be alive?” asked Courtney, settling down beside Willam with a contented sigh.

“Alright, Miss America,” Bianca said with an eye roll.

Courtney stuck out her tongue, then added, “I did actually win a pageant, once.”

“We know, we know, Miss Tater Tot-” Willam said, before Courtney interrupted her with a shrieking giggle.

“No, Miss Tiny Tot! I was 5. I won a car.”

“What the fuck is a 5 year old supposed to do with a car?” Bianca nearly yelled in disbelief.

“I would love to meet Miss Tater Tot,” Alaska mused. A lazy smile appeared on her lips as she added in, “She sounds delicious.”

“And crispy,” Bianca agreed.

“Eh, I’m off carbs,” said Willam.

Courtney rested her face in her hands, looking around at all of the girls with a hopeful, dreamy smile on her face. She took a deep breath, then before she could speak, Willam cut her off.

“Oh no,” she groaned, looking at Courtney with dread in her eyes.

“What?”

“I know that fucking look. You’re about to get all…Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants on us, aren’t you?” Willam accused.

“No! I was just gonna say-”

“Something lame and cheesy about best friends forever?” she mocked.

Courtney crossed her arms and countered, “-that I’m glad we’re all getting to know each other…and I have a really good feeling about this year.” She looked at Willam pointedly. “Was that acceptable, boss?”

“…barely. You’re on thin ice.” Willam teased, snatching Courtney’s lemonade to take a sip.

Courtney’s face scrunched up into a pout, and Alaska decided to come to her defense. After all, it was a beautiful day and these girls were going to be her roommates for the year, so she ought to at least make an effort. And as funny as the constant shade might be, she appreciated Courtney’s attempt at sincerity. Especially in this group, where she knew that she’d most likely get mocked for it.

“I think it was great, Courtney.” She raised her cup. “Here’s to the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.”

“More like the Golden Girls,” Bianca said drily, and Alaska squealed happily. She absolutely adored that comparison more than words could describe.

“Speak for yourself, you old cunt,” Willam laughed.

“Omigod, I love that show,” Alaska cut in, barely containing her glee.  

“What show?” asked Courtney, confused.

“Golden Girls!”

“I’ve never heard of it.” Courtney shook her head, still puzzled.

Alaska tried to keep her mouth from gaping open as she leaned back in her chair. An excuse to watch her favorite TV show, with someone who’s never witnessed the magic before? This had suddenly turned into the best day in a long time. Already thoughts of how to create the perfect viewing party were running wild through her head.

“Well, I know what we’re doing tonight,” she declared with a happy, decisive smile.

“Is it even streaming anywhere?” Bianca wondered.

“Doesn’t matter. I have all 7 seasons on DVD,” Alaska proclaimed, adding a tongue pop for emphasis.

“We don’t have a DVD player…” Willam pretended to look disappointed. Of all the things she wanted to do tonight, a Golden Girls marathon was certainly not one of them.

“We’re at a mall. It’s happening. Also we need to buy cheesecake.”

Courtney clasped her hands to her chest and asked, “Can we all get in our jammies and make popcorn and have a real slumber party?”

“Yes!” Alaska answered, pointing at her.

The pair shared an enthusiastic grin with one another, already feeling their excitement building up to the point of pure joy. “Dear god,” Bianca muttered, looking horrified as she glanced from one beaming girl to the other.

Willam leaned in towards Bianca and said in a loud stage whisper, “It’s not too late to kill them both, you know.”

Bianca laughed and toasted her, but Alaska merely leaned her head on Courtney’s shoulder and sighed happily. Maybe this would be a good year after all.

*******

The first two weeks of classes sped by without incident. It all felt like a blissful daze for Willam, aside from the unfortunate interruptions of homework, that is. But it was still early in the semester and the expectations weren’t too high yet. She could go out and have fun without worrying about some paper or assignment looming over her head…at least for now. So in the meantime, she was dividing her extra time between her roommates, her social life, and, of course her, her side job.

She had a good balance going, she thought.

Tonight however was reserved just for her roommates, complete with plans to veg out in front of the TV, eat takeout (using up one of the rare cheat meals she allowed herself), and watch some horrible B-list movies or maybe just start a new series on Netflix. Either way, it all sounded wonderfully relaxing. The perfect way to close out the week.

They were in the midst of chatting about classes and eating dinner when Alaska’s phone began to buzz. Her previously giddy expression quickly morphed into one of apprehension. Willam’s attention was immediately on her.

She had an idea, even without looking at the phone, as to who could possibly warrant such a change in Alaska’s mood. While Courtney and Bianca chatted away, oblivious to the world for the time being, Willam gave Alaska a small nudge and asked softly, “Jinkx?”

“Um, yeah,” came the quiet confirmation. Alaska was looking at the screen with an air of distrust, “No idea why she’s calling.”

“Pick it up,” Willam suggested with a shrug. “Find out.”

Alaska gave a murmur of discontent, clearly unsure of herself or what she ought to do.

In the end, she let the buzzing go on for another three rounds before snatching the phone up and answering it with a rushed, “Hey, sorry, was just eating. What’s up?”

Her voice was quiet and withdrawn from the start. As Jinkx spoke, Alaska began chewing the interior of her lip, listening intently to whatever was being said. Already Willam was having second thoughts about encouraging her to accept the call.

“Um, yeah, just…Hold on. I’m gonna go into another room,” Alaska replied into the phone, speeding off to her bedroom without even another glance at her roommates.

Yeah, Willam thought to herself, this was a bad idea.

But there was nothing to do now aside from waiting for Alaska to finish her call. All she hoped was that she wouldn’t be too upset when she came back out. But something about the twisting in the pit of Willam’s stomach told her that’d be a long shot. Just look at how dejected Alaska had been at the mall with just the thought of Jinkx. Never mind actually talking to her.

Willam was prepared to offer some consolation once Alaska reemerged and kept a cautious eye on her closed door. She expected Alaska to come out after a few minutes or for the low chattering to stop but every time there was a lull in the noise filtering from Alaska’s bedroom, within a minute it would just start back up again. It left Willam feeling curious and a bit anxious.

Even after 20 minutes and their dinners finished, Alaska still had not come back out. By now Bianca and Courtney had noticed her absence and asked Willam about it.

“Got a call from her ex. Went in there to talk to her.” Her voice sounded weird to her ears. There was some kind of tone to it that she didn’t recognize…bitterness? Not quite right but close.

Courtney stared at the closed door for a few moments, almost as if she too were trying to will Alaska into reappearing. But as Bianca cleaned up the dishes and set them in the sink, it became apparent that Alaska was not coming out anytime soon.

“Think she’s okay in there?” Courtney asked in concern.

“She’s a big girl, she can handle herself,” Bianca reminded her. A short burst of laughter echoed from the bedroom. Definitely not the sound of someone having a horrible conversation. “Seems like she’d doing just fine.”

With that, Bianca unanimously decided that they were going to continue on with their girls’ night. Alaska could join in whenever she was finished, she figured. Courtney was all too eager to help Bianca pick out what to watch, arguing passionately about the merits of whatever horribly depressing documentary she suggested. Bianca kept up the debate, ultimately winning as she had already claimed the remote, and settling down on the couch with a triumphant grin. Courtney pouted of course, but only 10 minutes in and she was lazily leaning against Bianca and watching whatever program with her in contented silence.

Both let their attention become consumed by the show but try as she might, Willam just couldn’t get into it like they were. She told herself it was just because of the consistent drone of Alaska’s muffled conversation and fits of laughter that kept distracting her. It was hard to pay attention when there was some kind of irritating background noise, right?

Hours went by with Willam feeling even more restless than she could remember. She made frequent trips to the kitchen, using any excuse she could think of to just get out of her seat and move. All this resulted in her drinking a massive amount of water and wine. Eventually, she found herself needing to use the bathroom but as she passed by a certain bedroom door, she discovered she was able to hear Alaska’s conversation almost perfectly.

“Yeah, it’s been…it was weird coming out here. I wanted a change, you know? Just to get away from everything.”

There was a pause as Jinkx replied with something.

“No, I like it out here, I really do…Yeah…It’s nice. You’d like it, too, I think.”

Alaska’s voice was contemplative and sentimental. She meant the words, Willam could tell, but there was more to it that she wasn’t saying. Willam wondered what until Alaska continued on with, “I miss you, too. All of you, but you…I miss being able to see you, you know?”

A long, muffled response from Jinkx. One Willam ached to hear.

“Right. No, I get that, really…Just-through a screen isn’t really the same, is it?”

What? Were they facetiming now?

Ugh, whatever, Willam decided, storming into the bathroom.

She was done eavesdropping. She was going to join Bianca and Courtney for Girls’ Night, even if some others weren’t, and she was going to have a good time…even if it killed her.

******

“Good talk?” Willam asked once Alaska finally re-emerged from the bedroom and settled in on the empty space on the couch.

“Yeah,” she confirmed with a pleased, blissful smile, “Really good.”

Willam nodded and left the conversation at that. To anyone else in the room it might have looked like she was intensely focused on the drama playing out on the screen but in truth her mind felt a million miles away. Countless thoughts and questions raced through her mind. Most of them centered around wondering just what the hell came out of Alaska and Jinkx’s conversation.

It sounded almost like Alaska was getting ready to invite her out here but she wouldn’t…right?

It was literally across the country and both of them have schoolwork to consider. There’s just no way Alaska would ask her to come all the way out to California. But…she wasn’t thinking of going back either, was she?

The thought of that had Willam feeling conflicted and peevish. She knew she was working herself into a bad mood over probably nothing but she just couldn’t stop herself from overthinking. She actually kind of liked having Alaska as a roommate- Bianca, too- and didn’t want that to change. It was already so comfortable and easy…why would she want to mess that up? She and Jinkx already broke up once, why go through it a second time?

As Willam’s thoughts began to run wild down that path, she had to remind herself that she hadn’t heard Alaska say that she is or even wants to get back together with Jinkx…so she shouldn’t worry about it, right? It wasn’t even any of her business.

But even that reminder couldn’t shake the burning questions she still had about the call. In the end, Willam spent most of the Girls’ Night in a mulish silence. Courtney and Alaska tried to pull her out of it but Willam was not so easily convinced, so they left her alone…for the most part.

As the quartet cleaned up for the night, Alaska pulled Willam aside to ask, “Hey, you alright? You haven’t really said much tonight.”

“Not that you were here to notice,” Willam muttered.

Alaska cocked her head to the side, as if confused, then suddenly it hit her. “Oh,” she murmured guilty, “Yeah, we were talking for a while, weren’t we?” Willam rolled her eyes. “Sorry, we just…had a lot to catch up on. I promise, next Girls Night, I’m all yours.”

Despite herself, Willam perked up at that thought. “‘Next’?” she repeated, a teasing smirk beginning to appear on her lips.

Nudging Willam’s side with her elbow, Alaska beamed back, “Yes, ‘next’. We are going to keep having these for the rest of the year, right?”

“Yeah,” Willam agreed. Suddenly she felt a good bit lighter. “Until I find some guy to fuck. Then you bitches are on your own.”

Alaska’s laugh was loud and braying, enough that Courtney and Bianca turned around to see what was so funny. Neither Willam or Alaska was willing to enlighten them, something about it made them feel disinclined to share. Though each knew it was a hollow threat, neither commented on the fact and let the conversation drop there. Going to bed that night, Willam had to admit, although there were some things she really needed to work out, and soon, she was still pretty grateful for the roommates she got this year. Her only hope was that things would stay this good, at least until the end of spring semester.

[isthisthingeven0n]

overly cautious : j.w

brief summary: you’re natalies sister and for months she’s been trying to introduce you to jeff. but unlike her, you’re less keen on the idea as you’re cautious of his past.

word count: requested: yes, I combined two requests together for this. one from an anon and the other from @tearsforhan 💛 warnings: none really

* masterlistin’

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it isn’t me. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

“He’s nice, I promise.” Natalie pulls on your hand as you sigh loudly.

For weeks she’s been trying to get you to visit, and now that you finally have graduated college it couldn’t be a better time.

“Nat, I really don’t care.” You groan as you near the house you consider a second home. “From what I’ve seen, he’s no good to be ‘round.” You tell her, having seen the footage of him talking about his sketchy past.

“That was years ago, Y/n.” Natalie reminds you, something she’s been drilling into you for months as you would FaceTime her and David from your apartment. “He’s changed a lot. Just, just meet him at least.” She states in her authoritative big sister tone.

Rolling your eyes you have no choice but to comply. She pushes open the front door and you see familiar faces who smile. The sound of music increases, drowning out what Natalie says to you as she wanders off, leaving you by the doorway.

“Hey!” You turn and see David who brings you into a hug. He yells to you over the music, but you are oblivious to what it is he’s actually saying. “Have you met Jeff?” He speaks clearly this time, just about being clear over the music.

He can clearly see your face drop as you shake your head. David pats your shoulder as he motions to the tall guy across the house, standing by the kitchen where a selection of drinks are displayed. “I’ll go see Zane first, I know he’s been wanting to catch up.” You tell David, putting the inevitable off for a while longer.

“Alright, alright,” David mutters to himself, holding his hands up in defence as he walks off and disappears into the crowd of the party.

Wandering through the crowds, you pass by various strangers. You feel someone grab your bum, and you turn seeing someone smirking to you. “Not happening.” You mutter, moving away from the crowd and head to the bar for a drink.

“Some people don’t have boundaries when drunk.” You hear someone comment and you nod along as you pour a drink into the red cup, purposely picking something strong. 

You down the liquid instantly, feeling the burn down your throat as you cough quietly, covering your mouth to avoid anything coming back up. Instantly, your hand outstretches for another drink and you feel someone moving closer. 

“Night goin’ that bad?” He questions and you turn your head. 

Looking up, you see who it is. After months of seeing him merely through a screen, he’s finally stood in front of you with a small smile lacing his lips. “Could say that.” You mutter in response, unsure if he’ll hear you over the music. 

“I’m Jeff, by the way.” He tells you as he leans against the counter, facing the crowd as you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, I know who you are.” You respond, watching as he quickly turns around and faces you. 

His eyes wander over your face, picking out details and his eyes widen. His fingers snap together as he opens his mouth. “You’re Natalie’s sister, aren’t you?” He questions and you hold up the red cup, nodding. 

“The one and only.” You say with a light laugh, emptying the cup before slamming it back down. 

Jeff chuckles to himself as you glance up at him with a straight face. “Sorry, you’re just really pretty.” He states. But he watches as you scoff lightly, pouring a new drink. “Okay, normally girls respond at least.” 

“Sorry, I’m not really one to fall for those kinda lines I hear literally every single day.” You tell him and Jeff nods. 

“Okay, not a fan of pick up lines. I’ll take note.” He jokes, smiling to you as you hold your drink in your hand, looking around for anyone you know to serve as a distraction from talking to him for much longer. “I take it if you know me, you know about my past then? That what this is all about?” He motions and you quietly sigh.

“I just don’t know if I should trust you. I mean, everyone else does, but I don’t get it.” You tell him, feeling a bit tipsy already as you sway in front of him, resting your hand on your hip. “Like, you seem alright I’ll admit, and you’re hot, I’ll let you have that.” 

“Thanks,” He comments, but you hold your hand up stopping him. 

“Hold on.” You state as you take a sip of your drink. “But you seem sketchy like you have bad businesses going on behind the scenes or some shit.” You suggest and Jeff shrugs his shoulders. 

“I can neither confirm or deny.” He tells you with a small smile. “You don’t have to trust me, just like I don’t have to trust you.” He explains and you nod, accepting that fact. “How about a dance at least? Can’t do any harm, right?” 

You glance over, trying to see Natalie but she’s nowhere to be found. All you can hear in your head is her telling you to give him a chance. So, you listen to her for once and accept. “Alright, one dance.” You tell him and he nods, taking your hand as you weave into the crowd, dancing along with him.

As you dance, you can feel his hands resting on your waist, not daring to move further south without your permission. Your hairs rise up as you turn to face him, smiling to him until you feel someone grab your ass. 

Jeff watches as your smile drops and sees a guy behind you staring. “Dude, what the fuck?” Jeff yells to the guy as you rest your hand on Jeff’s arm. “Why you grabbing girls like that?” Aggression rises in his voice, and the guy backs away.

“Meant no harm, dude.” The guy retorts and you cross your arms. 

Looking down at you, Jeff can see how uncomfortable you are by this and takes your hand, leading you out from the crowds and into the garden. “I’m sorry.” He mutters to you as you remain too quiet for his liking as your eyes remain fixated on the ground. 

You shake your head. “You don’t have to be, not your fault.” You tell him quietly as you wander over to the railings where it’s much quieter as most people remain inside. “I just hate that shit like that happens.” You say with a sigh as you run your fingers through your hair, oblivious to his eyes on you. “Like, who has the right to do that shit?” You groan loudly. 

“It’s a shitty attitude some guys have. I hate to admit I’ve been there, but having learnt the consequences you realise it isn’t fair to anyone to be like that.” Jeff states and it takes you by surprise. 

Raising an eyebrow to his comment, you look up at Jeff and he nods. “Seriously?” You ask him with a small laugh. “You are proof that there’s life after being a fuck boy?” 

Jeff holds his hands up. “Living proof, in the flesh.” He jokes, making you smile. “And I don’t use lines often on girls anymore. I try and at least get to know them first.” He tells you quietly, smiling softly to you. 

“Good to know.” You comment back, glancing up. “And I’m sorry I thought ill of you before.” You tell him. “Probably thought too soon as you do seem like a decent guy after all.” 

“So you admit it?” He questions, watching as a smile plays on your lips. 

You nod to him. “I’ll admit it.” You say as your hands rest on the rails, close to his. Slowly, you nudge them closer to his, shuffling closer to Jeff as your head rests on his arm. “You’re an alright guy, after all, Jeff.” 

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Exactly What You Need: Owen

To the Anon who won the “guess the post-apocalyptic New Zealand kids’ show Owen Grant had a guest star role on”: Here is your requested drabble! Owen Grant, the night he ordered Kauri.

CW: Owen is a fucking creep. Implied/referenced assault/abuse with younger!Vincent Shield, manipulate/abusive thoughts, dehumanization. Owen Grant is a dark man and people triggered by abuser thoughts regarding rape/assault should please heed that and stay safe

Tagging: @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings,

It started with the hair, and the eyes.

Originally, he hadn’t really thought about Vince, exactly - he was just… he was just kind of lonely, and he’d been scrolling the Whumpees-R-Us site, thinking about how it seemed like basically everyone with a name worth knowing and a good stock portfolio had one of the Box Boys or Box Babes now.

And it might be nice to have someone around here to talk to. It’s not like he could talk to the fucking Roomba.

The condo was gorgeous, and he went out to lunch a few times a week with Nicole and some of the former costars and everything that he’d kept in touch with, went to conventions, even wrote an introduction for a book on the dark side of child acting that was pretty well received. He went to the gym three days a week, he watched a bunch of Youtubers that updated pretty regularly. Owen kept himself busy, basically, and none of it stopped him from being really. fucking. lonely. 

His mother had called one night after he’d been drinking for two or three hours straight, slowly killing a bottle of gin and a bag of limes while sending increasingly drunken text messages to no one in particular.

He and his mother still talked two or three nights a week. He was probably the only former child actor he knew who still had a really close relationship with his mom… or at least as close as your relationship can be when you’re lying to her about fucking everything about yourself.

She knew anyway. She’d been the one to help him cover it all up with Vince, what happened, why they never spoke again. She knew - but her constituents were bigoted assholes and in the part of the country Carlotta Grant set her sights on, you have to play to the bigoted asshole or you don’t get elected.

His mom was the biggest bitch he knew, but she wasn’t a bigot, exactly. Just happy to roll over for them for the sake of her Senate career. It would kill her ambitions if too much about Former Child Star Owen Grant got into the news, so Owen lied to everybody and everybody pretended to believe him. He’d been lying about it since he was still acting, it’s not like it was that hard to just… keep lying, right?

Even if he’d sort of hoped quitting acting - getting away from Vince and what happened - making his own life out here away from everyone… he’d sort of hoped he could stop lying, then. But nope. Mom got all political and Owen kept on lying.

He’d fucking hate her for it, if he didn’t love her so much.

In any case, she’d called and Owen had been trashed and it… well. The whole time he’d had the Whumpees-R-Us site up, looking through options, scrolling past faces that weren’t right. Or they almost were. But they weren’t the one he wanted. 

“Mom, I just want someone here who cares about me,” Owen had said, heavily, into the phone. He knew his words had gone slightly slurred, and he waited for her derision - his mother was the queen of it, after all, of cutting you apart with words alone. “Listen to this - a Whumpees-R-Us nonproductive pet can arrive with any skillset you require or phys, physical combination of- shit, sorry, Mom, I’m drunk-”

“Yes. I can quite tell you are. Don’t be ridiculous, Owen, you’re not getting one.”

“I’m a grown-ass man, Mom, and I say I am.”

“Would you at least order a girl?” 

There it is, Owen thought. Carlotta Grant didn’t care if her only child bought a living human person, just if it fit the version her constituents wanted to see. 

He took incredible pleasure is pausing long enough to take another long sip of lime and gin before he answered, “Oh, it’ll definitely be a boy.”

“Owen…” Carlotta sighed, heavily. “Darling. We talked about this.”

“No, you talked about it. At great length, no matter how often I asked you to stop. I want a boy and I’ll have one. Here’s a compromise, Mom - what if I don’t let it leave? I’ll keep it in here with me, they can train it to not be able to even walk out the door without me.”

“Owen…”

“Take it or leave it, Mom.”

Carlotta went quiet again, for much longer this time. Then she finally said, “Fine. Owen… I know that my decision was difficult for you-”

“All of your decisions are difficult for me, Mom.”

“Your decisions haven’t exactly been easy for me, either. Vincent Shield could still cause trouble for me, if he ever chooses to air what you did to him publicly.”

“He won’t. We told him I’d stay away from him if he kept it hush-hush, and he did. He won’t say anything to anyone, Mom. You can trust him. I couldn’t, but you can. It doesn’t help his career either, you know, if they find out about him.” Owen felt his throat catch, had to swallow hard against the tears. 

“Right. We don’t need them find out about your latent sadism, either, but I suppose I must put my trust in the career aspirations of Vincent Shield. Get whatever you want, Owen, but I had better not see it step one foot outside of that condominium if it makes it into the news.”

They spoke for a while longer, about nothing and relatives and people who had recently died or pissed his mother off, senate bills she was worried about and Owen’s latest project bankrolling a documentary exposing a monopolizing pharmaceutical giant, and the whole time Owen’s mind wasn’t on the conversation at all, but on Vincent fucking Shield.

They’d been inseparable. They’d made promises to each other. Then Owen had fucked one tiny little thing up - just the one thing, and it hadn’t even been that bad, what he’d done, and Vincent had probably liked it anyway - and Vincent had left and never came back.

He glanced down at his empty glass with a bit of ice that still clinked, and then up at the Whumpees-R-Us website. Create a completely customized option for minimal surcharges and receive the perfect pet of your dreams.

He poured more gin, added another twist of lime. “You know what my perfect fucking pet is?” He asked no one in particular. The Roomba beeped softly under the couch in its docking station. “Vincent Shield’s my perfect fucking pet. Make him feel pretty fucking sorry for what he did. They don’t have anyone on here who even looks like him…”

Then his blurry, bleary eyes caught a line at the bottom of the pictured Box Boy options. This does not represent the totality of what Whumpees-R-Us can provide. Send us your requirements and we will dedicate ourselves to fulfilling your every need, with an added surcharge.

So he clicked on the custom order form for Box Boys, watching it load, blinking at how fucking huge the page was. And it started with a simple box that asked what kind of pet you were searching for.

Owen very nearly wrote I’m so fucking lonely.

Instead, he settled for Companion.

The screen blinked and new options appeared. Platonic, Romantic, Domestic, or Combination?

Owen snorted. Platonic. He wasn’t some fucking sicko, he was just looking for someone to bring some life into this place. But… maybe it was just that he was drunk, or maybe it went deeper than that. In any case, a thought came to mind. He pictured wide blue eyes in a face that used to be pale, now tanned on all the movie posters. Thought of those eyes full of tears, for him. Then… then he thought of what it might be like if those eyes weren’t full of tears, but something else.

The thing Vincent had owed him, and had never been able - or willing - to give.

Then he unclicked his previous decision, and chose Combination. 

We will return to detailed specifics of your [Combination] requirements in a later section. For now, please list physical requirements for your Box Boy.

Owen swallowed, looked up the photo of the movie poster for Dimmer Switch, with 20-year-old Vincent Shield and 17-year-old Owen Grant in action poses against a dark background and a glowing light. Vincent’s face was clearly visible - soft and slightly sweet-looking, wide blue eyes, curly black hair. Long limbs and kind of a slim body type, not as muscled-up as he was now.

Not that Owen kept up with his career or what he looked like now, or anything.

He started with the hair, and the eyes. At first it felt wrong, like he was trying to build a Frankenstein’s monster for himself, but it was all perfectly legal and if it was really wrong, why were so many people buying them now? 

No, this was fine.

Owen was fine.

He was going to bring Vincent Shield home, and once Vince came back here, he was never, ever going to be able to leave.

He checked every box, wrote down details. At the bottom of the physical requirements section there was a spot to upload photo references, and he added the movie poster, some other pictures from magazine interviews from back then, he and Vince together in a few of them. Shots of Vince with the mop of curly hair and a bright wide smile, flashing whitened teeth. Shots of Vince with his arm around Owen, the both of them grinning for the photographer.

It took nearly two hours to finish, and by the end of it he’d stopped being drunk or maybe he was drunker than ever, but he’d entered a place of perfect clarity about his decision. He was about to spend a lot of money on this boy.

It was going to be perfect.

In the final box for any added comments not covered by the questionnaire, Owen Grant typed, Make it so he can never, ever leave me without fear. Make it so he wants my touch more than anything else in the world. Make it so he would lose his mind before he’d lose me. I want him to be sweet, and kind of a soft person. I want him to put up with anything I do to him. 

He paused, considering, and then added one more thing.

I want him to love me.

Then he pressed SUBMIT, made himself drink a glass of water, and passed out in his bed.

When he woke up the next morning, the Roomba was in the middle of a cleaning routine and his phone was ringing. He squinted at a number he didn’t know, but decided to answer it on kind of a whim. His number was private and only a few people had it - if someone was calling he didn’t know, it was probably one of his mom’s staff members. “Hello?”

“May I speak with Mr. Owen Grant?” A warm, melodic voice spoke on the other end of the line.

“Ah, this is Owen Grant.”

“This is Karen Renford, Client Satisfaction Director at Whumpees-R-Us. We received your request for a custom order last night and I’ve just had time to review it. There is… an exceptional amount of specialization in this order form, Mr. Grant.”

“I… I know. Shit. Oh, sorry.”

“No apologies required. I indulge in a bit of profanity myself on occasion.”

“The, the order form… was it too much?”

Too much to hope for, that Vince’s blue eyes could be all for him. Too much to dream, that he could fix all his old mistakes. Too much, to think he could keep someone here when Vince had run so far, so fast, and made it impossible to get close again.

“Not at all. We are aware of your… connections, Mr. Grant. We would love to work with you on this request, and hope you would let your influential mother know how excited we were to be given this opportunity to truly prove the merits of our methods.” 

Owen tried not to audibly snort.

“We already have a suitable candidate in mind who is most of the way through his basic training, although there have been a few… hiccups.”

“Hiccups?”

“Ah, it’s all part of the process.” She did not quite laugh, but there was a lilt to her voice that suggested she wanted to. “645898 is a sweet soul at heart, once you take apart the rest of him. I think he’ll be perfect for what you need.”

“So why the phone call?”

“It is customary for the company to directly contact clients of your… discerning and exacting taste. Considering the costs associated with so many specialized requests-”

“I am more than able to pay the amount owed, Ms. Renford.”

“Oh, we know that. This isn’t about money at all, Mr. Grant. Whumpees-R-Us is dedicated to client satisfaction, and it’s my job to look at this form, speak directly with you, and ensure that you receive exactly what you need.”

“So you can make him… want to stay here? Not able to leave?”

“Can we make him ‘love’ you, as you requested on your form?” Her voice held no mockery, no hint of judgement. “Mr. Grant, your request is considerable, but I believe we can ensure that your boy won’t ever be able to take a step out the front door without you by his side. We can make sure those big blue eyes are focused entirely on you, no matter what you do to him.”

Owen’s free hand clenched slowly into a fist, and something twisted and untwisted inside of him. 

Vince’s eyes, all on me. No matter what I do. 

“That sounds perfect,” Owen breathed out, shifting in the bed. “I want him to think I’m safe. That I’m the safest thing in the whole world.”

No matter how much I hurt him.