#i wonder if they go aw or ew

[poetess-trobadour]

I have seen boys that played men

And I've seen women who played along

Just to be with such boys,

And vice versa.

I think about how that's funny

In a truly heartbreaking way.

It made me make myself a promise,

A red cotton thread around my left wrist,

Where it's closer to my heart.

My promise, it says:

If I ever carry a girl into this world,

I hope I can teach her many lessons,

But above all others,

I hope I can teach her a lesson or respect.

I will teach her to respect herself enough

To never settle for a puddle

When her heart is loud and anxious with oceans.

And I will teach her to respect others

Enough to be genuine.

And if I ever carry a baby boy,

I hope I can give him plenty,

But above many things,

I hope I can give him reasons.

I will give him reasons solid enough

To withstand any storm

When his mind is shaken with quakes to the core.

And I will teach him to reason with others,

To be reliable enough.

And, as oceans and earthquakes are boundless,

I will teach him a lesson of respect;

I will give her reasons, as well.

And if they happen to live as brother and sister,

I hope that more than from me,

They will learn from each other.

Then, they will be a true power to be reckoned with —

Intertwined in their shared wisdoms,

Bearing their mother's oceans and mountains,

And their father's prairies and thunders —

Perhaps — I'm not sure yet,

Of whom or what my future holds,

Of where winds blow or which fires catch;

But while that part of it is yet mine to uncover,

I have certainty about them —

Unsinkable, unshakable —

As I know that, naturally,

They will be greater than I ever can.

Future, August 2018

[lyroa]

Man, I really need to upload some more art, I got that awful 2018 art still haunting the recommendations next to my more recent art posts lol

[thestarsarebrightertonight]

karma is my boyfriend // fred weasley x fem reader

playlist : karma - taylor swift

summary: when two girls bully and belittle you in the corridors , they seem to have forget the antics your boyfriend likes to pull on bullies.

y/n used , muggleborn gryffindor reader , swearing , bullying , short

masterlist

"ew , what is she looking at?" you heard one of the slytherin girls walking next to you say to her friend , both of them pointing at you and errupting into ear deafening giggles.

you turned to look at her confused , you hadnt glanced their way once , you just minded your business in the crowed corridor on the way to lunch.

"the fuck are you looking at? can i help you mudblood?!" the girl said loudly staring right at you.

"what did you just call me?" you asked with pure shock , you hadnt even done anything?

"i called you a mud. blood. what are you deaf? ugly cow." she giggled with her friend again as you winced at the loud noise hitting your ears.

you werent sure how to respond to this , you were all on your own and confronting the girl anymore would just create a large conflict , one you werent in the mood for.

your eyes welled up with tears as you looked away from the teasing and bitchy girls , shoving your way through the crowd and ignoring the dirty looks you recieved as a result.

----

you finally arrived in the great hall and sat down at the gryffindor table , next to angelina as she quickly went to greet you.

"hey y/n!- oh merlin whats wrong?!" shes said with quickly rising worry upon seeing your teary eyes and frowning face.

this caught freds attention as he observed your face , a deep anger and protectiveness settling in the pit of his stomach at the sight.

"baby whats wrong?" he said softly as you tried to hold back your tears.

"nothing it...it was just these slytherins. girls can be really horrible sometimes , "you voice broke as you forced out light laughs , eventhough no one laughed with you or even smiled.

"what did they say?" katie said , brushing your hair softly to comfort you.

"they just randomly started going off on me for looking at them , eventhough i didnt even look! then they...um they called me a mudblood." you mumbled the last part as everyone gasped and fred seethed.

"seriously?! thats fucking horrible!" angelina screeched in shock.

"im so sorry y/n," hermione added with a look of sympathy , relating to your situation.

"dont worry its fine guys-" you were cut off hastily.

"who." a deep voice said , freds darkened eyes meeting yours.

you gulped at the sight of his unfiltered rage , "i think theyre called lucy and-"

"lucy and beatrice. of course it was them ,theyre proper bullies." ron confirmed as everyone let out nods of recognition , the two girls were known for their unecessary awfulness. yet they never seemed to get taught a lesson.

well that was until they were found screaming and running through the corridors the next day , hair neon green , boils covering their faces , rain clouds chasing after them - drenching them in water and slugs ocassionally spewing out of their mouths.

you gaped at the sight , fred who had his arm around you showing no reaction but a smug grin.

"merlin! i wonder what happened to them?!" you exclaimed to him.

"yeah...i wonder" he smirked as you quickly caught on and gasped.

"you didnt!" you smacked his chest lightly , met by him laughing.

"of course i did!" he grinned , "no one messes with my girl. i was simply using them to set an example."

you stared up at him with you jaw on the floor , yet adoration glossed your eyes over , "thank you freddie."

"dont mention it , once these ones wear off i have another set of hexes prepared for them. thank me later love," he shrugged with a satisfied smile.

[lovebugism]

soooo eddie hears or reads somewhere that birthmarks are where your lover from a past life used to kiss you

and as soon as he gets home he wants to make sure that in this present life r still feel this love and that the birthmarks remain the same until their next life together (ugh so cute 🥺)

i changed this up a wee bit but i hope u like it!! — you and eddie kiss birthmarks on the other for the next life (established relationship, fluff, 0.7k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Eddie traces shapes on your bare back, a post-sex ritual of sorts. It starts out innocent, usually — tiny hearts and flowers and planets that you try hard to guess. It almost always ends with him signing penises onto your spine and laughing out loud every time you realize.

He’s doing it mindlessly now. Touching you just to touch you. His finger trails up your back, circles over your shoulder blades, and then falls back down again. “Did you know you have a birthmark here?” he wonders, breaking the honeyed silence of his tiny bedroom.

Your brows furrow as he traces some sort of outline between your shoulder and spine. “Do I?” you murmur, muffled into the pillow.

“I think so. It’s really faint.”

“Maybe it’s just dirt,” you joke quietly. You don’t see Eddie pull his hand away to lick his finger, but you feel the wet touch of it when it swipes over your back. “Ew, Eddie!” you shout.

“It’s not dirt,” he confirms, choking back a laugh.

“I’ve ever noticed it, I guess. I don’t think I’ve ever looked that hard back there. Like, ever.”

Eddie scoffs, almost in disbelief. “That’s a shame…” he murmurs. 

His finger is gentle and featherlight as it trails down your bare back, leaving chill bumps in its wake. His hand dips below the sheets covering the bottom half of you. His palm spreads unabashedly over your ass, wide and warm. 

“…’Cause there’s a real nice view back here.”

You lift a heavy hand to swat at the boy beside you. It collides halfheartedly with his shoulder. He laughs again. “What?! I’m talking about the birthmark, babe! It’s cute— I love noticing new things about you.”

“Don’t people say that’s how you died in a past life? Wherever your birthmark is?”

Your tired eyes open to find Eddie’s screwed-up face. “Does that mean someone stabbed me in the ass? In, like, the middle ages or some shit? ‘Cause that’s a fucking gnarly way to go.”

“Better than being stabbed in the back… Literally.”

Eddie settles next to you with a huff. He lays on his stomach and shoves half his face into the pillow next to yours, all but melting into the mattress. He keeps tracing the mark on your back with an absentminded touch, never anything but gentle with you.

“Wanna know what I heard?” he mumbles.

“Hm?”

“I heard that birthmarks are where your lover used to kiss you— you know, in a past life or whatever,” he confesses, like it’s a deeply held secret. Then he shrugs his milky white shoulders. “That’s what my mom used to say, anyway. And that woman was never wrong.”

You smile quietly to yourself. Eddie doesn’t talk about his mom very often. You feel a special privilege to be hearing about her now.

“I believe it,” you hum.

His contented grin blooms into something wider and more boyish. “That means someone might’ve been kissing my ass in a past life.”

“That’s awful,” you grumble with a scrunched nose. “Now, I have to give you a new one.”

“Choose wisely, princess,” Eddie lilts and turns onto his back. He spreads his arms out wide and beams when you lean over him. “My future depends on it.”

You don’t think very long. Maybe a moment or more. You press your lips to his chest, just below the faded tattoo on his pec and right over his beating heart. You smile when you pull away, all giddy like a teenage girl, and lay back down again.

Eddie’s chest sparkles with so much adoration it hurts. He laughs it off anyway. “Alright, cheeseball— It’s my turn.”

“You have to do it in the same place!” you argue in a tiny voice when the boy lays over you. He props his weight on his elbows and entwines his legs with yours. The heavy closeness feels like heaven.

“Why?”

“So we’ll have matching birthmarks! And then, when we’re in the next life or whatever, and we look like totally different people, we’ll know we loved each other.”

Eddie scoffs. “I’ll know.”

“How?”

“How will I know that I loved you?” he repeats, like the answer’s obvious and far too silly to ponder. You nod, and he shrugs. “‘Cause I have to. I can’t help it.”

Something warm blooms behind your ribcage. “And I’m the cheesy one?” you tease with a big, girlish grin.

“It’s your fault. You bring the worst outta me, honey.”

You laugh when he drops his head to your chest, pressing a kiss over your heart and lingering there. You pray it stains forever.

[nathaslosthershit]

Birthday Celebrations (Teen Dad!OP81)

(Part 5 of my Teen Dad AU [can be read in any order])

Summary: The Piastri twins, with the help of their mom, try to make their Dad’s 23rd birthday as special as it can be. Warnings: I am currently pregaming a pregame so I am not writing this while sober. Also I decided to make this super fluffy because it only makes Tensions Rise so much sadder.  A/N: Name reveal for the twins! Also this takes place before Tensions Rise, which originally took place at the Silverstone GP but I have changed it to Suzuka :)

6 am on April 6th, Honey woke up to her alarm. It was earlier than she would usually wake up. On most days, her 3 year olds woke her up at around 7:30, but today she decided to make sure she was waking up ahead of them, in order to intercept any attempts to wake up Oscar on his 23rd birthday. 

She had finished decorating the kitchen when she heard tiny footsteps approaching. Two bleary-eyed toddlers entered the kitchen and looked around, eyes opening wide with a sort of wonder only young children seem to have, as they saw all the balloons and streamers around the room.

“Hi babies, are you excited for today?” Honey asked as she hugged each of her kids. Seeing the confusion appear on their faces, she added, “It's your dad’s birthday! And I think it's about time to wake him up. Are you both ready?”

She was met with enthusiastic nods and once promising that they would get the cake they so desired, she held both their hands as she quietly opened her bedroom door, letting the twins loose to wake their dad up. 

Oscar had been blissfully asleep when he felt weight on him, suddenly throwing him out of sleep. Immediately concerned, he sat up with an impressive amount of swiftness before he realized it was his children sitting on top of him.

“Happy birthday Daddy!” They both screamed at the same time, immediately shoving the cards they had made him a few days prior in his face. They couldn’t write properly yet, so Honey transcribed what the scribbles meant in her much nicer handwriting below. 

“Aw, thank you both. What a frightening but sweet way to wake up.” He said as he gave them both a kiss on the head. He then turned to Honey, who had let the toddlers get their moment with him. Kissing him passionately, the adults only stopped once they heard the ‘ew’s from their two kids. 

“Happy birthday, darling.” She said as she handed him a jewelry box.

“I thought we said no gifts for holidays? That the money should go towards the kids?” Oscar asked as he held the box.

“That was when we were teens and you weren’t making F1 money.” She sassily replied.

Opening the box, he was confused when he saw two gold bands inside, a perfect fit for his and Honey’s ring fingers.

“Look at the engravings.” She quickly added. There, the names Frances and Hudson were engraved, the names belonging to the two kids sitting next to them on the bed. “I thought I would buy the bands ahead of time. I know we aren’t getting married for a bit but I really wanted to add their names to the inside and knew you aren’t big on getting gifts. Think of it as our first step towards our wedding” She rambled. She got nervous the longer he stared at the gift, was it too soon? Did he hate it?

“Honey, this is the sweetest thing ever.” He said as he began to tear up. They hadn’t started wedding planning, with how busy things had been, it seemed impossible to find the time. This was the first real step towards their forever. As he looked at them, it finally settled in how much he needed to marry her as soon as he could. 

“God I can’t wait to marry you.” He whispered, more to himself than to her. 

“I can’t wait to marry you too, Oscar. Now, let's go feed these hungry kids. I made special birthday pancakes.”

[sukunasbow]

sick, bellamy blake.

summary: in which you take care of bellamy blake when he catches the virus spreading around the camp!

warnings: fem!reader, kane’s daughter!reader, kinda ‘enemies’ to lovers, mentions of blood and puking, doesn’t exactly follow the original scene from the show, some use of (y/n), and not proof read so grammar but be really trash atm since i wrote this at like five in the morning!

notes: this is lowkey bad and i don’t know if anyone still reads the 100 works but enjoy to anyone who likes this!

“Clarke!” Jasper yells, running towards the drop ship, catching your attention. “What? She’s resting, I’m taking over.” You walk towards the doorway, pulling down the old shirt you have wrapped around your neck to cover your face, wondering what’s wrong now.

Murphy brought back some virus from the grounders, quickly spreading it to almost everyone at the camp. Due to this, you’ve spent the entirety of the night walking around the ship, cleaning up the bloody faces of the people around you and giving clean water to them after Clarke caught the virus and could no longer take over.

As you reach the doorway, your eyes widen when you see Jasper standing next to three boys. One of the boys is being held up by the other two. “Bellamy?” You immediately run towards the boys when you realize who it is, “Jasper, stay outside, you can’t get sick.” You instruct, stopping him from getting any closer to his sick friend. “Come on, help me make space!” You yell, leading the boys towards a dirty cot in the drop ship. “Here, thanks.” You tell them, the boys carefully lying him down before quickly leaving the room full of sick teenagers.

“Bell?!” Octavia rushed towards her brother, who you quickly turn on his side as he starts throwing up blood. “Oh my god.” You squint, somehow still not used to the sight of bloody vomit. As much as you hate the stubborn and self appointed ‘leader,’ you felt awful seeing his current state. “I got this.” Octavia places a hand on your shoulder, letting you know she wants to take care of her brother and have some space, “Call me if you need me.” You nod.

“Hey, get some rest, let me take over now.” You whisper, kneeling down next to Octavia and her sleeping brother. “Are you sure?” She bites her lip, clearly struggling to stay awake. “Yes, go sleep.” You smile. Octavia gives in and accepts your offer, going to sleep near Clarke, still close enough incase anything happens while she’s resting.

Moments later, your eyebrows raised at the sound of Bellamy moving around. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong?” You breathe out, trying to be as gentle as you can, awkwardly touching his arm. He opens his eyes even more, squinting to make sure it’s you.

“Oh. I thought you hated me, huh? Yet you’re taking care of me?” Somehow while he’s going through a deadly virus, he still manages to piss you off and be arrogant. “Would you rather me just let you choke on your own blood?” You scoff. He lets out a raspy laugh, coughing up some blood in the process. “Ew.” You fake gag when you notice some of the blood splatter on your shoes, still trying to remain lighthearted. “Shut up.” He huffs. “Let me help, sit up a bit.” You mumble, taking the shirt you previously were using as protection and dipping it into a clean bucket of water, then moving closer to Bellamy. “You need to stay away, stop.” He pushes you away, only now noticing the lack of face covering you have on. “It’s fine.” You move back to where you were, carefully grabbing his face, running your thumb over his cheekbones as you gently dab the wet cloth on his face. The dried blood slowly washes off of his face.

“There he is.” You place the cloth down beside him. “I can finally see your smug face.” You joke, earning an eye roll from him. “All better.” You hum. A small smile appears on your face as his eyes start fluttering shut. Although you’re supposed to be against him and his shit leading skills, you still feel a part of you melting at the closeness between you and him. “Okay, you can go back to sleep.” You laugh at Bellamy’s attempt to stay sitting up and awake. “Wait, no, I should-” He starts, you quickly stopping him from moving. “Bellamy.” You whisper, “Please, just let yourself relax.” You tone is soft and gentle, something that surprises both of you, even more the man, his eyes softening. He feels his own heart melt, which also surprises him.

As he goes back to lying down, he watches as you carefully walk away, weaving around the drop ship, avoiding the other people that are lying down. He catches himself almost smile. Now, he realizes he might feel something opposite of ‘hatred’ towards you, the stubborn daughter of Marcus Kane that always disagrees with him, who he’s supposed to be against.

[yeosatinyngz]

VOICE OF A DEVIL

Continuation of Sylus’s “Melodic Weave” memory

↳GN Reader | ⚠️Spoilers for Melodic Weave⚠️

A/N: This is my first time writing for Sylus and I’m not that confident, apologies in advance

Running into Sylus during your team outing was something you didn’t expect. However, what you least expected was this current moment where he was joining your team’s karaoke session.

It was surprise after surprise as now you were somehow forced to sing a duet with the white haired male. “This is the first time I’m performing a duet with someone. You always let me experience new things.” Sylus’s words caused your coworkers to burst into teasing cheers, sending your heart into overdrive.

The curiosity of his singing got the best of you. His speaking voice was already music to your ears, you wondered just how alluring his deep and smooth voice would sound while singing.

As he lifted the microphone up towards his mouth, you waited with anticipation as his mouth opened to sing, only to be greeted with a sound that quickly shattered the expectation you were fantasizing just a few seconds ago.

The excruciating silence was quickly overtaken by Alex and Lois quickly excusing themselves. Following after, Tara spits out an, “Skye is really interesting…But let’s not ask him to sing again. Bye!” before hurriedly rushing out of the room leaving you alone with the tone deaf man. YOU TRAITORS you mentally cursed.

“They sure left in a hurry, guess it’s just us now huh?” He says while looking down at you with a smirk. “Yeah, I think it’s about time I leave too.” You let out an awkward laugh while getting up. Of course you could never have your way when Sylus is involved, he yanks you back down on the couch.

“Trying to run away, sweetie? I haven’t finished singing yet.” Before everyone left, someone paused the song almost immediately after Sylus started singing, stopping him from singing any further.

“Pfft I’m not running away…I just have some errands I forgot about.” He irked his eyebrow up, not buying the excuse you just came up with. “Fine, continue on.” You sighed in defeat as he unpaused the song.

You convinced yourself that you were going to endure his singing, however as soon as you heard the uncoordinated sounds coming out of his mouth your walls of fortitude came crashing down.

You quickly snatched the microphone out of his hand and tossed it behind you. Unfortunately that didn’t stop the awful noises still coming out of his mouth so you resorted to clamping your hands over his mouth, trying your best to block out furthermore of his voice.

Before you could celebrate your victory, Sylus licked your hand causing you to retract your hands back in shock. “Ew, why’d you do that?” You exclaimed in disgust while wiping your Sylus-infected hand on his shirt to get rid of his saliva. “You started this little game, I was simply just finishing it.” He nonchalantly said with that notorious smirk of his.

Out of nowhere he summoned another microphone, wasting not a single second in continuing on singing. Just how long is his part?! I don’t think my ears can take anymore of this. Desperately trying to save your ears from the torture of Sylus’s vocal abilities you thought of one last idea.

You grabbed his face and slammed your lips onto his. You weren’t taking any more chances at this point, you were gonna shut him up for good. Desperately clinging onto his lips, you brought a hand behind his head, pushing him closer, deepening the kiss.

You can feel the smirk forming on his lips as his mouth moves in sync with yours, his arm finding its way around your waist pulling you much closer. Sylus is quick to bite your lower lip resulting in you parting your lips to give his tongue access into your mouth.

It’s not long before you both part away from each other, panting from the intense lip locking. You looked up, locking your eyes with a pair of crimson eyes dripping with utter amusement.

“Care to explain what that was about?” “Your singing was damaging my ears so I had to shut you up one way or another” you bluntly stated. Sylus couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, “Oh how your words wound me sweetie” he said while feigning hurt. “You know you could’ve just told me the truth instead of resorting to these overly complicated methods of yours” quickly adding, “However, I didn’t mind the make out session.”

You cover your face out of embarrassment while muttering out, “Not another word.” “Make me” he says with that seductive voice of his and you swear this man is going to be the death of you. You were quick to deliver a smack to his arm as he erupts into laughter. Sylus thought you were just too cute to not tease.

[littlepadika]

Good Man

warnings: no outbreak daddy Joel, ddlg, fem little 🙇‍♀️ , discussion of age play, meanie shamers, bad words

notes: based on an angsty dream i had. i needed daddy comfort 😭 idk if anyone reads daddy joel anymore but i hope you likie ❤️ 💕

"And he wanted me to call him daddy!" Your friend, Steph, shrieked causing everyone at the table to laugh. Everyone except for you who had been enjoying the story up until this point. Now you chewed your lip.

"I hate that, honestly." Your other friend, Olivia, said. "It's gross. Like... it's just gross."

You feel your face heat up. You try to think of something to say some retort.

"It's these older men who get off on it." Steph agreed. "It's like why can't they date women their own age. They're creeps"

"I don't know guys it's kind of hot." Elise, sitting to your right, leans forward and wiggles her eyebrows. You feel a bit of relief.

"Ew!" Steph laughed.

"I mean- like sexually. Not like all the time. That's too weird for me." And the relief was gone

"What do you think?" Elise turns to you.

You feel your face grow hot. Your brain already felt fuzzy from worrying about what to say. None of them knew about Joel. They knew you were with someone older but the nature of your relationship was totally private.

"I think- I think it's fine. If that's what people like and they consent to it."

"So diplomatic." Olivia snickered. "We know you like them older."

You know it was said in fun but you felt your eyes sting with frustrated tears. You honestly didn't know where all this emotion was coming from. But it was almost like a rejection of you, even if they didn't know. If you ever thought you could confide in them now you know you can't.

"I mean... they're kinda taking advantage of you. Like you have to wonder...like it's one step away from a ped-" Steph crossed her arms.

"Steph!" Elise glared at her.

"Bathroom." You stood up and bolted as fast as you could. You hated that you cried from frustration. Like the moment you need to speak up your tears get in the way. You text Joel to come pick you up.

You know they are talking about you when you get back because they immediately stop talking and plaster on cheery smiles.

"Hey! Should we get another round." You can tell Steph feels bad for her words.

"That's okay i'm going to head home."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah we got carried away-obviously you aren't- you know-"

"It's fine." You looked away "I was feeling off anyways."

Joel pulls up a few minutes later. You just want to run into his arms and cry but you know your friends are still watching you leave.

"Just drive." You mumble as soon as the door is shut.

"Have fun?" Joel asks, squeezing your leg with his free hand.

And you instantly burst into tears before you can get your seatbelt on.

"Oh dear." He pulls into a parking space at the back of the lot. "What-what?" He cups your face in his big hands. "Petal talk to me..." His big brown eyes search your face, seeing the softness in your eyes and pouty bottom lip. "Oh baby..." He helps you scoot over into his lap and you cry into his neck. In his mind he's trying to think of anything that may be causing this but he just lets you cry.

"D-daddy..." You cry.

"I'm here, petal. I gotcha." He strokes your head. Inhaling his scent and feeling his big strong arms made you even more mad at what your friends said. Joel was not a bad man. He was your daddy there was no other way to sum up what he meant to you. Safety, protection, acceptance, strength... When you quieted down he peels your face off him and wipes your tears.

"Can you talk to daddy? Hmm? Can you find that big girl voice?"

You try to speak but it just comes out like a whimper.

"Aw I know... you can do it. Let's take a deep breath all the way... yeah... let that big girl voice come back to you..." you have to take your big girl breaths a couple of time before you finally speak.

"Dey-dey said" You sniffle "daddies are bad men."

"Your friends?" Joe felt his heart sink.

"Mhm dey said you were a- a- creep. And I was gross. But you aren't daddy!" You grip his shirt fiercly "You aren't!"

"I'm sorry you had to hear that baby." His heart just aches in his chest. "Some people are too small minded to imagine anythin' different than what they have. They don't understand it, petal."

"But why?"

"It's just how they live their life. Don't know nothin' else." He knows the feeling all too well. How many times has he had to endure awkward conversations about his relationship with you. He got on daddy sites secretly and always felt wrong doing it. But something changed once he started establishing a real relationship with you. Pure love. And so much more than he thought.

"I didn't tell them daddy but i wanted to. I wanted to tell dem you were a good man."

"It's okay baby." Joel smiled.

"No, daddy!" You insisted, cupping his face and looking very serious. "You are a good man."

"Th-Thank you, petal." Joel felt himself tear up a little at your sincerity. Because some days it didn't feel like it. You only got a taste of the hate in the world you had no idea. And Joel was doing his damndest to keep it from you. "You're a good girl. Such a good girl..."

It was so easy at home to just let go and be what each other needed. But the rest of the world wasn't ready for it.

"I don wanna be secret." You confess in a small voice, tears coming back anew but this time they felt different. "I don't wanna be..." you search for the word but couldn't come up with it.

"I know... we'll find a place where we can be ourselves. I swear to you, baby." Joel promises into your hair. He promised himself he would find more members of the community so you would find friendship and acceptance. So he would, too.

"I love you daddy."

"I love you too petal. Loud and proud." He kisses you gently.

~~~~~~~

ddlg masterlist

littlespace taglist:

@lafresamilk @mamacitapascal @prettypedros, @marstheplanet @takochansugoi  @oceanablue @iwishtobeastorm @dincrypt, @bac-1, @spacenerdpascal, @cranberrypills @punkerthanpascal @breezythesimp  @djarinsimp @mylittlesenaar @bbybunbun @phnyx @xwalltoast @dreadwolfxoxo @xwalltoast @mswarriorbabe80 @bearcina @lokigirlszendaya @pedroslilbitch @star-wars-fan-2005  @din-jarhead @hillgoth @m4ngoj3lly @crabbae @im-a-mcsimp-for-mchotties @girlofchaos @joelsflannel @xoxabs88xox @nicolethered @sergeant-major-ghost @pretty-girl-likes-tea @alexxavicry @harriedandharassed @marchai

@Teddy2510

@phillygraves

[rileyglas]

okay here me out… what about alastor, Lucifer and Adam and their s/o meeting their fandom counterparts cat alastor, cat luci, and tiny Adam? Just a thought have a good day! 👍😁

Love this! Thank you for my first ever request!

Meeting their Fandom Counterparts Alastor, Lucifer, and Adam x gn!reader

Cat Alastor

“Ew - what the actual fuck is that?” you ask, looking cautiously over the shoulder of the Radio Demon. A small red thing stared up at you with a smile that looked eerily similar to your husbands. “I - I think it’s a cat, my dear. He followed me home from Rosie’s and I just couldn’t help but feel attached.” Alastor hums in amusement, bending down to pick it up. The cat blinks each eye separately before nuzzling into his coat. “Uhm - I don’t think you should -” you try to warn but the cat hisses with a hint of audible static. A few tentacles burst from its back and flailed in a show of anger. 

“Oh wow…that’s….that’s somethin’.” Angel Dust chimes in from the couch. Alastor gives a few soft pats on the cat's head, carefully minding the tiny antlers between its ears. “Now, now, be nice. They will learn to love you just as much as I have already. Oh you are just the most darling thing aren’t you!?” Alastor coos and mumbles. The sight is enough to make even the cutest of demons nauseous. 

You and Angel look at eachother with matching faces of disgust and apprehension. He shrugs, “Hey, s’long as I don’t have to sleep with that thing, do whatever you please.” Angel walks over and places a hand of pity on your shoulder, “Good luck with that toots.”

Back in your shared room you kick off your shoes and attempt to plop onto the bed. Before your butt hits the mattress a loud yelp makes you jump back to your feet. There’s that damned cat again and this time, it’s four times its normal length, stretched out over your side of the bed. “Hey shoo - fuckin’ menace!” Your attempts go ignored much to Alastor’s delight. You shoot him a glare, “Your cat, deal with it.” 

Alastor rubs the cat's stomach, “Awe dear don’t be jealous. He just wants some cuddles.” The cat purrs and shrinks back to its usual small size. It jumps down and hides under the bed. You huff, “I’m going to go take a shower.”

Mid way through your shower, a scream of pure terror interrupts your peace. You run out in a towel to see what all the noise was about. “Hey I heard a scream, what happ - Unholy fuck WHY DOES HE HAVE A KNIFE?” you yell to Alastor who sits smugly on the edge of the bed. 

The red cat sat next to him with a knife in its mouth. Head cocked to the side with the same smug grin your husband doted. Alastor chuckles, obviously very happy with himself, “I sent him down to see Lucifer. Sweet music to my ears. I think this cat is a wonderful addition to the hotel.”

Still dripping wet you roll your eyes, “Uhg whatever, just don’t let him keep the knife.” you mumble before returning to the shower. 

Cat Lucifer

You sit in the lobby of the hotel with a small white cat in your lap. It purred loud enough even Husk could hear it from the bar, “You gonna try and keep that thing?” he asks. You pat the cat's head, “Of course! I think he looks just like Lucifer! Don’t you?” Husk rolls his eyes at your cutesy voice, knowing damn well your boyfriend wasn’t going to buy it. 

When Lucifer returns from his tower he greets you then freezes seeing the cat, “My love…w-what do you have there?” his face twists in a look of repulsion. You dangle the cat in front of his face, “THIS is Luci - isn’t he adorable! He looks just like you!” The cat stares at Lucifer but its eyes look empty as some drool dribbles down it’s chin

“Eh are you sure he’s…uh - a good fit for us?” He takes a step away from you, “Look I know I’ve been working a lot but getting a cat might not -” the cat jumps from your arms onto the top of his hat, playfully pawing at the snake wrapping around the base. Cute chirps leave its mouth making Lucifer melt. “Aweee I guess he is just a cute little thing isn’t he?”

You gracefully remove the cat from his hat, rubbing its belly in your arms, “Soooooo can we keep him?” you continue to pat his belly and hit a spot that causes the cat to sprout six tiny red wings. “Oh my!! Look dear!! He even has adorable angel wings! We HAVE to keep him now.”

Lucifer glares at the cat, its eyes still empty as if not a thought was behind them. He sighs in defeat when he sees how happy you are. “Alright. You can keep him on one condition, you have to change his name.” 

You squeeze the cat tightly in excitement, “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!” As you rush up the stairs Lucifer turns to Husk, “That thing looks nothing like me…right?” his voice drips with desperation for an answer. Husk looks at him with a cocked eyebrow, “Do ya really want me to answer or would ya rather just pretend I did?” 

Little Adam

Adam’s office was a spacious one. Large enough you were able to have your own couch to lounge on and read while he did his work. It was a usual afternoon of quiet reading and listening to him mumble to himself when Lute knocked on his door. 

“Sir there’s a situation.” she announces. Before Adam can stand something small darts in under Lute’s legs. You leap back onto the couch and scream, “Jesus Mary Joseph it’s a rat!!!” Adam swiftly bends down and picks it up, “Holy shit! It’s a little me!” he exclaims with more excitement than expected. 

“Hey hon maybe we should be cautious with this - thing.” you try to reason with him. Lute looks to you with an agreeing side eye, “Sir he has been causing complete chaos. Would you like me to ‘take care’ of him?”

Adam coddles the thing in his hands, gasping at the idea, “What!? Get rid of this handsome little shit? Absolutely not! I’m going to keep him as my own little dude. Aren’t I Little Adam?” Little Adam squeaks incomprehensible nonsense and gives a tiny fist bump before taking a seat on the real Adam’s shoulder like a picturesque angel. 

Lute scoffs, more than annoyed, “I don’t think you understand sir, he tried stabbing St. Peter before hiding in Sera’s dress like a roach. It would be best if -” 

“Bitch keep your hands off him!” Adam yells, holding a protective hand over his shoulder. “He has feelings too…I mean - I think?” He looks questioningly to Little Adam who crosses his arms and nods smugly. “See!! Now leave us. I’ve got…big…important angel..shit to do or whatever.” he waves her away without another look.

“Good luck!” Lute growls to you. She slams the door on the way out. You walk over to the desk where both Adams now sat reeling over paperwork. Little Adam looks up to you and begins making obscene gestures, humping the air, and flicking his tongue. “Uhg - he IS NOT coming home with us.” you recoil in disgust. Adam raises an eyebrow, “Awe common sugar, he’s adorable. Just like me! You can’t say no to that face!” 

You roll your eyes, “Nope. Not a chance. He stays here. I’ll go get him a hamster cage or something.” 

[cdragons]

Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You - Part 5

Previous Chapter, Masterlist

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton. And if you end up murdering your English Professor for forcing you to be paired up with him, WHO COULD BLAME YOU???

Warnings- MDNI 18+, Mention of SA/SH, BDSM (sex dream), M/M/F sex dream, Felix is a pig, Reader claws Oliver's face, Michael loves Reader so much y'all, Farleigh is on Team Michael, Oliver is delusional and awful, alternating POVs between characters, and author has spent too much time researching Oxford crap for this mess for a crack fic to be a crack fic.

Author's Note: Finals are a BITCH, but I'm finally done...except I have to do my summer classes soon. But I really wanted to put this chapter out since it's been a while. Thank you all who've been reading this fic and sharing wonderful comments! They really help push me to become a better writer!

Michael’s head was about to explode in the next thirty seconds if fucking Farleigh Start didn’t stop digging his paws through his closet and drawers. No amount of clinking and clacking from tapping on his keyboard would be enough to dull out his shirts shuffled in his chest and hangers shrill screeching against the metal bar in his wardrobe.

“Dear God,” the Yankee, stick-figured giant groaned. “How many math pun shirts do you have? Don’t you have any normal ones? Oh my god, are all the pants you own khakis or Oxfam jeans? Do you seriously not own a single pair of corduroy slacks?”

He slammed his laptop shut. God-fucking-dammit, he was going to kill this asshole if he didn’t shut the fuck up.

“Maybe,” Michael gritted out, “if you just focused on the presentation we’re supposed to be working on, it’ll not bother you.”

Farleigh Start clicked his tongue. “Now, now – it’s not nice to be so testy. Most would consider themselves very lucky that I’m providing my services for free.”

The blonde-blind nerd balked when the word ‘services’ entered his ears. Immediately his mind thought of all the rumors that latched to Felix Catton’s mysterious American cousin – who apparently sucked off every teacher in England. Not that he was homophobic or anything – kiss, fuck, marry whoever you wanted, but he wasn’t interested in that sort of thing.

“Services – are you trying to suck my cock so I’ll do your work for you?!”

“…First off, ew,” Farleigh began. “Second, if I left you to do my side of the work, I’m about…86% confident that you’ll end up tanking my grade.” He strolled to Michael’s closet, pulled out a blue gingham-checkered shirt, and grimaced. “Thirdly, I am referring to how I am going to turn–” he nodded towards Michael in disgust “–this, into an actual suitor for our dear (Y/N). Or are you two still doing this little dance of being nauseatingly following each other around like sad puppies and giving each other bedroom eyes without actually fucking?”

Don’t take the bait, don’t take the bait, don’t take the bait, don’t take the–

Michael slammed his laptop shut and tiredly rubbed his eyes. With a loud and audible groan that he dragged out, he rubbed his eyelids until he could see the kaleidoscope of stars and squiggles in the dark.

Fucking damn it.

“How many fucking times do I have to tell you?” he damn-near shouted. “It’s not like that between us!”

Farleigh quirked a brow. “The bedroom eyes or the not-actually-fucking? Because if it’s the former…yes, it is, but if it’s the second,” he brought his hands together in a slow clap, “then well done, Gavey!”

Michael shot up from where he was sitting and ripped the shirt in Start’s hands before throwing it back in his silky oak wardrobe and slamming it shut. Was it so necessary for him to be so fucking insufferable? Was he born this intolerable, or did his fucking cousin, Felix fucking Catton, infect him because being a coked-up narcissist was contagious via proximity or blood?

He heard a few clicks behind him, and the scent of Marlboro Gold cigarettes filled his room.

“So what are you going to do about it?”

Michael turned around and stared at his completely useless study partner for this stupid project for his Classics course that he needs to fulfill his fucking “General Education” requirements. Farleigh Start was leaning against his dresser and staring at him with the most judgingly empty gaze ever worn – all while holding a cigarette between his two fingers and getting ash on the floor.

Great – like it wasn’t a bloody fire hazard to cover his carpeted dorm in hot ash.

He shrugged. “What’re you on about?”

Farleigh took a long drag on his lung cancer joystick before exhaling deeply. His disappointed look made Michael’s eyes twitch in irritation.

“About a certain mutual friend we share and adore,” he drawled. “Whom just so happens to be in my dear cousin’s room right now…at night…on a weekend…alone.” He paused to take in Michael’s reaction and smiled. “Ohhhhh, so you do care.”

Michael shook his head. “Nothing’s gonna happen between ‘em. (Y/N)’s too smart for that.”

“Yes, you see – I know that…and you know that. But my cousin?” Farleigh scrunched up his face and made a wish-washy motion with his hand. “Ehhhhh…he’s more the type to think a giant, glaring red-neon sign with blinking lights saying ‘STOP’ is another giant, glaring purple-neon sign with blinking lights saying ‘Come Hither’ in porno studio 69 font.”

Michael Gavey rolled his eyes and reopened his laptop. “Whatever, I’m not worried.”

“You’re telling me that it doesn’t bother you that our friend is currently in the lion’s den with Oxford’s king?”

“Of course it bothers me,” thought Michael, “but I trust her more than I trust you.”

But Michael wasn’t going to let his forced-upon acquaintance know his thoughts, so all he said was…

“She’s not in the fuckin’ lion’s den, alright? They’re in the Bodleian. I’m going to pick her up from there in like thirty minutes.”

Farleigh cocked his head to the side. “Don’t trust our girl to make smart choices?”

“I trust (Y/N) just fine,” Michael bitterly retorted. “It’s your fucking cousin I don’t trust.”

Because he does – he trusts you so much. He knows how sweet and kind you were to everybody you thought deserved the benefit of the doubt. ‘Deserved’ being the very fine keyword in the detailing because there was no fucking way in hell you were dumb enough to think Sir Felix Catton of fucking ‘SalTbURn MaNor’ deserved your kindness.

Mary, Jesus, and Joseph – he wanted to strangle the old kook when he announced the assigned pairs.

It was Classics English taught by Professor Radcliff Michael Charles Douglas. He droned on about what materials would be on the end-of-term examinations. Everyone in the classroom, save for you and a few others, was either passing notes by throwing them across the room or staring aimlessly at the air with red-rimmed eyes.

“Ya’ ready, partn’r?”

You pursed your lips as a groan fought to escape. You would regret introducing John Sturge’s 1960 American Western masterpiece, “The Magnificent Seven,” to Michael Gavey if he kept up with that god-awful Texas accent.

You turned to your left and shot a blank glare at Michael. “Listen, Billy the Kid, we don’t know if we’re going to be assigned together,” you said.

“Come on, Professor Douglas always pairs the people sitting together as partners so far in the entire term. If it’s not broke, why fix it?”

“Melanie Brown…paired with Bryce Landon…Kemi Brown…paired with Amelia Sanders…”

You leaned on your elbow to whisper in Michael’s ear to drown out your professor’s blasé voice.

“Can we do our project on Hercules?”

He leaned back. “Why him?”

“I want to present on the glorification of toxic masculinity in mythology, and he’s the prime example.”

Michael chuckled. “You just want to piss off old Douglas up there.”

“Katie Caldwell…paired with Oliver Quick…”

“Is that so wrong?” you asked with a smirk. “You can either be one jump scare away from seeing Jesus or a product of institutionalized glorification of misogyny – but you cannot be both.”

Michael stifled a laugh. “You realize that takes away pretty much half of the English, Math, Science, and every fucking department on campus, right?”

You innocently tilt your head to the side. “Does it?”

“You’re terrible,” Michael snickered. “Completely evil.”

“Oh, please,” you swatted his arm. “You love me anyway.”

“Michael Gavey…paired with Farleigh Start…”

You and Michael turned to the front with disbelief. Wait…if Michael was paired with Farleigh…then that meant…oh, no.

“(Y/N) (L/N)…paired with Felix Catton. That will be all – no changes.”

Michael watched with wide eyes as your head slowly turned to the back of the lecture hall. He watched your face pale in disgust and horror when your eyes stopped at Felix Catton. Michael’s blue eyes narrowed at the lecherous grin Felix shot to you before he puckered his lips to blow a little kiss with a wink.

Your body involuntarily shuddered at the predatory implications. Michael watched as his best friend buried her face in her hands. He heard her say the exact same thought he was having.

These are going to be the worst few weeks of my life.

To say it bothered Michael that Felix Catton was making the moves on you, so to lure you to his sex dungeon of a dorm was an understatement. It was killing him to know that you were essentially forced into a vulnerable position, but when he brought it up to your professor, the old cunt-rag didn’t give two flying fucks.

“Professor Douglas, please,” Michael pleaded. “I really think it’d be in everyone’s best interest if you could make this exception this one time. I promise it has less to do with me and more for (Y/N)’s sake–”

But the ancient windbag wasn’t interested. “Whatever accusations you and Miss (L/N) intend to throw at Mister Catton, I am uninterested. Honestly, Mister Gavey, I expected this kind of nonsensical drivel from your friend, but to see you being caught in her schemes disappoints me greatly.”

Michael bit his tongue to choke down the tongue lashing he wanted to give. He wanted to tell this wrinkled ballsack about how the ‘fine Mister Catton’ basically assaulted you. He wanted to scream how worried he was when he didn’t see you for the rest of the day. He wanted to shout how when he knocked on your dorm and entered, he froze and paled at the sight of you crying your eyes out until they were red and puffy. He wanted to roar out the fury he felt when you revealed to him the incident with Felix Catton that morning in the empty lecture hall. The very same one where Professor Douglas taught.

*TRIGGER WARNING: THE FOLLOWING SCENE FEATURES PAST SEXUAL HARASSMENT AND A DISCUSSION OF THE TOPIC, IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ THAT, PLEASE SKIP OVER*

“I couldn’t do anything,” you whimpered. “I felt like…like such an idiot! I just froze and stared and did nothing!' You started to cry all over again, and Michael wiped your tears with his thumb before holding you close to his chest. “Hey, hey, hey – it’s okay. Freezing and doing nothing are two different things. You were stunned by what happened, and your body reacted the same way – anyone who tells you differently is a liar.” You shook your head. “I couldn’t even speak…it was like my body – it ju-just shut off on its own. My brain kept screaming, ‘Let go,’ ‘Get off,’ or ‘Stay away from me!’ But I…the words and my voice just failed me when I needed them the most.” Michael blurted out the first thought: “(Y/N), you need to report this.” Your eyes shot open in fear. “Michael, no–” “Look, I know you’re scared, but this is assault. He touched your inner thigh, and you clearly didn’t consent – that’s sexual assault, or at the very least sexual harassment! If you report it, at least the campus police know about this and keep an eye out for you.” But you weren’t listening. “Nononononono—Mikey... that’s not how it’ll go down. Even if I report it, they won’t believe me.” “You don’t know that!” “But I do!” you cried. You shot up and started pacing across the room. “I do know because I’ve seen it happen! Almost every girl I knew growing up—it happened to them! At school, on the trains, some at their own homes! Whether they knew every detail of their assaulter or just saw just a patch of skin – it didn’t matter!” You weeped. “And if I tell the cops, they’ll just throw away the report because they’ll think that ‘all he did’ was touch my thigh. Consensual or not, I’ll be labeled as some fucking crazy man-hater who’s grasping at straws to ruin a fine young man’s life and reputation.” You collapsed back on your bed. “I just…I can’t deal that kind of shit right now. Not with…” you took a deep breath, “Not with everything that’s happening right now.” “…What can I do to help?” Michael hated how his voice cracked. He hated how completely useless he felt at that moment. More than anything, he wanted to march to the campus police and report it. But he knew that by doing so…he took even more control away from you by going behind your back. And then he would be a no better monster than Felix Catton. The idea of him going beyond the point of no return made him clench his fists until his knuckles turned white. But when you touched his hand, all the tension flowed out of him like a creek. “You already did the best thing anyone could do for me right now,” you reassured him. “You listened to me. You cared enough to look for me when you felt something was off. You reached out to me and stayed and listened. And most of all…you believed me.” Michael felt his throat go dry. You looked at him with so much trust, as if he were the safest place in your world. He wanted you to look at him that way forever. “I’ll believe you,” he swore. “I’ll be there for you – no matter what. I promise. Whenever you need me, I will be there.” No words can describe the relief you felt from hearing Michael’s promise. When you entered Oxford's campus, you never expected to meet someone as endlessly loyal and trustworthy as him. You were prepared to keep your head low and remain friendless for the next four years. You were ready to spend the next 1460 days crying your heart out from homesickness and imposter syndrome. But somehow, near the beginning of your first term here, you met Michael. And you were so grateful for him. You leaned in and lightly kissed his cheek. “I know. I know you will.” And you believed that with all your heart.

*TRIGGER SCENE END*

Michael promised you – gave his word – that he wouldn’t say anything to anyone. But, fuck, this asshole was making it hard to keep that promise.

“Mister Catton is a fine young man…”

No, he’s not.

“…one whom I have full faith will end up as remarkable as his father and grandfather before him.”

They probably pulled that same shit, too.

“A man with a future as bright as his does not need some upstart with delusions of grandeur to dismantle an institution as fine as Oxford blatantly spewing out trash about him.”

It’s not trash.

“Unless it was something with proof and worth my time?”

Michael looked at his Classics professor with empty but enraged eyes. “…No, professor. It’s just a personal matter between me and Felix – (Y/N) has nothing to do with it. She’s just…protective, I guess.”

This surprised the sagging skin suit. “Hmm, well, that sense of loyalty from such a strange girl is surprising, to say the least – especially when you take account of her…troubling background as an American from that horrible city. But perhaps there is a chance of decency in her, after all.”

Michael’s right eye twitched slightly. “And what do you mean by her…background?”

“Oh, come now, Mister Gavey. She’s a New Yorker. That city is full of…of…gang-bangers and drug addicts.”

“Her dad’s a professor at NYU, and her mum works for the buildings that host Broadway shows.”

Douglas scoffed. “HA! New York University – what a joke. A campus that’s filled with hippies and no class. And Broadway? Of course, Miss (L/N) is connected to the theatre community. Now, if that’s all, Mister Gavey, I have an important meeting to get to with the chairman of my department. I trust that this matter is settled?”

No, not even close.

But all Michael could do was clench his fist over his backpack’s strap. He forced an unconvincing smile and tersely nodded.

“Yep, won’t get any more problems.”

When old man Douglas replied with his patronizing smile, Michael wanted nothing more than to knock out the rest of the tenured professor’s teeth with a fire hydrant.

So…no, Michael Gavey was not at all okay with the fact that you were with Felix Catton. He was not OK with the idea that you were within ten feet of that depraved vampire.

All he could do was be reassured you were in a very safe and very public space with lots and lots of people who could serve as potential testimonial eyewitnesses if Catton tried anything.

…Provided that Catton Sr. wouldn’t be able to pay off everyone, their third cousin, and their dog.

You wanted to die. You wanted to literally sink into the ground. You wanted there to be a sinkhole to open under you, swallow you whole, close up, and you would never see the light of day again.

…Actually, you wanted all those things to happen to your useless fuck of a project partner.

“Y’know, if you’re bored here, there’s a party going on at one of my mates’ flats not far from here.”

Felix moved to the seat right next to you and limply swung his arm over your chair. “So why don’t we–”

You shot up and moved one seat over. “Considering how we’ve been working on the research for almost two hours, and you haven’t gotten any work done,” you bit out. “Getting wasted and losing more brain cells isn’t the right call.”

Taking your open hostility as a challenge, Felix continued to move closer to you. “Exactly! We’ve been at this for two hours, and nothing got done!” His face was inches from yours, and you could smell the rank stench of craft beers and rancid cigarettes on his breath. “So, what’s the harm in having a bit of fun?”

Oh my – this is getting fucking ridiculous.

You started to pack your bags and gather all the borrowed books. “Parties aren’t my idea of ‘fun.’ And I already told my friend to meet me–”

“So bring him too! The more the merrier!”

You took a deep breath and mentally counted to ten. “Our presentation is due in a week, Felix. One week to hand the paper in and present our topic to the class.” 

You swung your backpack over your shoulder. “I take my coursework very seriously, and to say it’s frustrating to have a partner who doesn’t take it as seriously as me would be a supreme understatement.”

“I think from now on–” a swift *RIP* echoed between them as you took a page out of your college-bound notebook. You quickly jotted down instructions for topics so simplified a child could figure it out, “– it’d be best if we work separately.”

Felix shot up from his seat with a panicked look. “Wait, now hold on – let’s not get hasty.”

“I already have a basic outline for the paper - I’ll type up the paper,” you continued while not looking at him. “All you have to do is find the books I’ve so nicely labeled on that sheet of paper I’ve given you.”

“Wha-what happens after I find them?” Felix stammered; his heart broke from how his time with you was so cruelly cut short.

But your tone and body language remained as rigid as it was apathetic. “You have my email, you have a laptop – figure it out, genius. We’ll meet up at a specified time and place; you hand me the books, and we move on with our very separate lives.”

You walked out of the crowded library and toward the nearby bench where you and Michael agreed to meet when he picked you up. You barely had time to sit down before you were bombarded with the presence of a much worse pest stuck to your shoe.

“You get off on bein’ a downright bitch?”

God, was every asshole trying to piss you off tonight?

You turned around with a prominent scowl that further deepened as your eyes took in the insufferable bastard who was clearly trying to pick a fight with you. You don’t know why you bothered to look for confirmation. You immediately knew who it was just by the sheer arrogance oozing from his tone.

As an artist, you had a special relationship with the color blue. In the summer, there was a point in the early mornings when it felt like the world was bathed in it. There was even a period when you were downright obsessed with it. You loved anything and everything blue: the sky, the ocean, hydrangeas, the Obrina Olivewing butterfly – but eyes, you loved painting blue eyes.

You thought of them as these warm, magical rarities that belonged to the stuff of fairies and Disney princesses. Of course, you also knew the popularity of the usage of blue with winter and death, but you never felt that duality…until now.

Because as much of a slimy bastard Oliver Quick was, you had to hand it to the guy…he was one of two people with some of the bluest eyes you’d ever seen.

Which gave you all the more reason to hate him. He made blue eyes look so cold.

 You clenched your backpack strap. “I’m not in the mood, Quick.”

Oliver scoffed. “I’d disagree – you’re always in a mood.”

“So stop talking to me,” you snarled, turning around. “And go away, Michael’s meeting me here soon.” You started to walk away when you heard Oliver speak again.

“I’m surprised he hadn’t dropped you left,” he maliciously quipped. “With you and Felix and all that.”

Your nails dug deeper into your backpack strap. “There is nothing between me and Felix – nothing at all.”

“Yeah, for now,” Oliver shook his head. “But you’ll be crawling to him with your hands and knees on the ground, worshippin’ him like he’s Hercules or Apollo.”

He leaned in closer from behind you. “And you’ll compare Gavey to Felix and look back and wonder ‘how the hell could I have missed being with Felix Catton over some pathetic’–”

Stop it. *clench*

“–unimportant–”

Shut. Up. *dig*

“– know-it-all –”

I hate you. I hate you. *pierce*

“– nobody.”

You turned around and dug your nails into his face as you poured every bit of rage and disdain for the single most insignificant person you’ve ever met in each word that came out of your mouth.

“Enough,” you roughly whispered. It was taking everything inside you to stop lashing out even further. “I don’t want to hear another word from you.”

“What? Plan to –” Oliver winced as you cinched onto his skin.

“Of all the mind-bogglingly,” *clench* “douche-like” *dig* “and despicable” *pierce* “crap you’ve spewed out,” you rasped. “Implying that I would ever choose as dull as Felix Catton over someone as rare and wonderful as Mikey has got to be one of the worst.”

“Do not push me any further, Quick,” You felt him tremble as you slowly released him from your grasp. “I’ve tolerated too much from you and the object of your obsession for far too long as is.”

You stepped back and gave the boy before you a good, hard stare. You never felt rage so deep, so demanding.

It was exhausting.

But you heard your name being called out from your left as you turned your head to see Michael waving to you with his arm high in the air. Had it been anyone else calling out your name, you wouldn’t have felt so quickly eased. You were about to move ahead to meet him halfway in the distance before Oliver’s voice stopped you.

“…What could possibly make him so special?” Oliver pathetically whimpered. “Why would you ever choose him when someone as bright as Felix is begging for you? Do you know what being with him means for you? What it gives you?”

…Was that it? Was that his best shot to get under your skin?

Looking at Michael, you answered him without meaning to.

“There’s no point in explaining it to you,” you calmly stated. “And I think you’ve wasted enough of my time.”

You picked up your stuff and left him alone with his thoughts. As you walked away to join your friend, you could feel his icy sapphire eyes digging into your back. Michael could feel how tense you were and asked if there was anything he could help with – but you waved away his concerns, stating that you had already wasted too much of your time with Felix and Oliver and didn’t want to waste anymore. Slipping your arm over his, you snuggled closer to his side and let the familiar scent of old math textbooks and coffee comfort you.

Oliver would make you pay for what you did – you’d be naïve to assume otherwise. He won’t do it directly, but it will happen. He’s the type to drink poison and expect you to die…only to learn too late that it worked as you lay on the ground bleeding and screaming your throat raw for help.

But right now, you were with your best friend; you two were going back to his dorm for a best friend sleepover, and it’d be enough.

…Yeah, it’ll be enough.

Oliver needed to make a plan – and fast.

Getting into your good graces was no longer a viable option for him; you made it annoyingly clear of that by the way you attempted to maul his face off. He gingerly touched the claw marks you imprinted on his cheeks as you tried to dig for his blood and bone with your nails. A corner of his mouth went up as he remembered your viciousness. He could practically taste the blood that nearly trickled down his cheek after you pierced his skin.

He hadn’t expected such a blatant display of violence from you, of all people, let alone on the campus’ hallowed grounds so near an establishment as ancient and crowded as the Bodleian.

For you, sweet, innocent (Y/N), to show such open hostility…to know he urged that beautiful, dormant impulsiveness to emerge…it thrilled him like nothing else. At that moment, he so clearly saw it. A darkness that was hidden deep inside you – bursting open from your carefully stitched seams. A deep desire for more in the dull, dull life God cruelly set upon you. Why else would a sweet, little all-American girl such as yourself travel all across the Atlantic to one of the most prestigious universities?

No, you were like him – exactly like him. Your reaction to his goading only proved that to him.

You weren’t used to it – that much was obvious…but that meant little to him. If nothing else, Oliver was resourceful. He’d learn more and more about what makes you tick before plucking you piece by piece into what he needed you to be for him. He’ll watch you explode before making you fizzle.

The idea of you at your fiercest – only for him to break it down bit by bit until all that was left was a more…subdued version of the hardheaded American girl from the Big Apple who loved to aggravate him during her first-year days at Oxford.

The thought alone made him salivate.

He could only dream how you’d be in bed. Your tight, hot little body would be squirming and writhing from the pleasure he and Felix bestow upon you. You, helplessly lying on your back while being fucked dumb by the two of them.

God, he felt himself getting hard at just the image alone – to make it a reality…that sort of victory, along with having Felix, would be nothing short of heaven for him. He unbuttoned his jeans as he took out his hardening cock into his hand. Not wanting to bother himself by starting slow, he immediately stroked himself with a rough and unforgiving pace. He wanted the pleasure from the fantasy to overwhelm him.

You looked perfect—replete, ethereal, and effervescent. Your entire body twitched as your eyes were blown wide, and drool dribbled down your chin. You put up quite the fight; the scratch marks on his and Felix’s chests proved that. But seeing you on your back on red silk sheets with your wrists and ankles tied to the bed posts made the struggle worth it. The red and pink bite marks that begin from the column of your slender neck down to your plush and tender inner thighs made for a prettier picture you could ever paint. “Oliver,” you pitifully rasped. “P-please, m’sorry – AH!” Your body jolted, and your back arched as he slapped your swollen clit. He struck his hand down one, two, three more times and watched as you thrashed and cried before another peak was forcefully ripped within you and came gushing out. God, how many times was it at that point? Three, four? It must have been quite a high number, judging by how tightly your cunt clenched onto his fingers when he thrust them inside you. “Look at her,” Felix cooed from behind Oliver. The Saltburn heir’s hulking frame towered over his lover as they watched their pet beg for mercy. “You almost feel sorry for her.” His hot breath panted into his ear as Oliver shivered in delight. The Quick boy gasped when he felt Felix’s large digits begin to enter his tight, puckering hole. “Take your fingers out,” he ordered. “And stick your cock inside her. You’ve been so good to me that I’ll let you fuck her sloppy cunt while I finger-fuck your arse.” Oh god, yes. Oliver took out his fingers and immediately positioned his hard cock at your leaking pussy as he spread your legs apart and forced your knees to press against your chest. “Wait,” you slowly blinked. “Wha…what’re you do–” Your back arched as Oliver pushed into you before thrusting into your cunt at a brutal pace. Tears were streaming down your reddened, flushed face as ecstasy-laden sobs filled the room. “Good boy, Olly,” Felix praised as he continued to push his fingers inside Oliver while the nails of his other hand dug into his hips. He let out a ragged gasp from how Felix deliciously stretched him out. He started out slow before moving his fingers at a faster and steadier pace. “That’s it, Olly. You’re so good – so good to me.” God, the contrast between the firm grips and harsh thrusts with gentle whispers of sweet nothings was like nothing he had ever experienced. And it only made the pleasure of Oliver plowing into your weeping pussy while you cried like a bitch in heat feel too good to be true. “Oh, you’re getting so tight,” Felix groaned. “You wanna come, don’t you? You wanna spill your cum into our pet’s little cumdump hole, right?” “Yes,” Oliver rashly answered before snarling to you. “You hear that, you dumb slut? I’m going to cum in you, and you’re going to take it.” “N…not i-inside,” you begged despite your walls clenching tighter around his cock. “P-please not inside!” Oliver just laughed. “You want it – oh, yes, you do.” He released one of your legs to grip your jaw and forced you to stare at him. “Don’t bother denying it. Your body knows how a whore like you is just desperate for me.” He chuckled as he thrusts into you even harder than before. “Well?” “Yes!” you cried out. “Yes, Oliver! Let me be your cumdump! I want your cum so badly!” Before Oliver and Felix permitted you to do so, you spilled onto Oliver’s cock, and the tightening of your walls, mixed with how deep Felix pushed his fingers inside him, made Oliver’s mind go blank – and soon, all he could hear was white noise.

Oliver slumped into his chair as a coat of sweat covered his entire body. Thick, white ropes of cum were still spurting out of his softening cock despite it coating his right hand. He ran his left hand through his dark curls as reality settled back in. Cold, bitter loneliness engulfed his body as he realized that you and Felix were not with him, and he remained as alone as before. A newfound determination to make his fantasy a reality soon took place.

His vision will be a reality. Felix will love him. And you will be their pet whose sole purpose in life is to take load after load of their pleasure.

But such things were too early to think about with how you were now. No…no, no, no…you were far too raw in your current state…too volatile…too stubborn…too American. He supposes it shouldn’t be too surprising that you latch onto fitfulness and inconsistency.

You were an artist, after all, and such was the fate of your kind to be destined to forever claw their way from the bottom as a means of survival.

But, however charming your unpredictability may have been in your concrete-paved, urban paradise that you call ‘home’ – that simply won’t do for him. He was more than confident that he could make you see things his way, but there were…problems needed to be resolved.

Namely, one in particular that came in ill-fitting apparel and bulky-framed eyewear – Michael Gavey.

Only an utterly blind idiot would miss how you pathetically secure your entire emotional well-being onto him. Oliver watched in total desolation and disappointment at how your glorious rage dissipated at the sight of him. But a part of him was equally as impressed at the mask you so expertly paraded, going so far as forcing your body language to adapt to the circumstances.

But…it wasn’t a mask, was it?

You looked at Michael Gavey the way he looked at Felix – complete and total worship. Michael Gavey, for whatever reason, was your sun, moon, and stars. The way you protected and so ardently adored him made the conclusion all the easier to reach.

Suddenly, it all became clear.

Of course…how did he not see it? The answer was so obvious. What better way to force you to his and Felix’s side…than to separate and condition you?

Isolation was a cruel and sadistic thing to thrust upon anyone – let alone who had so few friends in a foreign country like yourself. But he knew how much of an effective tool it could serve for him. Oh, it would be arduous initially – yes, it will. But it would all be worth it in the end. After all, in a way, this was your fault. If only you had complied with him when he was being nice, he wouldn’t have had to resort to such drastic but necessary measures.

Oliver darkly chuckled to himself.

Yes…everything would turn out in his favor. He’d make sure of it.

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @arcielee, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @axelsagewrites, @the1999kid, @poolnoodlerescuer, @aemondsbabe, @winterblu2, @abaker74, @whereismymindno, @agustdeeyaa, @iamavailablesstuff, @bonnieblue0606, @st-eve-barnes, @nyxthoughtss, @immyowndefender, @ilovemydinoboi, @ahristata, @cxp1d, @jinsoulorbitzen12, @temptation-waits, @bollzinurmouth, @jcngw0ns, @seababehh, @destinydestnation, @lankyboi4, @mindless-rock, @cassavacakes, @paradisepoisons, @pansexualpamandabear, @erikasurfer, @lissamans, @cookielovesbook-akie, @thesmutconnoisseur, @izzyisstuff, @lariisouz, @ma1dita, @jeondeluxe111, @itszzmoon, @wolfeginny, @mioshasworld, @bre99

Let me know in the comments your thoughts and if you want to be tagged when I update!

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go pray to my ancestors and beg for their forgiveness for writing Oliver's POV 🥲

[impishjesters]

Im so obsessed with the nonsexual intimacy headcannon between reader and Jax. They are SO good! You're wonderful at writing Jax as well, it feels v in character!! (Even if we only have one ep. :P)

If you like, I would love to see your take on Jax with a reader who makes stuff to show affection. Clothes, art, ect. ect.

If not, that's fine! I love reading through your blog enough on its own, haha!

Jax with a gift-giving affection s/o

warning(s): none A/N: You can't tell me Jax wouldn't get irritable during craft time, patience isn't his strong suit in this situation and he'd definitely overreact if something wasn't going as planned. It's craft time baby, not nuclear codes, you can breathe baby.

Jax isn’t the biggest fan of physical affection, he can but there’s a limit to how much he’ll tolerate.

Being shown your affection by handmade gifts? Well, he’s not used to receiving stuff like this but it’s an absolute breath of fresh air to the idea of being touched all the time.

If you’re his s/o then he’s a lot nicer about the stuff you make him, even if he doesn’t know what it is or have a use for it. (you could gift this bitch a rock with googly eyes and pipe cleaners and he’d still thank you and display it in his room, but in the back of his head he’s questioning what the hell this is and why you’re giving it to him)

If you aren’t dating yet then he’ll still accept the gifts but he’s more forward in asking what something is if he’s unsure. Which could sound like a genuine question or a flat-out rude statement, really depends.

Clothing and accessories are his favorite gifts because not only does he get to look snazzy, but he gets to show them off and rub it in other people’s faces that not only does he look bitchin’ but it’s you who made it for him.

He’s not typically vain but your clothing and accessories make his pride skyrocket.

Jax has zero creative crafting skills but he’ll often toss out an idea for something matching, usually something simple like an accessory but he’ll avoid matching rings. It feels too intimate, similar to certain other matching-themed items.

Now if you manage to rope him into making something with you, IE you supplying it and just sitting there making something together but separately.

The most this boy can make is a bead bracelet, the knot is awful so you’ll have to fix it later when he’s not looking. But hey, you get a one-of-a-kind Jax bracelet that looks like a child teenager made it. (he doesn’t have the patience for anything fancier)

Aside from clothing, Jax also favours any art stuff, especially if it’s of him. Since they won’t get as seen in his room he’s taken to displaying some of them around the tent with a not-so-vague threat that if anything happened to them he’d make sure the punishment followed the crime. (no Caine, you don't get to have an opinion, the picture is staying)

His favourite works stay safely in his room though, you don’t know it but he likes to look at them when he’s missing you. ew emotions

It doesn’t compare skill-wise, but Jax does occasionally try and gift you something in return.

Gangle somehow managed to rope Jax into joining her when crafting one time, saying it would be a nice little surprise to make something for you. (she was just lonely, she feels bad using you as an excuse like that but it worked!)

Once in a blue moon he’ll join Gangle to make you something, it’s a miracle Gangle puts up with him because his frustrations get a little wild for no reason. (he’s like a grumpy toddler in need of a nap time when he gets upset over crafting, man has no patience for the glue to dry)

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Postpartum

Amelia Shepherd x fem!reader Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI (NSFW), sex, oral sex, hella eating out, fingering, etc., mentions of anatomy/body parts, some explicit language, post-pregnancy times (please let me know if I've left anything out!) Word Count: 2.0k

Summary: You're six weeks postpartum, and your doctor has cleared you for sex, but you're worried that it might not be the same anymore. Amelia assuages all of your worries. 😉

Request Info: This was requested by an anonymous user, but the request itself accidentally got deleted! The user also requested that the reader be an ortho surgeon and a third twisted sister. Whoever you are, I hope you find this, and I'm so sorry to have lost your original request!

“You’re good to go,” your OBGYN declared, finishing up your 6-weeks postpartum checkup.

You raised your eyebrows at her. “As in, good to go?”

She laughed. “Good to go, as in cleared to resume any and all sexual activity as you feel ready for it.”

You nodded and repeated it to yourself. “Good to go…”

But as you left Grey-Sloan, making a quick stop at the ortho unit to say hello to the nurses and the other attendings, you couldn’t help but wonder if you really were good to go. Sure, you missed sex with Amelia. You missed her body, missed connecting with her in that way, but you were also so self-conscious. You hadn’t had any major tears or anything, but you had shoved a human head out of your vagina less than two months ago. It was bound to be different down there. It felt different. What if sex didn’t feel good anymore? What if it never did? Or, even worse, what if it looked or felt different for Amelia, and she didn’t like sleeping with you anymore?

You decided to text Meredith and Cristina about it, as you so often did about any and everything.

Y/N: You guys I’ve been cleared for sex

M: Yay!

C: Good for you bitch

Y/N: I’m kinda scared tho…

M: Aw, why?

Y/N: Does it hurt after? Or like idk was Derek weirded out?

C: It feels like I could have been left out of this conversation

M: Shut up Cristina we’re being supportive! And no Y/N it didn’t hurt. You just have to take it slow and do what feels good at the time. And stop if it doesn’t feel good.

C: You don’t have a dick to deal with so you should be okay

M: CRISTINA

Y/N: I mean tbh we have several

M: Ew she’s my sister I didn’t need to know that…

C: I need to know more…

You shook your head and smiled. You decided that you might as well try, if Amelia was up for it. And there was no question that Amelia was up for it. She’d powered through like a champ, but before this, the longest you’d gone without having sex was two weeks and that was only because you’d been brought in as a specialist on a case at another hospital.

When you walked into the apartment, everything was quiet–a rarity at your house these days. You crept through the rooms, looking for Amelia and Pippa, and finally found them in the nursery. Amelia held Pippa to her chest, bouncing her softly as she slept, little chubby cheeks pressing out like she was blowing bubbles.

You placed a hand on Amelia’s back and kissed her on the cheek. You nodded toward Pippa, eyebrows scrunched.

“I just can’t bring myself to put her down,” Amelia whispered. “How was your appointment?”

“Good.”

Amelia stared pointedly at you. “Good good?”

You nodded, smirking.

If Pippa had not been tiny and fragile, Amelia would have tossed her into the crib like a football.

She placed the baby gently on her back in the crib, then crashed into you with the force of a tidal wave–or six weeks of no sex.

She pushed you into the hallway wall, shutting Pippa’s door behind her, and pressed into you, her mouth and hands desperate. She ran her tongue up and down your neck and back to your mouth and yanked your shirt over your head. God, you’d missed this. You’d missed her. Even though she’d been right here next to you the whole time. She groaned as she pushed herself into you, and you smiled into her kiss.

At this rate, Amelia would be finished before you even had a chance to make it to the bed.

“No, no!” she whined as you pulled away, her blue eyes pleading desperately with you.

“Come to bed, Amy,” you teased, taking her by the hand and leading her to the bedroom.

You gently removed her clothes and pushed her onto the bed. “You first,” you said.

She grabbed at your face hungrily as you leaned over her, kissing you with all the fervor of someone who’s love has been lost at sea for several years. She gasped and arched her back as your hand grazed over her clit.

You couldn’t help but smile at how needy she was, her hips bucking into your hand as you held it still, cupping her heat.

“Y/N, don’t fucking tease me,” she scolded, her voice stuttering. “It’s been way too long for that.”

“Oh, you don’t like that?” you said, smug. It was not often that Amelia was this powerless in bed. Usually it was the other way around, so you were enjoying this moment.

She grabbed your face, rough, and then soft as she ran her hand through your hair. “Just finish me already so I can get inside you.” She pulled your face closer, her breath hot in your ear as she whispered. “I’ve missed the taste of you.”

You’d never switched gears faster. No more power trips, just getting Amelia off as quickly as possible.

You kissed and licked your way down her body, intoxicated by the way she pushed into you and pulled you closer. By the time you reached her center, she was panting and glistening and you knew it'd only be a matter of minutes before she was absolute putty.

You pressed soft kisses into her inner thighs, then closer and closer until she was nearly bursting with the want of you, so that when you finally, finally, wrapped your mouth around her clit, she nearly lost her mind. You held her hips in place as she moaned, licking your way through her, around her, inside of her until she was shaking in your arms, hips rolling to meet your tongue. And for the final touch, you slipped two of your fingers inside of her, curling down and around, just how you knew she liked it. Her hands were gripping your hair so hard you thought might pull it out. “Y/N!” she gasped, her breath coming out in short, sharp moans as she came on your fingers. You smiled as you buried your face in her, guiding her through her high and back down again.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, her chest still heaving.

“Good?” you asked, already knowing the answer, as you wiped your mouth.

She nodded, still struggling to catch her breath. “Give me a second.”

You lay down next to her, feeling wildly pleased with yourself, especially when Amelia rolled over on top of you and pressed her mouth into yours, moaning as she tasted herself on your lips.

But as she worked her way down your body, anxiety shot through you.

You grabbed her hand. “Amy, wait…”

She looked up at you, concerned.

“You don’t have to,” you said, avoiding her eyes.

“I know I don’t,” she replied, still looking at you curiously. “I want to. I’ve wanted to for months.”

“I think…” you stuttered. “I think I’d really rather you didn’t.”

Amelia’s eyebrows furrowed. “Hey,” she said, laying down next to you and propping herself up on her elbow so she could see your face. “What’s going on?”

“I’m just not ready.”

“That’s fine, but you seemed super ready about two minutes ago.”

You didn’t respond, fiddling with an edge of your comforter.

“Y/N,” she said, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head please.”

She took your hand and you played with her fingers for a moment before answering.

“I’m scared you won't like it.”

Amelia looked genuinely shocked. “You’re what now?”

“I got messed up down there,” you mumbled. “What if it’s not like normal for you?”

“Oh, babe,” she said, caressing your face. “You’re not messed up. You could never be messed up. You’re you and I love you. I love all of you.”

You stayed quiet.

“Honey,” she continued, more emphatic now. “Your body made a whole human. A human that is sleeping in the bedroom down the hallway. A beautiful, precious human that I love with all my heart and hope with all my heart stays asleep for a while so that I can get in there. She had her time. It's my fucking turn."

You couldn’t help but giggle a bit.

“Listen,” she ranted, excited that your mood was brightening and trying to make you laugh more. “I’m like the Lewis and Clark of vaginas, okay? The wilderness must be explored. I gotta get in there and get the lay of the land. And it might be new, right?”

You nodded, grinning and blushing.

“But new doesn’t mean bad. Lots of times new means better. So just… let me do my exploring, okay?”

“Okay,” you acquiesced.

Amelia was gentler with this attempt, slow and steady and worshipful as she moved down your body, taking her time especially at the place where your uterus still bulged, where new stretch marks had drawn their way across your abdomen. And when she got to your center, she was gentle there, too, mindful of your anxiety, mindful that it might take your body more time than usual to warm up.

She was loving and slow and obsessive, sighing with pleasure as she placed kisses along the inside of your thighs, on your clit, all over you. Amelia’s careful touch had washed away most of your anxiety, leaving behind your flushed face, the shuddering of your body each time her skin met yours.

And when finally, finally, she had you wet and whimpering, she dove in like a woman starved.

“Amy,” you breathed, lightly holding her head in your hands as you threw your own head back, your hips rising to meet her. You could feel her smile against you.

“You want more?” she asked, and you knew she meant, Do you want fingers or a strap or a toy or anything like that?

You shook your head. “No, just–” Your breath caught in your throat, replaced by a moan as the knot in your lower abdomen tightened.  “Just keep going.”

If there was one thing about Amelia, it was that she could eat you out forever. You’d been afraid that would change, but clearly your fears had been unfounded. She was insatiable.

“Amy–” you exclaimed, arching your back as your body approached the edge. You couldn’t even get the words out, just “Amy” over and over.

She reached up to grasp one of your hands in hers as you fell apart around her, Amelia lapping up every last bit of you.

You breathed heavily, watching as Amelia emerged from between your thighs, grinning like an idiot, her face an absolute mess.

You laughed as she wiped her face. “I take it your expedition went well?”

“God!” she exclaimed, flopping down beside you. “I missed you.”

“We literally have not been apart for weeks.”

“Okay, well, then I missed your vagina.”

You giggled, rolling over a bit to kiss her on the cheek. “You’re a dork.”

“Yeah, but I’m your dork,” Amelia retorted, pulling you in for another heated kiss.

You were interrupted then by a loud, crinkly wail through the baby monitor.

Amelia groaned, but you could see a smile creeping in. She stood and stretched. “I’ll go get her.”

“Amelia!” you hissed, throwing a pillow at her. “You can't bring her in here! We’re naked, and it smells like sex!”

“She’s six weeks old! She won’t remember!” Amelia nodded at you. “Go take a shower. Relax. Then we can switch. It's almost time to feed her anyway.”

You lay in bed a moment longer, waiting to hear Amelia on the baby monitor.

“Hello!” she cooed, her voice crackling through the speaker as Pippa continued to cry. “Hi, pretty girl! Oh, I know. I know. You want Mama? Let’s go see her. Oh, you love your mama, don’t you? Mommy does, too.”

You smiled, your heart full as you listened.

“We loooooove Mama, don’t we? Yes, we do. We love her so much.”

[xhanisai]

the stupid chat blanc au

Fu only gives out the Ladybug miraculous and chooses Marinette to become the hero of the city.

Le Papillon only akumatises one person and it's Adrien (who becomes Chat Blanc)

During the first akumatisation to not only bait Ladybug out into the open but also to show Paris how dangerous he can be, Le Papillon ordered Chat Blanc to cause some mass destruction.

It didn't work. For some reason, Le Papillon can't control Chat Blanc nor see through his eyes so all he could do was get out of hiding and find the boy.

Chat Blanc did wreak havoc. He vandalised all the Gabriel-related adverts, threw eggs at the front of his stores, chased after pigeons, inhaled twenty 16" pizzas by himself and so on.

He also got bored so he tested his powers on the Eiffel Tower by picking it up and shooting it into the sky.

It crashed into the moon. He didn't mean to do that.

Ladybug accidentally crashes into him similar to origins and that's how they meet. He calls her Maladroit and she's telling him off for destroying the moon, making him whine.

"It was an accident!!!"

"So fix it!"

"I don't know how!"

Ladybug is overwhelmed. There's news that the world is starting to flood because of the damaged moon, she has no idea how to use her powers, she wasn't so keen on being a hero and Chat Blanc is just an overall menace who is no help whatsoever.

She tried to run away and give the earrings away to Alya. However, throughout the whole time when she was at school, she noted how stressed and scared everyone was about the inevitable flood and Chat Blanc.

Marinette also noticed Chat Blanc lingering by the school, looking really lonely. It was then she realised that he looked like he was their age and he probably had no one to rely on. She wondered about the boy under the mask. Maybe...he just wanted a friend?

The city is flooded much faster than everyone anticipated and even Alya got caught up in it. Le Papillon also makes his entrance and he tries to force Chat Blanc into listening to him. Marinette notes the Akuma in visible pain from Le Papillon trying to control him so she suits up and kicks his ass.

She dispels Le Papillon's butterflies, uses Lucky charm, purifies Chat Blanc (all whilst giving him an encouraging smile to show he's safe with her), and uses her cleansing powers.

An amnesiac Adrien watches Ladybug with awe as she delivers her speech to Paris. He falls in love and when she holds his hands and tells him that she'll always try her best to protect him from le Papillon's clutches, he starts internally planning their future wedding.

"I'll try my best to be supportive if I get akumatised again. I promise! I don't want to hurt you."

"Ouais, Chaton~"

Ladybug notes that Adrien is really cute and finds his bashfulness very endearing.

Marinette didn't expect him to join their school (Gabriel was oddly compliant to finally let Adrien go to public school, looking guilty for some reason HMmMMM????).

The gum incident does happen but it's the rest of the class who are very uncomfortable with him despite his attempts to stop Chloe's pranks (who was also lowkey starting to bully him cos "ew adrichou you're a mangy cat now"). It's because he was akumatised that they were wary of him.

Only Marinette knew that he was actually not a bad person. So with Alya's encouragement, Marinette stands up for him in front of the class and reiterates that le Papillon took advantage of Adrien and turned him into a villain.

Nino is the first to step up after that and becomes Adrien's best friend.

The class decide to give him a chance too and towards the end of school, they decide they all really like Adrien. He's just a silly cat.

After school, Adrien waits for Marinette to come out of the building and gives her this heartwarming, cute thank you. He offers her his umbrella and doesn't realise he's also won over her heart. She falls for him.

After all of this, because Gabriel is a perfectionist, he only akumatises Adrien. He wants to try and be able to form the link with him. He akumatises him every time even if it's at the slightest of inconveniences. Be it that they ran out of milk in the kitchen or he accidentally bit the inside of his mouth or that he tripped over his chair, Adrien will get akumatised.

Chat Blanc has a playful relationship with Ladybug. He really likes her but at the same time, he doesn't like having to co-operate and loves being a menace.

"Here, minou, minou, minou!"

"Let me chase after those people in peace!"

"No! That's not very nice!"

"But they did it to that small kid first!"

"...Okay. But you can't just threaten to make them bald and shoot cataclysms at them!"

"BOOOOOOOOOO."

Blanc is also very flirty with Ladybug but she doesn't take him seriously because he ends up growing a liking to her civilian persona too and is just as flirty (Ladybug refuses to acknowledge she's low-key jealous of her own self and Tikki is tired of this shit).

He's more aware of his feelings as Adrien, madly in love with Ladybug and desperate to be closer with Marinette because she's so cool, right??!?

He can remember some things that happened when he was akumatised after he gets purified and often gets embarrassed. He gets all flustered and apologises to Ladybug but she always laughs it off and pats his head and calls him cute nicknames.

Sometimes she stutters like Marinette and Adrien finds it so both endearing and worrying. Hopefully, he doesn't intimidate them both.

He's close friends with Nino, Alya and Marinette. Often they're there every time he gets akumatised. As Chat Blanc, he never tries to pull pranks on them or do mean things. He's extra protective of them.

Alya finds it really funny and interesting how chummy Chat Blanc can get with Marinette and Ladybug.

As Chat Blanc, he has all his memories of being Adrien but his intrusive actions and thoughts are much stronger. (Like a goofy, terrible villain Chat Noir.)

The more Ladybug gets to know him, the more she realises how hard Adrien's life actually is and the things he's been through. So she tries her best to be a very good friend and look after him.

Le Papillon finally manages to create a link between him and Chat Blanc, however it turns out that all along the Akuma has been erasing the link with his infinite destruction.

"Finally! I can reach you, Chat Blanc-"

"Sup, old man."

"Now, you will listen to me and retrieve Ladybug's earrings-"

"Byeeeeeee~"

"NO WAIT PLEASE-"

Le Papillon tries to entice Blanc with offers and promises but it never works. The only time he got close was when he offered him all the fatty tuna he could ever dream of...

Le Papillon realises that using Chat Blanc wouldn't work. But he didn't want to akumatise anyone else because Chat Blanc was just the perfect Akuma and AAAAAAA. So, Mayura steps in.

The first Sentimonstre causes serious harm and almost takes Ladybug out of commission. So Chat Blanc stepped in to save her and he wasn't very happy >:D

And that's it for now~

[bazpire]

Unpopular opinions about redacted Audio (if I get cancelled, remember me as the sexy, hot, smart little nuisance I used to be)

I do not hate any of the characters that are normally hated, because I just don't care about them.

Kody? Whatever, he was a prop, barely a character.

Adam? Incel vibes, grosses me out.

Alexis? I wish she had more screen time and more development because there is so much potential. She clearly is more than just shitty bitchy vampire princess.

Cutie? To be completely honest, Geordi is kind of unnerving on his lack of action and communication, no wonder they felt like they had to read his mind (not an excuse, still awful behaviour, but fucking hell man)

That doesn't mean that I love them or that I love every character. Of course, there are characters that I dislike! Like Porter and... no, I think that's it, I just heavily dislike Porter for no other reason than because he was mean to Vincent. Vincent isn't even my favourite. Sam also gave me the ick. For no reason, he just did, I go "ew" every time I hear him (lol, sorry, I really don't have a reason. I just randomly got the ick)

Also the whole fandom has a moral problem. I mean that there are people here that ride a moral high horse for enjoying/not enjoying something that's fictional.

You don't like the caller because he's a yandere, but because he's a good character? Perfect! But don't be out here bragging about it feeling better than people that do like him because he's a yandere.

Also people hating on others for simping for characters that they deem bad. Like Blake.

Please, one real problem I ask of you.

I love y'all, but some of y'all have not had an actual problem like ever and it shows. Please, be so for real.

Anyway, that was it! At the end of the day this is all silly goofy and none of the characters are real and it does not affect reality (and if it does, it isn't fault of the creator or other fans, some people can't separate fiction from reality and that is responsibility of those specific people to handle themselves in the Internet. It is not the responsibility of fans that can and do.)

Kisses and be safe, remember that I'm just another person on the Internet and my opinions, as much as you agree or disagree with them, do not change your life in any meaningful way!

[cipheramnesia]

I'm trying to wrap my head around this shit based horror movie, because I've never seen anything like it.

I've seen poop used for shock value or as a joke or even as a set piece but I haven't really come across someone who made shit the center of the film. The whole premise hinges on the idea that the protagonist had some kind of gut biome disease, which drives people around her into a state of murderous rage. The condition gets worse over the course of the film both in terms of how rapidly the violence begins, and also how much pain the protagonist is from the stomach disease.

What I find striking is how seriously it plays things out, from the on-going and escalating paranoia of the protagonist, who is also constantly falling in and out of reality-questioning delirium, to the veracity of reactions excrement. It's difficult to put into words, but the shit scenes manage to convey the bone deep exhaustion that comes with wanting to use the bathroom easily, and not being able to. It's not a movie trying to express shit as "ew gross" but instead as this essential part of the human body which can go wrong in genuinely upsetting and awful ways.

It suffers a bit from budget issues - the acting isn't great, sets are obviously people's homes in many cases - but it manages to succeed thanks to taking material that could have easily become juvenile and ironic, and treating it seriously (also a solid lead actress). It's a movie that ends up being about how openly hostile the world can become when you have a disability, especially one which crosses social taboos as much as bowel issues does. About how quickly friends and strangers can turn on you when they discover your problems are related to excrement, and they might have to deal with that. And of course about what people who are disabled are expected to endure just to be treated like a human.

It's still muddled. It's a B- movie that's taking A-level swings and hitting most of the time. And in some ways I almost wonder if the small production value and budget actors are why it succeeds. I don't think even a low but not microbudget production would have been allowed to be so unflinching and get away with shooting as something that can be a source of genuine terror and unhappiness.

Anyway it's called GoodBi (2022, bi as in biome, sorry bisexuals), and it's on Tubi. Obviously this one is not for the weak of stomach, but there isn't much gore.

[cvrnelians]

smile like you mean it - chapter five

You knew filing for divorce would be no easy feat. But filing for divorce from Roman Roy?

"No easy feat” might as well have been synonymous with “impossible."

warnings: drug use, alcoholism, miscarriage, Roman and the rest of the Roy family being awful.

chapters 1-3 // chapter four

music

chapter five

10 ways to get someone to like you: A foolproof guide

If you want to be liked, be likable.

Roman scowled and slammed his laptop shut, carelessly tossing it to the end of the bed. 

“What a stupid fucking article.”

He got up and stretched, his limbs still rigid from a heavy sleep. If there was anything positive to come out of the complete and utter shitshow that was the day before, a good night’s sleep took the cake. Rest was something Roman didn’t get a whole lot of lately, but when he did sleep, he slept hard. 

Prior to becoming COO of Waystar Royco, he had always been a heavy sleeper. It wasn’t unusual for him to get eight hours of shuteye even after napping all day. He had a copious amount of (not-so-fond) childhood memories in which Connor, Kendall, and Shiv jumped on his bed in order to wake him up. They often had to hit him with pillows and shake him to the point of nausea to get him to finally open his eyes.

Well, they didn’t really have to. 

There were a small handful of differences between now and then. 

Although he would never admit it, his job was a big source of stress for him. The most pathetic thing about it? Most days he didn’t accomplish even twenty five percent of what his colleagues did. And what he was able to do completely exhausted him. It was a lot to live up to, being the inheritor—and now a figurehead—of a monster he hadn’t created; a monster he wasn’t even sure he wanted to keep feeding. 

Another major difference between now and then was that Kendall no longer needed to shake him from a dead sleep in order to make him feel nauseous. All it really took was watching him walk into your room in the middle of the night, casual as could be, to put Roman into a not-so-ideal headspace.

“Acting like he was reuniting with an old friend or some shit,” he mumbled under his breath. He got into the shower, his mind going a million miles a minute as he continued talking to himself. “I’m Kendall,” he mocked. “I’m better than everyone now, didn’t you know? I went to rehab. I drink green juice. I’ve read The Secret. I don’t have stress anymore because I never see my own children. Look how stable I am now.” 

This was the one downside of being so well-rested. His brain actually lived up to its potential. His mind simply refused to slow down. No matter how hard he willed himself not to think of you, he only thought about you that much more. Not that this was all that different from any other day. Roman thought about you all the time, sleep deprived or not.

He liked you. Okay? Even with your cheap clothes and your shitty attitude and your refusal to sit next to him in the car, he had some…feelings when it came to you.

Ew.

He hated it when you were upset with him, and he hated it even more when you weren’t around.

From the first time he saw you, he liked you. A lot, actually.

Roman liked you a lot.

He had gone to your room the night before to say he was sorry discuss how hypersensitive you were being in response to the hilarious things he said, but he stopped short in the doorway. 

As it turned out, you were busy. So as any gentleman would, Roman said fuck that noise and booked it back to his room. That was the second time you made him run that day, you little jerk.

He wondered if he should take bearing witness to that stomach-turning embrace between you and Kendall as a sign. Perhaps he should never apologize to anyone, for any reason, ever again. Not even to those who deserved an apology. Not even to you. If that was what he got for trying to be the bigger person, having to watch his stormcloud of an older brother get what he wanted without even having to try, well…what was the point? 

“Likable. Likable? What does that even mean?” he asked himself. 

Why would the author of that article automatically assume the people reading it were the unlikable ones? What kind of introduction was that? Why should he have to shoulder the responsibility of someone not liking him? Why should he have to do all this work to win you over? Why was he even worried about it? You should be the one trying to get into his good graces. You should be the one typing stupid questions into Google at seven o’ clock in the morning, not him. It didn’t matter that he called you a run-of-the-mill, ladder climbing, H&M wearing plebeian (or a coffee gopher). It didn’t matter that he had driven you to the brink of a full blown mental breakdown under his tenure. It didn’t matter that knowing he was the one that made you cry felt like a punch to the gut.

...which didn't even turn him on, by the way.

None of it mattered. He shouldn’t have to apologize for a thing. You were obviously sleeping with Kendall. Kendall! Even if you weren’t working for him, sleeping with Kendall would still put you in the wrong in any context. You were trying so desperately to make Roman believe he was the problem, just as everyone else did. You little gaslighter. 

You weren’t seriously going to leave over a couple of little insults, right?

Right?

He was so distracted by his own thoughts, he somehow managed to get a concerning amount of shampoo in his eyes. 

“Ow, FUCK!” 

Following five stressful minutes of washing his eyes out (or trying to, anyway), he slumped over and held his hands over his face, allowing the water to run directly over his head. He could still picture you crying on the plane, which he had been doing on a loop for the past several hours. He could concede that he came off a little unpleasant at times, but it was more of a defense mechanism than anything. Deep down, Roman knew he didn’t take anyone seriously simply because no one else took him seriously. But you had wanted to be taken seriously, and did everything to earn that. 

You were having some relatively fun banter prior to the moment he turned on you like a feral dog. When he was finished with his cutting little monologue, you looked like you had been slapped. Seeing you so upset and proceeding to mock you for it…

Ugh.

This was not uncharacteristic of Roman, but it wasn't necessarily his proudest moment, either. It made him sick to his stomach, as a matter of fact. 

A lot of things about the past few days made him sick to his stomach.

He could remember having a similar feeling from when he was growing up. Everything would be fine and dandy until he would say or do one little thing to set Logan off, and then bam: 

First came the hurt, then came the ridicule. 

“Oh, you’re crying now? You’re crying? Why don’t you just go tell Kendall about it? I’m sure he’d love nothing more.” 

Roman cringed at his own words.

First came the hurt, then came the ridicule. 

And then he was alone.

If you want to be liked, be likable.

He would never say it to you directly, but if he could, he would.

"I’m sorry I made you so sad."

☽ 

“You have no idea how things will turn out, and it’s very juvenile. It’s fucking dumb. You’re being dumb!”

You cringed as Kendall’s words bounced around in your head.

Last night had been very interesting, to say the least.

For several hours now, you lay flat on your back, slipping in and out of a restless sleep. When you did become lucid, you simply stared up at the impossibly tall vaulted ceiling. It was painted and preserved beautifully, gold borders encasing rich shades of red and blue. You reached your arm up, pretending to trace and retrace the intricate patterns with your fingers. Exhausted yet unable to sleep, you needed something mindless and soothing to wind yourself down. 

Sadly, your efforts were to no avail. Your mind was still racing, hyper focused on what transpired the night before. It was jarring to think that just a simple “so, how have you been?” from Kendall would open a Pandora's box you had no clue even existed. You didn’t have much time to concentrate on it, though. At that moment, two things happened at once.

You felt a stab of panic as you received a notification that your flight was now boarding. You couldn’t believe it. You had missed your flight. You had dissociated to the point of having missed your flight. And before you could even sit up, you were startled by a loud banging noise against your door. It sounded like someone was ramming something into it full force. You weren't even sure who you were hoping not to see at this point.

Not since Kendall went absolutely ballistic on you.

“Knock, knock!” a familiar voice yelled. He didn’t bother actually knocking, nor did he wait for you to respond. He probably thought the unpleasant crash was sufficient enough.

You were almost relieved.

Enter one Roman Roy.

But he wasn’t alone. In front of him was the culprit, the battering ram that nearly gave you a heart attack, in the form of a large metal breakfast cart. If that wasn’t bizarre enough, he was dressed in athletic wear. He looked out of place in such a grandiose room, like you were playing a beginner’s version of “I Spy.” 

I spy with my little eye something reprehensible.

“Here comes the breakfast fairy,” he said in an awkward, singsong voice. He slowly rolled  the unsteady cart towards you. “Here to um…y’know. Bring you breakfast. Breakfast just for you.”

A wheel broke off as he made his way over, making coffee spill onto the tray. He cursed as he shakily lifted the tray up off the cart and reached over to hand it to you. You gawked at him. “Okay, that’s what I get for saying that. That was fucking stupid. I didn’t say that. You don’t remember me saying that.” 

“You brought me breakfast?”

“It would appear so,” he said cheerfully. “Like a good boy.”

“I missed my flight,” you blurted out awkwardly. 

He paused for a second, taking a deep breath before reverting back to his typically rude delivery. “Yeah, not my problem. Can you please just take the tray? It’s really heavy.”  

“I missed my flight,” you repeated. 

He ignored you and slowly set the tray on your lap. He lifted the lid to reveal a pretty solid breakfast as far as you were concerned: a single poptart and two comically large cups of coffee. One was black, the other a latte with a poorly drawn happy face carved into the foam. You would have laughed if you weren’t so stressed out. All of this buildup for a lone pastry and an alarming amount of coffee.

“Where’s the second poptart?”

“I ate it. Obviously. Don’t be ungrateful,” he snapped. “You like wildberry, right? You seem like you would like wildberry. A little fun, a little different. Spice up your life, or whatever.”

You rolled your eyes, breaking the poptart into several pieces before taking a bite. “You could have the most elaborate breakfast in the world, and yet you’d prefer to have this?”

“What? I may be rich but that doesn’t mean I like exclusively rich people things. Have you seen rich people food? I mean, probably not but…” 

You tentatively picked up the latte. “Did you poison this? Did you spit in this?”

“Hah, you wish.”

“I wish?”

“I mean, I can if you’d like,” he said, leaning towards you.

“No!” you yelled, making him wince. You lowered your voice. “Sorry, no. I think I’m alright.”

He reached down to pick up the other mug. “This one's for meee.”

“Of course it is.”

He gasped, cradling the side of his face with his palm in mock excitement. “Uh oh. I have an idea. Do you want to spit in mine?”

“I hate this conversation," you sighed. "You’d probably be into that, so I’m gonna say no.”

“Well, how do you know for sure that the cool one is yours?”

You shrugged. “Because I’m cool.”

“You sure about that?” 

“And I know you like your coffee black.”

“Touché,” he said, leaning against the wall across from your bed. You both drank your coffee in silence for a few moments.

“Did you bring this from home?” you asked, pointing to the poptart. 

“No. I made that lanky muppet go buy me a box.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Wh...Wait, are you talking about Greg?”

“Yeah, I figured I would send Gumby on a little errand since I apparently can’t do that with you anymore. Since you’re—” he made air quotes with his fingers—“quitting.” 

“Wait, does he even know how to drive in the UK? How did he even get to a store? We’re miles from—” 

“I told him I would make him sleep outside if he didn’t figure out a way to score me some. I have no clue how he got all the way out into the city so fast. Can you believe that? Being tall does have its perks, I guess. His strides had him moving at the speed of light, apparently.” 

You gawked at him again, horrified. 

Poor, poor Greg.

You dropped the remaining pieces of the poptart on your plate. “I’m not hungry anymore.” 

“Oh come on, it’s funny. Don’t let his efforts be in vain.” He took a big gulp of coffee. “Anyway. I was thinking...”

“Why are you dressed like that?” you asked.

“Like what?”

“Like a fitness influencer.”

“I was getting to that. Don’t interrupt me.”

You leaned your head back and groaned. 

“Okay, drama. Calm down. We’re all supposed to go golfing this morning, but I hate golf. I'm pretty sure you do, too. You told me once. So I thought maybe we could, like. I don’t know. Pretend to go for a run like we usually do? Talk? Only if it’s not going to cut into your busy schedule, of course. Ms. Newly Unemployed.”

“Roman, what could you possibly want to talk about? If you’re going to try and convince me to stay, don’t waste your time.”

“I was thinking we could get to know each other, at least a little bit. That way, I would know what to put in your reference letter when you blow this popsicle stand.”  

“Yeah. Like you would write the letter yourself,” you mused. "Like you even could. You can't even reply to an email in a timely manner."

“Hey!”

“Fine. It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do. Like I said, I missed my flight and am feeling like a total idiot. Bet you’re really getting off on that one.” 

He stared at you for a few seconds, like he was thinking carefully about what to say next. 

“What?” you asked.

He sighed. “I’m not getting off on it as much as you might think.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“I don’t know how you perceive me exactly, but I have a general idea. And I know this might come as a shock, but like I said, I’m really not that bad. I mean, okay. I am. I am. But not in every situation, not always. I’ll have you know, I do have my moments.”

“Yeah? When?”

“Right now, maybe? Look, I brough—”

“Brought me breakfast. Yeah. I can see that.”

“Which I still haven’t gotten a proper thank you for, by the way.”

“I’ll give you a proper thank you when you give me a proper apology.”

“Fine. Okay, I’m sorry I was a little unreasonable with you yesterday. I’m sorry I, uh…manhandled you when we were getting into the car. Or tried to. Like, really, really tried.You’re pretty strong, you know that?” 

“Is that all?” you asked, cocking your head to one side.

“And I’m sorry for what I said about you and Kendall. And calling you names. I didn’t mean it. That about covers it, right?”

“And?”

“...being a dick?”

You considered not even bringing it up, but since you decided to quit your job, you simply did not care anymore.

“Aren’t you sorry that you lied to me?”

“Wait, what?” he asked, on the verge of laughter. “I didn’t lie to you. Lie to you about what?” 

Your conversation with Kendall rang loud and clear in your ears.

“It’s so good to see you. I wish you could’ve been on the flight with us, but I know you got held up. Work comes first.” 

Work comes first? What did that have to do with there not being enough seats on the jet? 

“Got held up?” 

“Yeah, Roman told us you guys were swamped.” 

“I…I mean, yeah. I’m always busy, but we flew separately because Roman told me there wasn’t enough room on the plane for us.” 

“I’m sorry. What did you just say?” 

“Yeah, he said there were some issues with the seats. A few of them needed to be repaired, so there wasn’t enough space for everyone.”

“Are you…oh my god,”  Kendall scoffed. “Oh my fucking god.”

“Ken, I don’t—”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Roman, why did we fly here separate from everybody else?”

Roman choked on his coffee, making him stop to clear his throat. “I already told you, there wasn’t enough space for our sparkling personalities on Dad's favorite plane.”

“Not enough space?”

“Yep.”

“You sure about that?”

“Look, no matter what evocative bullshit you send my way this morning, you can’t change my mind. I’ve already decided. I want to make things up to you. So, if you’re upset that I maybe told a little white lie, I’m sorry.”

“So you did lie, then?”

He eyed you sheepishly.

“Sort of. How did you figure it out?"

“I don’t get it. Of all things, why would you lie about that?” 

“I don’t know, maybe it had something to do with me not wanting to hang out with my family in a torture chamber for hours? What if we crashed? You think I wanna die surrounded by a bunch of scorpions?”

“They’re your family!”

“Unfortunately."

“If the two of us crashed together, you’d have died alongside someone that doesn’t even like you. How is that more appealing?”

"Oh, how you wound me," he said flatly. “That may be so, but you don’t annoy me. Not to mention, you only sting me if I sting you first. It’s refreshing.”

You didn’t have the mental bandwidth to analyze that one this morning.

“Alright, fine. But your apology tour isn’t quite over yet.”

“You do know I don’t have to apologize to you at all, don’t you? You’re leaving. You’re basically nothing to me.”

“And yet, here you are.” 

“What can I say? I’m just such a nice guy.”

You both stared at each other for a second before launching into hysterics.

Roman sighed as you both attempted to stop cackling. “You know this is the most you’ve smiled at me in…like, ever? Is that poptart really that good?”

“I just feel relieved is all.”

“And why is that?”

“Why do you think?” you asked. "I'm finally freeing myself from your reign of tyranny."

"Do you really hate me that much?" he asked, setting down his mug. “We have fun sometimes, don't we? I mean, we got into a blowout argument yesterday and now we're totally fine. Even when we argue, I still don't feel like we're enemies. And believe me, I have a lot of those. Are you sure you want to leave?”

The way he was looking at you was truthfully making you a little sad. But as per usual, he wasn't thinking logically. You were practically attached at the hip every day. Of course there was some level of familiarity between the two of you, even amidst all the chaos. It was easy to mistake for friendship, given how often you were in communication, given how much you did for him. But that was your job.

You had to stop yourself from smiling.

Not anymore, it wasn't.

“Roman, the way we communicate is super dysfunctional. You’ve made me cry multiple times. Yes, I’m sure I want to leave.”

“Ugh," he groaned. "Okay. Look, as far as I'm concerned, you're king shit of fuck mountain right now."

"Excuse me, what?" you laughed.

"What you say goes. Pick a number, I'll increase your salary. Lay out some ground rules. I'm not the most ethically sound person in the world, but I do know how to compromise when it comes to doing what's best for business. And you're probably the only person who can tolerate me, so."

"Roman, I don't think I can come back from yesterday. That was way, way too much. But it's not just you. Last nigh—"

"I was wrong," he interrupted you. "I usually am. Shocker. But here's the thing: you're kind of like...invaluable, to me?" It came out as more of a reluctant question than a statement. His voice was shaky and small as he continued on. "You've, um...helped me a lot. In more ways than one. And I don't want you quitting and just going to work for Kendall again, because I don't really trust him."

"Roman, I can assure you that is not something you will ever have to worry about. Last nigh—"

"Just don't go, please."

You would've been more annoyed with him constantly interrupting you if his voice didn't sound so pitiful, if he didn't look so pitiful. You were caught off guard by the groveling. Not necessarily put off by it, but certainly surprised. This was possibly the most vulnerable you had ever seen him. And the whole breakfast thing; since when did Roman go out of his way to do something deliberately nice for you? It was very obviously to serve his own purposes. He didn't want you to quit, but it didn't seem to come from a bad place.

You had observed him for a second too long, it seemed. He cleared his throat and quickly regained his composure. Just like his kindness, Roman's willingness to be vulnerable also had a very short shelf life.

"If you expect another apology, you can fuck off. And I know you do expect one. But don't actually fuck off, you know what I mean? Out of everybody here, I want you to fuck off the least."

"Wow," you said flatly. "That's amazing."

"I know. I can't believe it, either."

☽ 

kendall 👀👀

@pearlstiare // @ay0nha // @theladyalicnt // @littleladdty @spacebaby1