#like its one thing to be told that online but right to my face where im looking professional and Not Terminally Online is a whole new thing

[todayisafridaynight]

having my Art Specialty be described as 'daddies' is technically not wrong but also its very hard to not scream when being told so to my face in the dorm lobby regardless. like im just supposed to accept that description with a smile and nod as if i dont know we aren't thinking of the same kind of daddy

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x DC AU: Danny didn't want to rely on his rogues, but Tucker's computer skills only got them so far and if the media black out continues... Danny knows it's not going to be pretty for them. Nightmares begin to plague the Justice League.

---

Danny gets back from a shitty conversation with Clockwork and in his frustration, accidentally sets off one of the new GIW sensors that his parents allowed to be installed in the lab. Their collaboration seemed to be going no where but when Danny had new holes blasted through him... it must be going somewhere. Damn it.

The commotion is loud enough that Jazz hears it from her room above the lab (he knows she listens to more than just the lab... it's cause she cares, even if it is a bit invasive.) and rushes in to play the distraction while Danny gets away. This time it works- the Drs. Fenton might have the worst aim in the city but they demand all shots cease if a civilian is nearby- Next time his mom might be aiming her gun at him and not the ground. Danny decides he'll buy Jazz a coffee on his way home.

But first, new holes. Yikes. That like, needs medical attention- He heads to Tucker's place and he's pretty sure Sam is already there.

"Danny! What the fuck, did Clockwork-" She starts, her meticulous cat eyeliner making her glare all the deeper.

"Nah, it's the stupid GIW sensor, the stupid one I told you guys about that has a spring lose in the back?"

"I thought we decided those weren't a concern?" Tucker looks him over, face covered in undisguised and very blatant concern.

"Yeah well, Clocky pissed me off so I forgot about them when I came back in through the lab portal-"

"you were supposed to be practicing making your own." Sam interrupts.

"-And when I did, the thing got knocked and I was swatted like immediately. Jazz launched herself into the lab so Mom made them stop shooting and it gave me enough time to get out." Danny continued to explain, ignoring his friend's 'i told you so' faces.

"Dude. We're pushing it close this week. Sam already had a confrontation with the lab guys and I already got blacklisted on my new persona accounts. We're like seriously threading the needle for getting caught." Tucker, pulls his glasses down to pinch the bridge of his nose and Danny and Sam both get what he's really saying. They need to lie low.

"What did CW say to piss you off?" Sam asks after a silent moment.

"He said nothing really, just like he always does, but insinuated I should try getting a rogue to help." Danny sighs.

"What, Like getting Ember to announce the GIW invasion on her tour? We already agreed that-" Sam is getting angry as she speaks so Tuck cuts her off- "It's a bad Idea. She is- They are all just as likely to get captured and hurt as you are if you go out of town." He comes to the same conclusion they've agreed on for weeks. No rogue involvement.

"Maybe we just need to sleep on it... Hey... wait." Danny sighs, but then his gears start to turn.

"Nocturn. We need Nocturn to help us. He can get the message out through dreams." Danny comes to the new conclusion and his friends look hesitant but at least like they're considering it.

"Isn't he an ancient? He's not going to help us for free." Tucker, ever the Egyptian god in these moments.

"Most people don't take their dreams literally." Sam, ever the skeptic in these moments.

"Yeah but, if they dream it enough times, and they're the right people to do something... they can look it up and then at least see that there is a problem?" Danny sounds hopeful and its the first time he's sounded that way in months.

"What, you're gunna give Batman nightmares?" Tucker snickers but Sam looks inspired.

"That's exactly what he's going to do. We need to haunt the Justice League. They'll see past the fake facade the GIW put up online and they'll be able to get the right legislation passed." Sam is practically buzzing.

"Okay, so lets get scheming- What do you get the primordial beast of the unconscious? Should I google 'what to get someone who has everything'? " Danny laughs.

_____

Bruce and his children rarely do feelings when they have breakfast in the morning after a night of separate patrols, but it seems as though the room is plagued with unease. Tim looks about as tired as ever, so his unease is probably attributable to WE board meetings, but its unlike the rest of his children to be so... disturbed. For some reason, after Alfred has excused them all from eating more than a few nibbles, they make it to the cave. Bruce is glad for the noise his children bring.

The nightmare's he's been having are following a dark plot. A town, a boy who looks like he was kin, and so, so much death. Bruce has had vivid dreams before in life, but this nightmare is... unreal. He tries to remind himself that it's just a nightmare.

When his JL emergency communicator goes off at the computer desk, he's not expecting it to be Dinah Lance. She and her Birds are typically wary of him in Gotham, even if they work well together in the League. He answers it like he would any Batman call, with silence.

"Bats, we have a problem. Any chance you've been having weird dreams about a kid getting experimented on or a town being burned down? Ghosts? Lazarus portals?" Dinah sounds exhausted, but Bruce snaps to her voice with rapt attention. As do all of his children.

"I-" Bruce takes a look around the room, everyone's heads except for Tim's nodding up and down with distress," We all have."

"Something tells me that they whole JL is. Everyone I've talked to this week has had a variation of the same dream. We either have a telepath trying to tell us something, or something even worse than that."

"I'll call emergency meeting, we need to collect details and try to determine the complete message."

"I'll send you what I've noted down so far, sans personal details of course, it's definitely in a town called Amity Park though. My client this morning saw the sign."

Batman grunts and the call ends. It's time to get to work.

----

When the Justice League finally arrives, the town is glowing, and everything feels like... sleep. smothering. snoring. smoking. smoldering.

And then, despite the exhaustion that echos within them, the trudge onwards. The noise of laser guns certainly wakes them up a bit.

[jewishvitya]

hi riki! this is a bizarre question ngl, but im wondering if you could please tell me about why you are anti-Zionist? Since i have FRESHLY (last month!! Woohoo!!) become bat mitzvah, and I’m not going to beit Sefer every week now, I’m starting to realize that what I was told about Israel and zionism miiiight be innacurate. Please feel free not to, but I would personally feel more comfortable hearing about Antizionism from somebody who is for sure not hiding any antisemitic biases. Thanks and I hope it’s not a bother!

Mazal tov!

I was debating if I should reply to this and how. You're only one year older than my son and I never considered talking about this with a kid other than my own children. But if you're online reading and looking up information about this, I'll just answer the way I would for anyone. Like I said, I don't mind explaining. But I don't have the energy to collect sources for you. I'll do that later if you'd like. For now it'll be a bit of a rant.

Basically, if you ask different people what zionism is, you'll get different answers. Some people say that zionism is just the acknowledgement of our connection to this land. That's not what I'm going against. I'm not denying that this is our ancestral homeland. I've never known a different home, I grew up near Hebron. Our history means everything to me. So maybe you could create some definition of zionism that I wouldn't be against. But then I'll be against the use of the word because in practice, politically, the movement has been colonialist. And that reality is more important to me. So when I say I'm antizionist, I'm not talking about whatever pretty idea someone might have, I'm talking about things that to me are very concrete.

Zionism uses whatever political terminology is useful to it at the time. Currently, it tries to paint itself as a sort of landback movement, placing us as the indigenous population of this land. This is a distraction. If you mean "indigenous" as "this is where we originated" - both us and Palestinians are indigenous, which makes this term pointless to this situation. If you mean "indigenous" as "a local population facing colonization" - they're indigenous and we're the colonizers. That's the more politically useful distinction.

And the thing is, zionists knew they were colonizers. Ben Gurion was welcomed by the local population and expressed hope that they're nomadic and could be persuaded to leave. Ze'ev Jabotinsky argued that no land has been colonized with the consent of its natives, so we should just take what we want like other occupying forces did. They knew what they were doing. At the time, there wasn't the broad political pushback against colonialism that you see today, so they didn't really hide it. They saw themselves as the colonizing force and the Palestinians as the natives and this distinction had them placing themselves above the Palestinians.

When I was in school, I was made to believe that Palestine was never truly a country and the population here was never a cohesive nation. You might see questions like "Who were the Palestinian prime ministers and presidents? What was the Palestinian coin? What Palestinian wars were there before the creation of Israel?"

These questions tell you nothing other than the fact that Palestine has been under foreign occupation for a very long time. They try to lead you to believe that Palestine and the Palestinian identity are fictional constructs designed to deny us our place in this land.

But Palestinians have their own dialect of Arabic. They have their own varieties of Middle Eastern foods. They have their own clothing, their own embroidery patterns, their own dances. They have a very rich culture that wasn't just made up from nothing within the last century. I still have to battle against cognitive dissonance every time I find something of the sort, because Palestinian culture goes against everything I was taught.

The truth is, the British had no right to occupy Palestine, and they had no right to offer it to us. If we pretend there was no population that was wronged when we took Israel, we can be "the good guys" with Palestinians being a sinister plot to ruin us. This turns normal families, normal people, into a conspiracy made to hurt us. We're not fighting a military force - every Palestinian person is a threat to our legitimacy. Israelis don't even really use the term "Palestinians" - they're just Arabs, their individual identity is stripped from them. We pretend that they belong to other countries around us.

Israeli propaganda will tell you that we only ever act in self defense. It's in the name of our military, it's called a defense force. Israel boasts that it has the only ethical military in the world. The only defensive one. But like I said, we define threats very broadly. And we whitewash a lot of history. I was taught in school all our fighting was defensive - and then I spoke to an elderly man and he said "of course we killed whole villages, it was war, that's what you do." Only as an adult I found out about things like the Sabra and Shatila massacre and our involvement in it.

For the existence of Israel as an ethnostate, every Palestinian is a threat. A lot of people are all in favor of Israel, but against the government actions of ethnic cleansing. The truth is, the ethnostate is not sustainable without the ethnic cleansing. You can't accept one and expect it not to lead to the other. An ethnostate is never a justified goal, and that's always been the goal of zionism as a practical movement.

And I know why this exists. We've had two millennia of persecution. Antisemitism is one of the oldest forms of bigotry. And we just experienced an attempt to industrially exterminate us, we lost millions, including from my own family. We want shelter and safety and the ability to defend ourselves. I just can't see that as justification for what we did and continue to do.

You can look up our human rights abuses, but personally, there were moments that hit me. When I saw a whole warehouse of mail intended to reach Gaza, mail that's been kept from them for years, including items like wheelchairs, in such bad conditions that some envelopes got moldy. I still think of the people who spent all that money to get a wheelchair and were prevented mobility because we decided to hold their mail.

I watched the biggest apartment building in Gaza collapse under our bombs and I cried thinking about the people inside, and about the potential survivors and everything they lost.

I watched our people beat up the pallbearers at the funeral of Shireen Abu-Akleh, a Palestinian reporter. They almost dropped the casket from all those beatings. They were no threat. They just carried her. There was no reason to hurt them.

On the news, after Shireen Abu-Akleh died, the description of the Palestinian response to her death was that they're "חוגגים על המוות." The literal translation is that they're celebrating over the death, but that's not what it means. The meaning is that they're exaggerating their pain and their grief. They're acting, pretending, milking the injustice of it for show. And that's a common Israeli narrative, that Palestinians make a big deal out of things and pretend to suffer more just to make us look bad. We've dehumanized them to the point where we don't believe their grief.

And before all of this, growing up, I saw what the "us vs them" mentality caused in children. I grew up in Kiryat Arba and the population there is very strongly zionist. It's a settlement. It's largely Dati Leumi (national religious? I'm not sure how to translate, dati means religious and leumi means national). Over there I saw children as young as six cheerfully talk about joining the military and killing Arabs. I saw a kid throwing chocolate past the electric fence separating us from them, and laughing when a small Palestinian child went looking for that chocolate, calling her a pig. I saw my high school classmates questioning if they should help the family of a six-months-old baby, first demanding to know if the sick infant is Arab.

The Israeli left has a bit of a slogan. הכיבוש משחית. The occupation corrupts. It means that being an oppressive force changes what we are. It ruins us. And I truly believe that. It taints so much about us and our culture, about our compassion and our ability to have solidarity with other humans. Many principles that kept us safe in diaspora are used now to harm gentiles living under our control, and Palestinians suffer most of all.

So these are the reasons I'm antizionist. I hate what we do to Palestinians. I hate what it does to us. And more fundamentally, I'm against colonialism.

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Han Jisung x F!Reader TW : anonymous friends to lovers type beat ; physical fighting ; reader is bullied ; angst ; fluffy ending ; Word Count : 8.9k A/N : Haven't even started writing this one yet but I know it's gonna take a bit, I hope the wait is worth it!! I hope that this is good! I kind of changed things a little bit, but I feel like it's still good... right? It has a k-drama feel to it... Not proof read!! Request : Anonny : Hello! If your requests are open can you write something for skz han? Where han is a popular person that everyone likes and he doesn't know the identity of reader but they are able to have really nice conversations. He thinks he found the person he's been talking to and starts dating them and reader agrees to help the person with talking to him. But han actually starts talking to reader and realizes that they were the person he fell in love with. Reader didn't tell him their true identity bc they were told he could never love someone like them. I hope that makes sense.

An anonymous chat room… What could possibly go wrong? It had started as a way for other students to get help with certain subjects without the judgment of their peers over not knowing enough. Soon enough, like most things, it had completely lost its original reason for being made, and now it was being used for anything but studying. There were chat rooms for dissing people, chat rooms for hooking up, and then there was the more… safe chat rooms, for people that were just lonely and wanting to talk, people that were too awkward or shy to have conversations face to face. Everyone had an online identity that no one else knew about… A different persona… It was scary… But sometimes it was nice to just… Talk to someone. 

JiHizzy : Hey! You online? 

Your phone vibrated with the message, and you couldn’t help but smile at the familiar sound of the notification. You had been talking to him for weeks now, and it was the one part of your day that you truly looked forward to. 

JustAnotherGirl : Yeah! What’s up?

JiHizzy : Finally got back to my dorm. I was trying to study for finals…

JustAnotherGirl : I’m gonna guess that didn’t work out for you? 

JiHizzy : Crazily enough, I ended up at the bar instead of the library. 

JustAnotherGirl : I don’t know how you could possibly get the two confused lol

JiHizzy : It’s a friday night, I don’t think anyone was at the library. Weren’t you at the bar too? It was packed. 

JustAnotherGirl : Mm… Nope! I don’t really party like that, I was too busy studying for my finals. 

JiHizzy : Ooh, the innocent type? I like that.

JustAnotherGirl : Are you flirting with me? 

JiHizzy : I might be… You know the acronym of your username is jag… all you need is I and you’d be jagi to me. 

JustAnotherGirl : That must be the alcohol talking…

JiHizzy : Not at all. You’re just my type. I really want to meet you.

JustAnotherGirl : Oh, would you look at the time? We should get some sleep! Goodnight! 

While it was supposed to stay an anonymous chat room, some people were just too popular to stay hidden longer than the first week. One of those people was JiHizzy, better known as Han Jisung, the most popular guy on campus simply because of his looks. All of the girls wanted him, and all of the guys wanted to be him. He was the top of the totem pole, and that put you at the very bottom. 

If the two of you were to walk past each other on campus, he wouldn’t even spare you a passing glance… But with the promise of anonymity, you were able to talk to him every night. You were able to know what it felt like to be liked by someone like him. You could never meet him though, if he found out who you really were… He’d stop talking to you immediately. You didn’t want to lose him… Even if you didn’t truly have him. 

///

JiHizzy : Are you in class right now? 

In the silence of the classroom, the vibration of your phone was much louder than you thought it would be. Everyone turned to look in your direction, and you quickly grabbed your phone and placed it on your lap, hoping that if another message came in, it would be silent. 

JiHizzy : I know you are, you’re such a good girl… WAIT DOES THAT SOUND WEIRD!? I’M SORRY!! 

JiHizzy : I was just thinking that maybe… Maybe you could tell me what class you’re in…

JiHizzy : And I could get a glimpse of you… Or who I think is you… I just want to have a face to go with the name…

You held in your sigh as you felt your phone vibrate incessantly against your lap, chewing on your bottom lip as you attempted to focus on your studies, but it seemed like he wouldn’t let up unless you responded. 

JiHizzy : PLEASE!! 

JustAnotherGirl : Why is it so important? I like being anonymous… I like talking to you…

JiHizzy : Because I like you, and I can’t stop thinking about you, and I want to daydream about you…

JiHizzy : But it’s kind of hard to daydream about someone if I don’t know what they look like.

JustAnotherGirl : Well, daydream about what you think I look like. It’s probably better than how I really look anyway. 

JiHizzy : You’re talking like I’ll stop messaging you or stop liking you if I meet you…

JiHizzy : You don’t think I’m that kind of person… Do you? 

JustAnotherGirl : I don’t know who you are… But it’s just easier like this for me… 

JiHizzy : Alright alright

JiHizzy : I’m sorry if I upset you…

JiHizzy : But hey! I heard that they’re releasing an update soon where we can actually talk to each other on the phone!

JustAnotherGirl : Can’t people tell who other people are by their voice? 

JiHizzy : Idk… But I want to call you when it comes out. Can we at least do that?

JustAnotherGirl : Maybe… I’ll think about it… I have to study now. So do you! 

JiHizzy : Right! Okay, I’ll message you later! 

He daydreamed about you… He thought about you… You wondered what this image looked like, the girl that he thought you were. You were sure that it looked nothing like you, and it was better that way. He was so popular, you didn’t want to tarnish his image if he was even seen talking with you, let alone walking beside you… although you were sure that something like that would never happen. 

///

When the call feature was released, everyone was so excited. People were testing it out as soon as their apps updated… But you were dreading it. Texting guaranteed staying anonymous, but hearing someone's voice, even if they didn’t know what you looked like, a voice was a way to identify someone. Even Jisungs voice, anyone and everyone could tell it was him coming if they heard him talking. His voice was distinct, it was his and his only. You didn’t know how distinct your voice would be, and the only thing you had going for you was the fact that you didn’t talk much at all. 

A time that you’d usually be counting down to now had your stomach twisted up into knots, your knees folded up against your chest as you tried to think of anything but the inevitable phone call that you knew he would ask for. “What’s got you all worked up?” Your roommate asked as she walked into your room. As if things couldn’t get any worse, she just had to be back in at a normal hour. 

Of course you had gotten paired up to dorm with the most popular girl on campus, it was just another way of lifes mysterious twists and turns supposedly. She was absolutely ruthless, and while you had asked to have your room changed at the beginning of every semester, it miraculously could never be done. As if college wasn’t hard enough, having to reside with her was just added stress. 

“Fine. Ignore me. I didn’t want to talk to you anyway.” She mumbled, dropping down onto the ridiculously large and disgustingly luxurious bed that took up almost the entirety of her half of the room. She was rich, of course she was, and she took every opportunity to flaunt her wealth to everyone on campus, and you were no exception, you just got the brunt of it. 

“I’m gonna take a shower real quick… Do you have to use the bathroom before I get in?” You asked, keeping your head down so she didn’t look at you like the peasant that you knew she thought you were. She scoffed loudly, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw her flick her wrist in the direction of the bathroom. 

JiHizzy : You awake? Don’t tell me you’re sleeping already! 

JiHizzy : You haven’t been online in 3 hours! Come onnnnn!

JiHizzy : Are you ignoring me?!?!?! :( 

JiHizzy : Did I do something… Say something wrong? 

JiHizzy : Ahhh… Maybe you are sleeping… Okay 

JiHizzy : Goodnight! Sleep well!!

You never took your phone into the bathroom with you, not just because it seemed unsanitary or unhygienic, you also couldn’t afford to potentially drop it on the tile floor and bust the screen. Maybe you should have, but again, you didn’t think that your roommate would go through your phone. You were pretty sure that she wouldn’t even touch something that belonged to you. You had never been more wrong. 

The vibrating of your phone had caught her attention, and maybe if it had only gone off once she would have ignored it, but Jisung was a spam texter. “Hmm…” She hummed to herself as she snatched your phone off the nightstand, and her curiosity quickly turned to annoyance when she saw just who had been texting you. “No way… There’s no way!” She shrieked, glaring at your phone. 

As the story goes, the popular guy should automatically be with the popular girl… that’s how it always goes! She wouldn’t allow something like this to happen… It just couldn’t. She was being a good person, she had to look out for Jisungs reputation, that’s what it was. Luckily everything was anonymous, you were anonymous… He wouldn’t have to be embarrassed to like you… He wouldn’t even have to know it was you. 

“What are you doing?” She was still holding your phone as you walked out of the bathroom, and your stomach dropped as you thought about what she could have been doing to your phone. Why would she even have it. “Look… I don’t touch your stuff, please don’t touch mine.” You mumbled as you scurried over to grab your phone out of her hand. 

“Jesus, don’t have a tantrum.” She muttered, rolling her eyes as she turned her attention back to her own phone. “Maybe you should silence your notifications before leaving your phone unattended.” Her words only worried you more, prompting you to check what she could have been talking about, and you could feel the anxiousness creeping up further and further until it had taken you over completely. 

She had seen the notifications, and you’d be a fool to think that she didn’t know exactly who it was that was messaging you. Would she tell him? It would be absolutely humiliating, it would destroy you, you couldn’t imagine the way he and his friends would react to finding out that it was you who he had been talking to. Should you tell her not to say anything? “I…” No… It might make her say something. Maybe she’ll forget about it in the morning. That would be the best case scenario. 

“I think Han Jisung and I would be the perfect couple, right? I mean, we’re both popular, we’re both insanely attractive! That’s why I feel so bad for him, you know? It’s not like he’d willingly go for a complete loser, but this stupid anonymous app is really getting his hopes up.” You were right there, she knew exactly what she was doing, but she still had the audacity to look over at you with the fakest smile. “Were you saying something?” 

“N-No…” You stammered, pushing yourself up off your bed and heading to the door. “I’m gonna take a walk, I’ll be back later…” She didn’t say anything to you as you left, simply laughing along with the multitudes of friends that she had on call. Had she told them? Were they all laughing at you? Of course they were, she was right… Why would he want to be with someone like you? You were a nobody, a speck of dust, no… Not even that. People notice dust… you were less than that. 

But why didn’t you deserve to be happy, even if that meant staying behind the safety and security of your phone screen and a basic username? Were you not allowed to have anything? Not even some sort of happiness brought by anonymous interaction? Isn’t that how everything on the internet is nowadays anyway? No one really knows each other… So why is it such a big deal if you talk to him? Why should you be shamed for doing it the way you have been? Could you not even have this one thing? 

Being outside was like a breath of fresh air, at least for a moment, but those thoughts brought on by the words of your roommate were suffocating. Should you even respond to him? He thought you were sleeping already… you could tell him you had been busy… His messages have the ability to help you feel better in an instant, and you needed that now. You clicked on the notification and quickly typed in your password to open the app, and not even a second passed before your phone was vibrating in your hand. 

JiHizzy : Hey! There you are! 

JustAnotherGirl : Hm… Were you just sitting and waiting for me to come online?

JiHizzy : and what if I was?? 

JiHizzy : you know I can’t sleep without talking to you first. 

JustAnotherGirl : I didn’t know that though…

JiHizzy : well now you know! :D 

JiHizzy : so… the call feature came out! I want to call you! Can I?

JustAnotherGirl : uhm… I don’t know… 

JiHizzy : are you in your room? Is your roommate sleeping? I can talk quiet!

JustAnotherGirl : no… no it’s not that…

JiHizzy : I want to hear your voice… please? We can talk about anything! Anything you want! 

JustAnotherGirl : I guess… 

In a second your phone was buzzing, Jisungs screen name front and center on your screen. What a foolish feature this is, why not just give people your phone number if you’ll just talk on the phone? What’s next? Video calling? What if…? You would never do that… You couldn’t… He wouldn’t want to see you anyway. 

Your hands shook as you accepted the call and brought your phone up to your ear. “Hehe, hey! Took you a bit to answer, I thought you’d just ignore me!” His voice came with a face, one that you could perfectly envision in your mind. His smile, the creasing of his eyes as he probably laid back against his pillow, one arm tucked under his head, perfectly at ease with everything. He was so lucky and he probably didn’t even realize it. 

“Oh… uh… no. I was just… trying to find somewhere to sit.” You lied, looking around at the line of streetlamps that illuminated the sidewalks that led to different buildings. “H-Hi…” You stammered, and you knew exactly why you were flustered, why you were so nervous. Jisung was practically a GOD here, and you might as well have been an earthworm with how much lower you were than him. If anyone found out about this, you were sure that the both of you would be humiliated, but for vastly different reasons. 

“You don’t have a couch or a bed or anything in your dorm?” He asked, and you felt stupid, this whole thing just felt insanely stupid. So what if you didn’t have a couch or a bed in your dorm anyway, not everyone was made of money! What was he going to do, judge you for it? “Well… Look, if you need help or anything… I-” 

“I don’t need help.” You stated quickly, and you truly didn’t. Sure, you didn’t have a couch or a flat screen television in your dorm, but you had a bed, and that was more than what most people had, so you had no reason to complain. “I’m actually-” A particularly loud gust of wind whipped around you, the force so strong that you could almost hear it crackling in your speaker, and it whipped up freshly fallen leaves around you. 

“Are you outside?” There was a slight panic in his voice, although you weren’t sure why. It’s not like you hadn’t braved elements far more atrocious than wind before. But then again, he didn’t exactly know you well. With the image he had in his mind of you, he probably thought you were too pretty, too perfect to be outside in the wind, potentially getting your hair messed up. “Did you go outside just to talk to me? I-If I knew you were going to do that, I would have just said to wait until a different day to call. I don’t want you to get ill.” 

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth. Was he always this caring, or was he just pretending? Only the people closest to him would know, and you weren’t close to him at all. Surely to be as popular as he was, he’d have to be some kind of an asshole… That’s how the movies and the shows always depict the popular guys. They were too good for people like you… But… He didn’t know you were a person… A person like you. “It’s fine, really. I’ve walked home in thunderstorms before… A little gust of wind isn’t going to take me out.” 

There was a sigh from his end of the call, and then the rustling of what sounded like sheets or blankets. “Well tell me where you are. You’re already out, and I wouldn’t mind walking a bit to come see you. I really want to know you… I can get my shoes on real quick and-” You hung up the call before he was finished, your breath held in your throat, and you didn’t let it go until you were certain the call was ended. It was rude, sure, of course it was… But why was he so god damn pressed on meeting you!? Why wasn’t this good enough for him too?! 

JiHizzy : Did the call cut out? Was it the wind?? Are you okay!?

JiHizzy : If you don’t answer me, I’ll… I don’t know… I’m not a computer wizard but…

JiHizzy : I know people can trace things and… Please tell me you’re okay. I’m worried.

JustAnotherGirl : yeah… I’m fine… 

JustAnotherGirl : my phone battery is dying… 

JiHizzy : Oh! Okay! 

JiHizzy : Get inside quick, please. Charge your phone and message me in the morning… yeah?

JustAnotherGirl : yeah… 

JustAnotherGirl : Goodnight…

JiHizzy : Goodnight beautiful! 

This was getting worse, it was only going to get harder… Maybe you should cut ties with him now… It would be better that way, wouldn’t it? It wasn’t paying off to selfishly keep him, basically trapped behind your phone screen because you were scared of the embarrassment that would come along with actually meeting him. You needed to let him go…

///

Your roommate was laying in bed, a sheet mask over her face and the bedside table lamp had been dimmed. She was sleeping, at least that’s what you thought, until the door latch clicked as you shut it and she jumped up. “What were you out doing, huh?” The questions immediately started, and you shook your head, going over to your bed and yanking back the blankets. “I know that you weren’t out with… him. He would drop dead before being seen with the likes of you, ya know?” 

She snickered annoyingly, and you whipped around, your face scrunched up as you tried to keep the tears at bay. “How? How do you know that? How should I know that?! Do you know him?! Do you really know him?!” You asked, or, more like begged for her to give you the answers. You weren’t really sure why you were going to her of all people, maybe you were just desperate to hear that… that you would be good enough… Maybe not for him… But for someone. 

The loud laugh that poured from her lips was like a gut punch, and you dropped down onto your bed, absolutely humiliated, devastated, you felt like a fool. “Listen… I’m gonna do you a favor… You know, since we’re… friends…” This was bound to be an awful idea, you were sure of it, but you felt like she was going to keep talking anyway and… It was beginning to feel like you didn’t have a choice. “I think it’ll be a win for both of us… So, I’ll meet him, as you… And you get to keep talking to him at night. He’ll fall in love with me and my beautiful looks, as everyone always does, and… Well, you won’t be lonely. How does that sound?” 

It sounded terrible, it sounded awful, it was an elaborate ruse that surely no one would fall for… But… He wouldn’t ask you to meet him anymore… You’d still talk to him… She wouldn’t bother you or even have a reason to try to embarrass you on campus. You could stay hidden, it could work… It could really work. “Fine…” You mumbled, running your hands over your face, trying not to think too hard. “You… I don’t want to get involved too much with… What the two of you might do… But if he brings it up in the chat… You’ll have to… Tell me…” It was the last thing you’d ever want to know, but if this was going to work, you’d have to give him up just to have him still… It sounded crazy. You’d never have with him what she could… All you would ever be able to have are late night conversations, living out a fantasy through the tellings of your roommate and him. It would have to be good enough. 

“Oh, don’t worry… I’ll tell you everything!” She clapped her perfectly manicured nails together, and you knew there was something sinister about it, but this felt like the only way. “Get some sleep, we have a lot of planning to do tomorrow. This is going to be great!” 

///

“Where did you tell him to meet me… I mean… you?” She whispered, reading over your shoulder to try to see what the messages on your phone said. This was it… Today was the day… She’d probably tell him to delete the app since he finally met “you”. Was it worth it? Probably not… But you had been alone for the longest time before this all happened, you’d be fine with being alone after this as well. Nothing would change for you… But she would get everything she wanted… As if she didn’t have it all already. 

“The… The fountain, at the center of campus…” You mumbled. Would he really think it was you? The two of you sounded nothing alike… But would he be able to pick up on that? Probably not, he didn’t seem like the type that really cared for things like that. He was so excited that you finally agreed to meet him, the messages were flooding in and she had been right there to read all of them. 

JiHizzy : I’m on my way to the fountain now! 

JiHizzy : I can’t believe this is finally happening… We’ve been talking for almost 4 months now…

JiHizzy : Isn’t this crazy?!?! 

JiHizzy : I’m just a little nervous… I hope you don’t mind.

JustAnotherGirl : I don’t… I don’t mind at all…

Have fun… You thought to yourself as you stood at a distance, watching as Jooyi stood at the fountain, switching between sitting on the edge and standing every couple of seconds. She fumbled with the edge of her skirt, and fixed her hair, then checked her makeup. She was nothing like you… Would he be able to notice, even if you had only talked through text and occasionally on the phone? Was he able to tell your personality through little things like that? 

Then you saw him, practically sprinting towards the fountain, it was like everything was in slow motion. Did he even know who to look for? Would Jooyi fit the image of you that he created in his mind? You leaned against the light pole, your phone clutched against your chest… One message and you could ruin this all for her… But it would cost you too much, and you would have nothing to show for it, nothing to gain. People like you weren’t made for people like him, he would never stoop so low as to even look in your direction. They were made for each other… Who were you to ruin things? 

“Jisung!” You heard her voice ringing in your ears, and you looked up from the pavement to see her waving in his direction, and he paused. Did he know? You watched him closely, and you saw the smile slowly beginning to form on his face before he sprinted over to her. His arms wrapped around her waist in a tight hug, picking her up and spinning her around before setting her on the ground. It would never be you, that could never be you… You made two people happy today… It should feel good, but you felt sick, and you quickly turned away, rushing back to your dorm room. You didn’t have to be there to watch it, you’d hear all about it when she came back. 

///

JiHizzy : It was… Wow… 

JiHizzy : Finally meeting you in person! It’s amazing! 

JustAnotherGirl : Yeah! I’m so happy that I finally got to meet you! 

You sniffled softly as you looked over his messages. They wouldn’t be the same again, nothing would. He’d talk about everything that he did with “you”, and you’d just have to respond as if… as if it were truly you there. This… This deal… It wasn’t fair at all. It was just rubbing into your face everything that Jooyi got to do with him… And he was the one unknowingly telling you… She was evil… But she was a master at being just that. 

JiHizzy : Well… Do you want to talk on the phone? I mean… 

JiHizzy : We’ve already met each other and… I don’t know why… 

JiHizzy : I could ask you for your number… But I don’t want to get rid of the app.

JustAnotherGirl : oh? Why?

JiHizzy : There’s just so many memories on here…

JiHizzy : Sometimes when I’m alone or sad… I go back through our messages. You really know how to make me happy…

JustAnotherGirl : Really…?

JiHizzy : Yeah… Really. 

JiHizzy : Don’t tell anyone though! The guys would totally mock me for that.

JustAnotherGirl : I won’t… I won’t tell anyone.

Jooyi burst through the door, shopping bags lining her arms and she dropped them carelessly to the floor before falling back onto her bed, a loud, ear piercing squeal escaping her as she kicked her feet. “He’s so amazing! He’s so much cuter up close! He wants to take me on a date this weekend!!” She squealed again, and you felt disgusted. Did he want to take her on a date, or did he want to take you on a date? Was it her looks or was it your personality that he liked? 

“I’m… Really happy for you, Jooyi.” You lied through gritted teeth. You hated hearing about it, you hated hearing her in general, but hearing her talk about him as if she was the one who had put in the work over four months to get him to like her… It was unfair. You faked a yawn and rubbed your eyes, acting tired just to be able to wipe your tears without her noticing. “I’m gonna go to the library and study. I’ll see you later.” 

She was lost in her own world, but she sat up as you reached the door, your backpack slung over your shoulder and your hand on the doorknob. “Hey!” You put on a smile as you turned to face her, waiting for her to continue. “Did he message you? Did he talk about me? Hmm?” 

You felt your phone vibrate in your back pocket, you knew it was him, but you shook your head. “Haven’t heard from him… Maybe he deleted the app… I don’t know. I have to study though, I’ll let you know if he does.” She sighed softly, letting her head fall back against the mattress, she was back in dreamland. Her whole life was a dream… And yours was a nonstop nightmare. 

///

The library was practically empty when you walked in, you could hear every squeak of the floorboards as the one or two other students paced the shelves of books. You could almost hear the buzzing of the fluorescent light that hung over your head… You could hear… “Is this seat taken?” The man asked, and you looked up to see Jisung standing next to the chair that was across from you. It was strange, and you looked around at the vast amount of empty tables that filled the large building. Why would he want to sit with you? “I don’t like sitting by myself… I feel like it’s easier to study when I have someone sitting with me.” 

Could he read your mind? Pfft, no! That’s impossible. “It’s not taken…” You mumbled, trying to keep your voice low, hoping that he wouldn’t recognize it from the phone calls. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how furious Jooyi would be if she found out about this. Maybe you should just leave. You could study another night. Then your phone vibrated against the table, your heart froze, and Jisung, who had been smiling at his own phone looked up at you. 

“Heh… That’s a coincidence. I just sent a message and your phone vibrated!” He said rather cheerfully, and the way he looked at you, it was like he was expecting you to check it. There was no way in hell you’d do that though. You awkwardly giggled, shoving your phone into your backpack as you shook your head. 

“Probably an email or something… It is… Ironic though…” You whispered, lowering your head even further into the textbook that you had opened. You felt his eyes linger on you though, like they were burning through you, and you didn’t know whether to feel flustered, nervous, or both those things and everything in between. “D-Do you need something? A pencil… Or-” 

“I know you…” He said matter-of-factly, and it was like your throat closed up and your chest tightened. How did he know you? What was he talking about? He couldn’t possibly know you. “You’re the top student… You’re like, mega smart! I can see why now… Do you always study this late?” 

Relief, a sigh of relief and a deep breath. You were safe… You shouldn’t overthink too much. “Mmn…” You nodded your head once but kept it bowed, trying to focus on the words in the textbook, but it was so hard. “Thank you…” You added, wondering if maybe that was what he was waiting for. 

He chuckled softly, and then you felt the table shake as he dropped his own backpack on the table and started pulling out a bunch of notebooks. “You make it seem so easy. How do you just… Concentrate? It’s so hard for me to do.” He whined, and you looked around as his voice got higher and higher. “Oh… Sorry.” His voice dropped back down to a whisper and then he chuckled softly. 

His laugh was contagious and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him, your hand clasping over your mouth to try to muffle the noise. “It’s easy… You just have to find the fun in it.” He rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at you and you pursed your lips, trying not to laugh at his reaction. “Seriously. Here, let me show you.” 

It was supposed to be a solo study session, honestly, it was just to try to get away from your roommate long enough for her to fall asleep. You never in your wildest dreams expected this to happen. It was like a scene straight out of a k-drama, but you also knew that after these types of scenes, things got bad. But you didn’t want to think about that right now… All you could think about was the way that he laughed with you, the way he smiled at you, the way he talked to you like you were a person and not just the dirt beneath his shoes. 

“You remind me of someone.” He said nonchalantly as you both started packing up your books. You blinked a few times, your head tilting to the side as you waited for him to elaborate, but he was looking at his phone, his smile dropping slightly as he turned it off and slid it into his pocket. “Oh… It’s nothing. She must have just fallen asleep. She’s always so tired. She studies a lot… Kind of like you. Maybe you can tutor me… I’ll bring her too! That would be cool, right?” Cool… Not at all. It was the complete opposite of cool. That… That would never work.

“M-Maybe… I don’t know… I tutor a couple other people.” You came up with the lie quickly, and you hated the way his smile almost completely disappeared. Maybe you could make an exception… It’s not like he’d find out… Right? Jooyi would just have to act interested in studying. You were sure that if you told her, she’d be on board… “I’ll… I’ll see if I can schedule you in.” 

And just like that, his smile was back and he was pulling his phone out again. “Awesome! Uhm, how about we exchange phone numbers and…” He trailed off when he saw the look on your face, and you were sure that you looked quite uneasy. There was no way that would go over well with Jooyi, she’d flip shit. “How about Anonny… You know the app, right? Everyone has it!” Oh shit… That was even worse. 

“How about… We leave it up to fate.” His eyebrow arched, and you were really going out on a limb here with the excuses, but you had to protect yourself… Not just from him, but from Jooyi too. You didn’t have much to lose… But it was enough to have you terrified. “If we both manage to come to the library at the same time, if you see me here, I’ll tutor you. I usually come at night though… Just so you know.” 

You bowed your head to him as you got up, putting on your backpack and heading out, and you could hear him following behind you. “I’ll be here. Every night. I’ll study on my own too… Thank you, for helping me.” You hummed in response, pushing open the main door and you were met with a rather brisk gust of wind that had you shivering and shoving your hands into your pockets. “Are you cold? Here…” He shimmied out of his top coat, placing it over your shoulders and smiling when he saw it on you. “You can return it to me next time fate brings us together, okay? Just stay warm, and get home safe.” 

For fucks sake… 

///

JiHizzy : Hey, whatcha up to?

JiHizzy : It’s been like… 3 hours… Are you mad or something? 

JiHizzy : You must be sleeping… I just feel like somethings wrong… 

JiHizzy : Let me know when you get this message… Okay?

Your roommate was fast asleep when you finally got in, and you quickly took off Jisungs coat and slid it under your bed, safe for now at least from the prying eyes of Jooyi. As you curled up under your blankets, ready to just fall asleep, ready to let yourself drift off into a world where you didn’t have to pretend and you didn’t have to lie to the man who had sat across from you in the library when there were so many tables to choose from. The man who smiled at you and made you feel like you were the only person in the room. Then your phone vibrated once more from under your pillow. 

JiHizzy : I was studying tonight… I know how important it is to you and… I wanted to do it. JiHizzy : I met someone there, she reminded me of you a lot! 

JiHizzy : I hope these aren’t waking you up… I know you’re sleeping. 

JustAnotherGirl : I was at the library too. We must have just missed each other…

JiHizzy : NO WAY! Dammit! Well… 

JiHizzy : I was thinking that we can do study dates. Wouldn’t that be cool? 

JustAnotherGirl : It would. I really like that idea. 

JiHizzy : Awesome! Okay! 

JiHizzy : Goodnight cutie! 

Study dates… That’s how you had looked at tonight, or you were just delusional. If tonight had happened sooner… Would you have taken Jooyi up on her deal? He seemed to be just fine with you… He wasn’t embarrassed, he wasn’t ashamed to be sitting across from you and laughing with you… Would he have liked you still if he knew who you really were? 

///

“So, how was your night last night? You got home safe?” Jisung asked and you heard Jooyi giggle loudly, it was so fake, it made you sick. He was such a genuine person, and she was nothing but a stuck up little- 

“My night was wonderful! I went shopping for our date this weekend. I can’t wait for you to see the outfits I picked out!” You sank down onto the bench. Shit… You hadn’t told her… What would happen now? 

“Sh-Shopping?” He questioned, and you wanted to crawl under a rock. You wanted to hide from her and the wrath that you knew was bound to be coming your way. “I thought you were studying? You said… You said you were at the library…” 

She went silent, and even though you were outside, you could feel the tension in the air. “Did… Did I say shopping?! Oh my gosh, I meant studying! I’m a big nerd! You know me!” She laughed again, but this time there was something else… Nervousness? Irritation? Anger? She’d be looking for you. 

“You’re acting weird… Are you okay?” He asked, and she scoffed loudly. Should you spare a glance and risk meeting eyes with her? “Were you just… Lying about studying? Was it to try to… Impress me? You know you don’t have to do that.” 

“I know I don’t. I’m impressive enough!” She said loudly, it’s like she enjoyed making scenes. She was disgusting. “I have to go really quick, I forgot my big ol’ textbook back at my room. I’ll meet up with you later? We can have lunch!” 

“Y-Yeah… Sure…” Something had changed… He wasn’t buying it anymore. But you didn’t have time to worry about that. Jooyi was looking for you, and you were tired of being scared of her. You were tired of worrying about what she’d do or what she’d say about you. Jisung liked you, even if just as a friend… You had been made clear of that last night at the library. She couldn’t even make it one day… The two of you were just too different, and he had noticed. You weren’t sure what would happen next, but you weren’t going to hide away, you weren’t going to give in. You deserved to be happy… You might not have the money, you don’t have the luxuries, but you have the willpower, and you have the drive… And that was worth way more than what her money could ever buy. 

“I need to talk to you… Now.” As if like magic, she appeared in front of you. She was angry, no doubt, but there was nothing she could do to hurt you. So you got up, following her off to the side of one of the buildings, and before you could say anything the palm of her hand connected with your cheek. “You bitch! You said that you’d tell me when he messaged you! Was this your plan?! To humiliate me in front of him!” 

Now it was your turn to scoff, your turn to laugh, and while the sting in your cheek hurt, it didn’t hurt as much as knowing that you almost let him get away, you almost let him get stuck with someone like her. “I didn’t have to plan it for it to work out like this. You humiliated yourself. He isn’t your type… Deal with it.” 

“You…” She started, but it quickly turned to a scream, one filled with pure rage as she started grabbing at the pockets of your jacket. “Give me your phone! He doesn’t want you! He wants me! You’re nothing! You’re poor and you’re pathetic and you’ll never have him! Why would anyone want you!” She just… screamed… She screamed so loud, and with every attempt to grab at you, you swatted her hands away, backing up further and further until you bumped into something… or… someone. “Oh! Jisung!” She full stopped, adjusting her hair and putting on the fakest smile. 

“What are you doing?” He asked, looking between you and Jooyi. “What are you talking about?” His eyes focused on you a lot longer, as if studying you, and you felt the heat of his gaze, but it didn’t burn, it just made you feel warm, it made you feel safe. “Why do you want her phone?” 

Jooyi was stuttering over herself, unable to form a coherent sentence as her head shook violently. “She… Sh-She’s blackmailing me, Ji! She stole my username on Anonny… She’s pretending to be me so that she can get with you… So she can take you away from me!” She whined, and you couldn’t help but look disgustedly at her. She truly was the queen of scenes, stomping her feet and throwing a tantrum like a child would. How pathetic. 

“My… tutor… Is blackmailing… You?” He questioned, and her eyes widened before turning her daggers towards you. “What’s your name on Anonny? If she stole it from you… What is it?” You didn’t have to do anything, he was putting all of the pieces together for himself. You weren’t sure what would happen once the puzzle finally came together… And maybe it wouldn’t work out for you… But to see her get knocked down to size, it made it all worth it. 

“I-It… My Anonny name? You know it! You tell me what it is!” She said, and you knew why, she was trying to get him to say it… But he was smarter than that. He shook his head, letting out a disappointed chuckle, and then his attention was back on you. “Don’t! Don’t look at her! Look at me! You love me!” 

“Do I?” He whispered, but he never looked away from you, his head tilted and a small smile on his face. “What’s your Anonny username?” He asked, and you felt the heat rising inside of you. This was your chance, your moment, you didn’t know where it would lead you to, but it was time. 

“I’m… JustAnotherGirl… Just another girl that has a crush on you… That gets overlooked and forgotten. But I’m here… And I’ve been here for four months…” You murmured, and he let out a shaky gasp. Was he embarrassed? Was he ashamed that you were the girl he had been talking to for so long? “I’m sorry. I’m not popular, I’m not even close to rich. I don’t have much to give… But-” 

“But you’re perfect…” He stepped closer to you, causing you to stumble back as your breath hitched in your throat. “You’re smart, and you’re sweet… You’re kind and you’re genuine. You’re not materialistic, you’re just… You’re wonderful, you’re wonderfully you…” His hand reached up, his knuckles brushing lightly against your cheek. “You’re the girl that I fell in love with…” 

“WHAT!!?” Jooyi screeched from behind you, and before you knew it, you and Jisung were being pushed apart. “Are you serious right now?! Her?! She’s… She’s a roach! She’s vermin! I can’t believe you right now! Have you seen me?!” 

“Sadly.” Jisung retorted, and it took everything in you not to laugh, but everyone that had gathered around to see what was going on laughed enough for you. “I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t talk about my girlfriend like that.” 

“G-Girlfriend?!” Jooyi scoffed, running her hands through her hair. “You’ve got to be kidding me! Just… When you lose all your friends because you’re with a loser, don’t come crawling back to me! Have fun being not popular!” 

“I think it’s time for us to go, don’t you?” He asked, completely ignoring her now as he draped his arm over your shoulder. “You want lunch? Anything you want, it’s on me.” 

///

HanJi : I’ll be at the library soon. I’ve got hot cocoa!

Beautiful Wonderful Girlfriend : Don’t drive too fast, the snow is really coming down now… 

“I know it is…” His voice came from behind you, and then the cups of hot cocoa were placed in front of you on the table. “It’s really pretty, isn’t it?” You glanced out the window, awestruck at just how beautiful campus could look when blanketed in dazzling white snow. “You brought your coat, right?” 

You nodded your head, patting the chair beside you where the coat that he had given you almost 2 years ago was neatly hanging over the back of the seat. “It’s your coat… You just won’t let me give it back.” You teased, and he let out a soft sigh as he dropped down into his seat. He hadn’t changed a bit since the first time you both sat at this table together. 

It was strange how time worked, it felt like forever ago, but you remembered it like it had happened just yesterday. “It’s our coat, babe. What’s mine is yours.” He sounded so serious, but you couldn’t help but laugh at the statement. He was talking like the two of you were… Married? Your laughter subsided as you stared at him across the table, your lips parted slightly as you let out a quiet breath. 

“You’re funny…” You said sheepishly, turning your attention back out the window, focusing on the snowflakes that danced down from the sky, finding the perfect place to rest. “We’re not married, our things don’t have to be shared…” Even though you both had been together for two years and he was the sweetest, most loving boyfriend you had ever had… You still couldn’t get those words out of your head. The words from the past that had been uttered by the girl that had wanted to take your place… He would never want to be with someone like you…

“Yet…” He murmured, the word like a breath leaving his lips. You blinked a few times, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks, your heart thumping loudly in your chest. Did he really love you that much? Could someone really love you that much? Were you deserving of this much love, to be with someone like him? “What are you thinking about, babe?” He cooed, reaching across the table to grab your hands that were folded on top, his thumb brushing lightly across your knuckles. 

“I’m just…” You began, feeling the familiar sting of fresh tears beginning to brim in your eyes, but it was slightly different this time… They weren’t tears of sadness or fear… You were happy. “I’m so lucky… And… I never thought I’d be with someone so amazing… So perfect…” You could barely get your voice above a whisper, your throat closing up from trying to hold back your tears. 

“Mm…” He hummed, pushing away from the table and getting up, walking around to your side of the table and grabbing your hand. “Let’s take a walk… yeah?” One more glance out the window and you saw the snow creating almost a wall of white as it came down harder, but there was no wind, it was just… beautiful. “I’ll keep you warm, don’t worry.” 

You nodded your head, grabbing the coat and slipping it on, the scent of his cologne, although faded, still brought you comfort when you put it on. “Where are we going?” You quizzed, slipping your fingers between his as you both walked out of the library. You were sure that nothing would be open, not with this weather. 

“Anywhere… I just… I want to walk with you.” He said, his voice kind of shaky, like his nerves had gotten the better of him. He led you aimlessly through campus, and you followed right along beside him. You didn’t really care where you were going, as long as you were with him, you’d follow the path he was taking blindly with your hand in his. “I’ve been thinking a lot about how I’ll do it…” 

Was he talking to you or was he just thinking out loud? You looked to him, the snowflakes catching on your eyelashes as you tried to read him, but he was looking straight forward, his lips turned up into a lopsided smile. “How you’ll do what?” Even though you were speaking softly, the silence that surrounded you made every word sound so loud. 

“Propose.” He sounded so calm, but the singular word alone had you pausing, pulling him back so he would face you. “What? Can I not think about how I’m going to propose to my wonderful, beautiful, amazing, sweet, lovely-“ 

“Okay okay!” Even after 2 years, you still weren’t the best at taking compliments, especially when he was looking at you so intently. “Why are you thinking about that right now? We’re still in college and… I want you to focus on graduating. So we can both be successful. You know?” 

His hand slipped out of yours and then his arm snaked around your waist as he started walking again, pulling you along with him. “I can focus on graduating, and I can focus on you. I’ve been doing it since the day I truly met you… the real you.” He chuckled quietly, the sound building in his chest as his head shook. It was funny now, to look back on everything that happened. “And I like thinking about the future, it makes me happy to know that I’ll be spending it with you. But you don’t have to worry about me proposing in college… I wouldn’t want everyone to see. I want it to be a moment for us to remember.” You hummed softly, leaning against his shoulder as you simply listened to him, you let him get lost in his thoughts because you didn’t mind getting lost in them either. They had you looking forward to a better, simpler time where the two of you would be able to be together without worrying about grades and finals. “Flower petals will line the path that I’ll take you down…” He murmured, and your eyes were focused on his face, not noticing the trail of pink and red in the snow. “A gazebo, with fairy lights twinkling brightly, shining in your eyes…” He continued, sighing softly. “Nobody is around, the snow is falling, you look absolutely stunning against the backdrop…” 

“A winter proposal?” You asked, and you were so lost in his thoughts and your own that you hadn’t even noticed how far you had walked until he was leading you up the stairs of a white wooden gazebo, perfect icicles hanging off the roof of it, and… fairy lights illuminated the inside. “Ji…” You whispered his name, a tuft of smoke coming from your mouth as you breathed it out. His arm left your waist and he kneeled down in front of you, his cheeks a dark pink from both the cold and his nerves. “You said… You said you wouldn’t propose when we were still in college…” 

He snickered, fishing a black velvet box out of his pocket, his snow dampened hair curtaining his eyes as he kept his head down. “I meant… not while we were in the college. We’re not on the grounds anymore…” He finally looked up at you, and you let out a shaky gasp as it truly set in what he was doing. “I don’t want to wait any longer, I know that you’re the one that I want to spend all of my life with. I’ve never felt more comfortable with anyone else. I love you, I’ve known that I loved you since before I even… before I even knew you. I wake up every morning and thank everything that you’re mine, and I fall asleep every night knowing that no matter what, everything will be okay because I have you by my side. I don’t care what anyone thinks, I don’t care what people might say… I only care that you’re happy… And if you say yes, I promise… To do my best to make you feel happy and loved every single day until the day that I die.” He opened the box, and the diamond facets of the silver ring glistened and reflected the lights that had been strung up. “So… Will you… Will you marry me?” 

You choked out a sob, dropping to your knees in front of him as you nodded your head yes, and he quickly pulled the ring out of the box, his hand shaking as he slid it onto your finger. “Ji…” Was all you could say as you looked at the ring, cold, yet so beautiful in its place. His chilled hands cupped your cheeks, tilting your head so that your eyes would meet his. “I love you…” 

“And I’ll always love you.” He leaned in, kissing you softly and humming against your lips. “Shall we go back inside and warm up, my beautiful, lovely, wonderful, amazing-“ 

“Stop~” You playfully whined, giggling quietly as you dropped your gaze once more. “You’re so cheesy…” You mumbled, and then you felt his lips against your forehead, his fingers brushing your hair out of your face. 

“And you’re… You’re everything to me…” He pushed himself up to his feet, carefully pulling you up and then hugging you tightly. “Thank you, for making me happy, for loving me… I can’t wait to marry you."

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[owliellder]

hybrid!bunny!f!reader x leon kennedy?

any genre u want :)

yes!! thank you so much for throwing me a bone! i'll write a quick one just for you, lovely anon (˶‾᷄ ⁻̫ ‾᷅˵)

again, sorry for such a long wait. i got my nails done and typing has been a bit of a learning curve.

Leon Kennedy x fem Bunny Hybrid! Reader

MDNI 18+

When Leon first adopted you from the shelter, he expected to have a quiet, innocent little bunny hopping around the house. At least, that's what everything online said about bunny hybrids. You were anything but, though you were fun.

It's become an almost daily thing, him coming home to you practically begging to be fucked. He'd catch you humping the arm of the couch or his pillow, usually holding one of his shirts up to your nose. Adorable, but you knew better. You were suppose to wait for him.

At this point he was sure you were just trying to get him riled up; always trying to hide that cheeky little grin of yours whenever he'd give you a stern look, crossing your arms, pouting, even thumping your foot with a loud thud whenever he told you off. Living true to the phrase 'fucking like rabbits', Leon made sure to give you the proper punishments and treatment for starting without him.

Bent over the side of the bed, he had your face pressed into the blankets with one hand, the other keeping a tight grip on your hip as he ruthlessly thrust into you. "Naughty.. You know better." Leon breathed out, letting out a loud groan as he buried himself to the hilt inside of you and held still. He leaned over your back, grabbing the base of your long, furry ears with one hand to pull your head back.

You involuntarily gasped at the sudden tug on your ears, watery eyes peeling open to look at the man hovering over you. "I-.. I'm sor-" You were cut off by another yank, lip quivering as his dark eyes looked into yours.

"No you aren't." He chuckled lowly, brow furrowed as he loosened his grip to run his fist up the length of your ears, "You always say you are, but how many times have I had to teach you the same lesson?"

Once his hand slipped away from your ears, it quicky found its way around the front of your neck to gently grip your throat, keeping your head up. He looked down at where he connected with you, sighing with a faint smile as your cute little cotton tail wiggled against his groin. Slow, shallow thrusts is all you got now and it wasn't enough.

"Ple-ase," You choked out brokenly, small tears running down your cheeks. "more, more.. please..."

Leon clicked his tongue, only continuing with the torturous pace. "Please what? You know you won't get anything from me unless you ask the right way, bunny girl." Even though your eyes had fallen back closed, you could hear the smirk in his tone.

Despite being a bit of a brat, this man always knew how to break you. You couldn't keep up the attitude with his cock deep in your pussy like this. ".. please, daddy..." You quietly pleaded with a whine.

He knew just as well that you weren't one to hold up this bratty little act of yours, but who could blame him for having a little extra fun with you?

"Louder, princess~.." Leon's grip tightened ever so slightly on your neck, halting his thrusts once more to force it out of you.

"ghh- p-please, daddy!" That sweet little cry from you was enough to have him pounding into your sloppy cunt again, balls wetly slapping against your clit as you'd been dripping around his cock for what felt like ages now.

"Ya make this so difficult, bun.." He leaned a tad closer to whisper into one of your ears, letting go of your hip to give your ass a loud slap before it reclaimed it's previous position. "All ya have to do is be patient, and yet we do this every. Single. Night.." He punctuated each word with a rough thrust, grinning to himself as moans were practically ripped out of you.

The wet slapping of skin resounded in the room, accompanied by your ever so precious noises and Leon's own moans, grunts, and the occasional chuckle while watching your ears flop back and forth with the force of his thrusts.

Coming close to his high, he stood back upright, hand moving off your neck to push your head down against the bed again, fisting his hand into your hair so he could turn your face to the side. He didn't want to muffle your moans, hell, he wanted everyone to hear just how good he treated you nightly.

"Ya gonna be good f'me? Hm?" Leon groaned with clenched teeth, sweat breaking out and dripping down his forehead. "Gonna let me cum you? Breed that pretty bunny pussy?" Always so mean to you.

You nodded as best as you could, drool dribbling from the corner of your mouth as he pounded into you harder. "Words. Say it." He growled, nails digging into the plush skin around your hip.

"Cum-ngh~.. cum in me, daddy..." You panted, "breed me, please. Need it.."

"Yeah you do. Want daddy to give ya a whole buncha baby bunnies, huh?" Your hands weakly grasped at the blankets surrounding you, body trembling with a cry as you came around his cock. Oh how you loved when he spoke to you like that.

Feeling your walls tighten and suck him in further was enough to push him over the edge only seconds later, keeping his hands firm on you until his dick softened inside of you.

You laid limp on the bed as you tried to catch your breath, legs having given out long ago. You let out a pitiful whine from oversensitivity as you felt Leon pull out, his cock suddenly replaced by his fingers prodding around your sore entrance before two of them entered you.

"I wanna keep ya nice and full, baby bun~." Leon's hot breath tickled your fuzzy ear as he whispered into it. Not long after, his fingers were removed in favor of putting your panties back on you, making sure to slot your round tail through the small hole in them. He repositioned you on the bed so you were now laying with your head on one of the pillows and your body under the covers.

It didn't take long for you to fall asleep, drifting off with a tired smile as you felt Leon brush your hair out of the way to plant a gentle kiss to your forehead.

[spencerreidswhore187]

False Confidence

Don't take yourself so seriously / Look at you all dressed up for someone you never see.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer and Y/N hate each other, they just don't realise they have been anonymously messaging for months.

Word Count: 2.8k

T/W: Mentions of murder and death

A/N: For @sackofpissandshit . I came up for the premise of this as a plate of prawns fell onto my head at work. Enjoy! ◡̈

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

SherlockHolmes1887: You were right. 

You couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face; you replied immediately, the half-drunk coffee in your hand forgotten. 

NapoleonOfCrime: Feel free to say that again.

He did.  

Briefly, you looked up from your phone to cross the road. You were on the way to work having just received a message from Hotch. It sounded urgent. 

NapoleonOfCrime: So what made you realise that, as per usual, I was right? 

You had spent the better part of the night trying to convince him that Sherlock Holmes was in love with Jim Moriarty. You had met him online several months ago, on an Arthur Conan Doyle forum and have been messaging ever since. 

He, except for the one and only Penelope Garcia, was your best friend. You told him everything. Except for who you are. 

Early on in talking you both had agreed not to exchange names, tell each other where you lived or what you did for a career. You knew what SherlockHolmes1887 favourite film was (Star Trek), that he liked wearing mismatched socks and his mum used to call him ‘Crash’ because he would crash into things when he was younger. You knew that, like you, he had four qualifications, liked Sherlock Holmes and had an unhealthy obsession with coffee. You just didn’t know his name. 

Your phone vibrated. 

SherlockHolmes1887: “The greatest schemer of all time, the organiser of every devilry, the controlling brain of the underworld, a brain which might have made or marred the destiny of nations—that's the man! But so aloof is he from general suspicion, so immune from criticism, so admirable in his management and self-effacement, that for those very words that you have uttered he could hale you to a court and emerge with your year's pension as a solatium for his wounded character. [...] Foulmouthed doctor and slandered professor—such would be your respective roles! That's genius, Watson.”

Your phone buzzed again. You silenced it as you walked into the BAU elevator. 

SherlockHolmes1887: I reread ‘The Valley of Fear’ last night. 

You were about to reply when a voice cried out. 

“Hold the door!” 

Instinctively, you stretched your arm out between the closing elevator doors. 

The person entered beside you. 

If you had known who had asked, you would have let the doors shut. 

Dr Spencer Reid leant on his cane, drumming his fingers against its metal top as the elevator moved upwards. He had recently been shot in the leg on a case. You would never tell him but when that gun fired, you thought you were going to be sick. Your heart ached. It made you hate him even more.

“Reid,” you said, staring forward. You refused to look at him.

“L/N,” He replied. 

That was the most words you’d exchanged in days. 

When the doors finally opened again, you both headed towards the round table, where the rest of the team was waiting. 

You and Spencer were the last to arrive. 

It’s not like him to be late, you thought.  

You took a seat between Emily Prentiss and Derek Morgan - you were sat as far away from Spencer as possible.

“Now that you are all here,” Hotch began, pulling you from your thoughts, “let’s begin.” 

Penelope connected her computer to the screen; there was a picture of a body. The flesh was rotten, decayed from what was evidently years hidden away. Your eyes are wide as you saw it: a long cut, rough and jagged, stretched from neck to naval. You recognised this signature. 

“The Brooklyn Butcher,” you said, interrupting the silence. 

Hotch nodded. 

It was a case that had occurred six years ago and ended up going cold. 

Spencer recalled, “Eleven women, all under the age of twenty-five, all with red hair, went missing and then their bodies always turned up three days later with a long knife wound across their torso.” 

“The only body,” you continued, “that was never discovered was Sharon Lewis’. The first to go missing. The wife of Mitch Lewis, the prime suspect during the investigation.” 

“Why wasn’t he arrested?” Derek asked. 

Spencer answered before you could, tucking a strand of his brown hair behind his ear. Why did you want to run your hands through his hair? 

“There was no evidence. The police’s only theory was his wife was his first kill and he killed all the other victims who resembled her in an attempt to relive the thrill of the kill.”

“He had an alibi for Sharon Lewis’ disappearance,” you added. 

“Correct - they also never found her body. They couldn’t prove their theory without her body.” 

“Well,” Hotch said, “they have now.” 

“Sharon Lewis, aged twenty-four, was the first victim in the Brooklyn Butcher killings. Cause of death, blunt force trauma to the head.” 

JJ leant back in her chair and pressed her pen to her lips, “So the cut was postmortem?”

“According to the coroners.” 

“But that was not the case for the rest of the victims?”

“No,” Hotch replied. 

“Our UNSUB gained confidence in his kills.” 

Lewis was likely his first-ever kill. You wanted to message Sherlock and ask him what he thought. He was intelligent beyond belief, you were sure he would add valuable insight to this case but you couldn’t tell him. Then he would know you worked for the Behavioural Analysis Unit. You couldn’t let him know that. He couldn’t know who you were. What would he think then? When he knew you were more comfortable around dead bodies than real people.

“How was the body discovered?” Spencer asked. 

Hotch had that dark look in his eyes, the one he got when an UNSUB scared him. You hadn’t seen that look in his eyes since Haley died. 

“The body was left on an empty police vehicle parked outside a station in Brooklyn. There was a note attached to it.”

Penelope clicked a button on her laptop and the slide changed to a screwed-up piece of paper nailed to the shoulder of the body. 

Hotch read it aloud, “You have three days before I kill another. Happy hunting, the Butcher.”

He stood up from his seat, “Selene Harker was reported missing twelve hours ago. We leave for New York now - wheels up in twenty. Penelope, you’re coming with us.” 

She smiled nervously, you gave her a discreet thumbs up. 

Everyone stood up from the round table and headed towards the door, you had grabbed the handle when Hotch stopped you.

“L/N, you need to stay here.”

You froze, confused. 

He continued, “Reid has not been cleared to fly by his doctors yet and I need you to go through the old Mitch Lewis interrogation clips, find out whether he told any lies. Stay in touch.” 

With that he left the room, leaving you there with Spencer before you had a second to protest. 

You weren’t really sure how you did it, it’s an ability you’ve had since you were a kid. It’s how you were flagged by the FBI. You could tell when people lied. Everyone has a tell and, like the lie-detecter you are, you knew how to spot it. 

When you and Reid had first met, three years ago, he had told you all the statistics about lies: “Did you know,” he had said, “10% of all lies can be defined as exaggerations, though 60% of all lies are considered to be deceptive.” 

You remembered how you had nodded, anxious as it was your first day. 

“Of all liars, 70% of them claim to be willing to do it again. Every week, Americans tell 11 lies. In a study of 11,366 lies told by 632 people over 91 days, 75% of them lied between 0 or 2 times per day.”

“You know a lot,” You had laughed. 

Reid seemed kind. You liked kind people; you dealt with a lot of horrible people growing up. 

“I have an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187.” 

That was the first time you and Spencer had ever spoken and it was the last time you ever spoke like friends. 

You spun on your heels to face Spencer. 

“You leave me alone and I’ll leave you be. Understood?” 

“Understood,” Spencer said, rolling his eyes. 

“God, you are so infuriating.”

“I hate you,” he retorted. 

You noticed the way his jaw tensed. 

You grinned, “Lie.” 

Spencer groaned and left the room. Through the window, you saw him take a seat at his desk. 

Laughing, you walked into Penelope’s office and pulled up the police footage. 

You were three hours into the Mitch Lewis footage and he had told three lies. 

The first was that he did not know what happened to the other victims. Although, this could mean he had read about the case online. 

The second was more interesting. Lewis said he was at the pub when his wife disappeared. Even though there was security camera footage to confirm this, he was lying, 

The third made your head spin. He said he didn’t kill her. True. He said he didn’t know where she was. Lie. 

You paused the interrogation and contacted Hotch to tell him what you had found. He replied telling you to take a break as they searched for Mitch Lewis. 

In an attempt to distract yourself, you reached for your phone and messaged Sherlock. 

NapoleonOfCrime: Hi.

He replied almost immediately. 

SherlockHolmes1887: Hey.

NapoleonOfCrime: So you read ‘The Valley of Fear’ in one night just to try and prove me wrong? 

SherlockHolmes1887: If that’s how you want to interpret it :) 

NapoleonOfCrime: And?

SherlockHolmes1887: And…they are very much in love. It’s almost blindingly obvious. 

NapoleonOfCrime: “It has been an intellectual treat for me to see the manner in which you have grappled with this case.” The definition of enemies to lovers.

SherlockHolmes1887: Enemies to lovers? 

You don’t think you ever smiled as much as when you did with him. 

NapoleonOfCrime: It’s better you don’t ask, or else I’ll be sending you links to Moriaty x Sherlock fan fiction.

SherlockHolmes1887: What are you doing right now?

Your fingers danced along the tiny keyboard on the phone screen.

NapoleonOfCrime: Work. You? 

SherlockHolmes1887: Work. 

NapoleonOfCrime: How is it? 

It made you nervous that he didn’t reply instantly. 

NapoleonOfCrime: Don’t worry, this isn’t me trying to figure out what you do or who you are. I like the mystery. 

SherlockHolmes1887: Horrible. But it’s not really work that’s the problem. There’s a girl. 

It hurt a little to know there was a girl, of course it did, but you didn’t mind. What you cared about was how he seemed distressed. 

NapoleonOfCrime: If you want to share, I’m a good listener. 

He typed for what seemed like an eternity. 

SherlockHolmes1887: We, her and I, have worked together for years. She’s smart and funny and beautiful. So beautiful. But she hates me. I messed up when we first met, I was so nervous around her that I just ignored her. Whenever she tried to speak to me, I would walk away or just act like she wasn’t there. And, now, I am finally more confident, she can’t even be near me without glaring in my direction at least once. 

You yearned for someone to talk about you that way. No one had ever told you that you were beautiful. You didn’t need someone to tell you because you didn’t believe it, it’s just that sometimes, on the inevitable bad days, you want to feel wanted. 

NapoleonOfCrime: I’m sure if you explain it to her, she will understand - you said she’s smart. I can see why you like her. 

SherlockHolmes1887: Yeah, I fell hard. 

I fell hard. 

You recalled what Hotch had said, “Cause of death, blunt force trauma to the head.” 

You recalled how the cut was messy and hesitant whilst the rest were neat. 

 You recalled how it was done postmortem whilst the rest were the cause of death. 

You ran out of Penelope’s office, straight to Dr Spencer Reid. 

“Spence,” you shouted.

You were both alone in the room. 

Spencer looked up from his phone. It was strange, to see him on a phone. You had always thought he was the type of person to hate technology. Instead, he seemed thoroughly invested in whatever was on his screen. 

“Who are you messaging?” You asked, acting causal.

“No one,” he said.

Lie.

“A girl?”

“No.” 

Lie.

Spencer’s face had gone bright red. It was cute; it made you smile. 

Why did it make you smile? 

You decided to change the topic before your face went red. 

“Do you have the coroner’s report?” You questioned. 

He dug through the many files covering his desk and held it up for you to see. 

Blunt force to the frontal lobe, that confirmed your suspicions. 

You stared into Spencer’s brown eyes.

“I know what happened to Sharon Lewis.” 

You explained how it must have happened. Sharon was reported missing by her friend at 19:37. She was supposed to be meeting her a 18:00. Mitch Lewis was at a bar from 17:30-20:01, this was confirmed by camera footage. This means that Lewis can’t have kidnapped his wife. Or, perhaps, she never went missing. She tripped getting ready to see her friend and fell down the staircase. She would have died upon impact.

Spencer nodded in agreement with your theory.

“When Lewis got home and saw his wife’s body sprawled out at the base of the stairs, he saw an opportunity…” 

“He dragged her downstairs to the basement, explaining the deep scratches on her back noted in the coroner’s report.” You said, “Lewis worked in construction, he had a table and tools down there, he said so in one of his interrogations. He placed her on that table and cut her. He butchered her. And then did the same to others to try and recreate the high of killing his wife.” 

“We need to call Hotch.” 

Four hours later and Mitch Lewis had confessed and was in police custody.

Derek and Emily had found Selene Harker chained to the very same table Lewis had carved his wife like a cold slab of meat. 

The team was on their way back from Quantico.

You found Spencer sitting on a bench outside the FBI building. Spinning the silver ring your grandmother gave you around your index finger, you sat down next to him. 

You both stared forward, at the road. 

You were glad that you weren’t the only one who was affected by cases like this. You were glad that you weren’t the only one overwhelmed by empathy. Your mother once told you that empathy without boundaries was self-destruction but you were just glad that after so much time in this field, you still felt something. 

Spencer eventually broke the silence. 

“It scares me, Y/N, how easy a life can end.” 

Spencer clutched his cane so tightly that his knuckles went white. 

Gently, you eased one of his hands off it and held it in yours. 

You could hear your blood rushing in your ears. It was deafening. 

“You know, when I was a kid, I was always tripping over things. I walked into doors, tables, you name it. My mum would call me ‘Crash.’”

He laughed dryly whilst your world began to crumble around you. 

You dropped Spencer’s hand. 

“Sh-she called you what?” 

Spencer turned to look at you, confusion and worry were etched across his face, “Y/N? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” 

It’s not that you were upset, in fact, you felt almost the opposite of that. 

Your voice was steadier than you expected when you spoke.

“He is the Napoleon of crime, Watson.”

“Y/N?”

“He is the organiser of half that is evil and of nearly all that is undetected in this great city.”

“It can’t be.” 

Spencer held his face in his hands. 

“Disappointed, Sherlock Holmes 1887?”

You said it mockingly but you were terrified of what Spencer would say. 

“No, Napoleon of Crime. Not even a little bit.”

True.

“You told me to explain how I felt to that girl so here goes. The first thing I noticed about you was your smile. I saw it from the other side of the room. And, Y/N, it was contagious. Just looking at you made me smile. You are so beautiful and so intelligent and I have wanted to tell you how desperately I liked you since the day we met.” 

He cradled your cheek with one hand. 

“And now I know that this whole time, as well as being the person I can see myself falling in love with, you are my best friend, my favourite, my person.” 

“I hate you, Spence,” you say just before you kiss him. 

Smiling against your lips, you hear him whisper, “Lie.” 

[try-set-me-on-fire]

brick BRICK please I AM ON MY KNEES i just saw the bucktommy MCD fic aldhslhdkalkabsk i know i KNOW you said you don’t have the time or purview to write it, but if you would find it within your heart to further read us into shreds in any way, shape, or form, i’d be eternally grateful

(only if you would like to, of course, and quite honestly, i’m not sure i’d be able to survive another drabble, let alone a fully fledged fic)

Alright okay I’m thinking about it too here’s a tiny thing mwah mwah

“It’s his birthday,” Buck says eventually, when the mug has stopped steaming entirely. It almost startles Eddie, the sudden sound in a quiet that felt so final. He turns off the sink, sets down the last of the dishes, joins Buck at the table. Buck’s thumb caresses up and down the side of the mug. When Eddie picks up his own, it's skin-warm. “I liked to… plan things, I like to be… organized.” A rueful smile that stops miles short of his eyes. “You’ve probably noticed at work. I’ve been told I can be a monster with a clipboard in hand.” His voice is steady enough that Eddie is pretty sure Tommy isn’t the one who ever did the telling. “And he was going to be 45 and feeling some kind of way about that so… So I, uh, had it planned already. Before- uh- b-before.”

Tommy Kinard has been dead for seven months. Eddie’s not sure he’s ever put that much forethought into anything. He enlisted after an afternoon chatting at a recruitment booth. He applied to the fire academy on impulse after he saw an ad online. “What were you…”

Buck sighs. “Camping. Up north. Rented one of those, you know, cute vintage RVs. We were going to stop a few places. Had the vacation time cleared and ready to go.” He grimaces, shrugs, his eyes wet again. “I never… canceled any of it. I probably could have got some refunds, but I just… it was too- I- I just couldn’t.” He coughs something adjacent to a laugh. “The… I picked mint green, like the toaster he- got it from his aunt, I think. Uh. For the RV. It’s probably sitting in a lot somewhere right now waiting for us.”

“Buck, I…” Eddie wants to reach out so bad his hand moves on its own accord, clumsy, catching on his mug and clattering the ceramic against the wood of the table. “If you wanted company you could have told me why, but also you- you didn’t have to come here. I-I’m sorry. I know how hard it can be to… to be around people, to talk to anybody when you’re feeling like… and special occasions just make it worse.”

Buck- laughs. A few soft snorts, through his nose, smile hitting a little closer to clear blue. “That’s the thing, Eddie. That’s the… I miss him like this every day. I wake up and- and there’s a moment before I roll over where I think- hope- what if when I turn he’ll be there smiling at me? I-I-I miss his smile so bad, I- I have pictures, t-there’s even video- our wedding- b-but- but it’s not the same-” He gasps, and his shoulders turn in again, all of him crumpling towards a center line as he covers his face with one hand, the other white knuckled around his mug. “Sorry. S-sorry.”

“No, it’s… it’s okay, Buck.” Eddie’s hand is still hovering over the table, he’d never done anything with it after his failed reach. Close the gap. Just close the gap. He doesn’t.

Buck wipes his eyes, clears his throat, straightens up again. “Sorry. It’s… it’s just a day. They’re all- they’re all going to be like this. He’s not going to be in any of them. So I just have to- I’m just going to keep going.” Another smile, still wet and wretched but genuine anyways. “Besides, I told Chris I’d be here to help. Not a promise I’m interested in breaking.”

Eddie nods, biting his tongue against the sting in his own eyes that he’s not even entirely sure the cause of. “Well, thank god. I flunked freshman bio.”

Tea sloshes over Buck’s hand with how hard his laugh rattles through him. Eddie jumps up to get a towel, and when he goes to hand it over he gets caught frozen for a moment by Buck’s amused eye contact. “Eddie.”

“Yeah?”

“I had a C+ average.”

Eddie’s not sure how they manage not to spill the rest of the mug in the outburst that follows, but it stays stubbornly upright as their laughter bounces around the kitchen cabinets, mixing together, filling the room. When Buck smiles up at him again it looks just a little easier, and Eddie thinks- he thinks he’d do a lot to make Buck’s life easy. He shakes out the towel and cleans up the tea.

[piedinthepiper]

Disease ˖ ⊹

Doctor!Jimin x fem!reader

Summary: You’ve had a sore throat for months now, good thing Doctor Jimin has a cure.

Warnings: dark content, dubcon ish, corruption, smut, mention of bullying, yandere?

Wc: 2.3 k

A/n: wrote a little something based on this request! Reader is innocent in the beginning, but throughout you will discover that she’s not innocent at all, but not in a sexual way… This is a great concept, but this is just so unserious. But I had to! It was right in front of me and I had to!

Another A/n: This is also written based on my firm belief that all doctors were pretentious nerds in high school. Because no one gets grades like that from actually having a life.

This can be read as both a pt. 1 or a pt. 2 to before: disease. They can also be read separately, you decide!

Disclaimer: This is 100% fiction. I am in no way saying that this is how any member of bts would act. Nor do I condone the actions detailed in the story. This is purely for entertainment purposes only. If any of the warnings trigger you, or you’re under 18 ¡do not read! I’m not your mother, and I don’t take any accountability for what you decide to read online!

Another disclaimer: I’m not a doctor, everything is off Google! Some technical terms might me wrong, don’t sue me! Also it’s a really stupid story, it’s pure fiction! If any doctor or medical personnel ever does this to you it’s not ok! Ok?

“Y/n y/l/n.”

Your name was heard throughout the waiting room. You smiled at the woman in scrubs, getting up from your seat to follow her. You clutched your bag to your side. Anxiously walking down the hallway.

“Dr. Park will be with you in a minute.”

She smiled as she stopped, holding the door open for you. You walked into the empty doctor’s office. She closed the door behind you, leaving you alone. You sat down in the chair, placing your purse carefully in your lap. You let out a deep breath. Being in a doctor’s office was just scary. You knew it was safe and all that. It was just something about giving a random person information about yourself that made you nervous. The sterile room that so many people had received bad news in. You were dreading the thought of you also receiving such news in that room. The possibility of not knowing if you’re terminally ill or if you just have a flu. Well, that was why you were there in the first place. The door opened, and your face turned in its direction.

“Good morning, ms. y/l/n, right?”

A sweet calming voice erupted from the man. You nodded and stood up to shake his hand. He sat down opposite of you, starting to click and type on his computer. You nervously looked down at your hands, waiting for him to talk again.

“I see you’ve had a sore throat for quite some time now. Is that the reason you’re here today?”

You looked back up at him again. He was leaning forwards on the desk on his elbows. His hands neatly put together.

“Yes, it’s like I’ve had a cold for months now. It just won’t go away.”

He nodded and typed something on his computer.

“Have you noticed any swelling in your lymph nodes?”

He asked still focused on the computer screen. You thought for a second.

“I don’t know, I haven’t checked.”

He nodded at your answer.

“Any peculiar or ugly coughs? Like slime coughs or even blood?”

“There was this one time where there were a little blood.”

He looked back at you, clearly concerned about what you told him.

“How much?”

You shook your head.

“Very little, it was more the taste of blood. Nothing visible.”

He went back to typing.

“And it was only once.”

You added, trying to make the whole situation sound a little better. It wasn’t even that bad, it was probably just because you had been coughing so much that day, your throat was so sore that a little cut appeared. But it was the reason you decided to go to the doctor in the first place.

“Ok, are you ok with me examining you a little?”

He asked calmly, his full attention back to you. You sighed but nodded. He got up from his chair and pointed to the bed looking thing with a long sheet of paper on it. You got up as well and followed him, jumping slightly to get up on it. You wiped your clammy hands on your jeans, trying your best to calm down. He put on white latex gloves and came over to you, positioning himself between your legs. You straightened your back a little.

“Look up for me.”

You did as asked and looked up at the ceiling. His gloved hands immediately went to your neck. Slightly pushing on the sides of it.

“Does this hurt?”

He asked and you nodded slightly.

“Your lymph nodes are quite swollen actually. It’s weird that you haven’t noticed.”

He said as he quickly moved to your stomach. Your back quickly straightened even more at the sudden contact.

“Just relax for me, I don’t bite.”

He jokingly said. You let out a small laugh and tried your best to relax. He put pressure on your waist.

“Does this hurt?”

He asked and looked you directly in your eyes while his hands roamed your waist. You shook your head, not trusting your voice. He stopped.

“Do you mind taking your sweater off?”

He asked calmly, looking down at where his hands were seconds ago. You panicked for a second, not knowing what to answer.

“Your sweater is quite thick, it’s purely so I can examine you correctly, ms. y/l/n.”

You nodded and started taking off your sweater.

“Of course.”

You mumbled as you pulled it over your head, leaving you in just a black bra. Goosebumps littered your skin at the sudden contact with the cold air. For a second you saw him looking at you, mouth slightly open. It made you uncomfortable, the look was not a professional one.

“Amazing.”

He said and licked his lip slightly before finding your waist again. You tried your best not to freak out at how close he was now. You felt so much more vulnerable now that you were half naked.

“Does it hurt now?”

He asked and did the same motion he did earlier. You shook your head again.

“Can you turn to the side for me?”

He almost whispered. You turned to the side, placing one leg at the floor for stability. You felt his hands slide up your back, pushing at some spots and asking if they hurt. You suddenly felt the cold touch of a stethoscope on your back.

“Breathe slowly in for me.”

You took a deep breath.

“Keep going, keep going for me, y/n.”

You breathed out once those words escaped his mouth. He didn’t say it like a doctor would. There was something behind it you couldn’t put your finger on.

“Try again.”

He uttered and you did. You managed to hold your breath.

“Good girl.”

He said as you breathed out again, making you cough.

“That cough doesn’t sound very good.”

He said as he stepped back into your view. You positioned yourself fully back on the bed.

“I’ll examine your mouth now, ok? Tell me if anything feels too uncomfortable.”

You nodded.

“Open up.”

You did as he commanded. He put two of his gloved fingers flat on your tongue.

“Wider, please.”

You opened your mouth as far as you could. He pointed a flashlight down your throat. Tears started forming in your eyes as his fingers almost choked you.

“Looks like you got some tonsils down there.”

His fingers slowly slid out of your mouth and you closed it and swallowed whatever spit had occurred during the examination. He started removing his gloves, throwing them in the nearest bin. He came back to you and placed himself close to you again. So close that it would be awkward to reach for your sweater that had fell to the floor.

“They’re not big enough to remove just yet. They might shrink if you do the right things.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to get a little bit of modesty.

“What do you recommend?”

You asked him.

“Take cough syrup and cough drops, drink as much warm beverages as possible.”

You sighed.

“But I’ve been doing that for months now, and it hasn’t helped as far as I’m concerned.”

You said and looked down, finding it hard to maintain eye contact with him that close. He hummed in understanding, stepping slightly away. You took the chance to reach for your sweater again. But his arm stopped you. You sat back up, looking at him confused.

“There is another solution. It’s a bit- well. Unorthodox.”

“What?”

You asked, willing to do whatever he told you. You didn’t want to walk around with a constant sore throat for the rest of your life.

“Do you have a partner?”

He asked. You shook your head, still confused about where he was going with this.

“That’s a shame. You see, recent research has found out that fresh and warm semen can do wonders for a sore throat.”

You swallowed feeling the saliva sting your sore throat. You knew what he was aiming at, you weren’t dumb. Or at least you didn’t think so.

“Really?”

You asked, not convinced that he was actually asking you to blow him.

“Yeah, I’m a doctor, you can trust me.”

You nodded and stepped off the bed, hearing the thin sheet of paper slightly rip. You looked him in the eyes as you sunk down to the floor. Letting your hands drag down his body.

“Woah ok. Didn’t know you were that desperate.”

His hand went to your face as you positioned yourself on you knees.

“I’m just doing this to get better, alright?”

“It’s ok, baby. I’ll help you.”

He was quick to answer, almost eager. You started working on his belt, trying to get it done as quick as possible. Maybe you were dumb, maybe he tricked you to give him a blow job. The thought definitely crossed your mind. But like he said, he was a doctor, he knew this better than you. And after months of trying everything to cure your throat, you were willing to try just one more thing.

You pulled his half hard dick out, giving it a few pumps. It was a good size, even at its half hard stage. You were about to put your lips to it, but his hand reaches your forehead.

“Haven’t you forgotten something?”

He asked with a sly grin. You looked confused at him. He clicked his tongue, hissing slightly.

“Well, I don’t offer this to every patient that comes in with a sore throat. Maybe a thank you, a little begging for my help would work?”

You mentally cursed yourself, but you were too far in to back out now. You let one of your bra straps fall down your shoulder as you looked up at him with doe like eyes. Your hand started jerking him slowly.

“Please, Dr. Park. Please let me suck your cock. You’re the only one that can help my sore throat.”

His eyes changed from slyness to horniness at your words.

“Good girl, you deserve a cure for that throat.”

You kissed his tip.

“Thank you so much, Dr. Park.”

You said before your mouth covered his tip. You started sucking on it watching his face twist in pleasure.

“That’s it.”

He whispered as you swallowed his cock. His head turned to the ceiling, as a moan escaped his lips. You started bobbing your head up and down, not wasting any time and keeping a steady rhythm. His hands reached your hair, grabbing a fistful. He didn’t force you to go deeper, he just held your hair as some sort of stability for himself.

“I always knew you were a little slut. Sucking me dry in my office with other patients waiting outside.”

He started talking dirty once the initial pleasure wave was over. Swearing in between his words.

“I’ve waited for this for so long. Fuck- Ever since I first saw you I’ve wondered what those lips looked like around my cock.”

You choked at his sudden comment, his hand in your hair stopping you from removing yourself of said cock. You started going faster instead, wanting this to stop so you didn’t have to listen to his creepy speech.

“You remember me from high school right?”

You now realised you were very very dumb, as your mind raced through your memories from high school. Park Jimin, the nerdy weirdo in science class. You would always catch him stare at you, but you couldn’t remember ever speaking to him. Well, except for when you and your friends would call him names and break his glasses. He pushed his hips forward, making you choke again.

“Of course you don’t. You were too popular. But- shit. Look at me now.”

You looked up at him with teary eyes. His hand went from your hair to your cheek, and caressed it carefully.

“I made a shit load of money to have you sucking my dick today. Shit- I have the most gorgeous girl from high school blowing me right now. Finally.”

He started moving his hips, you knew he was close.

“Fuck- you’re so fucking gorgeous.”

He moaned as you felt the warmth of his seed fill your mouth. You waited for it all, not wanting to have any of it actually hit your skin. You swallowed, before you got up again. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, giving him a deadly look.

“I remember you, you little freak. You were disgusting back then and you still are to this day.”

You erupted adjusting your bra strap back over your shoulder.

“There you are, that’s the y/n I remember. Always something mean to say.”

He said as he tucked himself back, that sly look creeping back onto his face.

“Who’s the bully now, y/n?”

You snarled at him and turned around to get your sweater from the floor. You were ready to leave and change doctors immediately. But before you could get up again you felt his body crash into yours, pushing you up against that bed thing. He bent you over it, whispering in your ear.

“You were always the meanest. And I loved it. I loved you so much. I practically worshipped you.”

His groin was pushed up against your butt. You felt his bulge growing by the second as he took a deep sniff of your hair.

“Please, let me go. I’m sorry, I’m sorry ok?!”

You practically screamed, now afraid of the boy you never thought would be able to overpower you. But that was in high school. He was a man now.

“I will let you go, y/n. I’m not like you.”

But before he did as promised he got a good grip of your tits. Letting out a satisfied moan.

“Even better than I thought they would feel.”

He whispered before stepping away from you slowly. You immediately got away from him, quickly throwing the sweater back on your body.

“Remember that I had the power today, y/n.”

You rolled your eyes and walked towards the door. You stopped, and didn’t speak before your hand was placed firmly on the handle.

“Whatever you fucking weirdo.”

You said and opened the door, not looking back. You regretted being this fucking dumb. Falling for his trick, thinking that he had good intentions. The worst part was that it didn’t even get any better.

——————————————————————————

Thank you for reading! Do you want to read more?

Masterlist

[theflashesoflove]

obstacle I

Larissa Weems x f!reader (nsfw) – series

part I :: part ll :: ao3

summary: Could you be more careless? Talking to a stranger online and sharing the most intimate moments of your days with her? The way you trusted her was almost ridiculous, but the way she talked to you made you sure that this grown woman wouldn’t even consider harming you in some way. One would think you were a fool who would regret her messages one day, one would even point a finger at you and say how perverse all of it was. Luckily, no one knew. Except for Lydia, your mistress, to whom you granted not just your body, but also your heart.

a/n: i always dreaded writing series, but this woman inspires me so much that i'm finally up for the challenge. i hope i will be consistent with my writing enough to bring this story where i want it to be. filthy, angsty and gentle. i think there will be two or three more chapters and it is also crossposted on ao3. btw i have a vague idea of what architects do so if you notice some factual mistakes let's pretend that in my silly imaginary world things work this way. the names of the chapters are lyrics from interpol's 'turn on the bright lights' album (it's brilliant, a huge recommend if you like male manipulator music like i do haha). proofread, and i hope it doesn't sound as broken as i think it does. (bracing myself) let's set this little bird free into the wild.

general warnings/tags: unhealthy online relationship, dom!larissa x sub!reader dynamics, sexting, nudes, masturbation + angst and all that stuff to come

chapter word count: 4k

Part I: you are linked to my innocence

Sitting on the balcony, you admired the sun slowly crawling up from its slumber, painting the sky with faint yellow and pink shades, warming up the cool earth. The view before you made you smile. Perhaps having trouble sleeping had its benefits – you could admire such a beautiful sunrise and feel at peace for at least the next hour, before the world would wake up and start swirling around you, overwhelming and demanding. 

Thinking of someone who was also so very demanding, you pulled out your phone and started recording the serene scenery. You tried to hold your phone still, though it was hard because of the chilly wind that made you shiver. Ending the video, you opened the messenger and sent it to a woman who made your heart sing just like the morning birds sang, greeting the sun.

You scrolled up your message history with her for a bit, smirking. What a sweet little relationship you had, one time you would send her a beautiful view out of your window, the next time – a picture of you touching yourself in the most sinful way.

Couldn’t sleep again? and What a lovely view, she replied an hour later. Not as lovely as you, though, she added after.

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

Her name was Lydia and she had just the right way with her words. She would text you, Send me a picture, and you would rush out of your meeting to the bathroom to send her a selfie. She would text you, What a beautiful shirt you are wearing, unbutton it for me, and you would spend a bit more time in the bathroom sending her picture after picture. 

You didn’t know what she looked like. She rarely sent you pictures in return, and you had only one 10 seconds long video of her touching herself. Her fingers were slender, her nails were painted a burgundy red colour, and she had those plush thighs that you wanted to squeeze with your hands. She was a woman of exquisite taste – taste in music, in foods, in lingerie.

You never asked her for more. It was entirely your choice to reveal your face on one of the first videos you sent her. She once told you, Don’t call me by my name on those videos, call me your mistress. You obliged. You always did. An impulse to ask the woman if she could reveal her face bubbled up inside your chest from time to time, but you pushed it away, never willing to make her uncomfortable. Perhaps there was something she didn’t like about herself, perhaps she wanted to be more mysterious and enticing, perhaps she just needed a bit more time – and it had been a year! Never being a selfish one, you suppressed your questions and played by her rules. 

She knew a lot about your life. You didn’t realise that you barely knew about hers. You knew that her work was stressful enough to make her speak to you in an especially dirty way in the night, urging you to send new videos for her to let off steam. You could only imagine her, spread on her bed to your sinful sound and pleas. You would tell her, i wish i could see how pleased my mistress is right now, nudging her to send you a picture in return. The woman would just answer, Don’t doubt it, I am very pleased with my darling girl, thank you and end the conversation until the next morning. You knew that she played piano and was popular in high school, though a bit overshadowed by her best friend at the time. You knew that she liked long walks in nature, ice skating and that her favourite season was autumn. She never pressed you to share any details about your life, but you did it nonetheless. 

It all started rather accidentally, and you told her millions of times how glad you were that she found you. There was an old record player that you wanted to sell online, and you even gave out a Fleetwood Mac vinyl in addition to it for free. The woman contacted you, anonymous at that time, though she contacted you too late, and the record player was already sold. It didn’t stop the two of you from continuing the conversation, talking about music and antique pieces of furniture she adored. After that, everything escalated quickly – topics changing topics and bringing you into dynamics you didn’t know you would enjoy this much. She teased you a lot, and at first you acted shy and hesitant, bending under her dominance and unravelling your own fantasies over time. She wrapped you around her finger, and on one particular evening you sent her your first video. The woman made it clear that she was hopeful to receive more of those in the future. 

Could you be more careless? Talking to a stranger online and sharing the most intimate moments of your days with her? The way you trusted her was almost ridiculous, but the way she talked to you made you sure that this grown woman wouldn’t even consider harming you in some way. One would think you were a fool who would regret her messages one day, one would even point a finger at you and say how perverse all of it was. If you told any of your friends about Lydia, they would tell you that you went nuts. They would tell you to stop texting her immediately and delete the chat to destroy the blackmail material that you’d shared with a stranger. Luckily, no one knew. Except for Lydia, your mistress, to whom you granted not just your body, but also your heart.

Back in the day, you suggested moving the conversation from reselling website direct messages to a more convenient messenger, one that the woman hadn’t heard of before. It took her two days to create an account for contacting you there. Her profile picture was a bush of red flowers, her personal information included just a lyric of a song she liked, and all of it was only for your eyes to see. Not much, but her empty profile on an app which she signed in just for you never aroused any suspicions. Well, sometimes it did, but then she would ask you how your day went and the sweetness of the texts the two of you shared washed your worries away. 

In fact, it wasn’t all about sexting. You could see that she was genuinely interested and caring, and you didn’t send her pictures and videos every day, after all. Maybe… three times a week? Five if she was desperate. She woke up earlier than you if you managed to fall asleep the night before and always brightened your day from its beginning with a sweet ‘Good morning, darling’ message. She always wished you a good night and checked in throughout the day, answering your texts and moving the conversation forward. Sometimes she would even send you flowers, and a delivery man would call you and ask for the address. The man would appear on your porch with a delicate bouquet later, a card attached to the wrapping would say, ‘To my favourite girl – L’. You could only giggle and smile to yourself for the rest of the day. No matter how hard you tried to get her number to send something in return, the woman would always brush you off. You can send me a picture in return, she would text you. That was exactly what you would do next. 

You’d always start with pictures. On days when you felt especially good about yourself, you didn’t even wait for her to ask. Undressing, you would send her several pictures, losing yet another piece of closing on every photo. Sometimes it would take her too long to reply, and you would record a video for her in advance. There wasn’t any surface in your house that wasn’t caught on camera while you would thrust your fingers inside, making it all pretty and appealing to look at. The sounds you made were an absolute turn on for her, and you always ensured that you put on a good show. It wasn’t even necessary to try hard, you would just recall all the dirty messages she sent you over the course of your relationship, you would imagine how it would feel to be held by her, how those long fingers would pound into you, how her lips would tease your flushed skin. You had a good imagination, and it was enough. The tiniest bits of her that were available to you – all of it was enough, that was what you were trying to convince yourself of. A hopeless romantic you were, blindly expecting that one day she would surprise you and reveal herself, and tell you how much she wanted to meet you in person. Still, it never came. That day never came, and you tried not to overthink it. You were supposed to be grateful for what you already had, after all.

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

I have a very important meeting today and I just know that it won’t go easy on me. Can you please bend over your desk for me this evening, dearest? Lydia texted you a few hours later after receiving the video. 

of course, mistress, you answered playfully. your boss doesn’t give you a break, huh? ;)

Thank you, darling girl, I’ll be waiting, she replied, ignoring the message about her boss. 

You made sure to text her during your lunch break, checking if she didn’t forget to eat in between her piles of work. She told you that she had a snack and it was very nice of you to bother. A couple of hours later she asked how were you feeling since you didn’t get any sleep last night. You told her that you were running on energy drinks and green tea and she jokingly scolded you for the energy drinks part. It made you bite your lower lip, how caring she was for you in return.

The desk in your office was never neat. Scattered papers, your laptop always on charge, heated up with architect software. You hunched over the plan with a pencil in your hand, making sure that the plumbing system of the building made sense at all. Working in a reconstruction and restoration company, you never really got a chance to do the part you studied for in the first place. Always checking other architects’ plans and fixing their mistakes for them, not having the opportunity to do something of your own. Your days were filled with somewhat ridiculous tasks yet even those managed to make you feel the struggle of workload.

The surface of your desk shuddered when your phone buzzed with a reminder about forthcoming meeting, and you straightened, feeling a familiar ache in your lower back. You threw on a jacket, took your phone and notebook and left your office, politely smiling at coworkers passing by. 

The meeting went as smoothly as always – at least you enjoyed the working atmosphere of the company. Your boss talked about the updates in the company policy and proceeded to inform the staff about upcoming projects. He announced that the Principal of Nevermore school contacted them for the reconstruction work, and your coworkers didn’t even try to hide their opinions on outcasts and how infamous the school was, especially after the causality that happened a few months ago. Not paying attention to their grumbling, you thought it would be a great opportunity to finally show your skills, and your boss thought so too.

“Y/N, you will take over this project. I’m passing you the papers with details, I feel like the time to shine has come!” he said, approaching your seat with a folder in his hands. Some of your coworkers sighed in relief, glad that they wouldn’t be involved with Nevermore. It made you wince – you never thought badly of outcasts like the majority of others did, the idea of being hostile towards someone just because they were different made you nauseous like it would do to any decent person. “The Principal insists on cooperation, and I have to warn you – you will probably have to visit the site more times than would be necessary for a usual project. I hope it won’t be a problem,” he said with a light smirk.

You smiled and bit your cheek, anticipation tingling on your fingertips. “No, it won’t be a problem. Thank you,” you uttered, taking the folder. “When am I supposed to start?” 

“Next week. We arranged a meeting with Principal Weems, she said it was very important for the school, and I quote, ‘to thoroughly negotiate the reconstruction process’.” 

The school was enormous, but the work was connected to a relatively small part of it, a tower that was destroyed recently. You spent the rest of your evening studying the documents – an old plan of the school that included the tower. It was impressive how old this building was. Besides, you would be taking part in preserving and reconstructing the historic site, the whole prospect of reconstructing a part of Nevermore ensemble sounded like a dream coming true. The fact of such a project being granted to you to work on would be unbelievable if deep down you didn’t know the reason for it. It seemed that no one from your company wanted to work with Nevermore, but the school was about to pay generously, so they had to find someone to 'deal with the outcasts'. How foolish your coworkers were for declining such an opportunity, you thought, smiling to yourself.

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

Back home, you didn’t bother to change into your indoor clothes, knowing full well that you would need to be completely naked soon anyway. Having had a quick meal and relaxed on the couch, closing your eyes for a little too long than you planned, you finally entered your bedroom and started setting a scene. Sometimes the lengths you went to make a perfect video for Lydia made you embarrassed, but how could you do it any other way? The woman’s attention was worth all of your efforts. You cleaned up your desk, returning previously forgotten mugs to the kitchen, shoving papers into the desk drawer and moving the pile of laundry laying on the floor out of frame. The curtains had to be closed for the last sun rays entering your bedroom not messing with the lighting on camera, the cosy shine of a garland and the dim light of a bedside lamp would be enough to illuminate your form in the most lovely way. You checked your reflection in the mirror and wiped away a few particles of mascara from under your eyes. For a second you tensed, your insecurity taking over. Would Lydia like you as much if she saw you in person? Wouldn’t she be disappointed that a flawless image you tried to create for her wasn’t as flawless in real life? Perhaps that was why she didn’t want to meet up in the first place? Did she already know that wasting the time of her busy schedule would completely disenchant her perception of you? You took a deep breath and shook your head, backing off from the mirror. It was alright. She liked you. Still you desperately wanted to be perfect for her. 

The next thing you did was distract yourself with having fun and a bit of a struggle with setting up a phone stand out of books. After you were sure that your phone wouldn’t slide down halfway through the recording, you set a 10 seconds timer and started slowly unbuttoning your shirt to catch the process on camera. The photo turned out just the way you wanted from the first try, revealing the right amount of skin and a glimpse of your lingerie. It didn’t even matter in the end, but you were always attentive to details. Completely taking off your shirt, you grabbed your phone and took the second picture – a close up of your lacy bra, nipples visible through the fabric, collarbones calling to be showered with your mistress’ kisses. The sound of timer counting down rang across your bedroom once again, you unhooked your bra to send it down onto the floor and stepped back, already topless, unzipping your pants and craning your neck to the side with a soft smile on your lips. Oh, how much you loved spoiling Lydia even if sometimes it stressed you out to the point of worrying about your imperfections. Your pants made their way onto the floor as well, out of the frame, of course, and as the next timer started counting down, you rushed to your desk to bend over it prettily, exposing your cheeks for the last photo. Then, you returned to your phone and sent pictures to Lydia, smiling to yourself at the thought of her ending her tedious day of work and seeing your message.  

It took you a fair amount of time to warm yourself up for the video by bringing yourself to the edge with a vibrator, uncomfortably sprawled in your chair and growing hotter with every second. You barely managed to stop yourself from climaxing, removing the vibrator from your clit and standing up on wobbly legs to continue your filming session. The phone was settled into its makeshift stand again, the sun finally settled, not peeking through the curtains anymore, which made the scene look especially intimate in the dimmed lights, and you were ready to absolutely ruin yourself for Lydia. After pressing the record button, you bent over your desk once again, and massaged your cheeks, squeezing and pulling to reveal your glistening sex. Having satisfied your need to tease the woman a little more, you spread your legs wider and took a toy that rested on the desk the whole time.

Teasing your wet entrance with the toy, you pleaded into the silence of your room, “Oh, please, fuck me… fuck me, mistress, please…”

By the time you finished, you were worn out – the position was rather uncomfortable, especially when you had to work with your hand from behind. You pressed the side of your face against the surface and sighed happily, “Thank you, mistress, you are so good to me.” There was a deep red mark of the edge of the desk on your knee, the wood was digging into your skin almost the whole time you were filming after you decided to move your leg higher for better access and view. The awkward scene of you grunting as you lifted yourself from the desk and padded over to your bed to stop the recording was cropped out later. 

An hour passed by, and Lydia finally answered your messages, saying that she was done with the meeting and work for the day, ready to witness you coming undone for her. 

You look absolutely ravishing, dear. Let me see how you used that toy on your pretty pussy?

are you already in bed? You asked, trying to withhold the sweet video a little longer.

No, darling. I’m taking a bath right now, she answered, arousing the urge in you to ask her if she could give you at least a glimpse of her body basking in the warm water. You didn’t ask her. 

I need you, came a text seconds later, and you couldn’t resist her anymore. 

The video went on for about 11 minutes, you didn’t know if you should have made it shorter or longer for her liking. You wondered how long it would take her, you wondered what she would use to pleasure herself and how it would feel to be with her in that moment, spreading shower gel all over her breasts and teasing her with your thigh pressed against her core. You wondered how it would feel to just settle in her lap, wrap your hands around her shoulders and hide your face in her neck, revelling in her presence.

The waiting after sending her those kinds of videos was the most tortuous one, you didn’t yet know if she liked the video or not, you didn’t know if it met her expectations, you didn’t know if it even made her wet and eager to pleasure herself. Sometimes you were afraid that she wouldn’t even bother to watch it or to reply to you ever again. Fifteen minutes later, you got a response – 1 attachment. Your heart somersaulted against your ribcage, and you hesitated for a moment before tapping on the notification, prolonging the excitement of not knowing what she sent you.

Those beautiful thighs. Oh, how much you thought about them wrapping around your head, how many times you rewatched the only video she sent you, remembering the patterns of stretch marks along her skin. She looked especially soft and rosy, her wet pubic hair neatly covered her sex, and the foam melted around her body, glistening on camera. The water was steamy and her hand rested on the rim of the bathtub – you could only assume that she was completely spent. 

i would eat you out until those gorgeous legs are shaking, you texted after a while of staring, unable to think straight.

Not before I would be done edging you for hours, she cheekily answered. And before you could think of a suitable response in the same dirty fashion, she sent her next message, Thank you, dearest. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.

A smile spread across your features, so wide it almost started to hurt. You plumped down on the bed and nuzzled your nose into the pillow, vainly seeking her scent that was never there in the first place. Contented that the woman felt about you this way, you closed your eyes and tried to imagine her. Imagine, imagine, imagine – it was the only thing you could do. In that moment, you hopelessly wanted to press yourself into her, to cling to her body and dissolve in her warmth. How much you yearned for her to give you real proximity, to caress your sides as she would bury her face in your hair and fall asleep next to you, breathing peacefully. Or she would let you lie down on her chest and listen to her calming heartbeat, holding your hand and circling your skin with her thumb. 

A couple of red heart emojis were sent Lydia’s way and you locked your phone, turned on your back and looked at the ceiling. Fulfilled and deprived at the same time.

by the way, i was given a new project today! You texted Lydia five minutes later, remembering that you forgot to share the exciting news. i’m so happy, they finally gave me the big girl stuff to do haha

That’s amazing, dear. I’m very proud of you, Lydia answered, making you blush. 

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

The next Monday you were on your way to Nevermore – it felt very exciting to leave the office for once to see the site of reconstruction. To your surprise, it wasn’t that long of a ride, you expected the school to be more distant from Jericho than it was. Driving along the road that was framed by thick forest made you want to pull over for a second to take a picture of towering trees, branches tranquilly swinging in the wind, the sun peaking through the leaves. However it would be a bad idea, unless you wanted to be late for the meeting more than you already were.

The building of Nevermore astonished you from the first glance. A dark fantasy, elaborate decorations and old-fashioned high ceilings. You arrived at the brink of evening – Principal Weems didn’t have time for the meeting until 5 p.m. – and the golden hour made the school look even more otherworldly. You didn’t need a tour since you had an insight on what the building was like inside, and the location of classrooms and halls didn’t really change over decades. Approaching the Principal’s office, you adjusted the collar of your shirt and fixed your hair – this was serious, you had to make a good impression on the client. 

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

a/n: oh, larissa... honey, you've got a big storm coming

[mescalpascal]

Title: A Fine Romance (Marcus Pike x f!Reader)

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 2735

Warnings: Established, long-term relationship; no age gap; strong language; semi-public sex; oral sex (female-receiving); unprotected PiV sex; Reader identifies as female and has female anatomy but is undescribed otherwise; Reader has no name — Marcus and others call her by pet names (i.e.: “Songbird”, “my girl”); gratuitous use of Bruce Springsteen lyrics.

Notes: Part of the @pedgito / @chaotic-mystery / @amanitacowboy Summer Of Love challenge! I was given Marcus Pike at a concert and the moodboard above. This was not anywhere near the story I set out to write, but it’s the story that wanted to be told. I hope everyone enjoys.

Dedicated to @ladamedusoif, my beta, my lifeline (sometimes literally), and one of the best friends a girl could ask for… Thank you. 💜

(Dividers by @saradika-graphics)

You’re nervous.

You’re used to the feeling, and usually, it passes pretty fast. Once the lights hit your face and the mic’s in your grasp, it all fades and there’s nothing but you and the music and the crowd singing your lyrics back.

Maybe it’s because it’s a festival — your first one ever. You’re far more accustomed to dark little bars or the smaller concert venues you’ve recently graduated to. So this? This wide-open field with its hundreds of thousands of faces and unknowable reach thanks to a free online livestream?

This makes you nervous.

“Hey.” Marcus’ voice is clear even over the din of the crowd. “You alright?”

You turn to meet his deep brown eyes, shining with excitement for you. “Just a little shaky.”

His smile widens and his broad hand falls to your lower back. “You’re gonna be amazing, Songbird.” Just the sound of your nickname slows your heart rate a little. “And,” he leans in and kisses you softly, his lips dragging on yours a little longer than necessary. “I can’t wait to celebrate your success afterward.”

You feel the heat in your face though you’re sure no one heard Marcus’ entendre. Swatting gently at his arm even as you wink, you pull back. “Where will you be?”

“There’s a little family section in the pit. On your left from centerstage. I’ll be right there.” He presses another kiss to your cheek as one of the stagehands waves to you, your signal that you’re about to go on. “Love you,” he murmurs, catching your fingers and squeezing them. “Go kick some ass.”

“I love you, too,” you reply as he hurries away.

“You ready?” Dante Robbins has been your guitarist since the days of playing on the street outside the bars.

“Mm. Let’s do it.”

Your traditional pre-show handclaps are half-hearted, and you wonder if maybe Dante is just as nervous as you. But when the MC announces your set and you bounce onto the stage, things start to feel much more familiar.

“Thank you, New York!”

Dante’s nimble fingers slip into your über-popular cover of Bruce Springsteen’s “Rosalita”, the festival’s backing band picking up immediately, and your gaze surreptitiously slips down to find Marcus in the exact spot he’d said.

“Spread out now, Rosie, doctor come cut loose her mama’s reins You know playin’ blind man's bluff is a little baby’s game You pick up Little Dynamite, I’m gonna pick up Little Gun And together we’re gonna go out tonight and make that highway run You don’t have to call me lieutenant, Rosie, and I don’t want to be your son The only lover I’m ever gonna need’s your soft sweet little girl’s tongue Ah, Rosie, you’re the one…”

As you dance and sing across the stage, your nerves all but abated, you catch Marcus again, bouncing and clapping like your very own Courteney Cox. He’s got such a smile on his face you can’t help but grin back, almost wishing you could pull him up to dance beside you.

“Rosalita, jump a little lighter Señorita, come sit by my fire I just want to be your lover, ain't no liar Rosalita, you're my stone desire…”

Your set consists of six songs, and you close it out with your first single, “Stone Desire” (which calls right back to “Rosalita” and, you think, is a perfect circle). The roar of the crowd is beyond deafening as you hurry off stage, and in the excitement, you realize — Dante isn’t with you. In fact, he’s been more than absent since you first got up on stage.

“Dante?” you call. You try to think — nothing unusual had happened since that morning. You’d done your little rehearsal in your hotel room while Marcus showered; you’d driven over together in the trailer bus…

And yet, since you’d gotten to the festival grounds, he’d been distant. The cold way he started the gig. The enthusiastic high-fives that had been your signature since the early days had been lacking. He didn’t even respond normally to the way you chatted and introduced him between songs.

What did I do? you think. Our biggest chance yet and he’s…

You step past the little curtains that separate the wings of the stage from the outside world, and stop dead in your tracks.

Dante is standing right there, acoustic guitar now strapped over his shoulder. You recognize the song he’s playing — Peter Frampton’s quintessential “Show Me The Way” — but it’s truly just background noise to the other thing happening…

Marcus, on one knee, holding up a simple diamond solitaire.

“I know you probably think I’m insane,” he says, his voice soft but strong. “But I’ve wanted to do this for so long and I just… Today felt like the right day. This feels like the right moment.” His eyes hold yours as you take slow, tentative steps towards him. “I want to be there for you every single time you sing, sweetheart. Your own personal fanclub — on and off that stage.” He reaches out and takes your fingers lightly in his free hand. “Will you marry me?”

You feel the grass under your knees before you even realize you’ve dropped down to meet him. “Oh, Marcus,” you murmur, your fingers grazing up over his stubbled cheek. You feel tears on your face and your smile doesn’t feel like it will ever falter. “Yes. Of course, yes.”

Dante’s soft guitar is all you hear as Marcus slips the little band over your finger and pulls you in for a kiss, his tongue parting your lips as his hand curls around the back of your neck. “Oh, I love you,” he whispers into your mouth.

“I love you,” you reply, the salt of your tears and his delicious taste mixing between you. You’re sure people can see you, that your little moment isn’t private in any way, but you just don’t care. The only thing that matters is the beautiful man wrapped in your arms.

The kisses are only broken when a thought hits you. “Wait, wait.” You push back, your palms pressed against Marcus’ shoulders. Marcus holds you, his face colored with concern. “Dante?”

You look up at him, and he smiles a little, shrugging, his long hair bunching against his shoulders. “Sorry.”

“Marcus,” you say slowly. “Dante knew this whole time?”

“I didn’t know who else to trust,” he replies, grinning. “Figured he was a good choice.”

“Wish it was anyone else,” Dante interjects. “I can’t keep a secret for shit.”

“I thought you were mad at me!” you cry. “You were so out of it!”

“Tell your fiancé not to make me lie to you!”

“A secret is not a lie, Dante.”

Guitar long since swung around his back, Dante folded his arms over his chest. “And that’s why you’re a government agent and I’m a damn musician,” he laughs. Leaning over, he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Congratulations, babe. And you.” He points a finger in Marcus’ face. “Be good to my girl.”

Marcus salutes. “I will. I promise.”

With that, Dante is gone, and you and Marcus are alone — still kneeling in the grass, your new ring glinting against his shoulder in the sunlight. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

After a quick food truck meal and a couple of beers — interspersed with a handful of folks coming up to you for photos and autographs — Marcus holds your hand as you make your way back to the trailer. There’s a DJ on stage now, filling time between the late afternoon sets and the big time evening performers, and you hear your “Rosalita” remixed into an upbeat Mexican cumbia rhythm.

You laugh, but Marcus takes a different approach, pulling you in to dance with him. You’ve never been particularly good, but he is, and you fall into step with him as his hands curl around you and his body sways against yours.

“So hold tight, baby, cause don't you know daddy's comin’...”

His voice fills your ear, his breath hot on your cheek, and you press back against him, your hands wrapping over his where they rest on your belly.

Without another word, you turn and take his fingers in yours, pulling him to the trailer. You’re barely inside before your lips are on his.

“Easy, easy,” he whispers, but you fumble behind him to lock the door as you kiss him deeper.

“I want” — your teeth scrape over his full lower lip — “my fiancé” — your nose along the line of his beard — “to fuck me” — your tongue down the column of his throat — “right now.”

You know Marcus. He’s soft, gentle, romantic. Just the way you love him.

And yet, inspired by the song lyrics he’d purred in your ear and your proclamation of desire, a switch seems to have been flipped.

He grabs you, swinging you around so the backs of your thighs are pressed against the little table against the other wall. You take the hint, sitting back on it as he devours your mouth. “You’re going to have to be very quiet,” he whispers. “Even with the music outside.”

You nod, whimpering already as his fingers slip under the hem of your shirt and brush against your bare skin. He moves slowly, but soon the t-shirt is gone and so is the bra beneath it, and his lips have taken their place.

Carding your fingers through his hair, you toss your head back as his tongue circles over one of your nipples. “Oh, Marcus…”

“Shhh, love,” he whispers into your skin. He continues his path, pushing you carefully back to rest on your elbows as he dips into your belly button. His deft fingers work at your jeans, and he only pulls his mouth from your body long enough to release you from them.

He meets your eyes, wordlessly awaiting your agreement, and when you mouth, “I love you”, he grins and disappears between your legs.

It’s hard to be any kind of quiet when Marcus Pike is eating you out. In fact, it’s damn near impossible, and the only way you can control yourself is to grab the t-shirt you’d been wearing and stuff it between your lips.

Marcus isn’t all that quiet, either. His little groans and moans as he strokes himself through his jeans and as his lips and tongue probe your most sensitive areas are enough to make you come then and there. His hands are holding your legs apart even as every instinct inside you is telling you to close them; his nose is nudging your clit in the most delicious way possible as his tongue darts inside you.

You remove the material from your mouth to whisper, “Marcus, baby, I’m close.”

“I know,” he replies, looking up at you, his face shimmering with your slick. “Let go.”

And as he disappears again, you do.

You’re still shaking slightly, your breath in raspy gasps, when he — rather unceremoniously — pushes into you. The feeling is overwhelming and you can’t help but cry out louder than you’d intended, but he captures the sound in another bruising kiss as he lets you adjust around him. You tighten your muscles, relishing the fullness and weight of him inside you and on top of you, and he groans, taking the t-shirt from where it now rests over your chest and tucking it carefully behind your head.

As Marcus begins a slow but sharp rhythm against you, you discover that the little table is far sturdier than you’d have expected. His thighs slap hard against the bottom of your ass, and as he begins to speed up, you have the sudden image of the whole trailer shaking with the force of his thrusts.

It makes you laugh.

“What… What’s funny?” he pants, stuttering a little in his movements.

“N-no, don’t stop,” you breathe. “Just… If the trailer’s a-rockin’...”

“Oh, Jesus, sweetheart.” Marcus’ grin is real, even as sweat begins to bead on his forehead. “I must not be doing my job if you’re making jokes right now.”

As if rising to a challenge, he slips his thumb into your mouth and presses it to your tongue. After a moment, he pulls it free and uses it — wet with your saliva — to draw lazy circles around your clit as he fucks into you.

“Ohhhhhh.”

“That’s better,” he smiles. “C’mere.”

He slows a bit to allow you to push upright, your arms wrapping around his neck as he kisses you hard. “Can you carry me?”

“Mm, I think I can manage.”

He lifts you carefully, but he stumbles, and you both nearly collapse in giggles.

“Oh, Marcus, put me down.” You pinch lightly at his hip and he lets your feet hit the floor, his eyes taking in your whole body. “Like what you see?”

“Always.”

You smile and take his hand, leading him back to the little bed, only slipping away from him to push him onto his back. You stroke his cock a few times before repositioning yourself over him, angling yourself to take him in as deep as possible.

Your groans mix together in the heavy air, and when he’s fully seated inside you, you lean forward to shove his shirt up, encouraging him to remove it. When he does, you press heavy, hard kisses to his chest, slowly rolling your hips against his as you do.

“Ah, fuck, keep that up and I won’t last,” he hisses.

You grin. “That’s my plan, Mr. Pike.” You nip at a little cluster of freckles on the front of his shoulder. “At least, the first time.”

Marcus’ hands come to rest on your waist, gripping you just enough to give the impression that he’s in control despite you making all the moves on top of him. You hold onto his elbows, using him as leverage as you bounce and grind on him, keeping your rhythm steady as you watch his face redden, his freckles popping against the flush.

“Come on, Marcus,” you murmur. “Come inside me. Claim me; claim your wife.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation in his eyes, but just a moment, until he realizes you mean it completely. His fingers press so tightly into your skin you know you’ll feel the bruises for days but you don’t care, not one bit as you feel him shudder and arch beneath you. His body trembles and it’s enough to bring you over the edge with him, all pretense of quiet gone as you cry out and fall forward, your hand slamming into the wall over his head as he buries his face in the hollow of your throat.

You’re not entirely sure how much time has passed since you rolled off of Marcus and curled up under his arm. The music outside is less electronic, so you figure the DJ has finished and one of the bands is officially playing, but that could be minutes or hours, really.

Rolling onto your side, you slip your left hand over Marcus’ stomach and wiggle your finger so the little diamond glitters in the dim amber light of the trailer. “Marcus?”

“Mm?” He sounds sleepy, dazed, but he tightens his grip on you and you feel his lips brush over your forehead.

“When did you know you wanted to marry me?”

He’s quiet, just the sound of his steady breathing for a few moments. “Do you remember the first time I came to see you sing?”

Our fifth date. “Yes.”

“It was then.”

You furrow your brow, trying to remember the exact details of the night. “Because of my voice?”

“No.” He shifts against you now, shuffling down on the bed so your faces are aligned. “It was because you walked off that stage, right up to me, and said, ‘Let’s go get Chinese food, I’m starving.’”

“...you can’t be serious.”

He grins, his whole face lighting up. “As a heart attack. I knew right then.”

You laugh, loud and happy. “Oh, I fucking love you.”

Marcus pulls you in, and you wrap your legs around him, lining him up with your entrance. “Again, sweetheart?”

You nod, shifting your hips just slightly. “I said that was just the first time,” you reply, lifting your chin for a kiss. “Gotta celebrate tonight just right.”

As he slips inside you again, gentle and easy, you cuddle your face into his throat.

“I just wanna be your lover, ain’t no liar…”

[captaincapsicle83]

The Stark Internship

The Avenger Series - Part One

Masterlist

"Yes he should be-" The nice blonde lady said, possibly the same one you spoke to on the phone. Her voice sounded familiar. She had told you when to arrive, 10:30 am.

Arrive where? The Stark Tower, house of Stark Enterprises. A prestigious company ran by the man who had become the youngest CEO to take hold of a company, after his father's death when he was around 20 years old.

The nice blonde lady was taking you up the glass elevator, and through it, you got a view of the city. In all its trashy reality, you found it quite beautiful. Of course, thats coming from someone raised in a farmhouse on the outskirts of a small Canadian town.

Well, not really raised. That wasn't the right word the way you spent your childhood. No, it was the house you lived in when you weren't in a boarding school, when you weren't at an awards ceremony, and when you weren't being interviewed for being a "Child Prodigy."

The elevator opened up to a pristinely kept floor, the tunes of ACDC blasting through your eardrums. You thought the traffic on the street was loud, yet this was like thunder clapping in your head.

"Hold on, Sweetie," The blonde woman touched your arm, her voice kind. It's turns shrill and seems to be full of anger as she screams, "TONY!"

Your hands go up to your ears at the blindsiding change of energy. You drop them just as quickly, shaking them as you follow the woman, and her clicking heals.

"So, you go to MIT?" She asks you, voice kind again. You had been so distracted when she told you her name, all you could come up with were states. It was definitely a state, but which one...

Maryland?

"Uhm...yeah. I- I got a letter, and a scholarship to go there. And uh... My guidance counselor wanted to set me up for an internship at a tech company," You were explaining, and she seemed genuinely interested as the two of you walked through what seemed to be the towers lab-area floor. "I...I got a lot of offers, but uh...I picked this one. It seemed..."

You voice trailed off ad you walked through automatic doors, that opened up to a room filled with things you'd dreamed of, and seen in magazines and on TV. It was a tech geeks wet dream, and you were guilty of the stereotype.

"Different," you finished your sentence, barely audible.

You were mostly focused on mechanical engineering. You planned to double major in something after those four years were up (you were two years in). You hadn't picked what yet.

You had started at MIT at 16 (technically 15, you had a late birthday). Although, you had graduated from secondary school officially at 13.

You had wanted to go to a real college, in person, not just online like your mother wanted. You wanted the experience.

You wanted to be in the world.

Also, you ran track for MITs team. Just for fun. And for the record, you were good.

The music on this floor seemed to originate, and be the loudest, in this room.

"TONY!" You regrettably flinch again at the unexpected snap of noise.

The man working at a silver table seemed unbothered, although you got the notion he heard her.

Half of Manhattan heard her.

You could now see the clutter of the lab. The tools scattered hazardously over all the surfaces. Projects, both finished and seemingly discarded ones, lay everywhere, in their own heaps.

The woman clicks a button on the wall, and the music dies away. Not looking up from the panel he was working on, the brown haired man says, "Don't turn down my music. We've been over this."

"Well, Tony, your intern is here, and I'm not just gonna leave her on your doorstep like a lost puppy," The blonde lady's eyes roll, and her tone makes you understand that, whoever she is, she's probably the most reasonable, sensible person around here.

Tony abandons his project to spin around in his stool to face you.

"J.A.R.V.I.S, why didn't you alert me that my intern was here?" He looks up at the ceiling, as if expecting Jesus to answer.

And he does.

"Sorry sir, but, you've threatened me many times that you don't like me speaking over your music."

Oh no. Oh God. Jesus is here, in the ceiling, and he's British. You always knew stealing candy from that blind priest would catch up to you.

"Then turn the music off."

"The music is off, sir."

"Are you serio-!?"

"Sir, your intern is here."

Tony gives the ceiling a nasty look, scoffing, before clapping his hands and turning his attention towards you.

"Jesus is British?" You ask, getting all your priorities straight out of the gate.

"J.A.R.V.I.S. It's Just A Rather Very Intelligent System," Tony smirks, looking pleased with himself.

You blink. You wonder why you have to think about blinking so often. "It's an acronym."

"Oh goodie. Thank you Captain Obvious."

"You're welcome."

Tony sighs for a good ten seconds, pinching the bridge of his nose, before gathering himself. "Take a seat, Mr. Starks class is starting."

You looked around the lab. Among the clutter, and among the hazards, you came to the conclusion that the only seat was the one Stark was sitting at, a poor excuse of a stool.

"There aren't any," You say, in an even tone. Tony was perplexed, how you had done basically nothing, yet stepped on every nerve he had.

"Then...lesson one! Build a chair," He said gleefully.

"I didn't sign up for a woodworking class," you cross your arms, and the smug smile drops from his face. The first emotion you expressed besides indifference, and it just had to be snarky.

You just had to be like him.

You earned a seat at the table. Minor correction- on the table. You pushed aside a very expensive looking piece of equipment, and it clattered to the floor.

You hopped up onto the surface, and smiled at his blank face.

"What the hell?" You shrug, and he waves it off, turning back to his work. "How old are you."

"Eighteen...next month," you say, picking at your fingertips, but also watching his project closely. He seemed to work on autopilot, like he didn't have to think at all.

"Hmm," He says, nodding, with a smile on his face. You got the notion he liked you. You annoyed him, you confused him, yet he liked you. "Go to any cool parties recently?"

He was getting you something to work on. He had a basic blueprint, a holographic sketch, that you were admiring as he gathered your tools.

"I've never been to a party," you say. You take the titanium alloy, and lay it out in front of you as you grab a tape measure. You spread it over Tony's chest, and he spreads his arms out for you as you do so.

You could've been a tailor, you thought. Move to Romania, or Sokovia, live in a quaint little shop. Nonetheless, measurements were elementary to you, as were most things. Like astrophysics or quantum science.

"Well, what do you and your geek burger friends do then," He pops a cherry twizzler in his mouth and you turn back to your titanium. He watches you hesitate. Watches you fumble on where to set the tape measure, before you speak again.

"You should make it red and gold, can we do that? Like Captain America was red, white, and blue. It's about the marketing process of things. The capitalism in it," you say, clearly interested in the propaganda of things. You pull up old Captain America adds from the forties on your clear pop up screen.

Tony analyzed you for a bit, long enough for you to turn your head since you were clearly expecting an answer. "Yeah," He nodded. "Red and gold works. Whatever floats your boat Miss America."

You smiled warmly, it lighting up your whole face. You had moved onto the repulser technology Tony had planned.

People weren't easy. They weren't predictable like other things in the world. You couldn't use stoichiometry to figure out what would happen when you started a conversation with someone.

And Tony Stark may not have been predictable either, in fact he was the opposite. He was impulsive, if nothing else. But you liked talking to him. It felt...

It felt like what having a friend felt like. What you remember it feeling like.

And Tony seemed to like you too, and although you couldn't fathom as to why, you accepted it.

Embraced it, actually. His dialect and diction rubbed off on you.

☆ ☆ ☆

"I don't think it's the best idea," you were saying. Tony stood in front of you, dressed in the titanium alloy suit you had helped create. One of many, someday hoped to be millions.

"I do, you trust me, don't you?" His little metal helmet tilted to the side. The tone of voice he was using was the one you recognized as how he got Pepper to do things he wanted. Pepper being the blonde woman who had first greeted you.

"Do you trust me?" You asked back. In your left hand was a repulsor, ready to beam a bright light.

"A suit of armor around the world," Tony had said. "That's what I want. To just...make everything..."

"Controlled?"

"Protected, y/n. When horrible things come, not only would we be able to stop it, but they'd be protected in the end."

"We?"

"Yes, we. I trust you. With my life. More than anyone. You're the smartest person I know, and you know better than anyone how to work these kinds of things."

"You're the hero. I'm just...I'm not sure I'd be so good at that."

"You don't need to be so scared."

"Im not scared. But I'm also not a hero."

" You can be."

So here you stood, armed for target practice. And for whatever bright idea he seemed to always have, Tony's newest was making himself the target.

"Of course. With my life," He makes a motion of crossing his heart, making you laugh a little. "Okay Wonder Kid. Ready, set-"

You shoot from your hand before the go comes, knocking Tony to the side, and a hole in the back wall of his mansion.

"Oops," you say sheepishly. Tony is laughing inside his suit, you can tell, and Pepper suddenly comes out onto the lawn.

"What is going-! Tony, what is this?" She looks at him, as he steps out of the suit, and towards you.

"Target practice," you shrugged, as Tony was adjusting the repulsor loosely strapped to your hand.

"Isn't she doing great?" Tony cooed at you, as if you were a small dog learning tricks.

"NO!" Pepper gasped.

"I told I didn't think it was a good idea using one of these outside of a suit," you say. The two of you were barely holding it together over Pepper's distraught state.

"Then why'd you do it?" He says in a mocking tone, obviously knowing why.

"'Cause I trust you...Clearly a horrible decision."

"Yeah, my wall thinks so."

☆☆☆

You had a room in the tower. It was empty, mostly, but not as bare as when you had gotten here. You took a lot of pictures, that Tony allowed (did not have the knowledge of) you to print on the tenth floor. You hung them up on your walls, and on your bedframe. It made the place less lonely.

It was dark out, and you were sitting on your bed, one leg hanging off. The overhead light was off, but your small bedside lamp illuminated your writing space.

It was an idea you had when you were young. To keep notes on the people you met. Things you wanted to remember about them, their personalities, who they were. It helped your brain, to organize things better.

You were sure most people kept lists like these on a subconscious level. And maybe one day you wouldn't feel the need to write that Tony Stark was genuis or a billionaire. Or that he was your friend.

But you liked the safety net. You liked knowing that it was something you could turn to. Something you could reread, something that ensured you would never forget.

Next part

[pettyrevenge-base]

A customer abused our support staff, so I let her know that she wasn't as anonymous as she thought she was.

Several years ago, I worked the late shift as an online customer support agent for a women’s clothing company. The other CSAs and I were constantly mistreated by crappy customers, and our managers did absolutely nothing to support us. The company valued its customers so much that the rules for dealing with them were disgustingly lax. For example, this one guy would call in obviously masturbating, but we weren’t allowed to hang up on him because he never actually said he was. We had a three-strike policy where a customer could say pretty much anything they wanted to three times before they were disconnected and banned. But we also had a “one day turnover” policy where if a customer was cut off for inappropriate behavior, the ban was reset the next day! So someone could come in, tell you that you’re a bitch three times, get kicked off, and then come and do it again the next day. The entire time I worked there, I never saw a single person get permanently banned. Not even the masturbating guy. I eventually ended up quitting specifically because a customer harassed me to the point of me crying, and my manager’s response was that I could have an unpaid 10-minute break now instead of my 15-minute break later. Yeah.

One of the worst customers was this woman we’ll call Kathy. This woman would enter our CSA chats around midnight, drunk (she admitted to this). She would ask questions like, “What jeans do you think go with this top?” While the CSA answered, Kathy would say things like, “Wow, this is taking so long. Imagine working a minimum wage job at midnight. Bet you want to kill yourself.” Warning #1. The next time, it would get a little worse. “Wow, you’re such a loser. Have you ever thought about killing yourself? I would if I was you.” Warning #2. The last time each night, it would be something like, “I hope you die. You’re so sad. You should kill yourself.” At that point, we’d let her know we could no longer help her, and we’d disconnect her. And then she’d pop back in chat within a few days and the whole thing would start over. She always said the same kinds of things. She clearly knew she could say three separate terrible things to us. Our managers never helped or stepped in.

I once looked this woman up. I wanted to know who she was. To my surprise, I found out that she was a therapist! She had her own practice. I was baffled. What she did was a horrible, cruel, unkind thing... I couldn't believe a therapist would do this.

I later quit working at the company. I waited a few weeks. And then I made a phone call… to Kathy’s practice. I spoke to Kathy. I told her I was seeking therapy. During our intake call, she asked me what kind of issues I was facing. “Well,” I said, “I do this really weird, psychotic thing a few nights a week. I get really drunk, and I start a chat with minimum-wage customer support agents and I tell them multiple times that they should kill themselves. That’s so fucking crazy, right?” She made a tiny noise. A moment passed. The call disconnected.

My friends at the company said that she never messaged them again.

Source: reddit.com/r/pettyrevenge

[fyonahmacnally]

Keys to My Heart

“Hey, Alex.” Kara calls out as she walks into their shared apartment, a confused look on her face. She drops a small cardboard box onto the island in the kitchen and starts rummaging through it. “Look at all the things I found on the rooftop. It’s weird. It seems like something appears every day. I can’t figure out where it’s coming from. No one goes up there except for me. Well, except our friends when we have parties, but you know what I mean.”

The tell-tale crinkle makes its appearance on the blonde’s face as she continues to pick up each item. She fervently sifts through the rooftop haul mulling over the possible origins in her mind. Surely no one in their apartment building is dumping random objects onto their roof, right? She thinks. Nah, It can’t be on purpose. Why would someone put coins and keys up there? Oh, there’s even a ring! Someone has to be missing that, right? Right?!

Alex leans her head back to glance over the back of the couch into the kitchen to see what her sister is going on about. The redhead can see her sister pulling things out of a box with a very bewildered look on her face. When she sees some of the items strewn across the countertop, she can’t help but laugh. She can already tell this is going to be one of those conversations. She sighs and takes a deep breath before pushing up off the couch. 

Kara’s incredibly intelligent. When it comes to science, languages, math, history, and almost any other academic topic, she is one of the smartest people around. However, the younger Danvers is sometimes lacking in the more practical knowledge that usually comes from interacting with the world and experimenting with boundaries as a teenager. Unfortunately, Kara didn’t really do any of those things. Her little sister led a pretty sheltered life in a remote country before her parents passed away when she was 12. Then, she was so traumatized when she was adopted that the Danvers may have been a bit over-protective. Yet another thing that didn’t do her any favors in collecting the ‘practical knowledge’ she needed to navigate the world. 

“Whatcha got there, Kara?” Alex bemused, wondering what the blonde is going to respond with. “Are you collecting random things off the street? We don’t have much space in the apartment so you can’t go full hoarder on me.” She chuckles as the crinkle on her sister’s forehead gets more pronounced and her head tilts like a confused puppy.

Kara sighs, dropping her chin to her chest before raising her head and her brow at her sister. “Really, Alex? I just told you when I walked in that I found all of this on the roof. You know I’ve been going up there everyday for the past few weeks to feed the crows.” She grins at her sister as they stand side-by-side combing through the loot. She picks up a set of keys and the ring to present to her sister. “They like it when I feed them and I like spending time up there. Anyway, these two things seem to be the most valuable of the odds and ends I found. Someone is surely upset about missing their emerald ring, but the keys to a BMW? Pretty sure someone is outright pissed about that.” 

Alex grabs the BMW key fob and key chain from her sister’s palm, looking at it for any kind of identifying information. “You know, you can take this to any BMW dealership and they can get it back to the owner. These fancy fobs store the car’s service information.” She sits the fob back on the counter and picks up the ring, inspecting it for engraving or some other identifier. “The ring is personalized too. You might be able to post online that you found it and that there is an inscription. The owner will know what the inscription is.”

“That’s a brilliant idea, Alex! You’re so smart.” Kara smiles and starts packing all the little trinkets back into her box. Midway through, she stops and looks at Alex again. “Where do you think this stuff came from? We never see anyone up there and I’ve never run into anybody when I feed the crows. Plus, there isn’t anyone that lives in our building that drives a car that fancy. I mean, maybe someone from one of the office buildings across the street, but how would it get on our roof?” She tilts her head to the side and furrows her brow in thought.

Alex has an internal debate about whether she should tell her sister about crows and their gifting behaviors. On the one hand, it would put an end to the ongoing confusion on her sister’s face. On the other hand, this could be so damn fun to watch. She’s in need of some good entertainment. Her life has been kind of empty since she and Maggie split. She grins, she can’t pass up this opportunity to mess with her sister. 

“Odd. Not sure how those things would get on our rooftop. You sure there hasn’t been anyone else up there?” She watches her sister finish packing her little collection back into its box and drift off into thought. “I mean, sure you haven’t seen anyone, but that doesn’t mean someone hasn’t been up there. You said most of the stuff just started showing up this week, right?”

Kara nods her head. “Yeah, I haven’t noticed anything until this week. I fed the birds on my lunch break Monday then came back down to finish my afternoon at work. When I went back on Tuesday during my break, there were coins and shiny rocks. Today when I went up to feed them, I found the ring and key fob so I just grabbed everything.” She scratches her head and looks back at her sister. “You don’t think someone is stealing things and leaving them on our rooftop to come back later, do you? I mean, I don’t think that would be a very practical thief, but I can’t think of anything else.”

She does her best not to outright cackle at her sister, but she can’t hold back her laughter so she attempts to turn it into a cough that ends up sounding more like a combination of a horse and a pig. Trying to retain her composure, she clears her throat and slides her hands across her face to shield her amusement. “Why don’t you give it another week and see what happens? In the meantime, you can post the ring on Facebook in one of the neighborhood groups and walk over to the BMW dealership down the block to see if they can find the owner of the fob. Maybe by the end of the week, you’ll have it all figured out.”

The blonde smiles and slides the box off the counter to carry to her bedroom. “That’s a good idea, Alex. I’ll get this mystery solved one way or another!” Kara excitedly stomps off toward her bedroom as Alex just shakes her head in fondness at the adorable idiot.

“This is going to be fun to watch.” Alex giggles to herself and her sister practically skips down the hallway. She should probably feel guilty for entertaining herself at Kara’s expense and maybe she will, but right now, it’s just funny to watch. As brilliant as her sister is, she thought she would have read all about crows. Apparently her curiosities don’t extend to the birds she feeds everyday. Giggling again, she heads back over to the couch to resume her evening, looking forward to what the next week brings in her sister’s bird saga.

Lena is running late. Her morning started with a 6:00 a.m. phone call from a client she never wanted to represent in the first place much less speak with before she’s had her goddamn coffee. Then, Lillian shows up at 7:30, knocking on her door. They are supposed to be having lunch at The Italian Affair, a new restaurant that just opened downtown, but her mother felt the need to ‘check in on her’ via an unplanned house call for a reason she still hasn’t been able to decipher. 

Now, she’s driving in downtown traffic trying to get to the office while sipping on a coffee that is definitively not what she ordered. She sighs, exasperated. She knew better than to stop at the chain store and not her normal little coffee shop. Checking her watch again, she groans, at this rate, she is not going to make her 9:30 meeting on time. A perfect way to top off her annoyingly frustrating Thursday.

She presses the call button on the steering wheel of her BMW M8, rolling her eyes at the traffic as she crawls through downtown. “Call Jess.” She speaks into the cabin of the car. 

The line rings three times before her assistant’s voice fills the interior. “Luthor & Lane, LLP, this is Jessica speaking. How may I assist you?”

“Good morning, Jess.” Lena drawled. “Has Ms. Arias arrived yet? My morning was derailed by Mr. Langley and followed up with an unplanned visit from Lillian. Now, I’m stuck in traffic.” 

Jess chuckles. “Sounds like your Thursday morning started with a bang, Miss Luthor.” Lena can hear papers shifting in the background before her assistant continues. “Ms. Arias hasn’t arrived yet, but I will put her in the small conference room if she arrives before you do.”

Lena lets out a sigh of relief. “Is there anything else I need to know? Did you confirm my reservations with Lillian for lunch today?” She glances around the car in front of her, hoping this traffic will suddenly vanish. At times like these, she wishes she had the ability to portal to places instead of driving.

“Your lunch reservation has been confirmed for 12:30.” Jess hums as she shuffles through the messages on her desk until she finds what she’s looking for. “Most of the messages can wait until you get into the office, but I did get a call from National City BMW earlier. Someone turned in your fob yesterday. I scheduled a courier to pick it up and drop it off this morning so you should have it by the time you arrive in the office.”

“Thank, fuck!” Lena huffed. “I still can’t figure out how in the hell they disappeared. Lucy and I were sitting on her balcony on Monday discussing a case. They were sitting on the table next to my laptop. We stepped inside to get food and when we came back, my keys were gone. We were inside for less than 10 minutes, Jess! How can they just disappear like that?!” She throws her hands into the air in frustration.

Jess laughs, she can imagine her boss with a scowl on her face and gesturing wildly inside her car. “At least someone found it. The gentlemen said all the other keys were still on the ring as well. Don’t forget to return the spare to the safe this afternoon in case you need me to bring it to you again.” She does her best to stifle the smile on her face, but is sure that her boss can hear it in her voice.

“Go ahead and laugh, Jess. I know you want to.” She jokes. “If it was you in the situation, I’m sure I would be laughing as well.” She shakes her head and smiles. The situation is amusing, even if it is still perplexing. 

She finally arrives at the office with 5 minutes to spare before her 9:30. Fortunately, Ms. Arias was stuck in the same traffic as she was and hasn’t quite made it yet. She sweeps into her office in a whirlwind, dropping her bag next to her chair and plopping herself into it. Already exhausted and her day just started. 

Lucy peeks her head around the corner into Lena’s office with a questioning look on her face. “You okay, Luthor? You seem a little…frazzled.” She makes her way inside her friend and business partner’s office, easing into the chair in front of her desk as if trying not to startle a cornered animal. “Jess said you had quite an eventful morning. She also said your fob got returned to the dealership. What’s the story there?”

Lena huffs and leans back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “Yes. My morning has been annoying. I still can’t figure out what Lillian’s angle was this morning. She rarely ever makes surprise visits unless she is scheming.” She groans and drops her head back into her plush leather chair. “I really hope she isn’t trying to set me up on another one of her well-intentioned blind dates again. You remember what happened last time.”

A loud and boisterous belly laugh erupts from Lucy’s small frame. She leans forward in her seat and slaps her thigh with amusement. “Oh, you mean the one with the guy that you said looked like Eddie Munster and Napoleon Dynamite had a baby? What was it you said he talked about the entire time?” 

The mirth shining in Lucy’s eyes made her lips twitch up in a smile, but she did her best to hide it. Lena narrowed her eyes at her best friend and cocked her head to the side. “Well, that’s difficult to say, Lane. The first half of the meal was about his collection of troll dolls.” She rolls her eyes and glares at Lucy. “Then, he spent the rest of dessert going on about the appropriate temperature of the storage unit he keeps them in to prevent any moisture or condensation.”

Lucy laughs heartily, oblivious to her friend’s annoyance. “Yes, that’s the one! I cannot believe your mother thought you would be remotely interested in that guy. She has to know your type by now, Lena. All of the men and women you have dated are leagues different than that guy.” She shakes her head and dabs the tears of laughter from the corners of her eyes. “Speaking of, you never told me what she said when you called her out about that set-up?”

“Oh you know, the typical Lillian response of ‘he’s from a good family, dear’ and ‘he’s a little eccentric, but he’s nice’... the usual.” Lena throws her hands up in surrender. “I just want to meet someone who’s honest, fun, and a little nerdy. Is that too much to ask?” She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“People like that don’t just fall from the sky, Luthor. You actually have to go out and mingle in the real world for that to happen.” Lucy chuckles. “It’s not like a bird is going to pluck you for the sidewalk and drop you into their arms! Live a little, Luthor.”

A soft knock sounds on the open door to Lena’s office as Jess peeks her head inside. “Ms. Arias is waiting for you in conference room 2, Miss Luthor. Good morning, Miss Lane.” Lucy smiles and nods at Jess before taking her leave. “The file you need is on your desk underneath your messages. Would you like me to sit in on the meeting?”

Lena grabs the file and flips through it quickly before grabbing her coffee and promptly sitting it back down after remembering how terrible it was. “Yes, I would like you to sit in on the meeting, but can you get rid of that atrocious excuse for coffee and grab me some from the kitchen on your way?” 

“Of course, Miss Luthor. I will be right behind you.” Jess smiles and quickly disappears as Lena takes a deep breath, heading to the conference room for her first meeting.

Kara sighs. It’s been a really long morning filled with nonstop work on a sci-fi novel from one of her newer clients. As much as she loves her work, she needs to take a break. She left a high paying corporate investigator job after she got burned out. Too many years of 60+ hours a week on top of her side job. She’d spent years doing proofreading, copy editing, and ghost writing on the side for extra money. After a while, it started bringing in more work than she could keep up with. After her burnout at her corporate gig, she decided she wanted something different. Here she is working from home, choosing her own clients, and making her own schedule. It’s nice. 

Plus, she still picks up the occasional corporate investigation client too. Mostly work for attorneys. Well, one attorney, really. Lucy Lane. She and Lucy became friends when her cousin Clark started dating Lucy’s sister. They don’t see each other much, but they do text regularly and Lucy’s office is across the street from her apartment so when they work on a case together, it’s very convenient. That reminds her, she needs to check in with Lucy so she sends the brunette a text before she looks back at her computer screen with a huff of exhaustion.

She’s been working non-stop all day and her eyes are starting to feel crossed from staring at her screen for so long. She’s almost done with this manuscript so she’s been trying to power through until the end. The desire to get it back to her client before the end of the day has been driving her, but it seems her eyes have other plans. Leaning back in her chair, she groans as her back pops and cracks after being in the same position for hours. 

“Okay. I need to take a break.” She says to her empty apartment. Shaking her head and laughing she pushes herself away from her desk. “And now I am talking to myself.” She swings by the kitchen to grab the leftover Italian food from the fridge and pop it into the microwave. Then she gathers the things she needs to feed the crows and sits it next to the door. Once she has everything she needs, she heads to the roof with her lunch to take a much needed break and to feed her new bird friends. She briefly wonders if she’ll find any random treasures up there today.

When she opens the door to the rooftop, she smiles. The sun is bright, the sky is a sparkling blue, and the little plants she brought up here give the area a nice little pop of color. There’s also a little table in the corner that has a little umbrella that she stashed up here. That’s where she heads to eat her lunch and enjoy the nice mild weather. She’s just barely finished her lunch and is basking in the sun's warm rays, when the first of the crows makes an appearance. 

Kara smiles. She reaches down and grabs the food she brought for the birds and makes her way over to the edge of the building. For a moment, she just watches the majestic creature. Their eyes meet and Kara realizes how much intelligence the crow’s eyes hold. There is an understanding there that is almost startling. She holds her hand out, her palm filled with fruits, nuts, and vegetables. As many times as she has fed the creatures, she’s never offered it from her hand and she’s interested to see what happens. She can tell the bird is hesitant, but she’s got all the patience in the world. 

Her patience pays off. The crow she has affectionately been calling Raven in her head slowly steps closer to her hand and quickly grabs a piece of fruit before hopping away to eat it. That happens several more times before more birds show up. A peel of laughter bubbles inside Kara’s chest and floats past her lips as the birds eat from her hand. She’s placed more food on the ledge of the building and just watches with wonder as they feast on the treats she brought. The blonde settles in to watch the interactions and antics of her new pals.

Lena is frustrated. This day has been trying her patience from the start. Her last client meeting ran 30 minutes longer than it should have and now she is running late to meet Lillian for lunch. One of the things her mother hates most is tardiness. Her relationship with Lillian hasn’t always been stellar, but they’ve managed to get along reasonably well since both Lionel and Lex are gone. That doesn’t mean Lillian’s snarky tendencies don’t still shine through at times. Of course that generally brings out her own snark and sarcasm - something Lillian has always frowned upon. It still occasionally gets a little nasty between them, but they’ve learned to rein it in over the years. 

When she finally gets parked and makes her way into the restaurant, she can see the irritation all over her mother’s face. She pauses at the hostess station and takes a deep breath before making her way to the stoic woman. Pulling out her chair and taking her seat, she smiles across the table at her mother and apologizes for her tardiness. Surprisingly, there are no petty comments or snide remarks. That alone makes Lena feel uneasy. 

They make it through the meal without any underhanded remarks or any snarkiness. It isn’t until Lillian is signing the receipt for their food that the real reason for her mother’s presence at her home this morning is finally revealed. 

“So, are you seeing someone?” Lillian asks, a neutral look on her face. “Francois mentioned you have been coming home late a lot recently.”

Lena does her best to contain the urge to roll her eyes at her mother, but they have a mind of their own and she feels them nearly roll into the back of her head. She pinches the bridge of her nose for what feels like the 100th time today and sighs. “Mother, why are you talking to the doorman of my building about my comings and goings? No, you know what, I’m going to be filing a complaint. He has no business speaking to anyone about my private business.” She glares at her mother. “Including and especially you.”

A small gasp escapes Lillian as Lena rolls her eyes again at her mother’s feigned offense. “I’m just a concerned mother worried about her daughter’s well-being.” She places a hand on her chest for added effect, again causing Lena to roll her eyes. “Don’t take it out on Francois. He probably thought you talked to me more about your life.” 

“Mother, stop being nosey and stop probing into my private life. I am not seeing anyone. I don’t need your help getting dates and I’m perfectly happy with my life.” She sighs and starts gathering her things to escape this personal inquiry before it turns sour. “In case you have forgotten, I co-own one of the most successful law firms in the city. I don’t have time for your meddling in my personal life. Now, if you will excuse me mother, I need to get back to work.”

They both stand and give their customary air cheek kisses before they part ways. Lena mumbles under her breath about her meddling mother the entire way back to her car and throughout the drive back to her office. She lets out a breath of relief when she parks in her space next to her office building. Finally, she can get some peace from her busybody, gossipy mother. Deep down, she knows that Lillian is trying to show that she cares, but there are so many other ways to go about it. Why she is suddenly focused on her love life is something she can’t figure out. At least she has escaped it for a few more days. She leans forward to press her now throbbing forehead onto her steering wheel and prepares herself for the rest of her busy day.

Grabbing her bag and her keys, she steps out into the glowing sun of the breezy afternoon. She wishes she could bask in the warmth of the rays for a bit before she steps back into her office, but work awaits. Locking her car, she steps onto the sidewalk heading to her office. Her phone starts ringing so she steps to the side and pauses at one of the benches along the sidewalk. Sitting her keys beside her bag, she fishes her phone out to see Lucy’s face staring back at her. 

“Hey Luce, what’s up?” Lena says just as a black bird lands next to her bag on the bench. It startles her a bit, but she doesn’t think much about it. “I’m almost back in the office. I’m on the sidewalk out front.”

She barely gets those words out of her mouth before the creature staring at her from the bench snatches her keys and takes off. At first she is so stunned that she can’t speak. That quickly morphs into a tirade of profanities that has Lucy laughing.

“Lena, what the hell is going on?” Lucy chuckles again.

“Dammit, Lane. It’s not funny! A goddamn bird just flew off with my fucking keys!” Lena angrily spit back at her through the speaker. “I’ve gotta go. I think I know where the little thief went.”

Lucy was still laughing pretty hard on the other end of the phone. Lena just growled and hung up. She was pissed. It makes her wonder if this is how her keys disappeared on Monday. They were sitting outside on the patio table at Lucy’s apartment and the apartment wasn’t far from here. It would make sense if the little thief snatched them and flew to the building across the street. From the looks of it, there is a whole family of what appears to be crows hanging out up there. Regardless, Lena had to get her keys back. 

She tosses her phone into her purse, zips it up, and secures it onto her shoulder. Preparing herself to march across the street and get her damn keys back from that thieving little bird. When she makes it across the road and into the lobby of the building, she finds the elevator out of order. Of course it is, she thinks. That’s par for the course on this shitty day. By the time she gets to the top floor, 6 flights of stairs later, she is out of breath and even more pissed than when she started. 

Kara is having a blast feeding and interacting with the crows. They’re so much more intelligent than she imagined. She’s long since run out of food to give them, but they seem to be chatting amongst each other. It’s interesting to watch their social behavior and which ones seem to be the ‘leaders’ of the group. She’s just considering going back down to her apartment to get back to work when one of the crows lands on the ledge in front of her with something shiny in its beak. 

“Whatcha got there, little fellow?” She coos at the bird. It seems to cock its head sideways in understanding and hops forward to drop the object in front of her. “Oh no. Oh no.” She gasps and looks around the roof. There are several more little gifts up here that weren’t here earlier. It suddenly clicks in her head. The crows have been bringing her ‘gifts’ for feeding them. And it appears they really like this set of keys since she is almost positive it is the same set she just returned yesterday. 

She looks up at the bird still eyeing her. “Um, I do appreciate the presents, buddy. I promise, I do. But, uh, you probably shouldn’t steal people’s keys.” Kara bites her lip. She feels really bad, but has no idea what she is supposed to do about it. “I’m going to have to turn these keys in again and the dealership is either going to think the owner of them is irresponsible or I am some type of odd thief.”

Kara has just finished her one-sided conversation with the bird and is about to head downstairs to walk the keys back to the dealership when the door to the rooftop slams open. It’s so loud that it scares her and sends all the birds scattering into the air. She spins around. One hand flies up to her chest while the other darts out in front of her in some form of protection or surrender. She isn’t sure which. Either way, the keys are dangling from the middle finger of her outstretched hand. 

Her eyes lock onto a pair of the most stunning and mesmerizing eyes she has ever seen. When she finally manages to shake herself from the hypnotizing depths, her own eyes scan over dark inky raven locks pulled back into a high ponytail, pale porcelain skin that seems to glimmer in the sunlight, a jawline that could cut glass, and a curvy, suit clad body. She’s suddenly drinking in absolutely the most ethereal, captivatingly gorgeous woman her eyes have ever had the privilege of seeing. Her brain screeches to a halt and all words promptly vacate the premises. 

Lena throws the door open, her anger simmering under her skin like a snake ready to strike. This is just the icing on the cake of her shit day and she’s ready to fight. Well, she is until she makes eye contact with ocean blue eyes filled with sunshine and starlight. Her body is shocked into stillness. Her heart, previously racing with adrenaline and anger, starts racing for another reason entirely. Her mind starts drowning in the depths of those soulful pools of deep blue sea. Slowly, she shakes herself free from the gaze as her eyes track up to loose blond curls, then back down to full, pouty pink lips, strong broad shoulders, to what appears to be her keys sitting on long tanned fingers, and further to muscular, jean-clad thighs. This is certainly one of the most handsome women she’s ever laid eyes on and she suddenly forgets what she came here for.

Eventually, Kara’s brain seems to unscramble itself and she clears her throat. Keeping her hands up in what she hopes is a peaceful gesture, she takes a step toward the mystery woman. “H-Hi. I’m, um, Kara. K-Kara Danvers. I’ve never seen you in the building before. Do you, uh, live here?” She glances around, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous. “I’ve, um, met most of the people in the building before and uh, I w-would have remembered m-meeting you. I’m sure of that. Y-You’re v-very p-pretty.” She snaps her mouth shut and can feel her cheeks burning as she lowers her eyes and starts to fidget with her hands.

That’s when she remembers the keys in her hand. “Oh. I need to take these to the dealership again.” She says, removing the key ring from her finger and moving to put them in her pocket. “I’m sorry. You didn’t need to know that.” She chuckles nervously, feeling the heat climb up her neck.

A smile crawls across Lena’s face. This woman, Kara, is adorable. She can’t help but be enamored with this incredibly cute and undeniably attractive blonde. “I’m Lena. Lena Luthor.” She steps closer, continuing until she’s roughly two feet in front of the endearing stranger. “And I am pretty sure those are my keys.” She chuckles and points at the hand that is now fidgeting with the dangling keys. 

“Oh! OH!” Kara says and turns her hand over to offer the object to Lena. “The, uh, the crows brought them to me.” She points over her shoulder to the empty rooftop behind her. 

Lena laughs, takes her keys, and nods her head. “Yes, I know. The little bastard stole them right off the bench across the street when I was trying to grab my phone.” She dips her head down to gather herself, trying to will herself not to blush from the simple brush of their skin in the exchange of the keys. Raising her eyes back to the blonde, she smiles in amusement. “I’m guessing this is the second time my keys have made it up here? You’re the one that returned them yesterday?”

“Um, yes. That was me.” Kara giggles, this was not what she expected to happen today. A gorgeous stranger whose laugh makes her soul smile, whose eyes make her heart dance. “I’m sorry my little crow buddies keep taking your keys. I didn’t even know they would do things like that until today.”

“Yes, they are incredibly smart animals. I’ve watched a few documentaries about them. They’re pretty fascinating.” Lena blushes again. She internally face-palms. Why is she saying things like this?! Get a grip, Luthor. You know how to talk to pretty women without being a complete dope. “Sorry. I watch a lot of documentaries. I’m a big nerd at heart.”

Kara beams, a giant toothy grin. “I love documentaries! I’m a big nerd too. We should watch something together sometime and compare notes.” She snaps her jaw closed again and feels the heat claw its way up her chest, her neck, and onto her cheeks. She drops her head and stuffs her hands into her back pockets before swallowing hard and forcing her eyes back up. “I mean, if that’s something that you’d like. You don’t really know me and I realize that might seem kind of weird so feel free to just ignore that if you, um, want to.” 

Before Lena can stop herself, she is reaching on to place her hand on Kara’s bicep. She bites her bottom lip when she feels the bulk of the muscle under her palm. She quickly shakes her head and removes her hand. “It’s okay, Kara.” She clears her throat and smiles, feeling her cheeks heating again. “I think I’d like to compare notes sometime.”

She glances at her watch and curses internally. “Unfortunately, I have to get back to work right now since I found my keys.” She jingles her keys and drops them into the purse as she digs out one of her business cards and passes it over to Kara. “But, I’d definitely be okay with you calling to set something up.”

The blonde's eyes go wide as she takes the card and glances down at it. A small gasp escapes, her eyes bouncing between the card and Lena several times before a toothy, lopsided grin fixes itself on her face. “You’re Lucy’s business partner!”

Lena tilts her head and raises a brow in question. “Indeed, I am. She’s also my best friend. Do you know Lucy?” It would be just her luck that she meets this gorgeous woman and she’s already had an entanglement with her best friend. That would track perfectly with the days she’s had. “I don’t remember ever meeting you before. I’m sure I would remember you.”

“Lucy and I have known each other for years. Her sister is married to my cousin, Clark.” She smiles at Lena. “Plus, I’ve done some work for her on a few corporate cases. I used to be a corporate investigator with Jones Investigative Services. I still do some contract work for her occasionally. To be honest, I am surprised we haven’t met before now.”

The raven haired attorney is stunned. She’s heard Lucy talk about Kara, but never knew her last name or saw a picture. While Lena and Lucy have known each other since law school, they never really spent much time around each other’s family by design. They both have complicated relationships with their families and liked that they could commiserate about it with each other while keeping it separate. Now she’s mad at Lucy for keeping this beautiful woman from her for so long.

“I’m surprised we haven’t met before either. I’ll have to give Lucy a hard time about that.” She winks at the blonde and steps back toward the door. “I really do have to get back to work though. I hope this isn’t the last time we talk.”

“I hope not either.” Kara says as she watches Lena disappear down the stairs and fixes her eyes on the business card in her hand. 

[mafufuu]

Okayokayokay so wait who is the redhead in ur pfp /infodump invite

alright here we go

the redhead in my icon is fuuta kajiyama from the milgram project! milgram is an experimental music project thing about ten prisoners, all responsible for "murder" {each of them have some form of plausible deniability} and the project is about judging them and prison systems and stuff and its really cool!! its split up into three trials, in each, each character has a song with lyrics and a music video giving clues about their crime, a voice drama where the guard interrogates them, and they each receive a verdict which the fans vote, forgiven or unforgiven {idk what happens when its 50-50 that has yet to happen on the final voting}

cw bullying, harassment, stalking {?}

fuuta is, as of trial one, what i would describe to be kind of an asshole. hes a twenty year old college student {does relate to the assholery to an extent i suppose} with a tough guy persona and unhealthy relationships with his family {his mom left, he doesnt have contact with his sister, and he considers his dad to be a wimp}. hes lonely and desperately craves companionship, so he turns to the internet. he takes up using twitter and makes friends on there, they spend time with one another through what he considers justice, whether or not it is actually justified could be debatable, but it is what others would call cancelling and/or doxxing.

fuuta considers this heroic, believing he is standing up for what is right, however he gradually loses his ways. it stops being justice and starts being blindsighted bullying. he goes as far to cyberbully a middle school girl for recreating a hat from a shop. he figures out where she lives and shares it online. at some point he realizes what he is doing is wrong and stops, but even if he told his "friends" to also cease this, they did not, and the girl ends up dead.

the frame in my icon is him realizing that there is some real person's blood on his hands, and it hurts. presumably his "friends" then went after him for bullying her, despite their role in the encounter. he is overwhelmed with guilt but refuses to admit it. then he gets sent to milgram.

in trial one, he is not forgiven for his actions. one of the other prisoners {kotoko yuzuriha} attacks those voted "guilty" {en translation uses innocent/guilty instead of forgiven/unforgiven and sometimes its easier to word the former pair} because she believes this is right. {theyre really two sides of the same coin but only fuuta really acknowledges} when we see him in trial two, he is a mess. he is anxious and afraid, injured too, he only possesses vision in one eye now. his façade is fully dropped. he is now being fully aware, or at least acting guiltier.

in his second music video, the encouragement from his "friends" is more clearly shown. we can hear ensemble vocals and clapping. from it we can see that the guilt is getting to him, he is hearing the voices of the audience {the characters don't necessarily know they're being judged by multiple people, there is one guard, es, who is an audience insert to a certain extent .} at the end of it, as he is burned alive like how his victim was pictured, he spray painted, like the imagery shown for the people he bullied, by the warden of the prison.

he is voted forgiven for his conscience, and i do not know when trial three is coming out so thats some of what has happened now. fun fact: fuuta is insecure about his appearance. we can see he consistently wears baggy clothing and layers, and he wears a face mask to cover his crooked teeth in trial one. in his first music video, we can see an idealized version of him, who is taller and has straighter teeth. the characters are also paired up for their themes with their crimes, and his pair, muu kusunoki, is notably considered pretty and was asked to be a model at least once, and the pairs are usually somewhat opposites.

thank you for the ask !! sorry this is a lot i think abt this guy quite abit

[tayloralisonswift]

i saw your post from like 15 minutes ago and i wanted to ask, are you comfortable with people online asking about your experiences with bipolar/mental health in general? usually i'm too afraid to ask about sensitive subjects, but i guess if i ask then it's totally your choice whether or not to answer

and if you're comfortable, what is your current experience like? what info would you tell someone who wants to be a better friend to you?

rooting for you and sending love always <3

hi love! this is a VERY long post, apologies in advance and thank you for asking.

you said it perfectly, because yes i am comfortable answering questions (part of my post last night was encouraging it), but also if i'm ever not comfortable with a question i can choose not to answer. if asked kindly/in good faith, i don't see anything wrong with a person asking. it means a lot that someone cares enough to ask!

disclaimer: this is my experience with my bipolar. other people will have other experiences, and you can ask them!

so i have this fun form of bipolar called "rapid cycling", and i am currently cycling faster than my psychiatrist is used to seeing (i got a good grade in bipolar, something that is normal to want and possible to achieve.) rapid cycling involves undulating between states (you've got mania, depression, stasis/stability, and mixed states - which are what they sound like, a mixture of depressive and manic symptoms.) because i'm currently in the midst of med changes that won't take effect for at least another month, my mood disorder is pretty much on its own to fend for itself, and like i said, it's cycling quickly right now. usually, like in the past two years, i'll cycle like a month or two depressed, a week or two days stable, three to four weeks manic, repeat. right now it's like, three days of mania one week of depression three days of mania, repeat. this is very hard to manage because i have to try and take care of myself with very little preparation for dips or highs.

for me, depressive episodes look like physical exhaustion (i take multiple naps throughout the day and need to go back to bed within an hour or two of being awake), ruminating about self loathing, and i get this fog where like, it's hard to smile. and even if in my head i'm smiling it's hard to get it to happen on my face. (like the other night, my mom was doing silly dances to try to and make me smile and i just. couldn't do it for a solid 20 minutes.) when i'm very low, this happens on steroids and it's hard to move my body even as i'm yelling at it to in my head. i usually just lay on the floor most of those days.

my manic episodes look like spendingspendingspending. i won't give the amount, but when i told my new psychiatrist about the most i've ever spent in one week, she said, "that's mania if i've ever heard of it". (i got another good grade in having bipolar, something that is normal to want and possible to achieve!) mania also involves lots of fast movement. my body has to be moving at all times. even more so, my mouth has to be moving at all times. i talk very, very quickly, and very, very extensively. my family members have to warn me that i'm talking so fast they don't understand what i'm saying. but my thoughts are going at the speed of light so i gotta relay them that quickly. mania looks like lots of risky and self destructive behaviors - excessive drinking, smoking, risky sex - all of those can be mania. a manic episode is not just one 'bad' or impulsive decision, and it's not happy. i also decide i'm going to do a bunch of big huge things in a short amount of time - if i ever say "ok i'm FINALLY writing a poetry book and i'm doing it this week" honestly i'm manic.

a mixed episode is the most dangerous, and it's the one doctors are most concerned about, because you have the energy and motivation to do something and you have the depressive thoughts that tell you to do something bad. this is where ideation thrives. it's very scary to be in that.

and i want to emphasize that, for me at least, i can often figure out when i'm in one of these episodes. it takes work but most of us are self aware enough to recognize it. that doesn't make an episode less powerful, but we aren't infants who don't understand our disorder.

i think the most important thing you can do for a friend with bipolar is ask them about their experience and listen. everyone is different - this is just my experience, and really the only thing you'll find that sums up all of our experiences is the DSM5 (and even that can be lacking in nuance) - and everyone needs different things. right now, the depressive moments are much stronger than the other ones, and things like reassurance and reminders that people care really help me (like this ask!) when i'm manic, a loving "slow down" does help me.

i know this was super long but like i said last night, no one ever asks. so i really appreciate you asking and giving me the space to answer. <3 <3 <3 <3

[goodluckclove]

John Green's Thoughts on Adulthood: A Post-Mortem Analysis

So I was thinking about the time years and years ago, back when writer John Green was more active on Tumblr. Someone asked if he would ever write a book about adults, and his perspective were that adults were boring.

There's mixed physical evidence online. I remember seeing it, the first line of the ask was captured on a Buzzfeed article from 2013. I couldn't find the actual ask, because from what I've heard at some point John Green was torn apart with such intensity that he is now just a collection of atoms. And I don't hate John Green. I liked his books when I was also young. I watched the VlogBrothers. If I met him in an author space I would thank him for introducing me to NaNoWriMo when I was in middle school.

And then I would ask if he was doing okay. Like - emotionally? Because the shit she said in that ask is some of the saddest I have ever heard in my life. I'm using this Wordpress post as a reference of the rest of what he said and I just want to go through why it's just such a fucked and dangerous thing to say as an author who advocates for young people.

Follow me!

“Would you ever write a YA novel where an adult plays a key role? I know you like to leave the focus around the teenagers and their “peer relationships… but I was just wondering if it had ever crossed your mind.”

That was the ask. Fairly reasonable! And John Green responded immediately with the following:

I mean, to be totally honest with you, I don’t really give a shit about adults.

This on its own is a massive self-report. Not to any sort of crime or character flaw. In my mind, it's part of the reason why I feel like a point where big enough online figures, writers included, either need a PR team or a LOT of therapy. But he continues.

Like, all of my friends are adults. My spouse is an adult. My parents and brother are adults. I know and like many adults. But I don’t want to write for them. Or God forbid about them. They’re just so…boring. It’s like, “Oh I have a mortgage. I buy six pairs of identical khaki pants at a time. I take care of children and watch the television program CSI.” I admire people who can make that crap into the stuff of interesting fiction, but…yeah. No.”

I am angry. I am very angry. If someone said this shit to me in person I would make a face. If we were sharing a space with anyone under the age of 21 I would immediately say "you need to shut the fuck up right now jesus christ".

The thought of a writer who really made his whole brand caring for youth telling them that their future is inevitably dull and unremarkable, especially when you deal with themes of suicide and mental illness, is actually one of the most artistically unethical things I can think of at the moment. I understand that John Green struggled with untreated OCD for very long time, so there's a chance this could actually just be him voicing an intrusive thought that honestly terrifies him.

But he's wrong. We know this, right? Including the adults on here who complain about the tedious aspects of adult life? We know that in a majority of cases it is generally better to be a legal adult than a minor? If you are someone who would go back to being in high school because you maybe had less responsibilities, are you really prepared to lose bodily/legal/societal autonomy?

Like I struggle in life. Sometimes I've struggled a lot. But at my worst, when I was unemployed and flat broke and I couldn't even sell my blood because I took Lithium, if someone told them they could magic me back to being 16 years old again I would scream in their face until they left.

Also, I have a mortgage. It's not boring. Mortgage and insurances are, in fact, pretty confusing and something you have to learn and research. The most boring part about my mortgage was the thirty minute meeting I spent signing paperwork, and once I did that I owned a house with my wife.

Young people who see this - there are going to be boring parts of your life. That's a thing that happens, and sometimes you'll actually be grateful for it. You aren't boring for being thrilled that there's a sale on khakis if you're buying them for a theatrical production, or donating them to a war relief effort, or you're using the fabric, or if it allows you to save money and time in a way that means you get to have a smoothie or something later.

I cannot speak for the experiences of people with higher support needs than I have. But I did talk about this to a friend with higher support needs, and they agreed that being an adult rules. There is a point in which you are no longer an extension of your family or upbringing and it is your life.

It's not always fun. It's scary and confusing and lonely. I had to learn a lot of what my parents never taught me. Adults are always learning things. But since I graduated high school, the only boring period of my life has been the times where I overworked myself into a breakdown and was forced to recover.

And, considering where John Green is now, that kind of explains his perspective a lot.

I hope he figures stuff out. There's no age limit to having to figure stuff out. We're all going to have to do it a lot in our lives.