#that was one of their call and response phrases. that they said a million fucking times

[thegreathomestuckreread]

posts that make me think of these little fuckers

[autisticshadowthehedgehog]

Nobody asked me for my opinion on the controversy that dropped today when the Sonic Movie cast pay rate was revealed, which is fair ig since I try to stay positive on this blog. But in case you're wondering, yeah as a certified AFAB™ I'm pissed, but not really specifically at the Sonic crew. Actor pay rates are usually negotiated between agents and the production companies so just like all the other problems with the Sonic movies, this is most likely an issue with Paramount and their patented dumbfuckery. Disclaimer that obviously it could very well be a Sonic crew issue as well, obviously I don't know the inner workings of the entire film production.

Also, if you're mad about this: please be mad about the pay gap that has been going on as long as Hollywood has been alive. This isn't a problem unique to the SCU. I know the phrase "pay gap" is thrown around a whole lot but do you guys actually know how big an issue it is?

Recent percentages are that male and female actors have "a wage difference of about 25 percent," with an estimated difference of $1-2million between star-power men and star-power women.[x][x] Basic Instinct star Sharon Stone said she made $500k to Michael Douglas's $14mil– and when she was asked to be lead in a film being made in ~2022, the lead male, who was "new", was going to be paid $8-9mil, with her salary still at $500k. Last December, Biggest Monopoly In The World Disney was sued by 9,000 women over their pay gap.

This article is from 2019 but brings up some big fucking pay gaps between leads– for instance, Gillian Anderson was offered half of what David Duchovny was for the X-Files reboot as one of the two main fucking characters, Amanda Seyfried has disclosed she made 10% of what her male co-star made on an undisclosed film, Natalie Portman made 1/3 of the salary of Ashton Kutcher in No Strings Attached, and Ellen Pompeo, the titular character of Grey's Anatomy, was paid less than the actor playing her love interest, Patrick Dempsey. In fact, Dempsey was being paid almost double what she was.

However, BIG issue with the 2019 article: it only focuses on what White actors are being paid. Research shows that Black actresses make 57 cents to every dollar white actors make on a good day. Viola Davis, one of the most popular and talented actresses of our generation, has said that black women "get probably a tenth of what a Caucasian woman gets. And I'm number one on the call sheet." Octavia Spencer had to collaborate with Jessica Chastain to make sure they both got paid the same amount of money on a film they both worked on, and revealed that her new salary increased 500% afterwards.

At the end of last year, while promo-ing The Color Purple, Taraji P. Henson broke into tears while talking about how little she's being paid when compared to her white and male contemporaries. And when she talked about the gap, I find it so fucking frustrating that the general audience response was to immediately blame the only Black female producer on the film. I have a million gripes with Oprah Winfrey but TCP cast has said that she herself managed to fix a lot of the problems on set and was nothing but supportive to them. Oh, and there were a lot of problems on set, including a lack of food and dressing space for the main actors. And this is all from celebrity women. Just think about how Hollywood is treating women who don't have the star power to speak up.

Of course this isn't even a problem solo to Hollywood, let alone Paramount, let alone just one movie. And honestly it was probably really sad that when I saw the pay rate for the Sonic 3 cast, I wasn't even surprised, because I've seen worse on bigger projects.

[adoringsan]

new world 💌 choi san — 2

Y/n knocks twice on the door of her father's study apprehensively, before sticking her head around the large, oak door to see the King sat at his desk, a glass of whiskey in hand.

"Y/n" the King gleams, "how's my Princess?"

Y/n giggles softly at her father's words. He's called her his Princess for as long as she can remember, and yeah, she is his Princess, literally, but Y/n is very attached to hearing her father saying it. "I'm tired, you?"

Her father takes a sip from his drink, before placing it back down with care onto the coaster. "I'm okay. However, there's something important I need to talk to you about Y/n. Something really important Y/n. It's serious, and I need you to not have a hissy fit over this. I need you to handle this with responsibility."

Y/n stares at her father for a few seconds, eyebrows furrowed in confusion trying to read her father's expression, but to no avail. Asking Y/n to not have a hissy fit is nothing new from her father, it's a phrase he's grown fond of over the years, however, he uses it in times of seriousness, so Y/n knows he's not calling this scenario serious lightly. "Are you having an affair?"

"What?" Y/n's father exclaims with eyes wide, "Have you lost your mind?"

"I mean you said it was serious" Y/n shrugs.

"It is Y/n but I'm not cheating on your mother, you know I love her very much." Your father states matter of factly, before finishing the rest of his drink, his serious eyes landing back on your confused ones. We've been thinking Y/n, you're twenty one now, and you've never had a boyfriend. You've always told us you want to, but that the opportunity has never arisen, nor have we ever been too keen on the idea. After a lot of reflection, me and your mother think you having a boyfriend would be a positive, not a negative. It would be good. Good for you, good for our image." Y/n's father begins, his tone completely serious.

"What? So I can have a boyfriend if I meet someone I find fitting?" Y/n questions, not quite understanding where her father's sudden change of heart on the idea of her dating has come from.

"No Y/n, you have a boyfriend."

Y/n chuckles dryly, "What? No, I don't. Dad you know I never get to meet new people how could i-"

"We've been doing some looking Y/n. We wanted to find you someone who is well known, respected, and well received by the public. We got into contact with the idol Choi San's management. You know him, right Y/n? His managers thought it was a fantastic idea, they said it would boost his popularity as well as his group's career a lot as well and-"

"What?" Y/n spits, seething with anger, "So I'm supposed to date this stranger because it'll make his silly little group more popular? Seriously?"

"Y/n I've already told you, it'll look great in the media for our family. The princess finally having a significant other, they must be starting to think you won't have anyone by your side when you take over reign in the future" the King says, trying to calm his daughter down.

Shock and disbelief are probably the best words to describe Y/n at present. Y/n has been dreaming of the day she's finally allowed to have her own boyfriend her whole life. What he looks like, what his hobbies are, what his favourite movie is, if he prefers dogs or cats. She never in a million years would have expected her own father to force her into a relationship with a complete stranger. She didn't think her father was like that.

"You're finally allowing me to be like everyone else my age, finally giving me a glimpse of reality, allowing me to have the chance to fall in love, but no, you have to go and ruin it by forcing me into a relationship with a fucking stranger!"

"Y/n-"

"No" Y/n coldly cuts off her father, standing up from her chair and approaching the door. "I hope I hate him and trust me, I'm going to do everything in my power to scare that boy away. Who the hell is Choi San? Because he's just signed a death wish."

With that, the study door slams shut loudly, echoing through the entire palace, followed by Y/n running up the stairs, locking her room door, and crying, hard.

Why can't she just be a normal twenty one year old?

_

San is nervous as he enters his manager's office. His manager sounded serious when he told him that they need to have a meeting. He's even more nervous at the fact that none of his members knew anything about the meeting. San knows he didn't do anything bad. San takes life very easily. He always takes care of other people's feelings, doing everything he can to make them happy. He knows he isn't in trouble, but he can't seem to calm his nerves.

"Hey Hwan, what's up? San asks his manager nervously as he takes a seat in front of him.

"Hey San" Hwan smiles, his expression calming San slightly. "There's something I need to talk to you about, it's a lot, but I know you'll do great like always."

San's body relaxes into the chair, a small smile on his face. "Is it a solo project? San asks hopefully.

"Of sorts I suppose" Hwan begins cautiously, "We've spoken about dating before, right?"

"Yeah of course" San shrugs, "No relationships but if I was to have one I'm to tell you immediately so you don't have to find out from the media."

"Exactly. Well, someone very important has been in contact with me San. They suggested something to me, and it would really benefit both your career and the career of Ateez. It would also look good for the other person's career too" Hwan explains, his eyes trying to make sense of San's reaction.

"I'm lost" San admits.

Hwan chuckles lightly at the younger boy's honesty, "I'm sorry San, let me get to the point. The person that was in contact was the King, San. He thinks it would be a great idea if you and Princess Y/n became a couple for the media."

San doesn't know how to react. How is he supposed to react? A Princess. A member of the Royal Family, his girlfriend. His first girlfriend. "I- what? Hwan I'm sure she's a lovely girl but I don't know her. She's literally a member of the Royal Family, a Princess. What if I don't want to?"

"Look San, I know this is a lot" Hwan sighs, "but this is huge San. "It's going to do so much for you, for the group. It's also a King's request San, I don't think it's really something to be argued. Trust me San, it'll be great.

"Can I go home now?" San asks quietly, his mind not quite comprehending the information he was just told.

"Okay," Hwan smiles softly, "get a good night's sleep, you're meeting the Princess for the first time tomorrow."

Seriously? How did San get into this mess?

—

new world masterlist | previous | next

note: the first full writing chapter! pleaseeee let me know what you think in my asks/replies. I also want to note that I’ve used the pronouns she/her for y/n as without choosing a pronoun to use it would have been hard to have my sentences flow, but of course, feel free to read it as whatever pronouns apply to you!

taglist: @scarfac3 @plants-w0rld @asherthehimbo

[smp-live]

The apocalypse happened a few years ago. And- it's vague, the apocalypse. It's not some big earth-shattering moment. It's confused tv reports and impulse decisions and little growing bits of tension until the pot boils over.

The details are fuzzy; it all happened so quickly that many civilians were left unaware of what exactly went down. One day, they were living, and the next, most weren't.

Nukes, EMPs, solar flares - the survivors find it doesn't matter. One way or another, the world ended, millions died, and everything’s different. Hostile. Harsh. Unforgiving. The sun is bright and searing, and radiation burns skin not covered head-to-toe.

People are cruel and will take advantage of anything they can. If you're not a part of an already-existing group, good luck.

Somehow, two men end up on a wooden pallet floating in the middle of the ocean. Maybe it was a plane crash, one of the few still running downed by a stray shot; maybe a boat capsized, embrittled by the radiation. Same as the apocalypse, it doesn't matter. What does is that now they’re surrounded by debris and a shark thirsting for blood and there’s one thing they both know: trust no-one.

So they don’t. Names hold power, as they’ve learnt over the past few years; names imply trust. When it becomes apparent they’re stuck together and the time comes to introduce themselves, the elder of the two stares out to sea and says, “Call me...” And that phrase brings back memories of a book he’d read long ago, in the Before Days, and so he finishes, “Ishmael.”

The younger panics and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind: “I’m Gunk.”

‘Ishmael’ raises a skeptical eyebrow, clearly amused. “Gunk,” he repeats. And ‘Gunk’ nods, crosses his arms.

“Yeah, bitch. It’s...” his mind blanks, “Russian.”

Ishmael’s brow climbs further, and he looks on the verge of laughing, lips twisting ever-so-slightly upward. “Last name?”

“Uh,” Gunk wracks his brain, and something from a history class, years ago, stands out. Nearly forgotten amongst all the useless information - what he calls anything that doesn’t directly contribute to survival, nowadays - and only clinging on through his brain classifying it as ‘important’ for God-knows-why. “Gorbachov.”

“Like... Michael Gorbachov?” There’s a hint of laughter in Ishmael’s tone now, the first in a while. He tries not to let that thought depress him.

Gunk nods, relieved at the reminder of the rest of the name, even if he still can’t place it. “Yeah. He was my father.”

“Michael Gorbachov, eighth and final leader of Soviet Russia, was your father,” Ishmael deadpans, and, frustrated at having been outplayed, Gunk scowls.

“What of it?” he challenges, which makes Ishmael laugh, throwing his head back to the blistering sun high above.

“Okay, Gunk,” he says, and yet it doesn’t feel patronizing.

They both know the other is lying, that much is obvious from the constant teasing and jokes about Gunk’s ‘father.’ But it doesn’t matter, because in the slow turning of the days, they grow close. After all, there’s not much to do on a makeshift raft in the middle of the ocean, other than chat.

Ishmael is handy, and the main reason for their survival. He knows how to purify water and fillet a fish, how to add on to their raft without nails and swim against the ocean current. Gunk wonders where he picked all that up, but never asks.

(A survivalist father and paranoid brother, whom Ishmael hasn’t seen in half a decade. The thought that they’re probably still alive brings him comfort.)

Gunk, on the other hand, does most of the grunt work. Fishing in debris that floats by, diving down for rocks when they briefly dock, and the ever-important duty of keeping the shark they named Clive from destroying their miserly raft. He keeps up a steady stream of chatter through it all, and Ishmael thinks that’s what makes the monumental effort to go on worth it. Then, he wonders when he let himself get attached.

(It was a week or so in, when Gunk had fashioned himself a shelf out of the bottom of a storage bin and some planks, and proclaimed it his ‘comfort shelf.’ Gunk felt the same when Ishmael didn’t tell him to dismantle it, only pushed it aside, even though they were supposed to use that wood to repair Clive’s last attack.)

They survive, they grow closer, they hesitantly trust, and yet, they don’t pry. They don’t share their real names. Not until one day.

Ishmael goes swimming out to a nearby island to scavenge for food and chop down a few trees, if he can manage. Gunk stays on the ship - an anchor is next on their to-do list, and so he’s responsible for keeping it from drifting off with his tiny paddle. Except it’s not well-crafted, and grey jaws reach up to snap at the wood he’s standing on so he uses it to stab Clive, and the tip breaks off. The raft starts drifting away.

“Ishmael!” he calls, then again, louder, “Ishmael! Fuck, man!” But he’s nowhere to be seen, and the current is dragging Gunk awfully far out from the island.

He keeps calling, shouting, screaming, increasingly panicked at leaving his friend, the man who’d helped him survive for months, now, behind. Until his voice grows hoarse the way it never did from rambling for hours on end, and a little speck appears on the beach of the island.

Ishmael waves widely at him, and he must be shouting but Gunk can’t hear it over the lapping of the waves. So he assumes what was said, hollers, “I can’t fuckin’ come back, arsehole!” and raises the remains of the paddle over his head to clarify.

The speck stills, then bursts into motion, tossing everything he’s holding aside and shucking his shoes. Gunk can practically hear him mutter about what an “ridiculous child” he is, because although they’ve never shared their ages Ishmael’s decided he’s the elder of the two, which obviously means Gunk is a child.

And then Ishmael dives into the water, and he’s closing the distance between himself and the raft with each stroke. He cuts a straight line through the waves, until he suddenly swerves to the left. Gunk is confused a moment, before he notices - a grey fin jutting out of the water next to him.

Clive goes in for another pass, then another, and Ishmael jukes him out both times. He’s maybe five meters away, now, but the shark is coming back so Gunk screams. But Ishmael’s head is underwater, and he doesn’t hear. Just keeps going, towards safety he won't make it to.

Clive barrels into him. Ishmael vanishes underwater.

He doesn’t come back up.

Gunk is diving in before he can properly think, pushing past the cold shock of the sea, as he uses his self-taught skills to bring him to where he guesses Ishmael last was. Then, he takes a deep breath, squeezes his eyes shut, and goes under.

After a nervewracking few moments, his elbow bumps into something and he latches on, desperately dragging it upwards. They break the surface and he gasps for breath, Ishmael limp against him.

The trip back is agonizing. Ishmael is deadweight, their clothes are waterlogged, and Gunk has never been the best swimmer. But Clive is still lurking, and he refuses to drown after all this time, so he manages to drag them both back to the raft through pure willpower and spite.

Gunk collapses next to where he’d heaved Ishmael onto the planks, taking a second to compose himself. Shivering violently, he curls into a ball - he'll have to go for a spare change of clothes. His eyes drift shut. In a moment.

Then, panic seizes his heart as he becomes aware of how still Ishmael is. He jerks up, staring at him, searching for any sign of life, anything-

But a moment later he relaxes, when Ishmael rolls over and starts heaving out saltwater. Gunk reaches over and pats him on the back until it subsides, and he falls back onto the wood.

“You,” Ishmael says, letting his eyes flutter shut, “are so stupid.”

Gunk feels a burst of indignation. “Hey, what the fuck! I just saved your dumbass, Ish-ma-el.” He scowls at Ishmael’s placid little twist of the lips.

“Wilbur,” he murmurs, hands folded over his chest.

“What?”

“My name is Wilbur.”

Oh.

“I’m Tommy,” he says after a moment of silence where it sinks in, what he’d just been told, the trust laid on him, and then lays down next to Ishmael - Wilbur, now.

Wilbur just hums and wraps an arm under his shoulders, tugging him close - which is new; they’re really going all-in with this trust thing, huh? - then says, “So, so stupid.”

“Oi,” Tommy protests, but leans in closer.

Things aren’t really visibly different, after that. They still bicker, still do the same daily tasks, still slip up and call each other ‘Ishmael’ and ‘Gunk’ - though it becomes less and less common, other than with a teasing tone. They finally get their anchor, which means Tommy has the chance to go on land; though he quickly grows to dislike it after an incident with a particularly pissed-off boar.

To an outsider, everything remains the same. But to the inhabitants of the raft, it feels different. More homely. Warmer.

Once, after Wilbur chides Tommy over something or another, Tommy rolls his eyes and says, “You know, we really are like brothers.” He tries to keep his tone joking, and to not let himself hope for the words to be true.

Wilbur freezes. “Don’t say that; I’ll cry.” He blinks once to keep the tears at bay, and tries to push down the warmth in his chest.

(They both fail.)

About four months in, a light appears in the distance, at night. They angle their sail towards it and the dark shadow on the horizon. A few days later, it becomes apparent what it is: a lighthouse.

Inhabited land. Civilization.

They gather their meagre supplies once they dock, then ditch the raft in favour of climbing the lighthouse. And, from the top, off over a hill, Wilbur spots it first, points it out to his brother, who squints-

A Dome.

[jointspointssolderedtogether]

I'm coming off of anon because I'm frustrated that the only people who agree with me on one thing (the lesbian masterdoc/ "comphet" are bullshit) don't actually read theory and don't understand the origins of the ORIGINAL, SEPARATE TERM "compulsory heterosexuality" and its vast utility. This is a long post. Please keep in mind these things:

1. I think the "lesbian masterdoc" is horseshit. "Comphet" is not real. It is a stupid idea that a teenager came up with that has caused nothing but more stupidity. I don't like it. I don't want it to be spread. I think it does nothing but confuse people.

2. I am a lesbian according to all standards of your blog. Do not call me bisexual.

3. Compulsory heterosexuality, as Adrienne Rich presents it, is the following (I'm quoting a secondary source meant for college underclassmen): "Compulsory heterosexuality refers to the impression, explicit or implicit, that people should be heterosexual else something is wrong with them. Compulsory heterosexuality can also take a direct form, especially for women; each year men and patriarchal economics pressure or force millions of women around the globe into marriage, rape, or concubinage. Even in its implicit form, compulsory heterosexuality costs many people--especially people who favor same sex desire-- great and needless suffering, and it has much to do with the tragically high suicide rate among queer youth. Insisting on compulsory heterosexuality is a way of protecting illusions that the increasing visibility of queerness puts in doubt." (How To Interpret Literature, Robert Dale Parker, pg. 193) (Disclaimer: I don't endorse all of the phrasing here, especially the usage of the word "queer". Do not ascribe those aspects of this quote to me or my beliefs. I'm using it because it is a good summary of the essay.) Notice how none of this says "there is a magical force that makes me want to fuck this kpop dude but actually I'm a lesbian". That's "comphet". They are distinct concepts. Compulsory heterosexuality is a useful term, "comphet" is not.

@sapphic-aesthete See point #1. I don't know for certain what Adrienne Rich's sexuality is and I don't care. The idea that only the in-group can write about the experiences of a group they potentially do not belong to is not useful. If that were the case, there would be no point of anyone talking about anything because the in-group would just be talking to each other in circles. It's actually encouraged for people to engage with things like Ethnic Studies or Disability Studies or Native American studies regardless of your relationship to the in-group because principles of those schools of thought are applicable to all people and matter to all people because all people have the potential to interact with those groups. It is the same with lesbian studies. I'm white and I've taken classes on Native literature because my partner is Native and I want to be as understanding and informed as I can be. I wrote about... you guessed it... Native topics and issues. Also, the essay isn't about exclusively lesbians. Like I just said, and as Parker says, the idea of compulsory heterosexuality is applicable to all women. This is the "universalizing" view that I was describing.

@2uvie See point #1. Nowhere have I said that that lesbians like men. Nowhere does Adrienne Rich say in her essay that lesbians like men, or that lesbianism is a reaction to heterosexuality. Compulsory heterosexuality says that being heterosexual is the default and the only correct way to exist. Adrienne Rich, in response to that idea, posits the idea of the "lesbian continuum". The lesbian continuum does not mean that bisexual and straight women are or can be lesbians. Let's go back to Parker.

"In the 1980s, Adrienne Rich (...) suggested tht there is a lesbian continuum, "a range--through each woman's life and throughout history--of woman identified experience," that fits somewhere on a lesbian continuum, regardless of whether "a woman has had or consciously desired genital sexual experience with another woman". Rich's proposal attracted considerable interest, partly because, by naturalizing lesbianism and seeing it as routine, ordinary, and pervasive, it turns the tables on the naturalization of heterosexuality, and partly because some feminist and lesbian critics find it oversimplifying. They fear that it desexualizes lesbianism or mutes its specificity." (How To Interpret Literature, Robert Dale Parker, pg. 206)

Let's stop here for a moment. The phrasing of "woman identified experience" can be traced to the 1970s essay "The Woman-Identified-Woman" by The Radicalesbians. It's a good essay and is available online for free. It basically means solidarity between women outside of relations to men. A continuum has two ends. Exclusively woman-identified experience is one of them. No woman-identified experience is on the other end. Back to Parker.

"Rich's concept of a lesbian continuum has what the literary critic and queer studies scholar Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick called a universalizing implication. That is, it can apply to all women. (...) A minoritizing view (...) identifies queer or homosexual people as a minority. (...) At various points, according to the needs of the movement, the same people might adopt either a minoritizing or universalizing view.

Either view can be and often is used to defend or attack queer desire. From the minoritizing view, queer people might look like a minority that deserves respect--or, to some people, like one that deserves rejection. From the universalizing view, queer people mightbe anyone, and so deserve respect-- or, to some people, they might be anyone, and so all people need to look at others, and at themselves, with suspicion. Under policies that discriminate against queer people in housing or employment, for example, queer people are a minority with a distinct identity. Whether they participate in same-sex erotic acts or not, then can be denied an apartment or a job in the military or the classroom because of their orientation.

By contrast, under laws that make certain sexual acts, such as so-called sodomy, illegal, the act is the crime, not the identity. Such laws have a universalizing dimension, because any people who commit the act might be criminalized, regardless of how they understand their identity. To notice that distinction, however, is to observe, deconstructively, a Foucauldian distance between acts and identity. It means that acts are not a reliable signifier of a signified identity. That is, some people who identify as heterosexual are not sexually active or engage in (or have engaged in) same-sex erotic acts" (How To Interpret Literature, Robert Dale Parker, pg. 207)

We're not arguing on this point. We agree on it. I disagree with you all about the idea that compulsory heterosexuality is the same thing as "comphet".

See point #2. I'm going to ignore the rest of your attacking comments about my sexuality. I don't know anything about Sheila Jeffreys (?) so I'm not going to speak to that. Adrienne Rich's essay is not political lesbian shit. I don't know if she argues for that in other published work. Please link me to it if so. Regardless, that has nothing to do with compulsory heterosexuality and I don't like that so many of you are disregarding useful theory when you obviously don't have the understanding of it that you claim.

Actually read the shit you're talking about. It's useful. It's actually a pleasant experience to read theory. Don't keep conflating a useful term with its bastardization.

Also u dont understand adrienne rich whatsoever lol her idea of a lesbian continuum doesnt mean that she thinks "exclusively female attracted female" (or what we would call a lesbian) doesn't exist she conceptualized that as a response to heteronormativity and the idea that heterosexuality is a default. it's basically turning that on its head and centering lesbianism as a default. its a universalising and not minoritizing view of sexuality which is sooooo scary to people like u because u have no idea what essentialist and constructivist thought is and u piss yourselves if u have to open a dictionary. I dont even disagree with 90% of the things you say here please keep reading and if you are reading please try some better comprehension strategies. Jesus

Anyway comphet isn’t real. Go fuck yourself <3

[tteokdoroki]

waves that hurt | k.bakugou + i.midoriya.

♡ pairing: katsuki bakugou x gn!reader x izuku midoriya.

♡ word count: 3.04K

♡ rating: everyone.

♡ genre: pro hero!au, hurt, angst and comfort.

♡ summary: dark days mean dark waves that crash across your mind, intrusive and mean the waves pull you under— but they are the helping hands that pull you up and let you breathe.

♡ warning(s): please read ! heavy tw for depression, intrusive thoughts and self depreciation, self doubt and low self-worth. this fic is written mostly from personal experiences and may not be accurate to how everyone feels! mentions of therapy.

♡ author’s note(s):  this is my contribution to @doinmybesthere​ ‘s mental health awareness collab, this is kinda personal to me and something i experienced recently!! i hope it can provide some comfort to anyone out there, please don’t forget to check out everyone else’s works and i hope you’re all safe ‘n well <3

♡ masterlist | requests | kofi

“kacchan, it’s much worse this time, i really think you should come home early tonight.”

deku whispers into the phone, his marred hands rub slow and soothing circles into your back from over the duvet— you can feel his warmth, light and airy through it but he feels and sounds much further away. a million miles across a dark ocean that trickles through your thoughts, intrusive and mean, keeping you under and away from clear air.

you wouldn’t want to pull him into this, bother him with the way you drown in dark thoughts— so you pull away from your boyfriend and tuck yourself away into the sheets.

izuku doesn’t retract his hand even as you pull away, listening to katsuki grunt orders down the phone— make sure yn’s eaten, make sure yn’s had water. basic things you should be able to do on your own but can’t, paralysed by the anxiety and depression that clamps down on you like a vice and refuses to let you up so you can just breathe. you want to breathe and not feel like the world is crashing down on you, to have a second to yourself where everything seems like it’s okay.

brushing fingers over the nape of your neck, toying with the coils of your baby hairs, your boyfriend speaks, only gently. “baby,” says quietly, his weight causing the bed to dip. “katsuki will be home soon, do you want to come with me to let him in?” you shrug, a sick feeling twisting in your gut. you see the black tendrils and waves in the back of your mind, bringing forth a new batch of ugly words that force you down. are you really that much of a burden these days that katsuki has to call it quits on work for you? “how are you feeling?”

you don’t know, you don’t know how to tell him that every thought you have hurts and there’s a pain in your chest with every breath you take. “i don’t know, it’s just...bad izu…” you want to explain how you feel deep inside, but the words are trapped like balls of tar in your throat— fear that if you say something he’ll walk away.

“you don’t have to say anything, don’t force yourself to…” he speaks with a soft voice, cotton to your ears in an attempt to soothe you. you can just about feel the clean air flowing through your lungs at the sound— it tells you he loves you, no matter what and you almost believe it before sinking back under. “let’s get you some water okay? wouldn’t want kacchan scolding us would we?”

the joke hangs in the murky and heavy air for a few seconds before you muster a small smile— your green haired boyfriend lets out a tiny sigh of relief and pressed a kiss into your hairline, the affection simmers under your skin and briefly brings light to your dark mind as izuku starts leading you to the kitchen.

you’re curled up in izuku’s lap when the front door pops open with a click— signifying your other boyfriend had arrived home. you flinch, hiding yourself in the blankets keeping you warm and locking away the dark thoughts from the eyes of your lovers.

part of you hated them seeing you this way, that’s why you forced yourself to keep everything away from them— but they knew, they always did and always came to your rescue. you didn’t want them to feel like they had to look after you when the days were bad and draining and your mind took hold of everything that you felt. you didn’t need the weight of your own problems on the shoulders of two pro heroes who had enough to deal with.

in the end, you would destroy them like you did with yourself.

you can hear katsuki shedding his gear by the door, feeling his intense and heated presence flood the room and barely penetrate the barrier you created for yourself even while you lay in izuku’s arms. for as long as you’d known the two— even from back in your U.A days, bakugou had hated self-pity, of course in recent years he’d cooled down a little and spoke less on the actions of others but even still, you weren’t sure if you could handle him looking down on you for looking down on yourself and for feeling this way.

the blanket is suddenly lifted from your head, momentarily blinding you with the overwhelming light that is your boyfriend, katsuki bakugou. a twinkle of concern lines his ruby eyes and you can see traces of his charcoal eyeliner that he usually smudges underneath his mask— he’s so beautiful but you’re afraid of the twitches of worry, afraid that he’s mad at you for being the way you are.

“hey honey,” bakugou hums, crouching to your level to cup your cheeks, stress bleeding from his body when you nuzzle into him.

izuku gives you a squeeze, an encouraging one and you nod. “hi,” is all you can muster, afraid of blurting the intrusive words that crackle across your brain.

katsuki sits back on his haunches, looking between you and his boyfriend before he attempts to kick off his shoes. the room is full of a thick, ugly quietness that you know you’re responsible for— they don’t have to say anything, you know that it’s you. because when you’re like this it’s hard for bakugou and midoriya to talk, afraid that they’ll say something to set you off and you afraid that they’ll leave if they knew how you really felt. how trapped and alone you felt inside, how the twisted darkness added tones to your vibes and dragged you down with every step that you took.

they don’t need to say it because it flows from your body like a rushing river and drowns them, fills their lungs and it’s your fault for infecting them with your own bitter taste of life.

“have you eaten?” the blonde of the two boys asks, looking you dead in the eye. you want to answer, but again the viscous back from earlier starts to flood through your body. you try to take care of yourself of these days where you feel it the hardest, but it’s difficult to move and to breathe— and the drive to complete even the simplest of tasks is barely ever there.

you move to speak, caught up in the thick smog of your own brain when izuku gives your body a squeeze and shakes his head, the forest of his hair brushing against your cheek. “you’ve had water, right?” izuku has no problem answering for you. “but nothing to eat,” he whispers, keeping his voice low as if to hide his worry from you— it’s light in his tone but tremors throughout the number one’s body. you feel sick for making him feel that way.

katsuki’s gaze shifts back from his boyfriend to you, his expression unreadable because he knows how you get if they worry too much about you. you’re thankful, partly for that at least, his blank face prevents your mind from reading too deep into things and blaming yourself for things out of your own control.

“‘m makin’ your favourite for dinner. you’ll eat it, no questions asked.” the explosive pro hero states firmly, rising from his place crouched down by your side, obviously not before thumbing over your cheeks to wipe away evidence of your dried tears. “gonna run you a bath too, damn nerd better get you upstairs and ready by the time it’s done.” deku’s chest rumbles with a light hearted chuckle beneath you, lifting the heavy weight of the air within the room— bakugou had always loved brashly, with a fiery intensity that hardly left room for the answer ‘no’, and while izuku was more tame, they balanced one another out in a way that felt more like a warm hug than a battle. they grounded you, in the best of ways.

true to his disgruntled words, your blonde headed boyfriend runs you a hot bath. you don’t miss the addition of lavender oil to the perfectly warm water, the baking soda which you’re sure he only knew to add because his mother had said it would remove the demon spawn toxins in his body. izuku is the one to help you strip, holds your hands as you kick off gross comfort clothes and folds them away, after pressing kisses to your groggy face and chin.

it’s almost funny to see the two biggest and beefiest pro heroes sit on your bathroom floor crossed legged and beside the tub— both of them taking up the majority of the room. you know for a fact that no one would believe the sight unless they saw it, but they’re there. both of them, izuku midoriya and bakugou katsuki are with you encompassed in the silence while you wash away the ugly words that plague your mind and fill the pores of your skin.

they’re still there.

even as sweet lavender water moves in soft waves over your bare body, while black ink moves in the same way across your brain— tattooing self-depreciating thoughts into every inch. you’re not worth their time, they say, you’re wasting it. because how could their precious time be put to good use if you’re taking it up, they could be saving people but instead your boyfriends are here, drowning in your own darkness.

they’re still fucking here.

when they could be out there saving the people who needed it, who were suffering out there in the world outside of your home.

and the suds against your body, the warm water sloshing over your thighs isn’t enough to get rid of the burning sensation of vile phrases printing themselves against your body and clouding every thought that you think. toxic, mean and nasty things you can’t scrub away— none of it is enough to make you feel like you deserve bakugou tenderly lathering you up with the rose scented soap his mother had sent you for christmas or the sips of cool water midoriya brings to your lips in order to prevent you from overheating in the steam of the bathroom.

deku catches the painful twist in your face, pausing his movements to study you. “whaddya need?” you need it to stop, to find something to replace the pain and doubts that fill you.

“water, hotter,” you croak quietly, tears building up in the base of your throat as katsuki catches on and flicks the tap for a stream of hot water to fill the tub. “please,”

they tell you to let them know when to stop if the heat gets too much, but the scalding water burns away any reminders of the self loathing you feel across every inch of your mind, your body and your soul. it stings at the darkness in a way that’s painfully soothing and maybe if you sink under— it could stop hurting completely. if you could slide deeper into the water, would the waves of darkness not crash so hard?

and then the damn breaks, like a tsunami the guilt and anguish you feel crashes over your body and takes control, leaving you fighting for oxygen in the form of your happiness.

everything that you’d been holding back flows freely in salty tears from tired eyes, scorching a path down the apples of your cheeks and mingling with the contents of the tub below. your boys, they don’t notice at first, how you cry and curl in on yourself until you think the world won’t notice you anymore but then just as they always do, they’re pulling you into their warmth and bubble of light— freeing you from black intrusive tendrils even if it means they have to crawl into the tub and wade their through the ocean you’ve made to set yourselves apart.

“don’t—!” you heave with an uneven voice, signs of you falling apart evident in every way. bakugou and deku pull away from you slowly, with dripping shirts and worry written across freckled faces and red eyes. they’re scared for you, hate seeing you force your feelings down and away from them. “please don’t touch me—you’ll—“

the water in the bathtub sloshes from where you retract from their touch, backing yourself up against the wall and away from your boys. “we’ll what?” izuku presses but only gently, keeping you afloat, stopping you from sinking and bakugou stays put in his place, letting the latter talk you down.

you shake your head, trying to think of the right words but it’s hard to, with the crashing waves heavy against your ears. how do you tell your lovers that everything hurts, to think and to feel, to live day by day. you don’t want to bother them with and an extra stress to their busy lives. but you can’t keep it in any longer, bursting at the seams. “you’ll drown. i-if i touch you, i’ll pull you under, you’ll drown with me and you won’t be able to breathe and all those horrible things that i think about will burn in your lungs until you give up fighting like me,” your tears and hiccups interrupt your words, but they listen. bakugou and deku, they listen and they stay.

“yn—“

“because if you do, then all that i feel will be a burden to you— i’ll break in ways that can’t be fixed and you’ll be forced to pick up the pieces and i’ll just be a burden,” you continue, not even pausing to take a breath while you continue to cry. “if you stay to pick up the pieces, you’ll be taken away from people who need you, who are worth saving, and can be helped and—“

you can’t recount how many nights, similar to this in which you wondered why and how two pro heroes could want and love you, why they dealt with your down days that sometimes outnumbered the ups— even if they’d shown you how much they cared, you couldn’t help but feel guilty as if your sadness took up their time to save someone else.

“you can be helped, yn. you don’t have to go what you’re going through alone, you’re worth the time and the effort of helping, no one deserves to suffer,” the green haired of your two boyfriends cuts through the tail ends of your words, still keeping distance until he knows it’s safe to touch you again. there is no look of condescending pity on his face, no sign to show you’ve pulled him into the dark of your mind. it’s just izuku, trying to help you pull through.

you look to katsuki hesitantly, he hasn’t said a word. “but i don’t want to be seen as...as weak, or to worry you because i can’t get out of my own head—“

“y’not fuckin’ weak, we’d never think that of you. we see you try to hide your pain, pretend things don’t get to you when they do. but fuckin’ handlin’ things on ya own can make y’stronger than any two heroes combined,” a look of anger flashes across his features, finer with age and tired with work. but bakugou isn’t angry with you, but with himself for leading you to believe that you were an extra weight on his shoulders. both of their shoulders. “yer not gonna get rid of us or scare us away, we love ya, we’re here for ya ‘n if it’s help that you need or think yer not worthy of, we’ll find some. it’s okay t’ask for help.”

maybe it’s hearing it from someone else, that your pain and your depression is valid, that you’re not an extra weight on the people you love that allows you to come up from a tar-like ocean for fresh air in your lungs, for the waves to calm and the storm raging in your mind to soothe. maybe it’s the two of your boyfriends being there for you despite the fear that you’d scare them away with not being okay that washes away some of the awful things you think.

you know that their support won’t make things go away over night, that it will take time for you to heal but for now you can keep your head above the water just long enough to breathe.

“can i touch you now? is it okay?” deku asks, feeling less distant from you than at the start of the day, but as your body shakes with the last of your tears all you manage is a nod before the number one hero is pulling you into his chest from the tub and the number two is wrapping a towel and his arms around you.

you sit sandwiched between the two, they keep you at the surface— holding you tight while you let out what you’ve been holding back. “we can get some help if y’want it, the doctors...therapy might be nerve wrackin’...scary even, but it can help and we’ll be there every single step of the fuckin’ way,” katsuki reasures you with pets to your head, rocking you back and forth on your bathroom floor, steam clinging to the air that you can finally breathe.

izuku nods along in agreement, pressing kisses to your wet hairline. “we’ll be here. you won’t be alone.”

the murkiness of the water in your mind starts to clear, but only just— their warmth starts to push through the clouds like sunshine brushing against your skin. a light to the dark that's plagued your every waking moment, the waves no longer crash and destroy but instead lap comfortingly at your painful thoughts and tame them just enough for you to have a moment of clarity.

you don’t have to be alone or millions of miles away, you deserve the hands of your loved ones that offer you help instead of pushing them away. the process of healing and things like therapy or meds will be hard sometimes, but katsuki and izuku will be here by your side, to help you manage days where darkness rolls in waves that hurt and help you breathe once again.

[spacelazarwolf]

in which i, a queer trans jew, rip a goy a new asshole

hoo boy where the fuck to start.

i’m only addressing this part of this post because i don’t have the energy to discuss the fearmongering that was in the first part. i’m also not linking the original post because 1. it was deleted moments after i asked if you were jewish, which from your phrasing of the post and your reaction to my question i’m assuming you’re not, and 2. i’m hoping you learn from this and never do something like this again.

1. how dare you invoke the holocaust like this.

it’s clear from the way you speak about it that you are not educated enough to talk about this with the sense of authority you seem to have. if the first thing you think of when you think of jews is one of the worst genocides to happen in modern history, then you’re not fucking ready to talk about jews or the holocaust. there were other groups targeted in the holocaust as well, specifically romani people who were part of the ‘final solution’ alongside jews, who are also still being persecuted, but i doubt you even know they exist. you also seem to think that jews only existed in europe or that only jews that lived in europe were affected by the holocaust, but again that’s incorrect. the holocaust was a communal trauma. it affected us all, ashkenazi, sephardi, italki, mizrahi, all across the world we saw what was happening and tried to help our people while the world sat and watched and turned us away. so don’t you fucking dare invoke the holocaust. you do not ‘understand the gravity of such implications’ because if you did you would never have posted this.

2. we are a tiny community that has still not recovered from the atrocity you chose to trivialize

jews make up about 2% of the us population, and about 0.2% of the global population. despite this fact, there are dozens of conspiracy theories saying that we control the world, the weather, the banks, that we’re hellbent on world domination because we are power-hungry vermin that need to be exterminated before we attain that power. we have been persecuted and murdered for centuries because of these conspiracy theories. we have no control or power, but people like you seem to think that we do. calling on us specifically to save you because you think we have some sort of special obligation or special power implies that if we don’t somehow stop what’s happening to trans people (who, by the way, we apparently created as a way to spread degeneracy and destroy good white christian values) that we will be responsible for another holocaust, and i hope you realize how fucking atrocious that is.

3. jews are also in grave fucking danger

but why would you know that? you’ve probably never spoken to a jew intentionally in your life. our elders have been saying for years that this country is slipping into fascism, our entire community has been begging y’all to see what’s happening, but y’all called us sensitive and attention seekers and ‘perpetual victims.’ 

4. as i said before, antisemites already think we created trans people

antisemitism and transphobia are intertwined, but in progressive circles it is very rare to see people advocating for jews. i feel safer in even the most conservative jewish spaces as a queer person than i do in queer spaces as a jew, and i’m not the only one. queer jews have been ejected from queer spaces for simply carrying pride flags with a star of david on them. 

5. we’ve been fighting for you. where the fuck have you been? 

jews are overwhelmingly left leaning in the us. we are very active in social justice movements and have been for decades, and 76% of us support lgbtq+ rights and nondiscrimination legislation. we support reproductive rights, we create summer camps for trans kids, all while it becomes more and more dangerous to exist as a jew in the united states. queer jews have been a foundational part of queer liberation for decades.  

so please fucking spare me the lecture about how, because we were murdered by the millions a couple decades ago, and despite the fact the queer community continues to push us out of queer spaces, we are apparently uniquely responsible for the actions of the same white christofascists who have been targeting us for centuries. do fucking better.

[capricorn-stark]

Protégé

pairing: red hood!jason todd x robin!reader, slow burn 

warning: swearing

a/n: for context, this is somewhat loosely based off of Battle for the Cowl (2009) which I definitely recommend as a read! 

There was something about falling that you would never, ever get tired of. 

Ever. 

Probably.

With the wind whistling in your ears, your hair floating up in a million directions, and your limbs seemingly weightless as the buildings and lights blurred into one endless streak of color, the rush of adrenaline that ran through your body right before your grappling hook shot out and you landed quietly on the concrete was about a million times better than any sparring session back at the cave. 

You grinned as you straightened, rather proud of the fact that you had actually managed to land so smoothly without nearly paralyzing yourself. Again.The landing was something you had been working on for a while now.

You could practically hear Bruce’s voice ringing through your head after your little stunt, lamenting on and on about how you had more important things to focus on during patrols, and you let out a sigh as you ran down the backway of the nearly empty streets. 

The heavy man who had been bound up with a decently made gag and one of Bruce’s fancy tech pieces (Batcuffs, maybe? Something else with Bat smacked in front of it?) grunted beside you. 

“What? Not like you had someplace to be.” You grabbed the back of his rather tacky-looking spandex suit to drag him along back to where your mentor was supposed to be.

Despite your (many) disagreements and his (many) criticisms of your hand-to-hand combat skills, attitude issues, and pretty much everything else relating to you, Bruce had actually still allowed you to go off on your own tonight. It might’ve been because he wanted a few hours of nothing but beating up petty criminals by himself for stress-relief, it might’ve been because he had started trying out that whole independence thing with you a little more (even though you were still only permitted to be about five blocks or so away), it might’ve been plot-convenience - but either way, you appreciated the gesture.

It didn’t take long for you to pull your new friend over to what should’ve been your rendezvous point with Batman, letting the man drop with a dull thud and a grunt of protest against the concrete as you glanced around for the other man. You weren’t particularly concerned by the fact that the Bat himself wasn’t there yet - after all, he was the goddamn Batman. He’d show up eventually. In the meanwhile, you decided to go over the information you had gotten on the criminal with you. 

Just for the sake of it. Bruce would make you go over it anyways.

“Drury Walker, thirty-two years old, found him trying to mug someone in a back alley and make an escape. Called himself…” you paused, looking down at his sorry-looking outfit for a few moments while he looked up at you with murder and vengence in his eyes. “...Killer Moth.”  

“Killer Moth?” A completely new voice repeated in disbelief, causing you to immediately whirl around to face them in a fight stance, heart racing at a million miles per hour. The guy in front of you had his hands up in the air, his face concealed with some sort of red knock-off Iron Man helmet. He was gonna get copyrighted by Marvel Studios. “Shit, sorry,” he started at the sight of you, still leaning up against one of the walls. “I was supposed to make a wholeass dramatic entrance, but you said his name was Killer Moth and that-” The man made a noise that was either a sharp cough or a laugh of some kind. “-sounded so fucking lame I couldn’t help myself.” 

Despite the fact that you were definitely in some sort of major trouble with this new guy, he really did have a point. Even Killer Moth himself would’ve been embarrassed by how trash his name was, if not for the fact that he looked like he was on the verge of an aneurysm - understandably so, since the new guy had produced not one, but two guns out of apparently nowhere. 

“And let me guess,” he continued, pointing one of them at your head, his tone still all-too light and easy. “You must be the Bat’s brand-new Robin.” 

Now this is where most people would've shut up and proceeded to be complicit with the dude holding two guns. But Batman hadn’t seen reason and made you his (sort of) partner because you were like other people. Hell no.

“Do I look like a traffic signal to you?” It had been the very first of your amendments with Bruce. You would not be fighting crime looking like a literal traffic signal or, at best, a clown from Haly’s Circus. And the tiny green shorts had to go. “Or Robin Hood?” The guy had a rather awkward pause where his gun sort of dipped. Killer Moth was looking between you with wide eyes. “Do I?” 

“I guess you kinda got a point.” You huffed and he raised his gun again, getting more in-your-face as his already angry-looking helmet somehow managed to look angrier. You weren’t exactly sure how a helmet could convey so much emotion. “But you work with Batman. And I heard you went by Robin.” 

Okay, so you couldn’t make him change the name, but you had agreed it would be more of an honorary thing.

“It’s complicated.” 

Using such a phrase as an excuse to escape from situations you didn’t want to go into was one of the many things you had learned from Bruce in your five months of training. Somehow, that seemed to trigger the guy further.

“So you do work with Batman.” 

Before he could do something actually insane, you had managed to push the gun pointed at your head away from you, using his brief second of surprise to take it out of his hands, kick him in the chest, and round back on him with it in hand. 

“And what about it?” 

As cool as you thought you might’ve sounded didn’t cover for the fact that you were still nerve-wracked about what was happening right then. Especially after the guy started to dramatically slow-clap like some sort of evil thespian in a high school drama. 

“Not bad, Robin. Not bad.” He looked at the gun in your hands and grinned. “If you weren’t Batman’s new replacement sidekick, I might’ve believed you had the balls to use that thing.” 

Now, you were an excellent fighter. You had to be, after your excessive training with the guy who had literally mastered about every martial art in existence during his (give or take) five year-long mission to find himself. Plus, some personal experience. But fighting someone like this guy? Built like a tank and padded up in a whole lot of armor and packing an assortment of knives, guns, and even a damn taser you got a first-hand taste of?

You fought hard, but about five minutes and another round of the taser later, you saw the knock-off Iron Man helmet staring down at you before the world went black.

~*~

You woke up in what you assumed was the self-dubbed Red Hood’s safehouse of sorts. 

“How the hell did he rope you into this shit?” he demanded with what you could only assume was him glaring at you through the helmet. Probably some expression that made someone look all angsty and annoyed - which was fair, since he had been trying to drill you for information you straight up refused to give while bound (way too tightly) to a chair for quite some time now. Rather rude. “Let me guess. You watched your parents die.” You stared at him before shrugging.

“Nope.”

“Oh, so they just went ahead and died somehow. Untimely accident caused by some psycho bitch in a Spirit Halloween costume.”

“…nope.” 

“They abandoned you as a child.”

“No, they didn’t - does divorce count?” 

Red Hoodlum’s hands kept clenching and unclenching while he stood there, staring at the wall behind you in silence. From the way his chest kept rising and falling, you were tempted to believe he was practicing breathing exercises amidst his rather violent twitching. 

“Divorce - what the hell is your trauma supposed to be? Why did he pick you?!”

“Hey, just because my trauma doesn’t include people dying doesn’t make it any less traumatic,” you scoffed in response, knowing you were absolutely right about that. Your middle school guidance counselor had said so (and it’s true, ladies and gentlemen, trauma comes in many forms!). “Kinda rude to assume it didn’t affect me somehow.”

He seemed rather abashed at that and you heard him clear his throat a little. 

“...right, yeah. Sorry.”

“Apology accepted - can you loosen these ropes a little? It’s starting to kinda hurt.” 

“Do I look ten? That’s the oldest trick in the book, I’m not gonna-”

“I’m not going to run, just loosen the ropes a little.” He still looked like he didn’t believe you. “Come on, I don’t think I can outrun your guns.” As in his literal array of guns tacked up to the wall behind him, not his gigantic biceps. 

And you weren’t too worried about being held hostage by him, either. You figured you had ten minutes tops before Batman burst in through the doorway, ready to give you a lecture on why straying from the specifically designated parts of Gotham he had let you traipse around was a terribly stupid idea. 

“No.” He was already walking towards the door, because apparently, he had enough of trying to interrogate you. 

“Hold on, I feel like my wrists are actually about to start bleeding or something - where are you going?”

“Keep talking and I’m gonna get the duct tape.” 

“Is that a threat?” Sounding more confident than you actually felt should eventually make you more confident. Eventually. 

The Red Hood sucked in a breath, stopping by the doorway and turning to face you, reaching into his pockets to get what you assumed was either a gun or duct tape when you both startled from a sudden crash. The man in front of you was already whirling around with two guns positioned to shoot when you heard the familiar voice of someone else.

“Hold your fire, soldier. I’m not here for you.” A pause. “Or I wasn’t, but now I kind of am.”

Apparently, Batman was too busy to save you. Now, you got Nightwing. 

And as much as you liked Nightwing, that still kinda stung. 

[cryinginthefkncorner]

You: medical food shortage (thicken liquids edition) exists

Commenters: yeah, I noticed this too when trying to meet my own/ a loved ones needs. I figured out that I could do XYZ as an alternative if I can’t find the name brand stuff

You: FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU, HOW DARE YOU TRY TO SUGGEST AN ALTERNATIVE OR ANOTHER PLACE TO FIND WHAT I NEED. HOW DARE YOU TRY TO HELP ME YOU ABLEIST, YOUR AN ABLEIST AND A (long line of misogynistic slurs).

Commenters: what part about suggesting alternatives is ableist?

You: FUCK YOU (misogynistic slur), YOU PROBABLY HATE DISABLED PEOPLE, I KNOW YOU DO, YOU HATE WORKING WITH US BECAUSE (long line of hurtful descriptions of other peoples patients/loved ones/their own disability status showing the need to work through internalized ableism). EAT SHIT AND DIE.

Commenters: can you please just tell me what I did wrong without (putting words I never said in my mouth, implying I’m not disabled after I told you I have similar disability issues, etc.) and without calling me ableist and misogynistic things please?

You: IM GOING TO KMS BECAUSE OF YOU, IM GOING TO SCREAM ABOUT MY SUICIDAL IDEATION AND HOW YOUR MAKING ME WANT TO HURT MYSELF SO YOU FEEL GUILTY.

Commenter: I’m not going to enable this behavior anymore by responding, we’re obviously not having a productive conversation. You keep putting me/my loved ones down, we offered temporary solutions but you said that was ableist for some reason, and then refused to elaborate on why trying to help you is actually a bad thing. I recommend you log off/ stop going on tumblr if your mental health is actually this bad from someone attempting to help.

Anyone can go into the comments section on that post and see the reality of what happened.

Im pointing this out as a someone with neurological disabilities that affect mobility and swallowing as well. A lot of medical supplies have shortages atm, it sucks, but maybe if someone is offering you a solution you should at least look to see if it’s a possibility. They wouldn’t be giving you a potential solution if they actually hated you or didn’t want you to have rights.

Yes there were some ableist phrases being used, yea there were people who poorly worded things, yes there was straight up ableism from one reblog, but it was made a million times worse by how your response was to cuss, use misogynistic slurs, put words into people’s mouths, vocalize your internalized ableism, act as if someone relating to your issues was ableism somehow, shit on people in long term care facilities, and threaten suicide as a guilt trip.

I was going to reblog your psa but decided against it, one because of your reaction to responses that weren’t 110% what you wanted, and two because I’m questioning the legitimacy of the “tiktok slime trend” claim.

I agree that there is a shortage of medical supplies including thickened water and food, and that able-bodied people should not buy it for shits and giggles, but upon my own research (which everyone should do) I found only two videos on tiktok that actually used thick-it water as a slime ingredient, one was from 2021, and one was from last year. Two videos from years past does not a trend make.

If you have proof that this is an actual current and ongoing trend I’d love to see it, even if it’s just a screenshot of more recent videos using thickened water.

I’m also wondering if your confusing regular “water slime” (which doesn’t use thickened water) as the same thing in the two videos I mentioned. I would’ve asked on the actual post but I’m sure that would’ve just lead to me being accused of ableism without any further explanation.

Of course, though, I also expect a response of screaming, cussing, slurs, and inaccurately labeling me an “ableist” for pointing out your reactions are inappropriate in my inbox.

I’m sorry your obviously hurting, I’m sorry you think being given potential temporary solutions to your problems until the supply issues is resolved is “ableism”. We live in a world not designed for us, it sucks, but it doesn’t give us the right to treat people like garbage either just because they didn’t fully agree, had questions, or worded something poorly.

At the end of the day I hope you can find some sort of peace, some support IRL, and maybe learn to take a step back or give people the benefit of the doubt when they’re just trying to relate or help every once in awhile.

me: medical food shortage (thickened liquids edition) exists

this person: no it doesn’t. I did a search on tumblr and nobody else is talking about it. so clearly it’s not happening

me: can one of you do the merciful thing and fucking kill me so I don’t have to hear this anymore

[adorethedistance]

9 P.M. - Alive!Luke Patterson x Reader Modern Day!AU

JATP masterlist

Warnings: swearing, mentions of suicide, painful breakup, and angst.

Words: 1991

Summary: Luke breaking up with you made your world stop turning, and when it finally starts moving again after four long months, Luke is back in typical agitator fashion.

A/N: Not requested, and I wrote this in about two hours so bear that in mind. I’ve been toying with an angst idea for a little bit now, and because all of my requests rn are fluff, I decided why not give Luke a little love since it’s been a minute since my last Luke fic. This isn’t proofread so proceed with caution.

“What are you doing here, Luke?” Dana’s voice cuts clear over the mindless chatter in the busy diner. She tucks a stack of menus under her arm to brush a loose strand of sandy blonde hair out of her face.

“I’m here to talk to Y/n. She isn’t returning my calls and she only has her phone on silent when she’s working.”

A solid four months ago, Luke Patterson had broken Y/n Y/l/n’s heart into a couple billion pieces in this very diner. After Luke requested to meet up as soon as possible, Y/n told him she’d be clocking out for the night around 9 PM, and true to his previous request Luke had arrived at 9 on the dot. He considered taking her to his car for more privacy but in fear of forgetting his long, crafted speech, he opted for a secluded booth in the very back corner of her diner.

He still remembers the evening, clear as day. They sat down across from one another on the red vinyl seats with nervous tension exponentially rising between them. He remembers the way she ruffled her loose hair after having it pulled back for an 8-hour shift. He remembers the way she rested her right ankle on her left knee to massage away the calf pain from 8 hours of waiting tables. And he remembers the way her warm smile disappeared after he uttered the words “I think we should break up.”

Y/n was so shocked she couldn’t respond. Everything seemed to be going well between them. They had said their first ‘I love you’s and she had even opened up to the possibility of giving him her virginity. And here he was, a mere week later, claiming that he had fallen out of love with her over the span of a month.

Tears clouded her vision. She was quick to wipe them away before they fell, something Luke noticed that she only did when she was crying out of anger. With her normal sadness or even stress she just lets her emotions run their course. But the anger swelling inside of her at that moment, she so desperately wanted to hide. As a result, she brushed them away. She bit her tongue. She saved face, not wanting to let Luke know just how much he had hurt her.

Luke expected a full-on interrogation. He knew Y/n’s mind was one of insatiable curiosity and she had to have at least a million questions. However, if she did, she didn’t show it. The only question she asked, “Is this really what you want?” Her voice was steady, but Luke knew how badly she wanted to tear him apart, to ravage him right then and there. But after losing such a huge part of herself, Luke, she held onto her dignity so tight it nearly crumbled into dust and blew out of her clenched fingers. Without asking for any more information, she slipped out of the booth and hurried to her car as fast as her walk could take her.

At the time, Luke felt guilty for making her cry. Now he feels guilty for ever having let her believe she wasn’t good enough for him. The only problem is she wouldn’t give him the chance. And her best friend, Dana, didn’t seem like she would give him one either.

“Well, she’s not here. Have you ever considered she’s not returning your calls when she’s off of work, too?”

“Dana, I need to talk to her-”

“What could you possibly have left to say, Luke? Whatever you said to her that night broke her, it absolutely destroyed her. She hasn’t been the same since.” Luke had no trouble believing that was true, which is why it hurt so bad to hear, granted it didn’t hurt as bad as how Y/n felt that night.

“What? No- I-I really need to talk to her.”

“You really don’t.”

“I have to get her back, Dana!” A tornado of shock and anger consumes Dana to the point where all she can do is let out a bitter laugh. The look in Luke’s eyes indicates how hurt he is by her laughter, and Dana’s desire for vengeance has never been so strong. So, she continues to tell the truth. The ferocious, unabridged, hurtful truth,

“You don’t deserve a second chance. You don’t even deserve an attempt at a second chance. Knowing her, Y/n would never tell you this, but I will: you fucked up so bad, you made her almost make the biggest mistake of her life.”

“What?” Luke almost hesitates to ask, knowing he won’t like the answer.

“That night, she came to my place and cried so hard for three hours before she could even get a coherent word out. She stayed with me for three days and, had my shift not ended early that Tuesday, she wouldn’t be alive today.” The dumbstruck look on Luke’s face is only more motivation for Dana to twist the knife, “She almost didn’t survive losing you, Luke. And god forbid she gives you a second chance because she won’t survive losing you again.”

The diner is just crowded enough that no one is paying the two of them any mind as they faceoff by the hostess stand. Dana spent four long months consoling her best friend back to life, and she was not about to let Luke destroy all the hard work Y/n had put into healing.

“I can make this right.”

“How could you possibly make this right?”

“I know more now than I did before. I’ve changed!”

“So has she.” Dana’s biting words render Luke speechless. Once she realizes her work here is done, she continues setting up tables as they’re disinfected.

__________________________

Luke’s conversation with Dana in the diner left him shellshocked, but it also lit a fire under his ass that he needed to move forward. Rather than discouraging him, Dana’s words gave him a greater incentive to win her back: proof that he was willing to do what he said he would. At least, that’s what Luke told himself. Rather than stepping into the future with greater clarity, Luke went into the world with confidence so large and blinding, his actions may sabotage his true intentions.

That’s how he found himself so determined to win Y/n back. And that’s how he found himself face to face with the front door of her home. It’s 9 PM, just early enough to where she’d be home for the day, just early enough to where she wouldn’t be asleep, and hauntingly just the exact time he had broken her heart all those months ago. Before giving his conviction a chance to back out, he was raising a steady hand to ring the doorbell of her residence.

Y/n opened the door without much thought, expecting a food delivery; she was drastically off-put by Luke’s presence at her doorstep this late.

“Oh.” Was the only response manageable for the tired waitress.

“Hi. Can we talk?”

There it was. The phrase that was a paradoxical toss-up regarding her emotional state. Half of her has been waiting for this day for so long, dreaming of the boyfriend she once knew to come genuinely heartbroken and remorseful to win her back. The other half was terrified of this impending day as she realized she wasn’t nearly as emotionally strong enough to handle the situation as she thought. 

‘Oh’ was the only response manageable for the tired waitress.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please just give me five minutes and if you never want to hear from me for the rest of your life, I’ll never bother you again,” he rushes out, knowing his time is finite. For what short period of time he thought it over, Luke always imagined pouring his heart out on her front doorstep. That’s why her silent sidestep and opening of the door caught him so off guard. He hadn’t anticipated her to actually give him a decent chance. Why would she? He broke up with her in the very diner she works in full time and crushed her heart so completely, the only things left behind had to be contempt and resentment.

Luke crossed the threshold of her small, cramped LA home with his heart on his sleeve. Reluctantly closing the door behind him, Y/n walks to her living room and sits on the couch amidst a mess of popcorn, her favorite chocolates, used tissues, and a bottle of Advil. The night Luke broke up with Y/n was four months ago and she’s still spending her Friday nights alone crying on her couch with a rom-com on the tv. A sharp pang of guilt cuts through Luke’s chest like a machete and his previous confidence completely dissipates into sadness. Though, he can’t tell if it’s actually remorse or just general pity.

“What did you want to talk about?” Y/n asks as if she doesn’t know what conversation they’re about to have. Luke takes a deep breath to prepare himself as best as he can before explaining what’s been on his mind.

“I am so sorry, Y/n.” His hopes for any sort of reaction are crushed once her blank stare doesn’t waver. In spite of everything that’s happened thus far, this is the moment Luke realizes this would be a lot more difficult than he anticipated. “That night, you asked if taking a break from… us was what I really wanted.”

“I remember.”

“I said yes and you left right after that. I know you’ve blocked my socials, but you haven’t blocked my calls, you just don’t answer. I’m sure you’ve got to be interested in why, you’re a very curious person.”

Luke wasn’t wrong there, Y/n had been wondering why. She had been wondering why since the words left his mouth that night, but she repressed that curiosity. She repressed it because she knew that whatever the answer was, it didn’t make any difference. Luke wasn’t hers to have anymore and that was what really mattered.

“I did it because I thought I was falling out of love with you.”

“You thought?”

“I wasn’t actually falling out of love with you.”

“You weren’t?”

“No.”

“Then why’d you break it off?”

“I thought I was falling out of love with you but really my attraction was just changing. Instead of just spontaneous and passionate and exciting, I began to see our relationship as comforting and secure as well as those other things. I thought my comfortability was falling out of love, but really, I was falling in love. I was no longer just super infatuated with you, I was in love with you. Genuine love.”

“Luke…” Y/n trails off. She has no real idea of what it is she’s thinking so she opts to let Luke continue until she can figure it out.

“I love you, Y/n. And I broke things off because, before you, I didn’t understand love. Hell, with you I didn’t understand it was love, but now I do! I love you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“So, what does this all mean?” Luke draws in a nervous breath, identical to the one he used to soothe his nerves as he stepped into the all-too-familiar house.

“I know I don’t deserve it because of what I put you through… but all I’m asking is for a chance to prove that I really do love you.” The looking shimmering across Y/n’s eyes tells Luke how her thoughts are running wild. She’s experiencing a new train of thought at a mile a minute and it terrifies both of them.

“You hurt me, Luke. And I want to hate you so much for everything that you put me through, but I don’t, and I hate myself for that. But, I’m sorry. I can’t give you a second chance.”

***

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13​ @kaitlyn2907​ @itz-jas​ @crybabyddl​ @kcd15​ @kinda-really-lost​ @calamitykaty​ @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever​ @dream-a-little-bigger-x​ @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys​ @amazinggracy​ @kaitieskidmore1​ @asdfghjkl-fanfics​ @ghostlygreenbean​ @juliefromaustralia @merceret​ @jemimah-b99​ @ifilwtmfc​ @thesweetestsinner​ @imsydneywalker​ @lovesanimals​ @thebloodthirstyvampress​ @bumbleberry-pie​ @losers-club6​ @tefilovesreading​ @dmcfarland1​@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz​ @talk-on-the-street​ @phantompogues​ @konciousdreamer​ @sunsetcurvej​ @warmnesss0ul​

[xavadak3davrax]

Crisis of lust /George Weasley

Lawyer!George

Summary: Fred and George are the most powerful lawyers England has seen in years and y/n is fresh out of college and looking for a place to do her internship. What happens when George decides to hire her? A lot of things.

Warnings: Smut (18+), daddy kink, dom/sub (Dom George) and if you squint very much dom y/n for mere seconds. Spanking, female receiving oral, male receiving oral, unprotected sex (because somehow I find that hot lol).  There’s angst and fluff and mentions of things such as anxiety and more sad moments but nothing extreme!

a/n: this is lawyer George, it’s 11.7 k words. I got carried away and ended up making this in only one part aha. As always English in not my first language, any mistakes or wrongly worded phrases, please excuse me. Titles are not my thing so yeah this is just horrendous. As a lot of people around tumblr say: don’t be shy, reblog! Thank you so much to everyone who even takes time to read my stuff. Love you all!

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Weasley’s Law Firm was the most famous law firm in whole England. They were known for hiring the best of the best. They also got the worse of the cases there is. Fred and George worked extremely hard on those cases and that’s what got them where they are today. Every murder case there was they were the first, people came to.

They had all the knowledge, all the experience, all the fame. Although they started small, they very quickly became who they are today because they are that good. Now both of them only take on the biggest cases and usually they came from very famous people, otherwise they keep themselves busy by taking their firm a step further.

While Fred was busy working on a case from a famous singer who was now being accused of murdering his wife and a whole lot of love affairs in between, George was working on another very important thing.

Interns. Every year their firm hired at least two interns. Becoming an intern for them was extremely difficult, and the skills required were almost never met (reason why they either ended up with one intern, or none at all). The type of work they needed from them was not fetching coffee or take some copies of some documents. They required their help all the time and their knowledge. Last year they had taken two, top of the class and they showed to be so good they recommended them to another very good law firm that took them in that moment. How could they not? Coming from the Weasley Firm they were the best of the best.

This year however things were proven to be a lot more difficult. It looked like anyone wanted to join them, people with so little qualification that George wondered how they even met the requirements to apply to their firm. Universities usually advised certain students, who they knew not to be good, or had the necessary demands, to just not attempt their chance at it.

George’s headache was even stronger now, and it only had been two hours since he started.

“Mate need your help.” Fred’s voice took him out of his trance and made him look at his brother. George nodded and Fred put the documents on his secretary. Pointed with his head towards them and George picked them up and had a look.

“Oh shit.” George said, laughing a little loudly. “She was involved with his assistant. That does make him suspicious. Finds out his wife his sleeping with his assistant, feels betrayed, takes his chance when she’s in the pool, makes it look like an accident.” George looked at his brother who nodded.

“I mean yeah, but to confirm that theory we need acces to the cameras he has displayed around his house. He’s been refusing that since the beginning, told him how that makes him a suspicious and that he should just give us those, since we’re trying to help him not get convicted. Any advice?”

“Ginny is very good with persuasion, maybe we should give her a call? She’s always our best chance.” George suggested, and when Fred widen his eyes, he knew he had had a brilliant idea.

“Yeah thanks mate. I will. By the way still looking for interns?” Fred nodded to the papers in front of him. He had to look through every curriculum.

“Yes, this year is proving to be hard. Everyone thinks they can get in, almost everyone had a bad average grade.” He brough his hands to his red bright hair and pulled at his hard, letting a groan leave his mouth. “Can’t take this shit anymore.”

Fred came around the secretary and leaned down next to him to get a better look at the people he was looking at. All of sudden his hand came to the table and pointed at girl. “Look, she finished top of her class, with 20.” George opened his eyes and looked at where he was pointing.

“How did I miss her?” it came out in a whisper, only because George was a little loss at her beauty. Sure he had seen a lot of beautiful girl applying to his firm, and he had a lot of them working for them, but he never saw anyone like her.

He tried to pull if thought out that. She was no minor, after all she had finished college and was looking for a place to do her internship at, but that didn’t mean it would not be wrong.

“I don’t know, but you did. And let’s look at the rest…” Fred said in a wondering voice his finger coming over the list of names. “You also have, his name is Elias, he’s in the same situation as y/n.” He looked at his brother, then got up from the crouched position he was in. “You were making a big fuss. I mean I clearly understand your point, besides these two no one else is even close. But I found you the interns. I have to do your job and mine.” He joked in the end earning from George a punch in his arm. That made Fred groan.

“Go on about your day asshole, I will take care of the rest. But thanks for the help.” George screamed the last part a little because Fred was already exiting the door and closing her.

So George arranged his secretary so the only things in front of him was y/n’s and Elias resumes and applications so he could read them and actually decide if they were to be hired or not. And if yes proceed to send an email to them to tell them the news.

Some people might think they would prefer to give this job to their secretaries and let them do this. But one year they did that, and ended up with some of the worse people they could find, just didn’t know how to do the simplest of jobs. It might sound mean, but they had a reputation to maintain.

So every year they alternated had to who had this job. This year it had been him. And after an hour of so of reading everything, he did decide to hire them. So he proceed to write their acceptance email.

⚘

y/n was sitting in her sofa, a tub of her favorite ice cream in her hand. She was in her last week of collage (ever) and she was patiently waiting to receive any type of email from the firm she had applied to do her internship.

She would be lying also if she said she hadn’t receive some emails already accepting her. The problem? Well they were all last options, those were she said to herself ‘if I don’t get in it I will need something to cushion the fall’ her mother had told her that expression and it stuck with her to this day.

y/n really, really wanted to work for The Weasleys. They were the best of the best, everyone was racing to get a place in their firm. She wanted to be confident, with her grades how could she not? But she also knew a lot of people were had good has her, she for sure would be competing with the best of the best.

She was close to answering one of the emails of the firms she already got an email from.

She sighed. Looked at the pot of ice cream and then got up to go get her computer. When she had it she came back to the sofa and slumped on the couch and groaned quietly. That stupid horrid anxious feeling coming down on her. Every time for the last few days when she was to open her pc that’s how she felt. That desire to see an email from that firm.

When she opened it for a few seconds she didn’t get any notifications.

“Fucking stupid computer.” She muttered, sometimes her pc didn’t connect to the Wi-Fi and she hated that. Because then she would get millions of notifications that she didn’t get because she wasn’t connected. But it connected a few seconds later and she was flooded with messages.

In between all of those if she wasn’t paying any attention she would’ve missed it, probably deleted it too. The email she was so dreading. She didn’t know how they worked. Did they sent an email if you didn’t get in? or did they just sent if you got in? some firms would do both. Not that y/n had gotten any, every single one was accepting her and very eager to work with her.

With trembling fingers, and her breath caught in her throat she open the email, but closed her eyes quickly before she could read what it said.  

“breath, everything is going to be ok. Even if you don’t get in, you have a lot of other option.” She pepped talked herself, and then after what felt like an eternity to compose herself, opened her eyes and started reading.

Her mouth moved but no sound came out as she read through every word. The words “congratulations” “we’ve accepted you” “we wait for your response for further meetings” making her mind go dizzy. And then a scream left her lips.

“I got in, Oh my god I got in.” She almost threw her computed on the ground from how happy she was. Every night she didn’t sleep, every night out she had denied her friends, every hour in the library and every cent her parents had spent on her was worth it.

Her parents weren’t rich or even close to it, but they had promised her and her siblings that they would pay for their education until they could. When she had entered the best university and the most expensive she told her parents she would find work and pay for everything. They told her no. Her mom and dad found each a second job and payed for it, even finding a small flat in the middle of nowhere but still close to where she attended, for her to stay in. And now, everything they ever did for her was paying of.

After calming herself down she started to formulate a response to the email. And then proceeded to call her parents, steric and with a smile they were sure they could hear and see from the other side of the phone.

⚘

She started today. Although very happy and grateful for the opportunity she couldn’t help but let the nerves consume her. Some money she had money a little while a go from some old clothes she sold, she decided to spent it on a new suit. She didn’t very much like dresses, and skirts. In all the important meetings and presentations she had throughout her years in collage, she always wore suits.

But for her first day on the firm, and to give a good impression she couldn’t just wear one of the old ones. So she bought this black suit. The pants were all black and a little tight and came to rest on her ankles. The jacket of the suit had a little cleavage and was supposed to not be worn with anything underneath. She had only her bra in, one you wouldn’t be able to see. The jacket closed beautifully around her, and made some of the nerves subside. Her confidence radiating all over her. ´

She looked at herself one last time in her mirror and then picked up her purse and rested it on her shoulder.

“You can do this.” y/n murmured as she closed the door of her apartment and made her way to catch the bus. A bus were if her plans were correct, she would arrive 30 minutes earlier, but she didn’t care. She wouldn’t have to get in until the hour they had arranged, but at least she knew she would be there at said hour and not be late on her first day.

Can you imagine, being late on your first fucking day and give her (hopefully) new bosses that impression? They would deny her right then and there and she would not have the chance to show her potential.

As planned she arrived early. Their firm was one of the biggest and modern building in the city so it wasn’t hard to miss. She decided to get herself a little comfort drink while she made the time pass. When only five minutes were left for her interview she entered the firm. Everything was spacious, and very open and they got all the light in here that was possible. She felt small in such a big space. Although taking and studying law, she always had social anxiety. The friends she had were the most amazing people and took her right under their wing and always made her feel safe. She wishes they were here to help her.

“Hi, my name is y/n y/l/n, I’m here for an interview, I-“ her words came a little shaky. She took a deep breath and smiled at the lady behind the big counter, her face had a smile that made y/n a little less nervous.

“You’re here because you are the intern right?” she completed her sentence and then wrote something on her computer. “The other intern is also here. You both will be interviewed at the same time, Mr and Mr Weasley will both be in there to talk you through everything.” She gave her something of a smile. “You can take the lift, they’re in the last floor. Iris, their personal secretary will instruct you when to come in.”

“Thank you so much.” y/n said, bid her good day and then went on her way. When she got to the second floor she was met with a beautiful modern entrance that had some very good looking and comfortable chairs in. In the middle a glass table with some law magazines. ‘of course,’ she thought to herself ‘what else would they have here’ she laughed a little.

She she looked better she found a tall, blonde guy sitting in one of the chairs. The white button down he wore had hugging his muscles very well, y/n might’ve felt drool pulling in her mouth. It only intensified when she looked at his pants and the way they hugged his legs. His black necktie made everything look together. He didn’t wore a jacket that’s why. The jacket was hanging in the arm chair.

“You must be y/n.” he said, getting up from his position to come and greet her. His hand stretched out, the veins in his hands very prominent. She had to put herself together, she was here to work.

“Yes, and you are?” she was a little lost, the lady downstairs hadn’t told her his name, but told him hers.

“Elias, it’s a pleasure.”

“pleasure is all mine.” She smiled.

“The lady at the front told me to wait here, she will call us when they’re ready for us. Do you for any reason know how they look?” He asked quietly trying not to bring attention from the people working in this floor. From what y/n understood, their offices were here, and their secretary was also here but some other people worked here to. Potential important lawyers?

“Ahm… no, not really. Tried to look them up but no photos. Very private aren’t they? Wonder how they do it, being so well known among everyone. Specially famous people.” y/n said when she brought her thoughts to focus on Elias again. She sitting next to him and they chatted for a little, until they were called.

“They will see you now. You can go down the hall, and it’s the last door to your right. It’s the meeting room.” Iris spoke eloquently, and that made y/n and Elias share a worried look before they got on their merry way.

“That made a little nervous, I mean, didn’t expect much less from someone who works with such big people, but… you know what I mean?” Elias spoke, worry in his voice. Not being able to form many words do to her being nervous, y/n just nodded.

“Do the honors.” y/n managed to let out, a small and brief smile on her face. Elias opened the door after knocking and hearing a ‘come in’ from inside.

The table wasn’t full of people but fore sure y/n would have a hard time, until they introduced themselves, knowing who Fred and George were. They had invited other lawyers, she assumed, from their position and all, she had to be. She was now regretting accepting this.

“Please com in and have a seat.” One man with spiky, red hair pointed to the chairs that had y/n’s and Elias name. They proceeded to do just that.

“I’m George, this is my brother Fred, and these are some of our best lawyers. Please don’t be frightened we just like to make sure the interns we are giving a chance have actual potential and are not just ‘grades’, that’s why they are here.”

y/n had to swallow very hard and hope to not be heard. If she was gonna have to work here and look at that all day was she gonna be able to do it? God helped her. If she thought Elias was attractive mere ten minutes ago… what did she thought of these two men, who were clearly twins but somehow had differences that made her more attractive to the one who was speaking.

“We are going to make a series of questions, from all of us and see how you answer and handle very specific situations. “ It was Fred speaking, he held what she expected to be a smile on his face, while his brother had a way more serious demeanor.

They nodded, not knowing if they should speak or not. George held his eye on the girl slightly longer than he did on Elias. She was more beautiful here than in the picture she had presented in her portfolio.  How could he handle that? And if they kept her she was to work on their floor all the time? He needed to control himself, now.

The questions started and they alternated between y/n and the boy next to her, making sure the majority of the questions were different for both of them, to actually see their potential and not some copy of the others answer.

When it ended y/n felt like her heart could be heard by everyone around her and that it would come out of her chest. She didn’t have a very good perspective on things, in a way, if they were good or bad. So she didn’t know if she had done a good job, the faces everyone had at the table didn’t help a little.

Elias gave her a look, a reassuring one. And under the table, like they’ve knew each other for years he squeezed her hand gently.

“I think you both did an amazing job, I think everyone agrees?” Fred gave a questioning look around, starting at his brother and then to their co-workers. Everyone was nodding. “So I think this is all, you are hired as our interns.”

She could scream again, like she did when she had gotten the email saying she was accepted. But she controlled herself. Gave Elias hand a squeeze back and when everyone got up they both followed them.

“I think my brother will now sort with you both every last detail. I won’t be present mainly because I have an import case to work on, but we trusted each other with our lives. So you won’t miss me.” Fred tried to loosen the mood with a small inexistent joke.

Everyone started to leave and only left George, y/n and Elias there.

“If you would follow me please, my office will be a bit more comfortable than these chairs.” He passed through them and like lost puppies they followed to his office.

They spent hours talking about everything. George wanted them to be on the same page, and following everything precisely. y/n tried her best to memorize every word he said, but it started to get harder when after a while George felt bored of his position and dragged his chair away from his desk and then crossed his right leg over his left knee, leaving him in a powerful and extremely hot position that made y/n have to cross her legs and try to be as discreet as possible while trying to alleviate some of the pressure she had.

Why was she acting like a stupid teenager? For heavens sake, this was her work place, that was her boss, and she should not even thinking about him as other than that. But when his hands came to rest on his crotch her attention switched to the very prominent bulge he presented. Her eyes were not there for even a minute, but she still felt guilty when she looked up to see him looking at her. She looked away fast. He continued with what he was saying.

y/n hoped Elias was oblivious to the situation.

After while George got himself of that position and looked at both of them.

“This is everything, if for any reason something comes up you can always ask Iris, or any other thing, email me or my brother or ask Iris to speak with us. Right?”

He popped his tong and proceeded to get up when everything was settled.

⚘

Their first official day started the next day. And then after that is was smooth sail for a while. y/n helped Fred a lot in his cases and he loved how she was just so vibrant to have around. Took him a while to get her out of her shell, to show her she could treat him as a friend rather then her boss. He felt like he somehow could trust her a lot and when they were very concentrated on a job and they were both tired he would tell her bits and pieces of his life. Usually about his girlfriend Angelina and how they’ve been tighter for years and he is thinking of proposing. Or how he feels old and wished he could be an intern all over again. To which y/n would say:

“Aren’t you considered the youngest and most successful lawyer of all time?” Those were facts, Fred and George were in fact all of that. At twenty five they had a massive empire, that they built from scratch and with only the help of a very few close ones.

He would share small details of his childhood, of him and George. Usually those gave y/n some hope that George would one day be to her what Fred was to her. But until now all she got from him were small short and cold answers from anything she was working on. Usually Fred asked her to go bribe them out of him. Elias was the one who worked more closely to George and even him was usually in other lawyers offices doing close work with them.

“George is stubborn and weird sometimes. He always loves to work with you lot, I don’t understand why this year is different.” Fred stated, looking at y/n for a moment and shrugging when he couldn’t find an answer to it.

“Mister knows everything and everything needs some closure, is now left speechless.” y/n joked and they both laughed a little loud. His office door open because the case they were working on required y/n to leave all the time in search for answers. They didn’t notice George at the door.

He cleared his throat. Fred looked at him, and y/n that on the other side of the desk, back to George turned around to also look.

“Elias is sick and had to go home, I have come important matters to take care of, would it be a nuisance if y/n could do it?” She noticed he spoke more to his borther than to her.

“Sure, what she was doing can continue tomorrow or whenever Elias comes back. Right y/n?”

“Yes of course. Mr. Weasley you just have to show me what to do.” She got up and showed herself ready to work. After her first day her clothes were a little bit more casual, but she still wore pants, but George still had dificlty in not imagining those beautiful legs wrapped around his head.

‘Get your head out of your gutter George’ he always thought to himself when these thoughts came, ‘she’s young, and working for you.’

“Yes, come with me.” He instructed and turned around to leave. y/n waved to Fred and closed the door after she left. She knew her work with him wasn’t nearly done, but without Elias she would have to split herself in two and help both of them. Since Fred always had her help, he would have to to what he could for the time being without her.

“We have to through all these voice messages, the case calls for it and four ears are better than just two.” His voice was always so serious how could he work like this? Elias never complained to y/n on their lunch break or when they decided to do something outside work, that almost always ended up in work talk. They just didn’t have much in common besides that.

“yes sure, can you give me paper and pen or a pencil will do just fine.” George gave her a puzzled look “Well with Mr. Weasley every time there’s voice calls or something we take notes to pin point important stuff.” George knew that by Mr. Weasley she meant Fred but she knew that outside she called him Fred, they were that close. She had only ever heard Mr. Weasley came out of her mouth when it was related to him.

“Yeah you’re totally right. Here. Have this.” He gave her the notebook in front of him, the one that had all the important notes on the case. She sat down on the chair in the same place of Fred’s office and waited for him to start the audios.

She placed her head on her hand, and her elbow was resting on the desk. She looked at George who just started the audios and the tried to concentrate. Silently throughout all the time she was there she took many notes, George was a little taken aback, what was he missing that she clearly wasn’t, when it ended she looked at him. He barely had time to start something because she started first.

“So according to the first call, the lady in question didn’t know the person on the other side, but that person knew her very well, otherwise how could they be so sure of such personal information. The thing was she wasn’t paying attention and didn’t notice any of the signs of what was to come.” y/n started, and when she continued talking and demonstrated so well everything he didn’t dare to interrupt her. Although by the end he knew the girl in front of him has just solved him the case. He was also a little embarrassed because some of his notes were not has good as hers.

“You just solved me a casa.” George said astonished with what had just happened, his mouth opened in surprise and the look y/n gave him was brilliant.

“Did I? Really?” She couldn’t hold her happiness, although working here for a while and helping, and having done so much, Fred usually referred that she had done much more than any other intern they’ve had, she hand’t actually solved a case by herself. Fred and her always came to conclusions together.

“Yes, yes you just did.” George couldn’t believe that the case he has been working on for the last week and a half, and that he was getting to a road with no end was just solved. When he decided to listen to the audios he didn’t expect much from them because he thought he had worked through everything. Well, he guessed wrong. “Do you have any idea what this case might’ve costed me hadn’t you just solved it?” George wondered out loud. She denied, not being able to form words. The way he was looking made her panties soak, which is a current occurrence because every time she see him even from a far he manages to do something to her.

“It would cost us millions of dollars and very bad fame. You see we are working with some of the most influential people England has. Winning is very important.” George said.

“I thought every person you worked with was influential and important?” It came out a genuine question.

“These people can manipulate everything around them, if they wanted to end mine and Fred’s career, they could with a snap of their fingers. Winning them this case on the contrary, will give us something in all out time working he never had in this scale.” He stated. “Thank you so much for your help.”

Well that was first, y/n never heard him say a ‘hi’ to her, and a ‘thank you’ to anyone else.

“You can go have your luch now, I’ve kept you here for… oh for a long time.” He said when he looked at the hours. Two o’clock was away past their lunch our. Fred hadn’t come knockinh why? They always had lunch together. “How about had as a thank you I offer you lunch?” What a bold fucking move George Weasley, what will people think if they see you out and about with your little intern ahm? ‘Fuck that’ George thought to himself.

“Is it appropriate?” way to ruin the opportunity y/n, she thought.

“Lunch as co-workers of course. Celebrating early the win.”  He persuaded, now that he was all in, might as well convince her. When she nodded he continued. “Well have you ever tried the Italian on the main street?”

He meant the beautiful restaurant that looked straight out a movie? The one she’s been eyeing since she started working here, but the prices have kept her way because lord forbid her of spending fifty pounds on a fucking meal?

“I was thinking maybe something more on my price range?” She suggested, trying not to offend him, or look poor in front of him. She wasn’t and the money she received working for them was good but she started to pay for her stuff now, to relieve her parents of the bills and so money was always a little tight on her side.

“None sense, I will pay for us both. No one needs to know. Now come on, or we will eat our lunch when we’re suppose to be snacking” He was already getting up, got his jacket of the back of the chair in a swift motion and walked to the door.

No one was to be seen in the hall, which was weird given the hour of the day. Everyone came from lunch and this was the hour of chatting a little bit, drink a coffee or something else and going to the bathroom before resuming their work. Some forces where on their side because besides Iris, no one saw them leave together. And Iris was nice enough to keep everything to her.

The restaurant was to the brim. y/n thought they would have to wait hours or not even have a place. But the very nice employee at the front, as soon has he saw George swiftly pull them in and into one of the best tables they had.

“I’m a regular.” He justified, when they were seated and her eyes weren’t on him for once but instead on the menu.

“yes of course.” She wanted to had, and the most powerful man there is, but she kept that to her.

“If you have any doubts choosing I would suggest the chicken marsala.” Did he think, even though she had just solved his case, that she was dumb? The tone in his voice suggested everything but a suggestion. It was almost a command. What type of fifty shades was this? Although she did like the dominant side he radiated to her.

“Sure, I’ll have that.” And George gestured to the employee working around the tables on the place they were before starting their request. And while they waited they talked. In just few minutes he felt like he was Fred in there. Because y/n was talking openly and so freely that he couldn’t believe she was doing that to him.

It felt nice for her hear her talk like that, like she had no worries and that she felt safe in speaking to him like that. He also talked and y/n was surprised he even wanted to share something with him.

“I also lived in a flat while studying, me and Fred shared one I mean.” He corrected. “Two teenagers leaving alone in a apartment after coming from a big family? Sweet, we were in paradise.” When y/n laughed he had do contain the smile that was to appear on his face.

“I can’t even begin to imagine what two boys would do all alone.” Her tone was suggestive. George coughed a little trying to hide the smirk in his face. If she was trying to rile him up and get something out of him it was working.

“law if difficult, but we never studied they way some of our pears did. We partied, and people were impressed because they never expected the best parties to come from law students, yet, they did come from us. Took us a while after collage to build our reputation to what it is today, a lot of people didn’t take us seriously. Then Fred hit the jackpot with a giant case and things just grew from there. I had my big moment a few months later.”

Now that was all information y/n had no idea about. Fred never shared that with me.

“Fred shared a lot of things with me but never that. I’m shocked.” When George looked at her accusingly but in a joking manner she found herself correcting what she said. “I mean, it’s just… I’m sorry, but you both have this like dominant strong image around you that it’s hard to think you ever did party. There’s zero photos of you on the internet, all of your cases have closed doors. I mean? People create an image, even if not the correct one, about you.”

“You have a point there. You have very good points that I didn’t have any idea about. But then again Fred took you all to him so it’s hard to know anything.”

“Mr. Weasley just likes the way I work.” She felt the need to justify herself almost immediately.

George rolled his eyes a little. “Still, you are working for both of us and although Elias does a good job I found out only today how hard working you are.”

If he was trying to make her feel guilty or sometime of thing it wasn’t working.

“Well, Mr. Weasley, I never worked for you because first, today was the first time you actually felt the need to call me and only because it was urgent and Elias wasn’t there and because every time I try to ask you something, for Mr. Weasley’s work you always answer me shortly.” She stated. George lost words at that, but only for a brie moment.

The next words that came from George were fast and wouldn’t have made any sense if y/n didn’t have all her attention on the beautiful man in front of her.

“I don’t have you work for me because, “he stopped for a moment, thinking his brain might stop him there, but was wrong, “because it is wrong to fantasize about someone who works for you, someone who is your boss. Is it not?”

Her cheeks started to feel warm, and her body was next. She squeezed both hands together and crossed her legs tighter tightly, the warmth from earlies mixing with we warmth from now.

“It is profession to crush on your boss?” She wanted to come out like is words hadn’t just affected her, but it came out shyly instead. George’s breath came out uneven and he put both of his hand on top of the table and closed is hands into fists is knuckles turning white from the force. He breath very deeply, y/n watched his nostrils flare and his eyes turning a very dark shade.

“It is. But I guess we’re both bad at keeping things professional.” He wanted to ass more but their food arrived and he was forced to tidy up is posture and look like he wasn’t hard under his pants.

They ate in silence. And when they finished George paid for their food, and when they got up he put a hand on the end of her back, almost at the curve of her ass.

“We should keep things professional.” y/n got way from his touch and looked at him. “Wouldn’t want to loose my job because I wanted to fuck my boss no?” The smile she gave him made him know that wasn’t scared of what they had said at the table. And that if both of them found it hard to hide the sexual tension before, now that they were both made aware that it was returned, it would be even more difficult.

⚘

George ended up winning the case that same week. Fred had made Elias and y/n work very little that day and in their floor they did a small celebration party due to the fact that this was major win for them. Everyone wanted an interview with both of them, their phones hadn’t stopped ringing. Iris had to put it on hold so she could come celebrate with them since they had insisted. They were in the meeting room, and although they were known around, Elias and y/n stayed in a little corner, champagne in their small cups a little bit of cake in their hand. Elias had chocolate and y/n had red velvet.

“You know we are not alone in this room right?” Fred asked his brother, coming up next to him and bumping his shoulder. George looked at him questioningly. “You know other people will notice if you continue to look at her like you wanna rip her clothes of.” Fred joked and laughed when George mumbled angrily under his breath. He was regretting telling George what had happened at lunch and even more so telling him the crush he’s had on his intern since she started. Although Fred stated, and very well, that of the crush he already knew. If any of the thing either one or the other did that made him have his confirmations. It was small things Fred would notice. Like every time George came into his office and almost every time he had nothing of interest to say, he would find a stupid excuse that Fred was always to nice to snitch on him in front of her. Or how her looked lingered a little to much when she was in his presence, and how Fred had to call her name various times before she looked at him again.

How George only seem to need something from him in the hours y/n was in his office. How, if she wasn’t there, George would be caught red handed with nothing to say or do, because he just wanted to look at her.

“Shut up.” He said angrily. “Stop trying to make me do something irrational. It’s wrong. And we’re not in the right place to have that conversation.” He wanted this conversation to be the end of it, however Fred was not done.

“You know I don’t mid right? If things are done correctly I wouldn’t mind.” Fred looked at his brother. They were both tall, taller than almost everyone in the room, so they both had a good look over y/n and Elias at the end of the meeting room, close to the door.

“What is there to be done correctly? Haven’t you understand she works for us? And let me also tell you from what I’m seeing when her year long internship ends that the possibly of us hiring her is big?”

“If someone else doesn’t hire her first.” Fred said only to tease him. He was very much planning on hiring her, and planning on giver her a notice before the internship ended so they could assure her position in the firm.

“They won’t. We are the best of the best. And as you said before she had other opportunities but waited for ours. Do you think she would be stupid enough to say no?” George scoffed and then moved his head from side to side, his eyes still on the girl in green. She brought a suit today, she knew today was gonna be big and she had spoken briefly to George the other day and told him about it. She was gorgeous.

“Elias and her are alone in the corner, why don’t make yourself useful for once little brother and go talk to her. Oh look just faith speaking.” Fred said the last part when Elias was pushed to the side by one of his colleagues, a lawyer who was been working on a small case.  

George composed himself the best he could and made his way to her passing some people who were congratulating him again, and wanted to talk but he had her on his mind.

“May I just say, you were very impressive today, Mr. Weasley.” She beat him to it, speaking first. George had invited y/n and Elias to watch firsthand, front row seats at court. She was very thankful for such a big opportunity, she hoped one day she would be where George was, and be has amazing has he was presenting all the facts and making everyone subdue to him and his ever brilliant knowledge.

“Thank you. Couldn’t have done it without you y/n. You were brilliant, and I wish you could’ve been there. Be the one to defend.” He had his back turned to everyone in the room and since he was tall he covered y/n a little. He was lanky to she could still be seen.

“I think I will have many opportunities no? I mean working for your firm will give me a very good profile, and people will want me, that is, if you give good recommendations.”

“We could always skip the recommendations and hire you.” She looked at him her eyes big and shiny, having him say that made her heart beat a little faster. If she could work for them permanently and be a lawyer to them? Dream come true.

“That would be very nice, yes.” She tried to keep her cool, and then closed the distance between them, but trying to not make it to noticeable for other people not to see. Her mint scent hit his face and his teeth came to rest on his bottom lip, her closeness made him nervous. “Working for you permanently would be a challenge no?” she had her arms crossed, but uncrossed them to rest on hand on his arm and squeezed it. She was about to cross the biggest line there was.

“I could do so much more than working couldn’t I Mr. Weasley? I bet I would look good working on my knees, under your desk, only for you so see.” She spoke almost inaudible, only he could hear it and with the noise everyone was making he was sure they didn’t have a clue what she just said. To everyone else they were just chatting about his win.

George trembled and he had to put all his willpower into not doing something stupid. He had no words. And didn’t have time to say, Elias came up behind her and called her, and he lost all her attention. People had the nerve to always be interrupting them. She left, because they both had to work on something Elias needed help in, and y/n always ready to please, offered to.

⚘

After that, if they thought they had ever felt sexual tension, then they weren’t expecting to go through this. Fred couldn’t take George anymore, everyday in his office going on about how he needed to get laid. How lately he just felt like everything was building up and the work piling on his desk wasn’t helping.

“You should just go to y/n, I think she would be more than willing to help.” Fred hadn’t meant for his words to sound wrong and George understood where he was coming from. Fred felt y/n’s sexual tension before he even hit the floor at 8 am every morning. He even asked Angelina for some advice on how to try and make them understand that he was ok with them.

George wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. “You are no fucking help, ever. I might as well visit my ex.” He stated. In that moment y/n was knocking on the door, she was speaking before she was looking and knowing George was there. “Fred I brought you what you asked, and also some ideas for presents for Angelina.” She said, and finally looked up, every word she was gonna say next. She has just called him Fred in front of his brother. She would only say that if he was alone. Fred didn’t seem to mind.

“Thank you so much y/n. My brother here was just leaving right George? Me and y/n have some things to do.” He looked at George who huffed and left without another word to y/n.

“Sexual tension still?” She questioned, bold question to make to anyone but her and Fred were more than co-workers, they were friends now and he didn’t mind.

“Yes. You two should meet up.” Came Fred’s voice sounding uninterested, and y/n rolled her eyes as she sat in front of him starting her work. Fred looked at her when she wasn’t looking and wanted to laugh at the annoyed and very frustrated face she had.

When five hit the clock Fred got up, after staring to organize his desk minutes before.

“I’m going, don’t wanna be late to my date with Angelina. You’re staying?”

“Yes, there’s still so much to be done and the lady hasn’t stopped calling Iris today asking for anything we might know. This is going to take while.” y/n stopped what she was doing for a moment to look at Fred. “Do you want me to leave? I can go to my desk or the meeting room?” The desk she barely used, it’s only use now being of support to her bag and computer.

“No, you can stay I trust you. Just please don’t stay up to late. Tomorrow we can give her something to occupy her mind.” She nodded, and said goodbye as he left and closed the door behind him.

y/n only got up two hours later to turn on the light in room because it was already dark, but her brain so focused on what she was doing that she didn’t think much of it.  

“Fred are you seriously still working?” Came a sudden voice that scared her and made the pencil she held drop to the floor. “Shit sorry, y/n? Where’s Fred?”

“Mr. Weasley left sometime ago, a date with his girlfriend. He let me stay because I have to finish this.” She pointed to the papers in front of her and the proceeded to pick up the pencil. George came in and closed the door behind him. She had to prepare herself to bask in his presence, his knowledge and his extreme intelligence. y/n was not only fisically attracted to him, but also mentally. He was just so intelligent it was scary sometimes to work with him, even though she had helped him solve that case a sometime ago. It was still hard because she was afraid to make any wrong moves.

“Well I thought it was just him in here and was gonna tell him to drop his work and go home. It’s not him but it applies to you to. Besides I had to stay up late too, I’m the only one here and the security will want to close everything up in a short time. I bet if they had done their patrol already that you wouldn’t be here.”

“I will leave when they come here, but for now I have to really finish this.” She turned to her work again, trying to ignore his presence completely. He came closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Well I have nothing to do at home, I can help you with what’s left. Two heads are better than one.” He said. He pulled a chair from a corner and put it next to hers. She gave him some papers for him to analyze. “Surprising that Fred stayed with this case, i usually take care of financial stuff.” He said more to himself than anything but y/n heard.

“I think he only took it because I told him I like this type of cases and could help him. I’m doing most of the works, he’s working on the arguments and such.” She looked at George. Being the end of the day, he has his shirt unbuttoned, his tie was hanging from his left pocket of the jacket and he just had a tired look on him.

“Ah I see, stealing you all to himself.” y/n denied with her head. “Unfair, seen as he knows very well I’ve been meaning to talk to you since the party the other day. Or did you forget what you said?”

Shit, y/n wasn’t expecting him to act on it. But oh boy, how she was happy he did. Every dream she’s had since that day was of her on her knees sucking him of until he cums in her mouth. While he calls her little pet names and makes her stay with his cock in her mouth because it’s warm. And then in her dreams he would slap her ass, slap her little clit until she trembled and made her call him ‘daddy’. The name would come out shy at first and then when he was destroying her it would come out more strong and sure.

She swallowed hard and pressed her legs together.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He put his hand on her leg and pulled them apart, so her legs were separated and he looked at her sternly. “Keep him this way.” He demanded.

“I thought you were gonna help” she whispered, hand coming to rest on top of his and caressing his long fingers. Shit, they would hit every spot inside her so good.

“And I am, aren’t I? I’m attending to a more important and demanding matter.” His hand came up from her knee to her thigh and then leaned inside towards her core, he could feel all the heat radiating from there. She nodded and guided his hand to be right on top of her still clothed pussy.

“Please, help me.” She said sweetly and seductively, any doubts she had and concerns if the should even be doing this in the first place all melting away.

“Yeah? Want my help baby girl? Since you like to be so bossy and know it all, tell me, what do you want me to do?” George pressed his fingers, quickly finding her clit and letting the pressure there for a moment, a moan coming from her mouth.

“Undress me, and please touch my pussy. I’m so wet.” She pleaded.

“Then get up, come on now, be a good girl.” He sair almost impatiently, and saw her get up and fumble with the buttons of her jacket and then with the button of her pants. “Shit.” George was amazed how good she looked, the black panties and bra she had made her look even more delicious if that were possible. The panties were laced and so her wetness could be seen from them. “On the desk.” He instructed, and y/n without thinking did what he asked.

If Fred ever found out they had sex in his office he would never see the end of it and he might as well think about creating his own firm because… wow.

“I’m so wet.” She brought her hand to his hair and pulled on hit the groan that left George was brutal. “Please kiss it.”

George didn’t need to be told twice, he brought his lips to her covered pussy and kissed, although mixed with the fabric of her panties, he could very much taste her distinct, sweet, taste. He kissed it again, and again until she was restless enough to pull his head back her eyes a darker color.

“Take them of.” She order, George looked amazed at her commanding tone.

“be careful there little thing, might just stop here.” He had taken his hand to move her panties to the side exposing her engorged and redish clit, asking to touched. She mewled, her hand coming to rest on her belly and her fingers digging a little.

George took his mouth to her clit and sucked it gently, gaining from her the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. He sucked again so have that reaction again, her legs came to rest on his back pulling him to her. She moaned his name.

“Sound so fucking good moaning for me princess, just love it so much.” He took the moment she was distracted to rip her panties open, she gasped.

“What the fuck George.” She looked at him incredulously.

He slapped her thigh and squished it. “Watch you language there or daddy might just leave you hanging.”

The fact that not only had he used the word ‘daddy’, the word she so dreamed of him calling, he had also called himself that. He couldn’t be real.

“No please.” Any dominance she might have tried complete disappeared at his words. Two of his fingers played with her wet hole while his mouth kissed the inside or her thigs, kissed just above her pussy, above where she wanted to be touched the most. Her eyes closed and one hand was behind her, to support her and the other still on her belly.

He entered the two fingers, slowly, looking at her, at the way her head fell back, his name fell out of her mouth, and the hand on her tummy came to push him agains her cunt. Non verbally stating where she wanted his mouth to go.

HE wasted no time attacking her clit with his tongue, his fingers moving slowly in and her out her allowing to fill her, to be close to her.

“Daddy, shit.” Her legs slid down his back almost to his butt, they were shaking a little.

“You just so good baby girl, so sweet, fuck, I’ve been imagining this ever since I saw you. How tight you would be, how sweet, how responsive to your daddy.” He moaned, he was so hard the zipper on his trousers opened a little. His free hand came to unbutton and in a very messy way he pulled his boxers down and freed his cock.

His cock was swollen, red, and we was leaking the stinky susbstance y/n wanted to taste. It came slapping to his belly, rock hard. He put his hand on it stroking slowly letting some moans slip out of his lips, which came shocking against her clit and she shook.

“Fuck. Are you touching yourself daddy?” She asked innocently, pulling some of the red hair that had fallen onto his face to have a better view of his wet swollen lips, from mounding at her pussy.

“I am baby, I am, you just, taste so good, feel so warm and squishy.” All the vibrations from his voice were crashing on her clit making her even more sensitive.

“I- I’ gonna cum, George, fuck.” She was so close, so so close, but he stopped, seized his movements at her pussy but his fingers still buried inside of her.

“You’re gonna come, with me deep inside that little pussy, yeah baby?” He asked, moving away from her. Pulling his fingers, she sighed happily, and took his hand as soon as it was out her. Bringing her face close to his hand and putting his fingers in her mouth, sucking feverishly on them.

George groaned, the hand on his cock pressing his tip and he felt like he could come there at sigh.

“I wanna suck you cock daddy, please.”

“Since my girl asked so nicely, I can’t say no.” Hearing him say ‘princess’ ‘my girl’ made her stomach feel with butterflies, and her heart skip a beat. Shit this crush was way out of hand.

She bounced of the desk, and pushed his chair a little, the wheels helping her do so. She came down to her knees, the view making George think the most sinful things.

Her hand took his out and put it in his thick thighs. Her mouth close to his where she left small wet kisses. Her hand started to stroke him, coming from the base all the way to the rudy red tip. She took the pre-cum that was coming out and used it had lubricant making the sensation so much more intense to him.

She opened his legs to fit in between them and looked up at him for a brief moment, her pussy pulsing around nothing wishing to be touched. He had his head back, both hands at his thighs kneading the flesh there. His mouth opened looking like his was gonna moan but no sound came out.

She understood them we was trying to control himself.  

“Moan for me daddy, let me hear you. Let me know I’m making you feel good.” She squeezed his tip tightly and his hole body shook, a moan he couldn’t control of her name.

“You’re making me feel so good, shit, your hands are so small and can barely wrap around my thick shaft isn’t that right pretty princess? And why don’t you put that dirty mouth of your to work.” Her mouth came to meet his tip and engulfed it in her lips, sucking softly on it, her hands massaging the rest of his cock for now.

Her tongue playing with his tip and then she not so slowly took more of him into her mouth. Her hand resting on his balls and massaging them. And then coming up again twisting around the part of his cock she didn’t have in her mouth.

He put his hand on her hair, making a pony tail out it and helping her guiding her movements, even thought she didn’t need that, he just wanted to feel in control.

She breath in deepley and relaxes her throat and before he knew it she was taking him all of him in, hitting the back of her throat, gagging around him, her spit and his come dripping down the corners of her mouth.

“Sucking my cock so messily baby, but so fucking good- ah fuck” he cried out his legs feeling numb from all the pleasure. Her hand moving more vigorously on his balls. She pulled out slowly, her free hand not touching him, touching her needy clit.

“Come on, up you get.” He was out of breath, pulling her by her hair and instructing her silently to sit on the desk again. He got up, one hand spreading her thighs apart and the other stroking him, the color red spreading from his head all the way thru his length from the way he was feeling.

“Next time, daddy, I’ll suck your cock until you come. I won’t let you pull out.” y/n said, hands coming up to knead her breast thru her bra.

“Take that off, want you naked while you make a mess on my cock.” He smacked his cock on her clit the sudden touch making them both shudder. With trembling fingers she tried to pull open her bra, and with some difficulty she eventually managed.

George filled her up nice and slowly letting them both ride the high of feeling each other so closely. George feeling her up all the way, her pussy adjusting to his size. He was big, long and thick and y/n hadn’t had sex in a long time and no guy she was with was that big. George was way above average and she could feel it very well and would feel it even more the next day.

“Daddy shit.” Her feet met his ass and pulled him towards her, George wasn’t all in but her sudden movement made him do just that, fitting snugly in her pussy, brushing her sweet stop that made her spasm around him.

“You are just perfect all over aren’t you baby? So perfect and angelic but the dirtiest whore for your daddy.” His hand took the hair that still fell on his eyes and his other hand touched her clit and pressed it, sinful sounds coming from her, her clit touched and played with along with the pressure and size of George’s cock making her senses stop working and her loosing every train thought she had.

“I’m gonna love to play with this pussy.” He started moving his hips, taking his hand of her clit and taking both her legs in his hold. He bent her legs at the knee and close tho her chest the knew position made her scream. He hit her g-spot right there and then, and her legs became gelly.

“Found it baby, now touch you precious clit for me.” He instructed and she did has she was told, all the pleasure she felt becoming to much, her pussy was throbbing, her nipples were hard from all the pleasure and his cock inside her felt heavenly. He was so smooth, and heavy. She made rapid little motions on her clit while George sped up his movements his hips meeting hers ever, bottoming out with every thrust and touching every little part of her cunt.

When her legs started to quake powerfully in his hold he knew she was starting to get close. She had been teased and denied one orgasm, and she would do it again if he demanded, but the way her breasts moved with power of his hips and strokes, and how she clenched around him swallowing him holy he knew he would be mean to do that.

“You gotta ask for permission.” He slapped her hand way from her clit to pus his there, to control the pressure and the little up and down movement.

At first she couldn’t form words, her vision was going white, the shots of pleasure thru her body to much.

“P-please can I cum?” A gentle whimper came from her mouth as the waves of her orgasm become stronger.

“Yes baby, go ahead soke my cock.” His hand moved even quicker on her clit and that’s when they both felt it. Her orgasm rippling thru her, strong waves of pleasure felt all over her body, her legs quacking, her arms stretched out beside her, her pussy convulsing, her juices coating his cock deliciously.

“Squeezing me so tight baby, I’m gonna fucking come.”  She puts her head in a way that she can look at him, all destroyed and proper fucked out. He doesn’t have time to warn her again before his climax comes crushing down on him. He almost looses his balance for a second, so strong that everything in his body paralyzes. He buries himself to the hilt in her pussy letting his cum shot deep in her and falls on top of her, his arms don’t give him much support but allow him not to crush her. He hides is face in her neck.

“We really did it ahm?” came her voice, sounding still a little afar since he was still recovering from his strong orgasm. He just nodded unable to form any word.

She waited a little, her hand gently brushing his back making goosebumps appear on his skin. The gentle and sweet gesture making his heart flutter.

“We did.” Came out after a while, finally regaining his posture and picking himself up, pulling out of her. The movement making them moan a little, the emptiness she felt felt weird. She was somehow already used to being full of him.  

He pulled her by the arms so she could sit on the desk and not stay laying down.

“Does this change anything?” She asked shyly. He nodded.

“It does, because, I’ll be dammed if I don’t make you mine.” Intertwining their fingers he brought to his mouth to kiss. She smiled britlhy. “If you want me, that is.”

Her answer came in an attack of kisses all over his face and ending up in his mouth.

“We didn’t even kiss thru all that shit. And you kissed my cock.” He joked and she punched him gently on his chest.

“Watch your mouth. And also how we will explain to your brother this?”

“What he doesn’t know doesn’t hurt him.”

They got dressed, both of them taking their time because their bodies were still not at the maximum potential. A knock on the door startled them.

“Mr. Weasley are you still in there?” It was the guard. George made a gesture with his finger over his mouth for y/n to keep quiet.

“Yes Augustus, be out in a minute.” George said a little loudly and finished up getting dressed and waited for y/n to do the same, and then proceeded to organize the mess they made so Fred wouldn’t know about anything.

Opening the door Augustus was there waiting, a few feet from the door he smiled at George, did he knew it was George now that he could see him? Or did he still think it was Fred? Wouldn’t look good if he did, Fred is probably at home with his girlfriend.

“Augustus, my brother gave us some last minute work and we completely forgot the time. I’m so sorry.” George apologized. Augustus understood then is was not Fred. He only nodded, looked at y/n and also nodded and then watched them leave, their hands intertwined while he heard a little laugh coming from the girl.

⚘

Next day y/n came in at the same time as always, but neither Fred or George were to be seen. She sat at her desk and started to work on the things she should’ve done yesterday but got a little to busy to do so. Fred came in first.

“Good morning y/n. Already working on the case?” He asked bewildered, stopping in front of her desk. She nodded, now that she was seeing him, after what she had done in his office words were hard to come out her mouth. “Good, well when George comes in can you please tell him to come to my office? Iris is coming in later today so I can’t leave her that warning. You can also come in with them for us to work on the case.”

She nodded again, her words still not forming. About half an hour later came in George, way later than usual since he came in at the same time as Fred or a little after. When they made eye contact the smile he shared with her was so big and bright that made some of the nervous feeling she had subside. She had spent all night overthinking if that was a mistake, but by the looks of it wasn’t.

“Mr. Weasley your brother wishes to speak to you.” With some of the lawyers doors opened she had to address him like that.

“Thank you y/n, gonna put this in my office and then I’ll go right in.”

And when he came around she got up to follow him. Silently she spoke to him.

“he said to come in too, so we can work on the case.” She felt the need to justify herself.

“Ah yes, the case you should’ve worked on yesterday I am correct? Got a little to distracted no?” He put his hand on her back and pulled her to him. He kissed her lips gently. If her hands weren’t full she would’ve put his face between them. They were lucky that they in a part where no one could see.

“Ah fantastic that you both still know how to follow some orders.” Fred said, when he saw both of them enter his office. y/n swallowed hard, that sentence had a lot more meaning to it.

George tried to hide his smile, he thinks he might know what could come out of this, but how did he know?

“Next time you both decide to shag, which mind you I have nothing against, finally actually, do it at home, in George’s office somewhere… but please not my fucking office.” He looked at both of them trying to portrait himself as mad but failing terribly. A smirk resting on his lips.

y/n wanted to hide so badly, dig the biggest hole ever and burry herself there from how embarrassed she was.

“Hod do you know?” George asked incredosly, one thing they refused to have were cameras in their offices, it was a private place for them.

“Well my dears there’s a thing called a fucking phone.” He pointed to the phone he had on his desk, it was used to call around the firm, but Fred had his house number on there in case Angelina needed anything and couldn’t reach his personal phone. “Having my girlfriend pick up the phone, and come in the bedroom saying ‘someone is having sex on your office’ sure makes you both have a good impression. Lucky me I was at home with her when that happened.”

George looked at y/n who was feeling hot and embarrassed all over. Shit, it must have been her in the moments of pleasure she might’ve pushed some button. Fuck, shit.

“Just that. But finally you both decided to do it, I was done earing from one or the other just plain bullshit.” Fred rolled his eyes, continuing to write what he was doing. “Even Angelina was happy, not about the phone sex, about you two getting your shit together.”

y/n looked at George and took his hand in hers again.

“So are we together?” She asked him.

“Yes, but to make it official let me take you on a proper date. Today, sound good?” She nodded.

“Great you two, but please don’t let it end in office sex.” Came Fred’s voice again, making the three of them laugh.

[tobiosmilktea]

umpah umpah! smau

↪︎ bokuto x f!reader x iwaizumi

[008] — we meet again!

masterlist | prev. | next

a/n: i was listening to hozier while writing this which explains why both bokuto and iwaizumi is whipped for the mc ✨

asking if you were okay was a good question. really, it is—too bad you didn’t know the answer to that very question no matter how grossly interchangeable the words were tossed around and scrambled into nuances phrases. if anything, it made your mood turn even more sour as your two best friends tried their best to calm you down. keyword: tried

kaori was too busy dying of laughter as she would tease the glaring look on your face. “you’re going to pop a blood vessel, honey.” she snickered, holding her stomach as it ached under the constant tension.

meanwhile akaashi was still profusely apologizing beneath the latter’s amusement. a sigh left your lips for the umpteenth time in the span of five minutes as your arms braided over each other in frustration. “what the fuck are you trying to get at, keiji?”

a gasp practically escaped kaori as she slapped her hand over her mouth, “(y/n) used your first name, that’s how you now she’s pissed off.”

akaashi could only roll his eyes. it was to his best bet to ignore any of kaori’s quips as she’s known to escalate things just by the power of that witty brain of hers. “nothing!” the editor exclaimed as he turned back to you, “i just figured it wasn’t a big deal since you and bokuto both said you guys ended on good terms. besides, i warned you to check the list.”

“okay, but that doesn’t explain the fact that iwaizumi is here!” it was at this moment that you were glad the music was pumping loudly through the venue speakers to hide over your shouts.

“i told you they work for the same team, but i didn’t know they were friends until i saw who bokuto wanted to invite!”

you groan, “unbelievable.”

“i just don’t think you should let their presence ruin the rest of the night, (y/n).” akaashi mentions flatly.

“i agree,” kaori suddenly cuts in, “it’s your party, you could kick them out if you want.” she suggests with an impish tone and an expression laced in provocation.

“i’m not going to kick them out, kaori—” you’re interrupted then as she swiftly elbows you in the breast, “ouch! what was that for?”

 “sorry, i was aiming for your ribs not your titty.” she laughs briefly before motioning to a familiar figure making it’s way towards you three. perhaps it was his height that triggered a response in you to cause your heart to rapidly thump against your ribcage, but honestly, it was probably his spiked hair with white tips that was the perpetrator. “is that bokuto? oh fuck, he’s coming, act natural.”

great, you thought. you had to fight the urge to just walk away a leave, but you knew it wasn’t going to end well whatever you did. knowing your luck, you were going to stumble upon this man one way or another.

“akaashi, there you are!” bokuto calls out over the crowd, serpentining his way through groups of conversating individuals to reach his best friend. but in all honesty, akaashi knew what this guy was doing. bokuto didn’t listen to a word he said in his text messages as the volleyball player ended up coming over here either way just to talk to you.

you’re over (y/n) my ass, akaashi thinks to himself, feigning from rolling his eyes again because at this point, it was just a matter of time before everything came crashing down.

it almost felt like a target was on you, perhaps a red laser shining right in the middle of your forehead the moment bokuto flickered his attention to you. “(y/n)! it’s so nice seeing you again!”

you nod as an awkwardly smile melted on your expression, “it’s nice seeing you too, bokuto.” despite your meek demeanor, what you said certainly wasn’t a lie. you would be lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t miss bokuto and his warming aura. you suppose it was the sudden meeting that caused your fight or flight response to suddenly kick in.

bokuto’s eyebrows furrow slightly, “bokuto? what happened to calling me kou?”

as if the situation wasn’t already difficult being in, it was as if he flicked another match into the burning dumpster fire of a party. “well... we haven’t seen each other in years, so i thought it was appropriate.”

“ah...” his voice trailed on as a few beats of silence ensued.

“oh shit,” kaori suddenly curses under her breath as she nonchalantly spilled his drink all over her arm. “um, akaashi could you come and help me clean this off?” she asks in faux concern, not bothering to give the guy a chance to answer as she tugged him away.

you couldn’t help but feel a faint smirk forming on your lips as you watched the two disappear into the crowd. kaori was always good at acting herself out of awkward situations that you honestly had to applaud her. maybe later you would teasingly remind her to audition for the webtoon’s live action just to spite her. it was just a little mindless payback for leaving you alone with your ex-boyfriend.

your striking gazes met again as you turned your attention back towards bokuto. at first glance, he looked exactly the same as you last saw him—then again, the last time you did see bokuto was when you two decided to break up on the day before graduation, you couldn’t remember much of him as it was dark under the midnight sky as tears blurred your vision. even when things ended up mutual with no hard feelings, you still couldn’t help but feel a tug at your heart when you recalled the way bokuto looked at you then.

it was hard to sleep that night. 

it was a bizarre juxtaposition of comparing eighteen year old bokuto to him now. rather than appearing before you with messy hair and tears streaming down his face, he was beaming in some contagious lightheartedness. it was a feeling you never thought you would feel so nostalgic in as he still smelt like fresh chamomile. he was much bigger now, more buff as one would say and not to mention taller as well.

perhaps going professional really treated this man wonders as you had to admit how increasingly more attractive he has gotten.

“you look great, by the way.” bokuto says, pulling you out of your thoughts as you realize how long you have been staring.

“thanks...” god, this is awkward. this certainly wasn’t leaving a good impression on your part, “you don’t look too bad either.”

a red tint burned at the tips of bokuto’s ears as he scratched the nape of his neck like it was some kind of nervous tic. he usually doesn’t get nervous meeting people, new or old, yet there was something about the way you look at him even after all these years that would send his heart rate into the extremes. he hated how this all ended due to your differing aspirations. “congrats on having a successful webtoon. love cemetery is amazing and i’m obsessed if you couldn’t already tell.”

“i never really pinned you to be one of my biggest fanboys, you know.”

“i’ve always been your biggest fanboy,” bokuto assured with a smirk, “how about you, are you still my biggest fangirl?”

you playfully scoffed at his statement, “um...”

“um?” he pressed, finding the amusement in your eyes adorable.

“i dunno, i haven’t really kept up with volleyball after high school.” you chuckled, swirling the contents of your drink in your hand. “besides, i think you have enough fangirls drooling over you.”

“who needs all of them if i have you?”

you rolled your eyes as you took a sip from the alcohol in your hands. “you’re flirting again.”

“isn’t that the reason why you dated my in the first place?” bokuto jested, feeling the burning in his cheeks as he couldn’t stop smiling. this was progress to him knowing that this playful banter was enough to surely get you two to reconnect again.

you peered your eyes at him suspiciously, “you’re planning something, aren’t you?”

“you’re making it sound like i’m evil!”

“well, are you?”

“of course i’m not,” said bokuto, “i just wanted us to be friends again.”

“you’re kidding.”

he shook his head, “never in a million years.”

you weren’t sure if it was his words that made your chest feel warm or if it was the alcohol in your system. regardless, you refused to let bokuto affect you so easily in a span of a couple minutes even if you took your alcohol well.

“at least you weren’t kidding when you said you were going professional.” you hummed, leaning against one of the smaller round tables as you stared into the crowd. you were hoping bokuto would do the same, but he’d rather look at you than a congregation of random strangers.

“and you weren’t kidding either when you said you wanted to become an artist.”

“i mean, becoming a webtoon artist wasn’t exactly what i thought i was going to be, but i’m glad where i am now in life.” you answered as your eyes wandered the room.

“even without me in it?” god, what a flirt.

that infamous laugh of yours emitted from your cherry-colored lips. it was the type of laugh everyone found themselves attracted to and never annoyed, in fact, it was the laugh bokuto hadn’t even realized he missed so much until the moment it left you.

his mindless attempts at flirting was catching up to you now as you couldn’t fight the feeling of the heat rising to your cheeks. “well, you’re right in front of me aren’t you?”

“things are different know, though...”

“right but—” you tried to respond, but was inevitably interrupted by yuko.

she came up to you in a slight hurry, calling out your name before apologizing to bokuto. “sorry to cut your conversation so short, but i need (y/n) to come take care of something for me.”

confusion melted upon your expression as you turned to her, “we do?”

“we do,” she huffs.

“it’s alright,” bokuto says while motioning for you to follow suit of your manager. “let’s catch up more sometime, yeah?”

you smile at him, one that’s less mediocre and awkward and a bit more genuine. “of course,” was the last thing you could say before yuko yanked at your arm once again until you were in just another body in the crowd.

despite yuko’s hand firmly gripped around your wrist to ensure you wouldn’t get lost in the sea of people, it was difficult trying to focus at one thing at a time. at first it was the worry about your manager and her sudden interruption, but now it was trying your best not to spill your drink due to all the drunken bodies bumping into yours. were there really this many people on the invite list?

grumbling to your self, you threw your head back as you finished the last bits of drink in your hand while you were pulled through the crowd like a ragdoll. having to pay for a stranger’s dry cleaning due to a spilled drink was the last thing on your mind right now.

“what did you want me to help you with?” you shout over to your manager once she slowed down.

“nothing,” said yuko over her shoulder, “i was watching you and bokuto talk and you kept getting redder and redder i thought you were going to pass out.”

embarrassment flushed through, cheeks heating up again at the thought. “ugh, was it that obvious?” you groaned as your head fell from the utter humiliation that was coursing through your body at that moment—far too distracted that your humiliation could only worsen the moment you bumped into another.

“sorry, i wasn’t looking—” the apologetic tone in your voice subsided as your eyes flickered up to whoever’s chest it was up to a yet another familiar face.

“(y/n)?” he says.

“iwaizumi?” you say.

your names were jumbled up in unison just as much as your thoughts immediately dissipated into thin air. just my luck, huh? you swore you were dreaming. nothing in the absolute world could possibly make such a ironic turn of events as if you were in some melodrama yourself. call it fate or destiny, but bumping into both of your exes within a span of ten minutes was something you never would’ve wished upon yourself.

“it’s um... fancy meeting you here.” you start the second you flicker a look over to yuko as she could only give you a pitiful smile. “it’s been a while, right?”

regardless of the confident aura you were extruding right now, you were completely freaking out for the third time this evening. you knew today was going to affect you emotionally, but you wasn’t expecting it to be like this. you were expecting to get a bit emotional due to the fact your webtoon that you poured your absolute heart and soul into has come to an end and not because two attractive dudes from your past just coincidentally came back into your life.

and yet it didn’t matter, it wasn’t like iwaizumi could see through that little façade of false confidence in your expression as it felt like he was meeting you for the first time all over again. it fit all down to a tee from the way his adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his throat to his breath hitching from the sight or to the infamous monarch butterflies tickling his gut.

“it’s nice to see you too, (y/n)...” his words trailed as you couldn’t help but notice how deeper his voice had gotten since the last time you’ve seen him. granted, he was fifteen back then and had a lot of time to grow up and become this absolute adonis.

iwaizumi certainly wasn’t planning on coming across you this evening either. if anything, you two both shared that internal panic when your eyes briefly met at the start of the party. however, he couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved knowing that in the end you two did manage to cross ways. he supposes that after seeing you and bokuto talk as if you two have known each other for years created an inkling feeling in his gut.

he hates the way you distracted him the majority of the night. it wasn’t like you two were on talking terms especially after years of not seeing each other, yet it felt strange for him to even let himself feel this way.

besides, iwaizumi felt absolutely terrible knowing satomi was trying her hardest to capture his lingering attention by making conversation about anything—literally anything.

anyone who had been friends with iwaizumi in the past know he’s an absolute sweetheart, but at the same time, he’s honest. he’s not the type to hesitate in telling someone the cold hard truth even if it meant hurting their feelings, yet whenever he would look at satomi, he couldn’t bring himself to say that he wasn’t interested in the conversation.

you cleared your throat, pulling iwaizumi back from his thoughts, “so... i heard that you became the new athletic trainer for the black jackals.” the man before you nods as he was stilling taking you all in. was he staring at you for that long? “i thought were living in california, why the sudden change of plans?”

iwaizumi shrugs as he took a sip of his beer, “i ended up getting a better job offer here, so i decided to move back. why? have you missed me?”

the moment those words left his lips, he immediately wanted to slap his hand over his mouth and cringe. why was he suddenly so flirtatious with you? was it because he saw you and bokuto flirting earlier, was that it?

you chuckled in amusement as you nod. you honestly weren’t going to lie that his words did catch you off guard for a second. something like this was definitely not in iwaizumi’s handbook his (more or less) complicated personality, yet you decided to play along anyway. “of course i have, iwa! i’m not soulless, you know.”

iwa? the man before thought to himself, what happened to haji? he shook the thought out of his as he opened his mouth in attempt to speak, but he noticed your attention leaving his and onto the person beside him.

satomi cleared her throat as she looks at him innocently, waiting for iwaizumi to introduce her to you.

“oh uh,” he motions his head to the team’s physical therapist next to him, “this is yahagi satomi, she’s my—”

“—date for this evening,” she cuts iwaizumi off and answers for him, catching him a bit off guard and confused, yet he doesn’t correct her. granted, satomi was his plus one so it made sense.

you purse your lips as you took in her features. she was a bit on the shorter side with her long copper hair pulled back into a sleek high ponytail as her bangs were styled perfectly to fit her face. semi was right, she is pretty. it was then you stuck your hand out for her to shake, feeling who cold her palm was compared to yours. “it’s nice to meet you. how long have you two been together?” you ask out of the blue.

i mean, what’s wrong with a little curiosity?

“oh no, we’re not together.” iwaizumi is quick to answer, not even noticing satomi’s slight change in expression when she parted her lips to answer herself. “she’s just my plus one because bokuto told us to.”

you nod at his words, trying your best to ignore the intravenous relief that was coursing through you at that moment. you realized how long you had been standing there then, failing to notice that yuko was still by your side the entire time. if anything, she was just trying to help you out once again as she could literally feel the rising tension in the air. if you were to talk to satomi any longer, it would surely go wrong knowing your luck. luckily, she spots sugawara’s silvery hair just a few feet away.

yuko wasn’t entirely sure how in the hell she was going to get his attention to save your asses, but it was going to happen one way or another. she was just glad you were too preoccupied talking to iwaizumi and satomi that yuko was able to text sugawara to come over.

she watched sugawara feel the buzzing of his phone in his pocket, observing his every move as he pulls it out and read the text as the screen light shined over his face. he looked up then, eyes scanning the room briefly before landing upon yuko’s familiar figure standing next to yours.

the manager widens to eyes a bit at him like a warning to come over here.

she wasn’t sure what was so hard to understand from the pure helplessness in her expression, but sugawara was taking his sweet ass time.

yuko grumbled to herself. at this point, perhaps she was just trying to save herself.

it was then sugawara was finally making his way over to you and yuko. “oh hey, iwaizumi! long time no see, sorry to interrupt but i need to borrow (y/n) and yuko for a second.”

you gave sugawara a confused look as it washed over your expression. again? ugh, give me a break. however, before you could excuse yourself from the conversation, iwaizumi grabs your upper arm lightly.

“(y/n),” he stops you in place, “we should catch up sometime.”

you open your mouth to respond, but sugawara interjects before you could. “why not catch up now?” he suggests, causing all four of you to snap your head towards him, “i’m sure i’ll just yuko’s help will be enough, plus (y/n) has tons of time to talk to more guests.”

the silver haired man gives you a sly wink before taking yuko with him and leaving you behind. great.

you honestly couldn’t excuse yourself now as it would be obvious why no matter how many excuses you come up with, so you had to power through. besides, what could go wrong with talking with your first love and some random girl that somehow gives you a weird vibe?

“so how do you guys know each other?” satomi questions you, suddenly interested in your relationship with iwaizumi. it sounds suspicious, yet she was genuinely wondering if she was attempting to make moves on someone like iwaizumi was a good idea.

“we went to middle and a little bit of high school together,” you answer as a matter-of-fact. there was surely no need to lie.

her eyebrows rise in curiosity, “that makes sense... you guys must have been really close, huh.”

you flickered a look to iwaizumi, examining his reaction if he was also noticing her off words. “yeah... really close.” his expression melted into confusion then as you placed your gaze back to satomi.

iwaizumi scratched the back of his neck as the words remained at the tip of his tongue. why weren’t you mentioning that you two dated before? it wasn’t like it was a crime nor secret. he hated to think this, but could it be because you regretted your relationship with him?

he shook the thought out of his head quickly. the obvious answer was no as the breakup was mutual, yet after all these years of drifting apart, was that really the truth?

if he recalled correctly, one of the last words you said to him before you inevitably left for tokyo and never looked back was that you love him and would always be there for him no matter what. you even promised to text him as much as possible, yet after months had passed since you moved to your new life, it was as if the promise was nonexistent. however, iwaizumi couldn’t bring himself to blame you. if anything, he had himself to blame considering how many times he had written that same text over and over again, yet never had the courage to send it.

“(y/n) had to move to tokyo after our first year so we kind of drifted.” iwaizumi answers. even now with the chance open for him to mention your previous relationship was out in the open, he was still do cowardly to say it.

perhaps somethings never change.

fun facts! —

iwaizumi wasn’t really keen on using social media back in high school, which explains why he never really found out about (y/n) and bokuto’s relationship

it wasn’t like (y/n) and bokuto liked posting about their relationship either at the time

satomi and bokuto have always been homies after they have gotten closer when bokuto injuredhis knee and had to go to physical therapy, but he never really talked about his past relationships, hence satomi not knowing about (y/n)

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[studiobeebo]

~♡ Winter Warmth ♡~

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Megumi Fushiguro x Reader

Warnings: None

Words: 2.1K

Genre: warm and soft like mash potato. 

A/N: has this trope of sharing winter clothes been done a million times? yes. will that stop me? no.

as per usual, reblogs are the best way to get my works around since tags tend to be unreliable so they’re greatly appreciated! enjoy!

“You didn’t bring a scarf. Or a hat. Or anything.”

Your current ‘mission’ partner’s characteristically irritated tone broke you out of your current daze as you shifted your eyes towards him as the two of you walked side by side, close enough that it was clear the two of you were at least friends, but not so close that things were...weird.

“Oh, no..” You hummed, a puff of steam escaping with your words and just as soon evaporating into the cold winter air. “To be honest I didn’t think it would be this cold. Oh- but it’s not that bad, no worries.”

He looked at you for a second before shrugging and facing forward once again, the previous silence between the two of you settling back in as your eyes drifted back to your right where rows and rows of shop windows twinkled with Christmas lights and other inviting decorations. 

See, the so called ‘mission’ the two of you had been sent on wasn’t really a mission at all, it was more like an errand to satisfy everyone back at school’s ‘urgent’ need for a variety of coffees, hot chocolate’s, and tea lattes, which didn’t sound like much, however your oh so gracious sensei insisted you go to this very specific cafe that was about a half an hour walk away instead of the one that was barely a ten minute walk away. Fushiguro seemed particularly annoyed with that, but then again, when wasn’t he annoyed by one thing or another.

The only thing was that you assumed he was bothered because Gojō had made yet another needlessly difficult request of him, however while he was annoyed with Gojō , that wasn’t exactly the reason why. The reason he was particularly peeved was because his teacher said the two of you just haaad to go together. “It’s safer that way.” , he said “Treat it like a mission!”, he said.

Bullshit. 

Gojō was testing him on something even he didn’t want to think about, let alone admit to. Fushiguro told him one thing, ONE THING about you, just an off handed comment on how much you had improved using your cursed technique in such a short amount of time, and that’s all it took for Gojō to give him that fucking look. At least, Fushiguro thought it was only one thing, but the more Gojō started making little comments about the two of them, about how he thinks they’d be sooo cute together, he realized that maybe he had been unconsciously talking about you more than he thought. That was true too, but he wasn’t one for much talk and the little that he did say wasn’t enough to tip Gojō or anyone else off about his apparent interest in you. As it turns out, the phrase ‘actions speak louder than words’ is true, and that’s especially so for someone as observant as Gojō is.

He saw all the little things that most people probably didn’t have a second thought about, but he had known Megumi for a long time now so to him, his actions were clear as day. The little touches on your shoulder to gently move you out of the way, the way he would tend to gravitate towards you whenever all of you first years were on missions together, how distracted he’d be if you had a bit of a hard time fighting off a curse. Gojō could go on and on about the tiny ways Megumi treated you better, with more care, than anyone else, but he chose not to pester him too aggressively. He knew if he did that, Megumi would shut him down just as aggressively and dig deeper into the denial about his feelings for you. So instead, Gojō pushed him in little ways, like teaming you two together for training practices and in this case, sending you out together to get drinks.

Megumi knew that of course, that Gojō was messing with him, but man was it hard to say no when your face lit up and you exclaimed that you could actually go for a hot chocolate. So now here you were, walking side by side in silence that was currently doing nothing but make him overthink. Should he say something? Would that be weird? Or were you off put by the fact that he wasn’t saying anything? All the while he had that usual grumpy look on his face that was really just one of concentration, but you didn’t take it to heart regardless. You had known him long enough now to know that even when he did look upset, he kind of just had a resting grumpy face and it didn’t necessarily mean anything. Still, you would admit that you were feeling a bit awkward.

You liked Fushiguro, maybe a tad bit more than what you admitted to your other friends, but while the two of you were friendly and worked just fine together, you had never really spent time alone with one another outside of school, and as you walked through the slightly crowded sidewalks you realized you didn’t really know how he felt about you. Sure you were associates and classmates, but did he see you in that way? Did he only tolerate you? Or maybe he was just indifferent, not thinking of you as much more or much less than someone he worked along side. Even though you didn’t have any answers to said questions, you couldn’t say you were nervous to be out with him. In fact it was kind of nice, even if you weren’t talking much, and you were okay with settling and just internally gushing about it to yourself. So you kept to yourself with a slight smile on your face, stopping for a second here or there when something in one of the shop windows caught your eye or to press your cold hands to your mouth and blow warm air onto them.

You had said you were fine, but the temperature seemed to keep dropping, and when you felt a small damp prickle of iciness on your nose you realized why. That one snowflake slowly turned to many as snow began to fall steadily from the sky, catching on your hair and jacket but melting as soon as it came in contact with your cheeks. 

“Pfft, no wonder it’s gotten so cold. I seriously thought we weren’t going to get any snow until later on in the season, right?” You asked, turning to him with a laugh as you rubbed your arms as if that would do much to help through your coat. 

“Guess not.”, he said with another shrug. “Doesn’t look like it’ll stick though, we should be fine.”

He peered out of the corner of his eye at you, watching as you shoved your hands into your pockets and gave him a nod before looking up as you walked to watch the snow fall in a childlike awe. Something ticked in him, another one of those little irritating itches that he would get whenever you would do something like that. Something so simple, yet he couldn’t bring himself to look away. That, and the irrational part of him that was currently screaming at him to do something stupid, an internal voice that was getting louder and louder with every fall of a snowflake and shiver of your shoulders until finally he just had to give in.

He let out an annoyed huff, not at you but at the fact that he felt so stupid and absurdly flustered as he unwrapped his scarf and took his gloves off, temporarily shoving them into one pocket as he stopped to lean over and wrap his scarf snuggly around your neck instead. You jumped a little in surprise as you tore your eyes from the sky and gave him a quizzical look, but before you could say anything a pair of gloves that were a little too big for you were shoved into your hands as well. 

“Oh, thank you but I’m really-“

“It’s fine.” He cut you off, but not in a mean way. You noticed the hint of pink on his cheeks, but surely that was due to the cold, right? He sighed again in an attempt to make himself feel a little less tense as he continued on in a more relaxed tone. “Seriously, I was getting too warm anyways.”

Now you really couldn’t help but smile as you gave him a small nod before slipping on both gloves. They were too big just like you thought, but warm, and the fuzziness bristling in your stomach seemed to help warm you up as well. You absent mindedly tugged his scarf a little closer around you as the the two of you began to walk again, and your own cheeks began to heat up a bit as you inhaled his scent. Though you couldn’t really pinpoint what it was, it was like a little not-so-gentle reminder that he really did just give you his scarf and gloves to wear. You tried not to let it get to you, he was just being nice and he said he was too warm anyways, but you still had to bite your inner cheek to keep yourself from smiling too wildly and risk him thinking you’re a total creep. 

“Thanks Megumi, I appreciate it.” 

Oh god no.

He thought he had steeled himself but that caused him to stop in his tracks, only for a moment or two, before his body went into self preservation mode and moved on its own, but the way his heart skipped a beat in response to something as dumb as you calling him by his first name for the first time was everything but calm and collected. Still, as much as he tried to keep even an ounce of what he was really feeling from showing on his features, it only took that little halt in his step for you to realize what you just said.

“Oh, shit- I’m sorry. That’s probably kind of weird for me to call you.”

“It’s fine.” He repeated the same words he had said only a few minutes ago, only this time he didn’t sound nearly as confident. Whatever was going on in his chest was not, in fact, fine, but what was he supposed to say? ‘You treating me like I’m a close friend seriously fucks with my doubts of having a thing for you’? For heaven’s sake he could take out a literal murderous demon in the blink of an eye but god forbid he try to keep his normally cool composure in front of who he now had to admit was his crush.

“If it really isn’t fine you don’t have to act like it is.” You laughed out awkwardly, still having trouble trying to read his features. 

He hated seeing that bit of doubt and worry in your eyes, enough so that he shoved what he was feeling down even if it was just long enough for him to give some reassurance that you referring to him so casually was actually more than just ‘fine’.

“I’m not ‘acting’. If it really bothered me I would say something about it. Trust me, I’ve gotten good at telling people off...” He grumbled, his mood slightly souring at the mere thought of what Gojō would do if he could see him now, with color tinting his cheeks and his brain scrambling for the right words to say which, judging by the short laugh you gave that was simply music to his ears, he had successfully done.

“True, true. Guess I’ll just have to stay on your good side then, yeah? Dunno if I could take it if you were actually mad at me.”

He scoffed and muttered in response as he trudged ahead of you.

“As if you would ever be on my bad side…”

“Hm?”

“I said ‘can we hurry up before it gets worse outside’. If we take much longer Gojō is going to start blowing up my phone.” 

You laughed and then smiled in a way that you could only imagine looked incredibly goofy as you stared at his back while he continued walking ahead of you, maybe just a tiny bit giddy that he was ok with you being a little more personal and less formal with him. Surely that meant the two of you were friends, right? Or maybe he could think of you as something more some day…

“Are you coming with?”

“Yeah, yeah!” You exclaimed, shaking your head and leaving those thoughts for another time in order to allow yourself to enjoy this moment as it was, warmed in the face of the winter chill by a cozy set of winter clothes and a fuzzy feeling in your heart.

[aubekubels]

Boston (pt. II) | Joel Farabee

Sleepless nights and dial tones...

It wasn't fair; the hold you had on Joel.

You weren't aware of it and you weren't responsible for it. After all, it had been months since you had received his hoodie in the mail. Still, he couldn't stop sending voicemails once a week telling you everything you were missing out on. Joel was nothing, if not consistent, trying to make it work. You would listen to them, but never respond, and he was none the wiser.

Truth was, Joel could barely live with himself knowing he was the reason your bed was half empty and cold. One night turned his life upside down and inside out. You were completely serious about staying away from him. All the nights in his bed or your bed, holding his hand, watching a shitty movie... Why would he throw it away for another girl at a party? You were akin to the phrase 'drunken actions and words are sober thoughts' so you took everything that happened to heart.

Joel meant what he said when he told you to stay in Boston, but that didn't necessarily mean it was easy on him. He was trying to avoid things that reminded him of you just as much, but he still wanted to keep you in the loop, just in case the day would come.

If you were honest with yourself, Joel Farabee could break your heart a million times and you'd always want to go back to him. You needed to keep a brave face, though. You'd also be lying to yourself if you said you didn't miss him shouting 'babygirl' or 'my girl' from down the hallway. You wished every night he would walk through your apartment door and greet you with the phrase 'come here, pretty girl' after a loss. You wished you could feel his arms around you one more time.

You would occasionally put on his old hoodie and watch some of his games. Those were the nights he seemed to score a goal - almost as if he knew you were watching. You still wore the necklace he got you for your birthday and you still wore the socks he left behind to bed. You just couldn't shake Joel from your life, no matter how hard you wanted to.

You decided tonight was going to be the night you were going to finally say something to him, being this distant for this long wasn't working out for you. Even if it ended badly, you wanted to clear your conscience.

Once you decided you were filled with enough liquid courage, you grabbed your phone and opened your messages app. You scrolled down to find his name and proceeded to lock your phone; maybe you weren't ready for this. You let a few more minutes pass and you decided to call him, maybe if things went sour and he heard your voice, he could excuse it as a drunken mess.

You didn’t even pay attention to whether it sent you to voicemail or not before you began speaking.

“Hey, Joel… Uh… I’m drunk, I’m drinking… I just wanted to let you know that I listen to all of your voicemails and I’m infinitely proud of you and I just wish we could go back to the days where we went to Rita’s and when we would watch the stars and then fuck in your old Subaru and all the nights you somehow snuck past the RAs to sleep in my room and I just want you back Joel. You could break my heart a million times and I’m always gonna want you, Farabee.”

You took a deep breath, holding back tears.

“Okay.” Joel softly spoke, trying to hide the smile in his voice.

“Okay?” you repeated back, widening your eyes.

“Yeah, I’ll be in town in a few days with mom… We can find time to talk, I’ll text you.” When the day came to see him, he didn’t even text you. The plans were set, but not a text from Joel in sight. You thought he must have forgotten or made last minute plans. You were getting ready nonetheless, putting on a pair of jeans and a band tee. You didn’t expect anything to get anywhere, so you went for comfort. As you went to grab your keys, there was a knock on your door. You threw your head back and greeted the figure with a smile and a superficial ‘hello.’

“Hey, pretty girl...” Joel exhaled, as if a weight was lifted off of his shoulders. “I got your favorite.” he continued handing you a cup from Rita’s. “I figured you wouldn’t want to go anywhere, I know you like your lazy days. Plus, it was my turn to buy...”

He remembered.

Conversation started a little rough and awkward, followed by a small screaming match, and then another awkward silence. You two fell back into a routine shortly after. You couldn’t hold a grudge against him, no matter how hard you tried. As you were flipping through channels Joel snaked his arm around you, you mindlessly relaxed into it.

“You know...” Joel spoke up, before going on a short little speech about the feelings he had been hiding for the past few months. You nodded along with every other word. He grabbed your hand and laced his fingers with yours.

“Pretty girl, you could run a tornado through my heart every day… And I’ll still always love you.”

[tokisguitarpick]

balcony

characters: Pickles the Drummer x Reader

length: 1700+ words

listen this is really self indulgent but pickles’ back story hits me on a personal level. tried to phrase the mom self in a way that even someone with a good mom could see themselves in the reader but s/o to bitches who’s moms stress them out, we see you

You sighed, holding your own hand and staring up at the night sky, sat on top of Mordhaus. About three months into your employment, you had found the perfect place for lunch breaks, sneaking out with a joint mid-shift, anything. Up the emergency ladder, around the smokestacks, and over a large generator, there was a tiny balcony that no one seemed to know about and it was one of your favorite spots on the whole ship. And tonight, you needed it for the clarity it gave you. 

Nails bitten to the quick, you had spent a couple of hours pacing in your bedroom before making your way up here to sit in the peace and quiet and really just be alone.

“Doode, what ahre you doin’ up ‘ere?” Your eyes closed. Of course.

It’s not that you would normally mind Pickles for company. In fact, quite the opposite. Something about the drummer drew you to him and between his chill demeanor and frequent offers of hits off his joint, he was typically your favorite band member. But tonight, any company felt like more energy than you had to spend.

But it was your job to spend energy entertaining, safeguarding, and checking on Dethklok so you fixed your face into a neutral expression and replied, “I like to come up here when I need some fresh air.” 

Pickles swung himself over the generator with ease and plopped down next to you, both of you sticking your legs through the wide gaps under the balcony fencing and letting them hang down. “Oh yeah, me tooh.” As usual, the drummer brought with him the stale scent of alcohol and sweat, as well as the very pungent smell of fresh weed. “You know me, I like to be high.” Pickles chuckled at his own joke as you watched him pull a silver cigarette case from his back pocket but his laughter died on his lips when he met your gaze. “Sam’thin’ wrong?”

Your head tilted as you looked over yourself in your mind’s eye. “What do you mean?”

Slowly, Pickles raised a calloused thumb to your cheek and you felt him wipe away some wetness. Fuck. You hadn’t cried much and the cool night air had dried most of the tears as Mordhaus chugged forward but apparently, there was enough evidence left for him to find. 

“Yah knoow,” Pickles started, his eyes trained on his hand instead of meeting your own, “I’m naht really one for… talkin’ about feelin’s and shit. But ah, uh, I can listen?” His eyes were a deep, comforting shade of green, something you noticed when they finally met yours, his pierced eyebrows raising as he ended with a question. 

Your heart softened and you smiled softly, prompting a lopsided smirk from the drummer as he finally dropped his hand. He fiddled with the cigarette case in his lap until he produced a blunt and held it out for you. “So whaht’s goin’ on?”

Taking the blunt from him and then the offered lighter- a zippo with a dill pickle carved on the side-, you lit up and took a long drag before passing both back to him. The paper crackled next to you with his inhale and you stared at the sky again, breathing your hit out like a cloud in front of you. 

“My mom called.” No longer a happy notification to receive, the information turned your stomach. Ever since you had gone against her wishes and applied for the stressful, dangerous, terrifying job of being a managerial coordinator for the band Dethklok, she had turned into someone you could hardly recognize. Cold, petty, always passively asking for money and aggressively telling you how little you must care about her since you were always too busy to call her when she was free (not when you were, though. She was a busy woman and she couldn’t wait around all day just for a call). You assumed she was angry you hadn’t listened to her and was even angier that you didn’t volunteer those, frankly, sweet as hell Dethklok paychecks to appease her.

You glanced out of the corner of your eye to see Pickles make a sour face, his cheeks puffed with weed smoke. Releasing his hit with a cough, he passed the blunt and nodded. “I know that feelin’. When my mam’ calls, I send it straight tah’ voicemail.”

“Maybe I need to start doing that,” you mused quietly. Puff and pass, you moved your gaze down to watch the traffic passing on the various highways around the house.

“That bad?” Pickles asked, holding onto the blunt for a minute as he tried to fix a run in the burn. You didn’t mind, your high creeping up and the wad of anxiety in your stomach loosening. 

Turning your answer over in your mind a few times, you finally spoke when you realized you had been quiet for an embarrassingly long time. “She’s just different now. I feel like she’s not the same person I knew growing up and the person she is now… I don’t know if it’s a person I like.” You had wondered a few times if she was destined to become this woman but when memories resurfaced, you felt as though your current feelings tainted them and you weren’t sure what the truth was. “I just- I don’t know. Do you ever feel like your family would like you so much more if you just shut up and gave them all your spare cash?” 

This time, Pickles was the one who was silent for what seemed like a long time and when you finally looked up, you were surprised to see he had completely disassembled the blunt and was rolling a joint with the leftover weed on one side of the open cigarette case. It was balanced carefully on his thigh- full of a few dime bags of ground weed and spare rolling papers- but his face was angled towards you. “Uh, yeah. That’s all I feel when it comes to my family.” Bringing the joint up to his lips, he gave you a curious look, furrowing his brow. “Cahn I ask you sam’thin’?”

You nodded.

“Is yuhr mam’ hasslin’ you for money?” Lighting up with a couple of puffs, he passed the joint to you and leaned back on his palms.

That was the long and short of it from as far as you could tell, you mused. You took a deep hit, studying Pickles as you nodded again. Your high was hitting you and suddenly, the terse phone call that had been weighing on you seemed much less important than the physique of the drummer next to you. Long, deep red dreads flowed in the light evening breeze, drawing your eyes down his neck and shoulders. Almost always in a dark tank top, his muscular shoulders and arms stole the show, lithe and wirey from years of being a professional musician. God, he was hot. Sure, he was more than a little older than you, and balding just a little, and maybe unable to be sober for longer than a half hour without complaining. But otherwise, very hot. Your gaze fell to his hands, fingers with blunt nails spread to support himself, and the backs of his palms flexed with large veins.

You were only moments away from poking one when his voice broke your concentration. “Like whaht yah see?” Looking back to his face, Pickles’ smirk was now a full blown grin and he wiggled his eyebrows at you. “Wanna take a picture? It’ll last longer.”

“Sorry,” you chuckled, the heat of a blush finding your cheeks as you puffed and passed the joint, “I’m kinda stoned. Your weed is always so fucking strong.” 

Pickles broke out into nasally laughter and you couldn’t help giggling yourself in response. “That’s why I get it, only the good shit,” he replied, still chuckling. He puffed then snuffed the joint and tucked it behind his ear for safekeeping as he sat up.

Unable to get a handle on the stoned laughter coming out of you, your giggle fit continued and you leaned over, resting your forehead on his shoulder. You put a hand over your mouth as you tried to relax. Pickles shifted under you, letting your head find his collarbone as he wrapped his arm around your waist. He seemed to freeze like that and if you had been sober, you probably would’ve stayed that way, savoring the feeling of closeness with your celebrity crush in such a private moment. There were over a million Dethklok fans who would kill or die for this to happen to them.

But you were high as fuck and didn’t like how stiff the embrace felt. You shifted yourself to lean more comfortably against him without realizing it, until his hand started to fall from your side. Instantly, you grasped his wrist and brought it back to your hip, murmuring, “You’re good.” 

Pickles laughed again, squeezing you and resting his hand on your ribcage. He was so warm, you could feel his palmprint burning through the thin cotton of your sleepshirt, so close under your breast that it made you shiver. “Oh, honey, I could get you tah’ say that a hundred different ways,” he stated confidently. It made your blush burn even hotter, no matter how much you tried to ignore it. Pickles, however, cleared his throat and muttered, “Uh, not like in a sexuhal’ harassment type way, just, uh, yah know… If you were down…”

You giggled again and nodded. “I got you, I got you… I’m down.” You erupted into nervous giggles and covered your face with your hand again. Unable to believe your own gall, you were about to dismiss your words with a quick ‘I’m joking’ but Pickles moved faster, goosing your breast with a bark of laughter.

“I’ll keep thaht in mind,” he said, seemingly to himself, his hand resting once again on your torso. You couldn’t say anything, your body alight with tingles radiating from your breast and your mind slowed, so you simply nodded against him. 

Quiet for a moment, you tried to settle your breathing while Pickles relit the joint and puffed in thought. Finally speaking up, he just said, “Seriously though, Y/N, I think you need to tell your mom to go fuck herself.”

[machinegunbun]

Deserved It II+

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating

Req?: highly, but not by one specific person 

_

“If you don’t tell him tonight I am.” 

Colson had come over to yours and Pete's apartment, it was framed as a simple dinner, but you should’ve known there would’ve been alterior motive at hand.

“Nothing happened.”

He hadn’t let up since the night it happened. To be fair, neither had you. You laid awake at night next to Pete, watching as he slept and wondering if maybe something had happened. Wondering what he might do if he found out. The only thing you knew for sure was that you couldn’t let Colson be the one to tell him, that’d only make it worse.

“So tell him what didn’t happen, then.”

“There's no need to start unnecessary drama.”

“Drama about what?” Pete asks. You both went silent, your heads bowed in shame. What was with these boys and walking in at just the wrong time.

                                                           ~*~*~

“It’s nothing.” You say,  Pete laughed a bit at that, glancing between the two of you before his face dropped again.

“You guys seriously aren't gonna tell me?” He says, the hurt showing through his voice. You were the two people in his life he considered himself to be closest to, his bestfriends, and you were keeping something from him?  

“It’s really not a big deal.”

“So tell me.” Pete presses, Colson lets out a little “ha!” you glare over at him in response.

“You were in your dressing room.” Colson started for you

“And Shawn came in.” You continued reluctantly

“Shawn… mendes?” Pete asked, you nodded in response “What did he want?”

“I dunno. He comes in and starts talking to me about his mom and his sister,” and then we sat on the couch and stared into eachothers eyes like we hadn’t since the early part of our relationship, and I felt something. And maybe that wasn’t nothing, maybe Colson was right, maybe I should tell him. “and then Colson walked in.”

“On what?”

“Us talking.” and...

“On the couch. Alone. In her dressing room.” Colson adds

“That's it?” Pete asks, receiving quiet nods in response “So what's the problem?”

“There isn’t one. It’s nothing.” You insist

“That's bullshit. It wasn’t just talking. You were staring at each other when I walked in and you were going to kiss if I hadn’t.” Colson argues

“I was not about to kiss him.” Who were you convincing

“I know what I saw.”

“Nothing happened.”

“That’s bullshit, I walked in and you followed after me to tell me nothing happened without me even saying anything. You know what happened.”

“I never would’ve kissed him!” You yelled, entirely fed up with the situation

“But you wanted to!” Colson shouts back

Dear god, more silence.

“Is that true?” Pete asks, looking at you

“No.”

“Then say it.” He prods

“Say what?” You ask, clearly avoiding answering him

“Say you didn’t want to kiss him.”

“I didn’t wanna kiss him.” You mumble, eyes trained on the floor.

“Look me in the eye and tell me.”

“Pete, you know i'm not good at eye contact.”

 “It shouldn’t be a problem if you aren’t lying.” Try as you might, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, everyone knew it wasn’t just because you were bad at keeping eye contact. Colson shook his head, taking a seat on one of the stools as he lit a blunt.

“Fucking ridiculous.” Colson mumbles, smoke escaping from his mouth as he does so

“Colson, can you just- can you go sit in the hallway for a bit.” Pete asks, looking over to him and watching as he made his way out of the apartment. You walked over to the couch, the weight in your chest feeling like it was pulling you down, sitting to get some sense of relief. Pete came to sit next to you, leaving more space than usual.

“Nothing happened.” You stated again

“That wasn’t the question. Did you want it to?” It took you a moment to respond

“No, I don’t want him. I want you. You’re all I want.” You found that the words came easier without the audience, but Pete only nodded in response, putting an arm around you and pulling you closer, allowing you to bury your face in his neck.

“It’s okay.” He comforted, although he knew it wasn’t, but he couldn’t stand to see you cry.

“I'm sorry.”

“So what really happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why do you keep apologizing?” You went silent for a moment, thinking of how to phrase your next words.

“I don’t want him, I don’t miss him, but… seeing him there was weird. It reminded me of what we used to have, and I guess I missed a time before…”

“Me.” Pete completed

“No. Not at all. Just- The break up happened so abruptly. I thought we were gonna get married. I had all these people who I cared so deeply about and who I thought cared about me and they all left when he did. After we broke up I started doing drugs, I mean, I can never drink again in my life, because after we broke up I lost my mind and I drank too much. It was weird to look back and see something so similar to what I have now. Especially when it feels so different.” Pete remained quiet, his arm wrapped around you. You stayed like that for a few minutes, letting the silence wash over you as you searched for what to say next.

“You think I don’t miss a time before millions of people hated me? You think it didn’t hurt like shit when I lost my fiance? Of course it hurt, but it doesn’t matter to me anymore because it’s how I got you. You made me feel like a piece of shit, like I didn’t love you enough, constantly telling me that there was no way I could ever love you like I loved Ari and you acted like I resented you or something for not being more like her. But I never looked at any other girl that way once I met you. None. Then, I mean, just seeing him, sitting next to him, made something happen, be it physical or mental, that scared you so badly that you refused to tell me for who knows how long.” Pete said, looking at you with tears in his eyes “That doesn’t feel like nothing.” He began pulling away, taking his arm out from under you as he raised to a sitting position.

“Pete.” you said simply, wishing him to come back to your cuddling position.

“I think I’m gonna stay with Colson tonight.” you dazed out for a moment, the shock washing over you, and when you came back his hand was already on the door handle.

“Wait,” You call out, pulling yourself up to look over the couch “are we okay?”

“Dunno.” He says before shrugging and walking out into the hallway, the door shutting behind him and leaving you with the dinner in the oven and anxious thoughts flooding your mind.