#I’m sorry I didn’t mean to turn the tags into a rant oops

[plutoids-thoughts]

Am I listening to the age of extinction soundtrack for the fourth time this week? Unimportant.

What’s more important is WHO IS CUTTING ONIONS????

[everlarkficexchange]

Clubbing 101

Written by @alliswell21

Prompt 144: She has a night of fun before the start of the semester. She meets this guy, they hit it off that they sleep together. But when she shows up to her class the next day, she sees the guy again. But he’s her professor and he’s way older than she originally thought. #olderPeeta [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Rating: Explicit. NSFW. 

Tags and Warnings: Canon Divergence; College!AU; Age gap, older man/younger woman; The opposite to slow burn? Smut; Unprotected sex; technically impaired consent since alcohol, but their both into each other while sober too 🤷🏻‍♀️; Ethical dilemmas; Teacher/Student relationship (sort of); One Shot, with an ambiguous open ending? Almost 10K words. Unbetaed. 

Notes: Thank you to the moderators once more for putting up with us, procrastinating writers. You gals are saints! Thank you to @animekpopxx for her amazing prompts that never fail to snag my attention and give me the best ideas ever! You rock! I projected this story to be a smutty short thing, but it sprouted words and a background out of nowhere and I had to forced myself to stop adding to it, to get back to my other submissions waiting in my docs. Hopefully, it’s a good read for the ones who take the chance with it. 

Thank you all! 

KPKPKPKPKP

It starts with a harmless ranting. 

“I’m not outgoing, or fun. I’m not even ‘cool’… hell, I don’t care what my sister says, I’m too old for this place!” I tell the handsome, bearded, guy sitting in the barstool next to me, “She’s a med student, you know, but she insists that partying is part of the college experience, especially when one’s career is so demanding… plus, is the last weekend of summer break, which apparently means you’re contractually obligated to party extra hard,” I roll my eyes, “I never saw the appeal personally, but I let her drag me out here so I can keep an eye on her. Is not like I’m gonna let her piss away her future for a night of clubbing,” I scoff, taking a long pull of my beer.

The guy chuckles, but I’m not done just yet. 

I slam down my bottle and continue listing my grievances, “The thing that grinds my gears, is that she begged for a ‘girls’ night out’, and instead of drinking with me and people watch, she goes off with the first fucker that asks her to dance! I mean… did it ever occur to her, I may want to dance with her on OUR girls’ night out?!” I scowl and gulp another mouthful of beer, “then, to add insult to injury, thirty minutes later I get a text from her, saying to go on home without her ‘cause she found a ride, followed by that cursed eggplant emoji, like I needed an illustration of what kind of ride she’s getting,” I mock gag, rearranging the strap of my tiny purse across my chest. 

 “I guess she’s young, and beautiful, and does work very hard, but if you invite me to go clubbing with you, don’t abandon me within the first 15 minutes of arriving!”

My companion winces before sipping his drink, and smiling ruefully, “That’s harsh… sorry you’re having a shitty night,”

“Meh… little sisters, right?!” I shrug. 

The guy smiles crookedly at me, and I find myself enjoying his smile, “I wouldn’t know about that. I’m the baby of three brothers, and the only thing I got away with was learning how to wrestle and spring awesome comebacks on the fly… the brutes kept me on my toes,” he chuckles. 

“Three boys? Sounds chaotic. Your poor mother!” 

“Yeah… life’s chaotic.” He averts his eyes for a second, his smile goes away. I’m afraid I’ve said something wrong, but he suddenly looks back at me, and confesses, “I’m not into clubbing either.” His eyes sparkle, despite the awful, dim, blue lights bathing the place. 

I smile, “Look at us wallflowers, bonding over drinks and sibling shenanigans,” we clink our drinks together and sip. I’m chatty and relaxed, so unlike myself; I guess the two beers I’ve had are starting to get to me. “I’m Katniss, by the way.”

“That’s pretty,” he says, shyly; makes my chest warm up. “Nice to meet you, Katniss. I’m Peeta.”

I arch my eyebrows, “Peter?” I repeat, because I’m pretty sure I miss-heard him over the obnoxiously loud music. 

The guy shakes his head, “Pee-ta… like the bread?” He chuckles. Then adds, “Family name. Everyone on my dad’s side are bakers.” 

I snort-laugh, “Punny!” I say, taking another sip. Yup, beer’s getting to me, I’m not this cleverly funny. “My dad was into survivalism and botany… I’m named after a plant also known as Duck Potato, so I win the weird name competition!” 

“Hey, it’s something else to bond over,”

“Cheers to that!” We clink our drinks again, and partake in our booze. 

He orders another whiskey neat when he’s out… sounds both snooty and distinguished at the same time. Goes well with his put together image, though: nicely trimmed beard, nicely combed hair, nice polo shirt with what I believe is a tiny loaf of bread embroidered on the chest, and dark-wash jeans… I think. It’s hard to tell under the black lights of the club. 

He offers to get me another drink, and I order an appletini.

“J.D. from Scrubs always drank one,” I explain, swirling the coctel in my hand, “I’ve always been curious to try, but didn’t wanna spend my own money experimenting on a drink I could potentially hate.” 

“Makes sense,” Peeta says, “So… what’s the verdict?” 

“Is pretty good, actually. But I think I’ll stick with my Miller Light,” 

Peeta nods, “I honestly don’t enjoy alcohol that much.”

I giggle. “Then, what brings you to this fine establishment tonight, sir, if you’re not much for clubbing, or drinking?” I watch him out of the corner of my eye. 

I like that when he smiles, his eyes crinkle in the corners.

“I lost a bet against a colleague.”

“Oh,” I’m suddenly self conscious and a little uncomfortable. I give the guy a scrutinizing look, and ask suspiciously, “what was the punishment exactly?” 

The man rolls his eyes. “I have to spend one whole hour in the club, without criticizing anything, like the bitter old man I am,” he grins, “My friend’s words. Not mine!” He raises both hands, claiming innocence. 

I laugh at the face he pulls, “Well, you’ve just defaulted on that punishment,”

“How so?” He beams. 

“With the look in your face! It spoke volumes!” 

“Am I that transparent?” 

“You read like a preschooler’s board book, pal!” 

We both laugh, I drink my beer, and he throws back his whiskey neat. 

“So…” he makes a show of looking at his watch, “I still have 33 minutes to kill before I’m allowed to run out of this place… I know I’m not a Med student, co-Ed, sister of yours, but… would you, um, like to dance with me?” He sounds adorably hopeful. 

I glance at the man sideways, toying with my bottle. 

He smirks, mischievously, “I promise, spirits make me more coordinated on the dance floor. I become this amazing dancer when I have a couple of drinks on… or so my brain believes. I probably look like an idiot, but I’m too goofy to know the difference. You’re welcome to be the judge it for yourself,”

I take my sweet time finishing the last dregs of my beer, and wrinkle my nose, “You sure you wanna dance to this shit, kids call music nowadays?” I smirk, pointing a finger up, motioning wide circles into the ether. 

Peeta gives a full belly laugh.

I really do like his laugh! 

“Isn’t it our only choice?” He ventures. 

Not if you follow me home, my thirsty brain supplies; my lips on the other hand, just let through a hint of a smile, because I’m buzzed, but not drunk enough to proposition a total stranger. I’ve never been one to sleep around anyway.

“Okay,” I say, too enthused. “As long as we both agree that this isn’t music,”

“Oh no, this just barely passes as noise!” Peeta agrees readily. 

He guides me to the packed dance floor, and we start moving to the booming, deafening tunes playing overhead. 

I’m not sure if one could call this dancing. Everywhere I look people are writhing against each other, like a pack of zombies without grace or rhyme. 

I’m not sure Peeta will get an accurate assessment of his dancing skills, compared to what I’m seeing, he’ll probably look like a professional; plus, it’s too dark and busy in here to really appreciate anything, really, but after a few minutes of just shifting in place, robotically, I snatch two bottle beers from a waitress walking by, offering one to my partner, hoping that’s enough to get us loosen up. The waitress stares at me until I rummage on my crossbody mini purse and toss a crumple ten on her tray. 

The liquid boost works. Before I know it, I’m grinding my hips against his. Peeta’s just the right height for his thigh to fit between my legs and brush against my front. I get tired of undulating my arms in the air, so I drop them around his shoulders, and feel just how firm and broad he is under my touch. 

Our chests are tightly pressed together, and I’m at the right angle to just stare at his plush-looking lips. I turn around before I do something brash, like kiss him in the mouth. Peeta doesn’t question it, he just places his hands on my hips, and starts moving to the music’s beat. 

I bring the beer to my lips, but the bottle’s empty… oops! It doesn’t matter, I’m having the time of my life! 

Peeta’s swaying guides me. I basically drape my back over his front, and bump my ass into his groin. I feel the hint of a bulge there, and press my rear into it  again, just to confirm if I felt what I hope I felt. 

Peeta’s fingers tighten on my hip, emboldening me to keep going until I’m practically twerking into him, and his slight bulge morphs into a full blown hard-on. 

I twist in his arms to face him, my lust idled brain barely thinking rationally, “Are your 33 minutes done yet?” I yell into his ear, so he can hear me over the noise. 

He doesn’t even look at his watch, “To hell with time! I‘ll stay here all night, if you want me to,” He answers loudly. 

“Come on, then!” I push off his chest, and snatch up his hand before he can reply. 

Leaving the dance floor is surprisingly easily, considering the crowd bouncing in place together. 

I make no conscious plan on where we’re going; I’m arguably familiar with the layout of this place from my many visits since Prim turned 21; I’m only mildly surprised when we navigate across the club, all the way to the restrooms. It’s like my clit is making all the decisions tonight… good for it! 

There’s a line of disgruntled women waiting to get inside the Ladies Room, but the Men’s Room is available, and Peeta lets me guide him into it, like one of those pull toys children have. 

“It stinks in here,” I comment blandly, but make a beeline for the last stall with a door. 

There’s one guy at the urinal, but he doesn’t even look up from his pants, so I just shrug it off and yank Peeta into the stall with me. 

The space is tight, but once inside the stall, I push Peeta into the door, and attack his mouth. 

He makes a startled noise at the back of his throat, but his hands and arms immediately press me into his body more fully. My own hands trek down to his belt, where I fiddle with the buckle until it’s undone, and I can access his pants’ button and fly. 

He hisses when my fingers graze his warm erection, and bucks into my knuckles. I’m in the process of sticking my hand inside his boxers, when Peeta growls, sucking my lower lip into his mouth, and letting it go with a wet pop.

“Switch places,” he pants against my mouth, and hoists me up, until my back hits the door and his hands grab my hips possessively, jutting my pelvis forward, “I’m hungry, would you mind if I eat you out?” 

“Okay,” I gasp.

Thank you for forcing me to wear your tiny, clubbing dress, Prim! 

“You’ll allow it?” He asks, incredulous, rubbing circles on my hips with his thumbs. 

“Yes… I’ll allow it!”

His smile is sexy, his stare is hypnotic. Damned my drunken ass! I can’t believe I’m willing to do this in a smelly bathroom stall!

Peeta sits on the toilet and licks his lips while staring up at me. His hands disappear under the stretchy material of my skirt, bumping my purse out of his way. He skims his fingers under the elastic of my panties, and I bite my lip, nodding eagerly.

Slowly, Peeta slides my underwear down my legs, the tips of his fingers follow, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced!

Once he brings my panties to my knees, his hands rush back up my thighs, pushing the flimsy skirt around my waist. My underwear drops to my ankles on their own. 

Peeta’s level eye with my crotch, and I squirm restlessly. “Beautiful… absolutely soaked,” he whispers in a daze, he inhales pulling me closer, “You smell divine!” He descends, nose first, into the thatch of dark curls between my thighs, making me moan. He ruts his face against me, and suddenly drops to his knees, grabbing my calf to pull my leg up. 

But the movement gets prevented by my stupid underwear, tangled in my ankles. Without missing a beat, I toe my panties off, so Peeta can maneuver my body however he wants. 

He drapes my leg over his shoulder, opening me up to his ravenous mouth. He grunts, burying his face into my core, and finally, FINALLY, his tongue swipes between my folds.

“Fuck!” I squeak. 

My hands fly to tangle into his soft, perfectly coiffed hair. I nearly smother him, holding his face to my pussy, but he’s doing wicked things to me with his tongue: lapping, sucking, and nipping at my labia; drawing number eight figures around my clit with the tip of his tongue, to then sinking it deep inside my core. I can’t stop bucking into his mouth over and over.

When was the last time I was given head? Fuck if I know! Darius probably, he was decent, but didn’t do it often. And Thom was so boring at it, I actually preferred he didn’t do it. But this guy is amazing! A real expert in the matter! 

“I’m so close! Please… I’m so close,” I wail like a cat in heat, writhing against the door. 

Peeta looks up, and despite the horrendous lighting in the room, I realize he’s got the deepest blue eyes I’ve ever seen… too bad I can’t hold his gaze too long, because he starts rubbing my clit with his thumb, while fucking my hole with his tongue, and is all I can do not shout and scalp him in my delirium.

He doesn’t stop drinking my juices while I convulse above him. On the contrary, he retrieves his thumb, but keeps his mouth busy, lapping away all the slick I give him.

It’s too much.

I tug on his hair to pull him off of my sensitive privates. 

Peeta takes one last lick with the flat of his tongue and looks up at me, smiling wolfishly, “Was that good?” His beard’s dripping with me, he wipes some of it off on his sleeve. 

I snort, unsexy and definitely rude. “You made me cum so hard I saw stars… yeah, it was good. Better than good, really!” I smile down at him, and try to pull him off from the floor. 

All the gel holding his curls in place is gone now, rubbed off on my palms. His hair is sticking up on the top and towards the back of his head. I reach up to try and smooth it back, “I’m sorry, I seem to have made a mess of your hair,” I giggle. It’s adorable, but I feel bad that I ruined it. 

“You can mess my hair any time you want, Katniss.” He says, almost shyly, he places his hands on my waist, over the bunched up dress. 

It’s a big turn on to me, how his words are so flirty, but he delivers them so sweetly and awed. Is unexpected and endearing… which is odd, because I don’t usually find people endearing at all!

We both chuckle. 

He licks his lips, and I feel heat pool in my lower belly again. 

“Come’ere!” I wrap my hand around his nape, and pull his lips to mine. 

He responds immediately, licking the seam of my mouth. I suck on his tongue when he slides it against mine. 

He moans. 

“Fuck me, Peeta,” I rasp into the kiss, palming his dick through his jeans. 

He groans, “Are you sure?” He barely holds back another groan when I squeeze his clothed erection.

“Cock. In me. Now!” I command through gritted teeth, trying to pull his cock out of his pants with one hand, while taking his hand, and splaying it on my boob. 

“Okay… shit… this is… surreal! This has never happened to me before!” He kneads my tit, gently.

I’m not sure I was supposed to hear that, so I pretend I didn’t and turn, facing the door to wiggle my ass, in an attempt to convince him. 

Peeta makes a noise in his throat, quickly followed by the sound of shifting clothes, and a metallic thump from his belt buckle hitting the toilet. 

I whine when Peeta’s warm, heavy cock caressed my bare ass cheek. “Please don’t tease me,” I beg.

“Fuck, Katniss… do you really want this?”

“Yes, Peeta… put your cock inside my cunt, and fuck me all the way to next week! Now!” 

His warm body cocoons mine, “Anything you want, sweetheart,” he whispers into my ear, and I feel the blunt head of his cock parting my folds, coating himself with my natural lubricants.

He finds my entrance, pushing inside just the tip. He gasps, “Fuck!” One big hand wraps around my hip to keep me steady, bracing his other arm on the door, above my head. 

“Peeta… Please!” I wiggle my ass, making him sink another inch deep. 

“Hold still,” He hisses, “I’m trying to hold back… not ramming in too roughly… embarrassing myself, cumming too fast,” His hot breath warms my nape. “You feel like heaven!” He growls, tightening his hold on me. 

I’m torn, wishing he’d drill into me without mercy already, while another part of me is grateful he’s trying to stay under control… I don’t know which I want more… 

When was the last time I had sex? 

As if reading my thoughts, Peeta shares haltingly, “It’s been such a long time for me. I want it to last, but I’m

Not sure if I can,” 

I don’t have time to second guess myself, because Peeta’s moving, and he’s massive! 

“Don’t hold back!” I bleat, “I want it rough… I want it fast!” I gasp, clenching down on him. I paw at the door for purchase, trying not to face-plant on the cold, hard surface, while Peeta’s fat prick stretches me to the brink of pain! I can’t stay put for him any longer; I buck into him.

“I said to hold still!” He slaps my ass, hard. It stings, but it’s a welcomed feeling. 

I moan and melt, finally relaxing enough for him to penetrate me all the way to the hilt. He stays there a moment, breathing harshly into my neck, squeezing my hip on and off. 

“You’re so tight. So warm. So wet, Katniss.” He nuzzles my ear, “I’m gonna move now, I apologize beforehand in case this ends too soon for you…” He drags himself slowly out of me, just to plunge right back in with a swift, hard thrust. 

I squeak; he grunts.. 

Peeta holds me by the waist,  “You’re so pretty and sexy, Katniss. I can’t decide if you’re real, or the most vivid wet dream I’ve ever had…” he’s fucking me like a jackrabbit in rut.

I’m speechless, vaguely wondering if I didn’t dream him instead?

His cock head hits a spot deep inside me I’ve never reached before. I start babbling nonsense— mostly praising his cock and his strength— I don’t really know what I’m saying, but he seems to be enjoying it thoroughly by the increase in his speed and the volume of his grunts. 

I’m joisted up and down his shaft like a rag doll; I wish I’d thought of hanging my stupid little purse somewhere before we started, because now it’s bumping on my thighs, distracting me from the great ducking I’m getting; it’s no matter… I can feel my orgasm building in my belly.

“I’m gonna cum, sweetheart… I want you to cum too,” He nibbles on my earlobe. 

“Yes, Peeta! Please make me cum, I’m so close!”

One of his hands slides around my waist to play with my clit, while his other tweaks my nipples over my dress and bra. That, added to the sensation of my g-spot being prodded repeatedly, sends me spinning over the edge.

I must’ve screamed or something, because he clamps his hand over my mouth, and then he’s grunting, digging his forehead between my shoulder blades, and pulling me back against his unyielding body. 

“Fuck…” he gasps and shivers behind me. I feel his dick pulsing, his rhythm faltering, and then he goes still. 

Peeta sags a little, wedging his shoulder into the door to keep from falling. I’m surprised he still has the strength to hold me up too; I have to be dead weight at this point, since my legs feel like overcooked noodles and my arms gave out a minute ago.

We both try to catch our breaths, too spent and weak for much more, at least for a few minutes.

Peeta stirs. “Are you okay?” He breathes out, ruffling the loose wisps of my hair with his breath. 

I chuckle, leaning my sweaty temple on the cool door. “I can’t feel my toes… which is excellent!”

“Good,” he sighs. 

Three heart beats later, he straightens up and pulls out of me. An indecent amount of spend flows down my legs as soon as his cock dislodges from my pussy, but Peeta shoves something soft between my thighs quickly, before I have time to freak out about the mess.

I look down mildly curious, staring at an embroidery of a tiny loaf of bread. Vaguely, I wonder if that’s his uniform? He said he was a baker, right? At least he’s named after bread or something. I giggle. “Is this your shirt?” I ask, widening my stance to gracelessly wipe myself clean. 

“Yeah,” 

“Thank you,” I say, dazedly, turning sideways to smile at him gratefully. 

He’s wearing a simple, white, cotton t-shirt when I return the polo to him, now spoiled with cum and slick. I’m caught off guard by how broad shoulder he is, and by how nice he smells… cinnamon and sweat. Weird combination, but pleasant. I wonder if he baked any bread today? 

“Um… would you… would you like to put these back on?” He asks awkwardly, leaning down to pick up my discarded panties from besides the foot of the toilet bowl.

I wrinkle my nose, “Not really,” I mumble. “Who knows when was the last time that floor got cleaned. Gross.” 

Peeta smiles and shakes his head, “Here,” he grabs his polo, covered in our juices, and wraps my underwear in it. “Now it’s hidden.”

My body is finally catching up with the advanced hour, the beers and the two amazing orgasms. I’m starting to feel sore everywhere, and my eyelids are getting heavy. “Wow… think I’m officially all partied out,” I chuckle weakly.

“Ditto,” Peeta agrees, his smile is shy. “So… there’s this little dinner about two blocks from here,” he starts, eyes downcast; the space seems to shrink around us, now that the frenzy of our physical activities is done with. “Would you like to grab a pancake or som—“

My phone rings, startling us both into silence. I frown, but scramble to find it in my purse, to check who could be calling me… apparently at 2 a.m.!

My frown deepens. Prim’s smiling face flashes on the screen. She was supposed to be getting some herself! “It’s my sister,” I whisper, tamping down my rising panic. I don’t ask if it’s okay to answer, I just do it. “Prim?” 

“Where the hell are you?!” I have to pull the phone off, or risk eardrum rupture by my sister’s screeching. “I’ve been texting and calling you! I’ve been worried sick!”

I scowl at the wall, confused and little annoyed, “Prim… Prim, are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need me to come get you somewhere?” I try to ask.

“What?! No. I’m home! But you aren’t, and I’ve been scared shitless trying to find you!”

I give Peeta an apologetic grimace, and blindly feel around for the lock to get out of the stall. “Um… why are you home so early? Last time I heard from you, you were getting a ride,” I’m trying to sound unaffected; It’s all I can think to say in my mortification.

“Never mind that! Why aren’t you home already? I thought you had to work in the morning and then go to sch—” 

While Prim rages at me, I place a hand on the phone and turn to Peeta, still in the stall, awkwardly facing the wall, I assume to grant me some privacy. I’m sure he can hear my sister’s frantic chastisement from where he’s standing. “I’m sorry… you’d think I was a teenager instead of a grown ass adult,” I roll my eyes.

Peeta waves me off good naturedly. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for keeping you so late,”

I’m about to say something else, but Prim yells loudly, something about calling the police and checking the hospitals for me, which truly prompts a reaction from me, “Calm down! I’m still at the club, exactly where you left me!” I cover the phone with my palm again, and turn to him. “I’m… I’m gonna go? Before she threatens to send the marines in,” I try to joke, but our situation takes all the levity out of it, and my attempt dies off, lamely. 

Peeta nods, smiling softly; somehow I can tell it’s not genuine. 

“Little sisters, right?” I offer halfheartedly, twisting my lips. 

“Can I… walk you out at least?” He asks quietly; Prim hasn’t stopped nagging this whole time. 

“I… it’s not necessary, but thank you…” 

Peeta nods again, looking disappointed. 

I don’t get to tell him a proper goodbye, because two dude-bros come in the bathroom, letting the noise from the club filter in; one of the idiots elbows the other, and both start making some lewd comments about me, but Peeta steps in, eyes wild with anger, and tells the guys to knock it off. Prim hears the whole thing of course, and goes nuts herself asking what’s going on?

Peeta looks at me, and motions his head towards the door. 

Message received, I step outside the bathroom and book it out of the club, “I’ll be home in a bit. I’m gonna call and Uber,”

“Call me as soon as you’re in it!” Prim demands.

“Fine! Now stop nagging me, will you?!”

I don’t realize I never looked back at Peeta to wave my goodbyes until I’m in the car, heading home. Regret truly is a bitch. I can’t help feeling like I just lost something important, but I have no idea what it is. 

>>—————> * <————<<

It’s been a very long Monday. I’m mainly running on caffeine at the moment, and can’t wait to get home and pass out in my fluffy bed, to see if I can catch up on last nights lost hours of sleep. 

I enter my last class of the day and find a seat in the middle of the third row. I pull my laptop, a writing pad and my mechanical pencil out of my bag, and watch as my classmates start filtering in one by one, greeting each other and finding their places, lazily. 

I’m the oldest student in this class, which is not surprising. I’ve only just come back from my extended— 5 year— sabbatical; and did it only after I was completely sure I could handle my workload and the financial strain of both me and Prim going to college at the same time, without giving myself an early grave. 

It’s been hard, but I’m glad I came back to finish my schooling, I only need a handful of credits to graduate, which is great!

I check my watch. We still have a few minutes to kill before class starts. The professor— Dr. Mellark, according to the copy of my schedule— is not here yet, so I pull up the banking app on my phone to give it another glance. The balance is still the same as the last two times I’ve seen it, but it doesn’t hurt to be extra careful when one is on a tight budget. I scheduled payments for the power, gas and rent to go out in the next few days, and I want to make sure there’s enough money in the bank to cover them. We’re looking fine for the month, financially speaking. 

The door to the classroom swishes open, and I start signing off my app.

“Good afternoon ladies and germs; I’m doctor Mellark, and provided you’re in this room for an English class, I’ll like to welcome you to the amazing world of Classic Literature!” Says a deep, male voice I find oddly familiar. “By the way, don’t any of you dare to disagree with me on the awesomeness of classic lit… I’m a doctor, I know what I’m talking about… unless you ask me about medicine, then please be free to disregard everything I say, because I’m not ‘that’ kind of doctor!” 

A murmure of little chuckles fills the room; even I smile, silencing my phone and putting it away, before looking up at the professor.

I choke on a strangled gasp when I finally set eyes on the man I assume is the teacher, dumping a worn, leather, messenger bag on the desk near the podium. He’s the last person I would’ve expected to have as a professor.  

Oblivious to my predicament, Doctor Mellark— or as I know him: Peeta!— keeps introducing himself. 

“I’ve been teaching this course for 14th years, but I’m always pleasantly surprised to hear the different points of views my students bring to our discussions on the classics we study, which in a nutshell, is the beauty of this class.” He pulls a ream of paper out of his bag, and gives it to a student in the front, “Please take a syllabus, and pass the rest to the next person, and so on… thank you!” 

My face is burning. I think I’m gonna faint. 

“But enough about me,” his voice booms, making my whole body shiver. “I don’t normally do roll calls or care about attendance, as long as you’re not missing assignments, and are here during discussions, so this is the first and last time I’ll be reading this list,” he rises a piece of paper above his head, I surmise has the students names on it, and he instructs, before reading, “I’ll call your names, and you’ll introduce yourself, briefly, that way we can all get acquainted with each other, yes?” 

Ugh! 

He can scratch my name off that list right now! We’re more than acquainted with each other.

Bile rises to my throat. An intrusive, bitter thought pesters me: how many of his students has he gotten ‘that’ familiar with? 

But the thought dies off quickly. An even worse, more worrisome thought springs front and center in my mind: Did we use protection?!

Panic rises in my chest, a nervous queasiness settles in my belly; a distant memory of warm goo sliding down my legs comes to mind… Oh shit! 

Oh shit, oh shit! We didn’t use a freaking condom? Who does that?! 

Oh shit! 

Would a Plan B still be effective right now? It’s been less than 24 hours… 

Peeta’s reading names. People stand from their seats and talk about themselves. I haven’t heard one word they’ve said, but I’ve been watching how some of the female students bat their eyelashes and speak all breathily, smiling coyly at him… Peeta seems oblivious to the flirting, but I still feel a cocktail of unpleasant feelings in the pit of my stomach. 

I realize, I’m jealous!

My ass is frozen in my sit, I’m not even breathing. I don’t think Peeta’s seen me yet, but… what will he do or say once my name comes up? I send a quick prayer to heaven, he won’t recognize me since I look nothing like I did last night at the club, with my hair down and my face all made-up. Right now and plain ol’ me… the rub is gonna be my name. Darn my dad and his awful naming whims! 

Soon enough, he reads a name that makes him stutter, “Kat…Katniss? Everdeen?” He does a double take, “Katniss Everdeen…” his eyes are the size of saucers when he scans the lecture hall, swiftly. When he finds me, he looks back down at his paper, and says the name out loud again, unsure, “Katniss Everdeen?” Like he doesn’t believe what he’s reading. 

I stand up woodenly, my voice cracks a little, “I’m—I’m Katniss Everdeen… hi!” 

I’m about to drop back into my chair, but Peeta kinda mumbles, “You know, Arrowhead, or Katniss is a water plant? The root is edible… like a swamp potato?”

There are quiet little giggles all over the place. 

Peeta clears his throat, his eyes flit away; his face’s blank of emotion, but his cheeks seem pinker than a second earlier, “I just read that online, believe it or not. Interesting facts about local flora, people. Reading is knowledge, but so is learning from one another… what can you tell us about yourself, Miss Everdeen, besides that you have a very unique first name?”

“I…” I harrumph, avoiding eye contact with Peeta at all costs, “I’m a part time student. Majoring in Botany. I took this class to fulfill my last English credits requirement for graduation. I do love books and classic literature, in particular.” 

“Thank you… Miss Everdeen,” he rasps. 

I sit down, clumsily, hoping this horrible, horrible moment is just a nightmare and that I’ll wake up any second now, drooling on my desk, with indentations of my notepad on my cheek, because anything would be less embarrassing than what I’m going through at this point.

Mercifully, Peeta calls a different name, and then another, and then another. I don’t look up from my notepad once.

Peeta for his part, sounds stiff and monotonous— or so I’d like to think— no more jokes or clever sayings. Maybe he’s not as affected as I am about this ordeal, and I’m just making it a bigger deal than it really is? Maybe he does have experience sleeping with students— I mean, it’s not unheard off, right?— Not that either of us had any idea we were engaging in a teacher-student affair last night… 

Although, calling it an affair is generous; it was a measly one night stand. A chance encounter. Two people letting off steam before a busy week ahead. 

I’m getting increasingly angry with all this thinking… and the class seems to drag on. It feels like an eternity, and my mind keeps churning up all kinds of questions: Why would he not say he was a teacher at this particular college? Did he lie about being a baker? Is his name even Peeta? 

I scoffed at the thought.

To my horror, I hear him ask, “Anything to say, Miss Everdeen?” 

Looking up at him requires a great deal of bravery and self admonishment, but I do my best and face him— he’s wearing glasses now, which makes my belly tightened for inexplicable reasons— “No, Doctor Mellark, nothing of consequence anyway,” I retort as venemosly as possible, without alerting anyone else there’s something weird going on between me and the professor. 

Peeta grimaces slightly. Then looks away, “Very well, as I was saying, we will start with the basics: The Iliad and Moby Dick, since those are High school level works, I expect your reports to be sufficiently well researched, and your personal ideas on the text somewhat fleshed out. It doesn’t have to be in-depth. I’m just looking to determine everyone’s style and needs for the semester ahead…” he continues his spiel, and I feel free to go back to my stewing and my musings. 

Before I know it, Peeta’s dismissing the class, wishing everyone a good rest of their evening. 

I jump into action, packing my stuff with my head bowed, but then I hear him again.

“Miss Everdeen, a private word, please?” It’s much too quiet to have been said from his podium. I still startled when I look up and find him standing right against the first row of desks, directly in front of me. 

His face is not quite stern, but he’s definitely less smiley than when we met. 

I force down a gasp, because under the better lighting of the lecture hall, and close up, I can see a plethora of details I missed at the club; like the arresting blue of his eyes, the slight reddish of his neatly trimmed beard, peppered with silver whiskers all over, while his perfectly combed hair is almost all silver on the temples, and ashy blonde on the top. His shoulders are even broader than I remember. 

He’s overall stockier than I originally thought, and just a smidge shorter, which is fine, he’s still the most handsome man I’ve ever met, and I wouldn’t mind climbing him like a tree—

I shake my head off the intrusive, lecheros thoughts. I’m literally lusting after my teacher, for goodness sakes! This is beyond a silly schoolgirl crush!

Peeta arches one dark blonde eyebrow at me, expectantly. 

I nod curtly, because my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, and gesture for him to lead the way.

I shove my laptop into my bag, and hastily shoulder the straps, hugging my writing pad to my chest, following my professor like a chastened little girl. 

My stupid eyes find his ass, and I blink twice, at the exquisite sight in front of me. I groan internally. 

He grabs his own bag, takes off his spectacles and slides them into his shirt pocket. 

How old is this man?! He said he’s been teaching this class for 14 years, when do professors start their teaching careers? How did I never see him before now roaming campus? Is his age the reason he ate pussy like a master? 

I shake my head, cursing my horny brain. 

Peeta opens a door I have no idea how we came across, and then stands aside, gesturing for me to go in first. 

I duck my head and step into a warmly decorated office, with a small desk and two chairs in the middle of the room. Bookshelves full of tomes line the office. A handful of pictures and framed diplomas hang from the only available wall space in the room, but I don’t get to study them before he catches my undivided attention. 

“Let me start by apologizing,” Peeta stars, closing the door behind himself, “I assure you, it wasn’t my intention to cause you any stress, or embarrassment out there.” He pauses, “Would you like to sit?” He offers, wincing. He doesn’t wait and steps around me, to pace on the other side of his desk, “I… um, never been in this position before,” he scowls, “I’m not sure what assurances I can offer at the moment, except, that I will start the process to recuse myself from this class immediately, to not interfere with your academic—“

“Recuse yourself?” I cut him off, “what do you mean?” 

Peeta squirms a little, and sits down heavily on his chair. My bag slides off my shoulder, and I just dump it in the empty chair I was offered a moment ago. 

“Well, Miss Everdeen, it’s the right thing to do, given our circumstances. We’ve breached the appropriate boundaries of our pupil and teacher positions, and staying in the same class together will put you at a disadvantage… is a power imbalance situation, that calls for action.”

“Can you stop calling me ‘Miss Everdeen’? It’s weird…”

“I’m just trying to maintain an acceptable level of decorum between us,” he says sheepishly. 

“That ship has already sailed,” I say tiredly.

“Perhaps, but it’s my responsibility to still try,” he rubs his forehead. “Anyway, I’ll call my department and see what is next. Stepping down myself is the only fair solution I see so far… it would be terribly unfair to ask you to switch classes. Simply disrespectful, but we both can agree this uncomfortable situation needs to be nipped in the bud, for both our sakes, Miss Everdeen.”

“This is bullshit!” I snap, “What happened in that club, isn’t that terrible of a problem! What we really need to do is stop acting so stiffly and guilty. By the way, you sound like a walking thesaurus!” I accuse, looking him in the eyes for the first time since he called my name at the lecture hall. “Stop it!” 

Peeta inhales deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Miss Everdeen, our actions last night may have been honest, and even innocent in nature, but they still carry consequences… unexpected ones, especially in light of the facts. And the facts are, that it would be unethical for me to remain in a position of authority over you. In any case… if you feel the need to report me to the school administration, for… harassment or inappropriate behavior or anything else, I won’t dispute any claims. I promise to distance myself from you and give you space so you can continue with your education without interference, in a safe environment.”

I grunt, “I’m not going to report you, because you didn’t do anything wrong. Sure, I thought you were a baker… I mean your story about your name, and that little loaf of bread embroidered into your shirt, I thought it was your uniform,” I shrug one shoulder. 

“Sorry about that… I never meant to mislead you,” he says bashful. 

I ignore him, “Either way, I was the one pulling you into that bathroom. I threw myself at you. I begged you to do things to me, and you just granted me my wishes…” like a sexy gentleman, “The sex is on me. I’m 26 years old, I’m not some bumbling teenager who hasn’t learned to take responsibility for her actions, so, please… stop trying to shield me, or protect me, or whatever it is you’re doing,” my arms flap around in frustration. I finally push my bag off the chair, and sink into it. “Look, Peeta—“

“Professor…” he corrects, frowning a little.

I roll my eyes, if he knew he’s just making it sound kinkier than it already is, he wouldn’t be so adamant about the freaking titles. 

“Fine… Doctor Mellark,” I enunciate, pettily. “I specifically chose your class as my last English elective for two reasons. One: it’s exactly the amount of credits I need to graduate at the end of the semester. And two: it fits my schedule to a T, which is important, since I do have a full time job when I’m not a college student. So, I’m sure we can both be adults about this unfortunate situation, and simply forge on. There’s no need for you to recuse from teaching this class, and I have absolutely no intention of switching. We both can wear our big people britches, and pretend last night was a… what did you call it?” I wave my hands, as if the answer will materialize from thin air, “A vivid wet dream? And leave it at that!”

Peeta glares at me, looking aggravated for the first time since I met him. “It’ll be unethical to continue like everything is normal, Miss Everdeen.” Peeta argues, stubbornly. 

“Nobody has to know about last night,” I say, exasperated, then a horrifying thought flashes in my mind, “Unless you bragged about it already!”

“No!” He straightens in his chair, looking offended, “I would never do something so vile,” He looks indignant, “plus, the fact still remains that something did happen last night, and I know about it! I can’t, in good faith, be your teacher.”

“Are you planning on showing me favoritism because you know what my pussy tastes like, Peeta?” I deadpan, “Or are you gonna blackmail me into doing it again?” 

“Stop calling me Peeta!” He growls through his teeth, his very thick fingers clenching into fists on his armrests. 

I blink at his reaction owlishly, realizing I’m truly pushing it this time. 

“I’ve always prided myself on keeping my nose clean. Being a decent man and tutor. Never in 17 years of teaching have I slept with a co-ed, let alone a student in my own class.” He breathes deeply, then pins me to my chair, with those arresting blue eyes of his, burning with controlled anger, “I would never extort you or anyone for sexual favors, Katniss. While I don’t really want to lose my tenure or face other disciplinary actions from the school authorities, the one thing I truly don’t want to damage are my personal standards, and my self image.

“Katniss, I’m already biased when it comes to you. Being your professor won’t be exactly fair to anyone. I’m not saying I would give you A’s willy-nilly, nor that I would grade your papers any differently than I’d do your peers or that I’d be less critical of your work,” 

“That’s reassuring,” I roll my eyes. “You’re telling me that if I bring you a shit essay, you might not be persuaded to let me redo it?” 

He sighs, “I don’t know…” he scratches the back of his neck, “I’ll most likely hover over your desk a disproportionate amount of time compared to your classmates. There’s also a chance I’ll call on your name more often than the rest of them?”

“I still don’t hear one unscrupulous, wrong reason, why you can’t do your job, and teach this class.”

We sit there, staring at each other, at an impasse. 

“Why are you so set on keeping me in that room, Miss Everdeen?” He asks, softly. 

Finally, I relent, relaxing my tense shoulders, and exhaling tiredly. I raise my hands in defeat. “I don’t know, Peeta. Because I want to protect you, the same way you’re trying to protect me. But… recuse yourself if you have to. I still believe you’re a better man than your urges.” 

Peeta relaxes in his chair too, “Thank you, Katniss.You didn’t have to say that, specially because you don’t know me. It still means a lot.”

I chew the inside of my lip, calculating stuff in my head. “You’re right, I don’t know you, but I consider myself an okay judge of character.” He opened this door, it’s time for me to walk through it, “Can I ask you some stuff?” I ask innocently.

Peeta arches his eyebrows. “Shoot,” he says. 

“How old are you?” 

“45. I’m sorry. I knew you were young last night… I just didn’t quite grasp just how young,” his eyes shift downwards, sheepish and uncomfortable. 

“I’m an adult. I’ve been the head of my family for years. At this point, age is irrelevant for me.” I state, dismissively.

“What about your family?” He asks, tilting his head sideways.

It takes me a minute to answer. I cross my arms over my stomach, and exhale, “It’s been only Primrose and I for five years now. My mother had cancer. My father passed when I was eleven.” I rock in my chair, slightly, “That’s why my sister was being such a clingy bitch last night. She can’t bear to lose anyone else. Neither can I for that matter.”

Peeta leans forward on his desk. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Katniss.”

I sit back, feeling like a huge weight just got lifted off my shoulders. “It’s okay, really. I’m back in school, about to finish my last semester, Prim is doing great in university, the only debt we have right now is Prim’s car and my Target card… we are actually okay,” I smile, meekly at him. 

“That’s… that’s good, Katniss. Admirable, really.”

“Peeta?” I start cautiously, “Would you really remove yourself from the class because of me?” 

He looks me right in the eye, sincerity emanating fro his eyes. “Absolutely. Without hesitation. As soon as you leave, I’ll email my Head of Department, explaining my situation. Don’t worry, I won’t mention any names or details—“

I shake my head, vehemently. 

Peeta squints, studying me cautiously, measuring me. 

“Please… stay with me…” 

Something in my tone catches his attention, and he eyes me curiously. “I’ve already told you why I can’t,” he says, almost soothingly. 

I stand up. Go around my chair, and drop back down into it. I start shaking my leg nervously. “I had this feeling in my gut since last night. Like I lost something precious, I just couldn’t put a finger on it… I still can’t, to be honest. All I know, in my loins, is that I can’t let you step down from your position, and I sure as hell won’t walk away on you without figuring out what this…” I wiggle my fingers, pointing to the mouth of my stomach, “feeling is about.”

He stares at me. 

I stand up again, and this time I just pace, to the wall with the pictures, and stare at a bunch of faces, too similar to Peeta’s not to be related to him somehow. 

“I know I’m not making sense, but I just needed to say that.”

He watches me for a long beat, weighing his options no doubt, before answering, “I can’t be your teacher, Katniss…” he sighs, and rubs his forehead, “because I’m afraid seeing you every week, without being able to touch you will be absolute torture.”

“Really?” I bite my lip, giving him an open once over, not feeling one iota self conscious about. “How come?” 

Peeta huffs, avoiding my eyes. “I’d be wondering what your breasts look like the whole time.” He confesses, flatly. “I didn’t get a chance to see them last night, and it kept me awake an indecent amount of time.” He twists his lips, “I’m gonna be pinning the whole semester, whether you’re in the classroom or not, craving the taste of your juices in my tongue, and worse of all, I’ll probably embarrass myself, giving me involuntary hard on’s just fantasizing about you.”

I practically prowl towards him. “You poor thing,” I coo, pouting. “Would you go home to masturbate on the soiled pair of panties I left behind on that dirty, bathroom floor?” I ask… more like, purr, really. 

Peeta chuffs out an incredulous laugh, covering his face with both hands. He grunts, “Aw, fuck! That sounds so… it’s probably exactly what could happen. I’d try to stay professional in the classroom, but in the privacy of my home…” he chuckles weakly, shaking his head.

“What kind of fantasies are we entertaining here?” I ask, invested, and sit on the corner of his desk. 

Peeta thins out his mouth, “Katniss… that’s a slippery slope you’re trying to climb,” he warns.

“Humor me?” I cajole. 

He takes a stuttering breath. “I’ll bring you into this office, same way I did today, except I’ll rip your clothes off, throw you on the desk and take you hard and fast. From behind.” 

I can’t stop a small sound at the back of my throat, nor the need to rub my thighs together. 

I clear my throat, “I expect you’d want to fuck me on every surface in this office?”

Peeta pulls on the collar of his shirt, his face turning crimson, “And probably the lecture hall as well,” he adds conversationally. 

I nod, scooting closer to where he sits. “I’m curious too you know. I didn’t get to see ‘any’ part of you naked. But my muscles still are deliciously sore from last night. A girl has to wonder… just how big a dick has to be to cause so much wreckage?” 

It doesn’t take much effort at all to work him up. Peeta’s pants are tented in what looks like the most uncomfortable erection ever; he shifts in his chair to try and hide the effect my words have on him, yet, his hands remain folded on his lap, white knuckled with the effort of keeping himself in check. He’s really committed not to touch me while I’m still his student, but he rasps a question, full of concern. 

“Did I hurt you?” His eyes search me, earnestly. “I’m sorry I was too rough, really,”

My heart gives a little somersault. “No, Peeta. You were pure perfection. I loved how you handled me.”

His lips twitch, and I’m amazed at how expressive his face is, even partially hidden under his near facial hair. “You said you were hungry last night before you got on your knees…” I murmur, “I think, next time I’ll return the favor,”

“Next time?”

I slide closer to him, but we both keep our hands to ourselves.

I lick my lips, resisting the urge to drop on my knees between his legs and gobble up his cock. I didn’t lie about wanting to see him in all his naked glory, but I can show the same level of restraint he does; I respect him for trying to keep a moral and ethical compass.

I smirk at him, slyly. “Are you sure you wanna abandon your post as my professor, now that my education is on the balance? We can wait a handful of months, Doctor Mellark… I promise not to tease you,” With that, I mean, I promise not to aggravate what could potentially be the worst case of blue balls in the history of slow burns.

Peeta hisses a mirthless chuckle, “You’re too much of a temptation, even if you don’t actively try teasing me, Katniss,”

I start playing with the end of my braided, dark hair. “You know what I’m most really looking forward to, from when I’m no longer your student?” I pose, shyly, “Going to that dinner you mentioned last night.” I shrug one shoulder. “I’ll let you buy me a stack of pancakes to celebrate my graduation. I’ll probably introduce you to my sister, Primrose… and we’d go from there… if you wanted to…”

Peeta smiles, disarmingly. “I’d love that too, Miss Everdeen.” He says quietly.

I let go of my braid, and hug myself, “Stay in the class?” I practically beg one last time. “We can do it, I know we can. We can have a platonic, completely innocent teacher-student relationship until I’m done with college,”

Peeta shakes his head. “We’ll see after I talk to my head of department. Who knows, maybe all the schedules are already locked in place, and I have no other choice but to stay put. There’s no guarantee a replacement is available for me.”

“We’ll make it work!” I say enthusiastically. 

“Maybe…” he sighs, not entirely convinced. 

I pull my phone out of my pocket to check the time. Time is running out, I gotta get to the pharmacy before my window of opportunity closes. 

“Hey, Peeta… um, invasive, weird question?” 

I wait for him to nod.

“Have you by any chance, have gotten a vasectomy at any point?” 

“Mmm no, never had. Why?”

Aw shit! 

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Hopefully no reason.” I say quickly, too nonchalant for my own good, and he catches on it, I can see the gears turning in his brain, “Okay,” I make a big show of yawning and stretching my arms, “I have to run some errands before going home and crashing for the night.”

Peeta cringes, “Are you… okay? Really, okay? You said you were sore?” His eyes rove over my face full of concern. 

“I’m fine,” I smile, “nothing a long soaking in Epsom salts can’t cure.”

“Okay,” he says, unsure. “I don’t want to overstep any worse than I already have, but… I’ve been anxious, wondering if you were alright, if you got home fine to your sister since you left the club. Which, obviously you did… but, I wanted to kick myself for not asking your number, just to be able to check on you… and this is frown upon, a d completely unethical, but—“

“I’ll email you,” I say quickly. “Nothing explicit. But I’ll let you know I’m home and okay.” I’ve spoken to people in code before, this shouldn’t be a problem, and really, sending my professor an email with a time stamp and some innocuous question about the syllabus doesn’t have to be nefarious at all. 

“Alright… Just let me know if there’s anything wrong, okay? I swear this won’t become a routine thing or anything, just this time, to give me peace of mind, and because it is late… and well, yesterday…”

“It’s fine, professor. I don’t mind. And… everything will work out,” I say shouldering my bag and pocketing my phone, “everything will work out, even if my Plan B doesn’t,” I smile and scurry out the door, before the puzzlement in his face has time to settle. 

After all, a semester is only 15 weeks long, give or take… that’s plenty of time to figure things out. 

[cat-sapphics]

Hey!

I follow the" aroace lesbian" tag and your recent posts have come up in my feed so I just wanted to say that being arospec, acespec (demiromatic graysexual, both labels in the aromantic and asexual spectrums) & lesbian is completely OKAY and you should not let anyone tell you the contrary. Especially uneducated people so 😚🤍

Many aroaces use the term aroace to encompass being in both aromantic and asexual spectrums; this means you experience little to no romantic/sexual attraction and that's more than valid. You can be both arospec and aspec! 🔥 Or arospec and asexual. Aromantic and acespec 🥺🤝

The way YOU experience romantic and sexual attraction is just different to the average allo person, & that doesn't make it any less valid. Attraction is an abstract concept and we shouldn't be putting ourselves into boxes but letting feelings be that, feelings.

Your experiences are necessary and important to our diverse & big aro/ace communities as an aroace lesbian! An aspec person is that who experiences little to no romantic attraction. That's it. THAT'S OKAY 🥰

And being an aspec lesbian is more than valid too, it's not a contradictory term because the little and fluctuating romantic & sexual attraction you DO experience, is ONLY towards women/nb so; I don't see why lesbian isn't a term you can't use. A lesbian is a women/nb female aligned person who experiences romantic, sexual and/or emotional attraction towards women/nb female aligned people. Check, check & check ✅

All in all, ace lesbians, aro lesbians and aroace lesbians are ALL part of the lesbian community & our unique experiences with romance and sex are necessary and valid for it 💓

Sorry if this got long, hope I made my point clear. Aroace lesbians have always been lesbians so don't let any exclusionists steal your peace 🧡🤍💖

thank you!! thank ya thank ya thank ya!! i really appreciate it <3

i will say, i think some of the anons i got did make some valid points (obviously not everywhere you look but they at least gave me something to think about in general) but it really took me by surprise how condescending and disapproving they all were. super uneducated too, i said i experience attraction differently or at least less frequently than average allo people and like ?? that doesn't mean i'm secretly a self-hating lesbophobe ?? you don't get to determine that for me if i'm genuinely happy even though i participate in lesbian discourse and am passionate about keeping the definition specific and closed ?? lol i didn't redefine lesbian or take away its initial meaning so it really had me peeved

i think most of their comments reflect on how they don't believe in aromanticism and asexuality being a spectrum, which i guess i invited by my own doing since i have some conservative and exclusionary views on the lgbt community and that affects my following/audience, but my response to that is that i use these labels because they bring me personal comfort. when i say i'm demiromantic i don't mean that alloromantics have zero standards when it comes to a potential partner or are completely mesmerized by the idea of hook-ups, just that the connection they need to start crushing comes within a decent time period with a personal connection, but not a super strong and deep and loving one that makes it exceptionally hard to fall in love despite however much we may desire to. the label doesn't exist to imply something bad about """normal""" people, it exists to name an experience many people have but to an intense degree. so, yes, it's a pointless social construct, it probably means nothing to you and that's fine, but it still means something to me. i'm not crying oppression or marginalization, and i'm not claiming that i'm lgbt on the basis of being demiromantic/greyasexual, but through being a nonbinary lesbian. that's the difference between mspec lesbians and aspec lesbians, is one is actively harmful to multiple groups and actually Does spawn from a place of internalized lesbophobia and/or biphobia, and the other is just "mmk this is just for me and affects nothing at all, it doesn't drag you into anything at all, i still qualify for lesbian the way you (should!) see it as technically even if you do believe it's redundant, so just... leave me alone" cause it reflects more on them than me when they make it their business by unfairly assuming things about me

same applies to me being greyasexual. still trying to figure out if it means that i experience sexual/physical attraction less frequently, less intensely, or both, but does that matter?? genuinely?? this is also redundant but i didn’t wanna leave it out of the paragraph about me being demiro fk;ljslkgbdvhbs. the aro disapproval part isn’t acceptable at all but i can at least see it since romance is so normalized and is a core part of, y’know, lgb relationships; the greyace disapproval however....... i don’t wanna label it as acephobia because i don’t really believe in aphobia being a thing, but it still kinda rubs me wrong to claim that sexual/physical attraction is a requirement ykyk... NOTHING WRONG WITH PEOPLE WHO HAVE SEX OF COURSE (i myself kinda wanna try someday if that works out) i just think frowning upon someone who doesn’t UNLESS they try to claim they’re lgbt on that basis is.................. not really cool. i really hope people who read this understand what i’m trying to say and don’t label me as an ace inclus who thinks aphobia and oppression are real, i was just trying to make a point about my personal experiences oops lmao

and then it became "aroace means NO ATTRACTION AT ALL" okay... so i'm angled aroace, that's a sub-term since aroace is literally an umbrella term, actually (unlike lesbian, shit's complicated ykyk). "YOU'RE NOT AROACE THEN"....... they don't even like the idea of oriented aroace now either, so like, what then, are aroace people just never allowed to feel love or positive feelings from other people ever? jesus christ. i'm not even getting into this, i consider aro/ace identities to be secondary to describe one's attraction so this debate should not be as important as, say, discourse centering the L, G, B, or T. it's just dumb all around tbh

hope i addressed all the arguments against it, but i can't really care at this point if i missed something :/ i'll probably get a mean anon about it so don't worry!! /s jslgjgjkshkj;lhfp

speaking of, i've had to delete so many anons and even turn off the option to ask anonymously because of this discourse. it's so pointless in my opinion, so i've just stopped giving them my time unless i think it's worth answering - but even then, i try to keep it fairly short. i genuinely was not expecting my take on (cishet) ace discourse to turn into myself failing to be seen as a "real lesbian" despite literally meeting its definitive qualifications and then it just kept building up ?? stan behavior tbh, especially since plenty of them obviously come from the same users

i apologize for the rant. i just never really felt like i'd be listened to if i tried to explain my identity, so i gave up and just tried to ignore my way out of it. so i really genuinely appreciate your ask, especially since i can identify you. it really feels like i actually have someone on my side now, so even if you ever disagree i'd know you wouldn't harass me about it. it really means a lot, i really needed this from you and i don't wanna dump more shit but i feel that you deserve to know. so thank you again <3

[godess-ofthe-underworld]

Love Finds A Way

(sequel to “See You Again”) ( A Hary Hook X Reader story)

Part 6

Harry sauntered into the chip shop after his encounter with the former occupants of the Isle.  His mind still drifted to Hadley and her scared expression as he pointed his hook in her face.  He mentally kicked himself as he promised her long ago that he would never point his hook at her face.

 He groaned as he sat down at a table, kicking his feet up and rubbing his hands down his face slightly smearing the eyeliner around his eyes.

He only put it on because he knew Hadley liked it, she always said it made his eyes seem more menacing, and maybe it would her her to break if she saw it but no such luck.

Uma came around from the back and saw Harry propped against the table.  She knocked his feet down, startling the young pirate and causing him to yelp as the chair fell to the floor.

“Well? Is she coming?” Uma asked crossing her arms.

“Yeah I don't see why they wouldn't. I gave them a pretty irresitsable ultimatum.” Harry grunted.

“ Wait.. wait. Who's they?” Uma raised an eyebrow.

“ Mal.” 

“And?” 

Harry didn't respond right away, he just continued to look at the floor.

“Harry!” 

Harry mumbled something as Uma rested her hands on the table.

“What was that?” She tilted her head.

“ Hadley.” Harry spoke, his voice was low and his eyes stayed put on the floor not daring to look at his Capitan.

“Did I tell you to invite the hot head?!” Uma shouted

“ I did it for meself!’ Harry roared as he forcefully stood up, knocking over the chair. 

Uma laughed.

“Oh Harry.  She left you remember? She doesn't care about you.  It's been six months, get over it.” Uma shot.

Each word cut into Harry's chest like a searing red-hot knife. 

“ I know.” He whimpered. 

“ Just remember where your loyalties lie.” Uma growled.

 Uma sauntered away from the table, leaving Harry to pick up his chair.

He sat back down and slammed his head on the he table top groaning as he did.

An hour past and the time for Hadley and Mal to arrive neared closer.  Meaning Harry grew more nervous and Uma grew more agitated.

She slammed a tray of fried fish on the table in front of a witch causing some to spill onto the table top.

“ Hey! I wanted the fried clams!” The witch complained.

“ And I wanted a sea pony. Life ain't fair!” Uma retorted, making the witch jump back.

Harry was tapping his hook on the table when the two swing doors flung open.

All heads turned to the two new additions to the shop, some gashping and some growling.

“ We're baaaack.” Mal and Hadley sung still standing in the doorway.

Harry's head shot directly to Hadley as he stood up. 

Uma laughed as she went to stand by harry.

“Losers, party of two. Right this way please.” Uma gestured to an empty table in front if them.  Uma pushed a chair towards mal, who caught it before it hit her.

“ Place still stinks.” Hadley commented, wrinkling her nose at the putrid smell of fish.

“Oh I'm sorry. We're down a Butler today.  Princesses.” Uma scoffed.

Hadley went to pull up an empty chair when a large hand covered hers.

Hadley looked up to see Harry had grabbed her hand, his blue eyes seemed stone cold.

“Let's go. We need to talk.” Harry stated looking anywhere but at her.

Hadley looked to Mal as Harry drug her from the shop by her wrist.  

He took her to an alley next to the shop.  He let go of her arm and started pacing in front of her.

Hadley cast her eyes to the wet, muddy ground, kicking some rocks around. 

“Why?” Harry voice broke through the silence causing Hadley to snap her head to look at him.  He'd stopped pacing and was standing in front of Hadley. 

When she opened her mouth to ask what he meant he silenced her with his hand.

“You promised me you wouldn't.  You promised we would get out of here together.  It's been six months Hadley and I've heard nothin’ from you.  You're over there living the perfect little life not giving a single care about me.  You left me here hoping that you'd come back. Did you even think about me when you chose to stay? Hm? Cause you weren't wearing the necklace then.  Just like you aren't now.  What? Did you forget I existed the minute you stepped foot in Auradon?  Did you ever care about me at all?” Harry's voice got louder and louder and by the time her finished ranting.

Hadely stepped forward. “ That's not true.. I-I-” 

“ Save it.  You lied to me.  I waited six months.. six months for you to come back here.  And now the only reason you're here is to get you precious King and princess back.” 

“Harry..-” her voice came out broken and quiet.

Before Hadley could return any answers, Mal came slamming out the doors of the shop. 

“Hadley! Let's go!” Mal shouted.

Hadley turned back to Harry not sure of what to say.  She backed out of the alley keeping her eyes on him.  She watched as his head hung and his shoulders slumped as she backed up.

“I never forgot you Harry.” She whispered.

Harry looked up just as her hair flicked around the corner.

Hadley jogged to keep up with Mal who seemed unsettled.

“ Mal wait up! What happened in there?” Hadley panted as she caught up.

Mal stopped and sighed “ Uma wants the wand, in exchange for Ben and Ruby.” 

Hadley stared wide eyed as Mal walked on.

'great here we go again with the whole wand thing’ Hadley groaned out loud rushing to catch up.

A/n: Hey guys! forgot it was Friday again yesterday... oops.  anyway here is Part 6.  if you liked this part and would like part 7 please like and comment.  aslo if you would like to read the illustrated version you can do so on my Wattpad (@phelpsphan).  As Always if you would like to be added to the tag list please message me. <3 <3 <3 Summary: You would think that six months in Auradon would do any villain kid good.  Well, not Hadley.  After the events of the Coronation, Hadley's mood took a downward spiral; and for one reason, guilt.  She'd broken a promise and left her best friend on the Isle of the Lost.  How will she handle seeing him again when certain circumstances bring her back to the Isle? Will she finally tell him what she really feels?  

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters in Descendants.  Hadley and the plot between her and Harry are mine. 

Tag list: @unded-bride

[chaninfused]

Today, this mediocre blog turns one year old.

And it’s not much, but it’s something, for sure. I’m happy to be writing this, mainly because I didn’t expect to write it in the first place. Coming here, I had no aspirations for this blog. Write and post, that was my initial intent, but I’m glad to say I have found and created much more. As cliché as it sounds, I’ve learned and improved quite a lot, both as a person and a writer. Never in my life had I imagined myself writing y/n stories, yet here I am, and I’m content.

As much as I complain, I cannot deny that this place made this year bearable so far. Everyone, from my friends to my silent readers, made this experience fun, despite the various disappointments of 2020 (ahem, a ruined senior year). For that, I think it’s time to move to the important parts of this letter; all I have to say to you!

First, I must thank the friends that gave me something to look forward to each day. I am honored to have met you all, whom I have spoken to daily or spontaneously. Thank you for keeping up with my sucky person antics!

@luvhjs, I often wonder if we could’ve ever met if @skzwritersclub didn’t exist, or if you didn’t decide to join our fetus network, and I always conclude that it’s not something I want to think about. Simply because it’s horrifying. I might not express it properly, but our friendship is one I treasure beyond words. Thank you for panicking with me over silly things, listening to my nonsense rambles, and in all sincerity, being the best there is. A hundred ‘I love you’s randomly arriving in your inbox would never be enough, but I hope you know that I love you, and I wish you all the best, all the time ♡

@missinghan, I don’t know where to begin, and honestly, I don’t know where to stop either. I don’t regret screaming into your dms that day, although I’m deeply sorry for terrifying you (oops!). All jokes aside, I truly don’t know what I’ve done to deserve a friend like you. I’m grateful for each conversation we’ve had, even that one about maggot cheese or those depressing texts about our dying dashboards. I solemnly believe that I would’ve lost my mind during spring break had we not spent careless hours on Tumblr talking about anything that could possibly be talked about. I feel like I couldn’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me; for hearing my writing rants to handling my dramatics to just being there when I send a good morning text in all caps. You are incredible, it is not just a silly nickname. I love you, and I know affection is gross but I’m saying it again. I love you! ♡

@meiiyue, hey, remember when you told me you knew me from Wattpad? That was our first proper interaction, and I am so glad I had gotten to know you better after that. We often joke about it, but I love your love for all things murder. Please never let anyone’s opinions get in your way. You honestly have one of the most unique personalities I’ve ever known. I mean, where else would you find koalas and blood-chilling crime in one place? Thank you for being the cutest and most talented. I hope you know that you’re loved, and I love you, and it will always be that way ♡

@meanhly, oh, look, it’s my keyboard smashing partner! I’m glad you decided to panic about On track in my dms instead of my askbox. Thank you for birthing this beautiful friendship! Speaking of which, what friendship level are we at now, Selina? Okay, I’ll stop fooling around. Thank you for never failing to make me laugh, no thanks to your autocorrect for calling me fruit, though. I think one of the reasons I love the Songless Bird so much is, well, you! It was your excitement about the story that pushed me to explore the world more, to write more. I cannot even begin to express how thankful I am for that. I love you, so much, and I cherish our friendship just as much ♡

@smileylino, our ‘02 line is only complete with you, Rain. Thank you for being the best panic partner (hehe) and the cutest Minho stan. Talking to you is always so much fun, even if we’re just discussing memes or soft scenarios. I don’t know how successfully your Minho detox is going, but I miss your random declarations of love for the one and only. I hope you know that you’re really talented, and I’ll always be here to cheer you on whenever. You deserve only the best this world can offer. I know you’ll do amazing, whatever it is you’ll be doing. I love you! ♡

@lixiefe, if anyone were to see our first interactions, they wouldn’t expect us to become good friends. Yet here we are, and I wouldn’t change that for the world! I love talking to you, even if it’s about the strangest of topics. Thank you for making me love my own work. You make it out to be something special, which it isn’t, but I appreciate that so much. Thank you for handling my self-deprecating statements with hilarious poop references, even though I am still adamantly against them (kidding!). You’re special, I hope you’d know that. I love you so much! ♡

@scriptura-delirus​, we might not interact a lot but whenever we do, it’s always so much fun. I truly admire your work and your way of thinking. Thank you for writing the best fantasy to be found in this fandom, and for all the support you’ve shown my mediocre stories. If this were a follow forever, know that your url would be among the first. I love you! ♡

@jeonginks​, can I consider you a friend? I hope I can. The entirety of my first interactions with you consisted of me embarrassing myself, from that useless blurb to all that panicking. Thank you for not blocking me yet... I am very sure that without SWC, I wouldn’t have ever talked to you. And while I might not panic anymore, you are still someone I genuinely look up to when it comes to writing. I wish you’d know that you’re an inspiration, for me and many writers out there. Also, you can send me as many Liam memes as you want, I’ve become immune to them (phew). I presume this is called affection, but I love you! ♡

@scxrlettwxtches​, writing or not, you’re a dear friend of mine. I’m terrible at expressing things, but I’m glad we started talking. Thank you for listening to all the unnecessary writing things I say. I love your work, even though I don’t say it enough. You might not know but your enthusiasm motivates me to write; all the random questions and spoiler requests. I’m sorry for [redacted] in ‘Row, Row, Row Your Boat’. I hope I’ve been able to make up for that through the blurbs! All in all, I wish you all the best in everything you do, and I love you! ♡

@f3lixlvr​, you are the first person I have properly spoken to in his hellhole. I remember our first conversations and just how much joy they brought me, even though I was hiding behind an anonymous profile. Thank you for being the most amazing and making late 2019 fun and exciting. I love you! ♡

@wingkkun​, we only began directly interacting recently, but we’ve talked before. Your writing is great, beyond that, even. I’ll raid your masterlist one day, just you wait! You seem like a complete sweetheart, and I hope we can talk more in the future. Thank you for all the lovely tags you had left on my stories, I love you! ♡

@ammuqwer​, you are a friend I didn’t expect to make, but one I wouldn’t want to lose for anything. Talking to you brightens my day, and I can only wish I can offer just as much happiness in yours. You’re amazing, really. If you ever have a hard time, please know that you can always find me. I love you! ♡

@p2q3r4​, I often scroll through your blog and I have to say, you’re crazy talented. Your drawings are stunning! Thank you for all the comments you’ve left on my writings, I appreciate every single one of them. You’re also a complete sweetheart, have I ever told you that? And I love your love for languages, it never was annoying. Never stop being amazing, I love you! ♡

🌷 anon, I might not know who you might be, but you’re a friend I cherish so much, Tulip. I love talking to you, and I say that a lot, but hearing from you is always so lovely. Thank you for all the asks you’ve ever sent, those with tmi to those with Splatoon talk. I hope you know that I’ll always be there for you, whenever, wherever. I love you so much! ♡

Caeliman Minho anon, last but definitely not least. I’m afraid this short letter wouldn’t do you justice, but I hope you’d know that you mean a lot to me. Thank you for all the support you’ve shown my work, all the inspiration you’ve given me, and all the thoughts you’ve generously shared. I love hearing what you have to say, and I love you! Thank you for everything ♡

Second, to all my readers, those who always reblog, those who leave a trail of hearts behind, and even those who just pass by, thank you for giving my writings a chance. I am continuously motivated to write more and write better for you. I’m nowhere near that, but I’m slowly making my way up there. Thank you for being the best audience ♡

Finally, to you reading this, thank you for reaching this far. It has only been a year, and I hope I can continue to contribute to this fandom for much longer than that.

Today, a story was meant to be posted. Due to my poor management skills (yikes!), I will instead be posting the world-information edit for ‘Danse Macabre’. Please look forward to it!

That is all. Thank you for making these 365 days on this blog special, and here’s to many more! I love you all! ♡

[ultrahamilham]

You tagged me in a thing and I had a stroke, bless you

I get all Pikachu meme whenever I see you in my dash and you've referred to me and acknowledged my existence because it is literally the best thing ever, I have a mini stroke every time

Three ships: Jamilton, Jamilams and Jamilmads (would've said lams but then it just sounds like I'm saying the same ship in three different ways lol)

Last song: Uhh, I don't listen to music much, but Ultimately by Khai dreams

Last movie: The Hunchback of Notre dame

Currently craving: Sushi, oddly enough (I haven't had it in about nine years but still, want)

Currently reading: The Da Vinci code, and about five different fanfictions

About a very late answer to your question (My family has COVID, which is shocking to hear, or so I'm told, but they're recovering and they fortunately had a mild case and no one has any history of disease so they're going to be okay! That's what the doctor said and I'm praying), Taco hell made me laugh really hard when I read it and really lifted my spirits because I remember being in not a great place when I started it but it made me smile which was like, a thing for me, and don't judge me but I think The three way was probably my favourite and I don't want to think about what that says about me but it was really because I love works that are that long (around 50k is always my sweet spot). I'm not sure if I'm remembering right and I'm so so sorry if I'm getting the title song wrong but that one Jamilton fic with uh, Gucci and fendi in the title was really fun to read ;-;

I also remeber the first work of yours I ever read was this comfort Whamilton around 1.5 or 2k where it starts raining and Alexander is on edge but George comforts him- Okay, I'm ranting now, apologies. ;-; (idk You're super cool and I want to talk to you like, normally, but you'll hateee me and I don't want that and so here)

I never really get a chance to respond as soon as I'd like, BUT I never get to and if you don't want to know/care about my life- please skip to the next paragraph thank you. So, I did end up watching Snowpiercer! I watched all ten episodes in one day which is iffy to say the least, but I'm still alive! I did love it. And I've been alright- a bit anxious with everything, but I've been giving my tests and uni and stuff. Yesterday, I was about to go to the vet when u realised about two minutes into the ride that I forgot my dog so that was embarrassing. Almost competing with the time I dropped my phone and then followed it, dropping to my knees and immediately bursting into tears (Nothing even happened to my phone!). So if you read this, thank you again.

I wanted to ask how you were doing too! If you don't mind xxx

And as for the fanfic writer asks, would you mind answering 50 ;-;

Wgjfvqkcwkh also I heard about you and Henni getting married so CONGRATULATIONS that is the most amazing, sweetest thing and in honestly so f*cking happy for both of you. I audibly awwed when I saw that post and I can't believe I just remembered.

I'm so sorry this got out of hand with how long it is, I didn't mean for it to be ;-;

-shy anon, sincerely apologising for possibly ruining your day by oversharing and/or overstepping (also with love and congratulations for you and her)

I get the surprised pikachu face whenever you show up in my ask box ;-; It always makes me happy!!!

Okay but sushi is always good. The craving comes randomly for me as well. I didn’t crave it at all when I used to make it for a living, because I got so tired of it, but now I crave it every once in a while lol it’s really good ;-;

I really hope everyone is doing okay! COVID is scary and it’s no joke. Having it before was horrible for me and I would never wish it on anyone. I hope everyone including you is okay ;-;

I’m glad Taco Hell did what I was meaning for it to do! It’s meant to be lighthearted and make people laugh. It’s based off of my life and it’s actual situations I end up in all the time. It’s quite amusing lol

I would never judge you. The Three Way is literally the one fic I am most proud of. I could never judge you. I literally go back and read it every once in a while and go like “I made that... Holy fuck...”

Oh! Gucci Not Fendi is the title. I’m glad you liked it!!!

Rant all you want! I adore that Whamilton fic ;-;

Seriously, my dear, I can promise you that I won’t hate you at all. Believe me, I really won’t. I’m probably the most awkward and annoying person anyone will ever know and I overshare like everything. People know more about me than they really should.. Lol

I care about your life, I was the one that asked you to tell me! But honestly, snowpiercer was soooo good... Like I tried to binge it all in one day but I was trying to write as well and it didn’t go over well lmao, snowpiercer ended up winning! I’m really glad you watched it!!!

That whole forgetting your dog thing is a mood. Today I forgot to turn on the food heaters and I realized it right before it was too late. Almost lost $200 worth of meat... Oops... Lmao

I do that with my phone if I drop it even if it’s okay. I just freak the fuck out and cry before I know if there really is an issue

Also I’m doing good! I decided to just lay back and relax tonight so I’m having a few drinks and I’m gonna watch random shit lol I was up for 33 hours the night before last and slept for 15 hours after. I can’t recommend doing that, especially not when you’re like 24. I’m too old for that shit.

Hell yeah I can do 50! I will give you a sneak peak at the 3rd part of the three way... .-. It will be posted on Oct 19th!!!

Here it is. This is seriously NSFW lol:

Alexander looked down at Thomas and ran the fingers of his free hand through Thomas' hair. He licked his lips as he watched Thomas work his tongue expertly inside George. "You're such a good boy Thomas, you're already wrecking him." He purred. 

Thomas let out a low moan and kept up the work, getting a little more aggressive. Alexander could feel himself getting hard in his pants at the sight coupled with George's shameless moans. Alexander looked back at George's face and grinned a bit. "Are you proud of us, Daddy?" He asked. 

George pressed his forehead against the headrest and panted as Thomas wrecked him. He tried to push back against Thomas to no avail. "Fuck… Y-yes… Yes you two did so good… Please… Please do as you wish… Whatever you choose, do it… I will take whatever you give me, you de-deserve it…" George bit out desperately.

Alexander grinned in delight at that. He looked at Thomas who looked just as excited from what George just said. He then touched Thomas' shoulder. "Alright, that's enough babe. I'm going to stretch him, then we can give him a good spanking. Why don't you undress for me? I have a little treat for you." He purred.  -END of the preview.

Thank you so much! We are so freaking happy that it’s happening. We were planning it more today! It’s so amazing ugh.

I appreciate it all the same! It’s not too long for me at all!! Don’t you worry my dear <3 you didn’t overstep at all!

[thehelleniclunarwitch]

13 Days of Christmas [Day 02]

Day 02: Scrooge - Diego Hargreeves

Tagged: @justgrits  @charmed-asylum

                       xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“You know he’s going to find out,” Five said. 

You shot him a look. “No, he isn’t,”

“Y/n, Diego has hated Christmas since we were kids. He’s going to find out about your Christmas party,” Five explained. 

“The only reason he’ll find out about it is if you keep running your damn mouth,” You growled. 

Five grinned. “I just can’t control myself,”

“Well, you better because if you ruin this for Y/n. I’ll kill you for her,” Ben said as he tossed down a box of decorations. 

“All I’m saying is that Diego hates Christmas but is good at finding things out. He’s going to know something is up when we all start ignoring him around 5 pm tonight,” Five pointed out as he plugged in a set of lights. 

“Patch is having him work on a case. That’s all he’s been talking about. Patch and her partner are going to keep him busy all day and through the night. That will give us plenty of time to decorate, set up, and actually have the party,” You explained. 

“Y/n, I’m done with the tree do you want to see it?” Vanya asked poking her head into your bedroom. 

“Yes,” You beamed with sparkling eyes. 

Leaving Five and Ben in the kitchen to finish setting up you followed Vanya out to the living room. She and Klaus had been busy decorating the living room and setting up the tree. It was perfect. 

“It’s perfect!” You exclaimed. 

“Thank god, Vanya kept making us redoing it a thousand times,” Klaus sighed flopping down on the couch. 

Vanya shot her brother a look. “I just wanted it to be perfect,”

“And it is! You did a great job, Vanya,” You said pulling her in for a hug. 

“A little help here!” Luther yelled as he struggled to push open the door with his arms full of boxes. 

“Oops sorry,” Allison giggled before dashing out of your bedroom to grab the door for Luther. 

“Y/n, did you order the whole menu?” Luther grumbled as he carried the boxes into the kitchen. 

“I love you boys, but you eat me out of house and home. I wanted to make sure I had enough snacks,” You told him as you followed him back into the kitchen. 

Vanya and Allison started to grab the cold foods and stacked them into your fridge. Klaus grabbed the drinks and started shoving them into coolers filled with ice. The seven of you were busy rearranging the kitchen trying to get all of the food into a home until the party when a voice cleared behind you. 

All seven of you froze. You let out a curse under your breath before forcing a smile and turning around. Diego stood there with his hands on his hips. 

“Hi baby,” You greeted.

“What is going on here?” Diego asked. 

“Um, nothing really, I thought you were working a case with Patch?” You asked. 

Diego ignored you as he started to look at his siblings and then around your apartment. You noticed the way his eyes narrowed when he started to notice all of the Christmas decorations. 

“Are you throwing a Christmas party?” Diego asked. 

“What? Pfft, no,” You tried lying. 

Diego turned his dark eyes onto you. You sighed. 

“Fine, damn it, yeah, we were going to have a party while you were at work with Patch,” You told him. 

Diego looked at his siblings. 

“All of you were in on this?” Diego asked. 

His siblings all nodded in unison. 

“Diego, I, uh, know how you around this time of the year and instead of torturing with parties, Christmas music, presents, and conversation I thought we could do it while you were working so you wouldn’t have to feel out of place,” You explained. 

“What are you trying to say?” Diego asked. 

“Dude, you’re a scrooge,” Five said. 

“I’m not that bad,” Diego started. 

“Diego, you ripped the speakers out of the wall at the Academy when Vanya turned on Christmas music,” Allison said. 

“And when we were at the mall the one time and a kid started crying you started ranting raving about presents and how all kids should get coal because they can’t be good,” Klaus added. 

“A few years ago, when the neighbor kids build a snowman you purposely kicked it over and then when you came back home you parked your car on top of it so they couldn’t try and fix it,” Ben said. 

“D, we weren’t trying to be hurtful and leave you out,” Luther quickly said. 

“Whatever. I’ll just grab something to eat at the diner before returning to work,” Diego snarled turning on his heels and storming out. 

“I told you,” Five said from behind you. “Ow,”

Ben had hit him on the back of his head. You squeezed past Klaus and started running after Diego. 

“Diego, wait!” You shouted after him. 

Diego was just pushing the door open when you slid in front of him. 

“You’re not going to leave here without talking to me,” You told him. 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Diego said. 

“That’s bull. Now start talking before I get Luther to carry you upstairs and tie you down so we can have an adult conversation,” You threatened. 

Diego sighed. 

“If I hurt your feelings I’m sorry and it wasn’t intentional,” You apologized. 

“Am I really that insufferable?” Diego asked. 

“Only around this time of the year. Which is fine, Diego. You don’t have to like Christmas. I’m okay with that, but the rest of us do want to enjoy it so instead of making you suffer through it we just wanted to do it on our own,” You told him. 

“I don’t mean to be this miserable,” Diego said. 

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Diego, okay?” You said. 

“Am I ruining the holidays for you?” Diego asked. 

“Ruining the holidays? No, you just make it more challenging,” You teased with a soft smile. 

Diego laughed. 

“I should be able to suck it up and put a smile on my face for you,” Diego said. 

“You wouldn’t ask me to do something that I wasn’t comfortable with and I wouldn’t ask that of you,” You said. 

Diego pulled you in against his chest. 

“And if you’re upset about us going behind your back, we don’t have to have the party,” You said. 

Diego pulled back so he could look down at you. He leaned down and kissed you softly. 

“Have your party. Enjoy your time with your friends and my siblings. I’ll be over after work,” Diego said.

“Really? Are you sure?” You asked him. 

“Yes. And actually, I have a present for you,” Diego smiled. 

Your eyes lit up. “What?”

“But you’ll have to wait until after work. I need to get going,” Diego said. 

“Now that’s not fair,” You pouted. 

Diego laughed. “I think that’s a deserving punishment for hiding the party from me,”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, that’s fair,”

Diego kissed you once more before heading back to work. You hurried back upstairs to let his siblings know that you smoothed it over. As a team, the seven of you finished setting up for the party. The siblings had eventually left and then returned once they had changed into their party outfits and brought back presents. 

The rest of the night went smoothly. Klaus kept you on your feet by dancing with you all night long. Ben started playing the piano and others began singing. Vanya stayed close to your side when you weren’t dancing. Allison and Luther were working the room and Five poured drinks for everyone and only talking to the people he tolerated. 

As the night began to wind down and your guests left leaving you and siblings behind. You had to force them all to leave. They had wanted to stay behind and help clean up but you had reassured them that the mess would still be there in the morning. All of you needed to be heading to bed and sleeping off the alcohol. 

You had just kicked off your heels and were struggling to unzip your dress when a familiar set of hands brushed against your skin. You jumped and looked over your shoulder. Diego was staring at you. 

“I didn’t hear you come in,” You told him. 

“I was trying to make sure everybody was gone before I came back to see you,” Diego admitted. 

He unzipped your dress and released it so it pooled around your feet. He pressed several kisses to your back. He turned you around so he could kiss you. 

“Would you like your Christmas gift?” Diego asked. 

“From the Scrooge himself? I’d be honored,” You teased. 

Diego rolled his eyes before walking away. Alone, you quickly threw on your sweatpants and one of Diego’s shirts before going after him. You found him in the living room. His hands were behind his back and your narrowed your eyes at him. 

“That better not be a knife,” You joked. 

Diego laughed and shook his head. 

“You’re something else, you know,” Diego pointed out. 

“Oh, I know,” You smiled. 

“I wanted to do this earlier in the year. This is a special gift, but I know how much you like this holiday and I know that everyone knows I hate Christmas. That I’m the new version of the Scrooge. So I’ve been holding onto this to make this Christmas a special one,” Diego said. 

“Diego,” You said in confusion. 

Diego dropped down onto one knee. “I hear you. All of you about me being a Scrooge around this time of the year. I knew that it was going to take something magical to make me want to celebrate Christmas and to look forward to it. So I knew the magical moment I needed was to be a happy one I create with you. I love you. I’ve loved you since we were kids. I want to build a life with you. I want to start a family with you and grow old with you. Y/n, will you marry me?” Diego asked. 

Tears were welling up in your eyes. “Yes! One hundred thousand percent yes!”

Diego laughed, slid the ring onto your finger, and then hoisted you up. You giggled as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him. This was hands down the best Christmas ever.     

[givemequeen]

the beatles x reader

request: oop! i mean medication refill like anti-depressives and yes, i mean like upbeat when i say happy go lucky! Sorry about the confusion! :-) a/n:  guys im so sorry, i want to upload more but i dont have time to write :( pairing: beatles x reader (platonic) summary: the reader, who is normally happy, is really sad because her anti-depressive meds aren’t coming warnings: depression? word count: 771

Fuck why was it taking so long? The refill should have been here two days ago but each time you went to collect it they said it wasn’t here yet. This shouldn’t be allowed to happen. If they say they are going to give you something for your mental health they should. The effects of the medication you were taking were starting to wear off and you seriously needed the medication now more than ever.

The guys would notice soon and then you would have to explain everything to them. What if they didn’t want to be your friend anymore? What if they didn’t want to keep up with all your luggage? What if you were too much for them to handle and they just dropped you? These negative thoughts were getting the better of you and you hadn’t left your room in days.

John, Paul, Ringo and George noticed your absence in the studio. You worked for them as their personal assistant and they missed you. They didn’t mind not having an assistant since they never really ordered you around, they missed having you. Without your laugh, your jokes and your smile the studio was much duller and it was having an impact on them.

So after the third day of not having you, they went over to your place. When you didn’t come to the door they used their own key to come in. Your flat was dark, all the curtains closed and they could hear your faint crying coming from your room. They stopped halfway down the hallway when they heard the noises that emerged from your room.

“I’ll go in there with Ringo.” Paul quickly whispered. “George and John, you two clean this up, open the windows and try to make some food.” John and George nodded and went to work while Paul and Ringo quietly made their way to your room.

They softly knocked on your door and opened it slowly. You were crawled up on the bed, blankets around you and the curtains shut close matching the rest of the flat. Paul slowly shook his head and went to your side to kneel next to you. You looked up to him and cried out again. They found out, and know he was going to yell at you. First, he was going to tell you off for not telling them and then he was going to fire you and they were all going to hate you and you won’t have friends or a job or a flat and you were going to die.

“yn?” Paul sweetly asked as he stroked your hair out of your face. You made eye contact with him, your lower lip quivering.

“Yes?” you asked.

“What’s wrong, love?” Ringo asked from behind you, you turned slightly and saw him standing next to Paul.

“N-nothing.” you lied looking down.

“Come on yn, you can tell us,” Paul assured you, he cupped your face gently making you look up to him. You sniffled and slowly sat up. The two boys sat on either side of you, you leaned on Paul's shoulder and his arm went around you. Ringo’s arm went around your shoulders and he leaned on you. 

“I’m so sorry please don’t fire me or hate me.” you cried out.

“F-fire you?” George stuttered, you hadn’t even heard him come in. He kneeled in front of you and John was standing awkwardly behind him.

“I’m so sorry,” you repeated as Paul rubbed your sides. 

“You don’t have to be.” John added, his voice sweet and low.

“What’s wrong?” George whispered looking into your eyes. You looked around at the four boys, you couldn’t lie to them.

“I-” you took a deep breath in. “I have depression.” you breathed out, there, it was out. “And my medication was taking long to get here and I just freaked because you guys would find out and fire and hate me because I’m too much-”

“yn.” Ringo said cutting off your ranting.

“Yes?” you turned your head to look at him, he smiled gently and shook his head.

“We could never fire you or hate you, how could we? We wouldn’t be able to function without you.” Paul said from your other side. You giggled slightly at his comment.

“yn yln, the backbone of The Beatles.” John announced with a fake posh tone. You laughed a little louder at his joke, the four boys joining in.

“Now, lets get you and this flat cleaned up and lets get your meds, okay?” you nodded and rubbed your nose slightly. 

These boys were all you care about.

tag list;

@thebeatleswritings  @beatlevmania  @i-love-queen-3000  @brians-metaphor26  @honimello  @maccafied  @julessworldd @lovemybrowneyedboy @storiesfrommirkwood  @beatles-babee  @geostarr @rockstarsandfilmstars @thiccjelly17 @crab-king-69  

[snarkwrites]

fake fic title - Glass Houses

Bless you for this title, anonymous. I wanted to say that before I say anything else. Now that I have, I just want to say that my brain wanted to go two totally different directions with this ( and I’m lowkey afraid you’re not in either fandom, but I hope you enjoy it in the same ) so that’s exactly what I did. It’s one title done two totally different ways?

Heads up, the stranger things one is kind of an au of my own au, oops rip me.

Both are kinda angsty. Kinda. There’s also banter.

Tag Squad : ( for the SOA version ) @rampagewriting | @chasingeverybreakingwave | @kyleoreillysknee | @sassymox 

( for the stranger things version ) @rampagewriting | 

[ tag list doc - add yourself or I won’t tag ] | [ masterlist ] | [ keep ‘em comin - these are hella fun ] 

                                  { STEVE HARRINGTON x CHARLOTTE (oc) }

Nancy caught up to me just as I got out of Jackson’s car and started to walk towards the double doors of Hawkins High. She glanced from me to the retreating black Impala and bit her lip as if she wanted to say something. Before she could, Barb caught up to both of us.

“Did your dad get a new car?” Barb asked, letting out a low and appreciative whistle at the car driving away before meeting my gaze.

“Nope.”

“Who was that? He looked like he was at least 21.” Nancy’s question was blunt and filled with concern when she asked it. I shrugged and bit my lip, waiting a second or two before answering.

“That was this guy I met over the summer. His name’s Jackson. He was one of the other counselors at that camp I worked at. Speaking of guys, where’s your new one?” I asked the question mostly to get her off my back, the last thing I wanted this early in the morning was one of her lectures.

It wasn’t like she had any room at all to talk, her letters over the summer had been filled with instances of her sneaking out, sneaking around with some guy. She’d been vague about a name, but honestly, I half expected it to be Jonathan Byers. This sweetheart of a guy in our grade that we’ve known since we were babies… And maybe I’ve always thought Nancy made goo goo eyes at constantly, even if she’d die before admitting it.

Before she ever even got to answer me, Steve Harrington appeared out of nowhere and I swallowed hard, giving him my best blank look for a few seconds. “Are you lost, Harrington? The jackasses and their cackling hens are all that way.” I nodded towards where he’d parked his new BMW, where Tommy H currently stood, exhaling smoke through his nostrils and laughing about it. I rolled my eyes before tearing them away.

“Ouch. I totally forgot how grouchy you are first thing in the morning, Charlie.” Steve mumbled, lazily pulling Nancy closer.

I tried, but before I could stop myself, I was flinching a little. Luckily, no one seemed to notice it because Nancy and Steve were all over one another and that only had me tensing just a little more. Yep. this is going to be one hell of a long year.

“It’s Charlotte. I like Charlotte now.” I licked my lips and finally retorted at Steve as I  shifted my backpack from one side of my shoulder to the other, tapping my foot impatiently against the concrete of the sidewalk.

Nancy looked from me to Steve and when he pulled her closer, I couldn’t help the split second flinch that came. I bit my lip and spoke up. “This is the dreamy guy, Nancy?” I gave a light snort of laughter and blatantly ignored the pout Steve sent my way as he stared at me over the rim of his dark tinted sunglasses. 

What, did she lose her entire goddamn mind this summer? Steve? I’d gotten my hopes up to coming back to find out that she and Jonathan were finally a thing because I just have a feeling about those two.. And I wasn’t the only one, either. One look at Barb quickly told me how she felt about this whole thing and I gave a covert nod, sure we’d both be trying to puzzle it out later between the two of us. I couldn’t wait to hear what Barb had to say about it, actually, because I wasn’t the only one Steve ditched as a friend back then.

“Mhm!” Nancy gave a soft and happy laugh and I had to really bite my tongue. 

,, hello, has she totally forgotten the sleepover in 8th  where I cried because Steve told me he couldn’t be my best friend anymore because it was ‘weird’? She was all about calling him a jerk then.”  I had to literally fight to keep from saying it.

Rather than say any of what I was thinking, what Barb was probably also thinking, I gave a soft laugh and eyed Steve, shrugging. “Have fun with that, I suppose.” was the best I could come up with. Nancy eyed me and bit her lip nervously and Barb tensed, her hand going to her mouth. I literally couldn’t take another second of Nancy and Steve all over one another, so I turned to Barb and asked mildly, “Hey, do you wanna walk down to the girls room with me? So I can show you that thing my aunt got for me?”

“Wh-” she almost asked what thing but I carefully nudged her side and she nodded, the two of us hurrying away. The second the door to the girls room shut behind us, I was pacing and ranting about the whole thing and when I lightly punched the paper towel dispenser on the wall next to the row of sinks, I cradled one hand in the other and swore quietly.

“Feel better now? Did you get it all out? Look… All I’m saying here is that I got over the way Steve  ditched all of us a while ago… Maybe there’s another reason you haven’t?”

“Don’t you dare shrink me, Barbara Holland.” I pouted, going quiet before finally admitting to it quietly. “For as long as I can remember, it’s always been me and Steve. We were so close. So close and I just…”

“You kinda fell for him.” Barbara finished and I sighed, putting my back to the bathroom stall and dramatically rolling my eyes upward. I didn’t even have to nod to acknowledge that yes, she was 100 percent right. Somewhere between kindergarten and 8th grade, even though I know it’s stupid and I realize that nobody knows who they love until they’re much older, more mature.. A small sliver of my heart was Steve Harrington. Then he took it and he broke that sliver that belonged to him and since then, I’ve just kind of… Silently been bitter.

The bathroom door burst open and Nancy stepped inside, laughing and lit up, practically glowing. I shared a look with Barb and prepared myself to put on a tolerant face. A happy face, even. Barb gave me a nod and Nancy spoke up.

“What’d your aunt get you?”

“Oh, uh…” my brain crapped out for a minute, and she raised a brow, looking from me to Barbara.

“She thought she bought it but she left it home.” Barb stepped in with the quick save and I mouthed a thank you to her when Nancy was too busy reapplying her lip gloss to notice. “So, what do you think? I mean, I’m still shocked that he likes me.”

,, you’re honestly not the only one.” the thought came accompanied by an almost crippling wave of guilt, especially in light of what Barb and I just discussed. I was getting the distinct impression that this year was not going to be an easy one at all. 

The tardy bell had the three of us dashing down the hall for class and I slid into my seat with such force that I bounced lightly off of Jonathan Byers side. He glanced up and over at me for a few seconds. 

“Are you okay?” he gave a smirk as our eyes met and he asked the question.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good.” I said it quickly. Way too quickly. He chuckled quietly and nodded to the textbook I’d just dug out of my backpack. “This is History. Not Biology.”

I locked eyes with him, cheeks burning hot all over. And this literally had me blinking in shock because everything I’d just thought about Nancy being with Steve -and exactly how flustered he’d gotten me in the hallway just popping up like he had, it all came rushing back and I really had to work at shoving it down.

Because I wasn’t like her. I was not going to break girl code. I knew that she’d always kind of secretly liked Jonathan and that most likely, Steve Harrington was just a phase. I also knew that I was totally overreacting and yet...

,, Says the girl whose still being so silly enough to even remotely think she actually loved Steve at one point in time. Or that it matters at all in the grand scheme of life and stupidly refuses to just let go like she needs to.”  

“Thanks.” I muttered, digging around a little more in my backpack. When I produced the pack of cinnamon flavored gum, I caught Jonathan gazing at the pack in my hands almost longingly, so with a shrug, I did my best covert lean-in, holding the pack out to him, giving a playful pout when he didn’t reach and grab immediately.

“Oh come on, Jon. Live a little, doll. The teacher’s old, nearly blind and mostly deaf. He’s never gonna know you’re chewing gum.” I giggled softly. Jonathan chuckled at what I said and he took a stick from the pack. 

I went back to paying attention to the textbook and about halfway during the class, a folded square of paper landed neatly on the corner of my desk. I glanced up and around, and after confirming that the teacher obviously hadn’t seen it happen, I slipped my hand out, gripping the folded square and slid it back towards me, my bracelets jingling and making me pause a second.

The note was from Steve.

I’m sorry. I miss being your friend, okay? I really miss it. I hope this doesn’t get weird...

There were several different ways I could’ve gone. If I bothered responding. But frankly, the fact that he’d ditch me and Barb like we hadn’t been best friends our entire lives… just because he wanted to be popular and we weren’t good enough at the time… I didn’t bother answering. Letting him sweat it out was way easier. 

                                   JUICE ORTIZ x HAZEL TELLER (oc)

“ What’s she doin here, huh?” Juice asked the question to my brother Jax as loudly as possible and I tensed at the chill in his voice, biting my lip. I didn’t turn around immediately because if I did, I knew he’d take one look at me and know he’d hurt me a little. But he was getting good at that lately. So dismissive.

“She’s gonna work the bar for us until she finds a job, man.” Jax exhaled a drag from the cigarette pressed between his lips and finished off the glass of bourbon I’d poured him before the others came in. “Is there gonna be a problem, Ortiz?”

“Just wonderin.” Juice grumbled quietly.

I was finally pulled together enough at this point that I could turn around and face him. With the sweetest smile I could muster, I poured him a glass of his favorite beer and silently shoved it right at him. When a little of it sloshed up over the rim and splattered on the front of his white tee shirt, I shrugged and bit my lip before turning away again.

Naturally, it was Tig who spoke up, clearing his throat. “You two gonna act like this all the time? If the tension gets any thicker in here, I’m gonna bust a nut.” 

“Jesus Christ, Trager.” Jax coughed, glaring at the other man. “That is my sister, man. I don’t wanna think about that shit.” 

I turned and gave Tig a teasing smirk. “What tension?”

Oh, I know perfectly well what he’s talking about. Nobody’s forgotten the fact that way back… before this MC bullshit crept into his life… Juice and I dated. Then when he pledged, we broke up because at the time, I didn’t want the danger and the pain this life has been known to cause.

Not to mention dear old stepdad. It was pretty much either break things off or risk Clay trying to kick his goddamn head in. Or so I thought at the time. Apparently, I found myself thinking bitterly as I wiped down the bar top, I was wrong because here Juice is, a full member of the Sons. 

Obviously, the fact that I’m here and working at the MC would show that my stance on that is changed. And you wouldn’t be wrong, it has. It took me leaving to realize that I threw away a really good thing. A near fucking perfect thing. Just because I was afraid of both letting down my guard and allowing myself to really love Juice Ortiz like he deserved and the thought of losing him due to something happening. 

So, I came back. And naturally, now he hates me.

[coyotesongwriting]

Free Falling - Chapter 1

Avengers - Clint Barton/Reader

Chapter 1 - The Beginning Of The End

Clint made it perfectly clear that he never wanted kids. What he didn’t know was that he chose the day you were planning on telling him you were pregnant to make that opinion clear.

Author’s Note: I desperately need a beta reader, and I’m sleep deprived so if there are mistakes... oops and let me know haha

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters so don’t sue me please. I just really like them haha

Tag List (if you want to be added or removed let me know, no hard feelings 🙂): @rorynne @proudhufflepuff77 @rhymesmenagerie

Clint landed on the training mat with a loud smack, and you laughed as you brushed your long hair out of your face. During the session, your hair tie had snapped and instead of getting a new one you’d decided to just keep going. No point training if you could only fight if your hair was perfectly up. Clint was muttering under his breath to himself as you reached down to help him up.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” you smirked, eyes dancing as you looked down at him

“That was dirty and you know it!” he grumbled, staring up at you with a slight frown on his face.

“Babe, it’s not my fault that a little kiss can distract you.” You stared at your hand pointedly, waiting to help him up.

He let out a long-suffering sigh, you had this exact same argument every time the two of you trained together. After a long beat, he reached out to grab your hand. Before you could pull him up though, he gave a quick pull, causing you to lose your balance and land on top of him. You let out a breathy laugh, glancing down at his lips before meeting his now heated gaze. He surged upward, pressing his lips to yours. With a quick move, he rolled and pinned you to the mat.

“I win” he whispered, grinning goofily down at you before recapturing his lips in yours.

Although you were pretty competitive, you can’t say you minded losing to your boyfriend of two years in moments like this. Time seemed to slow as the two of you lay there, in no rush for once. You ran your fingers through his hair slowly as you kissed. These were your favorite moments. Sure, you loved the stolen moments between missions but the slow, sweet kisses like this helped you forget everything else for a few minutes.

“Miss [Y/L/N] and Mr. Barton, please report to the briefing room. Mr. Stark said to please hurry” Friday’s voice rang out through the room, and you two quickly pulled apart, climbing to your feet.

Your eyes lit up mischievously, “Race you!” and you set off as fast as you could before he even registered what you had said.

“Cheater!” echoed down the hall as he raced to catch up to you, a low chuckle following you.

You sped into the training room only a few steps in front of Clint and slid into the chair at the back, his favorite spot before he could stop you. He rolled his eyes playfully as he merely picked you up, taking his spot back. You grabbed the seat next to Bucky, turning to stick your tongue out at Clint, who in turn stuck his tongue out at you.

Tony knocked once on the table, and you turned to look at him. “You guys about done? I’d like to get on with this”

With a sheepish grin, Clint nodded and the briefing began. Unfortunately, it was once again going to be what was quickly becoming the same old deal. A Hydra base in Boston had been experimenting, but this time? They’d gone low enough to be testing and torturing children. You guys were going to go in, kill Hydra, and get the kids off to somewhere safe.

Steve, Bucky, Tony, and Nat were all going into the base, while Clint provided cover outside and would try to draw out as many as he could. You’d be staying behind on the Quinjet as always. Your skills weren’t all that helpful in battle, and you’d only be a distraction to be completely honest.

Growing up, you’d spent a lot of days online where you’d learned to program and code. As the years had passed, you’d quickly made a name for yourself among hackers. You had a reputation for doing what you thought was right, whether or not the law agreed with you was a different matter of course. You weren’t just their resident hacker though, you were a mutant.

On your 16th birthday, your family had taken you out to dinner. Things had been going great, until the drive home. You didn’t remember much from the accident itself, but a drunk driver had t-boned your car and you’d passed out. Your older brother calling out to you had woken you and you’d seen the blood spreading from a deep gash on his chest. You’d been applying pressure to the wound and crying when your powers kicked in for the first time, and his chest wound healed quickly.

Since that day, you’d learned to master your healing powers. As soon as you graduated high school, you’d enrolled in the military where you were trained as a doctor. You hid your powers, not wanting to draw attention to yourself. However, your low mortality rate drew attention and within a few years, Fury had recruited you to the team.

In the beginning, you’d gone with them out into the field but it hadn’t taken long before you asked to remain behind on the Quinjet. You weren’t afraid of the fight, you actually kind of enjoyed it. However, you weren’t exactly helpful. You were a pretty good fighter, but pretty good wasn’t near good enough when things got too hairy. After one close call where you’d almost lost Tony because you’d been too hurt to help him, you’d realized you were better off staying behind.

“Alright guys, let’s go” Steve announced as Tony finished briefing everyone.

~~~~~~

Unfortunately, the mission had gone sideways from the moment the team arrived on the scene. Hydra had apparently known you were coming, and were trying to move the kids from the warehouse as fast as they could. Unfortunately, Hydra had also rigged the warehouse to blow. You guys hadn’t been able to evacuate the building completely before it blew, and there were casualties. A lot of them to be exact. There were a few kids lost in the explosion, and the team was quiet as you headed back to the tower.

Later that night, you’d managed to gather the whole team into the home theater. There was nothing that brought everyone together better than poking fun at the cheesiest romance movies they could find. It had started one night when Tony walked in on you watching a cheesy romance movie, your guilty pleasure. He’d gathered the team and they’d made a drinking game of pointing out the problems in the movies.

It didn’t take long before everyone was starting to relax, the drinks really hitting everyone as they’d decided to go straight for the hard liquor tonight. Thor and Loki arrived from Asgard just in time for the couple in the movie to pull a container of ice cream out of a small cooler they’d brought on their hike and walked in to find everyone laughing as Clint ranted about how stupid that was.

As the movie drew to an end, everyone was feeling pretty good. You were curled up against Clint, his arm around your shoulder. Nat had fallen asleep on Banner, and the two of them looked absolutely adorable. Tony and Thor were taking turns throwing popcorn at each other. They had started by trying to see who could catch more popcorn, but now you were pretty sure they were just trying to hit each other in the eye.

The movie drew to an end with the couple finding out they were pregnant, and Clint let out a huff of laughter. There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary in that, so you turned to him curiously, your eyebrows pulled together in a silent question.

“Sorry. I just can’t imagine anyone bringing a kid into this world” he shrugged, leaning back against the cushion.

“Does that mean you don’t want kids of your own someday?” Banner asked, having overheard Clint.

“No way. I’m not going to be responsible for bringing a kid into this mess.” Clint’s voice was hard, unwavering.

You bit your lip, looking down at your fingernails. You’d always dreamed of having a family someday, and you thought he had to. “Do you mean that?” you asked, voice quiet as you cautiously met his gaze.

There was no pause before he answered, determined, “I’m not having kids, [Y/N]. Ever.”

Silence fell and the others began to slip out of the room quietly, not wanting to see what happened next. You were looking down, seemingly studying your fingers when he lightly placed a finger under your chin, pulling your face up to look at him.

“What if we did though?” your voice was soft, nervous.

“We can’t. That’s why we have to be careful” he said gently, “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

You didn’t say anything, not willing to trust your voice as you got to your feet following him. When you reached your shared room, you gave him a gentle peck on the cheek before stepping into the bathroom. You waited until you heard his gentle snore before you began to sob. He always took his hearing aids out before he went to sleep so you weren’t worried about him hearing you.

Reaching into your drawer, you pulled out the positive pregnancy test and stared at it. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Not at all. What were you supposed to do now?

Next Chapter ->

Note: I’ve cross posted this to AO3.

[inakua]

Late Night Wanderings

Request: Oneshot for Percy Weasley x Oliver Wood?? Recently discovered this ship, but there’s not a lot written about it :’( Don’t really have any specific plot ideas but could you do something set while they are still at Hogwarts, about them getting together?? AND LOTS OF FLUFF - @me-just-pretending-to-know 

Warnings: n/a(I will always try and tag as many warnings as I can think of for each writing, if you read through and find something that I haven’t listed which may be a trigger for someone please send me an ask or message me so that I can add it to this list, thanks!)

Pairings: Percy Weasley x Oliver Wood

Words: 1617

Fandom: Harry Potter

A/N: Okay, so for this my basic plot idea is that Percy likes to sneak out at night and go sit in the Quidditch stands, him and Oliver see each other start chatting and bam they like each other lol … also I realise that this request was literally sent in like over a year ago oops … so sorry I’ve been sooo inactive! Enjoy :)

REQUEST A ONESHOT

I suppose you could say that Percy Weasley was the odd one out. His whole family were different in there own unique ways, but him, he was completely different to all of them. He was known as the stuck-up, sensible, snobbish Weasley, the one who couldn’t have fun, the one who couldn’t take a joke.

Sometimes he just had to take a break from all of it, he only acted the way he did because he wanted to do well. He wanted to get a good, respected job in the Ministry, he wanted to provide financially for his future family in the way that his family couldn’t now. He loved his family, each and every one of them, although he didn’t show it every often, and he honestly wouldn’t trade them for the world, sometimes they just got on his nerves a bit; as all families do. They knew most of the things that went on in his life, whether he’d told them directly or they found out because the twins had gone snooping. However, there were two things that they didn’t know and he certainly never wanted them to find out, at least not until he was ready.

Firstly, Percy was gay. 

Secondly, Percy spent almost every night down at the Quidditch pitch, it was his sanctuary in the dark, the place that he went to let his thoughts roam free and true feelings run around.

Tonight was that same as any other, Percy wandered down to the Quidditch Pitch, his robes pulled tightly around him, protecting him from the chill of the February night.

Only, as much as it was the same, it was also extremely different. 

As usual, he walked down to the pitch, sat in at the very top of the stands, squished in a corner, a book clutched in his hand as if he were meaning to read it; yet he never did. 

He’d been there not even 5 minutes when a figure in the distance caught his eye. Sinking lower into his seat he prayed they weren’t making there way into the pitch, aka the only place at Hogwarts in this part of the castle.

“Shit,” Percy whispered, practically on the floor in an attempt to hide himself, book clutched tightly to his chest and glasses fogging up.

As the figure came closer, finally making it’s way onto the pitch, Percy wished he could’ve cursed louder.

Oliver Woods.

Roommate, captain of the quidditch team and possibly the hottest guy Percy had ever laid eyes on.

Percy watched as Oliver placed his broom on the ground, eyes scanning the stalls. If possible Percy sank even lower in his seat, praying that he wouldn’t be seen.

…

Oliver scanned the pitch, looking for any signs of movement. He hadn’t been out to practice on the pitch in the past couple of days, revision for NEWTs taking over his life, or that’s the excuse he told himself.

You see the thing is he was only in the library for one reason, and one reason only - Percy Weasley.

He’d be lying of he said that he hadn’t noticed the boy, almost everyday for the past week Oliver had been ‘revising’ at the table opposite from Percy Weasley. He always made sure to sit behind him so the boy in question wouldn’t notice, but he couldn’t help himself from watching as he studied.

The revision causing his eyebrows to furrow cutely in concentration, and the innocent way he chewed on his quill when he’d get stuck on something drove him crazy.

He wished he’d have the courage to actually talk to him, but he never seemed to get the chance.

Sighing, Oliver mounted his broom, shaking his head to try and clear the thoughts of Percy from his mind.

Before his obsession with ‘revising’, he’d been trying to perfect the Wronski feint, hoping to use it and surprise the Slytherins in their upcoming match.

“Come on Wood, time to concentrate,” he muttered to himself, willing his mind to focus. As he flew up into the air a glimpse of red caught his eye. Swinging around to see if his eyes were playing tricks in him, he spotted a mop if red hair lying in amongst the stands.

“Uh … hello?” Oliver called, flying over.

“Shit,” Percy cursed, scrambling to get up off the floor, hitting his head on a seat in the process, “ Um … I dropped my book?”

“Percy?! Uh hi, what - er what are you doing here?” Oliver asked in surprise, making a mental note of how cute Percy looked when he blushed.

“Just studying,” He squeaked, his face going even redder, “ya know for NEWTs and everything.”

“Yeah, well I was just gonna practise for the next match, you’re welcome to watch,” Oliver offered, hoping he’d accept.

Percy just sat there in shock, his brain scrambling for anything to say, had the Oliver Woods just asked him to watch him train?

“I mean you don’t have to or anything, I was just - I,”

“No!” Percy practically screamed, blush reaching down to his neck now, “I’d love to watch you train,”

“Really?” Oliver asked, stunned.

Percy rubbed the back of his neck, nervous all of a sudden, “Um yeah, really.”

“I - great! I’ll get started then,” Oliver replied, his body bouncing as he was filled with excitement and adrenaline, “you know you’re cute when you blush,” and with that he flew off into the sky.

Meanwhile, Percy’s brain was moving at a mile a minute, trying to process what the hell had just gone on.

“C - cute?” Percy mumbled, a smile creeping onto his face as he looked up and watched Oliver flying around the pitch.

They must’ve been down at the pitch for at least an hour before Oliver stared to warm down, realising what he was doing Percy jumped up from his seat and made his way down onto the pitch just as Oliver got off the broom.

“So? What you think?”

“I think you’re gonna beat Slytherin on Sunday,” Percy replied shyly, clutching his book to his chest.

“Yeah? I hope so, I’d really love it if we could win the cup our final year, ya know? Go out with a bang.”

Percy simply nodded, unsure what to reply as Quidditch wasn’t really his forte.

“You should probably head back up to the castle, curfew was a few hours ago and I need to shower in the changing rooms,” Oliver said, picking his broom up off the floor.

“Oh yeah, of course … I’ll see you around then?” Percy asked, shuffling nervously on his feet.

“Yeah see you around Perce,” Oliver replied, turning around to make his way to the changing rooms, mentally kicking himself for not being able to ask him out.

“Oliver!” Percy called, not being able to believe what he was about to do.

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re cute too!”

Oliver grinned as he watched Percy blush a bright red, before spinning around and practically running back towards the castle.

…

Two days later Oliver walked into the library, intent on getting what he wanted … Percy Weasley.

Thankfully, he was there, sat at his usual desk, a quill already in between his teeth and brow furrowed.

Unlike in the past, Oliver didn’t sit at the table opposite him bit marched straight up to his table, pulling out the chair opposite him.

“Hi Perce,”

“Oliver?” Percy asked, head cocked in confusion.

“Yep.”

Only just realising who it was that was sitting in front of him, Percy immediately sprang up in his chair, face quickly turning red, almost toppling over onto the floor.

“Woah, don’t wanna hurt yourself there Perce,” Oliver grinned, clutching onto Percy’s arm to keep him steady.

“Right. Yeah, sorry,” Percy mumbled, looking up at Oliver from his precarious position half off his chair.

“So um, about the other night,” Oliver began, moving his hand down Percy’s arm until it rested on his hand that clutched the edge of the table. “I just wanted to ask -”

“Willyougotohogsmeadewithme?” Percy suddenly blurted, his mind working on autopilot, as his eyes popped open wide.

“What?”

“Shit … um - I. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that I didn’t really know what I was thinking, I mean why would you want to go out with someone like me? I don’t even know if you like guys, but there was the other night and now your hand and I just -”

Oliver smiled at Percy as he continued to rant, unbelieving that he’d just asked him to Hogsmeade. Before he knew what he was doing he cupped Percy’s face with his hands, immediately shutting him up.

Staring into his eyes Oliver grinned, the shocked expression and doe eyes looking up at him making him melt inside, “I like you too.”

Pulling him closer Oliver rested their foreheads together, not wanting to take advantage or pressure Percy into anything.

“Just kiss me already,” Percy muttered breathlessly. Oliver did just that, pressing their lips together as they clung to each other in the corner of the library, unaware of the two pairs of eyes watching from the bookcase behind them.

“Good thing we told Oliver to go out and practise that nice Georgie.”

“Yeah, didn’t know Perfect Percy had it in him.”

[the-quiet-winds]

Sure to Outlast this Catastrophe (part four)

everyone is so worried and i love it. some of you are suspicious of caroline. 

oops. @ichlugebulletsandcornnuts​ and i are so sorry for your concern.

enjoy the final part.

[part one] - [part two] - [part three]

[Part 4: So Shine the Light on All of Your Friends]

in the waiting room, aragon and cleves are getting increasingly restless as nobody comes to offer them any information. cleves paces around in a little square next to the vending machine as aragon’s leg continues its anxiety-ridden bouncing, and finally cleves turns to her.

“i can’t take this any more.” she coughs violently for a moment, then carries on. “why aren’t they telling us anything?”

“everyone in this hospital is incompetent,”aragon growls, “and-“

“are you the family of catherine parr?”

while aragon had been ranting, neither had noticed a doctor approaching them. 

they both stand quickly. “yes, how is she?”

“awake. weak and a bit disoriented, but she’ll be alright.”

“thanks be to god,” aragon sighs; now it’s confirmed her goddaughter is okay one of the weights on her shoulders lifts. “can i see her?”

“of course,” the doctor nods. “but it would probably be for the best if only one person came in at a time.” cleves nudges her gently.

“you go. i don’t want to make anything worse with my cough. plus that means i’ll be here in case they come back with any news about anne.”

aragon agrees and gives her shoulder a light squeeze before following the nurse to where parr was.

parr was sickly, sickly pale. far worse than when aragon had first seen her. her curls are plastered to her forehead, and she looks so small in that hospital bed.

but when aragon enters, parr smiles. she reaches out for her. "hi," she rasps out.

“cathy,” aragon sighs gently, making a beeline for the bed. “cathy, i’m so glad you’re okay.”

“okay as i can be,” parr laughs, which triggers another coughing fit and aragon takes her hand.

“how are you feeling?”

“not the best i’ve ever felt,” parr raises her eyebrows and half-chuckles. aragon smooths down her hair and makes a tutting noise with her tongue.

“you need to keep yourself calm so you don’t keep coughing.”

parr rolls her eyes. "yes mum," she jokes.

"ah, well," aragon says, lips curling to a smirk. "i am the closest thing you've got a mother currently, so don't you take that tone with me, young lady."

"i'm so scared-" parr starts sarcastically, then breaks out into another coughing fit. 

once it's passed, aragon speaks again. "that's what happens when you don't respect your elders, missy," she teases, still rubbing cathy's back in soft circles.

parr laughs quietly, staying as still as she can. aragon gives her a gentle smile. “that’s better.”

a doctor enters the room and politely interrupts the the moment.

“i’m so sorry, but we’d like to run some tests while you’re awake.”

“can i stay here while you do them?” aragon asks immediately, and the doctor nods with a smile.

“of course you can.”

aragon holds cathy's un-IVed hand as the doctor listens to her heart, her breathing, examines her nose and throat, and even her ears.

"she's through the worst of it," the doctor announces confidently. "aside from being dehydrated, she'll be right as rain soon enough. 

aragon smiles. "so when can we take her home?"

"well i've heard some of your friends are in the other wards," he waits for aragon's confirmation, "so it might be best to wait until everyone is ready before discharging her."

“some of our friends?” parr questions. “who?”

with a sinking feeling, aragon realises that parr didn’t know about katherine or anne, but then she holds herself a bit more upright. katherine was already awake, and anne would be perfectly fine in no time at all. aragon pushes down the uncertainty in her voice as she starts to speak.

“katherine and anne were both admitted too, but i’m sure it won’t be long until you’re all ready to go home.”

parr looks terrified and begins to sit up. “how are they?”

“it’s okay,” aragon soothes. she pushes gently on her shoulders until she lays back flat. “katherine is awake.” parr lets out a sigh of relief. “anne, well, we’re not quite sure yet.”

parr fights to sit up again but aragon stays firm. “anna is out there waiting, it’s okay.”

“but-” parr starts to protest, but aragon stays firm.

“the best way you can help is by resting so we can make sure you’re fighting fit in no time.”

parr finally gives in with a huff, leaving back against the pillows.

“please, tell me if there’s any news, though?”

“of course i will,” aragon soothes.

aragon smiles, then leans over to press a kiss to parr’s temple. “you’ll be fine, love,” she murmurs. “we all will be very soon.”

---

only about four minutes after aragon goes back to see parr, anna is brought in to see anne.

“anna!” she cries out happily, and then begins babbling like a teenager. 

anna casts a sly look to the doctor. “she’s on a lot of pain meds, it’s generally enough to make one a little loopy.”

“you’ve got five eyes,” boleyn laughs to herself. anna gives her a bemused grin in response.

“nice to see you awake, anne.”

“where’s aragon?” anne suddenly asks. “she was here, wasn’t she? she came in with me.”

“she’s with cathy,” cleves explains, dropping into the chair next to anne’s bed.

anne giggles like a school girl. “you look funny.”

“how do i look funny?” anna challenges, deciding to indulge anne. 

“five eyes... three noses...” she blindly reaches for anna’s face, and her finger lands on anna’s cheekbone. 

“you’ve got me,” anna chuckles. “five eyes and three noses.” she turns to the doctor. “how is she?”

“she’ll recover well,” the doctor nods. “she needs a lot of rest, and she’ll likely have chest pain for some time, but i see no reason why she won’t recover and be right as rain shortly. we do want to keep her in for observation for now, so we can monitor the recovery and make sure it all goes smoothly.”

anna nods. “well i think that’s true for everyone.”

the doctor agrees with a soft chuckle and takes her leave. 

anna turns back to anne. “how are you feeling, kiddo?”

“i’m not a kiddo!” anne protests petulantly. “i’m a grown up!”

“if you’re sure,” anna concedes softly, smirking. “but you sure are acting like one!”

“shut up,” is anne’s incredibly mature response. “i’m technically older than you, y’know.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever,” anna reaches down and ruffles boleyn’s hair, currently unruly from her ordeal. “can i get you anything?”

“‘m really thirsty,” anne says with a sudden yawn. anna looks back at the doctor questioningly.

“she can have some water,” the doctor nods. “as long as she drinks it carefully.”

anna fills a glass and helps to hold it to anne’s lips. anne takes several long sips, swallowing down as much as she could before anna pulls away. 

“don’t want you to have too much,” she warns carefully. 

“how ‘re kitty and cathy?” she asks softly, drifting back towards sleep. 

“they’re alright,” anna assures. “soon they’ll let all of us out.”

“good,” anne mumbles, eyes closing completely. “tell them... to get better soon... or i’ll punch them.”

anna hides a snort of laughter as boleyn drifts off completely, then turns to the doctor.

“can I head back out to tell my friends she’s okay?”

“go right ahead,” the doctor smiles gently.

anne smiles and hurries out. she makes her way to the next room, where aragon and parr were talking softly. 

“hey,” she interjects quietly. 

“hey!” aragon says, slightly louder. “how’s anne?”

“she’s doing good,” anna says. “we are going to get out of here soon.”

she looks at parr fondly. “all of us.”

———————————————————————————————————–

tag list: @percabeth15 @kats-seymour @qualquercoisa945 @jane-fucking-seymour @a-slightly-cracked-egg @justqueentingz @annabanana2401 @wolfies-chew-toy @broad-way-13 @tvandmusicals @lailaliquorice @aimieallenatkinson @sweet-child-why03 @gaylinda-of-the-upper-uplands @funky-lesbians @thinkaboutitmaybe @hansholbeingoesaroundzeworld @anaamess @beeskneeshuh @prick-up-ur-ears @theartoflazy @justqueentwo  @brother-orion @paleshadowofadragon @lafemmestars @beautifulashes17 @jarneiarichardnxel @idkimbadwithusernamesandstuff @sixcago @mixer1323 @boleynssixthfinger @aimieallen @elphiesdance @boleynthebunny @krystalhuntress @lupin-loves-chocolate @bellacardoza16 @bluify

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Five

Part Four

Pairing: Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx X OC

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: Language

Tag list: @fandomshit6000 @lilmou5ie @tamedhearts @divaanya @allieburakovsky @kingbouji3 @evrsncnewyork @6ixx6ixx @ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog @thanks2pete @abaldboi @swoopygorl @justjodeye@liith-ium @caos18blog @ytwahsog

**Let me know if you want to be tagged**

———————————————————————

The weeks to follow that fight with Tommy were pretty screwy. My grades were, at that point, average instead of their usual above average, it was getting harder for me to hold my tongue anytime my mother ranted about the growing rock scene on the strip, and I just really missed my best friend.

Tansy and I were spending more time together but it just wasn’t the same as hanging out with Tommy. Tansy was too cautious about what to say sometimes, whereas Tommy didn’t have a filter. Although that was offensive sometimes, it was refreshing. Tommy wasn’t the only offensive one I missed. I got bored more often since I didn’t have Nikki to argue with, not to mention I really missed Mick’s blatant, unapologetic comments. I even missed Vince. Unfortunately, my feelings have never been a match for my stubbornness, especially back then. It’s what eventually caused some of the issues between Nikki and I. I never knew when to quit unless someone made me, and even making me took great lengths.

The wet pavement that smells of rain glistens under street lights as I make my way out of the church after Sunday night service, my arm encircling my bible as I reach in to my purse to grab my keys.

As I get closer to my car in the mainly empty parking lot, I see a familiar figure leaned against it with crossed arms and a bottle of Jack in his hand and I prepare myself for an argument, glancing around to make sure no one else is around.

Hazel eyes look me up and down as I step closer, a mocking smile on his lips as he scoffs.

“Uh oh, you dirty slut, your ankles are showing.” Nikki teases and I ignore him, going to open my door but he blocks me, his leg pressed to the door handle. “I thought you were dead.”

“Are you sure you want to risk being so close to a house of God? Aren’t you afraid you’ll combust?” I snap at him, putting my bible on the roof of my car and crossing my arms as he licks his lips.

“I’ve missed that bitchy little temper of yours.” He grins.

“And I’ve missed...” I take a second to think of what I’ve missed about him, but I can’t tell him I’ve missed him in general. He’ll get cocky. “...your hair.”

“My hair? That’s it?” He asks as if he knows I just made something up to avoid the truth and I raise my brows.

“Despite it being attached to a nitwit, I’ve always thought you had pretty hair. Take the compliment and go.”

“Gladly, once you and Tommy sort through this shit.” He states. “It’s getting harder for him to focus but he won’t come talk to you.”

“Ah, and the truth comes out. You aren’t here because you missed being a pain in my neck, you’re here to convince me to apologize so Tommy’s musical juices or whatever will start flowing again.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mötley Crüe’s success is at your mercy or whatever, just make it right.” He orders me sternly with a quick change of attitude, growing tired of my uncooperative stance already.

“I know you don’t know me very well, but I don’t do good with people telling me what to do. I’m known to retaliate and do the complete opposite.” I give him the same tone he’s giving me and he rolls his jaw.

“Why the hell can’t you just admit you were wrong?” He bites out and I laugh without humor.

“Was I?”

“Yeah, you were. It’s his fucking choice whether he wants to finish school or not. You’re only job as his friend is to support whatever the hell he does.”

“Have you always had friends that kiss your feet and don’t tell you when you’re being an idiot because it really sounds like you don’t know what actual friends do: tell you the mess you don’t want to hear but really need hear to anyway.” I cut my eyes at him. “At least that’s how actual friendships are suppose to work, last time I checked.”

“And last time I checked, Tommy didn’t come out of your pussy eighteen years ago, so there’s no need for you to be acting like his mother!” He raises his voice.

“If me wanting what’s best for him means I act like his mother, then so be it!” I shout, losing my temper. “It’s not any of your business, anyway, so screw off!”

“He’s a drummer for my band, shit is affecting Mötley Crüe, which makes it my business, and you don’t know shit about what’s good for him!”

“You’re impossible to speak a lick of sense in to, so I’m going home. Leave me alone.” I shove him hard enough that he actually stumbles back a couple steps, giving me time to open my car door, but I quickly regret it when it slams shut, catching my fingers in it.

And he’s completely unapologetic, knocking back a swig of whiskey as he watches me try to calm the excruciating pain in my fingers with tears coming down my face.

“Oops.” He mumbles. “Look, just get in the fuckin’ car and I’ll driv—” I use my unharmed hand to snatch the full bottle of alcohol from him, smashing it on the pavement and he gives me a black stare.

“Oops.” I spit out.

I don’t even think he’s mad about the wasted bottle of perfectly good liquor, until he’s suddenly grabbing me by my upper arm, hauling me roughly to the passenger side.

I’m tossed in to the car with little regard as he slams the door, walks around the car and gets in the driver’s seat, grabbing my Bible off the roof of my car.

“You can give me your keys or I can hot wire the damn thing, it’s up to you, either way you will be seeing Tommy tonight and apologizing. We’re not suffering all because you’re being a little bitch.” He tells me with little room to argue and I dig in my bag for my keys, trying to ignore the aching throb in my fingers on my other hand.

He takes the keys and throws my Bible in the backseat carelessly, causing me to cringe and he notices it.

“Sorry.” I barely hear him, but I know he says it.

Once we get to their run-down apartment, I stomp inside, not acknowledging Vince or Mick, or Tommy, who looks at me as if he’s just seen Jesus himself.

I go straight to the kitchen and dig through drawers and cabinets for any type of over the counter meds for my throbbing fingers that are turning black and blue and swelling up.

“Uh, Hey, Vivian.” Vince’s flat, sarcastic voice carries to the kitchen and I slam a drawer shut. “You know you can pitch a bitch fit tantrum at your own house, right?” He asks next and I let out a loud “ha” in response.

“Can I help you?” Nikki asks me in a critical tone, leaning against the counter and I dig through the drawer by the sink.

“You have done enough.” I refuse whatever he’s about to offer and he sighs.

“I didn’t mean to slam your fingers in the door.” He admits.

“You what?” Tommy’s asking from the living room and I raise my brows, seeing my moment of opportunity as the lanky drum player steps to the kitchen to confront Nikki.

“Nikki slammed my fingers in the door of my car.” I inform him but say it loud enough for Vince and Mick to hear.

“And she smashed our last bottle of Jack.” Nikki snaps back. “And it was a full bottle.” He’s pointing at me accusingly.

“You did what?!” Vince and Tommy nearly shriek out, looks of major loss on their faces.

“Oh my goodness, I completely forgot going a few hours without whiskey is going to kill you morons.”

“You’d be surprised.” Mick states, laying on the couch with his eyes closed as he listens to our disagreement.

“I’m sure you’ve forgotten a lot being that you haven’t acknowledged that any of us are even fucking alive for over a month, now.” Vince cuts in and I ignore him after I find a bottle of Tylenol, opening it, oblivious to the guys as they all say “no don’t.”

Just as soon as I try to pour a couple pills in my hand, my palm is filled with white power and they all wince. They groan a little as some of the pile falls on to the floor as if it’s painful for them to see it go to waste.

“Well, that’s not Tylenol.” I say, carefully pouring the powder back in to the bottle. I put the lid back on and toss the bottle on the counter, not having many words. Other than, “I’m not surprised.”

“You’re not mad?” Tommy asks me, motioning to the bottle and I bite my tongue at first but shake my head a little.

“Not my health. Not my problem.” I reply, about to walk out when Tommy grasps my wrist and looks at my damaged hand, and Vince glances at it, letting out a breath.

“Ya know, I can go to the store and get something over the counter.” He offers.

“Thanks.” I give him a small smile, looking at Nikki who’s staring at me. “Devil-Spawn has my keys.” I tell him. “If you ask him nicely for them... I’m sure he’ll still find an excuse to abuse you.”

“Fuck you.” Nikki throws at me.

It’s not in a smart tone, or even an angry one. He just sounds exhausted with fighting with me and I breathe out, feeling guilty.

He gives Vince the keys, and the blonde leaves us to our own devices.

Not long after the door closes, Tommy clears his throat and looks down at me, about to say something.

“I was out of line.” I interrupt him, his face in shock at my words. “When we had that argument, I was being too sensitive and overreacted. I know you didn’t mean it how it came out when you said your priorities have changed, and I’m sorry for not giving you time to explain. I’m very proud of you, I’m not disappointed that you won’t finish school because you’re going after what you want, I was just upset because it was out of my control and I’m sorry for being that way about it.” I cut to the point.

“I know what I’m doing, Viv.” He assures me with the inkling of a grin, nudging me gently. “There’s nothing out of your control that you need to be freakin’ out over. I’ll be fine.”

I glance at the stash of cocaine I just discovered and he follows my line of sight, frowning slightly.

Before he can say anything, Nikki’s grabbing the bottle and putting it back where I got it.

He looks at me, not saying a word, but he doesn’t have to speak in order for me to hear him loud and clear: “don’t say a fuckin’ thing about it.”

So I don’t.

I would continue to get that look throughout our relationship. Anytime he even sensed I was about to advise against doing anything vice-related, I would get that look.

“Don’t say a fuckin’ thing”, “Don’t piss on our fuckin’ parade”, “Don’t ruin the party”, “Don’t start this shit, Vivian”, were all said with one glint in his seemingly dead, hazel eyes, and a very slight twitch of an eyebrow, matched with the clenching and unclenching of his jaw.

I, surprisingly, wouldn’t argue with him. I don’t know if it’s because I was afraid of what would happen if he were to lose his temper in an altered state of mind, or if me trying to control his addictions would be the thing that would make him leave me, but I became very good at keeping my mouth shut and not saying a fuckin’ thing.

Vince soon returns with the over the counter pain killers and a zip lock bag filled with ice, and I raise a brow at the make-shift ice pack when he holds it out to me while I’m sitting on the counter, talking to Tommy.

“Lady at the register said get ice on it and we don’t have any so I had to borrow some from some lady in the building next door.” He explains. “And it took a lot of flirting to get it.”

“Oh.” I take it, putting my aching fingers under it. “Thank you, Vince, I appreciate it.” I add and he smirks.

“You can pay me back, ya know.” He raises his brows and I nod.

“If I ever have a spur of the moment thing where I want to do something incredibly stupid that will completely confuse me and screw me over, I’ll let you know when and where.” I assure him and he winks, handing me the bottle of medicine before stepping to his bedroom.

I notice the clock on the wall, seemingly out of place with the rest of the crappy interior, it’s the cleanest thing in here.

It’s nearly nine o’clock, and I need to get home, not to mention the boys are about to head out for a night on the town anyway.

I hop off the counter, reaching for my keys, but Tommy stops me.

“Tommy, I have to get home.” I tell him.

“Just call and tell them you’re staying with Tansy or something and crash here.” He suggests. “I haven’t seen you in a month and I missed you.”

I think about it, knowing my parents will probably ask questions whether I get home tonight or not. I wouldn’t have another opportunity to stay with guys until I move out, anyway, and what my parents don’t know won’t hurt them.

He gives me those pretty brown eyes, begging silently like a puppy, and I sigh, thanking God my parents didn’t go to church and see me leaving with Nikki. Maybe there’s a reason they happened to get sick with allergies this particular weekend.

“Where’s your phone?”

In every part of my being, something was screaming at me to just go home. Looking back with 20/20 vision, perhaps that nagging feeling was the God I prayed to, trying to keep me from what was inevitably bound to become my only and most lethal vice.

The Devil works hard, after all.

[whichstiel]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural) Additional Tags: Spn 14x01, supernatural episode coda, episode coda, Episode: s14e01 Stranger in a Strange Land, musings on hope and humanity, demon dean flashback Series: Part 1 of Season 14 Codas Summary:

An episode coda for season 14, episode 1.

Dean and Castiel reflect on hope and humanity in the shadow of Michael’s possession. 

(Also included in its entirety below because it’s pretty short. But please tell me what you think on AO3 or Tumblr! Comments are always appreciated.)

They were whispering about him at the other end of the bar. Dean sipped his whiskey, savoring the burn against his tongue, and eavesdropped over the hum of twanging guitar playing on the bar’s speakers.

“How long do we have to stick around this dump of a town? I haven't killed anything in at least a week.”

The second demon’s voice was lower, as though she was afraid of being overheard. “Until Crowley says it’s time to move on.”

Dean rolled his eyes. Brent and Laura. They had been flexing their muscles all over town, painting a big target on the motley King’s court staying at the motel attached to the bar. Crowley really ought to do something about them. Kill ‘em, or send them away.

Brent snorted. “You mean, until Winchester says it’s time to move on. I’ll admit, I was on board with the whole Hell’s Knight thing when I thought we’d be rampaging the fucking countryside with, you know biblical flaming fucking swords. But so far we’ve just watched him and Crowley make…make fucking cow eyes at each other.”

Laura grumbled a disgusted reply.

“Did you know,” Brent lowered his voice and glanced around the bar. Dean prevented himself from reacting, staring at his whiskey glass like it was the only object that mattered in the world. “They set up another date? A date.” He spat out the word like it was a curse.

“No,” Laura sounded scandalized. “That’s so…so…civilized. I can’t believe we’re sticking around town so Winchester can have a…a fivesome.” She called across the room to the bartender for another drink and after she took a long swallow of beer she said, “Knight of Hell, my ass.”

“Fucking weak.”

Dean took another sip of whiskey. He let the glass linger on his lips, enjoying the fire against his skin. Dean heard a lot of imprecations against his character lately. That was a consequence of falling in with demons. If he acted against every insult he'd have perpetually bloody knuckles and a whole hell of a lot less fun.

The truth was, they weren’t sticking around for the triplets, though they were very fun. Instead, he and Crowley were sticking around because the bar’s nice. It had a good sound system and decent booze, and there was plenty of tail to chase in this transitory place. Crowley had suggested moving on, but Dean had stopped him. “When was the last time you ever had a chance to relax, man?” And Crowley had taken one good look at him and backed right down. That’s true. Never. Might as well.

It was a good situation, and Dean didn’t intend to screw it up any more than he had to. He’d just sit quietly, finish his drink, and maybe bamboozle the bachelorette party camped out in the corner out of some hard earned money. Or sleep with the bride-to-be. The night was young.

But of course that wasn’t the end of it. Of course there was more.

An elbow bumped into Dean a little while later, deliberate and sharp against his back. “Oops,” Brent said at his ear. “Sorry. ”

Dean turned in his seat slowly and let his gaze flick along Brent fleetingly, like he was a fly. He turned away again, only Brent cleared his throat and said, “How does it feel?”

Dean swiveled to Brent and raised his brows consideringly. “Excuse me?”

“How does it feel,” Brent said with a sneer, “to suck so miserably at being a demon? I swear to god, you’re the most white bread demon I ever—”

Dean smiled lazily and grabbed the demon’s arm. His fingers cut into Brent hard enough to elicit a wince and Dean’s smile grew into a grin. “You got a problem with me, Brent?” Fear flicked across Brent’s expression, but it quickly turned into disgust. Dean let him pluck his fingers from his arm and drop his hand away. “You’re drunk. Which is a real fucking accomplishment for a demon, so kudos to you.” Dean lifted his glass in a mock salute.

“Yeah? Well you’re a shitty demon. Shitty and boring and…” A knowing expression crossed his face. “Bet it was all the angel dick you were getting.” He thrust his hips once and hissed, “Oh yeah, that sweet fire of the lord! Diluting everything that should make you great. Making you a waste of…of everyone’s time. You’re not a real demon.”

The Mark hissed against Dean’s forearm. It bubbled like liquor in his blood and he found himself baring his teeth. He let go of his glass. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he warned.

Brent snorted. “Please, everyone knows. Crowley’s talked about it. Hell, everybody talks about it. I don’t know why we bother when it’s obvious you’ve been compro— urk”

A moment later, Dean pulled the knife out of the demon’s ribs, winking as the blade scraped against bone. He swiped Brent’s blood casually against his a paper bar napkin and tucked it back in the sheath hidden in his pocket. “Talk about Cas again,” he said pleasantly, balling up the bloodied paper and dropping it next to his glass on the bar top, “and I’ll turn you inside out.”

He fucking had limits, after all.

The thing about Michael, Dean learned quickly, was that he was not a people person. Er…angel. And Dean didn’t mean that the archangel was unfriendly, although he was without a doubt a complete dick. No, it was that Michael simply didn’t…get people. He didn’t understand their motivations, or their complexities. He would ask Dean, early on, about the proper things to say to a human to sway them to his side. Like there was a manual every human was born with, and he need only ask for a copy. He’d asked about the angel Anael as though he and Dean were two colleagues, still working side by side. He’d asked before he’d tortured. Before he’d taken.

He’d asked because Michael truly was baffled. That fundamental lack of understanding would be how they would win, Dean often thought. He stewed over the problem in the prison Michael had built for him in his own mind.

“You think in black and white,” he muttered as he leaned over the lock in his hands. By concentrating very hard, he was able to manifest a version of the lock Michael placed over his latest trap for Dean. With a physical representation in hand, it felt easier now to pick at it and worry at it like a mouse nibbling away at a wall.

Michael had ranted to him early on about “fallen things,” which Dean had come to realize encompassed all of creation - humans, demons, surviving angels - you name it. For Michael, there was a high state and a low state, and nothing in between. “You don’t understand want or need or…or love. Just words.” He pushed the pin in and heard a click. “Just weapons.”

Encouraged, he kept on with it. “We have dreams. Desires. Hopes. We care about each other. We want fucking peace, you asshole.” Another tumbler clicked and Dean smiled. “And I’m not gonna let you ruin that.”

He’d thought for a while that Michael would try to batter down the walls of Heaven and take dominion of the place. The archangel enjoyed worship, thrived on it even. Michael had been bitterly disappointed by the impressions of angels in Dean’s mind, however. He’d been even more disappointed by his meeting with Anael, the supposed rebel fighting against Heaven.

If there was any rebel against Heaven slumming it on Earth, it was Cas, though. But Dean kept Castiel wrapped up firmly in his mind. Ever since Michael had taken over, pushed Dean down, Dean had dragged as much as he could from his memories of his loved ones down with him and pushed it into the dark corners of his mind.

Dean chewed on his lip as he worked at the lock. There were a lot of dark corners in his mind. Corners filled with pain that kept Michael at bay, as effective as insect repellant. It was almost laughably easy to bury his heart away from Michael.

Dean remembered the last time he saw Cas, after Michael had entered his body. He’d been filled with power, with fire so heady it had taken all of his control to hold fast to the reigns and not slip away like a paper boat in a flood.

Castiel had stared at him, jaw clenched, and anguish painted across the lines of his face. Dean had noticed that first and then he’d seen him through Michael’s eyes. Power streamed off of Castiel like holy fire, constant and blue-hot. His wings hung from his shoulders in tattered pieces, mere fragments of what they once were before Metatron’s spell shredded them.

Dean had never seen any sight more beautiful. Castiel - glowing with his own glory. Castiel - broken once, twice, over and over again. Broken, but never giving up. Never. And he still looked at Dean like he believed in him.

Dean remembered how he had failed in Hell, so many years ago. How he’d cracked under torture, given up. Castiel had saved him then and the memory of him would save him now.

He would push back against the walls, the locks, the pain that burned him with every second of contact with Michael’s grace. Dean worked at the lock.

He vowed to fight, because he couldn’t stand the idea of backing down again. Of giving up. And most of all, he couldn’t stand the thought of letting Castiel down. Again.

The thing was, he felt like Cas was with him. Not just the memory of him, but him. There, and steady beside him. Inside him. Dean shook his head. It didn’t make sense, but he was tired of trying to sort things into real and fake in his mind, of all places. He wrapped himself around Cas, or Cas wrapped himself around Dean.

The lock clicked open and Dean gathered himself, pulled his heart around him like armor. He picked up the lock and watched it grow long and sharp in his hand. “Heeeeeere’s Johnny,” Dean shouted and felt Michael flinch like a tiger in the wild at the call of something wilder.

Leaping from his cell, Dean began to slice.

Castiel cleaned the blood from his face grimly with a sandpaper textured washrag. He wished somebody had told him just how rough he looked before he’d gone to speak to Jack. Telling Jack he would be okay without his grace to back him up would have been a shade better delivered if Castiel hadn’t looked like he’d just received the beating of a lifetime.

He sighed and scrubbed the blood from his skin, rinsing the rag under running water and watching the red blood swirl in the basin, then down the drain.

Even as a human, he’d never felt more mortal. He supposed that happened to everyone. The more people you cared about, the more you realized how tenuous everyone’s hold on life and happiness was. It was hard to keep up, some days, without feeling hopelessness crystalizing into something sharp and impenetrable.

The cut in his lip was beginning to heal, but Castiel still hissed involuntarily as he scrubbed at it. It stung.

The cut stung and Castiel was…he was…

Castiel pressed his hands to the sides of the sink and leaned against it for a moment. The porcelain was very cold. He watched the bloody water droplets run towards the drain. He stood there for a breath. Two. Three. Then he lifted his head again, resolutely.

Dean was out there.

Castiel finished washing his face. He wet one hand and combed it through his hair, pushing out the blood and laying it flat again. Dean was out there, burning within Michael. He would feel it if Dean were gone, wouldn’t he?

He would.

In his millennia of life, Castiel had watched many things die, and many more things cease to be entirely. He should be inured to it. But he wasn’t. And he wouldn’t let himself become that way. He’d keep the faith that Dean survived, that he cared to survive.

Castiel finished brushing his hand through his hair and let his grace shudder through his shattered wings, flicking the last of the fight’s grime from him. He was a fallen thing, more human than angel these days. But maybe that was a good thing. Maybe, that human side of him helped him to believe, when everything seemed stacked against him.

He was fallen, but he was not low.

In the end, Castiel believed Dean would be saved.

And so, he thought, flicking off the light in his room and heading back towards the library, he will.

[fluidityandgiggles]

Sleep Is For The Weak - Chapter 3

Previous Chapters: Prologue, Chapter 1, Last Chapter

Notes (I guess): This chapter was a nightmare to write but I’m just so happy I finished it. It also touches some subjects that will come up again in the future, for the sake of letting everyone process the events. I’ve experienced grief and it’s going to take a long time before this particular subject could be discussed again. See yourselves warned.

Again, credit to @broadwaytheanimatedseries for screaming at me to write this, and to @whatwashernameagain for Keep Him Safe, and also a tiny tiny lil bit to @anony-phangirl and @asleepybisexual for their general support and for being such great sports about me annoying them with my ideas… (oops).

(I’m trying to find a way to write my notes, so bear with me until I find a way that will stick. This will do for now.)

(KHS) Tag List (sort of): @em-be-lievable, @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2, @adoratato, @supremestoverlord, @royallyanxious, @madly-handsome, @hanramz-the-fander, @the-incedible-sulk, @poisonedapples, @virge-of-a-breakdown, @winglessnymph, @princeanxious, @smokeyrutilequartz, @im-bad-at-life (if any of you could tag the rest, please do! I’m improving my memory from day to day, but… yeah…)

Tag list: @bunny222, @ab-artist, @secretlyanxiouspersona, @your-username-is-unavailable, @virgilcrofters

Trigger warning: period appropriate transphobia (the early 00s were not exactly trans-friendly). This chapter also includes discussion of two rather tragic (in my opinion) real-life events, and very few mentions of food.

—————

"Today, we're going to do things a bit differently."

Saturday, October 12th, 2002

"Raise your hand if the idea of coming out, even if you're already out, terrifies the living hell out of you."

Almost all hands flew up.

"Raise your hand if you understand the dangers of staying closeted too."

Pretty much everyone took their hands down. Only very few stayed.

"Last week," India said after a long breath, "we lost… the community lost one of our own. We… we lost someone to hate crime." She lowered her hand. Remy was almost in pain, seeing her try to talk about it. She called him last night, asking him if it's not going to be too much for him (and if so, she has another thing planned). "Gwen Araujo was seventeen when she died because she was outed as transgender in a party."

"Wasn't this released, like, two days ago?"

"Yes, and that's why I want to talk to you about this. Just… excuse me. I wrote it all down… it’s kind of a tough subject..."

It took India a minute to settle her voice, and another couple seconds to fumble with some papers. "I'll bet you all remember where you were when the World Trade Center fell in September eleventh last year." The room fell into silence. "I'll also bet none of you remember where you were on new year's eve in 1993."

Remy knew exactly where this was going.

"It could be because you were nine years old, which is the case for some of us, or you were already in bed by ten. I know my parents insisted that I'd go to bed by ten that night for a couple reasons. But on December thirty-first, 1993, we lost another member of the community. His story was turned into an Oscar-winning movie, but l can assure you none of you remember where you were when Brandon Teena was murdered for being born a girl."

The chatter was back. Remy could isolate some of the comments. Not most, just some. And it hurt. The ones he managed to isolate were not good, but one was much louder than the other.

"Can you really compare the murder of thousands to the death of just one person?"

"No I can't. But what you fail to realize here is that I'm not comparing anything here. I'm just trying to bring up a subject—"

"And you're using the tragedy of others to—"

"I lost family in September eleventh. I'm well aware of the tragedy. I'm also aware of the fact that transgender people are killed at ridiculous rates and this is something we should discuss!"

The silence after that was incredibly unbearable. India was close to tears, and Remy… as much as he wanted to go hug her, he couldn't.

It was that painful.

"Today's topic was supposed to be discrimination and hate," Remy heard someone shouting into the air - one of the juniors probably. "We do this conversation every year. Please listen to what the poor girl has to say. She's only volunteering to do this, on top of—"

"That's okay, Chris. I don't need an advocate."

It was going to be a long meeting, and Remy was not looking forward to it.

—

"I'm sorry I didn't speak today."

"You did alright. Sometimes doing nothing is a good thing."

India was incredibly frustrated when they finally got to Kirkland House. Remy insisted on going with her, to make sure that nothing else happened. She called him a gentleman for doing that.

It was sweet of her.

She ranted a bit about a guy who lived on the same floor as her (Jared Kushner or something) who was a dick to her and tried flirting with her girlfriend all the time, she told him that she applied to get a master's degree in forensics at Georgetown after graduation, and then they reached Kirkland House.

"You can get back to Harvard Yard from here, right?"

"Of course. Who do you think I am?"

India kissed his cheek and waved goodbye, and went into Kirkland House. And then Remy was alone. Well, not entirely, he still had to go back to Weld Hall and call his dad, but…

He was alone.

The yard wasn't as crowded as it was earlier and the weather was cooling down considerably, the leaves were changing… Harvard Yard was a beautiful place in the fall, Remy learned quickly enough.

He had very little time to process his thoughts when he was almost tackled to the ground by a tiny blonde kid almost running in the direction of the exit. Aka, the main road.

"How is it that when we're outside of class we keep running into each other in the weirdest ways?"

"That's less weird than how my grandparents met," Emile said, breathless.

"Not what I said, babe."

"No, really! My grandpa was coming back to Amsterdam from London just as my grandma was on her way to London straight out of Auschwitz, and—"

"Can we keep this story for another time?"

"...sure." Emile gave Remy a half-smile. "So… I kinda have to go to Party City. I need to stock up for Halloween."

"Didn't you go there two weeks ago?"

"Yes, but they didn't have this one thing I really needed, and I kinda forgot a couple other things, so they told me they'd call when they got that thing they didn't have, so I'm going to pick it up!" He was… incredibly jumpy today. It was rather endearing. "You wanna come? We can go get pizza."

"What thing are you missing, exactly?"

"A wig! I'm gonna be Kim Possible."

He was so excited… Remy started feeling bad for being this confused.

"...what?"

"Kim Possible! Don't you— you know what, it's okay if you don't know. It only came out in June anyway." The half-smile turned into a full, bright one. He was adorable. "So, you wanna come with me?"

...well, he had nothing better to do for now.

"Sure, sunshine. But I need to get my wallet and phone first."

"Yay! Anyway, so Kim Possible is this show, it's on the Disney Channel but trust me it's not that bad… "

—

Emile was growing on Remy more and more each day. And… he may have started getting interested in Kim Possible after going out for pizza with him. The never ending energy was growing on him in a way. It was impossible not to like his enthusiasm, and…

Yeah, he was starting to grow on Remy.

"So, now, lucky that I'm vegetarian, right?" Emile said as he took his third slice of pizza. "So at least I have some sort of excuse, at least according to my aunt, but we just keep having to explain to them what kosher means and—"

"Are we still talking about your sister, Emile?"

"What?"

"We were talking about your sister and then you started talking about… well…"

"Oh! Yeah, sorry!"

"Please stop apologizing. You're not doing anything wrong."

"Right. Umm… so… Doctor Gilliam suggested I might want to get evaluated at the psych clinic sometime soon," Emile mumbled, straightening his glasses. Slightly more closed off. Making Remy feel real guilty. "I don't… I don't know why, but he said I might want to."

"And you're just gonna take him up on that?"

"Yeah? No? I don't know. I'm only sixteen, honestly, I'm gonna have to talk to my parents about this."

Sixteen?!

"Yeah, I thought I told you!"

...shit. He spoke out loud. Shit.

"I'll be seventeen in December. But… never mind. Do you think I should listen to him? About the evaluation?"

"I have, like… no idea."

The way back to Cambridge was full of even more chatter about everything and nothing, and Remy couldn't put in a word. Not that it mattered anyway. Emile was interesting.

Remy gave his input whenever he could, but he would much rather listen to Emile talk. He had an adorable voice

—

"You didn't call me last week, kiddo. Found yourself a guy?"

"Dad, please…"

"Do you think you're going to take her up on that offer?"

"Dad, daddy, papa, David, any normal person when answering the phone would ask how are you doing. Not if you hooked up with a guy or if you're going to babysit your sisters who you've never met just because your bitch of a woman who birthed you asked you to."

"When have we ever done anything normal, Remy?"

"Well… true. But no, I'm not going to take her up on that offer. I don't really care, to be honest."

"They're your sisters."

"And so is India but you don't see me trying to—"

"You haven't told me much about her, kid."

"Well… she's not doing okay lately. Did you see the news? About that girl in California?"

"Edward Araujo?"

"Gwen."

"Right. Sorry. It's just… the news."

"It's okay. But… India is losing it over this case. And honestly… I get her. It's terrifying to see someone of your kin just…"

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. But really, did you hook up with anyone?"

"Nah. Dad, I'm eighteen. I'm not you."

"Hey, your mom got pregnant with you because of this one time when we were seniors when she had an empty house this one week in December and threw away my condoms when I tried to—"

"Dad, that's disgusting and please don't bring this up ever again."

"Got it. But anyway?"

"...there's a guy in my major, his name is Emile���"

"You gonna ask him out?"

"Dad, no! He's sixteen."

"And he's a psychology major?!"

"I asked myself the same question. But yes. He is."

"Well, I mean… he's within the appropriate age range for you. I guess."

"...what is it about I don't want a relationship at this stage of my life didn't you hear?"

"You're eighteen, Remy! One day you're gonna find someone and—"

"That's the thing. I'm eighteen. I have many more years ahead of me."

"Okay. Whatever you say. Any other boys I should know about? Girls, too, if you're into them now?"

"Just… this one guy. His name is Chris, he's a bit older… I don't know. Should I really be talking to you about this? You're my dad!"

"Am I not allowed to be interested in my son's love life anymore?"

"You weren't this interested in it when I was in high school."

A long sigh. "Remy…"

"I know you're worried, Dad. Believe me, I do. But I'm doing just fine! Rashida has dance parties every Wednesday for some reason so we bond over that, Lucy is basically just my map to going everywhere, we haven't hung out that much, Sammy is being a cutie all the time and Katherine is obsessed with everything. She really likes Emile's bunny for some reason and keeps talking about how her niece and nephew would absolutely love it. Her niece is two years old! I just…"

"Sounds to me like you're making friends."

"Well… yesterday I went with Emile to Party City. I don't know what I'm doing for Halloween this year, but…"

"What was that you just said?"

"If all goes right, I'll be Jack Skellington. But I don't have a backup."

"What would you need a backup for? You'll do great!"

"So, how's your girlfriend?"

"Eh, I don't know. Elaine isn't… that… you know."

"I'm sure she's absolutely lovely."

"Yeah, so was I. Can't wait for you to meet her."

"Can't wait either."

"...are you sure you don't want to babysit Linda's girls?"

"Dad!"

"Just asking!"

[theclaravoyant]

Changing Stripes (bi!Fitz - Ch.6 - Now Complete!)

AN ~ a fic literally years in the posting (oops) has finally finished and bi!Fitz has finally cocooned through his journey and is ready to come out; and who better to hear it first than his long-time best friend, fellow queer, & potential partner, Jemma Simmons!

*note: I have left the endgame ship(s) of this fic deliberately ambiguous. I invite you to ship whoever you want; follow it through to its canon conclusion or keep FS platonic, I do not mind (hello, I love both options so much I couldn’t finish the fic for literal years!), but there’s been a lot of tagging/shipping discourse up in here lately and I’m not here for it, so: this fic doesn’t “belong” to any ship. It belongs to bi!Fitz, no matter who he ends up with <3

and now, without further ado: Rshps: platonic (or pre-rshp) FS with mentions of romantic FitzSimmons, FitzMack, FitzHunter, FitzSkye, Skimmons, and Simmorse. Rated: T for mild sexual references & innuendo. Fluff (with a few angsty moments, but I promise I make up for them :P)

for Anon prompt, and @meanderings0ul who I think might enjoy it, based on a recent prompt of theirs as well :)

bi!Fitz comes out to bi! (or pan) Jemma

Changing Stripes

“So what’s going on with you?”

“How d’you mean?”

Fitz looked over his shoulder, back at Jemma who was lying on the couch. She put a piece of popcorn into her mouth, shrugged, and repeated the question.

“You know. I was away for months, Fitz. It must have been awful, but I don’t expect you to have been thinking about me the entire time. You must have done something. Learnt something. Bought a shirt? Watched a movie? I don’t know. Something.”

“Yeah, nothing much,” Fitz replied with a shrug of his own. He reached for the bowl of popcorn, and Jemma slid it out of his reach with a firm glare.

“Leopold James Fitz,” she breathed. “First: I was stuck on a desert planet, mostly alone, and it was permanently night time. For six months. You don’t even know what doing nothing is. And second: please get dramatic about something? I need the gossip.”

I need to know you didn’t spend the entire six months thinking about nothing but me, was what she wanted to say, but their relationship still wasn’t quite what it had once been; still wasn’t quite sure exactly what it was. She had to be careful with it. But she also wanted to let her friend know – because that’s what he still was, no matter what else happened – that she cared about him. She missed him. That, at least, he seemed to get, as he gestured for her to sit up and came to sit up beside her, rather than in front of her on the floor.

“Something did happen, actually,” he confessed. There was a little sparkle in his eye, but a nervous energy to the way that he moved, the combination of which piqued Jemma’s curiosity. Seeing the words on the tip of his tongue, she held out the popcorn bowl, and he downed a handful as one might drink a shot before revealing big news. He took a deep breath.

“I came out,” he declared. “Well – I guess I didn’t, technically, come out ‘til just now. You’re the first person I’ve told. Joey knows, sort of, but-“

“As what?” Jemma interrupted.

“Hm?”

“Came out as what?” Her eyes glimmered with pride and excitement. She bit back her instinct to say I told you so, and grinned at him instead. “You never said.”

“Oh,” he said, and grinned, as the gears in his head stopped grinding; overthinking; qualifying. “I’m bi.”

Jemma squealed, jostling the popcorn dangerously close to falling out of the bowl.

“Tell me everything!” she begged. “How did you know? When did you know? Was it Mack? It was Mack wasn’t it. Or was it Hunter… He’s a little roguish, but he’s got that loner-with-a-heart-of-gold air working for him quite well, doesn’t he? I can see you falling for that.”

Fitz waved her off. “It was lots of things. Ever since the Academy. I just kept telling myself, it was nothing – you know, it was hormones or jealousy or whatever.”

“Life goals or wife goals,” Jemma added, nodding in understanding.

“- but every time I started to think about it, really think about it,” Fitz continued, “something would happen, and it would go away, or I’d spook myself and hide it. Joey saw through all that, and he sort of- he got me to reflect on all this stuff, the crushes and everything, and I realised that actually… I’ve known about this for a long time. I just wasn’t ready to accept it.”

Jemma nodded. Her own sexual awakening had come to her rather easily, but she knew a good number of people for whom it had not been so simple, or welcomed. Yet she couldn’t help but spare a moment of solemnity for the messy timing of all this. She found herself wanting to ask, so what does this mean for us?, but of course she already knew. The answer was probably, nothing. Just because Fitz now recognised another side to his romantic and sexual nature, it didn’t change his feelings for her, and it didn’t change the mess they were in. And it didn’t change the fact that he still trusted her enough to tell her first.

“How do you feel about it now?” she asked instead.

“Honestly, good,” Fitz replied, then qualified - “Most of the time. I still doubt myself sometimes, or I think, what would Mack say if he caught me staring, you know? Would it change things between us?”

Seeing that he was starting to fret, Jemma put an arm around Fitz’s shoulder and pulled him close. These were waters she knew well.

“That’s okay,” she promised. “These are all very normal feelings, and you don’t have to tell Mack – or anyone – if you don’t want to. But he’s a good man and he won’t hate you for it. And, you know, have you ever considered that it could change things in a good way? If you feel like you’re hiding something or lying to him now, coming out might help that. You’ll feel more secure. And… you might even get a date out of it. I don’t know Mack’s situation, of course, but if I were you I wouldn’t let those guns pass me by without letting him know I was on the table.”

“… That’s a very sexual image.”

“Yes it is.” Jemma bit her tongue. She was going to enjoy mocking Fitz relentlessly, he always got so flustered when it came to matters of the body, but she had to ease him into it first. “But it’s not just a matter of that, is it? You said you liked the way Mack treats you, with respect, with forwardness, with kindness. You enjoy doing things together. Same taste in cars, same taste in movies; that’s as good a place as any to start. It seems to me you two could build, if you’d pardon the pun, quite the life together – or at least show each other a good time.

“Or what about Hunter? Now, I know for a fact he likes people of the masculine persuasion. He’s got a nice beard, very rugged, and don’t think I haven’t seen you checking out that ass. From what I’ve heard, he’s also a great softie, underneath all that swagger. You two would get along quite well, I’d imagine. Although, the fights over football would be a problem. He barracks for a different team does he not?”

Fitz snorted, as if about to start on a rant at the very thought, but then something occurred to him and he smiled to himself. “We play together too, though. Football, I mean. He’s rather good at it.”

“See?” Jemma nudged him. Fitz laughed.

“Alright, so are you going to set me up with every guy in this place or what?” “Well, you don’t have many options left as regards the women,” Jemma pointed out. “Daisy’s somewhat taken, apparently; May, while gorgeous, is too old for you; and I’m sorry but Bobbi is just out of your league.”

“Oh, but right in yours is she?”

“What?” Now it was Jemma’s turn to blush.

“Don’t ‘what’ me,” Fitz scoffed, smugly taking another handful of popcorn. “You know full well what I’m talking about. You started at her legs when she walked into the lab the first time for a full minute. A full minute Jemma-“

“What about you!” Jemma retorted. “I saw you lick your lips when Mack walked out the other day with that tank top and the grease stain on his collarbone-“

“You started fake cursing like an old woman from the South the first time you saw Daisy without a top on-“

Verbal arguments failing her, Jemma shoved the bowl of popcorn at Fitz. He shoved it back, and she deflected it straight onto the floor, sending popcorn spilling out across the carpet. They paused for a moment in their bickering, and decided they’d best clean it up, so they slithered onto the floor together and crawled around on their hands and knees, dropping popcorn piece by piece back into the bowl. The fight was not over yet though, with Jemma taking this distraction as a chance to have the final word.  

“It’s not like you can talk, Mr ‘let me show you my equipment,’” she mumbled.

“What was that?” Fitz beckoned, and flicked a piece of popcorn at her. It bounced off her shoulder. “Did you have something you’d like to share with the class, Ms ‘well formed and symmetrical’?”

“Ugh, Fitz!” Jemma groaned, and threw a handful of kernels at him.

“Shove off!” he yelped, trying to shield himself against the rain. He reached for the bowl, half-full of their recovered popcorn, and flicked handful after handful in retaliation. Jemma gathered her reserves from what remained on the floor, and the two of them engaged in a highly undignified food-fight until there was nothing left but abandoned corn like fallen snow, and two very giggly super geniuses, catching their breath from laughter for the first time in years.