#I’ve been having a really shitty time these past few months

[awakefor48hours]

I haven’t bumped anything like the opening to Fionna and Cake in a while. I mean “I’m not really feeling like myself today” superb. Amazing. Love it

[anticraic]

i received some incredibly deviating and horrible news over the weekend and i’m really having trouble coping with it. i’ll briefly describe it in the tags but if anyone could lend a nice word or story or photo or literally anything it would be really appreciated right now. thanks.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

The Better Man

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.1k

Warnings: fluff, minor angst

Summary: You're a single mom who hates bringing men into your life only to have them leave. Your daughter deserves better than that. You're currently dating Spencer, and you're wondering if it's the right time to bring him into her life. Will it be worth it?

Square Filled: “you want? you want? you want? what about what I want?” for @anyfandomgoesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

I can do this. I’m more than capable of getting breakfast ready for both me and my daughter. Even if she is screaming her head off. Oh, please be quiet. Please make it stop.

“Gemma, please stop crying. I am getting your food.” She continues to cry. “Baby, please. I’m working as hard as I can right now.”

If anyone were to look in your kitchen window, they would see a woman who is just trying to feed her child while looking like a raccoon with messy bedhead hair. The bags under your eyes don’t help your case, either, but you haven’t gotten much sleep this past week. Gemma has been sick and has been keeping you up at all hours of the night.

Sometimes you feel like a shitty mom because it seems like whatever you do isn’t enough. Being a single mom is hard. No one told you how to do this. No one gave you a rule book and said, “Here you go! Study for the final exam!” where the final exam is actually having a kid. You’re doing the best you can do even if it doesn’t feel like it.

Before you can start crying because Gemma is crying, you plate some bananas, cereal, and small strawberries on a plate for her. She immediately stops crying when the food is in front of her, and she digs in. You chuckle tiredly and kiss the top of her head. She is getting so old. It seems like yesterday you birthed her when really, it’s been eight months.

Your phone rings and you light up at seeing Spencer’s name.

“Hey,” you answer.

“Hey. I’m off this weekend if you want to hang out.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to get a sitter,” you sigh. “I’m pretty low on money right now.”

“That’s fine. I don’t mind if you bring her along. I understand if you don’t want to, but I’m really great with kids. I’d love it if she came along.”

You and Spencer have been seeing each other for a few months but he hasn’t met your daughter yet. You don’t want to introduce her to someone new if they’re not going to be in your life for very long. You really like Spencer and you hope he’s going to be in your life for a long time. He’s been very patient when it comes to your daughter, and maybe it’s time they meet.

“Why don’t you come over? I’d feel more comfortable having a date here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I think it’s time you meet Gemma.”

“Okay, yeah! I’ll bring some food over and we can cook together.”

“That’d be amazing,” you smile.

“I gotta go. I’ll see you Friday.”

“Okay. Bye.” You hang up with a huge smile on your face. “You hear that, Gemma? You get to meet Spencer. He’s a sweetheart. You’ll love him.”

She squeals in response but it’s mostly because she wants more bananas. You’re not worried that she will love him, it’s if Spencer will love her. You can’t think about that. You have work to get to. The call center you work at has a daycare attached to it for parents who can’t get someone to watch their kids, so every day is Bring Your Daughter To Work Day.

The weekend comes faster than you expected but that means Spencer gets to come over. He might even spend the night if all goes well. When Spencer comes over, he is nothing but sweet towards Gemma. She is playing in her playpen but as soon as Spencer walks in, she squeals and crawls over to him.

“Spencer, this is Gemma. Baby, this is Spencer.” Spencer grins and picks her up once she gets to him. “I’ve been trying to get her to walk lately. She turns eight months next week.”

“Hi, Gemma. Do you want to walk for Mama? Yeah, I can see it. You’ll get there,” he chuckles.

Spencer brings in the groceries he bought so you two can cook lunch while Gemma plays and watches Spongebob. While you don’t know how to be a single mom, and learning every day to be better, you’d rather do this than be with the ex who knocked you up. He left you when you were pregnant so it’s just been you and Gemma for a long time now. It’s hard to let men in your life, especially with a kid so young, but Spencer has been nothing but a complete gentleman to you. He takes things at your pace, never does anything to make you uncomfortable, and always puts you and Gemma first.

Dinner is spent talking about your week and the plans you have this weekend and afterward, Spencer goes to the living room to play with Gemma some more. He’s really warming up to her. Maybe this is going to be a good thing. Your phone rings and your blood runs cold when you see who is calling you. You excuse yourself and step off to the side while Spencer tosses Gemma in the air a few inches only to catch her. Her laughter makes this night all the better.

“What do you want?” you ask when you answer the phone.

“Hey, you got any money to spot me? I’m in a bit of a pickle,” your ex asks.

“Are you kidding me right now? You call me up after how many months only to ask for money?”

“Can you do it or not?”

“Fuck no,” you hiss on the phone. “This might be in your grand plan, but I want you to actually start acting like a dad and be there for Gemma. You know, the daughter you have?”

“You want? You want? You want? What about what I want?”

“You’re a piece of shit.”

“Fuck this. I can’t believe calling you was ever a good idea.”

He hangs up after those harsh words, and you try your hardest not to cry. He’s fucking lucky you’re not going after him for child support, but maybe you should.

“Y/N! Look!” You look at Spencer and Gemma to see her walking toward him on wobbly legs. “She’s walking!”

“Gemma!” you gasp and rush over. “You’re walking, baby!”

Before she can fall to the ground, Spencer scoops her in his arms and kisses her cheeks. She has no idea what is going on but she loves the attention. Spencer looks like he doesn’t want to be anywhere but here. Seeing him with Gemma today has only made you realize that he’s the only man you ever want in Gemma’s life.

x

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[orphicdreamers-wp]

Girl Of My Dreams — Mat Barzal

Summary: In which Mat Barzal inadvertently falls for the oldest Hughes sibling and her brothers aren’t happy.

Content Warning; Taylor swift 1989 isn’t by Tay(its by reader) Mentions of University of Alabama (reader went there) Trevor Zegras being hopelessly in love with reader. Readers social media face claim is Addison Rae bc idc she’d clear as a WAG for a athlete.

Pairing: Mat Barzal x Hughes! Reader.

Mat would be lying if he said he didn’t sneak glances at the announcers box after meeting you. You had been carrying a plate of food and two margaritas to your booth where your friends sat. Tito had made a joke about you seeming familiar then the pair heard your voice and knew, “Alright now, eat up because y’all are bumming me out.” Mat’s jaw slacked, “He’d known that the Islanders had gotten a new game announcer who was a girl but he wouldn’t have known it was you. You were effortlessly stunning, you had captivated the attention of every straight man in the bar. Mat had approached you as you sat at the bar, “I’m Mat, can I buy you a drink?”

You grinned and spoke, southern accent slipping out, “I’m Y/N, I mean Barzy after the way you played last game? You better buy me a drink. ‘Yknow how many hate comments my broadcast got?” Mat grinned as the bartender approached you, “Another Corona Light and whatever she’s having on me.” You grinned sheepishly, “I’m fucking with you. I’ve heard worse.” Mat grinned, “So now would probably be a shitty time to ask you out?” You smiled at him, “Maybe not.” Mat smiled, “If I may, your not from New York are you? Where are you from?” You grinned, “I grew up in Toronto with my 3 younger brothers and moved to Alabama for college and been in New York for a few months now.” Mat grinned, “Well welcome to New York beautiful.” That was a year and a half ago. You still hadn’t told your brothers who your boyfriend was, just that his name was Mathew. Until your album release came creeping in and you wanted to go public with Mat.

Instagram

ynhughes; my album ‘1997’ is now streaming! thank you for all your support(especially the bf, ‘slut’ and ‘suburban legends’ are 4 us)

barzal97: celebrating you is my favorite pastime. i have never met someone who people gravitate towards more than you. you are by far the most wonderfully amazing woman i know. it is a privilege to say i love you🤎 this past year or so has changed my life. you make living easy and so so much better. i can’t wait to see what the future has in store for you.

trevorzegras: alexa play that should be me💔💔

ynhughes: forever in awe of you mathew barzal. amazed a gal like me is lucky enough to be adored by you🤎

oliviarodrigo; THEY HIT THE PENTAGON!! @conangray

>conangray; told you it was them i saw at radio music hall!

ny_islanders; our roman empire is all the sweet posts for to y/n today🥹🥹

sydneyemartin: brb crying. the purest people in the world. so grateful my girls get to grow up seeing a love this pure that isn’t their parents.

>ynhughes: we adore your girls more than words can express.

_quinnhughes: my biggest inspiration is out here killing it. in awe of you everyday sissy🥹 thank you for being my best friend from day 1

ynhughes: in a puddle of tears quinny. thank you for always being on my side, even when im wrong.

sabrinacarpenter; hockey players making me ugly sob wasn’t on my 2023 bingo card

elhughes; my first babies🥹 extremely emotional over you all today

>_quinnhughes: we love you momma💕

jackhughes: 1997 reasons to love my meanie head sister, i guess her bf’s alright

ynhughes: i love you little brat, come visit me and mat!!

>jackhughes: will do, sissy🫡

trevorzegras: i can’t believe she won’t date me 😞😞

>ynhughes: buck up z, your way too young for me. perfect age for @sabrinacarpenter tho!

lukehughes: the worlds best big sister came out with the best album to date

ynhughes; really feeling the hughes love train today, i need to plan for all of us to be together soon! so y’all can meet Mat!

etnow; this just in; the Hughes brothers have brought tears to my eyes supporting their sister

barzal97: the third picture is actually the most accurate representation of your sister now

>lukehughes; always messing with those darn cats! even if they are on the side of the street.

[zweiginator]

hear me out. you and patrick are best friends, but you both secretly want more. you decide to go out on a date with someone to try to get over him, but it gets the best of patrick and he bribes the dude not to show up or something and confessions and smut ENSUE hehehehe

like he grew up so rich that he’s a little detached from money and wealth and all that.. so when he knows you’re going out with the captain of the stanford lacrosse team (which he thinks is an incredibly stupid sport)—he meets up with the guy. feigns interest in his game and tells him its in his best interest not to show up to the date he has planned with you tonight.

he looks flabbergasted at how much cash patrick hands him. $2k like it’s a twenty dollar bill.

“why should i take this from you?” of course he’s planning to. he honestly just wants to get his dick wet, and $2k is a lot of beer and weed.

“you don’t have to.” patrick gets in his face, close enough to make the boy visibly uncomfortable. patrick is taller than him by a few inches. he grabs his collar. “i’m just saying it’s in your best, interest that’s all.”

he grabs the cash and quickly walks away, muttering about how much of a freak patrick is.

patrick laughs.

you call patrick an hour after the date was supposed to start. you had waited at the sushi restaurant for the full sixty minutes. texted him a couple times. he never responded; in fact he blocked you.

“pat,” you’re sniffling. not because you really like this guy, but because he left you abandoned like a dumb little puppy. played with your time and your feelings.

this is the part patrick feels shitty about.

“what’s wrong hon?”

“he stood me up—i don’t get why this keeps happening. am i that awful to be around? i did my makeup and everything-“

“shh. you’re not awful to be around these guys are fucking pricks. i’ll beat up every last one of them.”

in reality, he had told your past few love interests he would beat them to a pulp if they showed up on the date. confused, they each took their cash and agreed.

but you are obviously really upset by this. maybe one is forgivable, but four is excessive. four had tainted your self-confidence.

patrick comes to your house with flowers.

“you didn’t have to—oh pat.” you sniffle and hug him, standing on your tippy toes. you’re in the prettiest little sundress. god, patrick wouldn’t take any amount of money to leave you behind.

“sit down. i need to confess something to you. don’t be mad please.”

“did you get caught driving high again?”

patrick laughs. “no, no. i’m better than that now. i—how do i say this.”

“you’re making me nervous.” you cut the ends off the flowers, putting them in a vase. you notice it’s a dozen red roses, interesting choice.

“i—i’ve been telling your past few dates to, like, not show up.”

“what the fuck do you mean?” you slam the scissors down. “how?”

“i have been bribing them. and—threatening them. like, an insinuation there is a threat.”

“patrick what the fuck why?”

you’re livid. he had pretended for months to be confused, had come to your house late at night to comfort you—all because of something he orchestrated?

but you see that look he’s giving you. his green eyes huge with worry and sorrow. he rarely has that look.

patrick swallows. “i don’t want you to go on dates with them. i want you to be with someone who really appreciates you.”

“how am i supposed to know if they appreciate me or not when my dates are all fucking sabotaged?”

“well maybe i wanted to come over and comfort you and watch movies and eat ice cream. maybe those have been our dates for the last few months.”

you know patrick is bad at sharing his feelings but jesus christ.

you lift his chin up; his back is against the counter as you stand in front of him.

“maybe.” you whisper, lips close to his. “you can just ask me out in the normal way.”

patrick slips one of your straps down your shoulders, heart beating. he never thought this far ahead. “we’ve been on a few dates already. i feel like it only makes sense that we fuck.”

patrick fucks you against the counter, your legs spread as he stands between them, pushing his cock into your weeping cunt. god, you wish he would’ve just confessed this earlier. he rubs his cock against you and revels in how you moan for him, clenching around nothing. as he pounds into you, his hands roaming up your body to squeeze and play with your tits, he kisses your neck, whispers in your ear.

“doesn’t fucking matter if those guys showed up i would’ve beat their asses—“ he thrusts deeper. “would’ve slashed their fucking tires—“ he pulls out, listens to you whine for him. and then he fucks back into you. “would’ve sabotaged it anyway. paid them each $2k not to fucking touch you. would’ve drained my bank account for this fucking pussy.”

[pullhisteeth]

worry lines | eddie munson

requested here -`♡´- your ex turns up and Eddie gets jealous. idiots in love! 4.7k

cw !!! for a borderline abusive (ex-)boyfriend. 18+ please and thank you x

contains hurt/comfort, fluff, jealous!Eddie, fem!reader, conflict, shitty ex-boyfriend. everyone’s in their early 20s

-

He was cruel, Eddie knows that much. Cruel enough that it took weeks and lots of gentle handling to coax it out of you. 

You were a shell of yourself until you weren’t. Eddie doesn’t know the details, because who would he be to make you relive it if you didn’t want to? But he knows enough to sear a tar-black scorch mark in his gut, a branding, a fury reserved only for him.

And he’s perhaps a little oblivious to it, but Eddie’s patience never went unnoticed by you. The two of you might be like parallel lines - apparently doomed to just miss one another forever - but you’re still filled to the brim with giddy love for him. The fact he stuck around through it all only adds fuel to the fire. Something unruly burns behind your eyes every time you think about him.

“What about this one?”

You hold up a record and show him the front while you peer at the back. Eddie looks up from the stack he’s been flipping through for the past three minutes.

“Garbage,” he mutters, eyes back on his busy fingers. 

“What?!” you exclaim, mouth wide and attempting to hide a grin. You’re fighting him for fun, really; you’re already putting the record back where you found it. “It came out, like, a month ago! How’ve you heard it already?” 

“Gareth’s mom got it for him for his birthday,” he tells you without looking at you, side stepping only slightly to move onto the next box of albums. He’s close enough now that you could lean over and bump his shoulder with your own. You don’t.

You sigh, though it’s bright with amusement. You go back to your own shelf, eyeing up the scarce new releases stock that Trax only manages to update every few months.

“No shit,” you whisper, grabbing with greedy hands at the record you’ve spotted. You catch Eddie’s attention, his own hands stopping as he looks over. “I’ve been looking for this everywhere!”

He smiles, not because he likes the album - it’s The Cure, and they’re far too British, even for him - but because he likes your smile. Sometimes you make a face, with your mouth twisted to the right, because you’re holding it back. You told him once that you don’t like your smile very much, that it’s too wide, too toothy. He couldn’t disagree more, and when he catches you in these moments, the ones just before you realise you’re grinning and close your mouth, he cherishes it.

“You want it?” he asks, tone nothing but genuine.

“Fuck off, Eds,” you say anyway, still smiling. He’s lapping it up. “I can buy it myself now, don’t need your filthy drug money.”

He elbows you softly with an expression of faux offence. “Hey, y’didn’t mind my filthy money all those times it got you food at Benny’s.”

This makes you giggle, and Eddie is on cloud nine.

You tear your eyes away from the cover to meet his and he damn near keels over; it’s like a mallet on his temple, a slap across the cheek. He could look at your eyes forever and it’d never not hurt.

“Can I buy you one?” you ask him, adding “please?” when he gives you a look like he’s about to tell you no.

“Absolutely not,” he says, still grinning.

“But you’ve bought me so many!” You’re closer now, toe to toe with him, beaming back at him and gripping the record between clenched fingers. “I make my own money now. Consider it me payin’ you back, or at least starting to.”

“You don’t have to pay me back,” he mutters, “I like buyin’ you records. At least it meant you listened to somethin’ other than this shit.” He bumps the bottom of the cardboard sleeve with his fist.

“Hey,” you bite, pulling it out of his reach. “I like The Cure.”

“I know y’do, that’s the problem.”

You look at him for a beat, one so brief he only just gets a chance to take in your pensive face - adorable - before you scrunch your eyes and stick your tongue out at him.

“Suit yourself,” you say, turning on your heels and marching down the aisle, heading for the cash register.

He watches you cross the store, the way your walk shifts from comical to confident. This walk is familiar to him; it’s your I’m-nervous-because-I’m-in-public walk.

His eyes are still on you when you take your change from the girl behind the desk. He watches you pocket it, and catches your self-satisfied smile as you turn. And then he watches as it falters, and your face drains of colour, and he feels himself walking over to you before he has time to think about it.

You’re looking at the door, where the bell’s just chimed, and the bottom of your stomach’s fallen away. Heart in your throat, you stare blankly at the man who just walked in.

“Oh, hey,” he says, though he may as well be on the other side of the glass for the way he sounds so distant. He shakes snow off his hair and you feel the ghost of it between your fingers. “Fancy seein’ you here.”

You feel Eddie before you can muster up a response. He stands behind you, just close enough that, if you wanted to, you could reach behind and take his hand.

“Hey,” he says lowly, just by your ear, words for you alone. “Who’s this?”

There’s something simmering in his voice, something defensive. He knows.

“Uh, hi,” you squeak, fingers clutching the plastic bag you’re holding to keep them from shaking. “Hi- uh, Eds, this is, uh-”

“Tom,” the man says, sticking a gloved hand out to Eddie. You feel him shift slowly behind you; his eyes move between the back of your head and the man in front of you a few times before he returns the gesture.

He’s handsome, Eddie thinks. Better looking than he is, anyway. Cleaner, softer; none of the hard edges Eddie harbours that he doesn’t know you think are soft as anything.

“We used to go out,” you say quickly, before Tom tries to explain it himself and makes you feel smaller than you already do. You hope Eddie gets the hint.

He does. The burning in his gut flares and his hands clench into fists without him meaning them to.

“Eddie,” he states, sharp and blunt.

“We were just, uh- We’re headed out,” you say, and the way you’ve come over all nervous and quiet is almost enough to make Eddie’s heart split right down the middle. He hovers a hand over the small of your back and steps around you, around Tom, until you follow him.

“Well, see you around,” he says as the bell chimes again and Eddie damn near pulls you out into the snow.

The cold, damp flakes that land on your flushed cheeks are a sweet relief. So are Eddie’s hands, which wrap around yours to take the bag from you. He doesn’t miss how they shake.

“Fuck,” you breathe. The air escapes your lungs and doesn’t return for a second, long enough that you have to think to inhale. Eddie looks you over, desperate to pat you, fawn over you, kiss the snowflake off the bridge of your nose.

He opts for something safer. “You alright?”

The busy Indianapolis sidewalk doesn’t allow for too much fussing, and you’re quietly grateful for the bustling Saturday afternoon crowd pushing the two of you along and away from Trax.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, breathless again, trudging through stomped-over snow. “Just took me by surprise.”

“Yeah, no shit. When’d you last see him?”

“When I picked up my stuff from his place.”

“Shit.”

You walk aimlessly around the corner, until Eddie begins to lead the way. Wordlessly you follow him for six blocks, and think to yourself that maybe he’s getting you as far away as he can.

He knows a coffee place, apparently, one so much better than any of the ones around Trax that you know are just as good. He ushers you into the warmth and buys three pastries - one each and one to share - and you eat until you’re not thinking about Tom anymore.

-

Robin sidles into the booth beside you, the familiar shape of her slotting into your side without care. She nudges her hip into yours, a wordless signal for you to move around and make more space.

The six of you squeeze around the tiny table as Eddie and Steve place drinks down across it. Pints of beer, far too big glasses of wine and six sickly coloured shots decorate it and all of a sudden you’re counting to five and banging a tiny glass on the varnished wood.

It tastes of sour apple and coats your lips with a shiny, sugary lacquer. Eddie sits opposite you harbouring a fiery urge to lean over and kiss you clean.

You grin at him, missing the flicker of affection in his tipsy eyes, and lean into Robin, who takes a swig from one of the pint glasses.

“Rob!” Steve shouts, reaching over and grasping at the glass. “You asshole, that’s mine-”

“What’s yours is mine, dingus,” she slurs, her dopey smile met not by something frosty but by Steve’s own grin. The tenderness inside your stomach is just as sickly as the shot; you’re drunk on sugary liquor and an unbridled love for your friends.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The bickering stops as Eddie raises his glass from the table.

“A toast,” he says, “to the newly-weds.”

You grasp your own pint and raise it too, along with everyone else, as Nancy and Jonathan beam back at you. They’re the picture of happiness, her rosy cheeks blooming from joy and champagne, his smile so wide you’re scared he might split in two. Nancy’s so pretty in a simple, short dress, Mrs Wheeler’s pearls around her neck, and Jonathan looks so smart in his suit, fresh from the dry cleaners courtesy of Joyce. A long day of family celebrations ends here, in this bar on the east end of Indianapolis, four walls that have seen the six of you grow up and into yourselves.

Nancy and Jonathan thank everybody, and Steve disappears without a single one of you noticing, reappearing with a new round of shots. Robin takes your hand in hers and squeezes, which tells you that she’s putting off crying. You’ve already covered the shoulder of her new shirt in tears. Happy tears.

If some benevolent force happened to be looking down and caught a glimpse of your happy little table, they’d find that your mind and Eddie’s look very much alike right now. Dizzy daydreams of a future neither of you are confident in, that neither of you think the other would ever even dare to consider.

The distant call of your name pulls you up off Robin’s shoulder. You hear it again, and the voice it’s called in sends your blood running cold. Regardless it beckons you and you turn to look, seeing him approaching like a fucking stalking lion.

“Oh,” you breathe, “hi.”

His unwelcome hands spread over the back of the booth, his fingers brushing the back of your neck. You bristle.

He grins down at you and then looks up and around at everybody else. “Hey, guys. I guess these are your friends?”

All you can do is look up at him. Eddie can see you recoiling and his stomach churns.

“Oh, hi again,” Tom says, spotting Eddie. This is your nightmare situation, frankly, and you’re afraid of where Tom might take it.

“Hey, man,” Steve says. His words are lopsided because he’s three pints and four shots in and too giddy to recognise this for what it is.

“Steve, right?” Tom asks. His knuckles whiten as he grips harder.

“Mm-hm,” Steve hums, leaning just enough to the left that Eddie has to push him upright. In the brief moment he’s preoccupied with his untrustworthy friend, he doesn’t see the way Tom dips his head to meet yours, or the attempt at a kiss on the cheek that you dodge, or even the quick words whispered in your ear. He does see you flush, your face, already warmed by wine, becoming even brighter. Before he can ask what’s happening, Robin’s scooting out to let you stand, and Tom’s hand’s on your waist and you’re off to the bar together.

Nancy shifts uncomfortably beside Jonathan, her hands on the table. “Is that…”

“Yeah,” Eddie says.

“Fuck,” Jonathan breathes.

“No way,” Robin barks, almost loud enough for Eddie to chastise her; you’re only twenty feet away.

Despite the stretch of time separating this moment from your last one with him, Tom’s hands haven’t become any less curious. They paw at you, never settling but instead trying each possessive spot he loved to frequent before you left him. Your waist was his favourite, but you’ve felt the unwelcome impression of his palm on each arm, your shoulder, the small of your back, and when he goes for your hip you twist just enough that he’s forced to drop it.

He’s telling you about his promotion. When you left, he’d been clamouring for it, doing everything he’d once confessed to hating: sucking up to his boss, shmoozing, working late. It pays well, apparently; well enough that he’s got his own place. It’s a five minute cab ride away. Want to come see it?

“Why would I want to do that?” you ask him, emboldened by the fiery rage his wandering hands are reigniting within you.

“Oh, c’mon,” he says, cooing your name with a sincerity so false that you taste the saccharine flavour of it on your gums, “you’re not telling me you haven’t missed me, huh?”

“No,” you tell him honestly, “I haven’t.”

“What, you with that metalhead or something?”

“Eddie is just a friend”, you bite.

“Yeah, right,” Tom scoffs, slamming his glass on the bar. He’s leaning closer, crowding you, and there are too many people behind him and all of a sudden you’ve lost sight of your table. “Knew I was right to put a stop to that.”

“Fuck you, Tom,” you spit, trying desperately to wriggle free. “I want to get back to my friends now, please.”

“Had his fuckin’ hands all over you the other day,” he continues, ignoring you. “Bet he tried it on when we were together, didn’t he?”

“No, he- Fuck, Tom, will you please just let me out-”

Eddie catches glimpses of you between passing bodies. He sees the way Tom’s crowding you and how you’re squirming and, honestly, he wants to walk into the sea.

Tom was never introduced to your friends. It was mostly his own choice, but Eddie and Robin and everyone else saw it for what it was. You just managed to get out before he cut you off from them all completely.

Now, in the low light of the bar, he’s not so certain that you’re done with him. Sure, you seemed unnerved when you bumped into him at the record store, but he begins to wonder if maybe you’d just been caught off guard, and if you’d thought about him since then. Had you called him?

“Hey,” Robin mutters, leaning over the table to Eddie with her eyes on you, “I think- I don’t know, she looks annoyed.”

Finally, there’s a gap in the crowd, and he sees it too. The pinch of your brow, and the squirming that isn’t squirming. You’re scared.

He stands so quickly that his head spins. He sees Nancy in his peripheral vision standing too, though she’s penned in by Jonathan and Steve. Eddie’s heavy footsteps take too long, he’s too slow; Tom’s hand is around your arm and he’s leaving, taking you with him, willingly or not.

He follows the silhouette of Tom, dark against the brash streetlamp light coming in through the glass doors. He can see the top of your head and feels himself pulled to you like a fish on a line.

He catches up just as Tom pushes the door open and stumbles into the snow, blinded by the fluorescent bulb in the lamp above. You feel the inebriation seep out of you with every second spent in the cold, your bare arms covered in goosebumps.

“Tom, what the fuck?” you spit, finally separating yourself from him. You feel the burn left by his tough grip on your upper arm. He’s still close, close enough that he can take your head in one firm hand.

“Just wanted to see your pretty face,” he says, his voice suddenly softer, his breath too hot on your face, “couldn’t see you properly in-”

“Hey.”

You turn just as Tom does to find Eddie in the doorway. His fists are clenched again and so is his jaw; you know him well enough to see your own anger reflected back at you.

“You okay?” he asks, looking at you, tender as always and it does something to dampen the fiery rage you’re keeping at bay. You nod as Tom drops his hand and scoffs.

“See,” he spits, “loverboy won’t leave you the fuck alone.”

You take three steps back. Eddie comes closer.

“Go home,” he says to Tom as you reach out and take his fist into both hands. He relaxes, and you wind your fingers together. 

“Oh, c’mon,” Tom says, “you can’t be serious? Look at him, babe, he’s…”

“Can we go back in?” you whisper to Eddie, whose stern face is beginning to worry you. He says nothing but tugs on your hand and, to your relief, Tom seems to back away around the corner as you retreat indoors.

The door shuts and Eddie turns, but before he can say anything you throw your arms around him and push your face into his neck. He’s startled, but not so much that he can’t return it, his own arms around your back, the pressure a welcome thing.

“Hey,” he coos, “are you sure you’re okay?”

“Thank you,” you say, muffled by his shirt. “Thank you.”

He pulls back, too worried to care to hug you any longer. Instead he lets himself fuss over you, a tentative hand at your jaw as he looks you in the eye.

“I’m okay,” you finally say, sighing. “I hate him.”

Eddie can’t help but laugh. “I do too.”

“Thank you for not hitting him,” you murmur.

His fingers hover by your ear and just as you think he’s going to touch you, he lowers his hand.

“It’s okay,” he says. “I knew you’d hate that.”

He takes your hand again, a gesture which sends both of you independently loopy, and returns with you to the table, where Nancy nearly falls over Robin to get to you. As you reassure her and take your seat again, sandwiched between the two girls, Eddie takes a long swig of beer.

“Hey,” Steve slurs, leaning over to you. “Did y’know Eddie’s ears go red when he’s jealous?”

You look back at him with wide eyes as Eddie gives him a swift thwack to the arm, telling him to fuck off.

“It’s true!” Steve assures you. “I saw it with my own eyes! Like, five minutes ago, I-”

He’s stopped by more of Eddie’s playful hitting.

Quietly, just to you, Nancy says, “It’s true.”

You turn to look at her. She’s got that sparkle in her eye. It appears when she’s got a plan, or an idea, or knows something.

“For a minute, it looked like you were enjoying it,” she continues. “I bet he could’ve burned this place to the ground with how jealous he was getting.”

She nods to her left, where Eddie is dealing with a still restless Steve. He senses you looking and meets your eye, and the pretty pink blush that covers his cheeks is enough to make you look away.

-

The coffee machine pings just as the doorbell goes.

You jump, startled by both noises. Leaving the coffee to stew you pad through the apartment and open the door slowly, making sure to hide behind it to save the postman seeing you in your pyjama shorts.

When you pull it back, you’re surprised by the sight of your best friend, standing at your door in his own pyjamas.

“Morning,” he says, chuckling lowly.

“What are you doing here?” you ask as you let him inside. “Did you- Did you walk here in that?”

“God no,” he says, “have you seen it out there?”

Truthfully, you haven’t dared pull the curtains back yet. “No,” you admit, locking the door again and wishing you’d had the sense even in your drunken stupor to put your good pyjamas on. You pat the front of the crinkled cotton at the top of your thighs, smoothing it down to no avail.

“There’s coffee in the kitchen,” you tell him as you step over to the living room window and pull back the blind to reveal what can only be described as a blizzard.

Eddie comes in behind you with two steaming mugs. “Slept on Steve’s fucking couch,” he says, laughing again. “Dimwit couldn’t get himself into bed and then the weather got too bad for me to get a cab home.”

Steve lives two floors above you, in an apartment much the same as your own. His couch is small. Eddie’s back must hurt.

“How is he?”

“Steve?”

“Hm.”

“He’ll be fine,” Eddie sighs, throwing himself onto your couch and kicking his feet up, socked toes just missing the side of your bare thigh. “Probably regrets the fourth round of shots, but at least he had fun.”

“Did you have fun?” you ask softly.

“Yeah, I mean- Of course.” He reaches over to pick up your coffee and leans over to pass it to you. “Didn’t you?”

You take it from him and sit back, sighing. “Yeah, yeah, just…”

Your throat is suddenly too thick to drink the coffee. You stare at it, the deep mahogany liquid pouring steam into the tepid room.

“How does he still manage to ruin everything?” you ask, the question more an abstract frustration than anything aimed directly at Eddie.

He stiffens on the other end of the couch. He knows you don’t mean Steve, that your mind is elsewhere, on the impatient hands that couldn’t keep themselves from pressing painfully into your arm or the coddling of his hot breath on your face out in the snow.

“Hey,” Eddie coos, softening when he notices your hands shaking. He takes the mug, his own hands gentle on you to save from startling you, and replaces it on the table. “Here, c’mere-”

You lean into him, pushing your face into the softness of Steve’s sweater that he’s wearing. You keep apologising - variations of I’m sorry spat out between quiet sobs - and he keeps telling you it’s okay. One hand holds your elbow while the other smooths up and down your back, his cheek pressed to the top of your head.

“Thank you for saving me,” you say, and he exhales when he hears the smile in your words.

“Y’don’t have to thank me again,” he says. You lean back and the two of you sit as mirror images of one another, one knee up on the couch and the other foot on the floor. You wipe your eye with the back of your wrist. Eddie yearns to knock your hand away and do it himself, to clean you up and kiss you when he’s done. He keeps his hands to himself instead.

“I dunno what I’d have done,” you whisper, “I mean, I don’t think he’d have done anything, but I still don’t wanna think about it.”

“I don’t either,” Eddie agrees before he can stop himself.

You look at him. There are deepening shadows beneath his eyes that you’re sure the couch is to blame for, and his hair’s unruly, matted from what you can only imagine was an useless night’s sleep, but your favourite thing - the mellow brown of his eyes - is just as pretty as ever. So’s his skin, pale and imperfect where he’s inked the left side of his neck and you can see the very top of the scar that stretches over his collarbone. He broke it when you were both ten, and he still teases you about how quick you were to run from him when you saw the bone and the broken flesh. You’re desperate to know if it’d be warm under your fingertips, your lips, your tongue.

“Do your ears really get red when you’re jealous?” you ask him. You see him stiffen at the question, his eyes narrowing just so, as his hands flex over his knees.

“Steve’s an asshole,” Eddie says.

“I know-”

“But yeah,” he says, the corner of his mouth breaking loose into a smile, “He’s right. It’s stupid.”

You kick his foot with your own softly and laugh.

“Why were you jealous?”

“Oh, seriously?”

“Yes! Why were you jealous?!” you repeat, grinning.

“You’re really gonna make me say it?”

“Yes.”

He sighs, all dramatic and silly and you laugh until his restless hand lands on your knee instead of his own.

“I thought you were glad to see him,” he admits.

“I don’t know how you got that impression,” you say. You’re trying to ignore the soft rumbling in your chest, lest it take your breath away.

“Dunno,” he says, and suddenly he reminds you of sixteen-year-old Eddie, awkward and goofy, the boy you fell for.

“Well,” you say, “I’m very glad you came to my rescue.”

“I didn’t rescue you, you’re perfectly capable of doing that yourself,” he says, laughing. His knee knocks yours and his fingers spread until the tips of them are meeting the middle of your thigh.

“Still, it was a nice thing to do.”

He hums and you inhale as you place your hand on his. He looks up at you and the contact seems to provide some courage.

He says your name, and it’s softer than ever in the quiet of your living room. As far as the two of you are aware, there’s nothing beyond here; no blizzard, no hungover Steve two floors up, no shitty ex-boyfriends. Just you and Eddie and the string of starlight pulling you together.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks in a whisper, leaning in, already resting more weight on the hand on your thigh. Somehow, it feels like the most natural question in the world.

You nod. “Yeah, please.”

He closes the gap with his forehead to yours, tilting his head enough that his nose slots beside yours as he kisses you. You expected a peck, something nervous, but that’s impossible when there’s a decade of want behind it. He’s firm and certain as his hands finally take grateful handfuls of your hips, and your mouth burns as you kiss him back. He worries he’s being too handsy, especially after last night, but when you feel him retreating you take his larger hands in yours and keep them there.

This morning, as his tongue moves past yours, Eddie tastes like spearmint, coffee and tobacco. You miss the taste as soon as his lips paint tender kisses at the corner of your mouth and over the hill of your jaw, but you keen at the sensation anyway, arching into him.

“This okay?” he asks in a pant, pulling back and hiding a smile as he hears you whine.

“Yeah,” you breathe. You use shaky fingers to push curls back so you can see his face and, holding him in both hands, kiss the swell of his cheek followed by the other. “Thank you.”

“Stop thanking me,” he says, chuckling.

��What do we do now?” you ask him.

He looks back at you, feeling more whole than ever, and notices the creeping worry lines between your brows. Pushing against your hold, he leans forward and kisses you there. The satisfaction of feeling you relax is enough to keep him going for a thousand years.

“Well,” he whispers, and his breath isn’t too hot like Tom’s. It’s warm and friendly where it blooms over your closed eyes. “Go take care of Steve, probably.”

“Kiss me again?”

He does, wordlessly, softer than before, once on your mouth and another on your forehead. You wind your arms around his back, and with cheek resting on the top of your head, he says those fateful words into your hair: 

“Love you.”

You squeeze without thinking, smiling into his chest.

“Love you too.”

-

[ms-demeanor]

Hi, sorry to bother you, but we spoke a few months ago about Tumblr Support’s response to seizure and eyestrain inducing ads. And while it is good to report that they’ve added a feature to report those ads, I wanted to ask for some advice

I’ve messaged staff no less than ten times about this feature not working. The same ads show up on my dash, over and over again, no matter how many times I report them. I’m up to date with my software, and still I’m put in danger by being on this site, and I can only use mobile as I do not have a desktop

Should I just quit tumblr at this point? Staff really don’t seem to care. I tried my best to give them my patience, but this has been disappointing for months now, and none of it is getting solved regardless of how much people message them. Is there anything we can actually do about it? Nobody outside our sphere is taking notice

Some of this unfortunately just has to do with the way that ads are served. Reporting the ad will get that instance of an ad removed after a certain number of reports, but depending on how that ad is served, you might be seeing the same flashing visual ten times and the ad system considers it a different ad each time (think of it like ads on a bus - you are reporting the ad on bus 249, but not the ad on bus 250 even though they are showing you the same image; sometimes the flashing image will be one campaign - so all on bus 249 - and it won't get served to you again, sometimes the flashing image will be scattered in a dozen different campaigns with different names and metadata perhaps with the explicit purpose of getting past user reports because advertising is a garbage industry full of horrible shitheads). Unfortunately I'm not sure there is anything that can be done beyond reporting the individual ads in terms of getting them removed; online advertising is generally minimally supervised by humans, which is how you end up with things like starvation-bait diet ads getting blasted all over the site with a terrible history of pro-ana networks.

Since you're using tumblr exclusively on mobile, it seems like your two other options are:

Turn off autoplay which should (in theory) stop any video (including ads) from playing in the app unless you allow it. Here's how to do that on iOS and Android.

Use the app exclusively from your mobile browser with an adblock enabled (won't work for iOS, changes the user experience pretty drastically).

There's one possible other option that I am not *recommending* I am simply stating that it is an option to explore: you could look into an adblocker like AdLock that does global video blocking on a mobile OS. The reason I'm not recommending it is that these kinds of adblockers cost money and are not known for being very reliable. It is something to investigate more if you are out of all other options

It seems likely that you've already turned off the autoplay, so that's probably not useful advice. If you haven't tried using tumblr in a mobile browser with ads blocked, that might be worth giving a shot before you give up on the app as a whole.

It's a really shitty situation and I'm sorry you're dealing with it.

[olderthannetfic]

This is partly a vent and partly hoping someone reading this can offer some advice or at least insight into wtf the person/people doing this are hoping to accomplish.

Over the past few months, someone(s) has been sending purity policing “concerned” anon asks to people in my fandom, mostly about supposed untagged triggering content. Which sounds like standard anti bullshit at first glance, but there are some really weird aspects to this situation, and I don’t know what to make of it.

First, in both of the cases I’ve seen, the “untagged” content Concerned Anon complained about was comprehensively tagged, way beyond fandom norms. Concerned Anon is complaining about something that isn’t even true.

Second, the people who received these asks seem to me like really weird targets for anon harassment. From what I’ve seen, they’re both really nice people. Not in the Cult of Nice way, but in the welcoming to newcomers, supporting all shippers even the people who ship things they’re not into, willing to chat about even the most wild theory or headcanon you might have without judgment kind of nice. Good stewards of fandom, I guess is what I’m trying to say. So I don’t get why anyone would want to target them. Especially since one of them wasn’t even being harassed about their own work, but about a fic someone else wrote that they happen to like!

Third, if the source material for this fandom were a fic on AO3, it would easily meet the threshold for all archive warnings. This isn’t about Stephen King fandom, but it’s got that level of things antis lose their shit over. Why is Concerned Anon even in this fandom? Why are they ~*so concerned*~ over fic when canon is like that?

Since the first Concerned Anon ask, I’ve noticed a sharp drop-off not just in ~*problematic*~ fic, but in fic in the fandom in general. I know fandom engagement comes and goes and there could be a lot of reasons for that unrelated to Concerned Anon. I can even think of a couple specific reasons it would be happening in this fandom. But the timing rubs me the wrong way, especially since it doesn’t seem like there’s as much a of a drop-off in general fandom activity, and I’m worried the latest set of Concerned Anon asks will have an even more chilling effect on fic writers.

I hate that this is happening. I hate that people who are just out here making fandom fun are being targeted. I hate that it might be discouraging people who haven’t been targeted from writing. I hate the possibility that Concerned Anon is out there harassing other people in the fandom who haven’t responded to them or that I just haven’t seen. I hate that, as a complete fandom nobody, I probably have no power to do anything about this. I hate that the person or people behind Concerned Anon probably aren’t even going to have to face up to being this kind of shitty, because it’s all anonymous.

--

People pop up in the inboxes where the owner can get their comments in front of more eyeballs.

Of course they want to poison the blogs of the welcoming fans who get the newbies writing fic.

The way to combat them is for those bigger blogs to either ignore them entirely or to politely but firmly tell them where they can shove it while pointing out that they're a liar.

They're a toxic blight on other people's inspiration, and the "nice" blogs should tell them so. The failure to do so is going to have at least as much of a chilling effect as their shitty comments themselves.

[sonoyoung]

- Soon

bsf!non idol!dokyeom x gn!reader | fluff + friend to lovers | 0.5k | wait - dino “I'll hold you close and tell you not to question us, don't worry”

a/n. erm idk about this one, i thought writing dk would be easy coz love him but im just overthinking haha, i hope you like it i have longer stuff coming, these are just fillers i wanna post :,)

Most days you could feel his gaze, he didn’t always make it obvious, but you knew he was looking, it was needy, begging for some sort of answer from you, an answer you had a hard time formulating. In your head it was clear, the day Seokmin blurted out his feelings under the influence of alcohol, you found it funny that he would admit to it when he knew you were seeing someone at the time, not that it was going well, but the timing really made you smile.

It was those sorts of things that you liked about him, he knew how to brighten up even the brightest days talk less of the dark ones, if he knew a situation was bringing you down, he would try his best to make it better for you. For the longest time you wondered why he did that, why he went out of his way just for you and now you knew, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same.

However, there was still the timing, you had been in an on and off relationship for the past few months and the only thing it brought you was exhaustion, you didn’t even know why you held on to it, but you did and now you didn’t know how to end it completely, so you put Seokmin on hold, hoping he’d understand.

It was an odd situation being in love with your best friend but dating someone who only gave you the comfort of not having to be single and goodnight kisses. You actually hated having to make Seokmin wait because of something so insignificant but the decision was harder to make that just the shitty boyfriend factor.

Seokmin was everything to you, once you’d leave your boyfriend, he’d be all you had left, your past relationships never truly worked out, but it was never that bad because he was there for you so if it didn’t work out this time you would be so lost.

When you would see each other, you would act like nothing changed but his eyes always searched yours for a flicker of hope, he didn’t want to pressure you into it just because you both reciprocated feelings but he didn’t want you to base your decision off an unrealistic fear.

“You know I’ll be fine if you say no, it was kind of selfish of me to put you in such a position” he gives you a small smile shrugging along with the words, you shake your head at him completely dismissing the statement,

“You were drunk and I haven’t decided yet, it’s hard… I don’t want to lose you” his eyes widen hearing those words like losing you is something he couldn’t even fathom, he cups your cheeks in his hands, so you look at him directly in the eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere baby,” you can’t help the smile that creeps up on your face, “I know you’re scared but trust me I won’t be letting go”

“Really? Never?” he smiles so bright his eyes are smiling too, it makes you so warm inside.

“I’ve loved you so long I don’t think it’s ever dying out”

ty for reading feedback is much appreciated

[buckysgrace]

3. The Mysterious Mechanic

Closer to My Heart Masterlist Single Dad! Billy Hargrove x Fem!reader

You can't seem to escape Billy, meanwhile he makes a deal with a friend.

Friday wouldn’t come soon enough. You kept reminding yourself that, gleeful to the fact that you’d also be getting off early. You really needed the hours, but your car desperately needed to be fixed. You were sure you only had a few more days before someone called to get your car removed permanently. 

You crossed your legs as you waited in the front lobby, bouncing your knees as you ensured for the hundredth time that you had left all of the correct instructions with your sub. The same sub that had worked there for years, but still, you didn’t want the schedule to be disrupted for the kids.

You had tried to distract yourself with the book you’d been trying to read through for the past few months. It was more than a struggle. You just couldn’t get into it. Or your thoughts kept wandering. You couldn’t really decide or come to a conclusion, as you caught yourself searching for designs in the seat cushion next to you. 

“Hey uh-,” You felt your eyes widen, your head snap up towards the voice that approached you, “No way. You’re the one with the shitty car?” You exhaled roughly, feeling your body tense and your veins warm at the blonde that approached you. No way. You were unsure of why your luck had been so bad recently. 

“My car is in perfect condition,” You said in defense of yourself, then stalled at the way he snorted, “Almost perfect condition.” You corrected yourself a second later. Your car was anything but that. It was in pretty rough shape, but he didn’t have to rub it in your face. 

“Right,” He said with a laugh, “Uh well your perfect car has a lot more wrong with it than a flat tire.” Billy looked at you amused, blue eyes almost sparkling like he was awaiting your response. 

“Like what?” You asked with a soft hum, trying to keep your tone at bay as you shook your head. He pulled out a piece of paper, but didn’t look at it as he began to list off the many things.

“First of all, when was the last time you changed your oil? Or even had it looked at?” He asked seriously with a shake of his head, “Your wheel alignment is all fucked up and your engine shakes when you turn it on. And you have terrible music taste.” You wanted to believe him, but felt like he was just pulling your leg. And your music taste was fine. 

“Real mature,” You said with a sarcastic laugh, feeling the familiar burn beginning to flow through your veins, “I want a second opinion.” You said as you narrowed your eyes at him, watching as he cocked his dark eyebrows towards his forehead. 

“Kind of defeats the purpose of following me to my work.” He stated as he scoffed, making your eyes widen into huge saucers. You couldn’t believe what he was suggesting. That you would follow him? 

“I did not!” You protested as you pointed a finger towards him roughly, “You’re the one that followed me!” You told him shrilly, losing your composure completely. He tilted his head, pressing his lips together as if he did not remember. 

“I did?” He teased, his lips pulling into a smirk as you felt your pulse quicken. You had never had someone make you so angry before. You couldn’t understand the hold that he had on you. 

“You’re infuriating.” You told him seriously, trying to resist the urge to reach out and jab him with your finger. He was more than infuriating. He was annoying. A pain. You hoped he stepped on all of Theo’s legos tonight. 

“I’ve heard worse,” He said dryly, “So you just want the tired fixed or all of the above?” He asked dryly, looking bored as he rested his hip against the small desk. You looked for only a brief second. 

“Is anything really wrong with my car, or are you just trying to make me pay more?” You asked him seriously, raising your brows as you inhaled sharply. You didn’t want to assume the worst, but you were also clueless when it came to cars. 

“No offense,” He said as he drifted his eyes back towards yours, “But you work two jobs and drive a vehicle that sounds like it’s going to explode. You’re not the one I’d try to take money from.” You winced, a little hurt but knowing that it was all true. Your hands shook regardless. You felt like screaming. 

“Well-,” You breathed in deeply, pressing your tongue against your teeth as his words washed over you, “I suppose that’s fair.” You admitted as you rubbed your palms against your jeans, willing yourself to stay calm as you thought over your options. 

“But if you really think I’m trying to get… whatever from you,” He started before he gestured over his shoulder, “You can get one of the other guys to check it out.” He shrugged his shoulders, looking like he could care less. You sighed. 

“No,” You responded as you crossed your arms over your chest, “It’s fine. You’re fine. I mean okay. Just fix my car.” You gestured back towards where he came from, a little angry that your car had to be in that bad of shape. You supposed you wouldn’t care if it was anyone else talking to you. 

“Huh,” He grinned from ear to ear as he leaned against the doorway, his elbow high above his head. You stared at his face. Just his face. Definitely not his muscles or smooth, tanned skin, “I could’ve sworn Theo mentioned something about learning when to say please the other day?”

“Please fix my car.” You spoke between gritted teeth, not liking how he was throwing your lessons back in your face. Theo was a three year old. You were a grown adult. You were allowed to pick and choose when you wanted to use please or thank you. Now did not seem like that time. 

“Since you asked so nicely,” He grinned as he pulled a packet of gum from his pocket, “I guess I’ll fix your car.” He watched you, eyes holding onto your gaze roughly as he obnoxiously chewed on his gum. You turned away first, a little intimidated by how long he held eye contact. 

“Thank you,” You quietly simmered in your spot for a moment before you reached forward, snagging a piece of his gum from his package, “I appreciate it.” You replied sweetly, batting your eyelashes as he looked towards you in irritation. One win for you, you’d take it. 

“So I guess I won’t see you tonight.” Billy started as he handed you your keys back, watching the way you quickly snatched them from his grip. For looking so kind and sweet, you certainly had a mouth on you. It made him wonder what else you were hiding, if you were really that innocent. He quickly shook those thoughts away. 

“Sorry but you’ll have to waste someone else’s time.” You grinned tightly, looking like you were seconds away from smacking his hands away. He dropped the keys lightly into your grasp. 

“Ouch,” He mocked as he held his hand over his chest, “That stung.” He said as he shook his head, knowing it was no surprise that you worked with children. That’s all you had up your sleeve was childish insults. 

“You’re unbearable.” You spit out a new word to him, making him chuckle as he waited for you to continue signing your name on the receipt. Despite your differences, he had taken some pity on you. You got a bit of a discount, but he’d never admit to that. 

“I’m surprised that your stick can go up any further.” He told you dryly, enjoying the fire that spread through your eyes. Besides everything that was annoying about you, you were pretty. He couldn’t deny that even if he wanted to. 

“You’re-,” You rounded on him, eyes flashing and eyebrows furrowing like you were ready to give him a piece of your mind. He waited, watching as you took deep breaths and the crease between your eyes slowly softened, “Have a great night.”

He finished up at his usual time, scrubbing his hands clean and changing into a new outfit before he headed towards the daycare. Some days he wished that he had someone to help him out, but others he was glad it was just him and his son. He wasn’t sure that he could handle someone else doting on him. 

“How was it today?” Billy asked as he pulled the car door open, watching the way Theo’s backpack bounced against the back of his legs. He was the smallest in his class, but Billy only thought that made him cuter. He’d grow. 

“Good!” He started as he hopped to the car with him, “But I miss my teachew.” He replied before he sighed dramatically, pouting his lips out as Billy finished strapping him into the carseat. 

“She’s that great?” He asked as he tried to keep his tone relaxed, fighting the urge to be dry and bored. You couldn’t be that incredible. Not with your judgy tone and eyes that always seemed to look down upon him. 

“The bestest.” Okay, Billy couldn’t deny that his statement hurt just a bit. But he quickly reminded himself that Theo was too young to know how big of a nuisance his teacher was. He shouldn’t dislike his teacher either. Billy could play nice for a little bit. 

“What do you want for dinner today?” He asked instead, even though he almost felt too tired to make anything. Some days he just wanted to stop at Mcdonalds. That seemed like the best choice with how tired he was, but he wouldn’t do it. Not today at least. 

“Hm,” Theo drew out dramatically, twisting his ankles around as he thought dramatically, “Tacos!” He grinned happily before he began to recount everything that had happened today, starting from the second Billy had left this morning. 

Their apartment was nothing special, a little small but plenty spacious for the two of them. They both had their own rooms, but Theo still kept his toys and things littered about wherever he could. 

“If you want to make yourself useful,” Billy started as he glanced towards his shorter friend, who had been waiting when they arrived, “You could set the table, since you’re freeloading anyways.” He mumbled, feeling like he should be used to him hanging about. 

“I am not a freeloader,” Tommy replied, fake hurt as he placed his hand over his chest, “Okay maybe I am a bit.” He shrugged as he looked over at Theo, watching as he began to color a brand new picture. 

“Go set the table.” He grumbled as he shoved the plates at his chest. The least he could do was help out in some way.

“I’m just saying-,” He started again as he grabbed silverware from the drawer, “You obviously feel something for this girl.” Tommy continued on as he began to set the small round table, making Billy scoff in disbelief. 

“Hatred.” Deep, seething resentment. That was all he felt for you. You’d had no issue laying into him since the first day you’d interacted. As if he didn’t know how to take care of his own son. 

“Why?” Tommy asked curiously, eyebrows raised as Billy felt himself take a deep breath. Even the mention of you made his blood boil, his pulse quicken. 

“Why do you care?” He asked seriously, unsure of why this had become Tommy’s business. You two had spent the past three years tiptoeing around one another. There was nothing hidden beneath that. 

“Because you’re an ass,” Tommy said with a nod of his head, “And you need to get laid.” He replied as he looked Billy up and down, wrinkling his nose up in disgust. Billy rolled his eyes. It had been a while, but he had more important things to deal with than sex. And you were not on his rader.

“What dat?” Theo appeared, standing in the doorway with big curious eyes. Billy paused for a moment, trying to figure out how to move the conversation in another direction. Theo was too smart, too curious. He demanded to know everything. 

“I thought you were playing with your trucks.” He stated as he rubbed his fingers through Theo’s curly, blonde hair. The toddler huffed before he fixed it. 

“What laid mean?” He asked again, tilting his head as he looked up at his father. Billy pressed his lips together, not at all upset with him wanting to know answers. He just didn’t need to know this. 

“None of your concern,” He chuckled as he kissed the top of his head, “Did you put your toys away?” He asked seriously, watching as Theo paused for a second. 

“Uh…”

“Go put them away,” He hummed as he gave his shoulders a little tap, “Dinner will be done soon.” He replied, trying to get him to get busy. He stalled though, glancing at where Tommy kept flipping the plates back and forth. 

“Tommy?” He asked sweetly instead, swaying back and forth on his little feet as he grinned towards him. Tommy laughed as he rested his hand on his hip, looking like he was close to telling him what he meant. 

“No, no,” Billy laughed as he picked Theo up, swaying him softly to earn a giggle from him, “You can’t run to Tommy just because I didn’t tell you an answer.” He told him as he pecked his cheek repeatedly, making the little toddler kick his feet back and forth. 

“Teachew says it good to ask.” Theo said between giggles, smiling brightly as he held onto Billy. He did his best not to scoff, figuring that you would encourage something like that. Okay, it wasn’t bad. But you said it, so it was annoying. 

“Of course she does.” He grumbled as he sat Theo back down again, smiling as he locked his arms around his leg. He gave Billy a tight squeeze, then grunted as he tried to pick him up. 

“What if your dad dated her?” Tommy asked casually, brown eyes pointed down towards the table so he couldn’t be met with Billy’s glare. 

“Tommy!” He shouted in disbelief, shaking his head at Tommy’s suggestion. It was insane to begin with, but he didn’t want Theo to get his hopes up either. Tommy was certainly crossing a line. 

“Daddy,” Theo gasped, his eyes wide in excitement as he pulled on Billy’s jeans, “You wike my teachew?” He grinned from ear to ear, joy wrinkling across his features as Billy felt his pulse thump a little harder against his bones. 

“Not like that,” He said quickly, feeling bad at the way his son’s expression fell, “She’s kind of weird.” He teased, trying to play off the conversation. He shot his friend another glare, but he quickly ignored it. 

“No nice.” Theo pouted his lips out, reminding Billy as he dragged his feet over to the table. He struggled for a moment, but managed to pull himself up into one of the big chairs. 

“I mean she acts weird,” He clarified a second later, “She’s dorky.” He said a second later, trying to make it not sound mean. He didn’t want Theo to think badly of you, not that he would. He seemed fascinated with you. 

“She hilarious.” He replied, showing off the new word he must’ve learned as he held his chin high. Billy grumbled and shook his head, wondering why they had to have a conversation about this in the first place. He disliked seeing you and talking about you was no better. 

“See,” Tommy grinned from ear to ear as he pulled Theo onto his lap, “He agrees. You should go out with her.” He rubbed his cheek against Theo’s, earning another giggle from him as his blue eyes sparkled to life once again. 

“I’m not going out with her.” Billy dismissed with a shake of his hand. He wouldn’t be caught dead seeing you like that. He was sure that you probably carried glitter and crayons around in your purse. 

“With someone,” He tried again with the same glint in his eyes, “A bind date. You always liked those.” Tommy said with a shrug of his shoulders, lightly moving Theo back and forth to keep him laughing. 

“When I was dating,” Billy told him seriously, “Which I’m not. I’ve got too much on my plate.” He shook his head as he turned back to the stove, knowing that he hadn’t been on a date since Annie had passed. Sure, he sometimes flirted but it never went further than that. He just wasn’t ready yet. And between work and caring for Theo, he had no time. 

“Oh you’re no fun,” Tommy scoffed with a roll of his eyes, “Just one date with someone I know. It’ll be fun.” He suggested as Billy shut the burners off, allowing the food to cool down before Theo started to eat. 

“You’re setting me up.” Billy told him seriously, figuring that he knew what would happen. That someone would be you. He had a gut feeling. He wasn’t falling for it. 

“How?” He asked seriously, “I’m not going to show up to Theo’s school to ask her out for you. And by the sounds of it, she wouldn’t go out with you either.” He said honestly, making Billy nod his head in agreement. There was no way that Tommy actually knew you like that. It wouldn’t be you. But he still wasn’t sure.

“Because she doesn’t have any taste.” He mumbled as he thought about the ridiculous outfit you had on earlier. He was sure that the other night had been the first time that he had seen you in real mature clothes. You weren’t dressed like an oversized toddler then. The thought made his throat dry suddenly. 

“So you’ll do it?” Tommy asked seriously, “C’mon. What’s the worst that could happen?” He pouted his lips out, whining as Theo faced him. He paused for a second before he did the same thing, fluttering his eyelashes and holding his hands up to his chin. Damn it. 

“You swear you won’t find her?” Billy pointed a finger at him sternly, hoping that Tommy knew that if he did such a thing he’d get punched. 

“Scouts honor.”

“You’ll watch Theo?” He asked softer, worried about what Theo would do. They had never spent more than a night apart. Billy’s whole life revolved around him. He was sure even if he went on this date, the whole time he’d be thinking about him. 

“This adorable guy?” Tommy pinched at his cheeks, earning a giggle from the little boy, “Of course.” He smiled brightly as Theo swatted his hands away, his cheeks turning a bright pink. 

“One date.” He held his finger up, feeling like a stone had just landed in his gut. He hadn’t been on one in so long. He wasn’t sure he knew how to do it anymore.

“You’ll be fine, daddy!” Theo grinned as he waddled over, throwing his arms out dramatically as Billy bent to lift him into the air. He squealed at the motions, features wrinkled up in delight as he brought him against his hip.

“You think so?” He hummed out, feeling a little bittersweet suddenly. He wished that he could’ve met his mother. He would’ve loved her. And she would’ve been so proud of how he turned out. 

“Mhm,” He giggled as he played with the necklace that Billy was wearing, “You get me a mama?” Billy still felt a little lost when he was asked that question. It hadn’t been the first time Theo had asked him and he was certain it wouldn’t be the last time either. 

“Uh,” He stalled but continued to bounce him softly, still not sure how to answer that question. His relationship with Annie had been brief, but hopeful promises were made when they found out she was pregnant. And then they weren’t. He just wasn’t sure if he felt right replacing the woman who had died bringing their son into the world, “You have a mama, remember?”

“Yeah,” He replied, his face falling as he held onto him. He was too young to understand yet, still too little to grasp the truth of it all, “I guess.” He shrugged his shoulders before he dropped his head to Billy’s shoulder, sighing deeply. Billy knew that it was hard for him to understand why some kids got a warm mother’s hug and all Theo knew was a gravestone.

“But we can have tacos tonight,” Billy hummed softly as he rocked him back and forth, giving him a little squeeze, “Then maybe when you stay with Tommy he’ll let you pick out a few movies?” He suggested, feeling like that was the least he could do for getting them in this difficult conversation.

“Oh yeah,” Tommy nodded along eagerly, “And as much candy as you want.” He added a second later, causing the three year old to cheer in excitement. Billy laughed as he held onto him, deciding that Tommy could deal with the sugar high on his own. 

Tags: @cassandracorvo @marshmallowgem @shes-an-odd-bird @stormy-stardust

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for calling my friend out?

i (19F) have a friend V(19F). she seemed like an okay friend at first but has gotten on my nerves recently due to her acting like the “leader” of our group of friends. she tells us what we’re doing, where we’re going, and how to spend our money (we have a pool for alcohol that we share and even if it’s someone’s turn to pick what we get that weekend she still has final say). she guides conversations so they end up on her. she usually does this by describing her trauma until the conversation ends up with people feeling bad for her. i’m afraid of confrontation so i usually let this happen because, after speaking with my other friends most of them disagree that it’s a problem.

however, one thing has been really bothering me recently. she’s been talking about how poor her family is, even getting to the point of shaming me for being richer than her (my parents are IT consultants). however her family is paying all of her (very expensive) tuition and sends her $400 2x a month. a few months ago we were showing our neighborhoods and houses on street view, i pulled mine up and she told me “wow i knew you were bougie, but not THIS bougie”. she then pulled up her house, a one story house with peeling paint in a bad neighborhood. i thought nothing of it until she invited the group of friends to a party over spring break. she put her address in the text and i decided to look it up. it was a completely different house than the one she showed me originally. after conforming it was her households’ not a different family members, i looked it up on zillow. it is worth 200k more than mine and has a pool, hot tub, and is part of an HOA.

the next time the group hung out there was this girl i had a crush on there, V was trying to trauma bond with her by asking her about her home life (my crush is trans from a conservative family) (also V has gotten with some of my past crushes before, doesn’t matter to me because if they like her they wouldn’t have liked me anyway), V starts talking about how her family needs EBT to eat. i immediately cut her off and say, “i don’t think your family needs it if they send you $800 a month and have a $2k HOA fee.” she went quiet and i just continued. “i think it’s a little shitty that you’re telling people who are here on scholarship that you’re broke and then lying about where you live to seem like you’re worse off then you actually are.” she immediately left after that. the next morning i get a text from one of my friends and future roommates (me, them, and V are leasing next semester) that i embarrassed V and should have just confronted her in private. i asked if they care if V was lying and they tell me “not that much, she’s clearly acting out for a different reason. you just made it tense between all of us because she doesn’t want the rest of the group hanging out with you anymore”.

it’s been two weeks since this happened and i’ve only had contact with some of the people in the group. V confessed to lying about the wealth and finally said what her parents do for a living, her mom is a nurse and her dad is an injury lawyer (which also means she was lying about being a first generation college student, she brought that up after i told her that im getting scholarship money because my parents are immigrants)). however, she still doesnt want anyone to hang out with me because i embarrassed her in front of someone she had feelings for (i told her that i had a crush on this girl about a month before this went down). i want my friends back and i feel like i could’ve handled this better AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[lailawinchesterr]

silence in the city (two)

part i

pairing; sam x reader/ dean x reader summary: you cook for the two boys and start to feel like you’re fitting in again. tags; mention of rape, degradation, suggestive content, soulles sam.

tw: reference to the night of the rape but not detailed just him calling her names but guys please be mindful of what you consume, if this might trigger you in any way or if you’re not comfortable with this topic please please don’t read

"Sam," I moan against his hair, sliding my fingers through it. He's kissing my neck, then higher and higher, behind my ear, my face, my lips. He's getting so close to me. And I can't think straight when he's this close because all I can remember is him pounding into me that night—

"Hey," his voice forces me back to where we are. His room. The bunker. His bed. His his his. How do I even fit here, with the Winchesters? “Hey, what happened? Where'd you go?"

"I— I don't know, what happened?" I echo the question, mostly asking what I did when he's decided on shaking me softly out of it.

"You were with me. I was kissing you but you were shaking and... fuck, are you okay? You really scared me. I think you were trying to tell me to stop but you just—" He's stepped back now, sitting on the bed a few inches away, he's still towering over me but it doesn't bother me as much as it did when he was kissing me, he's just really scared.

"I'm sorry," I mumble, trying to get up and off the bed. "Sorry, just thought about something and I couldn't stop."

"Yeah? Was it something bad?" He lets me leave his bed but stares at me in a way that makes me think he won't be so generous about me leaving the room.

"No, just something. I think I'll— yeah, you guys are probably hungry, I'll go make dinner." I don't move until I see him nod, but while walking out I don't miss the way his whole body deflates and his hands scrubbing down his face. 

My whole chest hurts and I want to cry again for the tenth time today but I just can’t help it. I’ve been trying so hard with Sam and I know he sees that, I know he hears me cry at night when we’ve went a little too far or how I start shaking whenever we’re alone and he runs a hand up my body. I’m not scared of him, I know he wouldn’t do anything like that, I trust him, but just— i don’t want to, just can’t do anything with him when all I imagine is that fucking monster pounding into me, calling me a slut, telling me to take it.

“Hey, angel,” I perk up at the sound of nickname coming from Dean. I’m still looking through the cabinets for any ideas for dinner so I entertain him, nodding. “What’re you cookin’?” That Texan accent.

“Oh, just pasta probably. I’m not sure, any requests?” He drums his fingers onto the table, seemingly in deep thought, “Not pie, Dean.”

“Dick,” He rolls his eyes but I let out a huff at his playfulness, my tone similar to his.

“Slut,” I retort back quickly, waiting for him to actually give me suggestions. Though it looks like pie was his only running thought (maybe something with bacon too) and I decide to pick out a bunch of random spices, hopefully the idea will come to me as I make it. 

I am glad Dean is with me in the kitchen though. For all the shitty me and Sam have been going through this past month, me and Dean have gotten closer, especially since his heartfelt declaration in this very room. 

Albeit, I haven’t seen soft Dean since then, but I got enough to last me a lifetime. “What about something from your home? I can try to help too.”

My eyes widen. “You want a proper Egyptian meal? Are you serious?” It makes me giddy more than I’d like to admit cause fuck that’s kinda the most adorable thing anyone has ever asked of me. He wants me to make him something from my culture? That’s… 

“Yeah, ‘course. Don’t know why we never had Egyptian before, but let’s do it. What’s on the menu today?” He says casually but my cheek’s all pink and my mouth hurts from grinning and I bet I’m even beaming a bit but it’s all expertly concealed as I give him my back to look through the fridge.

“Yeah, we can do that. How about… do you guys have cabbage?”

“I’m not sure. Sam probably—” 

“There, found it!” I answer myself quickly, looking at the bottom drawer. I take it out, figuring it’s big enough for maybe all three of us, could even have some left overs. “I can get started on the mahshy and leave it to cook while I go get some stuff from the market, how’s that? Y’all don’t mind a few hours before dinner, right?”

“The what?”

“Mahshy, honestly our most popular dish. Or maybe waraa enab, either way, you might like them. I don’t know if you’ve ever tasted anything like them but… I can make pizza too, incase it isn’t something you end up enjoying.”

“I’m sure it’ll be good, sweetheart.” I nod then run to the drawers, as if he’ll change his mind, to start getting supplies. 

Two hours later I’ve finished making the rice and stuffing it into the cabbage then rolling them, letting Dean attempt a couple, and put it all on the stove to cook. “Okay, I wanna try and make pigeons, too, for protein.”

“I’m sorry— you what?” 

I keep scrubbing my hands clean at the sink, biting my lip between my bottom teeth. I often forget what’s common and what’s uncommon here in America, mostly ‘cause I’ve only been here a decade, but in my home two. 

“Yeah, I mean, you don’t have to, I don’t know— what kind of bird do you eat? It’s just usually made with pigeon or hamam in Arabic and I guess I figured if we’re… you know, but we can do…” The words are blurting out my mouth and I see Dean holding in a laugh. I deflate a little and he chuckles, walking towards me. 

“Sweetheart, whatever you make will be perfect. I didn’t know you were stressing about this. You know we love your cooking.”

“Yeah but this is different, you’ve never had this before and obviously I won’t be offended if you guys don’t like it— that goes without saying,” and I check Dean’s expression through my eyelashes so there’s hopefully no doubt about that, “but I wanna make it good for you.” I’m assuming the you is heavy on him because he takes a deeper breath but then shakes his head, moving his hand from his side to my back.

“Let’s go to the market. Wanna get Sammy?” And then, a beat, “Or you guys could go and I can watch the food here?”

“No, no. He’s probably busy, we should go. Surprise him ‘n all.” Dean looks down at me, he looks like he’s going to reject the idea, plus I’m about to apologize for suggesting it, but then I feel him nudging me forward with a smile and we walk to the garage.

We’re going to the market for some food.

Me and Dean.

K.

It’s uncharacteristic of Sam to both be dry and not grammatically accurate while texting and it makes my chest constrict before I shut the phone off and stare out the window. I already know tears are running down my cheek but I don’t want to acknowledge it at the moment. God, I have so so much to just cry about, it’s all since I’ve stayed with these Winchesters. I love them, and I love Cas, and Charlie, and Jody obviously but that doesn’t take away from all the pain they’ve caused me.

Sam (soulless) fucked me while I kept screaming at him to stop. Practically raped me. Dean didn’t speak to me for years, not even after what Sam did, though I’m not sure how much of that he actually knows. Hunters and supernatural creatures alike have tried to smite me so many times to get the Winchesters that I’ve lost count. I’ve been used as bait too many times and almost died even more. I’ve watched these two men die over and over and over again. 

It never ends, even when Sam got his soul back; leviathans got thrown back to purgatory; Dean came back from purgatory; Sam went through the trials; Angels falling then Dean got rid of the mark; then the darkness. It just doesn’t end, and I have been with Sam through it all. Saw him grieve Dean so much I started to miss his brother that I’ve talked to a handful of times. I let him go through the trials after begging him not to, only for him to give them up when Dean asked him to. 

I don’t think the boys understand what that night did to me. We were all there, staring at the king of hell gain some ounce of humanity and Sam losing all of his while I sobbed into my knees. My voice had grown hoarse with my screams at Sam at that point. Then Dean came in. We all stilled. We all knew what would come next. We all held our breath. Then;

“Don’t you dare think that there is anything, past or present, that I would put in-front of you. It has never been like that. I need you to see that. I’m begging you.”

“I— how do I stop?”

What I had tried to do for months Dean had done with three words, and of course, yeah, they’re blood and all that, but the look in their eyes? I wasn’t sure whether he loved Dean as innocently as he claims he does.

“Angel?” My head whips, giving me a damn migraine, and I face the older brother. 

Dean had never done anything particularly nasty to me. I only started living in the bunker this year so we’ve been housemates for a little over three months, and we started speaking two months into it so I’ve decided he’s heaps better than his brother at the moment. 

“Angel, you with me?” I nod then remember he’s looking at the road, though I’m sure he can see me.

“Yeah, Dee, with you?”

“Dee?”

“Nickname. Like ‘angel’.” He seems to accept it. I don’t though, so I ask the question that’s been on the top of my tongue since we’d spoken a month ago, “Why’d you call me that, by the way? Why ‘angel’?”

“‘Cause.” I hope he doesn’t think I’m letting him keep the answer that brief. Thankfully he keeps going, “You saved Sam. Saved him from himself too many times. Kinda like his guardian angel.”

Damn it. Even the one thing I thought was mine, totally and utterly related to me, had something to do with my boyfriend. 

“— and, sweetheart, you saved me too.” That catches my attention and just as I’m about to ask, he parks in front of the mall’s double doors. 

“Get inside, I’ll park Baby and come in.” I zip my mouth, though it takes everything in me, 

I get out of the car and into the market quietly. That’s how me and Dean finish our shopping. That’s also how we get into the house (though not without our little squabble of “I’m a hunter Dean, I can handle a few bags!”  “You’re also cooking enough as is, stop being stubborn and get inside. I’ll bring the bags.”)

I told him he should go check on his brother while I make the pigeon, that takes much less time than the mahshy. Dean doesn’t come back, but an hour later everything is ready to serve so I text him to get Sammy and come down. 

I may or may have not brought a frozen pizza at the market and put it in the oven incase they don’t enjoy the meal— it just makes me feel more at ease. I’ve never been so nervous in my life, not even when me and Sam had sex the first time. Or when I said yes to our first date. Or when I came to America alone.

But here I am, panicking out of my boots because Sam and Dean Winchester are gonna taste Egyptian food by my hand for the first time. “Angel, you’re shaking,” I look at Sam first and he’s smiling at me but it’s clear he’s not happy. I’m not sure about which part.

It’s already close to ten and I left our room in a hurry at six so I can only think of the contemplation he’d done. About me and us and our sex life and everything.

“Want any help, honey?” I let a smile spread over my face as I nod once at Sam. Yeah, okay, maybe I’m overreacting. 

He goes to grab a plate but I shake my head and point to the ten inch tray we have for when we’re serving guests. He furrows his eye brows but does at told and I tell him to put it on the counter where we’re eating. He does so and I grab the pot of mahshy then flip it upside down on the tray. Both men seem to jump at my sudden movement but quickly relax when they see it was not an accident and that I have it under control. 

When I flip the pot, we all stare at the excessive smoke from the dinner and I smile. I almost want to snap a picture and send it to my mother. She’d be proud. If we still talked. 

I shake the thought out of my head and we decorate with some parsley then salt. Me and Sam grab more plates and I serve the fried pigeon and traditional salad. 

“Woah, Angel. This looks fuckin’ incredible.”

“Yeah, what is that?” Sam agrees and I serve some on both their plates (though my mother would scold me for that one ‘we always eat from the pot’ but I don’t think they’re ready for that much culture yet). 

“Oh, uh,” I see both men’s focus on me and the food they’re trying, “Mahshy is just cabbage with rice, I guess. Broth too, but I used mostly water since y’all don’t have that here— but it should be just as good.” 

Dean’s the first to stop blowing on his food like a fucking girl and actually put the finger into his mouth. He chews and chews and then—

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” My heart stops, “This is… oh my god.” He starts shoving more onto his fork from the top of the steaming pile so it’s the least hot.

“Really? You’re not fucking with me?” I ask, like a hopeful child on Christmas Eve, I bet.

“Angel, this is amazing.” I smile so wide I’m sure it could stretch to next Monday. I face Sam and he’s… he’s eating. 

Sam is actually fucking eating my food. Not that he’s ever not eaten my food, but he asks about the ingredients first, frickin’ diet he’s on or something and tries it first, but no trying today. Sam goes right in. 

“You said—” Dean says through a mouthful and it pulls a surprised laugh out of me so he swallow before resuming, “Said something ‘bout protein?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I start to give each of them a bird from the four on the table. It’s stuffed with a dried wheat mix I made. Honestly, I had to make literally everything on the table. America doesn’t provide the right spice mix, or sauce, or even wheat mix, for me have any help. And I wanted it to be perfect. 

“What is that?” Sam asks a second after he’s cut his one open. 

“Dried wheat mix.” And then I remember the fucking diet he was just telling me about— “Sammy, ‘m so sorry, I forgot about—”

It’s evident he doesn’t mind because he tried it with no hesitation then lets out soemthing between a growl and moan that I thought was reserved for the bedroom but was apperantly not off limits to my cooking too.

“This is absolutely fuckin’ delicious, sweetheart. How’d you… wow.” And I don’t think he’s actually asking anything, he’s just praising me. 

I feel a blush on my cheek from both the extremely positive feedback and small praises both men have thrown my way. I quickly get up to get them beers from the fridge but both men groan so i quickly look back to them.

“Where’re you goin’? You didn’t even try the food.”

“Getting your beers.” I smile and run over to get them then back. 

“What about you?” It’s no secret I don’t drink so I shrug and pour some of Sam’s pineapple juice/smoothie mix thing into my cup. 

I touch around some of my food, but I’m not entirely sure I made enough for both men after seeing them eat like they are so I want to keep as much as I can for both of them. I don’t think they notice because they go in for seconds— then Dean for thirds and the pot is almost empty when they both decide they’re full and there’s only one pigeon left, the one on my plate.

“Y’all like?” They both look offended and I laugh, “I’m so glad you actually enjoyed it. Can’t believe you guys enjoy Egyptian food like this.”

“Yeah? You made it so damn well, too.” I can hear the satisfied tone my boyfriend gave and I smile. “Shit! We should’ve asked what you do before you eat. Tradition in Egypt and all that. We could’ve really made you feel at home.” 

Dean doesn’t seem to care what Sam’s saying though because he’s leaning back in his chair, phone in one hand as he lazily drinks his beer. 

“Actually, it’s after we eat.” Sam smiles, urging me to go on, “but it’s religious, not traditional. So I guess it is traditional but just not—”

“What is it?”

“Translated in English it’s; Praise be to the Lord for blessing us with the food we’re eating and for our drinking with no power or will required from us… I think. It’s usually in Arabic.”

Sam nudged Dean’s foot under the table and I let out a giggle as they both repeat why I said and then I kiss Sam’s cheek quickly before going to get cleaned up so I can come clean after. I am still a bit hungry, though, so I might go for some pizza tonight.

+

“Hey, baby.” I smile and Sam dips his side of the bed as he climbs in I move closer to him, nudging my head into his chest.

“Hi, Sammy.” He strokes my hair, long fingers making me moan as I put my phone down and melt into him. “Missed you.”

“‘Missed you so much more.” He kisses my head and i drift to sleep in his arm. Feeling safe for the first time in a very very long time.

it’s so fluffy and idk why but I’m Egyptian so kinda really wanted to write this but also is she liking Sam or dean???🤭 we never know

we might next chapter tho.

[drdemonprince]

Can we really expand our window of tolerance as autistic people? I’ve been working on that kind of thing for so long and I can’t tell if I’ve made any genuine progress or if I’ve just unconsciously doubled down on masking :(

We can! But our expanded distress tolerance can't come out of nowhere. Something has to give. So for example, for me, I have way fewer sensory issues these days than I used to have, by a wide margin, and I have significantly less social anxiety and don't need much social recharge time on the level that I used to. I have more distress tolerance for sensory input and for social stressors now than I ever have before -- but this has required lifestyle changes and unmasking in order to get there. Let me break down both these improvements and how they happened:

Even as recently as a year ago, I would have terrible sensory meltdowns on a regular basis. But I haven't had a single sensory meltdown in months, maybe not even a single one for the entirety of 2023 so far? And that's because I have a) cut out caffeine, dramatically reducing my physiological stress levels, b) cut back on some workplace stress by reducing my commitments, c) stopped taking on additional projects outside of work that I didn't want to do and that only caused me stress (workshops and talks), and d) began working from home far more consistently, and made myself a wfh office that is more comfortable.

Now I operate from a really solid base of sensory comfort most days and I'm not overloaded with information or overwhelmed with obligations. This means I am far more tolerant of screaming people on the bus, the upstairs toddler slamming her feet on the floor, ambulances blaring by, noisy concerts, people bumping into me at the bar, etc.

I also am, for the first time in my life, clear-headed enough to recognize when I am starting to experience sensory distress, and can intentionally put on sunglasses or pop in ear plugs or remove myself from an upsetting situation more quickly. I had to experience what being relaxed and not overstimulated felt like, and get accustomed to living that way, in order to recognize subtler signs that I was feeling shitty and take steps to address those small annoyances before they exploded. I can handle a lot "more" in an intentional way now because I built my life to allow "less." My overall distress tolerance has still expanded -- but it's because I stopped masking and began attending to my sensory and stress regulation needs.

For the social piece, my distress tolerance has also gone up due to unmasking. If I was still motivated by passing as NT or being socially acceptable all the time, I'd be so overwhelmed being around people and worn down by every interaction. I also wouldnt be able to advocate for myself. But in the past few years I've become more and more openly weird and outspoken in my needs and true feelings, and I've recognized that the right people actually love me more when I do so and show up for me, and so being honest or even difficult to deal with is not really a threat.

This means I just don't experience much distress being honest or difficult to deal with anymore. I really can tolerate the discomfort of telling someone they're wrong or that I'm hurt without freaking out about being hurt or abandoned, because I've had a lot of good experiences with it and because I enjoy being unmasked so deeply that I just can't put my personality back in a bottle.

Masking lowers distress tolerance because it frays your nerves with stress and wears you out and bars you from ever getting to attend to and regulate your discomfort when there are signs of it happening. In order to increase your distress tolerance, you actually have to learn to better honor your discomfort early, and preventatively, so that you don't bubble over into a meltdown after days or weeks of ignoring your needs.

I think some people think distress tolerance is about becoming more tough, but it's quite the opposite. We become more resilient by getting better at recognizing and attending to our hurts.

[wherenymphsroam]

52 :3

And can I also kiss you?? 😭

52: “Can I kiss you?”

prompt game :^)

⟡ cw: mentions of withdrawals, struggles with alcoholism, depression, specifically soggy wet cat vendetta leon but can be read with damnation leon in mind :3

⟡ a/n: YES we are smooching, i am kissin u on the mouf rn 🤍

“Can I kiss you?”

What the hell was he saying.

One minute, he’s trembling over a plate of eggs and pancakes back at the hotel, and now he’s barely holding himself back from slumping against your shoulder like an old dog. You had insisted on dragging his miserable ass out of there, told him to get his shit together. That you were going for a ride, and he should hang on.

(Of course he was too stubborn to let you drive, no matter the fact that he had already put down half a bottle this morning.)

So despite his better judgement, he allowed you pull him away from those four walls that were his hotel room, all under the promise that it’d still be there when he got back.

Sure, he didn’t want to leave. If his hangover had anything to say about it, he’d be tucked back under the covers of that shitty, scratchy duvet in the fetal position. His head was pounding. But sat here on this stoop tucked away into the mountains, overlooking the small town he had sought out to lick his wounds within, the cool breeze sweeps away some of the tension in his facial features. The fresh air has coaxed that stress out of his shoulders, loosened him up in a way alcohol hadn’t managed to in years.

But maybe it was you.

You, tucked against his side, thumbing slow circles into the back of his palm. The scent of your shampoo drifting through the breeze that passes his nose that has his heart rate slowing. Honestly, he didn’t want to pull this apart. Whether it was the fresh air or you by his side that had him relaxing for the first time in months (years?), it didn’t matter. Because he asked a stupid question, and he doesn’t really feel like taking it back.

“Leon, you’re drunk,” you scoff, shaking your head. As if kissing your superior was such a far fetched idea. Or maybe you just didn’t want to kiss him. He couldn’t blame you, he’s not sure he even bothered to pack a toothbrush when he sought out a direct flight to Colorado.

“I’m the most sober I’ve been in weeks, right now.”

In his defense, he was telling the truth. After arriving at that run down mug, he had made it his mission to slug back as much as he could before he had to leave. Because he knew this was coming — whether in the form of a text message detailing his next deployment, or with the arrival of military personnel — and he had stuck it to himself to ignore it for as long as possible. Started digging that hole of sweet silence into his subconscious the second he got his room key.

And yet…. Here he was. Sobered up and wanting. Forced to face the sad reality that he was lonely, damn it.

Alright, universe, you win. He’ll admit it. Why else would you be playing with his head like this? Those eyes, deep as the ocean, bright as the stars. Pretty lips that fill out so delicately, cheeks that look softer than anything he’s felt in months. You were the embodiment of something a man like him didn’t deserve, and no withdrawal could create the guttural rawness of the wound this reality inflicted on him.

You weren’t a daydream, and you weren’t an illusion. You were tangible, distantly so. And after having been dragged back down to earth, he needed something stronger than what was in his flask.

Chancing a glance over at him, it’s clear you’re debating with yourself. Your teeth tucking that sweet bottom lip under them, plush in how it swells ever so slightly under the pressure. Lashes fluttering when you search his features. He was definitely in better shape than you had found him this morning, silverware clinking and wobbling in his unsteady grip.

The sight almost made you want to slip them from his hands, cut his food up for him like a doting mother. Maybe guide a few bites past his lips like some guilt ridden caregiver, anything to bring some color back to his cheeks.

But you’d never say that out loud.

“… I believe you,” you hum, gaze shifting back up from the dip of his cupids bow. A shitty cover to ignore how you had just wondered how that scruff over it would feel against your mouth. “Just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Yeah?” He dryly laughs, short and null of any real humor. “Just like how joining this god forsaken organization wasn’t either, right?”

Silence. Thick, drawn out.

Few people knew just how Leon ended up in the DSO, landed himself in such a comfortable place with the higher ups. And fewer knew why he stayed. It’s hard to really respond to that when you’re not part of that statistic.

“I’m sorry,” you find yourself muttering softly, turning away again. Shifting your focus back out to gaze over the town below, the traffic flow of patrons returning home, shops turning off lights.

“Don’t be. I’m being a dick right now.”

Leon forgot how snippy he could be during withdrawals nowadays. Made him feel like an overgrown baby, still stuck in his oral phase. That flask in his pocket might as well have become a pacifier, anything to keep him from spinning off the handle.

“You’re acting like one, yeah. Doesn’t make you one.”

Pausing, Leon glances at you, follows the line of your side profile for a moment. Studies the line of your nose, the slope of your top lip. Down and over the jut of your chin, the retreat of your jaw. He wanted to follow that track with the bridge of his nose, maybe press his lips to the hollow of your throat.

Fuck. Maybe he wasn’t nearly as sober as he thought.

Clearing his throat, he shakes his head, glances out in the general direction you’re looking in. Can’t help how he finds similarities between the slopes of the mountains and your face.

“I’m glad you think so.”

[girlsneedff]

Tetris player!Chosou x f!reader (NSFW!!)

Minors and ageless bios please dni

Mating press, slight Tetris! babble, established relationship, breeding (slightly)

Author’s yap: ok ok so I basically sat and watched this Tetris tournament on TikTok and I got inspired… possibly one of the more unserious things I’ve written, but that’s ok!!

————

Tetris! is boring as shit.

How could someone sit there in front of a rickety old 8-bit, shitty quality game and have fun for hours? It was stupid.

Well, that was before you started dating an 8-time Tetris! champion. Now the game is absolutely amazing- a Heaven sent.

Chosou Kamo’s a man of few words. Even when he finally mustered up the courage to ask you out (you were in the same humanities class), it went like this:

“Hello, we- ………date?” The blush saturated his cheeks as he twiddled his thumbs while remaining eye contact.

Oh, those thumbs.

He’s cute, and you’ve been ogling him a bit (a lot) during class, so of course you took up his offer, regardless of how ill-planned it was.

Next thing you know, you’re at his place- always watching him prep for a tournament he’s competing in. Whether it’s an actual controller or on his pc- he practices for hours- at least 3. His hair is in his usual messy pigtails as he chews the inside of this right cheek.

Next Tetrimino is an O- he moves that to the left-most end of the field. Then it’s a T- he flipped it so it fits nicely into this little slot he had created with some past pieces. He gets an I- his face lights up as he gleefully moves it to the right-most end of the field, sliding it into the perfect position and boom: Tetris!

A line of 4 disappears with this completion, and the game continues, his fingers moving at rapid paces to keep up. His eyes flicker to you, to make sure that you saw his victory, then back to the game.

You must admit, when he first told you he was a multi-time Tetris! winner, you damn near laughed at him. You wouldn’t do it in his face- but you definitely have scoffed thinking about it before.

“Hi- oh yea this is my boyfriend. Oh what does he do? Well he’s a Tetris! Champion!”

Your peers would look at you sideways.

But you couldn’t give a rat’s ass what they think now. You’d scream it from the rooftops actually. He’s made you scream a lot more embarrassing things than that.

You owe Tetris! your sex life. Truly. In your vows, you might give Tetris! a shoutout. Because the way that this man knows how to work his fingers- it’s unnatural. How he works his everything- jeez he’s Heaven sent.

————

“Baby, I need an opponent.”

You sit up to look at your boyfriend. He’s sitting in his gaming chair, still working away at Tetris, while you lie on his bed, scrolling on his phone.

“Why don’t you call up your frien-”

“Play with me.”

You freeze. This was the first time he’s ever brought this up. You’ve been coming over for 4 months now, and never once had he asked you to play with him.

“You know I don’t really know anything about Tetris!, right?”

“I’ll teach you. I just need to practice for tomorrow against somebody. It will help get me in the mood.”

It sure as hell did help him get in a mood. Sitting in his lap, he hands you his other console, makes sure you’re ok, and presses play. His console rests on your lap, while you hold yours up a bit.

…

And he lost.

…

Because how the flying fuck did you two end up on the bed?

Lock down: When a Tetrimino is put into a place where it’s no longer moveable. Kinda like how you are now.

Choso supports himself on your bent thighs with knees damn-near touching your ears as he towers above you, sweaty strands of hair still sticking to his face as he keeps eye contact. There’s no possible way you could escape this- even if you wanted to.

Then, he does his next signature move: Hard Drop. When a player drops a Tetrimino right into Lock Down from its starting position- no alterations.

Well, save for the fact that he had you line him up with your cunt, he’s by the book.

Who knew that Tetris! players would be so good at multitasking? With every stroke, he plays with your clit like he’s moving pieces- this Tetris!-junkie really doesn’t quit. He keeps it at a steady pace, steady force. All the way to left field- down. In the middle- he lets it wait for a little bit before he moves it to the right and down. It’s dizzying.

The way his dick is stretching you, and how his lithe fingers work to bully your clit into submission, you felt like you were levitating.

Then he starts fucking drawing the Tetriminos on your clit. You swear you’re actually in Heaven, the angels singing choruses of Tetris! hymns and praises while perched upon fluffy white cumulus clouds. Your mouth is in a permanent “O” position.

He definitely felt you clench around him- he lets out a breathy moan- louder than the noises he was already making. He has an airy type of grit in his voice every time you have sex- one of the many things that you love about this man.

Chosou leans close to your right ear, deepening the position as he speaks:

“Z, I, L, O, J…”

Before you know it you’re creaming- babbling random nonsense that you definitely don’t remember, but definitely know it was embarrassing. Cumming from him saying letters? How pathetic. But you don’t give a goddamn fuck.

You dig your fingers into your own flesh, since you were propping yourself up properly.

Chosou kisses your cheek and your neck as he continues to fuck you through your high.

He finally succumbs to his own desire, pumping everything that he has inside you with a soft, yet kind of whiny moan.

From that moment onwards, you vowed that you will never disrespect Tetris! again.

[atelierlili]

It's time take you back to the past

to play the shitty games that suck ass.

Some besties wanted a list of Everlark fics recs where Katniss and/or Peeta are blasted to the past/alternate universe to relive the events of the games to fix it, so here we are!

Time Is Never Found Again...Or Is It? (113,000 + words) by blahblahblah1703

Katniss, after talking to Snow in his rose garden, finds herself somehow back in her childhood home. She has seven months until she enters the arena for the 74th annual Hunger Games, along with the love of her life, who when she last saw him, was still struggling not to kill her, just perfect.

The pre-game everlark that happens here is 🤌. This is part one of a larger series. The sequel (which is wonderful as well) can be found here. This is the series that got me into this rabbit hole.

Afterburn ( 104,000+ words) by BlueMaple

Katniss Everdeen-Mellark goes to the woods surrounding New Appalachia, a.k.a the former District Twelve, on the morning of the fiftieth anniversary of the final Reaping of the Hunger Games. There, she is literally waylaid by her own past, and wakes in the past, six weeks before Primrose was first Reaped. Alone, grieving, terrified, and without a clue on how she got there (and then), she realizes that it will be impossible for her- on every level- to simply live through events as they transpired in her personal future. With no way to return her to that future, she is nevertheless determined to get back to her own party - hopefully with a lot less damage and fewer crucial casualties along the way.

This is apart of the All Sorrows Less series, which is still being updated. It's filled with wonderful side characters, mindblowing twists, a baby I will kill people for and GILF Katniss, what more can I say?

Second Burn ( 127,000+ words) by carnationhes

Katniss wonders if things could be different if she got a second chance. And then she gets one. This morning she wakes up back in District 12 after Peeta's warning of the bombing on Thirteen.

Have you read Second burn? Why haven't you read it yet? You should read it. It's amazing. Literally makes my brain chemistry tingle. I think this is most accurate depiction of a Katniss being blasted to the past with no meta explanation why. It's sooo soo soo good. I'm on my knees please read it and please read the sequel Ignite as well. This series is so underated please.

over and over (lost again) (13,000+ words) by TeaBrigadier

I died in the Hunger Games. It isn’t even the first time it’s happened. I’ve died in the Hunger Games five times now

This is a very self contained time loop where Katniss continuously relieves the first games until she gets it right. I know it doesn't really fit the theme, but this one makes my feel happy feelings and i wanted to recommend something that's isn't so long so I'm adding it anyway. Deathloops are fun!

Ongoing:

Catching sparks (19k words) (Last update 26 Feb 2024) by Silver_Cleo

The time when 23 year old Katniss and Peeta get transported from their home in what had once been Victor's Village of District 12, and into the bodies of their much younger selves, who have just woken up from exiting the arena of the 74th Hunger Games.

Here Katniss and Peeta get traveled to the past to the point where they just win their games. It's a great WIP. I love Everlark working together and being cute + humanizing the 74th tributes and their family <3

I'm probably missing a few, but these are my favourite ones so far. As much as I love the trope, I know it's a monster to take on from a writing standpoint so props to the writers!

I hope you enjoy them <3 There's nothing I love more than shining a light on amazing fics new and old. If you have recs of your own, please send them my way. I love this trope so much haha

@bbrooklynbabe @nightlocked-in @waywardangel-wilds