#cause of course she has it worse he can't complain she doesn't need that right now

[o-kaythislooksbad]

@ailesswhumptober day 19: taken for granted / left behind / "why wasn't i enough?"

[angsty charlie pov of 15x08, the gang carries a corpse up a mountain]

the gang falls for charlie's ruse to take a hike with his dad, so his day is off to a great start. shelley kelly can't really walk up the mountain with the rest of them, but that's fine; the gang will help carry him. everyone takes a step back when charlie opens the body bag, which is weird, 'cause it's not like shelley is a zombie or anything, he's just dead.

"absolutely not!"

"this is a crazy idea, charlie, a crazy idea, and i'm not doing it."

the seagulls and waves crashing on the rocks below them distract charlie for a minute. he's not entirely sure what everyone's complaining about, 'cause this is a simple thing. mac not understanding makes sense, 'cause mac is kinda stupid. frank's just kinda there most of the time until they need him, and dee knows nothing, stupid bird. but dennis is smart, probably the smartest guy charlie knows, so why isn't he following charlie's plan?

"we're just gonna carry the man up the mountain, and then chuck him over the side." it's really not that difficult to understand, but mac and dennis keep bickering, so charlie does the only thing left to do and plays the 'bros before hoes' card. it works on them and frank, and even on dee, so everything's back on track.

everything's great, until it's not. the gang can't even go five minutes without complaining, which is normal, that's fine, but the weight of shelley in the bag is kinda distracting, and then everyone freaking drops him. they have one job, one, and charlie never asks them to do charlie work, not ever, but this probably counts as charlie work so of course he's meant to do it alone.

this is worse than the chicken inspection thing, and the waitress telling him to stay away. it's worse than always losing chardee macdennis, and being left at the zoo, and not having christmas presents, and his play getting ruined and nobody ever listening to him, ever.

dee's the one who killed shelley with her stupid banshee curse, but she's leaving now 'cause dennis fried a castle or something, so now it's just the guys. then dennis trips on nothing, and the bag feels lighter, because dennis is a bastard man who used charlie's dead dad to pull himself up the mountain. mac throws the body bag down, and frank keeps talking and talking about resourcing things, so they end up putting shelley's bag in frank's tent and pulling him up the hill.

they pull him up, and then mac kicks him and the bag tumbles down the hill, and it looks like it's going to keep falling forever. mac talks and talks about being dutch, so charlie snaps because mac's not dutch, he's just annoying as shit, but then mac leaves him with frank and dennis and the scrambled remains of shelley kelly.

dennis and frank keep dropping him, and dennis keeps telling him they should chop up the body, because dennis has a thing about cutting people and that's a whole other pile of worms to sort through that they don't have time for right now, and then dennis tells him that shelley died from the banshee curse and covid, and that's not fair, it's not. banshee curses are serious things, and covid's not so good either, but both is a lot for just one cheese monster to handle, so of course they overpowered shelley.

dennis says it's not like he gave him covid, even though he's the only one in the gang who didn't get the shot, but then frank starts talking about horse medicines and sea creatures and then dennis leaves, muttering about men from venus.

dee leaving was nothing; she's always doing her own thing, and being around her for too long makes charlie's skin itch, anyway. mac leaving hurt more, 'cause he's mac; he's supposed to stay with charlie, or at least with dennis. dennis walking away hurts in ways charlie doesn't even have pictures for.

charlie forgives frank for killing his dad, 'cause a kelly always forgives, but then frank gives him a canteen of piss and charlie wishes he didn't forgive him, even though he said it was gatorade. but then frank gives him another canteen of piss instead of gatorade, and there's nothing left to drink, 'cause mac drank all the spritzers, and that's it.

charlie's thirsty, and his feet ache, and no one's helping him, anyway, so he's better off doing this by himself.

"i'm gonna do this alone, frank. i don't need your help! i don't need you!"

frank doesn't even try to follow him as he drags the bag further up the mountain.

it starts to rain, but that's fine. the body is in a bag, and the bag's in a tent, and it's all messed up, anyway. even if it gets wet, it's not gonna make things worse. he's charlie, this is charlie work, so he can handle it. he's a kelly, and this is a kelly family tradition, so he's gonna handle it.

it's pouring, now, and the seagulls and the waves add to the loudness around him, but it's not loud enough. without the gang yelling and fighting about whatever bullshit pops into their heads, charlie's stuck with all the bullshit in his head. he's only one guy and he doesn't have a big head, so why is there so much?

the ground is muddy, and charlie slips, falling nearly on his face. he lays there for a while, 'cause he really is just a dirt grub, but pulls himself up to sit on his knees when the puddle starts to taste bad.

"i can't do this," he mutters. "i can't do it!"

charlie's head starts to feel better, lighter, when he yells, so he keeps yelling. it doesn't matter that there's no one listening, or that the wind and the rain carry his words away. the yelling feels good, and he's felt so, so bad lately - nothing good ever happens when he leaves philly.

"it's not fair! i shouldn't have to carry you up this hill! you never carried me up a hill! you never carried me at all! you never picked me up and showed me the letters and read me bedtime stories, you never threw rocks with me at christmas, you never showed me how to bash rats or make milk steak or fight the nightman or patch up my jacket! you never played basketball with me or took me to the dump to find treasure! you never sang me happy birthday, you never took me to an eagles game, 'cause you weren't there! you need me here, to be enough of a kelly to carry you up a fucking mountain, but i needed you and you were never there for me."

tears mix with the rain on charlie's face, but it doesn't matter that he's crying. no one's there to listen to him, to make fun of him, to tell him to just get over it and get back to cleaning up and making crazy schemes for everyone else.

"you were never there for me. you left me, and i needed you there. what's wrong with me? why wasn't i enough for you to stay?" charlie's voice breaks as he sobs and shakes.

"you were supposed to carry me," charlie whispers, falling onto the body bag and hitting it with his fists. "you were supposed to carry me."

[tessofthedooby]

"Plenty" - 1985 film

I am going to resist regurgitating the IMDB synopsis of what this movie was about as I barely remember it so I will just try to share my thoughts. Be warned, I am no longer able to watch movies with the same focus I did during my uni years. I can't seem to dedicate my attention to just watching a film. I am always in between a chore or sometimes scrolling on my phone.

The film opens up in somewhere in France during "the war" and Meryl's character is a brit working for her government in efforts against the war. I don't think they ever say what her position is, but I got the idea she fills whatever role is needed so it wouldn't feel correct to call her spy (not in the way you normally think of a spy I guess) but some of the work she was called upon to do was "covert". Perhaps the hesitation in calling her a spy is because the title of "spy" may evoke ideas of selflessness, dogged determination for a cause, slight fanaticism and violent bravery that is characteristic of a substance abuser (probably whiskey). Meryl's character, Susan, is not any of those things. She seems self-absorbed and too interested in her own pleasure during these times. Worse yet she betrays what can be described as "British sensibility"- being cold and unfeeling no matter the circumstances. She gives way to her emotions easily and there is a scene where she cries because she felt scared and angry after she and her companion are chased by armed forces. She gives in to her impulses which tends to result in her giving impassioned speeches during boring work meetings and deciding to have a baby with a man who (has fallen in love with her but that) doesn't love. But of course, as we all now know, the war ends and she has to go back to a society that won't countenance an errant woman spouting political rhetoric and shacking up with just anybody. Logically and without fuss she decides to marry a colleague (?) I like to think that she thought her moxie would save her from the tragedy of domestic life but she is wrong. She struggles to play the role of the supporting wife and meddles in her husband's political career by... you know... giving her opinion in front of his colleagues . The husband isn't a bad sort, in fact I thought he was devoted to her but they both live in this society and sometimes putting your head down and going along is the only way to survive. Yes, she doesn't think of the consequences of her actions on others but how can we not feel for someone who can't accept her assigned place as a heavily medicated housewife? A very complicated character and who is right (I really do agree with her on most things) but very easy to hate because as a seemingly wealthy (white) British woman, what is she complaining about? Her troubles seem petty and like a childish longing for the past (ehem... the war). No honey, we can't stay in France and play war games forever, at some point you have to go home and play "house" instead.

I don't recall this ever being explicitly discussed by the characters in the film, but the question begs, why was it more acceptable for her to work abroad in potentially life-threatening situations but when she returns home to the UK the idea of her continuing with the work is not even thought of? Not even by her? Maybe somewhere between going to the bathroom or cleaning the kitchen I missed that scene.

I want to rewatch this on a grey and rainy day. The green grey color treatment gave serious Twilight vibes.

[tidepoolalgae]

.

when my mom was here she revealed that she had been using the guest bathroom in her house for weeks because she broke a glass in the master bathroom and never cleaned it up. I was already kinda thinking I could go back sometime during the rest of the year and see the ocean, feel the wind on my face, whatever, but there's always this dimension of, if I do go, I'm probably gonna be cleaning and stressed about meals and everything the whole time. and now I know there's worse things going on if she shared that with me...

tbh I try to be chill when she shares these things with me because she'll tell me more if I'm kinda nonchalantly asking (she's honest with me the most out of everyone in the family) but also recently I'm thinking maybe I should freak out to her face more??? like, THAT'S NOT NORMAL!!!!!!! so I should say so??! But also she already knows in some aspect so I don't see why I should change it up (and risk her keeping more info from me)

my brother says that "we just need to get her house cleaned up so that she's not as embarrassed about the state of it, then she can hire someone to come in and help her clean once a week or every two weeks" but also we have cleaned up significantly several times over the last few years and she never! gets! help! It just gets worse again! I tried to convince her many times when I was living there in person and no dice. Neither of us can afford to hire someone for her, and she'd probably be upset with us anyway if we did (cause she doesn't want help but doesn't really admit it), so she has to do it. It has to come from her

but regardless I keep having this thought/impulse that I have to travel there so that I can at least clean up that glass for her. WHICH I REALIZED SOUNDS COMPLETELY DERANGED WHEN I SAID IT OUT LOUD. but also WHAT am I supposed to do? am I just supposed to turn away??

And really it doesn't just affect her cause there's the dog too. I always feel so bad for the dog. She could've had such a better life, I remember her running around outside as a puppy and she enjoyed it so much. And now... :( I tried so hard to help her and take her out for walks when I was living there but my own depression got so much worse when I was there, it's like I was getting infected by the depression fungus that lives in the walls of that house and everything was the worst... I couldn't even make it six months before I had to run away halfway across the country to go work a temporary job that my friend's mom suggested to me so I could avoid [redacted]

Of course my dad just fucked off and left all the responsibility to my mom so I can blame him about the dog too lmao. They made the joint decision to get her so idk why they can't both take care of her. My mom complains about that too...

and honestly really I'm not sure if I am/was trying my best at all, a lot of the time I feel like I'm barely scraping by but also when I was in college I threw myself into that and, even though I had my most intense experiences with suicidality during that time, I graduated summa cum laude and LIKE!! There's a part of me that questions how did I accomplish that and then basically just run myself into the ground? academic achievement is definitely not the only indicator of having it together but I'm pretty sure I could've done better over the last few years for everyone, lol.

my partner says I gotta have "boundaries" with my mom and maybe he's right but also as the person in the family who has it the most together (LOL, can you believe it? ME!!) I do feel like I have to help, even if I get +100 psychic damage.

I also don't like the feeling that I'm on the tip of a precipice. Maybe I can go casually and it doesn't have to be a big deal? Maybe the decision to not go doesn't have to be that deep? why do I keep freaking out??

[abluescarfonwaston]

I want the kids to find some old compilation videos of Wild Tiger preforming his "signature move" Cat Nap. Tiger falling asleep on the couch during interviews or on his feet during group ones. Swaying to the side sometimes and "There it is folks! The Tiger special! And it seems like he's gone for his favorite pillow again! Rock Bison!"

There was a whole website dedicated to keeping track of the Tiger pillow rankings. Bison might not win with points but he's got a small but dedicated group convinced that he must be the comfiest pillow of a man once he undoes his unbreakable skin all thanks to Kotetsu.

The end of the video is a highlight reel of the unofficial sign off for that season. "And there's wild tiger taking a cat nap on a wall/a bench/a spare gurney. The danger must be passed folks. Goodnight!"

Thomas didn't want to engage but he's got a nack for finding the best videos from back then and everyone's huddled around him. They're almost a decade old so it's not easy. Kotetsu arrives and asks what they're watching. Gets excited that they might be watching his Best of clips. Nope.

"it's hard to imagine you were actually worse at your job before."

Tiger's pouting. Bison laughs. "Kaede sure gave him the run around, that's for sure!"

"Huh?"

"Nghnn... Kaede had really bad colic after she was born. So I'd sit up with her when i got home so Tomoe could rest and then go to work in the morning."

"You ran on like two hours of sleep that whole season."

"Yeah." He says with the utmost affection. "I kinda miss it."

"Mmhmm. Tomoe was always the sensible one."

[weepinglevi]

patience is a virtue

summary: college!au. all aged up. eren and reader continue with their sexual escapades. find part one here! warnings: 18+ minors dni. dirty text messages, dirty talk. dom!eren and bratty reader (i suppose?). throat fucking and semi-public sex. (no p in v tho) word count: around 3.5k A/N: i have a love/hate relationship with this eren ahaha, he's been ruling my brainrot ever since the last part so i hope you enjoy! there will be a part three eventually, so be on the lookout for that! enjoy your read and feedback is greatly appreciated! xx

you awake to your phone vibrating somewhere next to you. the hope of it only being a one-time occurrence quickly proven to be false as it just wouldn't stop. brr-brr. a second of silence. brr-brr. pause. brr-brr.

taking a mental note to never go to sleep again without turning off your phone, you roll over to your other side and try to ignore it. you could simply answer the texts, but that meant you'd have to open your eyes. and that whoever was texting you would win this weird battle you've just come up with in your head.

"if you don't pick up your goddamn phone, i'll smack you over the head with it," sasha groans from the other side of your shared dorm, words coming slurry with her tiredness.

brr-brr.

"i could also stick it up your ass, your decision," a pillow comes flying to your head, serving as enough of a warning for you to sit up in your bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

"quit moaning, i'll turn it off now," you yawn, feeling around your bed for your phone, "you never hear me complaining about the shit you do in the middle of the night."

"that's because my shit is funny and not fucking annoying," she scoffs, followed by a muted thump as she is sinking back down into her pillows. sasha's way of ending the conversation.

you find your phone half-tucked underneath your pillow, the display already lighting up again. someone is desperate for attention, you think to yourself and unlock your phone with an annoyed sigh. the messages were coming from an unknown number.

thinking about your wet pussy. this is eren, btw. historia gave me your number. i told her you wouldn't mind you don't mind, do you?

in a matter of seconds, your heart is beating in your throat once more, just like this afternoon in that godforsaken computer lab. ears growing hot at his words, you could almost imagine the sound of him laughing at you again. with trembling fingers, you scroll down further.

anyway, let's do it again sometime i told you. i'll never let you forget about how you moaned my name i'm also not forgetting about how badly i want to fuck that pretty mouth of yours, so it's a win-win see ya, then

staring down at your phone, you don't know if you should answer him. and even if you would answer his texts, what the hell should you say? "fucking bastard," the words escaping your mouth before even realizing that you'd better keep quiet. the only thing that could make this situation any worse was if sasha were to wake up again.

scratch that, you think as you see eren's new messages.

how badly do you want to suck my cock? you looked really hot today, covered in my cum what, you're shy again?

there are two ways this could go: either you stand up, put on some clothes, and then go to eren's dorm to let hell rain upon him - or simply mute your phone and ignore him. deciding to go with the latter, you lie back down and save his number as "fuckhead", a small grin forming on your face. if he wants to be childish, then you can be, too.

the display still lighting up at a steady pace, you have to fight the urge to open his other messages. to physically prevent yourself from grabbing your phone again, you put your hands between your thighs and sigh. what the hell have i gotten myself into?

"so, who am i gonna have to teach some manners today?", sasha asks in the morning, "because there are only two valid reasons for sending that many texts in the middle of the night," she sits up in her bed and bends over to reach for her phone, "either someone's dead or there's a food sale."

cringing at the thought of having to read the countless other messages eren has sent throughout the night, you try to laugh at her comment, "of course, when there's food involved, you're all for it."

"girl's gotta eat," she claims, thankfully being too distracted by something on her phone to notice your strange behavior, "i'm gonna be back later than usual today, connie wants me to be his wingman again."

starting to go off on a tangent about how connie should just get a dating app already, sasha's words become more of background noise to you. you want to know what he wrote. what he has in store for you. at the same time, you curse yourself out. you're turning into a headless chicken and all of it because of eren fucking yeager?

you nod here and there, offering her a "yes" at what you believe to be fitting moments, desperately hoping she doesn't catch up on your restlessness. all the while the two of you are getting ready for the day. this goes on for a few more minutes and you have no clue what she's talking about now, so you decide to grab your phone and stand up.

"i'm gonna go for a run around campus, you want coffee?" you blurt out, interrupting her monologue. the device in your hand feels as if it's burning through your skin. slipping into your trainers, you're already halfway out the room, her perplexed "uh- yes, please," being muffled by the door closing behind you.

it's still warm outside - not as hot as yesterday, but warm enough for you to be glad to have forgotten your cardigan earlier. you let out a deep breath, trying to clear your mind. even though you told sasha you'd be out for a run, you walk at a slow pace.

some people are already wandering around campus, most of them on their way to a lecture. at this time in the morning, everyone has their heads full with their own worries so no one notices you slowly making your way off-campus.

arriving at a little park surrounded by trees, you sit down on the bench farest off. you notice your heart fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird when pulling the phone out of your back pocket. fuck him, you think once again while typing in your code. fuck him for making me feel this way.

12 unread messages.

didn't seem all too shy when i had my hand wrapped around your throat no need to play hard to get when i already had you if that makes sense? haven't fucked you yet doesn't mean i won't get to fuck you

all you want is to feel appalled by these messages. to screenshot them and send them to the dean. maybe even to his mother. sickened with yourself though, you already feel the familiar warmth creeping up your body, curling up in your abdomen.

i know you want it, too how fucking needy you were for me getting yourself off in public to the thought of me maybe you can tell me what exactly you were thinking of? gonna make sure to let your dreams come true, princess

pet names? you clench your fist at the thought of eren leaning over you, breathing the word princess into your ear. you have an inkling that he'd say it mockingly; spitting it out whilst gathering your hair in a ponytail, arching your back forcefully, and slamming his length into you without mercy.

no. you hate pet names. at least, you've always hated them.

i'm gonna find out if you're ignoring me right now remember, you're not the best actress. fucking suck at it, actually wouldn't want to be punished now, would we?

his last message echoed in your head. still coming to terms with the fact of what happened yesterday, now you have to deal with a whole new revelation: eren yeager being a cocky motherfucker pushing all the right buttons for you. even though you want to blast his ass for this, the mere thought of him being near you again is too sweet of an imagination.

you want to play this game, too. for whatever reason keep on riding this high, and you just know that no one could do it quite as well as eren can. somehow you can only imagine taking him on this ride with you, no one else.

so, in that manner you decide to ignore his messages. if he's desperate enough to keep on sending them in the middle of the night, you're sure it won't be long until he sends another text. and it would give him enough reason to try and punish you, whatever that might entail – you're excited to find out. fucking nervous, too. but then again, who wouldn't be?

you stand up and put your phone in your back pocket, a sense of excitement surrounding your steps as you turn left to make your way to the nearest coffee shop.

"something tells me you're ignoring me," of course, the moment eren's voice comes up behind you, you fucking flinch like a little bird that's been scared away, "mostly because i've seen you reading the messages, but what do i know?"

you turn to see him clutching his heart dramatically, "don't play with my feelings like this," he swoons, bringing one hand to his forehead. he's laughing again, all white teeth and bright smiles – you realize this is the kind of eren you rarely get to see. not the cocky bastard he normally portrays; right now, he seems to be a happy-go-lucky kind of guy, just enjoying himself. still, you want to show him that you can play just as well as he can.

crossing your arms in front of your chest, you slightly raise a brow, trying your hardest to not look as nervous as you feel. it's a lost cause though because you can already feel the tips of your ears glowing with heat again. can't things go my way for once? just once? you think and chew the inside of your cheek. you felt so sure of yourself just moments ago. how the hell can he have this sort of effect on you?

suddenly, his whole demeanor changes. before, he seemed laid-back, entertained by the game he played with you. now he leans forward, hands in the pockets of his jacket and an almost cruel smile forming on his lips, "don't try to challenge me in this. you'll lose."

you know that you should feel frightened. terrified, even. he's looking like a lion preparing to jump the antelope, a sense of alarming calmness around him that's causing the small hairs on your neck to stand up. but alas, the way he's looking at you seems to have the same effect on you his scent has.

"i told you not to ignore me," eren says and takes a few steps closer to you, "yet here you are, doing it again." the chuckle leaving his lips a stark contrast to his stern gaze, still trained on you. somehow, you feel awfully small again - still not frightened, though. you stare right back at him, tilting your head slightly as if you wanted to say "so what?"

"are you seriously that desperate to be punished?"

better now than never, you think and once again place a courtly smile on your lips, "seems like it."

for a split second, you see eren's smug look turn into a genuine smile. realizing that you're up for his game, he lets out a smooth whistle, "you do surprise me."

"if you wouldn't always be so full of yourself, i'm sure you'd have recognized this sooner," you can feel the confidence growing in yourself again. clinging on to it, you take a step toward him, "i'm full of surprises."

"oh, yeah? i bet you are," from the corner of your eye, you can see him lifting his hand. before thinking twice about it, you bat it away, "i'm not one for public displays of affection."

oh, it is on– eren's smirk turns into a full-fledged grin as he takes a grip of your wrist, "you sure about that?" lifting your hand to his face, for a short moment you think he's going to suck on your fingers again. but all he does is place a faint kiss on the back of your hand, "didn't seem like it yesterday."

"you weren't supposed to see."

"but i'm so glad i did," he leans forward, the two of you standing so close you can feel his breath on your face, "or else we wouldn't have this kind of fun right now."

still having a hold of your hand, he lifts his other to your jaw, gently tracing his thumb across your lower lip, "you looked so pretty in your skirt yesterday."

taking a leap of faith, you grab his hand, holding it in place and letting your tongue run across the tip of his thumb before biting down playfully. there's a hiss and then eren pulls away and grabs your arm, "come with me."

finally, you think and let him guide you to wherever he wants, let's have some fun, then.

on your way out of the park, you pass jean and marco. even though they stand to greet eren, he just raises his hand whilst not breaking his pace, "gotta go, have an assignment to work on."

"never seen you that determined, but go off," jean laughs.

before you know it, you're inside one of the countless maintenance sheds. pushing you against the wall, eren's movements seem to become more and more erratic by the second. pinning your arms over your head, he's looking down at you, breathing heavily. "you have no idea what you just got yourself into," licking his lips, he chuckles.

"oh, but i think i actually do," you smile innocently, fucking glad to have found your normal self again. admittedly, eren threw you off your game since yesterday – but it's just going to play into your hands now. he won't see it coming until it's hitting him straight in the face; that you're just as messed up as he seems to be.

"then prove it," he breathes against your ear, "tell me how badly you want it."

the stuffy air inside the dimly lit shed doesn't help with keeping eren's scent away from you. being so close to him, looking up into his shadowed face and right into his dilated eyes; you're like putty in his hands. you try to move forward, to touch him in some way because you just know that he'll feel so good under your skin.

"now now, princess," he moves even closer, wedging you between himself and the wall, "how about we learn some patience, first?"

you nod, but then grind up against his thigh, hissing through your teeth, "i worry i'll be a real handful." you know you could very well move your hands, too – eren seems to still be testing the waters as to how far he can go with you. but with him actually letting you grind on him; you decide to play into his hands.

your breaths grow quicker as you keep on, pace becoming erratic. all you want is to get rid of your track pants – come to think of it, what you actually want is eren under you whilst you continuously bounce on his cock. you want to hear him call you princess and immediately after call you his little whore because that's exactly what you are.

eren has a little smile on his lips and you know you should ask yourself why – because you're doing exactly what he has forbidden you to do – but you're too far gone. the heat growing, you feel your knees buckle but he's holding you up; one hand now resting on your waist for support. you're so close –

and then he pulls away from you, nearly causing you to topple over. chest heaving, you place your hands on your knees for balance, "what the fuck was – "

"patience is a virtue," interrupting you with a laugh, but his voice heavy with lust, "thought i might give you a lesson you're ought to remember."

you look up to see eren palming his erection through his pants, standing about an arm's length away from you, "but i have to admit, hearing you getting yourself off is fucking hot."

biting your teeth together, you straighten up and take a step toward him – only for him to click his tongue in disapproval, "you're gonna stay right there," tugging at his pants he raises his eyebrow, "i told you what i want, get on your knees for me."

"the fuck i will," you spit out and make a move again, grasping for his waistband. but eren is quick to take a hold of your hand and pushes you back to the wall, "come on, now, princess," he chuckles but his eyes are concentrated at you, "you want this, don't you?". he's asking for permission, the thought feeling very comforting to you. and also, very excited for what's about to come.

"of course, i do," you answer him earnestly, resting the back of your head against the wall, "or else i wouldn't be here."

"fantastic," he breathes, a little smile playing in the corners of his mouth, "then get down on your knees," placing his hands on your shoulders, weighing you down, "i won't ask again."

the change of tone in his voice has you nodding, slowly sinking onto your knees, you're bursting in anticipation. one hand finally pulling down his pants, he runs his other through your hair, then down your jaw until it comes to rest on your chin.

thumbing at your lower lip, he groans "do i have to be careful?"

you just shake your head no. then you break away from his gaze, fixing your eyes on the bobbing cock in front of you. it's tip leaking with precum already, you remember how badly you wanted to lick it away yesterday.

taking his cock at its base, you bend forward and slide your tongue around its head. the salty taste sending shudders down your spine, you make sure to lift your eyes again once you prepare to take it all down your throat. your other hand snakes up to his balls, slightly tugging them which earns you a moan from eren, and fuck, you're so wet at the sound alone, you let go of his cock and slide one hand down to your own center.

he gathers your hair in one hand, taking the base of his throbbing cock in the other, "bet this is what you thought of yesterday," he slowly but surely pulls your head in closer, "of how i fuck the words right out of you."

bucking your hips into your own hand, you can do nothing but whimper at his words. because yes, this is exactly what you imagined. he's only halfway in and you're already struggling to breathe, but not wanting him to stop you hold your breath and push down even further; trying desperately not to moan.

the tears in your eyes causing your vision to be blurry, you attempt to blink them away.

"shit – ", he's pumping into you now, rubbing the tears from your cheeks and then placing both his hands on your head, "you're doing so well – "

getting lost in his words, the fear of being caught is so far away; you finally moan around his cock. saliva soaking the hem of his shirt, you can't seem to take his whole length, no matter how hard you try. you're a fucking mess under him and the thought alone is nearly sending you over the edge.

he's trying to pull away now and you know he's close, so you snake your hand around his hip, hoping this is enough of a sign to him that if he dared to cum anywhere else than down your throat, you'd bite him.

"you really – " his voice is hoarse, "fuck – this is fucking perfect," he moans as he comes to the realization. leaning his arm against the wall behind you, he's fucking himself into your mouth, his panting and the sound of your choking filling the room.

you close your eyes to blink the tears away again, but eren pulls on your hair, "no – look at me."

with this the knot in your belly explodes, leaving you holding on to eren's hip as you ride the waves of electricity that are running through your body like lava.

"such a good little whore – " he's gone as well, holding your head in place as he's pumping his load down your throat, leaving you no other option than to swallow – which you eagerly do. you feel his legs shaking under your hands.

once again, eren hands you his shirt to clean your face. this time, you take it with a smile, noting that, "i still have your other one."

"don't worry, i'll come get it sometime when sasha's away," the two of you know exactly what this means – neither of you are planning on this to be over anytime soon.

"i'll let you know, then," you nod and stand up, hoping you don't look as well-fucked as you feel, and make your way to the door, "she's gone most of the time."

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[into-daylight-hope]

Qui-Gon Jinn: Certified Hypocrite, Fascinating Failure, Mass of Contradictions

For starters, I am just going to let direct quotes from the man speak for itself.

Some excerpts from Master & Apprentice

Wise words.

Wait a minute...

😯😯 What the hell is happening here? All quotes are from the same man in one book.

Qui-Gon Jinn doesn't have an ounce of self-awareness and it is so hilariously terrible.

What is even better (or worse), this is perfectly in line with The Phantom Menace characterization .

I mean,

Remember when he said all this than spent the rest of the movie obsessing over prophecies, the chosen one and literally the future?

"He still has so much to learn of the living force." Qui-Gon Jinn about Obi-Wan in the council scene

After that scene

"The boy is dangerous. They all sense it why can't you?" Obi-Wan Kenobi about Anakin Skywalker to Qui-Gon Jinn

You see Obi-Wan, Master Jinn here has completely lost any sense of "here and now" between his crusade against darkness and divine mission to save the Galaxy.

This in turn, unsurprisingly blinds him to the fact Anakin is not suitable to become a Jedi. Or at least not ready to directly move on to becoming a padawan.

Anakin himself would suffer in a road that is not meant for him. But he is not planning for Anakin the child. He is thinking about The Glorious Chose One.

He is the chosen one. You all must, see it.

And yet from Qui-Gon's perspective it is Obi-Wan who doesn't understand the Living Force.

I have to say if he is truly a student of the living force as many fans claim he has been failing the class for at least 8 years.

Let's move on to another set of entertaining and horrifyingly oblivious quotes from M&A.

If you look upward you can observe Mr. Here and Now in his natural habitat.

He really acts like future is set in stone than thinks he is the right person to talk about about concentrating in the moment. Unbelievable.

Let's look at this dialogue again. In contrast with the excerpt from above.

He is all about the future when it suits him. But when Obi-Wan makes a remark on it he obviously should just focus on the moment. This is actually the third time in this post where he contradicts himself while specifically chastising or criticizing Obi-Wan for something Qui-Gon actually does.

Now I don't think Qui-Gon acts with malice. But it is important to point out his obliviousness has become a way of ensuring he is never in the wrong.

He suffers from an immense hubris. And a man obsessed with prophecies and chosen ones definitely has some kind of savior complex.

But notably Jinn doesn't actually want to put any effort into enacting real change with his limited yet existent capabilities.

He turns down a council seat in M&A because he thinks it would hold him down. From what? Dear God, the reason they offered him a seat was for different opinions. Qui-Gon can complain all he wants but one time he actually had a chance to make his opinions a reality he freaking bailed.

Why? He doesn't want to face his own limits. He can't bare to try and fail. It is much easier to sustain a superiority complex when you are complaining from the sidewalk.

So he fixates all this belief onto prophecies, visions that will magically cure the Galaxy. And of course his place to help fulfill them. To the point where it is the one thing that keeps him standing.

He has binded meaning of his life and belief for goodness dangerously close to his supposed importance in the Galaxy. (You can feel the influences of his former master)

His absolute refusal to engage with reality turns him into mass of contradictions. Cause he doesn't know what he will find or become if he is mistaken in his belief of himself.

He can't face reinvention on the event of defeat.

But this situation was different. It had to be, because the only thing Qui-Gon knew to be absolutely true was that his vision was real.

Oh by the way, it turned out he misunderstood the vision. But when does being wrong ever stopped Qui-Gon Jinn?

No words.

Only Qui-Gon could have come near declaring himself a prophet after making a mistake. Maybe stop and reflect man? Just stop and think about your actions.

Obi-Wan Kenobi: I have a bad feeling about this.

Qui-Gon Jinn: I don't sense anything.

Of course you don't.

Honestly he doesn't have much to speak for in the cosmic force department either.

(There is the whole force ghost thing I guess. But I have no idea if that is more connected with living or cosmic force. It seems to be more about spiritual enlightenment. Which is ridiculous when you consider Yoda had go through so many trials, face his darkside, learn to truly let go just for Force priestesses to deem him worthy enough to study immortality. Yes Qui-Gon never became a force ghost but he had started his training before he died. And much of Yoda's tests on TCW was about self-awareness. It is not just about being a good person. How did Force Priestesses approve Qui-Gon "I was meant to misinterpret this vision." Jinn? I would understand if he became wiser after death and faced his flaws and all but he never was on that level before he died. You might say even Anakin became a force ghost. But I would remind you, Anakin in the end broke out of denial, acknowledged the wrong of his ways and took that leap to the light side. Self-awareness seems such an important key to becoming a force ghost. Right there with selflessness. Personally it doesn't quite feel right for a character whose biggest flaws are their lack of introspection and hubris which we never see him rise above to be the one that discovers immortality again. It feels more like a rushed plot point to explain how we get from A to B.)

This post got out of control 😂. I honestly just wanted to point out lack of communication might be one of the reasons Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon have trouble understanding each other but it is sometimes even harder to understand Qui-Gon when he actually says something. Cause ration is not what drives him.

Qui-Gon is such a complex character. He is undeniably good especially compared to other SW characters. Yet for all fandom's deifying he might be the most flawed Jedi we see on the franchise. (The ones that fell to the dark side not included.)

It is a shame wider fandom completely write off his flaws to the degree I can't even recognize the character when they talk about Jinn. Cause that Qui-Gon is so hard to feel empathy for.

When people constantly make statements like "He is The Wisest sw character." his hypocrisy stops being amusing. It doesn't end on screen or page instead often used to bash other characters.

An unbelievable analysis from Wookiepedia:

When Jinn saved the Gungan exile Jar Jar Binks, who in turn swore a life-debt to him, his compassionate nature was such that Jinn took the hapless Gungan under his wing, much to Kenobi's dismay. His empathy toward all life forms, including the most pitiful and unfortunate, was Jinn's greatest strength. Additionally, he remained understanding and patient with Queen Padmé Amidala. During the short time they knew each other, he never asked for her to do more than she was willing to.

You know out of the two, Qui-Gon was the one who insulted Jar Jar to his face. And he didn't took Jar Jar under his wing. They forced him to take them to a city where Jar Jar could have been punished for entering. Now it was the pragmatic thing to do. For all three's survival not for their own gain. Understandable. But compassion is just pushing it.

Also he never asked Padme to do more than she was willing to do?

Padmé : Are you sure about this? Trusting our fate to a boy we hardly know? The Queen will not approve.

Qui-Gon Jinn : The Queen does not need to know.

Padmé : Well, I don't approve.

And he is aware she is the queen, herself. Padme was nearly tearing out her because of this man in TPM.

What is weird, Jinn in his bewildering hypocrisy probably thinks he is being admirably compassionate with Jar Jar, highly understanding and patient with Padme. We clearly see he is not.

Out of universe he has been a force ghost for decades now but fandom is nowhere near acknowledging his flaws than he is.

And honestly SW doesn't have that many major morally complex characters. People like Maul, Palpatine, Anakin,Ventress don't think they are serving a higher purpose or oblivious to the evils they commit.

Emotionally complicated, yes. Going through moral dilemmas, no.

Three major characters come to mind who make huge mistakes, condone or commit atrocities while thinking they are in the right/with good intentions/for a greater cause. With varying degrees of culpability.

Qui-Gon. Padme. Dooku.

In that order.

Let these characters be interesting instead of demonizing nearly inhumanly selfless Jedi characters. (They make mistakes too but funnily enough they are still way better beings than most people on our planet.)

By the way I found the epitaph "Fascinating Failure" from the article here. Especially the last paragraphs make some interesting points. ⬇️

👀

This post might seem harsh but that is expected since it focuses on Qui-Gon's flaws.

"People are more than their worst act,” Quote from Qui-Gon Jinn in Master & Apprentice

[heshoes]

She was his best friend and they shared everything together already anyway. What difference would it make if it were a hat, shampoo, or the same bed sometimes? So what? That's what the Uni Daze were about, having fun, traditions, getting serious, new relationships, friendships, heart ache, break-ups, make ups, secrets, the occasional/casual bajingo here and there, and possibly, just maybe, finding the love of your life and hoping that it all works out.

Warnings: smut, slow burn, angst, mentions of abortion, mentions of verbal abuse

Harry Styles x OC (Face claim Zendaya)

Uni Daze Masterlist

Chapter 1 (Word Count 4k)

Harry

Water droplets cascaded down my neck before I grabbed a towel to throw over my head. That shower was definitely needed. My muscles would be sore from my workout this morning, but I enjoy the ache. As I headed towards my room to put on clothes I noticed that my roommates door was still closed and for Michelle this can only mean one thing.

I pulled up my trousers and pulled my t-shirt over my head before layering it with a plaid button up. If she doesn't wake up soon, I'll be forced to take measures into my own hands. I walked halfway down the hall and then stopped to pick up the beanie that I let Michelle borrow last night. The hat was carelessly tossed on the floor along with a t-shirt of hers and a pink-ish orange lace bra. This was just one of the many downsides of living with a woman. Even if she is your best mate, finding the occasional bras and panties mixed into your clothes on laundry day can put a damper on your chances of trying and talk to a girl if you don’t have a washer and drier in house, and lets not even mention those four to five days out of the month when a tampon box is left on the bathroom sink and you have to explain that to a date. Not thinking, I picked all of the items up before I dropped the shirt and bra on the ground, feeling somewhat awkward touching something that was so close in contact with Michelle's...intimate bits.

"Michelle?!" No answer…

"Mitchell?! Wake up you're gonna be late for our first class!”

I laughed to myself at her lack of response before I sauntered back down the hall to my room grabbing the Ultimate Alarm; a fog horn that Michelle, the lads, and I nabbed from a school footie game. We each have one and have all have organized to use it with each other when the drink has made us more sluggish than functional.

Not much has changed since the first day I met Michelle. She's the only one here that I've met who seems to have stayed the same throughout all the three years of university that I've known her....That can be looked at as both a good and a bad thing.

Shaking the foghorn with devilish delight and biting my cheeks so that I wouldn't blow my cover, my feet stopped in front of her door once again. I cracked the entrance slightly sticking my arm in the room and turning my head away to shield my ears as much as possible from the noise. As soon as I pressed the button to sound it off, I heard a loud thudding sound followed by cursing. If she wasn't up before, she's up now.

"WHAT THE FUCK, HAZLAND?!”

I ran back to my room to put the horn down and grab my bag. This is the first year that I haven't strained my back to pick it up. Fouth year with a lighter load but more studying than I did in all the other three years combined seems pretty backwards to me, but I won't complain.

"What time is it?”

"Half- Oh-“

Michelle emerged from her room looking worse for wear. Her hair was in a nest atop her head and she only wore a long sleeved burgundy t-shirt and a black pair of boy short knickers on her lithe, lanky frame. I  swallowed deeply and turned my head away not expecting her to be so scantily clad. The colors contrasted with her warm honey/caramel skin tone and it was only then that I took in how much of her skin was actually showing. I've seen her naked before but it was an accident and brief. Very brief. I only saw her outlines really, nothing of real importance... not that I was trying to look or anything.

"Half past eight. Go put on trousers! I don't want to see your bajingo!”

Michelle primped her dry lips at me prior to moistening them with a swipe of her tongue, making sure to flip her middle finger up in my direction before she disappeared back into her room.

"Everyone wants to see my bajingo Harry and that's plenty of time for me to get ready. You didn't have to use the Ultimate Alarm. It's not like I was in a drug induced coma!”

"I called you twice but you didn't answer. I thought that-“

I trailed off my words as a gorgeous blonde walked out of Michelle's room. Her hair was tussled and she was scrambling to adjust her skirt as Michelle looked at me with a tightlipped grin, feeling out the room.Michelle walked her secret house guest to the door and gave her a lingering kiss that caused the girl to stand on tip toe before awkwardly waving a goodbye to her and shutting the door. I was left stunned.

"Pick your jaw up off the floor Styles!”

"That- that was a girl.”

“Yes."

"She was your friend?”

“No."

Michelle walked into the kitchen grabbing an orange juice carton out of the refrigerator. She took a sip straight from the jug causing me to grimace before she rolled her eyes at me and grabbed a  red solo cup. I was only momentarily distracted before I continued on my previous trail of thought.

"But, you were...and she…"

"Yes Harry, spit it out come on. You're almost there. I know it. I can feel it”

"She was putting her clothes back on.”

Michelle nodded her head in agreement as she continued to guzzle the rest of our citrusy, pulp free juice. After she finished it, she tossed the empty plastic to me and then walked out of the kitchen. I was right by the bin but set the cup on the countertop as my brain continued to navigate through what I think I want to ask.

"You didn't have on many clothes…"

"No, Harry. Neither of us did last night.”

Michelle folded her arms while squinting at me. The hint she's dropped allows what comes out of my mouth next to be uninhibited and honestly sound a bit too over zealous about the idea.

"You had sex with her?”

Michelle nodded her head up and down grinning slightly. Almost a smug look on her face I would say. She hadn't been in a relationship in a while. The last one I remember was when she was with my best mate Louis. It's how I met her as a matter of fact. Michelle and Louis are virtually the same person. It's freaky sometimes. She could be a reincarnate of him as a girl. They were inseparable, but when it ended it ended badly. I'm still not clear on the reason why. Neither of them will talk about it, but I managed to stay neutral in the whole situation and still be able to carry on a friendship with both of them. I'm still good friends with Lou, but he doesn't come around as much since I moved in with Michelle. Me and her got on so well while her and Louis dated it was hard not to become friends with her as well. Louis moved on and moved in with his bird earlier this year and I haven't really seen Michelle with anyone...Until now.

"So-so, you're a lesbian then?”

"Yes Harry. I've 'switched teams' as they say.”

"Since when?” I was just so shocked.

"Since over the summer...Does it bother you?” Michelle looked down at the ground and scratched the back of her neck as if she were bracing herself if I said it did and to be honest I was slightly offended that she’d think that way of me.

“No… No, I just never saw you with anyone over the summer.”

I could hear a sigh of relief escape Michelle’s lips as she turned to leave the front door.

I could have sworn she only hung out with me and the lads when Louis wasn't around. She hung out with us so much and we'd gotten so comfortable around her that we actually started counting her as one of the guys and calling her 'Mitch' or 'Mitchell' instead of Michelle. She always pretends to get cross with us when we called her that, but she can never keep a straight face long enough for us to believe that she doesn't like it.

"That doesn't mean I wasn't with anyone Harrow." Michelle winked at me and went back into her room coming out ten minutes later in joggers, a t-shirt, and Nike trainers with no backpack, one pencil, and a pen. Very prepared.

"Told you thirty minutes was more than enough time. Come now, Hazland.”

"...That's what she said." I smiled proudly at my own joke while Michelle gave me an unwavering a stale face.

"If I can say anything about growth in these last 4 years of our friendship it would be that you have made the least of it. You are the worst.”

“The pot shouldn’t call the kettle names. I thought it was funny." I grinned at her irritation grabbing all of my things in preparation to start the final year.

"Of course you did. Usually when you think it's funny that means it's not.”

Michelle exited out leaving me to lock the door to our new off campus apartment but I wanted to know more. 

I followed behind her and asked her all types of questions. You can't just spring on people that you've switched sides and not expect them to want to know all of the details. In all honesty it wasn't a big deal as long as she was happy. Perhaps I was just being nosy, but after usually seeing her with mainly men my underlying question to her was probably, "Why?"

"I wasn't having that much luck with guys, Haz. One night I went out for a drink and a girl approached me so I figured, why the hell not? What could it hurt, really? Nothing. I went for it, and I enjoyed myself.”

She didn't have a great track record with guys after her split with Lou. She was so unhappy at one point, but then again when you bring home assholes and expect them to turn into stand up gents tears are to be expected. They always looked like gutter grunge to me but at the moment that seemed to be her type, so I didn't say anything. I've actually spent a lot of nights with Michelle rubbing her back as she cried against my shoulder and handing her the odd Kleenex to substitute for my shirt. Now that I think about it, last summer I really didn't see her with any guys. I guess when I saw her with girls I always assumed they were just her friends.

"So...What's it like?”

"What's what like?”

"You know the, um, the switch...What's it like?" Michelle threw her head back and laughed as we reached the main building for our senior seminar class.

"You mean what's it like going from cock to fanny? Is that what you're asking me?" I raised my eyebrows at her bluntness and I could feel heat rise in my cheeks. There's no beating about the bush with Michelle, not anymore anyway.

"Pretty much, yeah. That's what I'm asking. I’m just being nosy. If it’s too much you don’t have to-“

"Honestly," Michelle shifted her eyes back and forth as if she was going to tell me the secret to life in her next sentence, "It's so much better. Guys have no clue what they're doing down there. It's so refreshing to have someone know exactly what it is that I want, when I want it, and how I want it without explaining myself like I'm a bloody rubix cube. Did you know that there are three holes down there?” She asked me sarcastically as if we weren’t both on track for Med school.

"I resent that! And no…no I didn't know that.” I replied to sarcasm with sarcasm, grinning to myself much like the purple devil emoji. I surely did know all the holes.

"Why is that, Hazland? The resentment issue?”

We took our seats in the half full lecture room at the back of the class as we normally do. Michelle, myself and the rest of the gang have started many an early weekend by sitting in the back of the class, signing the attendance sheet and then leaving when the professors back was turned. I don't think I'll do that this year though. I have too many important tests to take if I want to be a doctor. I mean to pass the UKCAT exam the first time.

"Because I'm not half bad at it. At least I don't think I am... Never got a complaint before and I don't intend to.”

Michelle laughed loudly as the professor walked in, drawing attention our way. I smiled and waved at the onlookers before Michelle chuckled again grabbing my hand to stop me as the professor started to speak.

"Just because you never got a complaint doesn't mean that it wasn't said, Harrow. Nine times out of ten, if you don’t hear a complaint it’s because she cares more about your ego than her orgasm...It’s a shame really.”

I primped my lips at her and we continued to whisper to each other back and forth while we took notes on what the professor wrote on the whiteboard during the lecture. There would be two major papers in this class. Thankfully for the twenty page essay that we'll be assigned to do later on in the quarter we can have a partner. Michelle quickly leaned her head on my shoulder choosing me to work with when the paper isn't even due until the last week of class. I of course accepted her. Not only is she my friend but she's one of those annoyingly clever people. I've honestly never seen Michelle open or purchase one required textbook in all of our three years knowing each other in our university careers, but every time marks are posted her marks are always first class honors.

By the end of class, I ended up giving Michelle a hefty amount of paper for notes in seminar and for the other classes she had throughout the rest of the day. It baffles me as to how she's this born genius, but the most unorganized person that I know at the same time. Her only response to my annoyance was, "At least I have writing utensils.”

"Was that girl this morning your girlfriend?”

"No. I'm an admitting fuckgirl. What’s the saying? If you can’t beat them join them. I refuse to be part of the played group any more. It's our last year after all. I figure it's time to up the ante. Let monogamy go.”

I laughed and shook my head before another question came up. It was always something I wanted to know about lesbians but was too embarrassed to ask. It's not like I have many lesbian friends who I could turn to and get the information that most want to know.  I'm never that embarrassed around Michelle though.

"So, erm, um...who's more dominant, when you're...You know?”

Michelle rolled her eyes at the question and I began to feel like an ass.

"When we're scissoring?" She spoke loudly making my thought about embarrassment wrong.

“Chelle!"

Michelle snickered knowing that she's put a vivid image in my head of her and the mystery blonde. I shake the thought before I get too carried away. I'm not supposed to get aroused with the thought of my best friend and another girl.

"Whoever feels like it whenever they feel like it? It was always a competition with men isn't it?”

“I don’t think it’s so much a competition as it is that some women don't like being on top?” I spoke presenting the idea causing her to pop her lips in disagreement.

“It’s never asked though is it? Sounds like male assumption to me. When I'm with a girl it's just flat out pleasurable for the pair of us. It's not about dominance, Harry. It's about getting off. Scissoring isn't a thing though, by the by.”

I nodded my head up and down still in awe that she of all people had taken a liking to someone who has the same bits as she does. It didnt' bother me like she thought it did earlier and I hope I didn't give her that impression by my line of questioning. Honestly these were just things I always wanted to know. I'm actually more hurt that scissoring apparently isn't a thing...They make it look so pleasurable in porn...I've been bamboozled.

"That's enough questions about me for now. What's happened to you?”

"What do you mean?"

"Harry full offense, but you were a slut when I first met you. You've since depleted in your numbers dramatically, except I'm sure the use of your hand. There were tissues in your bin the other night when I was cleaning the apartment and you don't have a cold…"

"I have h-hay fever Michelle! Allergies kick up at random times... Don't clean my room, I'll do it! It's personal in there. I knew I couldn't find any of my shit for a reason. And hang on-" I knotted my eyebrows playfully at her earlier slut comment.

I admit that I got around, but I moved very slowly. I've only ever had sex with seven or maybe nine girls in my twenty-one years give or take. I don't really keep count. It's not like they were souvenirs or notches on my belt for me to keep track of. All of them were an experience and I'm pretty sure I could name them all if I had to.

The first time happened my last year in 6th form or high school you could say and I didn't even know Michelle then. I got teased for that a bit, but I wasn't in a rush. The maybe other seven or eight happened here at uni but it wasn't as frequent as Michelle makes it out to be. The first two were in my first year when I met Michelle, one of them ended up being my girlfriend over a span of Five months. After that, I only was only ever active with a few more spaced out over the course of two and a half years, and they were regulars. That's not that bad when you think about it, especially for a guy my age at university.

"You were Haz! You had a new girl every weekend.”

"I did not! They were the same few people. They just kind of, alternated? You just never paid them any attention so you thought they were different every time. You're giving me more credit than I deserve." 

Michelle rolled her eyes and continued to tease me.

"Whatever. What's happened then?”

"I don't know what you mean. I got invested in my studies. I have to take the UKCAT this year.”

"When is the last time you fun bit wrestled, willy waggled, played 'hide the helmet', rolled in the hay as they say?" I scrunched my nose and then thought about it and then got frustrated that I had to actually think about it.

“Yet I’m the worst? Who’s this they you speak of?" I asked her, squinting my eyes and tilting my head to the side.

"Everyone says those things when talking about sex. The more mature ones do anyway. Stop dilly dallying and answer the question. When is the last time you put your 'p' in a ‘v'?"

"S-spring? Early spring? Early Spring terms I guess…"

I could feel my cheeks turn red as I answered her question and Michelle bit her cheeks as an odd snorting noise left her nose while she tried to hold in her laughter. It's not that funny.

"You haven't fucked since the spring?" I  laughed more at myself than at the shocked look on her face and shook my head no.

"No, not actual Spring. Early spring terms, so February...My birthday.”

"Harry, we're at the end of August here! You might as well count yourself as celibate. Not that I can blame the girls for dodging you. You still call a vagina a bajingo.”

I chuckled before I spoke, "The word vagina is honestly just as bad as bajingo. And this is coming from someone who has over a hundred words and phrases for sex.”

"A hundred and counting, Harrow.”

I shrugged my shoulders and tried to make the red in my cheeks less noticeable by rubbing my hand over my face. Spring term is when I decided to get more focused. I threw myself into clubs and my books to try to get more into school and buckle down. I'm even president of our graduating class now, prepared to serve on the Alumni council after graduation and I for one am proud of myself for getting this far. The greater half of my first three years here at university was spent at frat parties and in my bed sleeping class time away. I barely know how I made it through this far with decent grades, but I'm grateful that I did. Failure isn't an option.

Michelle stood on tip toe, leaning her head on my shoulder all the while soothingly rubbing my back. When I turned my head to face her, she batted her long lashes at me and made her big brown eyes look like one of those odd cartoon characters whose eyes cover more than half of their face.

"It's okay, Harry.”

"What is?”

"That you haven't gotten any pussy in over six months." Michelle has officially taken a back seat and let Mitchell take the wheel. This is how she got the nickname in the first place.

"Sod off Mitch! It's not like it's a bad thing-“

"Like shit it isn’t."

"I'm busy anyway.”

"With your hand and those bin tissues." I nudged Michelle off my shoulder feigning to be fed up with her masturbation jokes.

"Well if you weren't in my room you wouldn't have seen them! Gosh, you do something one time and then that's what people automatically associate you with!”

Michelle lets out another awkward snort that causes both of us to laugh out loud as we walk through the halls preparing to go our separate ways for the rest of the day.

"That was actually kind of funny Harry. Your jokes are getting a bit better.”

"Yeah, I know. They're funny when they're at my expense.”

"Aw, Hazland. You poor, poor serial masturbator. I'll see you later, yeah?”

"Yeah," I grinned at her before I turned to leave.

"Wait, how much later?” Michelle walked back towards me with one eyebrow raised to the sky as I tried to quickly map out my schedule for the day in my head before spitting it out to her.

"Uh, I get done with classes at half five, then I have a class meeting at six, and then I work at the first year halls front desk from seven to eleven thirty tonight. So I'll probably get home around midnight."

I contently sighed and grinned at Michelle as a look of pure horror took place of her once relaxed features. Her eyes seemed to widen larger after every additional activity that I listed, but I truly enjoyed remaining busy. Michelle's face remained contorted with displeasure before she spoke.

"So you're still coming to the pub later with the lads right?”

"Uh-oh. Chelle I don't know. I kind of forgot all about that. I don't think I will though, it's Monday and-“

"Ah, ah, ah, I'm not taking no as an answer. You promised and it's welcome week anyway. The pub is gonna be live! Just swing by and have one drink.”

“Nahhh I think I’m gonna-”

"One drink.”

“Sit this one out.”

"One drink, Harrow. One. Come on its tradition. You can't just bum out on tradition. This is our last year." She held up her tiny pointer finger to emphasize her point before she spoke again, this time in a small whisper, “One."

“No."

“Please?"

“No."

“Please?” Her lips pouted and her eyes turned sad trying her hand at manipulation.

"No, Chelle. No. Stop looking at me that way...Oh! Gah! Fine. I'll head to the pub when I get off work. One drink. One.”

Michelle bounced on her feet and clapped her hands in excitement making me shake my head before I turned to leave. Before I could make a real step Michelle called my name again.

"Hey, do you think I could borrow a pen? I seemed to have dropped mine."

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

I Need You

A/N: This was found on Pinterest, so if you're the owner, let me know so I can give you the credits.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon X Reader

Word count: 2 K

Requested by anons: 1- I'm like super in love with a certain Daryl Dixon and I was wondering if you could write about them getting into a big argument and they like avoid eachother for a while (super angsty if you care lol) and then Carol and Rick just kinda make yall talk and it ends fluffy? 2 - Can i request a daryl x reader where the reader’s been with the group since atlanta, maybe set during when they’re at the prison?? daryl realizes he has a crush on the reader and just p a n i c s ? and just really sweet fluff????

Summary: After you almost get bit, Daryl loses his mind and lashes out on you. Tired of the constant arguments, the group finds a way to out you two together to try and fix things up.

{The Walking Dead Masterlist}

×

“Yer almost got bit!” Daryl shouts, voice echoing through the prison. “Yer too damn stubborn, yer not goin’ on runs anymore.” He has his back at you as you follow him, struggling to keep his pace.

“I had everything under control.” You complain, ignoring Carol's questioning stare.

You, Daryl, and Maggie went on a run earlier today. Not too far, just to get some more formula for Judith. A walker fell from the roof, and it happened to be on a specific place Daryl told you not to go. The thing's teeth got a little too close to your arm, and Daryl shot an arrow through its head.

“Ya sure did!” He stops, turning around and pointing a finger at you. “If I weren't near ya, I'd be carryin’ ya back here with a freakin’ bite.” His voice gets louder, and you never saw Daryl so... Angry. So pissed. He's scaring you. “Or would ya have me cut her damn arm off? How does that sound?”

“Stop yelling at me!” You burst out, giving his chest a push.

“I'll stop yellin’ when ya understand how stupid and dangerous that was!” He steps forward, towering over you and you never felt so small.

“We needed those antibiotics!”

“Well, I freakin’ need ya. I need ya alive! Alive and well and breathin’.” Daryl shouts, right at your face. But the moment the words come out, he stops, stepping back. He seems confused, taken aback by something. “Screw that, I need a break from savin’ yer ass.” And then, he leaves, walking fast.

Huffing, you turn around, going to your cell.

You take the longest shower you can, washing the sweat and all the disgusting things the dead left on your skin. But most of the time, you were already done, dressed, and dried. You just wanted to be away from everyone. But eventually, you have to walk out. And of course, Carol finds you on your way back to your cell.

“(Y/N), I–”

“Daryl is such an asshole.” You say cutting her off and dropping on bed. “Did you see that? Did you see how he yelled at me? As if he has the right to do so.” Getting back up you pace around.

“I just think–”

“You know what? He can go to hell.” Throwing both hands in the air, you complain. “He and his crossbow, and-and his super hot stare and the stupid angel wings vest. And the bike too. All it. Straight to hell!”

“Aren't you just–”

“Uhg! Damn it.” Crossing your arms, you sigh. “Did you hear him forbidding me to go on runs?” With your hands now on your hips, you stare at Carol. “As if! Who the hell does he think he is? My boyfriend? To hell with him.”

“Will you let me talk?”

“Sure, go ahead.” Shrugging your shoulders, you nod.

But she doesn't say anything, she just takes a deep breath and shakes her head lightly. “Look, why don't you calm down first, and then we talk.” Carol gestured at the bed and you sit down, sighing. “Good... Try to relax and deal with it after a good night's sleep.”

“I could sleep a thousand years and I'd still be mad at Daryl.” You mutter as she leaves, lying on your back with your eyes closed.

You don't know where all this anger comes from, but it's always there, waiting to flow out. You do care about him, maybe too much, but it doesn't mean he gets to yell and boss you around like that. “Asshole!” You shout one last time, arms crossing as you drown in anger.

“I saw it,” Daryl exclaims, pacing around the guard tower, breathing and talking fast. “I saw her dyin’. I saw that thing bitin’ her, tearin’ her flesh.”

“She's fine, Daryl. You don't have to keep thinking about it.” Rick tries to calm him down, both hands raised at the archer.

“No, ya don't understand.” It's useless though. Daryl is a mess. He got into the shower as soon as (Y/N) got out, rubbing the walker's blood out of his skin. But after that, he went straight to Rick because he needs to vent. He needs to yell and understand why he feels so damn scared.

Why he feels like a switch was turned on, lighting up something that was there all along, but only now was brought to light.

Losing anyone from his group, from his family would hurt bad.

But he just found out that losing her would be far worse.

“I her dyin’, man.” He slows down, both hands on his head. “I saw her dyin’ and–”

“You love her.”

“What the hell, Rick?” He snaps, a hand violently gesturing at his friend.

“You might not want to admit it, but it's true. You know it.” Rick nods, a hand casually resenting on his holster. “We all know it since Atlanta. She loves you too.”

Daryl grunts, turning his back at Rick. “Yer crazy. And so is she.”

“You should sit and talk like civilized people.”

“I ain't gonna talk to her. Crazy chick.” He mutters, grabbing his crossbow a bit tighter. “She ain't goin’ on runs anymore. At least not without me.”

“Daryl–”

“Gotta go.” The archer cuts him off, leaving the guard tower at a fast pace.

He didn't like the ideas Rick put in his head.

“Rick wants to make a room for Carl and Judith on the second floor,” Carol says as you climb the stairs next to her. “So we're cleaning up the cells.”

“Alright.” You don't really want to help. Not today at least. The nap you took didn't help much with the last issue, and you're considering going out tomorrow, just to clear your head a bit. “What do you need me to do?”

“We're just setting things up.”

“Mmm.” You mutter, running a hand through your hair as you follow her pace. Carol takes you to the very back of the corridor, to a pretty isolated cell. “You gonna put the kids here? This cell sucks. It's too–” You stop talking when you see Daryl inside, eyes-rolling. “Look, I won't help if he helps.” It sounds childish, but you don't care. You're far too pissed at the man to be near him.

“Look, I don't care if you guys argued.” Rick walks over you, friendly touching your arm. “You two just have to get your shkt together.” And you're suddenly pushed, almost stumbling inside the cell.

“What the hell?” You shout, but the moment you move, Rick pulls the bars close locking you inside. “Rick, drop it. I'm not joking.” Holding the bars, you shoot him and Carol an angry stare. “Open up.”

“There are blankets and dinner will be brought to you,” Carol says, arms crossed. “We did that because it's the only way to force you guys to talk.”

“Yeah. You'll have the whole night to figure out whatever has you both always at each other's throat.” Rick adds, sliding the key into his pocket. “Have a nice time.”

And like that, both jerks leave, talking something you can't hear. Sighing, you lay your forehead on the cold metal bars, not wanting to look at your company for the night.

“Yer can take the bed.” He says after a while.

“Obviously.” You're quick to snap. “It's your fault we're here in the first place.”

“How's that?”

“If you didn't come back from the run making a hell of a show about something that didn't even happen, we wouldn't be locked up in here.” Turning around, with both hands on your hips, you stare at him.

“If ya had listened to me, ya wouldn't have–”

“And why in the hell do I have to listen to you, Dixon? I know my way out there as well as you do.”

“ ‘Cause I jus’ wanna keep ya safe.” He's yelling again, stepping forward.

“Stop acting like I mean anything to you!” With a finger on his face, you move closer to him. You wish you could look intimidating, but being so small, that's very difficult.

“Maybe ya do mean somethin’ ta’ me! How could ya know that if ya never ask!”

“Well, I–” The answer is cut short when your furious brain processes what he just said. Furrowing your eyebrows together, you shrug your shoulders. “What do you mean?”

“Nothin’.”

“Daryl, what do you mean?” Raising your voice again, you follow him as he moves further into the cell. “What would you answer if I ask?”

“I ain't gonna answer.”

“Daryl–”

“I ain't gonna answer!” He shouts again, turning around to look at you.

Taking a deep breath, you sit on the edge of the bed, folding a leg under you. “Do you hate me?”

“What?”

“Do you hate me, Daryl?” Your voice is lower now because you do want to know.

He remains silent for a while, those blue eyes locked on yours. “No.”

“Then why–”

“I can't lose ya.” He bursts out, eyes now looking at the floor. “At that moment back there, I... I saw it happenin’. I saw ya dyin’, and I... I can't lose ya. I can't see ya gettin’ hurt.”

His voice is so low you can barely hear it. You've never seen Daryl so... Scared. Vulnerable. “You can't protect me all the time, Daryl. Accidents happen.”

“I can. I can keep ya safe if ya listen to me.” You're about to protest when Daryl comes to sit next to you, eyes on the wall across the cell. “I know ya can survive out there. But my mind works in a thousand different ways ta’ get stuff done without anyone gettin’ hurt. I need ya ta’ trust me. Ta’ believe I can keep ya safe.”

“But I need you to believe me too. To believe I can do this.” Turning your body towards him, you friendly touches his arm. “Daryl, I... I like you... A lot. And I admire you, I trust you. You taught me so much and I need you to trust me. I promise I'll be more careful, but I need you to–”

“Don't go out there without me.” He suddenly says, voice heavy. “I trust ya. Yer brave and strong. But if ya go out there and I can't keep my eyes on ya... I'll lose my damn mind.”

“Alright.” Nodding, you sigh, smiling a little. “Just don't yell at me again, Daryl Dixon.”

“Yer almost died and I... Damn it, (Y/N), –”

“I like you too, Dixon.” Standing up to your feet, you smile, looking down at him. “You don't have to say if you don't want to, just... Let's get this over with. The world is a freaking mess and if you like me and I like you we should be together.” You can't believe you're saying this, after so long. But it feels good. You feel good, secure. “Just let me know what you want.”

“Ya.”

“Me?”

“Yeah.” He nods, blue eyes locked on yours.

“Alright.” Mirroring his head movement, you clear your throat, cheeks burning. After a few seconds of silence, you walk to the bars. “RICK! CAROL! Daryl and I are dating now, can we go?” You yell, and the low chattering downstairs goes silent.

“Would it be so bad ta' stay locked in here with me for a night?” Daryl asks, and you turn around, biting your lip to hold back a smile.

“Absolutely not.” Shrugging your shoulders, you slowly move to the bed, climbing on and lying down. “I'm actually sleepy and it's cold so it'll be nice to have someone to warm me up at night.”

“Don't push it.”

“I'm not.” Giggling, you feel as he lies down, close enough so his shoulder is touching your back. “Night, D. It was good to sort things out with you.”

“Good night, pretty girl.” He mutters and you smile, eyes closing and sleep easily overcoming you, thanks to the amazing feeling of having Daryl lying next to you.

[nicanario]

this post is a product of its time

tw: discussion of racism, homophobia, misogyny and a short mention of sexual abuse.

ok, this is basically gonna be a very long rambling post about my not fully developed thoughts on the justification many people give to bigotry when talking about the past: "it was a product of its time"

it would be fair to say, with me being a raging SJW socialist scumbag, that I don't think this is a very good argument and is most of the time actually an excuse to not think about the problems inherent to our society, historical or not, and, by extension, the problems with ourselves. but I do think that sometimes, just sometimes, this can be a valid point, or at least one that raises some interesting questions.

I'm going to cite examples from several pieces of media, but fear not, I'll try to make this as accesible as I can.

so, let's take Star Trek: The Original Series (TOS) as our first case study. this show has, correctly, been called progressive by everyone except for clueless people who don't know much about Star Trek's history, Star Trek's crew, Star Trek's cast, or, frankly, Star Trek. because if you ignore the clear, sometimes in-your-face political history and present of the franchise, I don't think you know much about it at all. I do think you can call yourself a fan if you like it, you may have watched every single episode for all I know. but lots of mental gymnastics are needed to ignore the political progressiveness Star Trek has had since its very beginning.

episodes like Let That Be Your Last Battlefield are obviously anti-racist, at least in their intention. but the episode in question really is "a product of its time," and at the very end fails to uphold its ideals. the episode ends with the two aliens (who are LITERALLY. BLACK ON ONE SIDE. AND WHITE ON THE OTHER. BUT IN THE OPPOSITE SIDES.) fighting each other on their devastated planet, and the crew is like, "oh yeah if they both would give up on their hatred that they both share both of them equally" when it has been firmly established that one is the oppressor and the other one is the oppressed.

and that's a lot of Star Trek, not just TOS. even Discovery, one of the most recent series, has done Bury Your Gays (and Trans) TWICE (though both times literally rectified it, which is cool). there are episodes of the franchise that are overtly racist, or misogynistic, etc. TOS is lauded, mostly justifiably, as very progressive, especially for the standards of the time. they put a woman of colour as one of the senior staff, for fuck's sake. of course, when you analyse that same character, as with most of their intentions at being progressive, you'll see that she was relegated and sometimes even outright mistreated when she had the potential to be much more. but, at that time, it was a lot.

I had a friend (emphasis on "had") who, after I told him about TOS's both progressiveness and constant misogyny, told me something like "imagine feminists trying to complain about a show from the 60s." so, with unearned spite, he was, in some way, trying to make the argument that it was a product of its time.

you could say Star Trek, all of Star Trek, is "a product of its time" in the sense that it's not always perfect. uh, yes, I would agree. but that doesn't mean people have to accept it. well, I mean, the show is kinda over, you have to accept it's that way. but you don't have to accept that it's not wrong just because it was a product of its time.

H. P. Lovecraft, as another example, was a greatly influential writer whose works still shape a lot of people's ideas to this day. I have only ever read like one of his stories, so don't expect me to have an opinion on his works. but I can have an opinion on what I know about him as a person (he did have a life outside his writing, after all). and, yeah, he was a huge asshole. if you want to know more in depth about the subject, please watch Hbomberguy's video on him: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l8u8wZ0WvxI

but basically, he was incredibly racist & homophobic. some people might even say, "he was a product of his time." well, there are two possible rebuttals to that. the surface level one, and the one that examines why that argument is wrong to the core.

The Surface Level Response to "it was a product of its time": um, no it wasn't. Lovecraft was more racist than a lot of people even in his time. he wasn't just a guy who carried the racist beliefs of his society like everyone else, he was a reactionary who actively thought and discussed how racist he was, and how right he was for being that way. but that's only applicable to Lovecraft. one can't argue the same for Star Trek: TOS, because TOS did try to be more progressive and more anti-racist than the rest of its society. that leads us to the next response.

The Response that Actually Deals with the Fact that No Matter How Progressive You're Trying to Be, Your Failings Can Still be Criticized: the thing is, trying to excuse Lovecraft's or Star Trek's bigotry because they were "products of their times" misses the fact that racism is still wrong, and some people knew that in those times as well. people from these times weren't all naive or stupid or whatever. they had the capacity for rational thinking. they could stop and think, "hey, maybe what we're doing is wrong." and the fact is, some people did. not perfectly, not to our standars, but they did. everyone could have stopped and think. but most of them didn't, and we can criticize them for it. racism, homophobia, sexism, etc. HURT PEOPLE. horribly. massively.

also, even if you agree with the "it's a product of its time" argument, some people aren't criticising people's or work's bigotry: they're explaining why they don't want to experience it.

The Talons of Weng-Chiang is a 1977 Doctor Who serial, and it's one of the show's more racist stories. almost all the villains are Chinese, every single Chinese person is a villain. there's yellowface, slurs, stereotypes, the Doctor speaking nonsense words instead of actual Chinese, and a general belittling of Chinese culture.

note that I'm neither Chinese nor of Chinese descent. I have been searching for hours for a few posts I've read a while ago (some by people who are of Asian descent) about this episode and I can't find them. sorry.

suffice it to say, even though I love Jago & Litefoot (the audio series and the characters), it's not an acceptable episode at all. but it's also important to remark that, because of it, some people aren't going to want to watch it. sometimes, people aren't saying "the episode shouldn't be this way," which causes others to answer that it was "a product of its time." sometimes, people are just saying, "this is an episode that attacks real people. I don't want to see it. I don't care if it was common in that era to be racist, i don't want to experience it."

however, there is an interesting point to the "it's a product of its time" argument. after all, everything is influenced by its society, for better or worse. and we can't change it anymore. TOS sometimes didn't quite understand the political themes it wanted to explore. Lovecraft was a horrible bigot. Talons was racist towards Chinese folks. and that's that. I don't think we should change the episodes/stories or anything. edit them in any way. that would be, in a sense, changing history. and we wouldn't learn anything from it, about how we can do better.

I think there are two solutions to this:

1. warnings before starting the text: this was done with The Talons of Weng-Chiang. on Britbox, where you can watch Classic Who, this serial has a content warning before the start. that's good.

2. the removal as a whole of the text from some places: I think before applying this one, there should be a lot of thought put into each case. I don't think removing a whole serial of Doctor Who or Lovecraft's stories from anything would be, well, fair. especially on tv episodes a lot more people worked on those, not just the writers and the directors. Lovecraft's writing influenced thousands. we shouldn't erase them or anything. but sometimes, for some cases, we should.

those in the US might seen a Confederate statue being taken down. that is, in a way, a form of removal of a piece of history.

but that is a good removal. statues glorify. one sees a statue and probably thinks "this was a person worthy of admiration." they should be taken down, maybe even with a permanent mark of why this was done (a plaque that reads "a statue of X was here, but he didn't deserve it because of Y" could be put in place of the statues, for example).

another example is the removal from DVDs of the short episode A Fix with Sontarans, a Sixth Doctor minisode that featured Jimmy Savile, a presenter who was later found out to be sexually abusing children.

the removal of that minisode is good, actually. it's not a full episode (it's not even Doctor Who). some might say that's "erasing history" but, like, you can still find it online or information about it if you want. this minisode deserves removal from DVDs and Blu-Rays and whatever more than content warnings. it's not an important part of the show and it prominently features a horrible person who did horrible things during that time.

so, after all that, I have explained why I don't like the "it's a product of its time" argument. it is an interesting point that deserves to be examined, but it's not very good.

I have had this in Drafts for so long I've probably forgot some of the points I was going to make, but eh, what can you do? hope you enjoyed reading this.

bye

[knockknockchicagopd]

❛ WHO'S THE ALPHA? ❜

❚❙ REQUEST BY ANON: hi there💞 can i request where reader and antiono dawson are dating in secret and she's pregnant and now they getting it on with some smut in his office and her father hank catches them with some angst please

❚❙ ANTONIO DAWSON MASTERLIST.

❚❙ WORDS: about 1.9k

❚❙ NOTES: There's no smut because I couldn't imagine the situation of being caught in the act, also keeping in mind that reader is Hank's daughter. There's no way Antonio would take that kind of risk.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that it makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted.

❚❙ GIF credits: to the author.

❚❙ Tag list: @melblacc @rebelwrites @skyofficialxx @sesamepancakes @scarletsoldierrr @mondefantastique @that-chick212 @enbyamaro @anotherfan07 @ocetevasgirl @sophie-writes @destynelseclipsa @jadakiss13. If you want to be added to my tag list, send me a message.

Since you knew this morning that you're pregnant, you haven't stopped thinking about how you are going to say it to Antonio. It's not a big deal, but it means that your father will know it too. And that's a real problem. But the happiness inside you doesn't let you worry now about that. It's been a long year hiding it from him and maybe it's a good way for him to discover it.

Honestly, you can't wait till coming to his house to tell him and, by the time it is, your father must be in your home already. So you decide to drive to the District. Antonio has to be there, since he hasn't text you yet. Leaving your car in the private parking, you walk in by the back door, going upstairs straight to the Intelligence Unit, passing away what they call the cage and the interview rooms. You can't contain the smile curving up your lips when you find your boyfriend very focused on something in his computer, writing down some kind of notes in a report. He doesn't even notice your presence, till you're in front of him.

“Voight left ten minutes ago”. He says, keeping up appearances just in case someone can hear you.

“We're alone”. You reply raising both eyebrows.

Leaning back on his chair to check both sides of his office, he drags his seat away from his desk enough for you to sit on his lap. Infected by your smile, Antonio can't help but draw the same gesture while placing an arm around your waist and his other hand on the back of your head. He's delighted to see you after a long day of paperwork and his ass stuck on his chair. Sometimes he doesn't know if it is worse to be there or to be in the street. But you're his reward, so he doesn't complain.

His lips find yours in a sigh, purring against them when he feels your warm wrapping him. The only thing he needs. His kisses are soft, slow, gentle. Just like his caresses. Just like him all the time. You found the most tender man you could ask for, and you thank God every day of your life. He takes care of you like no one else, with the most minimal details, without asking anything back. You two are made for each other, that's a fact.

“Antonio… baby, I have to tell you something”.

“Can't it wait?” He mumbles pecking your lips once and again, watching him bite his in the short meantime of meeting again.

“Yeah, actually for… like seven months, more or less”.

With his mouth on yours but not moving a single inch, he pulls himself away from you frowning confused. Your boyfriend doesn't last longer than two seconds to put his brain cells to work and connects the dots. His gesture changes from playful and joy to a big pout, as his eyes are filled up with tears.

“Dios mío”.

It's the first time you watch him crying since you know him, for more than eight years. You don't doubt cleaning the tears that fall down by his cheek, as his sobs become a little constant.

“Are you sure?” He asks with a broken tone of voice, tilting his head for a moment. You just nod in silence. “When did… you know?”

“This morning. I'm two months now… Are you… happy?”

“Of course I am, princesa”. Lively laughing, he urges you to stand up to do the same and push you into a tight hug between his arms.

Of course, it wasn't something you two planned. And of course, it wasn't something you two were expecting. But you have never felt this blissfulness in your life. You're in a rollercoaster of emotions right now, just like your boyfriend who doesn't know what to say, nor what to do more than to spread a bunch of kisses all around your face trying to transmit you every single thing he is feeling right now.

Since Laura left him, Antonio thought he would never be loved with so much intensity, and then, you clapped eyes on each other. You know him ever since practically, but that time was different. You had a rare day in the hospital and he had closed a two-months investigation satisfactory. But you were tired like never before, feeling vulnerable and with a mix of emotions roaming your bodies. You came to the District looking for your father, but he was gone to celebrate already, so he offered himself to drive you home. And it just simply happened.

One year after, you're expecting your first baby. And probably not the last.

“Making friends?”

The well known tone of voice of your father interrupts your moment. Your bodies are frozen against the other, putting distance between both slowly. Gulping and turning toward the sergeant, you watch him waving a hand waiting for an answer. The tip of his tongue licks his teeth, arching an eyebrow as his face hardens. You aren't able to say anything, looking at your boyfriend who seems more terrified than you, rubbing his forehead.

“Hm…”

Your father grabs his gun from the holster on his belt, taking the safety off. You know he's just pressuring you to talk, but you block his possible target by putting ahead of Antonio. Just in case.

“Dad… Dad, list—listen”.

“I'm listening, baby girl”. He scoffs, placing his hands crossed under his abdomen.

“We… Uh…” Your heart is racing so fast that you're afraid to collapse, until you feel one of Antonio's hands hold yours, placing himself by your side. “We're together… like… a couple”.

“You're not anymore. Go home and wait for me there”.

“Da—”.

“Don't make me say it twice, (Y/N)”.

“Go. We will talk later, I promise you”. Your boyfriend's whisper doesn't make you feel convinced, but you obey in silence not being another option.

With your arms around your abdomen and your hands trembling tangled on your own uniform, you leave the District looking back every two seconds. It's not like Hank controls your life, but this is a question of honor, and you trust in Antonio. You know they need to be alone to talk some sense into him. But you also know what is going to happen.

Two long hours sitting on your sofa, desperate with your phone between both fingers waiting for a call, a text, anything. You knew it wasn't a good idea to hide it from your father, but to be honest, you didn't know that Antonio and you could go that far. The baby wasn't something planned, it just happened. You haven't even had time to react, but you still have some hope. Hank would never forbid you to continue this relationship now that you're pregnant. Though you know it's not going to be easy for him to assimilate it.

When the lights of a big SUV illuminates the street and the facade of your house, you don't lose time getting up from your seat to run to the entrance, opening the door and waiting for your father to say something as he steps out of his car. He doesn't look happy, not at all. You've lied to him all this time and you're aware of how hurt his ego is right now. It's going to cost you more than a sorry to bring back his trust in you. Licking your bottom lip in silence, you can't help but go downstairs to meet him on his path.

Hank has his hands kept in the pocket of his jeans with a rough and disappointed gesture in his face. You aren't sure what to say, being just a couple steps away from him.

“Maybe Antonio tripped and broke his nose”. He just says with feigned innocence, causing you to arch an eyebrow and cross your arms on your chest. “He's in the Chicago Med. You should go”.

Your father is about to pass you away to the inside when you stop him by a hand on his chest, pushing him back to face you.

“You're still my favorite man on earth”. You mumble bowing your head down for a second, till he holds your hand to place a kiss on the back of it.

“That's why he isn't dead, princess”.

“Isn't it because I am pregnant, and he is the father?” Not trying to contain a soft grin, you grab his other hand to lace your fingers with his and place them on your belly, knowing it's going to work.

“His grandfather is more than enough”. Hank replies squinting at you, before tilting his head to press a kiss on your forehead.

Leaving the front of your house straight to your car, he waits for you outside till you abandon your neighborhood to take the highway and reach the hospital faster. You're ashamed, you can't lie, but if your father didn't have a single scratch means that Antonio didn't hit him back, which is good. He still knows who the alpha is. You can go against the world, but not against Hank Voight. That's a fact. Everybody in Chicago knows it.

Not caring too much about how you park your car, your legs move quicker to the Emergencies being received by Will, who is trying to not laugh pressing both lips against the other. Making you a sign with a silent congratulations, your eyes travel around the open doors till finding Antonio sitting on a stretcher with his head bowed down, swinging his feet.

Knocking on the white metallic frame, you stick your head out of it with a sweet smile on the corner of your lips. “Need a ride back home, inspector?”

“May I need a nurse too”.

His brown eyes have a shine that only appears in them when he sees you after a long, long day; when he's about to be hugged by you, kissed, touched, loved. Putting down from the stretcher, you help your boyfriend to wear his jacket and zip it up over his torso.

“You okay?” Feeling your cheeks burning because of the shame, you put both hands on his neck to take a look of his nose covered with a gauze.

“He just threatened me and punched me. Honestly, I thought he would bring me to a remote place to make me dig my own grave. I think it did quite well, don't you?”

Antonio's positivism makes you laugh, nodding with your chin. Holding your arms and taking them to his mouth, he kisses both with so much care and tenderness, before tilting his head to catch your lips between his. At first, it's weird and awkward for you to be kissen for him in public, after a year hiding it. But it only lasts a short second. You can't wait to stop containing your impulses for hugging him and holding his hand and calling him amor in front of all; not in front of your dad, obviously. You're too young to die.

[pashfoxx]

Elements AU

Pre-hotchreid

Before reading, I want to say that this is the first work that I publish, and that it has more than a thousand words, also that my first language is not English and that I am sorry for any misspelling

you can know some more things about this au here

Fire and ice have always been considered polar opposites.

But people are wrong are not polar opposites. In fact they are quite close.

Aaron hotchner was born into an upper middle class family, his father was a renowned lawyer, and although his element was air, the man was cold as ice, with hurtful and icy words. And an even worse right hook. Aaron always believed that man should never have been a father.

Finally when Aaron was fourteen years old, the fury and helplessness that he felt towards his father for every blow and kick he received from him. He turned too much, a blast of fire breaking through from his forearms, with which he had been trying to cover himself from the blows. The flames burned his father's hand, Aaron opened his eyes, and saw his father grab his right hand, which was red and with what Aaron believed could be second and third degree burns, Aaron heard his father murmur a "bloody monster" Before leaving the room, at a hurried pace. Aaron got up feeling strangely good, the pain that he felt in his body did not matter to him, in return a sick feeling of satisfaction lodged in his chest, when he saw how his father had fled.

It was not until the next morning that Aaron finally understood how much things had changed after that night, The fire was not good, it was destructive, dangerous and unreliable, a week after what happened, Aaron was on his way to boarding school far from Virginia.

Over time, Aaron learned to never use or say the element of him, because then, people would walk away, just like all the people who had known.

The years passed and finally there are only ashes of that teenager fearful of his father, in return this Hotch is serious and stoic, who made his way through the court and the FBI as if he were a bullet, Hotch who only needed to snap his fingers to be able to create magnificent flames, but also very dangerous. Although Hotch has never used them. Because at the end of the day Hotch is just a forest fire, a forest that burns itself.

He hates it.

Spencer Reíd is the son of a literature teacher, who is also a paranoid schizophrenic. When Spencer was ten years old his father abandoned them, after that Spencer barely managed to earn enough money to keep him and his mother alive, and to buy some of his mother's expensive medications.

That coupled with the fact that Spencer was a Genius in a las vegas public school, just complicates everything.

Things got worse when the soccer team tried to strip him naked, and tie him to the goalpost. Spencer only remembered closing his eyes tightly and thinking that he wanted that to end no matter how, when he opened his eyes again, everything was covered in ice the football team with frost all over his body the rope in the captain's hand completely frozen. Spencer didn't think twice, she grabbed his shirt and bag and then ran out of the place.

Spencer had read all about the elements, he knew that the people who controlled the ice, along with the people who controlled the fire, were the minority in society. Spencer had learned the hard way, that people hated people with the element of ice. Ever since he awakened the element of him he had been accused of having no feelings, having little empathy and occasionally being a psychopath. Did people know that he misused the term?

Things really got better for Spencer, when he met Jason Gideon, and later he joined the FBI. In the FBI they were not obliged to tell the element of him, of course this was in the file of each agent, but you were not obliged to tell your element to another agent if you did not want to. Spencer really appreciated it, because the people of the water element avoided him like the plague when he found out that he controlled ice.

This was how he ended up creating a three-step plan so that no one would find out, number one, avoid physical contact, his body temperature could become below zero, it was practically a miracle that no frost formed on his body, number two, be careful with liquids, you still have problems so that they do not freeze when you touch them, and number three, never use your element.

And everything was going well he had friends, for the first time since college, of course he still missed Elle but he still has Gideon. But then the Hankel case happens.

Nothing is good anymore. Gideon left, he only left him a letter, but that does not prevent it from hurting less, the man abandoned him just like his father.

This in the bathroom he just injected dilaudid, he probably missed the dose because he does not feel his legs and everything is blurry.

He can't go on like this anymore. This will kill him, he doesn't want to die, not even at least. With shaky legs he got up off the ground. A single thought in his head.

He must get rid of the dilaudid.

The next seven days are like hell on earth.

When the worst of the withdrawal is over, Spencer forces herself to go back to work, she still had a few days off, but staying in his apartment hasn't helped her stop thinking about the dilaudid. His hands have a slight tremor, and his control over his element has diminished, causing him to freeze the odd thing in his path.

Spencer has probably been trying to complete this file for a little more than half an hour, she knows that Morgan and Prentiss have already noticed, but Spencer prefers to ignore the worried looks that they both give her, her eyes wander to the pencil in her hand, Note how the frost has completely spread over it, and is starting to do the same with the file.

Spencer quickly gets up from his desk, he can't allow that to continue happening, no matter how he just wants it to stop, he's fed up with not even being able to complete his paperwork, enters the bathrooms, and goes to the sink that you always use it, just touch it, it starts to fill with frost, you want it to stop, it doesn't matter how, you just want it to stop.

Reid had always intrigued Hotch. Since he met him, the young man had attracted him, there was something about Spencer, that caught Hotch's attention. At first Aaron worried that someone as young as Reid would see such bloody scenes, like the ones Aaron had seen over the years, soon Reid showed them that this was not a problem for him, and Aaron learned that while Reid could be extremely young, he was also extremely mature and contrary to many of the young agents if he respected orders.

The team had a no-profiling rule, Hotch knew that. Hell, he had been one of those who proposed her, but he couldn't help it he knew Reid was hiding something from them, he wanted to believe that he would tell them when he felt comfortable. Gideon wouldn't have pulled all those strings, if it was something dangerous.

It only took a hug for Hotch to notice. Reid had held him when they found him with Hankel, the way he felt the cold creep across his normally warm skin, a sensation he hadn't felt since he was a teenager.

It all fell into place slowly, how Reid looked nervous when someone tried to touch him, how Reid would look confused when Morgan tasted his coffee and complained that it was too sweet and icy.

After that he couldn't help but notice the details, every single thing Reid would do differently, to keep it a secret from him.

Then when he saw the young man get up from his desk and practically run to the bathrooms. Hotch worried, thought for a moment before getting up and heading to the bathrooms in search of Spencer.

When he opened the bathroom door, Aaron saw Spencer looking at himself in the mirror, firmly grasping the hand wash, the young man did not notice his presence at the moment, more concerned about how, the frost was expanding through the mirror and the hand wash, When Spencer finally noticed Aaron's presence, she was quick to hide her hands behind her back.

- I - I can explain it - the panic was noticeable in Reid.

- Spenc ...

- I know it's not normal, that's why I hide it, people don't usually trust people like me, I'll understand if you want me to transfer ...

- Spencer! - Hotch exclaimed again, to get the young man's attention.

Spencer finally forced himself to look at Hotch, he saw how his boss did not seem angry, the man extended his palm and from one moment to another small flames appeared in the lines of his fingers,

Spencer looked at him with surprise written on his face, he always believed that Hotch's element was earth or air, in addition to the fact that the chances, that two people, with some of the rarest elements, would work in the same place were extremely low. .

- I would never ask you to transfer, Spencer you are a fundamental part of this team, besides we would all miss you - Hotch said looking at the young man who was hugging himself - you don't know? He - he added belatedly, although he only received a small nod from Spencer.

Hotch made the flames disappear from his hand and took a step toward Spencer, bringing his hand closer to Spencer before quickly pulling it away.

- can I touch you? - Hotch asked, receiving another nod from Spencer, Hotch approached to wrap him in a hug.

"Maybe you don't think so right now, but you're important to all of us Spencer," Aaron said.

Spencer's arms wrapped Hotch in a soft hug. The fire hurt Spencer, and the ice made Hotch feel weak.

But it was worth it.

Hotch observed, as a slight smile, made its way across Spencer's face, who seemed to be much calmer.

Yes, it was definitely worth it.

[jamilelucato]

warning [G.W.]

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Words: 3.362

Requested: yes

I personally like the idea of George with an outcast Slytherin who’s friends with the other houses

Summary: George has a crush on a Slytherin girl that doesn’t seem as evil as his twin think she is.

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this one and I actually liked it? A lot? I don’t know why I’m using question marks, I’m just genuinely surprised. MY GIF!

+ (y/h/c) is “your hair colour” and (y/e/c) is “your eye colour”

George Weasley always thought y/N y/L/N was attractive. The first time he saw her, he was up in his broom, about to play Quidditch against Slytherin, and his eyes just locked with hers, even though she was far away.

She was sitting in the bleachers with a very green t-shirt, screaming, although George couldn't hear her. She seemed excited, her (y/h/c) hair swaying all around.

After that match — that Gryffindor won, much to y/N's disappointment — he knew he had to find you around the school. At first, he didn't believe you were a Slytherin. He only saw you two times after the first time he saw you, and both of those times you were not wearing a uniform, but talking to Hufflepuffs, so he just concluded that you were just friends with one of the Slytherin's players, instead of from that house yourself.

It was only when Fred, his twin, walked in the common room, complaining, that he found out the truth.

"I can't believe it! How dare that stupid snake...!" Fred walked in shouting, not caring if anyone there was listening. "Stupefy me! How dare she!"

George decided to ask his brother what was happening since he didn't see Fred that shaken in a very long time.

"A stupid girl from Slytherin stupefied me! In front of everyone!" outcried his twin, sitting down next to George.

"Who?" George asked, no longer interested in his homework. Not that he ever was, to begin. "Why?"

"I don't recall her name... she's that weird one, shy. From the fifth year," Fred said, struggling to remember something remarkable about the girl, "she has (y/h/c) hair and (y/e/c) eyes."

Fred had to say no more; George immediately knew who he meant. It could only be her if he could recognise you just with some words. He wouldn't have described you as weird, but he understood that, given the circumstances, his brother would have never complimented you.

"She's a Slytherin?" George asked, still surprised. He didn't know your name — that was a problem he still had to figure out — but knowing you were a Slytherin made things a little easier.

Except it didn't. A Slytherin? George fancied a girl from the worst house, a girl that now had attacked his twin? He couldn't believe it.

"Haven't you heard what I just said?" Fred was slowly calming down. "Anyway, I was there, you know, offering our newest product for the kids — and you know, it wasn't even for her!"

George was trying hard to follow his brother's explanation and picture you in the middle of the scene.

"And the instant the Ravenclaw little boy ate it, of course, as we planned, he started turning yellow, but like, really yellow, and she just snapped!" Fred continued, gesturing with his hands now and then. "She asked me to reverse it, but I said the spell would eventually go away naturally. She didn't like it; she took out her wand and stupefied me! I didn't have time to do anything!"

George stared at his brother, shocked with what he had just heard. The girl from his dreams, attacking his brother just because of a little joke, and she was a Slytherin. The day was already bad because he hadn't seen you, but now, it was worse.

"George, say something," Fred called his brother attention.

"Huh? Fred, are you sure there wasn't something more?" he asked, not wanting to picture you as the bad guy. "Did you force the boy to eat it?"

"What? No, I'd never, brother!" Fred answered, getting up. "Doesn't matter, I'll never sell things around the Sytherins's common room door. Too dangerous."

Fred left, complaining to everyone he found in his way about the Slytherin girl, but George stayed on the couch, still surprised with the new information he had just got. What would he do now? At least, he was glad it was just a crush, and he could manage to get over it since he even didn't know your name.

He would manage. Yeah.

***

Oh boy, was George wrong!

Trying to forget about you was one of the hardest things he had ever tried doing. Firstly, because Fred didn't stop whining to him about you — he couldn't get over the spellcasting — and he wanted to plan a prank against you. Secondly, because, now that he knew where to find you, around the Slytherins, he seemed to see your face more and more, all over the school.

Fred was the one that found your name out, much to George's worries. Having a face was hard to get over, but having a name to the face was ten times harder.

"y/N y/L/N," Fred said, before sitting down, forcing George to diverge his eyes from you, sitting at the other side of the room.

"What?"

"The Slytherin girl we're goin' to prank. That's her name. Angelina just told me," explained Fred, filling his plate with everything offered for breakfast.

"Do we have to?" George just wanted to get over you, and the only way he was going to be able to do that was forgetting about your existence, and Fred made it more arduous.

"Do I need to remind you—"

"— that she stupefied you," George interrupted his brother, tired of hearing about it, "Yeah, I know it."

"We all know it," added Ron. "You know, for someone who hated being defeated by a girl, you do a horrible job at hiding it. Look at Malfoy, he doesn't tell everyone about the time Hermione punched him."

"I wasn't defeated!" shouted Fred, stuffing his mouth with food.

But the table didn't seem convinced.

***

Y/N was playing gobstones in the yard when George caught her eye. He seemed to be doing it a lot lately, and she could imagine what was coming for her. Probably Fred and George's worst revenge prank ever.

However, she didn't look away. She let her eyes stare into George's, wondering how long would they both be able to hold it.

Her Hufflepuff friend called her name, but she didn't break the eye contact, because she felt deeply curious. She was sure that it was George and not Fred because Fred wouldn't have been able to read her so well as the other twin was doing. He wasn't angry; he didn't look at her like he wanted her dead. Instead, his stare seemed to send chills all over y/N's body, and she wondered why.

"y/N? Are you still there?" her friend called again, "'cause I just won."

You shook your head.

"I'm sorry, what?" you asked, finally breaking the eye contact with George.

"Never mind," sighed the friend, knowing it was a lost cause to wait for y/N's attention when she was spacing out like that.

***

"Ok, so listen," Fred started, jumping in George's bed just before they went to sleep. "I want to give y/N a taste of her own medicine."

George had to blink a couple of times before focusing on his twin.

"You will stupefy her?"

"Exactly!" Fred was happy that his twin understood him so fast.

"How are you gonna do it though?" George asked, supporting his back in the headboard.

"Well, I was planning to corner her after dinner tomorrow," his twin was talking a lot excited about his idea as if he had spent the whole day thinking about it.

Fred went on about how he had noticed that you were generally the last to leave the feast — George had observed it too. It appeared that you had a lot of friends in other houses but was never brave enough to approach them when their house table was full, so you waited for it to get less crowded before sitting down with your friends.

George tried to persuade his brother to give up — it appeared to be too much work just to revenge on a girl that was trying to defend a Ravenclaw — but Fred didn't want to give up. And so, they went to bed with it all planned, but George couldn't sleep.

He kept on thinking that he should warn you about it, and if that was the case, then he needed to talk to you, and that was going to be a test to his anxiety.

***

At breakfast in the next day, George kept staring at you, waiting for something to happen, some situation that would force you two to talk, but that never happened.

He thought he would be able to talk to you during classes, but he was a year older than you, so the chances of you two meeting were practically zero. He had to get his ass to follow you and corner you himself.

The only problem was: he didn't think he was brave enough for that.

Nonsense! You are in Gryffindor for a reason, he thought, before breathing hard and gathering the nerves to find you.

Once classes were over, he had some free minutes without his brother — with the excuse of going to the restroom before dinner.

He wandered around, taking ten minutes to find you.

You were sitting in the yard, with a bunch of other students around and you all talked excitedly. George noticed that only you were a Slytherin; the rest of the group were Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, and there was even a boy from Gryffindor — he recognized it to be Neville, a friend of Ron.

He swallowed, feeling each nerve ending tingle. Warn you was the right thing to do but did he have to? You knew how to defeat his brother the first time — perhaps you could do it a second time.

But then, there was no escape. Your gaze met his since George was still standing across the yard. He thought that you mistook him initially, or at least that's what it looked like since you stared at him angrily.

Gently, your expression relaxed, and George hoped it meant that you knew he was him, not Fred. He scratched his head as he walked towards you.

"y/N, I'm sorry to disturb, but..." George felt his cheeks turning red as he spoke, "could I talk to you for a minute? In private?"

You looked around, at your friends, who seemed to care less about George's presence and agreed to talk to him.

"What's it?" you asked, keeping your voice low even though you two had walked away from your group of friend.

"I wanted to warn you about my brother, Fred," started George, diverging from your eyes, scared that he would not be able to tell everything if he kept looking into your (y/e/c) eyes. "He wants to stupefy you after dinner."

You looked distrusted at him.

"Why should I believe you?"

George sighed. "I wouldn't lie about this. Unlike my twin, I don't think you deserve his revenge.," he said, still avoiding her eyes. "I feel like you were just protecting your friend, I don't think you wanted to hurt Fred."

"You don't?" she asked, her eyes sparkling as his eyes met hers.

It felt as if they were looking at each other for the first time. The chills were there, this time stronger, if possible. George's red hair fell in front of his eyes, and y/N had to resist the urge to reach it.

His eyes wandered over all her body; for the first time in years, that didn't make her feel self-conscious. If anything, she liked knowing he was contemplating her. Seeing the smile that appeared in his lips only made her like it even more.

"You don't think I was just mean to your brother?" you asked again. "I am a Slytherin, after all."

"Do you want me to think you were just a bad girl?" George replied, raising a brow. Although it was supposed to be a rude question, y/N could only think how hot it was to have George calling her bad girl.

"No, 'course!" you quickly said. "I'm glad your first thought was that I was defending my friend," you played with your hair, nervously, and that caused George to feel a different kind of excitement he was not expecting. "Toby is a first-year Ravenclaw, but I know him since he was a baby — our moms are friends."

George raised his brows and pressed his lips together, absorbing the information.

Y/N couldn't be evil if you were friends with all houses and probably was your mom. That made his heart warm. He could like you. Not only he could, he already did. Who was he kidding? Even with his twin complaining at his ear, George kept fancying you.

"Well," he faked coughed, "that was what I came to tell you. I have to go before Fred thinks something is wrong."

You agreed, shaking your head up and down as he walked away, but you couldn't just move. George could be gone, but now you had to think of a way to protect yourself.

***

Fred and George waited, even when Angelina, Ron, Lee and Harry had left. They stayed sat, pretending to be still eating. The Great Hall wasn't completely empty when y/N finally got up from the Hufflepuff table and headed out.

"Are you sure about it, Freddie?" George asked as he and the twin got up.

"It will be simple, and it won't hurt her, just humiliate, like she made me feel," Fred said, and George wondered if he said that to convince his brother or to convince himself.

Although George watched you every minute of his day and he felt like he knew you better than Fred, his older twin had spent some time watching you as well, and it seemed that your shyness and kindness could have melted his heart.

They walked out to find y/N leaning against one of the pillars to the left of Hall's big door.

"Looking for me, Weasleys?" you used the plural, in a way to protect George for his confidential.

Fred worked fast, his wand was already in his hand as he cast "Stupefy!" but y/N was faster. "Depulso!" she shouted.

Fred got thrown meters away from y/N and his brother, and only your laugh George heard as students that we're walking away from the Great Hall came closer to take a look.

Professor Snape walked out of the Hall at the same moment Fred got up, pointing his wand to y/N.

"You, three!" Snape shouted angrily. "Detention!"

"But, Professor," George tried to intervene.

"I don't want to hear, Mr Weasley," interrupted Snape and then he faced y/N. "You, Miss y/L/N, I'm greatly disappointed."

"I'm sorry, Professor Snape, I didn't mean to hurt Fred Weasley..." you explained, lying a bit, as you lowered your face.

But Snape continued: "Next time, don't get caught."

And the Professor left, leaving y/N to exchange confused looks with the twins.

"Was he glad that I hurt you?" you asked, looking at Fred who tried to fix his clothes.

"You didn't' hurt me!" he debated, but y/N ignored.

She was now facing George, who didn't know what to say. Everything had happened so fast, George was still processing it.

"See you at detention, then," y/N said, sighing.

George almost raised his hand to wave her good-bye, but he remembered his brother was watching everything, and he was not supposed to know about his crush.

***

The night of detention had arrived.

George had spent all his time since the confrontation trying to be apart from his twin, so he could meet you in the corridors and maybe exchange a word. But every time he saw you, you seemed to be having fun with your friends, and he with Fred.

Fred appeared to have learned his lesson, and he didn't show any intentions of revenge. He hadn't told anyone about the confrontation that went wrong, and that was a first. George was glad — he believed it meant his brother wasn't so angry at you.

You three met at Professor Minerva's office, and she didn't seem happy about it. She was used to the boys getting detention, but y/N's presence was a first.

"Well, now that all of you are here, let me assign your jobs," she said, walking around the room. "I can't let you two together, as I've learned, but I don't have three assignments..." McGonagall was working hard to think of a solution. "Did you three fight, or was it just two?"

"It was me and Fred, Professor," you answered, happy to be useful since you were sad of having disappointed more than one teacher already.

Professor McGonagall exchanged looks with Fred and y/N.

"Then, y/N, you and George go to the trophy room, to clean them out. I believe Mr Filch has left a set of cleaning gadgets for you there," she started, "now, you, Mr Weasley, come with me."

George waved his brother good-bye as he and y/N walked away from the room.

"Do think Filch will be there watching us?" you asked, trying to make conversation, "He always gives me the creeps."

"In the way McGonagall spoke, I don't think he will," George said, almost touching your arm as you two took a turn to find the trophy room.

When you got there, you two started focused, cleaning everything with attention. Neither seemed ready to talk, although George had no idea what to talk about with you.

"So, huh, I forgot to thank you," you said, raising your head from the trophy to find George's face in the middle of the room. "For tipping me about Fred."

"No problem," George said, looking to find your face as well. "To be fair, it was quite nice seeing his face when you sent him away."

"He wasn't mad, was he?" you asked, worried.

"Oh, he was," George said, without thinking. He, then, noticed your concerned face, "but I think he will stay away from you from now on."

You tilted your head as you slowly came closer to him. It was involuntary; you felt the gravity pulling you two closer.

"He acknowledges you are a powerful witch, I guess."

You giggled, tossing a lock of hair behind your ear. George's eyes followed the lock's trajectory — he noticed he grew fond of your hair.

"And you?" you asked, with a coy smile.

"Me?" George gulped, tilting his head in your direction.

"Do you acknowledge I'm a powerful witch?" you used of his words as you fluttered your eyelashes at him.

"I never doubted it," answered George, staring deep into your eyes, and embracing the flirtatious atmosphere that you two were walking in.

It was your time to feel a bit embarrassed. Could he be speaking the truth? You wondered.

"You're a powerful wizard yourself, George," you replied, biting your lip, causing him to focus on your mouth. And now he was staring at it, George didn't want to stop. He wanted to have it, and so, he decided to go for it.

He slowly leaned in, as you gulped nervously. His lips met yours, soft at first. A delicate encounter, but then, a rush — you both wanted more. His hands found their way around your body, and fastly he raised you and positioned you sitting on the available table, as one of your hands tossed aside the trophies that were on it — they all fell to the floor.

Your left hand found his hair, and you didn't want to take it out of there. He seemed to like the touch as well because he started biting, softly, your lips, and that send shivers all around your body.

He was about to lay you down on the table when the door opened, surprising you two.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake! Break it, now!" shouted an angry Professor McGonagall, and you felt your face get redder than George's hair.

Behind her, Fred was having the time of his life — he couldn't stop laughing.

"I didn't know detention could be fun!" he said, winning an angry frown from his twin.

You and George stared at each other embarrassed, but most of all, regretting getting caught. But that didn't seem like that would be the last time.

[british-bombs]

( TO BEAT THE DEVIL ) An introduction.

FORMAT: teleplay / novel

GENRE: horror, coming of age

LOGLINE: An interning demon drives a pair of twins cursed with obedience and honesty to kill their cult leader.

THEMES: Trauma, sexual abuse, domestic violence, victim blaming (particularly self blame), peer pressure, redemption, internalized homophobia, and religion.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Sexual abuse, violence, domestic and otherwise, manipulation, and death

EXTENDED SUMMARY, CHARACTERS, EXCERPT AND NOTES:

Carmine can taste it. They're hiding something. Humans have such a silly smell about them, turns an overwhelming shade of sweet when they've made a demonic deal. All four of these children have. He just can't figure out what, and more importantly: why.

It keeps him on the surface longer than he should be. Long enough that Lilith sees it fit to send him a fucking trainee? And if that wasn't insult enough, the trainees one of the eternal teenage know-it-alls.

He's already got four annoying toddlers to trail, and now there's one tugging his hand in the new generation's approach to soul-catching like Carmine isn't one of the best employees they've had since the turn of the century.

And somehow, to make it all worse, the trainee is good at it. And if Carmine wants to keep his spot at the top of the food chain, he's going to have to get the soul of that dumb bitch who's running the joint.

But, of course, the kid gets him murdered??? And then has the nerve to figure out how what those toddlers managed to stick their syrupy, grubby little hands in. What gives?

But two can play at that game. If he can't get the dead guy's, then he can have the next best thing.

Jesse has lived just under seventeen years, but he's ready to check out. Or he was. But of course, some selfish bastard had to come along and say you can't ever act on those thoughts again! Don't think like that!

And then the hole kept getting deeper.

Six feet deep, to be exact. He's got blood on his hands and no matter how fucking good it felt to cut off the air supply to the God who stole his innocence, it's probably not going to feel very good to watch his mom suffer through a highly publicized trial with headlines like CHILD MURDERS HIGH PROFILE BENEFACTOR!!!

Oh. Well. Billy did say if he really got in that deep, he could always strike up a deal. His soul, everything wrapped up in a nice little bow, sweet as Easter Sunday. But until then? Yeah, he's content to live in a stupid fucking Sherlock Holmes novel.

CHARACTERS:

JESSE NIX: A soon-to-be seventeen-year-old saddled with the curse of obedience. Unlike miss-lucky-Ella-Enchanted, he wasn't told to give away his mommy's locket. No-siree. He was told to give away his virginity. In his opinion, the only appropriate payback is a life. Maybe, one day, if he really snaps, he'll dig up Pastor Dallin's corpse and chop his dick off. Really stick it to the man. If he doesn't go to prison first, anyway. (spotify playlist)

NANCY NIX: Also a soon-to-be-seventeen-year-old, though saddled with the curse of honesty. It's really not so bad. That is, until she stumbles across the sight of her dearest little brother covered in blood for no reason he can push through his metal braces. She refuses to believe he did it on purpose. If only she could convince the cops without sounding like a nutjob. (spotify playlist)

BEVERLY PINES: A seventeen-year-old cursed to feel the pain of those around her. It makes for some fun family dinners with a sadistic mom and a missing dad. Distance nulls pain, but she can't ever seem to make it past state lines before her mom gets wise and breaks one of her ribs. Oh, well. She's got a bone to pick with psychos like her mom. Apparently, Pastor Dallin was one of them. She doesn't think she could stomach the pain of killing someone, so next best thing, right? (spotify playlist)

CLARICE ANDERMANN: Also a seventeen-year-old cursed to be constantly in motion. It's honestly not that bad. She's Yale bound! Perks of having endless energy for everything to cheerleading to debate contests, though she can't imagine her heart's going to keep up like this. It's already hanging on by a thread. That thread is named Beverly Pines and like hell she's letting it go to prison for nothing. (spotify playlist)

BILLY: An annoying fuck trapped in a seventeen-year-old's body. No curses. The opposite, in fact - blessed with a silver tongue and a keen sense of deduction. It takes him all of two hours to put together (almost) everything about Jesse Nix. He just didn't think he could push the repressed little fuck to murder that quick. (All the more power to him, though. Prison always makes people desperate and paranoid, AKA: an easy mark.) (spotify playlist)

MAVIS EVANGELISTA: Former housewife turned grieving widow turned revered prophet. If she got a little help from someone downstairs, then who's to know? They love her all the same. Now, she really, really wants to see how far she can push them all. (spotify playlist)

CARMINE: Just a helpful guy, passing through. Really doesn't need anything, just a little pledge, is all! And then? Then, you can have everything you want, fame, money, power, love. The sky is your limit. The water's fine! (Ignore the piranhas, they'll wait till you're dead to eat your face, just a little bit.) (spotify playlist)

NOTES:

- all of these characters have equal importance within the story.

- personal tag system for story stuff is '#tbtd' and character tags are just first name (ex: '#jesse')

- this is kind of really fucked up. the only reason i wrote it was cause i was thinking damn ella enchanted really is NOT fucked up enough. like i don't think the author of ella enchanted went dark enough. a locket? that's it? a bitch move. i'm taking it to straight murder and sexual abuse

- jesse transgender, no character straight except evil people

- i'm not entirely sure how tag lists work but i think i get the gist of them?? idk if you want rb or ask or something </3

EXCERPT:

There were moments, where she was reminded just how different this voice was, how violent.

She had found Lynette, making off with her makeup that she’d spent her own allowance on. Mavis doted on her and, from what she’d seen of other families, everyone else looked upon their little siblings with contempt, despising the burden they dragged along with their existence.

But Mavis adored Lyn. When she'd been born, her mother had come home with a tiny thing bundled in pink fleece. Mavis had taken to Lyn on sight, thinking Lynette’s headband adorned with a baby blue bow was the universe’s way of telling her happy birthday! as reparations for the ones her mother had missed while she was enduring her week long stay at the hospital.

But that mindset was a disease, one that had finally caught up with her. Had Lynette not become her burden? She was nineteen, busting her back day and night so Lynette wouldn’t have to, that she might avoid the life that Mavis had lived in those blissful six years where it was her and her alone.

Had her mother not tampered down her birthday celebrations since Lynette’s was so very close and they couldn’t afford double anyway? Had Lynette not deprived her of the teenage experiences she heard her classmates speak of, going out and tasting alcohol for the first time while Mavis followed a ten year old Lynette house to house so she could complain of a stomach ache after she’d devoured all the candy on the walk back home?

And now this! Stealing her few precious items, the few things she bothered to save up for, few things she bothered to keep hidden. For what? It wasn’t as though she was ever going to have the courage to ask a peer of her’s out. She was a thief.

One Mavis had made the mistake of taking care of. She should’ve embraced those stirrings of resentment, should’ve left Lynette to her own devices since Lynette didn’t appreciate anything, or even half of what Mavis afforded her. She should’ve left her out in the cold that Christmas. How could anyone have known? It wasn’t as though corpses could talk--

She had let Lyn take off with the whole case, as if to remind herself when she woke up the next morning what she had considered, how vile the thought was.

Lyn had never done anything unforgivable to Mavis. Mavis didn’t suppose she ever could. It was no fault of Lyn’s she didn’t understand what it was like to live with their father. How could she? It was a topic off limits to Lyn by both Mavis and their mother. After all, a child born blind doesn’t know until it’s pointed out to them.

And yet, she found guilt hard to summon. She did, but the speed at which it came, the strength, made her uneasy. What had happened to the girl she was? Lyn had been her world. What had changed?

Then, dully, that other voice, entirely of its own volition, said You did.

[atsunflower]

Rated: SFW

Author notes: fucking finally, I'd say. Sorry it took me so long to post it after I decided to revamp this series. Here goes my belated 300 special med student!Kuroo. Please note that this is written based on the med school model we have here, in wich we get the MD degree right away, without the pre-med division they have in USA.

PS: DAI¹ stands for diffuse axonal injury, a type of brain damage caused by violent shakes (acceleration/deceleration/shaken baby syndrome) of the head. No worries, banging your head against a hard surface isn't supposed to give you it. If you get confused by any medical terms, pls hmu!!

Warnings: me trying to be funny. Cursing (reader swears like a sailor here).

I – Lehninger principles of biochemistry

Previous || Next

Your head was throbbing. The professor's voice dragging through your ears made the discomfort you felt even bigger.

The first class of the day have barely started and you were already regretting leaving your bed.

You let out a shuddering breath while your fingers found their way to your temples. You massaged the area, trying to ease the headache.

"You look like shit" the voice came from your right. Shirabu gave you a sideways glance before going back to his notes. "Let me guess, your neighbor again?"

"Yeah, the bastard was up all the night. I still can hear his bed pounding into the wall and the girl trying to muffle her voice" You groaned.

"Ew. Gross" The blonde's face contorted in a grimace "Am I the only one weirded by the fact you never saw the guy?" He asked frowning.

"Hell, no. But I don't think I wanna meet him anytime soon." Your reply was earn; you wouldn't know how to react if you ever saw the said man. "Besides, the guy has this strange schedule. He leaves early in the morning and comes back late at night, it's kinda weird"

"Weird is the way you know him so well and never saw him before" You ignored your him and turned your attention back to the professor. Twenty minutes into the lecture, the door was open and a raven hair peaked from it, sitting on the desk available in the front row.

You mood automatically got worse just by the sight.

"You're staring" Shirabu's uninterested voice ringed in your ears again "Why don't you admit you have a thing for him already? It would make our lives a thousand times easier"

"I just dislike him. I can't stand that dumbass" You retorted grimacing while scribbling down in your notebook. God, you hated biochemistry.

"Yeah, keep repeating that and someday you'll believe it."

"Why you all keep saying it?" You winced at the high pitch of your whisper "The guy ain't special. He is an asshole, honestly"

"Deep down you only say it because he told you were 'just okay' in our first week of freshmen year" The male gave you a pointed look. "I know it's you just being petty, but it's pretty obvious you have a crush on him"

"Hell no, I'd rather have the whole Lehninger shoved down my throat" Your classmate scoffed by your side, resuming to his notes.

"By the looks Haruno-sensei is sending in our direction, it's going to happen anytime soon."

"For this term, you'll send me an essay about peptides with especial focus on physiologically active ones and their major role on human organism." The professor said, sending a stern glare though the class. "Pay attention to the next slide. It contains a table with the pairs I've assigned for this paper"

What the hecking heck?

Your mind went blank but you still heard Shirabu snickering by your peripheral. For such a stoic man, he was pretty out of character today. That little shit.

"Beware the addressed pairs won't be changed in any circumstances. Don't even bother to try" The woman said as she addressed the whole class a cold glare. Goddammit med school and its goddam professors. "You now can discuss this paper. Remember this essay is worth half the grade"

"Fuck" you cursed as your forehead banged onto the thick textbook.

"Whoa, be careful" The teasing voice made you painfully groan "We don't want this pretty brain of yours getting a DAI¹ before we start this paper"

"It's too early in the morning to deal with you, Kuroo" Your retorted came muffled as you pressed your face even flatter into the book. 

"It's too early in the morning for you be ranting about everything but you don't hear me complaining, kitten" He jabbed at you, laughing it off as mere teasing "Is it fine if we start the paper on this weekend? I gotta volley practice the whole week."

"Sure. Wanna meet up on the public library?" You asked gathering your things, as you turned to Shirabu and saw him cocking an eyebrow at you.

"Fine by me" The male scratched the back of his neck, giving you an awkward glance "Actually, I wanted to ask you phone number" You stiffened "Aw [Surname]-chan, C'mon! You know it's easier."

"But what for? You already have my institutional email"

"You're too formal for your own good, woman" He handed you his phone, nudging the device into your palms "Where do you think this strict act is going to take you?"

You rolled your eyes at him again.

"Actually, Kuroo-san" You made a pause, voicing the words with candour "I want chaos and world domination. But in order to do it, I need to overthrow the dean first" You said while punching the numbers onto the chapped screen of his phone. The ravenette snorted at your reply.

"Oh shit, you're so weird!" And he left out a hyena laugh.

"Way to impress a girl, huh" 

"Only the ones I'm trynna woo" The male smirked when he saw your dumbfounded face.

"Huh? Big words coming from a nerd" You brushed off his provocation. You knew he didn't mean it, but you couldn't prevent your heart to skip a beat.

"Oi, [Name]! What do you mean?"

Surprisingly, the week went smoothly. No Kuroo incidents nor professors bitching over the struggling students.

It was saturday and you were more than ready to spend a whole day inside the library with the ravenette.

Sarcasm? Check.

It wasn't like you hated him. If you were to be honest, it was the other way around — but you would never give Shirabu the taste of being right.

Kuroo just had a special way of getting under your skin. He knew what buttons to push and how to make feel flustered.

You were indeed whipped for him in your first year, but he was an asshole back then — It was kinda comprehensible though: being new to the infamous uni life, freshmen were always seeking acceptance from other people.

Kouhai trying to impress their senpai.

Jocks trying to make a number on the female population.

You trying to grab the attention of that hot guy from welcome ceremony — yes, the one who ended to be the bane of your campus existence.

Yada yada.

But when Kuroo turned you down — without you confessing first, you may add —, your pride was incredibly hurt. You then declared war. Best way to rile up a med student? Make your grades better than theirs.

But of fucking course Kuroo wasn't your regular med student. The competition only provoked meaningless banter — and it annoyed you even more because you couldn't get into his nerves the same way he did to you.

"Oi, [Surname]! You good there?"

"Yeah, yeah, get back to the damn peptides" You definitely despised biochemistry.

You rummaged through the books sprawled over the desk, searching for your Lehninger copy.

"Where the fuck that huge ass book went to?" You murmured, getting ready to go check on your backpack.

Glancing towards your classmate's direction, you spotted it under one of the textbooks he was using, but before you could reach for it, you felt hands gingerly wrapping around your chin, making your eyes lock into his stare.

"What are you doing?" You knew the warmth in your cheeks wasn't being provided by his body temperature.

"Conducting an experiment" He said as you melted under his attentive stare.

"Huh?"

"You know, they say exchanging looks causes an increase on Oxytocin synthesis in hypothalamus" The male smirked when a vein popped on your head, your brain recalled that science paper about the physiology on human and dog interactions. You wanted chaos and world domination — but in order to make it, you had to kill Kuroo first.

"Are you fucking calling me a dog?" You squinted at him, ready to fight. He laughed as your slapped his hands off of your face.

"Oh, come on, it was just a joke. You know the hormone of love doesn't work this way." His hyena laugh made presence as the bibliothecary gave you two a dejected stare.

Just a joke, huh?

For a med student, Kuroo Tetsuro would make a shitty doctor if he didn't know how bad his smile was for your heart.

General taglist: @ohmythatmiya @imomomi @neonghxst @differentballooncollection @raenebalgaire

Taglist is open. Send an ask if you want to be added.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

PROMPT

Che “Taza” Romero x Reader

@stardust1978 asked: I wanted to request a Dialogue Prompt #5 under Angst with Taza when you are taking requests again. Thank you :)

Prompt: “My heart tells me to kiss you, my head tells me to walk away”.

Word Count: 2.6k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💘

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine, credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​ @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @arved 💥 (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

Who said ‘ride or die’ for first time, surely he knew you, because ride is your life. 

“Nine-one-one, what's your emergency?”

“She came from nowhere! I didn't see her!”

It wasn't true. Once your helmet is on, your motorbike and you are one. There's no difference, as if you got melted with it when you turn the engine. You know every single inch of Cali's asphalt. You know every traffic light, every signal, every road, every street, every city, every single driver. You didn't come from nowhere, but he was looking his phone when he crossed the corner's avenue. He didn't see you, that's true. But you came from Sunset Boulevard with Figeroa street. You was driving fast, as always, but respecting the limit.

You were lying on the ground, upside down, when you realized that you couldn't move your right leg. You couldn't even feel pain. As the orders of your brain reached the toes of the left foot, the right foot didn't respond. Nothing. Breathing fast, you were drowning into agonizing coughs. You're a nomad. You know every single bone of your anatomy. You know what's broken, you know what's fragmented and you know what's twisted. You're choking because of the blood filling your lungs, for a splintered rib. And only when you hear the sound of an ambulance sirens, you let yourself go.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

A hard headache is lashing your whole body, growling slightly whilst feeling some long fingers tangling into yours. You know their touch pretty well, you don't even need to open your eyes to confirm it. Those fingertips have traveled through your skin so many times you lost the count long time ago. They hold yours tightly, with a trembling and cracked lips kissing every one, every knuckle and the wrist. You're sleepy, coughing for a while and raising your free hand to your belly when a bitter twinge hits it. You don't need to ask where you are, 'cause you know it at the exact moment you notice your right leg immobilized hanging of the metal structure of the bed. 

Feeling weak and decayed, you turn your face at him, opening your eyes so slowly. The man drags his chair a little bit closer, leaning above the hospital bed to leave some dearly kisses on your forehead while your free sleepy hands toured your stomach till reaching his nape. It's been a long time since you saw him in Santo Padre. And even if you think he betrayed you, Taza still being the most important person in your life. And he will always be.

You met him sixteen years ago in Santa Madre, when you were almost fifteen. You stole a loaf of bread. You didn't have family, nor money, nor a job. You were a child suffering the poverty of the Mexican border. And as a fallen angel from heaven, he found you. He was running away too. 

He saved you and you saved him.

Taza taught you every single thing you know today. About animals, about guns, about motorbikes and mechanic, about how to be silent, about fighting. He welcomed you in his ranch, he gave you a family and he brought you back to life. 

“What ha—happened?” You mutter feeling high because of the morphine.

“A guy missed a traffic light and hit you”. He says licking his lips, choosing the correct words.

“And wh—what happened to me?” His sigh is more painful that have every bone of your body broken.

“A rib pierced your left lung, but you're okay now, cariño”.

“And what abo—about my leg?”

The Mayan doesn't know how to tell you. Isn't that bad, actually. But riding is your life.

“Femur fracture”. He can't lie to you. At least, not a second time since you met.

You turn your neck and face to the opposite side, feeling awake suddenly. You know what it's means. Your eyes filled with tears and your heart racing. The sanitary machines starts to beep louder, claiming the attention of some nurses who come to try to control your pulse. 

“I'm ok—okay! Fuckin' leave me!” You cry squeezing over the bed, while Taza tries to hug you.

“Sh, (Y/N). Calm down, calm down. Everything is gonna be fine. Sleep a little more...” He whispers on your eyes, watching sideway how a doctor inject a whitish liquid into the line connected to your wrist.

You let yourself go again, between Che's strong arms, making you feel as if you were at home again.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

He explained you that you fell with your knee slightly curled and that was why you broke it. Luckily, in Los Angeles didn't wait for transferred you to San Diego, to make the surgery necessary. After one day unconscious, they flew you in helicopter to Santo Padre. And even if Taza told you that you could walk again and drive your motorbike, you couldn't help but feel anxious, terrified and mournful. 

It was one long month in the hospital, receiving visitors every day from Stockton, Charming, Tijuana, Mexico... Even from the charters of Connecticut and Pennsylvania. You didn't used to talk a lot, mostly some words and some sentences. You were submerged on a gloomy environment, crying all the time because of the pain and the rage of being bedridden. Taza slept with you every night, before complaining all day about his back hurting with Bishop and Tranq. But he would do anything for you. Anything.

After the high medical and all the information the doctors gave you for the home life and rehabilitation, you agreed with the idea of coming back to the ranch. Actually, Taza as the stubborn man he is and Bishop as the president of your charter, forced you. They didn't give you any options. So you just ‘agreed’. Your next six month were going to be summed in the first one to rest, the next four going two times per day to the hospital and the last one trying to walk by your own. Feeling pain and agony with every step until you can make it disappear, by following the recommendations.

You used to be laid on the bed with the blinds half down, holding tightly your black leather vest against your chest, feeling that it was your only hope to wake everyday. Of course, there are things in life worse than a femur fracture, but for you it was painful in a psychologically speaking way. The doctors recommended the crew and your friends to talk you about day-life, happy situations or whatever that didn't let you think about it, so you could avoid  a depression and harmful thoughts. So when Mayans came to visit you at the ranch, sitting by a side of your bed or lying next to you, they were always trying make you laugh and talk. But you couldn't. You were like a scared child believing that the sheets were shields that protected you about any hurt.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

Opening your eyes, rolling over the mattress, hearing some whispers outside of your room that won't let you sleep. Your heart race, getting up on your palms, when you can't find your vest on it. You look for it on the floor, behind the blankets, behind the pillows. Nothing. With a lot of effort you move your whole and heavy body to the wheelchair next to the bed, supporting your arms on it with a growl drowned in your throat. Rolling your fingers above the wheels faster than you can think, you go towards the door opening it loud and making it crash to the wall. Following the hallway to the living room, the voices stir anxiously. Tran and Gilly are blocking your gaze to the huge table, where you used to meet al the Mayans for a lunch, a dinner or an impromptu meeting.

“Look at you! You did it by yourself!” Angel is very proud, leaning towards you before your able to kick his crotch with your good leg, making him fall to the floor between whinings and sobs.

“Hey, hey, take it easy, karate kid!” Creeper holds your shoulders, while EZ press his hands on your tights and on your left leg, to avoid the fact that you hit them too.

“Where's my kutte?! What are you doin'?!” You shout with your eyes filled with tears, stirring to loosen from the grips. 

“Cariño, calm down”. Then you hear his voice, appearance behind the big guys in front of you.

“You, fuckin' traitor! You're doin' it again! I fuckin' hate you, bastard!” You want to kill him, yelling full of rage while the tears run through your cheeks soaking the shirts.

“Fuck, (Y/N)! Calm yo' fuckin' self!” Angel growls trying to getting up from the floor.

“Bishop, please! I'll ride again! I'll soon”. Your cry gets louder seeing how the man is cutting a patch of your vest, between Tranq and Gilly, above the table. “It's the only thing I have! Please, don't!”

The president doesn't say a word  knowing how much you're suffering and don't giving a shit about it. Riz leans close to you, slapping him when he tries to clean your tears.

“Don't fuckin' touch me!” You scream at him totally mad, squeezing on the wheelchair and trying to get up of it.

“Jesus Christ, calm down!” He says somewhat scared.

“I earned it! I did it! Please! Don't take it away!” 

You feel like the air is leaving your lungs and your mouth when Bishop holds the kutte on air having a look of it, before starting to walk towards you. And when you're able to grab it, you do it holding it tightly on your chest, raising your gaze confused. He makes a soft move with his chin, pulling a way some inches the vest to see the new patch. The “nómada” one isn't there anymore, having been changed for “Miembro de honor”. Gasping not knowing exactly what to say, you hold it close again.

“It's the only thing I have...” You mutter with trembling lips.

“We know”. Bishop says bending down to leave a kiss on your forehead with a hand placed on your nape. “No one is gonna take it away, querida. But at least, I made you go out of your room”.

“Yea', the kick was worth it”. Angel says with a hoarse voice rubbing his crotch.

You can't help but smiling for first time after long months, when Creeper and EZ  let you go. Riz helps you to wear it, putting it well on. It looks good on you, better than ever and you're starting to feel blissful again.

“We decided to have a day off, here with you. And we bought you free alcohol beer, so you can drink too”. EZ says almost singing, making you chuckle. “And pops' meat for the barbecue”.

Sounds good. Really good. So you nod without doubting pulling away some hair bristles behind your ears.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

You can't remember when was the last time you had so much fun with your true family. Vicki came too with some of your friends and Letti, who turned out to be better than you expected, after Coco told you so much about her. And even if you didn't want the day to end, you were waiting for it, so you could be alone with Taza and tell him that you were sorry about what you said early morning.

After all the goodbyes, and the apache bringing you back to the inside, you turn at him with some effort on the wheelchair. Placing both hands on your lap and pursing your lips, your gaze travels looking his.

“I didn't me—”.

“It doesn't matter”. He interrupts you, passing you away to let his body fall down on the nearest sofa.

Turning again, you guides yourself to him, insisting about it.

“I'm sorry, Che”.

“God, forget it, (Y/N)”. Rolling his eyes, he lies his head against the back of the sofa.

“No, 'cause I know it hurt you. And it's not fair”. You continue, getting up of the chair to jump with the other leg by his side.

He doesn't say anything when you wrap his neck with both arms, hugging him. Taza only clicks his tongue, slicing a hand between your back and the sofa to put you closer, holding you against himself. Resting your face on his chest, closing your eyes, yes, it's feels like you're at home again.

“You know what?” You say almost in a whisper.

“What?”

“My heart tells me to kiss you, but my head tells me to walk away”. It's not a secret, but sounds like. And you're not ashamed of recognizing it.

“You can't walk, idiot”.

You chuckle shaking your head, raising it to him, touching his cheek with your nose.

“Don't leave me again, please”. He sighs rubbing his forehand. “I know I fucked up things with that... chick. But I truly love you and I'm gonna regret all my life for hurting you”.

“Just... give me some time”.

“The one you need, I could wait all my life”. Pressing his lips on yours in a smooth kiss, you travel one of your hand towards a side of his neck. 

The love you feel for him has never disappear, not even when you tried so hard to hate him when you became a nomad just to run away from all the sorrow he provoked you three years ago, a winter cold night when you arrived of a two weeks travel with the Stockton charter. By that time, you were going through some trouble and each one had a different way of facing it, instead of remaining together.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

It's been almost six month since the accident and everything has changed. Taza is driving his bike, with you by his back, towards the clubhouse. You called Bishop before to meet the crew on the front yard. You didn't tell him why, having a little surprise for them. So when you finally come and the guys are waiting you there, EZ is the one who notices that you're not carrying the crutches, drawing a big smile on his face and palming his brother's chest before pointing at you. 

Taking off the helmet and giving it to Taza, proud-hearted of what are you going to do, you practically jump out of the motorbike. You can see every reaction on every face. They're happy and a little shocked when you put your right foot on the floor. You're walking without help. And even if you feel a little pain yet, there's nothing that could stop you now. You're like a child giving her first steps. Limping very slightly, you open both arms.

“What's up, guys?! Cat got your tongues?!” You laugh happily going towards them.

Bishop is the first one who holds you in his arms when you're close enough, laughing too for your feat.

“You did it, querida”. He says, and you're sure the president is about to cry.

“I told you!”

“Are you gonna kick me again, if I try to touch you, mi dulce?” Angel walks somewhat closer with a funny gesture on his face, before hugging him.

“The doc' said I could ride in two weeks, but I'm gonna wait another one, just in case”. You inform them, with Angel's left arm on your shoulders. “So, where's my bike?”

“Resting too”. Taza says then, kissing your cheek. “Waiting for you”.

[mysticalmusicwhispers]

aditya is going to be grounded forever and ever and ever once he gets caught lmao. indus might even throw a slipper at him 😔someone please help him (not yao he's going to make it worse. or maybe yao can give him nice doodles and presents as a way of consoling him. he probably won't feel bad but at leas he will try to make his friend less sad lmao. and iran would help!! even as they're like "wtf you're SUCH A BAD INFLUENCE" @ yao. their combined efforts would likely make aditya very happy!!) the poor baby will not be having any fun for a Very Long Time :(

HM i think nyo china should live in a place of residence that makes me want to eat the rich whenever i walk past it, filthy capitalist that she is. but should that be the penthouse apartment of a high-rise condominium or should it be a lovely landed property? or maybe she has 2 houses an apartment for yao and sometimes herself in the suburbs of their primary school and a rich people house in the city that is near the elite high school she WILL get yao into (but this might mean moving yao away from his friends in middle school 😔) . decisions are hard. but yes she definitely buys her way out of trouble with her neighbours all the time

"you should follow his example in the things he's a model at not in things he does badly" i CHOKED i don't think i've heard a more chinese parent quote than this for the past 3 years they would totally say this and of course their disgruntled kids would complain that yao is um not the most respectful of the law dhwkntke

ALSO HIS POOR TEACHERS... I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY HAVE A CLUB THAT'S SO SAD OH MY GOD

hmm i think that like. even without a mentor's guidance yao will probably become less unruly and wild as he ages, as a process of growing up and becoming less focused on causing Chaos (he's directing that feralness to like. making an actual plan to take over the world probably), because society's tolerance for buckwild bullshit decreases as you get older and older, and the likelihood that he'll miss out on awards and other accolades if he continues this sort of behaviour, which his ambition won't allow for. BUT what i think won't change is the fact that he's an arrogant asshole and he becomes more and more so as he grows up with a lifetime of academic and extracurricular excellence. so im just saying imagine said sub in high school absolutely tearing apart one of his assignments. like just covering the whole thing in red-inked ruthless rebuttals and giving him a c. yao has never gotten a c in his life and is both humiliated and impressed because the sub is RIGHT, and they managed to outlogic him (which up till now only his friends + nyo china could probably yao doesn't associate with dumb people). and then he progresses amazingly in that class during the sub's remaining time with them and gets nyo china to let the sub teach him when they land a job. like i feel as though he would greatly benefit from an older mentor who won't tolerate his bullshit and would challenge him to reach new heights and this might be person!! (this thought is kinda unrefined and doesn't fully explain the Vibes but i need a nap now + it's not really Baby au anymore it's Slightly Less Baby au fhwinfkwg good afternoon to you and good night for me!)

They’re so sweet omg ☺️ Yao and Iran giving Aditya little presents... I love it. Their small gang of bastards has to stick together after all. Also yeah RIP India; at least they still have time to interact at school, but at-home hours is rough. (also, Yao’s neighborhood is moderately far from Aditya’s, but what about Iran? o-o I feel like they’d live a bit closer (?), maybe a couple streets away, and Iran isn’t on Indus’s blacklist yet............ (but then again, Indus probably banned any of his friends coming over lol). Also, Yao makes a plan to somehow get into the house across from Aditya’s and flash morse code at night with flashlights so they can talk, and hopefully it entertains his house arrested friend! Iran is dragged along for the ride and just goes with it lol. Jury is out on whether they get caught.)

Nyo China’s many houses.... :| she would do that oh my god. Also I think (?) there was a whole crackdown a while ago in China on people who were buying houses they didn’t live in, so they could get their kids into good schools in that residential area.... that radiates her vibes and I hate it. Miss China, how does it feel living in a penthouse, or just being rich in general O-o I LAUGHED at “decisions are hard” that’s everything about nyo china. “hmm yes I can’t choose which house I actually want to live in so why not just buy all 5??? yep, sounds like a good idea!” O_________O can’t relate

lol thank you; I was trying to channel Chinese parent energy and I’m glad it came through! The kids are grumbling that Yao could just be 100% awful or 100% academically stellar, but no, he has to be a genius AND a delinquent (just choose one, god) also yes they have a lil club just for them! Only people who have the honor of suffering get to join :)

And to your last paragraph, HELL YES IT’S CANON NOW. “Yao doesn't associate with dumb people” I’m crying omg. Yao takes all honors/gifted classes and doesn’t speak to anyone who doesn’t 😭 The big red C glaring at him from the top of his (once beautiful) essay stabs him viscerally in the chest and he needs to take a few days before looking at it again in order to recover his strength ego. He reads through all the comments and each one shreds his ego even more lmao; they’re not even mean comments but he just knows the sub is Completely Correct and sinks into a low like he’s never had. But yesss @ the whole episode pushing him to do better in order to keep up his Academic Excellence, and maybe impress the sub whom he now views as superior and whom he actually has respect for.

May I propose the sub is miss Vietnam o-o... she probably should be in the gang of ancients (as the only other kid who can rival Yao in Logic and fistfights, but isn’t friends with him like the other ancients because he sucks and she doesn’t like his bs) but shhhhh.... we can make a spin-off AU and nobody needs to know... lol anyways, I feel like if the substitute is Vietnam, she and Yao would have some sort of antagonism (not too tense but not friendly bickering either) at the beginning; Yao really wants to impress her and do better in class but Vietnam just. Does not like how he’s an asshole, especially to other people he thinks are below him sksksk. But they slowly warm up to each other especially as Yao gets ~reformed~ ever so slightly, and then it turns into friendly bickering and Long Debates on various intriguing topics (Yao always plays devils advocate in those :|). But yeah I definitely think she’d be a good candidate ig, since she doesn’t take bs even from the star pupil who is also an ass. And she’s a sub at first, so it gives her a little bit more room to throw hands whenever she wants instead of having to control herself lol