#declan that's disgusting..

[declankat]

25 SMILES CHALLENGE

can you pinpoint the moments where i actually put in some effort to make it look sane as possible?

*SANE ..it's... It's supposed to say SANE.

[lastonthebrakes]

watching two teams you hate play each other is all fun and games until the team you hate a bit more wins

[jovalencia]

a plain peanut butter sandwich? ronan you are one sick son of a bitch

[jam3sacaster]

“I can’t stand to see ya’ with someone else.”

(Rivals) Declan O’Hara x Reader

Suggestion by one’s own heart @wobblybobbilyfleshybits 🩷 / Declan is wildly jealous to see you with somebody else, and he makes that very clear…

18+ FANFIC / Smut refs & gorgeously feral Declan 🥰 Reader character aged at 21. Hope you enjoy! 🫶🏽

The Rose & Crown — Rutshire’s quaintly village pub — was exquisite. Crimson red carpets, the fireplace roaring divinely in the corner and the welcoming chatter of more-than-friendly locals bouncing from the walls. Nestled in the corner, accompanied by the landlord’s slobbering bulldog, you gulped eagerly from your pint of Guinness, desperate to coax yourself into drunkenness after an atrocious day at work. “Hello, darling.” A beguiling man with a mop of silver hair bounced over, throwing himself in the seat beside you. His enchanting smile sent shivers down your spine, and you allowed him to buy you another drink whilst whispering honeyed words into your ear.

The bell of the front door jingled as Declan O’Hara entered the pub, tight-lipped and adorned in beige, as usual. You had been casually sleeping with him for a few months now, and as so, you were thoroughly aware that he drank many evenings away here — away from prying, judgemental eyes. He had sat himself at the bar, ordering a tumbler of Bell’s finest and disinterestedly flicking through today’s edition of The Scorpion. The grey fox beside you, however, told you a particularly risqué joke, making you release a wondrous cackle. Sighing in agitation, Declan slowly rose from the bar and stumbled over to your table. “Hello. Didn’t see ya’ there.” He mumbled, gulping from his glass and shooting the man beside you a villainous stare. “Hello, Declan. Take a seat.” You peep, and pat the space beside you.

Begrudgingly obliging, Declan took a seat — unknowingly subjecting himself to lascivious flirting between you and your new admirer, an overwhelming compliment here, a soft stroke of your arm there. Each motion made by the man was met from an increasingly reproving stare from Declan. “One moment, doll. Must take this.” The man excused himself, pulling his ginormous telephone from his bag and making his way outside. “Did ya’ sit me here to make me an accessory or was there a reason?” Declan spat towards you, motioning towards the barman for his fourth whiskey. “What ever could you mean?” You question with a smirk.

“Well, I’m sat watchin’ this cunt leer over ya’. Disgusting.” He added, nodding towards the barman delivering him his next drink. “I think you should make that your last. You get rather nasty when you’re drunk.” You remark bitterly. An acerbic snicker pushed from his lips as he lit a cigarette, leaning towards you, his hot breath steaming over your neck. “Ya’ have no idea how nasty I can get.” The Irishman’s voice was devilishly husky — enough to make your thighs involuntarily squeeze together. “Oh yeah? How nasty are you going to get with me, Declan?” You tease, relocating your hand to his thigh and running it dangerously close to his bulge. As your new admirer made his way back to the increasingly passionate scene, Declan muttered towards you under his breath. “I can’t stand to see you with someone else.”

“Sorry about that. Just work.” The man beamed, as you and Declan parted your lustful gazes, as though you hadn’t made conversation at all. “Anyway, doll, what’s to say you come back with me and I show you a good time?” The silver-haired man questioned, pulling at your arm and staring at Declan pompously. That was enough. “Touch her, and it’ll be the last fuckin’ thing you do.” Declan snarled, pounding his fists against the table as he stood up. Overtly threatened by Declan’s warning, the man backed away and promptly made his exit.

“What the fuck was that?” You interrogated, raising arched eyebrows to the heavens — feigning annoyance but terribly turned on by his rage. “Ya’ deserve much fuckin’ better than that.” He growled, knocking back his whiskey like a shot and stubbing out his cigarette. “Well, I wouldn’t know now, would I?” You spit, rolling your eyes. “Ya’ just fuckin’ love to tease me, I know it,” He begins, leaning into you and speaking into your ear with a seductive, hushed tone, “But I’m gonna take ya’ home and show ya’ that ya’ belong to me.”

[seaemberthesecond]

This is one of the most underrated parts of Dream Thieves. Just so much to unpack.

Adam's indescribable horniness for Helen's kitten heels? Like, sir? Are you okay?

IMMEDIATELY projecting said horniness onto Declan? He's not even THERE. Why's he catching strays? Foul.

It's even more foul considering it's not remotely true. Dating Helen would be Declan's personal hell. For one, she's smart, loves meddling in people's lives, and has immense resources at her disposal. Helen Gansey and her sexy sexy shoes would be his worst nightmare. Forget dating, even being in the same room as her would make Declan start to dry-heave in panic.

And SECONDLY, you know Declan is at once wildly resentful, disgusted, and bewildered by eldest siblings who aren't massively parentified. Like, what do you MEAN your life's sole purpose isn't to protect your younger brother? Sounds fake, but ok. Couldn't be me though.

[hypnopreppy]

Bad Boy to Prep

Deck leaned against the wall, puffing away on his cigarette with a nonchalant air as if the school and its rules were miles away. The morning air was crisp, but he was enveloped in a haze of smoke and indifference. Deck heard firm footsteps approaching, knowing immediately it was Mr. Thompson the school guidance counselor. Deck, barely glancing his way, sighed with annoyance, exhaling another plume of smoke.

“Declan, would you please put that out and come to my office?” Mr. Thompson asked.

Deck rolled his eyes, “It’s Deck. And yeah whatever I’ll swing by later.” He exhaled another puff.

Mr. Thompson made eye contact and stated firmly, “I meant now.”

Deck, for a split second, felt a tingle down his spine. He put out his cigarette and said “Lead the way, dude.”

Mr. Thompson motioned for Deck to sit in the seat across from his desk. Deck slumped down, not wanting to be here any longer than he needed to be. Mr. Thompson took his seat at his neatly organized desk. 

“Thank you for joining me Declan,” Mr. Thompson began.

“Not like I had a choice. And it’s Deck.” Deck said curtly.

“Right. ‘Deck.’” Mr. Thompson said hesitantly, “I wanted to talk to you about some things.”

Deck sighed, “Get on with it.”

“You need to stop smoking, Deck. It’s bad for your health. You also need to start dressing better and acting appropriately.” Mr. Thompson replied.

“Fuck that. This is who I am.” Deck said.

Mr. Thompson made direct eye contact with Deck, “Do not curse.”

With another slight shiver down his spine, Deck responded, “Okay.”

Deck felt weird. After Mr. Thompson told him not to curse, it’s like he suddenly was not able to. He couldn’t even think of a curse word. Deck brushed the weird feeling away and asked,

“So what do you want me to do about it?”

Mr. Thompson cracked a small smile. He made direct eye contact with Deck and said, “Start by using your real name. You are not ‘Deck’, you are Declan.”

“... I am Declan,” Declan mumbled. For a split second he could’ve sworn he got another weird feeling...

“You think you can do that Deck?” Mr. Thompson interrupted his thoughts.

“It's Declan, I don’t go by ‘Deck’. And do what?” Declan replied.

Smiling Mr. Thompson, made direct eye contact once again and said, “You need to change your clothes. You hate being unkempt and dirty.”

Before he could process the weird feeling, Declan stood up and looked down at his clothes with disgust.

“What am I wearing?” Declan exclaimed. “Dude, do you have a change of clothes? These are awful!”

Mr. Thompson, making eye contact with him said, “I do. You will wear them. They feel perfectly correct.”

Declan nodded and immediately grabbed the clothes. Not caring for Mr. Thompson’s presence, he immediately stripped to his underwear. He immediately began to put on the pastel polo shirt. He felt the comfort of the collar on his neck and thought, wow this feels great! 

Following the polo, he pulled up the khaki shorts and absent mindedly tucked his shirt in. Mr. Thompson also provided new shoes too, boat shoes that he quickly put on.

“These clothes are so much better. Uh, thanks man.” Declan said to Mr. Thompson.

Mr. Thompson looked into his eyes, “You speak respectfully and eloquently.”

Declan paused for a second and responded, “Thank you, sir. I greatly appreciate your generosity.”

“You’re welcome Declan. You are a changed man. Respectable for society.” Mr. Thompson continued looking into his eyes.

“Yeah… respectable…” Declan trailed off.

“Declan. You need a better haircut, one suitable for a preppy like yourself. Allow me to provide it.” Mr. Thompson continued.

Declan let the words register before saying, “Mr. Thompson, would you be so obliged to provide me with a haircut suitable for me?”

Mr. Thompson nodded and pulled out a set of clippers from his desk. He began to make quick work of “Deck’s” hair, crafting a preppy hairstyle for Declan.

Declan stood proudly, now sporting a preppy hairstyle. Mr. Thompson beamed at his work of art. Mr. Thompson enjoyed “guiding” students to become better versions of themselves.

“Declan,” Mr. Thompson made eye contact, “You have always been a good preppy boy. You are respectful and do no wrong. Off to class.”

Declan smiled, “Thank you, Mr. Thompson. Your words are truly meaningful. Have a good day!”

[ask-spit]

he wasnt supposed to be here. not like this. not with dirt under his nails and death in his throat, prying into a grave that shouldve stayed shut. this wasnt loyalty. this was something feral. something broken. a desperate, pathetic betrayal dressed in grief.

the cemetery was still. too still. the kind of silence that presses against your ears like pressure at the bottom of the ocean. but inside declan, a storm raged. his lungs couldnt catch enough air. his heart hammered like it wanted out of his ribcage. like it knew this was wrong. disgusting.

around him, graves slept in peace. but not this one. not his. not the man buried under his shoes. the one who had taken bullets at his side, laughed with blood in his mouth, cried when no one else was looking. this grave should have been sacred. instead, declan was ripping it open with shaking hands and a rusted shovel.

when metal struck wood, it sounded like a scream. hollow. final. he couldnt turn back now. his knees buckled and he dropped. clawing at the dirt with bare hands. wet earth packed under his fingernails, filled the creases in his palms. his skin tore, bleeding and raw. he didnt stop. couldnt. not until the coffin was cracked wide open like a wound.

the stench hit first. rot and iron. it punched him in the gut, bile surging up his throat. he wanted to slap a hand over his eyes, his mouth. act like he wasnt the one responsible. but he didnt look away. couldnt. he stared at what was left of his brother in arms. sunken, twisted, eaten by time. declans fingers trembled as they moved, inching towards the corpse in tattered clothes. slow and blind, his hands slipped beneath the cloth. then, grasped cold metal. the dog tag. still there. still his.

he gripped it hard, like it might anchor him. like it could rewind time and bring breath back to punctured lungs. he pressed it to his chest and felt nothing but his own heartbeat under the palm of his hand. frantic, guilt-ridden, alive. but this? this wasnt closure. this wasnt a twisted way of remembrance and honor. this was desecration. and still, he held on.

the shame came in waves: scalding, relentless. it crawled beneath his skin like fire ants, hollowed out his gut until all that was left was the husk of the man he used to be. a man who had honor. a man who still had a heart. a man who didnt dig up his dead. vomit tore from his throat like tides, acid stinging at his teeth and gums. he was sick. body and mind.

the grief was louder. greedier. it howled through his bones, snarled against reason, tore apart what was left of restraint. he told himself it was for legacy. for memory. for the fallen soldier. but it wasnt. it was for himself. it always had been. he knew he was being selfish deep down. but he couldnt bring himself to care. atleast, not with the adrenaline pumping in his veins like the newest drug. if he keeps the memory of the man, someone will return the favor. right?

declan closed the coffin with hands that wouldnt stop shaking. started burying it again with a mind too numb to feel. every shoveled clump of earth was an attempt to drown out what he did. silence the corpse six feet under. he patted the dirt, solidifying it once more.

mud clung to his skin. cold gnawed at his bones. and the silence. that silence. it wrapped around him like a noose. no forgiveness. no peace. just weight. by the time he stood, he had dirt staining his clothes. vomit staining his lips. an unspoken apology staining his heart and mind. the only thing he had to show was the dog tag clenched tight in his fist. he knew nothing had been healed. nothing had been made right. now, it was only heavier. only worse. and it would stay like that. forever.

[wereoz]

i think declan touching doyle’s hand and saying ‘i remember you…’ and doyle responding ‘i’m sorry’ was the perfect way to end the emily & doyle & declan arc. it’s the perfect way to show that in a horrible, dysfunctional way they were a family (forced to be!!) and even though emily and doyle wanted each other dead and declan lives without both of them, a little bit of each other will live in all of them forever. honestly including this in the same ep where it’s revealed declan was born through doyle keeping his mother captive to force her to give birth, and emily’s disgust at that really makes this arc more powerful and tragic. like - she had to live with that man and make loving him believable. she had to believe 100% she was in love for him for this to work, not to mention she was further trapped by actually caring for declan and wanting to know he was okay. it’s a painful, confusing situation with no good outcome. if it’s not believable, you die and compromise the operation. if you believe it, you compromise your morality and identity and when everything ends you feel as though you’ve destroyed your home, your family. emily was left feeling so empty. god <//3

[thegeeksideofsr]

The Scare

Part two

Content: pregnancy symptoms, nausea, dry heaving,

An: I finally finished a fic! It might be a while before this happens again, but we'll see. Not proot read. Ps: I know pregnancy is not for everyone, but if it is I hope you enjoy, and I have never been pregnant, so I'm kinda just winging it.

The sounds of Kate, Declan and Alice discussing the plot of a TV show they are watching loud enough for me to hear in the office. On the other side of the kitchen from the bar.

Albeit, the restaurant is empty apart of the four of us and the doors between the bar and my office are open. The point stands. They are being loud.

Tuning them out is easy enough, this is rather normal behavior, the thing that made it difficult to focus was the nauseating feeling in my stomach.

It had been with there all morning, breakfast already made it's appearance for the second time in the bathroom of the restaurant. At least I was the first one here so no one saw.

After reading the same paragraph for the third time, I give up trying to work on the documents in front of me. I can come back to them when I don't feel like I'm going to puke every five minutes.

I push away from my desk and head out to the bar. Maybe some peppermint tea will settle my stomach.

The trio are in deep discussion, so they don't noise me coming out and filling the electric kettle behind the bar, and setting it to heat.

As I dig through the jar of tea for a bag of peppermint, the smell of the other teas in the jar meld together.

Lavender and mint, chamomile, earl grey, and green tea, all blending together to make the most disgusting smell on Earth.

I set the jar down and cover it as fast as I can. I brace myself against the counter, taking deep breaths and fighting the urge to puke.

"Boss? You okay?" Deklan asks, his voice full of concern.

I nod, not trusting my self to speak with out getting sick.

"You don't look it." He places a hand on my shoulder. " What's wrong?"

I shake my head, losing the battle with my stomach.

"'M gonna be sick," I mutter as I push past him and run to the bathroom.

Rush to a stall, and try to puke, but having not eaten anything since throwing up breakfast, it was nothing but painfully dry heaves.

I jump as a hand lands on my shoulders, then collects my hair, holding it out of the way.

"It's alright, hun, let it out." Alice's voice is calm and comforting as I continue to heave.

After few more heaves, the nauseous feeling begins to calm down. A tissue appears in front of me. I take it and wipe my mouth. I move away from the toilet, close my eyes and lean back against the cold metal of the stall.

"You okay now?" Alice asks, her voice still calm.

I nod. "I'm better."

"Good. Any idea what triggered it?"

"The tea jar. The smell was overwhelming and made me sick. Happened this morning too, but there wasn't anything to trigger that."

She hums, "Sounds like when I was pregnant with my first. The most random things would set me off. The smell of my favorite food, my husband's cologne."

I remember when she was pregnant. She had to take a few months off because the smells of the restaurant made her sick and she couldn't be in the building for more then ten minutes.

I cant remember my last period. Life has been busy and stressful. Between running a restaurant, Eliot being distant the past six months, and now, Dad and the team going after some big bad in a foreign country, and going radio silent.

I don't know if he even wants kids. We've never talked about them or the future. I know he likes kids. I've seen him interact with them and he's a natural. But they aren't his own.

I look at her. My face must show my train of thought, because she has a comforting look on hers. Like she's soothing a child.

"Don't panic yet, love. You don't even know yet. It could be a stomach bug making you sick and stress making you late."

I nod. It's true. It could be that. Or I could be pregnant with Eliot Spencer's child.

Eliot and I weren't as careful as we should have been the last couple times. And that was at least two and a half months ago.

"I'm going to run to the shop on the corner, grab a pack of tests and something to help your stomach. While I'm gone I want you to lay down in the office. I'll have Deklan bring you some peppermint tea so you don't have to smell that jar again, okay?"

"Okay," I nod.

She nods, pushing her self off the floor then extending a hand out to me to pull me up.

Once on my feet, I hug her tightly, she returns the hug, squeezing in a comforting manner.

"Go lay down. I'll be right back."

I release her and head to the office. Voices are low in the front of the building, but the couch in the office looks to inviting to care about what they're saying.

My stomach muscles scream as I lay my self down. Between getting sick this morning, and the recent dry heaving, it feels like I got punched.

I pull the blanket on the back of the couch down to cover me, tucking it around me, close my eyes and try to relax.

After a few minutes, foots steps approach the office, then a knock on the open door.

"Hey, boss," Deklan murmurs. "I brought you some tea. Alice said you had an upset stomach, so this should help. I put lots of honey in too."

He walks over to the end of the couch and sits next to my feet.

I pull my self up and take the mug. Deklan is a master tea maker, always makes it just right.

"Thanks, Dek." I smile at him.

He returns the smile, but I can see it doesn't reach his eyes.

"Are you ok?" He asks.

I nod. "I am. Alice has got to get something's. Hopefully it's just a bug."

"What if it's not?"

"What do you mean?"

He gives me a look, eyebrow raised and a smirk.

"I have met Eliot. And I have seen you on the days after he returns from his work trips." He says making my face heat up and look away from him.

"I may be a dude, but I have two sisters and Alice is a horrible liar." He adds, making me giggle.

"What'd she say?"

"She said she was going to the store for something to make you feel better, and absolutely nothing else. At all. Not making eye contact with us, and asked me to make you a cup of tea and ran out."

"She ran to the corner store," I mutter. " Get some tests."

He shrugs. "I figured. You gonna be okay? Need anything else?"

"No. I'm good. I'll be fine."

"You sound like you are trying to convince yourself more then me." His tone soft and concerned.

I break his gaze to look into my mug. Deklan has always been there when one of us needed him. The closest thing to a brother I'll ever get.

"I'll be okay." I mutter, looking back up to his worried face, "I just need to know for sure one way or the other so I can think about what's next."

"Well," he says, placing a hand on my knee, "I can't help with finding out, but if you need anything after that, one way or the other, I'm here. Just call."

"Thanks, Deklan."

"Anytime." He smiles.

He pats my knee, then pushes himself off the couch and head out of the office.

I continue to sip my tea, I don't know if it's helping my stomach, but it tastes good. The sounds of Kate and Deklan milling around acts as white noise, soothing my nerves and thoughts. But the thing I want most right now is a hug from my Dad and Eliot.

Not at the same time, though. Someone would lose a limb.

That won't happen for who knows how long. They were off on a mountain somewhere and hadn't any idea when they would be back.

Footsteps rushing towards the office pull me from my thoughts.

Alice appears in the doorway, a grey plastic bag dangling from her hand.

"I got ginger ale, saltines, tests, and your favorite candy." She puffs, sounding like she ran the whole way.

"Thank you Alice." I say unraveling my self from my blanket.

I set my near empty mug down on the desk as I stand.

She tussles through the bag and pulls out the box of tests, holding them out to me.

I stare at them. My arms feel like they are made of lead.

"They won't bite." Alice chuckles.

"You don't know that."

She huffs, dropping her arm back to her side.

"You won't know until you take one," she says. "Do you want to take one now?"

The thought of taking one scares me, especially without Eliot. And I don't really want to take the test here because i know I won't be able to control my emotions and will cry. Positive or not.

I just want to crawl into bed and hug Eliot's pillow and cry.

"I think I need to go home." I choke out, tears blurring my vision.

"Okay. We can handle everything here, don't worry."

I nod.

"Thank you." My voice barely over a whisper.

She nods, then puts the box back in the bag and sets the bag on the desk, before leaving the room and going down the hall.

Tears slip down my cheeks. The pit in my stomach growing by the second.

I take a beep breath and wipe my tears away.

Grabbing my bag of the hook by the door, setting it on the desk, and shove the grocery bag into it and zip it closed with more force then was probably necessary, and pulling my coat on next.

Flipping the lights off as I swing my bag over my shoulder, then head out to the hall, slipping out the side door into the employee lot and to my car to head home.

I swallow down tears as I drive, focusing on the road as I try not to think about the test I have to take when I get there.

I drag myself in the front door. Dropping my coat, purse, and shoes by the door, not bothering to put them away.

I pull the plastic bag from my purse, mozey my way to the kitchen and dump the bag on the counter. A box of saltines, a bottle of ginger ale, candy, and a box of pregnancy tests spread across the counter.

I stare at the box. I should take it. I can't freak out or relax until I know for sure and I can't know for sure if it don't take it.

I grab the box, tear it open and pull out the instructions.

The words are a blur through the tears in my eyes, making it impossible to read.

I sigh and toss the box back on the counter.

My head is pounding and my palms are sweating. An Eliot hug is exactly what I need, but his not here. And won't be back for a few more days.

I take a deep breath, then head to my room to change and crawl into my bed.

The bed feels big and empty. More then usual. I reach for Eliot's pillow and hugg it to my chest, borrowing my face in into it and breathing in his sent.

He had only been here one night after the last job. But then said the team had to lay low for a while and that he had to stay out of town for a while.

He seemed different, lighter, but he wouldn't tell me anything about it.

That was two and a half months ago.

Dad only told me they had a new job a week ago, but before that, I hadn't heard from anyone on the team.

After I calm down a little bit, I untangle my self from the bed, steel my nerves, and head back to the kitchen to grab a test.

I read the instructions, then go to the bathroom.

I leave the test on the counter to develop, set a timer on my phone, then I begin to pace the floor of my bedroom.

After what feels like an eternity and blink of an eye at the same time, the timer finally goes off.

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

Eliot Spencer Tag list

@fictional-hooman @skyeofbees @kimberkingrivers @spencereliotwinchester @padawancat97 @hunted-secrets-41319

[masonmiamor]

think about it - - mason mount x reader.

summary: what happens when bsf! mason wants more, but you’re not willing too in order to protect your friends heart and yours.

wc: 1.3k

Hi everyone... It's been months... so forgive me... it's a Christmas miracle! 😭😭I hope everyone is doing okay and safe! I'd love to hear all about it if you'd like to speak about it! Feel like this is so bad and I lost my spark but I hope you can still enjoy :( 💕 don't forget to reblog, as us writers love to hear back from you!

“Stop! Don’t say another word,” you reluctantly stood being faced with Mason who stood confused. “You can’t say that Mason. You’re going out with her! One of my friends? How can you say that?” you defend your friend, even if she wasn’t there. 

Being best friends with Mason wasn’t always easy. He forgot he was a normal person sometimes, and would let the fame get to his head, which is what he’s doing right now. Your parents and his were grateful more than ever to have you keep him in check because lord knew it would be a mess. 

Mason had been flirting and going out with your friend Stella. From the stories she told, it sounded serious, and wanted more. You didn’t play Cupid, and part of you was slightly upset when you found out from Declan they were going out. Behind your back, not even a single word from Mason. 

Stella was a beautiful blond, working at a law firm, and definitely super confident. You were the opposite, still at uni and trying to find a program that could promote your art. Art was your life, no matter what went on, it was a way for you to release all your energy into a blank canvas. 

“All I’m saying is that I don’t like her like that anymore. She’s to stuck up and self-centered, I’m not ready for that commitment,” Mason reasoned but you shook your head with a no. This was him. Becoming a womanizer. Forgetting the good and little things that occurred in his life. 

“You’re gonna break her heart? Before Christmas? Really?” you say with a pure questioning voice, your eyes squinting. Mason shrugged and nodded nonchalantly, “I don’t see why not. I realized I didn't want her. She’s not the one I want,” he said.  

“So why play her? Drag it out this long. That’s not fair to her,” you say disgusted not being able to look at him. Mason always was a person you admired and looked up to, but deep down you fell for the freckled brown-eyed man. It was hard to resist and you refused to accept it, but when seeing them together, you couldnt help think it should be you aside him. “You don’t think it’s fair for me? I never wanted her, she threw herself at me.” 

“Which is why I’m saying why play her when you should’ve made it clear from the start? You made her attached to you and let her believe your lies and promises. Mason what the actual fuck?” you spit out with pure rage. The room becomes hot as you begin to look around for the exit. 

“She also played with me! I’m sure she didn’t tell you that because you’re blind to her. You’re so quick to defend her but what about me? Your best friend? Stella messed around with other men, while I stayed loyal to her. She’s a liar and a manipulator. So what if I end it before Christmas? I can finally have the person I want instead of being focused on someone who can’t even make time for me.”

This was certainly news to you, as you started to feel regretful for the way you screamed at him. To call him a womanizer and letting the fame get to him. You didn’t know Stella did this, it was news to you. As all she could brag about nowadays was about Mason this Mason that. She never mentioned talking with other people. He was right. You did let her get to your head. 

“It’s okay I know you didn’t mean it, to scream at me,” Mason noticed your quiet tone, heart-wrenching as he tried to swallow the words that wanted to come out, before he knew it, he started speaking again. “I know you want what’s best for everyone, but when will you think of yourself? You also deserved to be treated right and loved by someone,” you eyed him weirdly and burst out laughing. 

“Me being in in love? Or someone loving me? That’s impossible. I haven’t had a boyfriend in years, let alone go on dates. I’m starting to accept the fact I won’t find anyone, I mean look at me!” you said seriously, continuing to laugh. Mason frowned, shaking his head at the way you were talking to yourself. 

“I am looking at you… and all I see is someone who’s scared of revealing who they truly are. The commitment maybe or afraid of being rejected. A beautiful, smart, independent woman,” Mason said carefully as he took steps closer to you. “Someone who deserves the world after putting everyone first before her. Why can't you see that? Why do you distance yourself from me?” he asked with urgency. 

You would be lying if you said you slowly detached yourself from him. Avoiding plans or meetings because it hurt to see him. The idea of him not telling you he was going out with Stella, seeing them together when all your friends went out, your friend who still was with Mason, and being in love with your best friend but still trying to refuse it. 

It drove you wild and often made you cry because everyone around you began to settle down, and you were left wondering why you couldn’t keep one good person in your life. You hated the fact of never being enough, for yourself or anyone around you. Maybe you weren't enough and that is what pushed people away. 

“Mason…”

“Why can't you let me love you like you deserve? Let me take your worries and pains away? Let me be the man you need and love you unconditionally? What are you so afraid of? What else do I have to do to get your attention?” Mason confessed. The Christmas tree lighting made him look intimidating as he held your face in his large hands. 

It was fucked up. He knew it was fucked up to mess with your friend to get you to see how madly he fell in love with you. It was an even bigger mistake to have dragged it out this long, knowing how distant and muted you were from him. He just wanted you to finally see that it was him all along. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, unable to look him in the eyes, because if you did, you would give it away how you felt about him. The eyes never lied. Your eyes never lied to him. “Say something please…” Mason pleaded, afraid he might've overstepped, or read the cards wrong. 

“I'm not the right person for you Mase… I can’t give you what you want…” you painfully smiled, as both of your hearts sunk deeper. “I can't lose you like I’ve lost everyone else. We wouldn't work, I’m just way too different from the girls you've been with,” you say pulling away from his grasp and walking to the opposite end of the room. 

“They're not you though. You will always come first. They didn't mean anything because it wasn't them I wanted, it's all along been you. I’ve spent way too much time thinking, losing you, suffering because you weren't with me. I'm tired of that, I just want you baby. Don't compare yourself to anyone in the world, because at the end of the day, you will be the first one I look for… I love you.” Your eyes widened, not realizing he stood in front of you again. 

Your head felt heavy, filled with thoughts as they raced through your head. Your chest tightened at his words. After waiting so long to hear them, why did all of a sudden feel different? Like you didn't believe them. Believe him. Was it the fact she was still present, or were you afraid of finally having something real and you being the reason to lose it all? Mason leaned down kissed the inner corner of your mouth, and pulled away. Joining your families who were celebrating Christmas Eve. 

“Think about it. Okay?”

[kelliealtogether]

I'm hoping to have one last fic typed up, edited, and posted by the end of 2024, but as the year is winding down, I figured I'd post a wrap-up of the works I've completed this year. So here they are, from longest to shortest. 😌

In Comes the Tide - 45k - Rated T

Performing a simple, polite gesture should not result in a marriage, but—Adam Parrish learned—this did not apply to selkies. The summer before his senior year at Harvard, Adam returns to the same small coastal town where he's spent the past two summers. Bussing tables isn't what he wants to do with his life, but the dockside seafood shack where he works is popular, and the tips the employees split pad his bank account enough to afford a more leisurely fall when he gets back to Cambridge. Little does Adam know he's in for a very surprising summer when a selkie shows up at The Sea Shanty and Adam saves his coat...

While There's Breath in My Body - 11k - Rated E

Adam Parrish had lived in Port Royal for twenty years. He’d been around ships for almost two thirds of his life. In all that time, only one ship ever raised the hair on his arms each time it came to port, and it was not the ship itself, but the man who stood at its helm. A skirmish could put a ship’s fate in someone else’s hands. A storm or a cannon ball could put it at the bottom of the sea. A rampant illness could leave it crewless and adrift, waiting for the next enterprising group of sailors to come on board. But a particular flag, a particular captain… Those raised Adam’s hair far more than any combination of masts, sails, and anchors ever would.

A Pirate AU

Hello, I'm in Delaware - 7k - Rated G

Has anyone ever told you that you look like a fed?” “I am a fed.” “And it’s disgusting how much you don’t hide it.” Adam Parrish travels the country covering up sightings of dreamt cryptids. When he gets called to Delaware to investigate a creature caught on home security footage, he asks for some help from a dreamer. His fiancé, Ronan Lynch.

The Magician Entertainment - 5k - Rated G

When Adam Parrish reveals he knows sleight of hand at a company team building event, he doesn't realize how big of a mistake he's made until one of his colleagues corners him a few days later in the office kitchen. The entertainment Declan Lynch hired for his daughter's birthday party bailed, and Declan has ideas about who can fill that void: Adam. Adam agrees — simply because Declan offers him the easiest $500 Adam will ever earn — though Adam's not happy about it. It's only when he arrives at the party that he realizes he might be able to perform some actual magic. With Declan's younger brother, Ronan.

Just Coffee - 4k - Rated G

The new barista at Fox Way Cafe was hot as shit. Or Ronan Lynch hoped he was new. That was the only reasonable excuse why the barista sucked at barista-ing and seemed to provide the fucking worst customer service known to man. The way the guy’s thin smile faltered when he asked someone how he could help them said he’d rather throw himself into an active volcano — or possibly a tiny metal pitcher of freshly steamed milk, given the setting — than take another order for a nonfat pumpkin spice peppermint patty latte with almond milk or whatever, but damn, Ronan would stand in line all day if it meant watching the new guy epically fail at providing a good customer experience. Ronan Lynch doesn't mean to become a regular at Fox Way Cafe, but when he sees the cafe's newest employee for the first time, he decides to keep going back again, and again, and again. At least until the new barista learns how to spell his name...

Rock Beats Scissors - 2k - Rated M

Really, if they wanted to keep things fair and equitable, they could have found some impartial way to make the decision. Flipping a coin. Drawing straws. Rolling a die. But being distractingly hard didn’t always allow for rational thinking, and for two eighteen-year-old boys who appreciated the more physical aspects of life, neither of them would have been willing to hit the pause button to scramble out of bed and find a quarter or an old board game. They just kept going until someone gave in, and no matter who put what where, they both ended up exceedingly happy with the results. Which worked. Until the first time neither of them wanted to give in. When Adam and Ronan can't agree on who's going to top, they solve their problem the old fashioned way: rock paper scissors.

The Singular Formula - 2k - Rated G

It was because he spent his nights on Adam’s floor awake that Ronan heard Adam talk in his sleep in the first place, and though he might not have remembered when he first heard Adam sleep talking, Ronan would never forget what Adam said. Seal off the wall. Don’t let the submarines in. When Ronan starts sleeping over at Adam's tiny apartment above St. Agnes, he learns something about Adam he hadn't known before: Adam talks in his sleep.

Safe Bet - 1k - Rated G

The guy tilted his head slightly as if to say fair, and he lifted a long, lovely hand to push a lock of dusty hair back off his forehead as he looked at Ronan. “I might be, but I hope not.” One corner of his thin lips twitched, then he said, “Because I have a proposition.” Ronan stared. Blinked. He had not anticipated his evening taking this kind of turn when he’d needed to get out of his older brother’s apartment. Ronan loved his brothers Declan and Matthew — who he’d come to stay with while he tried to make his life less directionless — but sometimes three Lynches under one roof was too much. Evenly, he said, “A proposition.” When Ronan Lynch is approached by a hot stranger at a bar, the last thing he expects is that he'll be drawn into the guy's scheme to win a bet against his coworkers.

I've got tons of pots simmering on my stove going into 2025, so here's to another year of writing about these two idiot assholes falling in love over and over again. 🥰

[number-1-kuaidul-fanboy]

Which yugioh villians seems to have undeserved redemption arcs?

The abusive parents

That is my immediate answer. All of them, aside from Fuya/Nelson's mother who in the dub at least took accountability, changed for the better when she realized she was hurting her son, and was just never to the level of these other jerks I'm gonna talk about. None of these jackasses deserved redemption.

Gozaburo and Judai's offscreen parents thankfully didn't get the "redemption" treatment so I won't talk about how awful they are but from 5Ds onward, Yugioh has been doing this constantly and it pisses me off. Don't believe me? Here's a list off the top of my head. Spanning every show from 5Ds through Go Rush! Aside from Sevens.

Aki's father

I've been over this before but Yusei and the narrative itself forced Aki to forgive her emotionally and physically abusive father because this episode thinks her forgiving him was the only way to be "whole and good." This is still the most disgusting example of this pattern in Yugioh to me since at least none of the other characters were forced by characters in the story to forgive their abusers, they just did of their own volition for reasons I'll never understand.

Byron Arclight and Dr Faker

The former was quickly forgiven by his three kids who he used as pawns to gain number cards without so much as an onscreen conversation.

And the latter meanwhile was forgiven by Kaito and Haruto just because he's their dad I guess? Even though he was the villain of Zexal I and didn't give a single fuck about Kaito, his older son.

Eliphas

Maybe not forgiven by the characters (though possibly it's been a while since I've seen Zexal) but he was a shitty creator/father to Astral and a shitty leader to his people as he was constantly making all of them suffer with his awful decisions that did not have their best interests at heart yet his death is treated like some "noble sacrifice." NO. Too little too late. Rest in Hell.

Leo Akaba

This one's probably self-explanatory but he was a neglectful father to Reiji/Declan, abandoned him to start a war, disrespected his dead daughter's wishes, imprisoned four girls because they look like his daughter, and in doing all this, caused the revival of a literal DEMON who nearly destroyed the world. Declan rightfully stands up to him for this but in the end, Leo STILL otherwise gets off scott-free, not in jail or dead or anything, just vibing with the rest of the cast and the son he abandoned doesn't even seem to hold any ill will anymore. WHY?! He did all this world endingly horrible shit, didn't do shit to make up for it, and he ends the series with no consequences because?! What?! He "apologized"?! He "had reasons"?! NONE OF THAT JUSTIFIES GENOCIDE.

Himika Akaba

This bitch does not get nearly enough hate for grooming a traumatized child into a tool for war. She does NOT get to act like she's some "caring mother" to baby Reira/Riley after pulling that shit and roping her son into doing the same. He didn't, thankfully, he wanted Riley to have her own thoughts and feelings and not just the unfeeling vessel his mother groomed her to be but still. She STILL gets off scott-free for this and it's disgusting.

Kiyoshi Kogami

Okay, I'm cheating a bit since this guy was never redeemed or remotely treated as a good guy, thank god, but he fits this trend because Ryoken/Revolver, the son he neglected and traumatized, DID forgive him (even if the narrative/other characters don't) and continued to fight for his shitty ideals while being presented as a character we're supposed to sympathize with. This is more of a Ryoken character problem but it ties into this theme of shitty parents getting off scott-free in this franchise.

And if I had to guess, the next example of this disgusting trope is gonna end up being the Creator

Aka Otes's Earthdamar and the unnamed creator of the Velgearians. I hope he's not redeemed or forgiven. I hope he's condemned for creating an entire species just to be his pawns, MERGING WITH ONE OF THOSE PAWNS, and showing preferential treatment to Yudias over Kuaidul as well as a fucking card game over Kuaidul and the other Velgearians, both of which wrecked Kuaidul's mental and emotional state and contributed to him going down his villainous path. I know Yudias is known for forgiveness but come on he has to draw the line SOMEWHERE right?! Draw the line at the douche who basically ruined Kuaidul and Zwijo's lives, and sees them and the rest of you as things to use!

[jomiddlemarch]

Let the more loving one be me

Rupert knew himself to be a cad, a bounder and a rake, singularly devoted to his own desires and unashamed of it, but he hadn’t known he was stupid.

Terribly, terrifyingly stupid. 

Because being a witless imbecile was the only way he’d ended up sitting in the waiting room of a hospital which could serve as prime evidence of NHS budgetary woes, the plastic chair doing its best to shove him off, the air redolent of antiseptic and very old, very cheap coffee, both scents an improvement over the remainder of Taggie’s vomit on his cuffs, the acrid bite of his own sweat. 

He'd been so bloody stupid—and now she was suffering for it.

It hadn’t seemed like she’d been injured at all in the crash. He wouldn’t even have called it a crash, hadn’t, at first, when the doctor, a middle-aged woman with the coloring of a field mouse, had asked him what happened, how he came to be rushing in to A&E with Taggie cradled in his arms like a pre-Raphaelite maiden fished out of a weedy lake. She’d wrecked her car, but it was already a wreck and how Declan let her drive it was a mystery, and she’d gotten out and come to him entirely sensible, if breathless. He’d held her in his arms and she’d been whole, her trembling soothed by his hand stroking her hair, down the length of her spine. She’d seemed shaken up but that was all and he’d seen her look worse. 

Until she’d cried out, gotten sick all over herself, and fainted. Until she hadn’t woken up when he’d called out her name several times, increasingly loudly, and then pulled over, nearly into a hedgerow, and had tried to wake her with a hand at her shoulder and then her cheek. She’d been desperately pale, her chestnut curls dark against her face, slumped over and for a moment, he hadn’t known what to do, everything blank.

Then he’d put his foot on the gas and broken every traffic law that existed in Great Britain.

They’d taken her from him as if something like this happened every day, which for an A&E department was probably the case, and he tried to be reassured by the general lack of interest engendered by an MP arriving with a unconscious woman in his arms, but they were all British and thus expected to be minimally excited by anything except sport and he hadn’t liked the way Dr. Field-Mouse had pursed her lips and then asked whether he’d noticed Taggie was bleeding.

He hadn’t and he’d thought that was good, but Field-Mouse, who had none of the charisma of a Harley Street surgeon, shook her head a little and paused before saying We’ll get her sorted out shortly, you might have a seat. She pointedly left off sir and it occurred to him she must be a Labour voter who loathed aristocrats and he blurted out she’s Irish, she’s only twenty, as if that would ensure better care.

Dr. Field-Mouse only said, “Have a seat,” again without the sir or any particular kindliness.

Rupert sat.

For two hours. Staring at his hands, at the signet ring on his finger, his stained cuffs. He tried to think of something distracting or consoling, but nothing helped, nothing worked. When he closed his eyes, he saw Taggie’s face, a dozen different times, how he’d shocked her, disgusted her, disappointed her. How she’d trusted him when he’d held her after the crash, how she’d looked at him in the bluebell wood. She had the most expressive eyes of any woman he’d ever known and he’d hurt her so many times already, sometimes with glee, and still she’d stumbled into his embrace, seeking comfort, Taggie who took care of everyone else in the O’Hara household. He was piss-poor at comforting anyone, at his best with dumb animals, and yet she wanted him to hold her, to tell her everything would be all right.

Would Taggie be all right? Christ, it was enough to drive him to prayer, dissolute sinner that he was. Stupid, when he didn’t believe in God and no God worth His salt would ever believe in Rupert Campbell-Black.

“Sir, your wife is stable, you can sit with her,” an orderly said.

“Not my wife,” he replied and the assessing look on the orderly’s face made Rupert barrel on. “Not my daughter, bloody hell, not mine—”

“Perhaps you’d rather ring someone then. Someone she’d want with her when she wakes up. She’s in 206, down the hall to the right,” the orderly said.

“I’ll sit with her,” Rupert said. He’d have to call Declan but he couldn’t bear to just yet, to explain what had happened, to hear the man begin to roar and then stop himself, to be cursed and rightly so, to brace for Maud’s tragedy queen entrance. He’d sit with Taggie first, for a little while, when it might be the last time they were alone. “206. Thanks.”

It wasn’t far and the walk took forever. She was lying quietly in a narrow bed, a blanket that had once been some pastel faded into a dull cream pulled up to her breasts, her eyes closed, for all the world like some fairy princess waiting to be woken with a kiss. He might have leaned over and grazed her lips with his, save that Dr. Field-Mouse was standing next to the bed.

“Her scans look fine, no evidence of bleeding in the brain or in her abdomen. She’s very likely badly concussed and we’ll want to keep her for observation, but she ought to be coming around,” Field-Mouse said. She nodded towards the chair next to the bed and he sat.

“I’ll feel better if she regains consciousness soon. You might try talking to her a wee bit, see whether she’ll wake up to a familiar voice.”

“What should I say?” he asked. Few people who knew him would have believed him ever at a loss for words, but Taggie, lying so still, so vulnerable, left him stricken, speechless. Field-Mouse held his gaze and something softened in her.

“Whatever you think she’d like to hear should do well enough,” she said and left the room.

Rupert reached over, took Taggie’s hand in his and squeezed it lightly.

“Taggie darling, angel, it’s Rupert, please open your eyes. You were right, right about everything—”

“What everything?” she mumbled, eyes still closed, and shifted her hand so that their fingers were laced together. He laughed, a choking sound, and then she did open her eyes. The mixture of skepticism and tender concern felled him. Tears filled his eyes, spilled over.

“Ssshh, s’okay,” she said.

“You’re hurt. I’m meant to be looking after you,” he said, his voice rough. When was the last time he’d cried? Maybe when he’d had to have Trajan put down after the stallion broke his right foreleg. Rupert had been fourteen.

“You’re holding my hand, that’s enough,” she said.

“It bloody well isn’t, but it’s something,” he said. “I haven’t rung your parents yet—”

“Later, I can’t, Da and my mother—in a little while,” she said.

Rupert nodded. He’d told her she was right about everything. He’d wait to call. 

[ask-fireflycod]

[ The Mission After ] — This is something I wrote cus my brain has been buzzing for a bit dhjsbdne anyway :3

TW’s FOR BELOW THE CUT: Descriptions of wounds ; Anxiety attack ; Ryker punches something he probably shouldn’t (the floor and makes his knuckles bleed)

WC: 1221

The minute Ryker’s feet touched the floor of the hangar, he felt like he could collapse into a pile on the floor. There was a deep ache in his bones, and his head felt like it was pounding each time he blinked. His skin was freezing, and his clothes felt disgusting. It took him a solid minute to recognize he needed to move his feet to get going.

His ankle throbbed. It fucking hurt. His side also hurt, probably wasn’t the best idea to get shot, but it happened.

He muttered something to Nik as he passed by, probably thanking the Russian man but he was too tired to even use proper words. He could’ve said complete nonsense—but he didn’t need to think about that right now. Ryker needed to get his head on straight and get his ass to Price’s office for a debrief. (Even though he really, really didn’t want to do it.)

Ryker already knew how the conversation was going to play out. The mission had gone to shit and snowballed downhill. The guy he’d been tracking for that entire week? Yeah, well, turns out- it was the wrong fucker the whole time. (Ryker had been told that he would possibly get the slip. The victim was amazing when it came to slipping out from under people’s noses.)

The mission was a failure from the start. Ryker hadn’t been given the right information for who he was supposed to be looking for — the intel area was wrong, the team information was wrong, everything was wrong. This hadn’t been Ryker’s best work, and he knew it. The man he’d been tracking (stalking) had turned out to be the wrong fucker, and slipped off. Without anyone knowing. (Ryker took great pride in his work, and anything less than his best was unacceptable in his eyes.) — Ryker’s mouth felt dry as he explained to Price about the entire thing, and each sigh or grunt from the older man felt like a hot knife against his back.

‘Pull your shit together, Sergeant. We’ve got jobs to do, and we’ve gotta get them right. Don’t go pulling another stunt like this. We can’t afford it. Dismissed.’

When Price finally waved Ryker off (after giving the man a less than savory report back), Ryker practically scampered off with his tail between his legs. He was so… so— he didn’t know. He ran a shaking hand through his hair, sighing unevenly. He needed to take a shower and get the fuck into his bed. He knew that. But the idea of stepping under the water after nearly drowning himself (twice) on that mission was enough to make him steer clear and decide a shower was better in the morning.

Instead, he decided to head down the hall. Taking a quick pause at Declan’s door and leaving a (well hidden) bag near it — the wine he’d mentioned days ago, and some other fun bits and bobs. He figured Declan would find it eventually. He quickly headed off, and stopped at Feiyun’s door; hand freezing on the handle. Normally, he’d just walk in and get comfortable in the bed, soundly curled up behind her — but he took a look at the state of himself, and realized that something in his chest constricted uncomfortably at the idea of her seeing him this… vulnerable? Not like him.

So he did the same thing—he hid the bag of items well (a book, a little stuffed capybara and a necklace that… he thought looked really pretty.) and quickly moved on. Ryker dipped into his bunk and closed the door behind him, immediately feeling weight slide off his shoulders. He fumbled out of his work gear and only realized then his hands were shaking.

Ryker paused for a moment, staring as his hands shook as the adrenaline of everything finally cleared from his head. He swallowed hard and tried to ignore the little voice in his head that nagged at him, and as he pulled his shirt off he winced.

His side had a shot wound that was very red and inflamed, and the blood had congealed around it grossly - making his shirt stick to him. Ryker wanted to throw up the minute he looked at it, having to forcefully calm his racing heart as he searched for the little emergency med kit he kept around. Sure, there were some medics still awake, but Ryker would’ve rather died than let them see him like this. (He couldn’t stand the thought of anyone seeing him injured and open like a wounded animal, cornered.)

His stitch job was shitty, and he knew he should probably get someone to properly fix him up in the morning. Badger probably—maybe a different medic. He couldn’t bring this to Feiyun, she didn’t need to know her partner was like this. (The idea of her seeing him like this made his skin crawl)

Ryker sat back against his door, the cold material a bit uncomfortable against his back. He let his head fall back against it and sat there silently for a moment.

He was off his game that entire week. This was his shit- he was supposed to be good in tracking and good at shooting. Instead he got the wrong information and followed the wrong lead and almost shot the wrong guy. All of it was wrong—he always took such care with his work, what the fuck went wrong? Why the fuck did it go wrong? Ryker just—he scrubbed his hands over his face and felt his shoulders grow tense again.

Ryker’s work was almost always near perfect—almost. He took such care, and always tried to make sure he didn’t miss anything. It’s why he’d been promoted to a Staff Sergeant in the Task Force. He couldn’t understand why he was getting sloppy. Sure he was tired, and felt like he was always running on empty, and honestly felt like he was so close to burning everything around him and crashing hard. His throat suddenly got tight, and he let the back of his head hit the door again.

His vision began to swim and blur, and his head suddenly felt so foggy. Ryker crumbled against his door, fingers pressing hard against his temples as he fought to keep himself in tact. Fuck, he felt like he was dying. His chest constricted and crushed his lungs — it felt like the weight of everything was crushing him again; the constant need to keep up, to keep that air of perfection, that act of confidence that everyone seemed to believe (when really he still felt like a small child who was so scared all the time).

“FUCK!” Ryker’s body acted faster than his brain could handle, and in a desperate attempt for any kind of control — he cracked his fist against the hard floor of his dorm, the skin on his knuckles splitting open and leaving small red droplets breaking out across them. Ryker stared at his wounded hand listlessly for a moment, before letting his head hit his knees. Maybe it was time to take up Price’s suggestion of the base therapist…

Ignoring how his eyes suddenly felt warm and his cheeks wet, Ryker lazily pulled on some better sleepwear and collapsed into his cot. And if anyone asked about his—everything—tomorrow, he’d make up some fun heroic story. Like he always did.

[jam3sacaster]

Because I knew you, I have been changed for good. PT.1

(Rivals) Taggie O’Hara x Reader (Platonic)

Suggestion by a sweet anon 🫶🏽 / You, Rupert Campbell-Black’s daughter, make it your mission to befriend Taggie O’Hara.

18+ FANFIC / Platonic love! Mentions of Rupert & Bas. Reader character aged at 21. Maybe a few parts? Hope you enjoy! 🩷

Taggie O’Hara, locked away in her turret bedroom like Rapunzel imprisoned in her tower, held a ruffled forest green chiffon dress to her figure, tilting her head in indecision. Summer was fast approaching, and the sun grew mellow and vivid, coaxing vibrant patches of indigo geraniums and coral pink hydrangeas into life. “Tag, no. That is disgusting.” Caitlin O’Hara spat, protruding her tongue and mock gagging. “What are you dressing up for, anyway? You don’t go anywhere.” She continued, splaying herself across Taggie’s bed and flicking through a glossy magazine. “I’m catering Rupert’s garden party. He told me to wear something nice.” She muttered, now holding a yellow taffeta dress in front of the mirror. “Definitely don’t wear that.” Caitlin tutted, despite not looking up from her magazine.

-

Some hours later, Taggie had packed containers of ambrosial boeuf bourguignon, prawn vol-au-vents, homemade chicken kyiv’s, and all manner of food that she remembered Rupert adored, into the rusted old Mini and was beginning the short drive up to Penscombe Court. As she pulled into the driveway, she took sight of the marvellous party Rupert was hosting. Majestic white marquees with empty tables awaiting Taggie’s decoration. Champagne flutes galore and a sea of brightly-dressed women in cocktail dresses, trailing after suited businessmen and politicians.

Clutching the tupperware desperately between her arms, Taggie stumbled into the garden, keeping her eyes fixed on her feet as to not meet the disapproving glances of the crowd. “Well done, angel. This looks incredible.” Rupert Campbell-Black spoke from behind her, planting his hand firmly on her shoulder. Her heart fluttered frantically as she spun round and began to decorate the elongated table with her food. “I hope it’s good enough. I made the dishes you suggested, and then a few others.” She grinned, batting her lengthy, wispy eyelashes towards him. Wow, Rupert thought to himself, she is beautiful.

You, however, was in the midst of an incredibly monotonous conversation with Basil Baddingham, your honorary uncle. “Bas, shut up a second. Who the fuck is that?” You asked, raising your hand to silence him and knocking back your glass of champagne like a shot. Partly irritated with being interrupted mid-flow, Basil raised his head to meet your sightline — a roguish grin beginning to tug at his lips. “That, my darling, is Taggie O’Hara. Declan’s daughter. Your dad’s got a bit of a crush on her.” Your fist clenched in envy until your knuckles grew white. The thought of your dad moving on from your mother, with whom he’d split from some ten years ago, made you enraged. Snatching Bas’ glass of champagne, you marched towards them.

“Dad! I’m so incredibly bored. When is this thing over?” You whined, resting your temple against his shoulder. Taggie’s eyes widened in a concoction of wild perplexity and utter horror. “It’s only just begun!” Rupert exclaimed, rubbing your back consolingly. “Darling, this is Taggie. Make sure to help her, and don’t let her work too hard.” He beamed, which made Taggie blush furiously, and strode towards Declan who had just arrived with Maud.

Instantaneously reverting back to her work, Taggie continued to laden the white table with her food, decorating it lavishly. “So, Taggie, you’re the cook, are you?” You asked, pinching a vol-au-vent from the metal plate and stuffing it into your mouth. “I’m a cook, yes. I didn’t know Rupert had a daughter, he never mentioned…” Taggie trailed off as she spoke, chomping down on her tongue to stop herself. “I bet he didn’t. He never does to the women that he wants to get into the pants of.” You spat. You wanted to be furious at Taggie, to despise her. But, as you studied her in great detail, all you could see was her kind, glittering eyes and her compassionate smile. “You weren’t just invited to do the food, were you?” You asked, hardened expression softening. Taggie was evidently grateful for this — she shot you a glimpse of her affectionate grin as she finished displaying the food. “N-no. I hope not. I insisted on cooking, but I know your Dad would’ve wanted me to anyway.” Taggie mutters, mopping her brow with the back of her hand.

“Drink?” You asked, waving a full glass of champagne under her nose. “N-no. I’ll have to serve soon.” She shook her head, wiping her hands down her yellow taffeta dress. “No way! Let them serve themselves, they’ll all be too pissed to notice anyway. Honestly, Tag.” You reaffirmed, pushing the glass further towards her. It took a few moments for her to decide, but she did eventually and took a ravenous gulp. “Is that your dress?” You asked, lighting a cigarette and leaning against the table, wind beginning to billow at the thin fabric of the marquee. “Yes. Do you like it?” She asked, a grin turning to horror as she noticed the unsightly brown stains from the bouef bourguignon swept across her dress. “No. And even more so no, now it’s covered in beef. I’ve got too many dresses, if you want to change?” Your raised eyebrows framed your mischievous grin perfectly. Swiping an unopened bottle of champagne, you took a hold of her hand and set off from the garden.

A cacophony of giggles and thunderous footsteps followed the pair of you as you bounded up the staircase, throwing open your door and collapsing onto your bed. Drunkenly hobbling, you slid open the closet door and presented Taggie with numerous pink dresses — a heap of chiffon, lace, silk and cotton. As Taggie held each one up to her figure in front of the mirror, you chugged at your fizzing bottle of champagne and glared at her, alcohol seeping into your pulsating veins. “My Dad. Do you love him?” You interrogated, and feel slightly reprehensible as you observe Taggie’s melancholic manner. “No! Of course not.” She lied, cheeks rouging in flustered sorrow. “Are you lying?” You continued to question, handing her an intricately laced salmon-pink cocktail dress. Taggie didn’t reply — but began to peel the repulsive yellow fabric from her curvaceous body.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I’ve never seen him look at anybody like that before. So, Tag, my darling, we must shape you up. I will make it my life’s mission!” You exclaim, dashing to your vanity table and pulling out your makeup bag. Agatha will be your friend before she is your stepmother, you will make certain of it.

“Whatever way our stories end, I know you have rewritten mine by being my friend.”

[shadowqueenjude]

Ranking the top 10 most pathetic SJM men

10: Ithan Holstrom Come on, if you didn't think him simping for Bryce after knowing her for like 5 seconds was pathetic then idk what is. Also, him being mad about the Fendyr heir being enslaved and stealing fire sprites for revenge will never not be hilarious

9: Fenrys Moonbeam Bro was so desperate to escape Maeve that he almost killed himself. Then he had that "You'd rather my queen die than your king" line. Like bro is Aelin's dog at this point.

8. Eris Vanserra Thanks to @kateduchessofdolittle for making me see how pathetic Eris is.

-Fiancee goes to *great lengths* to get out their engagement. After all that, bro still bailed her out by dealing with her father Keir in ACOSF

- Got to be a passive little bitch to monster father

- seems to be a surrogate father to the *worst* people

- he's giving mama's boy

- his allies taunt him with another engagement and she laughs in his face too

At least he has his dogs.

7. Hunt Athalar Not sure how to explain this one. It's just the *vibes*

6. Tarquin Poor Tarquin. I felt so bad for him during that Feyre-Tarquin scene in ACOMAF (one of these days I shall write the Feyquin fanfic and rectify Feyre's mistakes here).

5. Ruhn Danaan You may be surprised Ruhn is so high up on this list. But bro, Hypaxia duped him so badly. Also, he was so desperate to get back in his sister Bryce's good books. Here are just a few examples from the book:

Ruhn bared his teeth at Maximus as the glowering vamp headed toward the golden steps. “Riso called me a few minutes ago and said you were here. With that fucking creep.” “Excuse me?” Her voice sharpened. It had nothing to do with the fact that she highly doubted the diplomatic club owner had used those terms. Riso was more the type to say, She’s with someone who might cause the dancing to cease. Which would have been Riso’s idea of Hel. Ruhn said, “Riso can’t risk tossing Tertian to the curb—he implied the prick was being handsy and you needed backup.” A purely predatory gleam entered her brother’s eyes. “Don’t you know what Tertian’s father does?” She grinned, and knew it didn’t reach her eyes. None of her smiles did these days. “I do,” she said sweetly. Ruhn shook his head in disgust. Bryce leaned forward to grab her drink, each movement controlled—if only to keep from taking the water and throwing it in his face. “Shouldn’t you be home?” Ruhn asked. “It’s a weekday. You’ve got work in six hours.” “Thanks, Mom,” she said.

She just opened the door. “If you hear anything about the Viper Queen, call me.” Ruhn stiffened, his heart thundering. “Do not provoke her.” “Bye, Ruhn.” He was desperate enough that he said, “I’ll go with you to—” “Bye.”

She flinched as Ruhn said at her ear, “You don’t need to see this.” This was another murder. Another body. Another year. A medwitch even knelt before the body, a wand buzzing with firstlight in her hands, trying to piece the corpse—the girl—back together. Ruhn tugged her away, toward the screen and open air beyond— The movement shook her loose. Snapped the droning in her ears. She yanked her body free from his grip, not caring if anyone else saw, not caring that he, as head of the Fae Aux units, had the right to be here. “Don’t fucking touch me.” Ruhn’s mouth tightened. But he looked over her shoulder to Hunt. “You’re an asshole.”

Ruhn was in the apartment lobby when Fury dropped her off. Tharion left them at the docks, saying he was going to help haul in the seized synth shipment, and Fury departed fast enough that Bryce knew she was heading out to make sure the Viper Queen didn’t abscond with any of it, either. Ruhn said nothing as they rode the elevator. But she knew Fury had told him. Summoned him here. Her friend had been messaging someone on the walk back from the docks. And she’d spied Flynn and Declan standing guard on the rooftops of her block, armed with their long-range rifles. Her brother didn’t speak until they were in the apartment, the place dark and hollow and foreign. Every piece of clothing and gear belonging to Hunt was like an asp, ready to strike. That bloodstain on the couch was the worst of all. Bryce made it halfway across the great room before she puked all over the carpet. Ruhn was instantly there, his arms and shadows around her. She could feel her sobs, hear them, but they were distant. The entire world was distant as Ruhn picked her up and carried her to the couch, keeping away from that spot where she’d yielded herself entirely to Hunt. But he made no comment about the bloodstain or any lingering scent. 4. Lucien Vanserra (or Spell-Cleaver? Vanserra sounds better)

Ah, Lucien, Lucien, Lucien. My poor baby just wants somebody to marry him. Does it get any more pathetic than "I'm a mated male now?" My man prepares for rejection every holiday without fail. He and Lucien did not exchange gifts, though the male had brought a gift for Feyre and one for his mate, who barely thanked him after opening the pearl earrings. Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing. 3. Chaol Westfall I don't think many people remember Lithaen, but Chaol was in love with her and she fucked Dorian's cousin instead. Also there was this:

Babe, ily but wtf. You ran into a different fucking dimension to save your ex-girlfriend's DOG??? Talk about pathetic. 2. Lorcan Salvaterre Bro abandoned the queen he served more loyally than any of the rest of the cadre the moment a tiny little human with witch blood showed a little cleavage and bossed him around. Bro wanted to be someone's bitch SO BAD. He RIPPED his shirts up for her periods even after she refused to even speak with him and said she hopes he's miserable and spends the rest of his life alone (and threatened to gut Rowan and Gavriel if they ever told her it was him). He swore a blood oath to his greatest enemy just to protect her and lost the will to live when she called him a monster. Absolutely fucking pathetic and we love him for it. 1. Tamlin It was a close fight to first, but nobody can beat Tamlin in the pathetic category. For one, of all the love interests we have seen, he is in possession of the least rizz. Negative rizz, actually. Lucien actually roasted him so badly for his negative rizz, and Lucien personally backed off so Tamlin and his negative rizz could rizz up Feyre. Bro sacrificed all of PRYTHIAN to keep Feyre safe, bartered with his enemy to get her back, only to have her destroy his court. Even after that, he saved her life at the Hybern camp and revived her mate. And unlike the others above, he didn't get the girl, and probably won't get any girl, actually. We could always put him up for adoption and one of the members of the fandom can take him? Maybe??? Maybe @kateduchessofdolittle will take him.