#no because it's not too often you see a bill that would have a direct and immediate impact on someone you know. just like bam. right away.

[alessiamalfoyzabini]

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞

Pairing | Yandere Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 2,382

Warnings | +18, bullying, for the moment only this

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | If she had paid attention earlier to the sin that dwelt behind those obsidian irises, she would never have trusted it.

If she had noticed earlier the devouring love that dwelled in his corrupt heart, she probably would have fled.

She had done none of that, and now she had to come to terms with her new reality.

➢ Author's Note | This work originated in Italian, so i apologize for any errors you will find, i am not a native english speaker, so go ahead and write in the comments where and what i can improve! 🥺❤

Chapter List - I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII / The End

There was something in the air that day, something that weighed down her chest and left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth.

She looked outside her room and saw large gray clouds looming ominously, it was probably an approaching storm, and even so, she would still have to go to school, she could not escape her school obligations.

She had done so much to escape the harsh judgment of her family members, she knew that attending college was a huge expense for her parents, especially for being an out-of-towner with so much rent and bills to pay, so the only thing she could do to repay them was to get good grades and come out with a more than excellent GPA, without mentioning her problems.

So the girl prepared herself for yet another stressful and gloomy day, surrounded by prof's coaches and daddy's boys who wouldn't stop bragging about their possessions for a moment.

She adjusted her jacket and grabbed the bag containing all the necessary books, grabbed the house keys on the fly and locked the door behind her, not before nodding in the direction of the elderly neighbor who came out with her adorable little wagging dog every morning at that hour.The little Maltese barked in her direction and with a smile walked over to the couple, stroking the soft coat of the dog who, excited, hoisted himself up on two paws, accompanying her caresses with his head. Y/N burst out laughing at that warm expression of appreciation, could it be that only a dog was able to accept it without judgment?

"Do you go to school, Y/N?" asked the lady with a smile.

The girl nodded, "That's right, Mrs. Choi...I have a test today, I hope everything goes well."

"Oh, take it easy, my dear. I really feel that something new will happen for you today," the elderly woman's smile widened and Y/N was interjected.

She was no stranger to the strange outings of the woman, who very often seemed absent-minded and pensive, but a strange chill caught her. She tried to dilute the air with a giggle, "I hope it's also something good," she joked lightly, the woman rippled her lips.

"It depends on your point of view," she shrugged.

Y/N's smile faded away, not wanting to inquire further she decided it was getting quite late and waved a little awkwardly to her wacky neighbor, giving one last caress to the little dog, who continued to bark in her direction, trying to call her back.

"Come on, Y/N...you can get through this day too without too many hiccups," she said to herself, trying to mentally build up her courage. She arrived at the university with a lump in her throat, aware that once she entered the classroom she would see the haughty faces of her classmates again.

She was an outcast and the only classmate with whom she had come to form a decent bond of friendship had to change her address because that faculty was not suitable for her. But to say that she had simply grown tired of being bullied was perhaps easier.

She took a deep breath and entered the classroom, as she presaged, smiles filled with mockery accompanied her all the way to her seat, she took out the appropriate book for that hour of class and ignored everyone, no one however lent her a further glance, the arrival of the teacher had nipped in the bud any attempt at mockery.

Taking a test at the first hour was never easy for anyone, but the girl more than gladly accepted that chance to escape her foolish classmates.

She carried out the task in complete silence, interrupted only briefly by a few balls of paper and notes, some asking her to have her copied, others admonishing her not to sully their own air with her presence. Y/N swallowed, such doggedness seen from an outside eye might have seemed surreal, but to her it was normalcy.

They bothered her just for the sake of it, because she was the one without money, she was the unfashionable girl, she lived in a miserable apartment in a miserable neighborhood, she was everything they were not.

"Psst... Psst, little one!"

Y/N initially ignored that low whisper, but at yet another ball thrown at her head, she turned away in annoyance.

This was Kang Yoozu, one of the boys who worked hardest to make her school life a living hell; he seemed to take pleasure in constant torture and Y/N was often one of his favorite victims.

"What the hell do you want?!" she growled, impatient. He shrugged, "I just wanted to ask you if you were free later."

Y/N frowned, what was that jerk saying?

"Why would you care, Yoozu?" she asked, strangled.

A wicked smile spread across the classmate's face, "Your parents are street food vendors, right? How much can they possibly make per month?"

Y/N found herself gritting her teeth, ignoring the amused exclamations of the others; the professor seemed to have disappeared into thin air, which frustrated the girl even more.

"I don't know what you're getting at, but I suggest you shut your mouth," she said harshly and Yoozu's eyes narrowed.

"I'm just wondering how they were keep you, don't you think it's incumbent on them to lighten their load and earn money in other ways?"

The young woman blanched at the outrageous statement-what the fuck was she implying?! "And let's hear it-what would those ways be?" she rose from her chair under everyone's gaze.

Yoozu looked around with feigned interest, then elbowed his seatmate, chuckling.

"Well, I have a lot of money, a fuck or two wouldn't hurt, don't you think? You would earn honestly on your own strength," the whole class erupted in convulsive laughter, Y/N felt humiliated. She had endured much from them, had swallowed a myriad of bitter morsels, but no, that one would not let her get away with it.

In a very brief instant she found herself facing the smug boy who stared at her with satisfaction, and soon the scarlet shape of five perfectly outlined fingers was stamped on the candid face of that being, a being who for two years had made it unbearable for her to study for a better future. The noise was a dull pop and everyone fell silent.

Yoozu's eyes turned icy, and soon he jerked up from his chair, flipping it behind him.

"You dared too much, beggar" he made to approach threateningly, no one would intervene, she knew, but fortunately the professor's voice stopped whatever was about to happen.

"What the heck is going on in this class? Y/N! Yoozu! Go back to your seats immediately before I suspend your test."

The man's threatening voice made the boy take a step back, Y/N went back to her seat, but she felt the threatening gaze of her companion behind her the rest of the time, until the end of the hour sounded and everyone got up to leave their verifications on the professor's desk, who collected all the papers and added something to the register, which Y/N guessed was about her and Yoozu. A sick feeling invaded her stomach, she did not want her average to drop because of a bastard like Kang Yoozu, he had practically invited her to prostitute herself. With him.

Disgusted she took the art sketchbook from her bag, a small smile was born on her lips.

Classes with Professor Jeon always gave her a chance to get through the day in a slightly more uplifted mood.

He was a young boy ready to put himself on the front lines to help his students, older than her by five years, he had found a place in the university where he had studied because all the school staff thought he was deserving of getting a professorship there. And, Y/N admitted at least to herself, he was handsome as well as kind and helpful. She felt her heartbeat increase when her favorite professor made his entrance into the classroom, greeting all his pupils with a bright smile, exchanged a few words with the older professor who gave way to him, and during that conversation the girl clearly heard the excited murmurs of her classmates. They did not think much about it, giving vent to their shamelessly enamored sighs.

Y/N merely shrugged her shoulders as the young professor took a seat behind the desk and gave everyone a jovial look.

"Good morning, guys" he said quietly, a chorus of "good morning" and "hello" rose from the desks.

Y/N watched spellbound as the corner of his lips slightly lifted in a satisfied smile of the man, her professor's long hair that day was tied in a ponytail that the girl found damn adorable, which contrasted with the tattoos that decorated the entire arm left uncovered by the pulled-up shirt sleeve, the man crossed his arms and his biceps swelled in a hypnotic movement that caught the girl unprepared, she felt her body set on fire and with shame removed her gaze.

What she did not know was that Jungkook was also watching her. He never let her out of his sight, in truth.

From the first time he had caught her rushing into the classroom, wet as a tender chick, Jungkook could not help but feel a strange flutter every time he laid eyes on his pupil. Their eyes had met for the first time that day, a rush had gone through him from side to side, thunderstruck by that little figure who had bowed in apology over and over again.

And it was wrong, he should never have taken an interest in one of his students like that, but he was a man, a man with secret feelings and appetites, and everything about Y/N screamed timidity and fragility.

He wanted to protect her, wanted to take her away, wanted to make her his.

He knew about the way her classmates treated her, his colleagues sometimes talked about it during lunch breaks, this was terrible for him, it hurt him to even imagine the way the girl felt, he would have protected her if it was possible, but each time the bullying happened in his absence, and as a professor he could do nothing if Y/N herself did not ask for help. He could not punish the perpetrators without catching them in the act. The young man sighed, before lowering his eyes to the register, frowning at what he found written there.

"Park Y/N and Kang Yoozu were found standing during testing time, they looked like they were about to start a fight, I intervened in time to put them in their place."

Jungkook gritted his teeth as he read his student's name next to Y/N's.

The girl was too quiet a person to provoke a quarrel, his dark irises stopped on Yoozu, who was giggling along with his partner as his scribbled something in sketchbook.

Y/N, on the other hand, waited quietly and composedly for her class to begin, and that told Jungkook a lot about the dynamics of the strange event described by his colleague.

He rose from his chair clearing his throat, all eyes were soon on him.

He sensed the mischievous glances of the girls in his direction, he knew he was very much desired, after all he was the only young professor in the institution, but he did not let those attentions buy him, the only gaze he wanted on himself was that of the same girl who was anxiously crushing her fingers.

He leaned back against the desk, crossing his arms again, and in Y/N's gaze he read something very much like... desire? He looked at her, biting his lips for a thousandth of a second, clenching the tender flesh between his teeth, but that minimal amount of time was enough for the girl to widen her eyes and lower them immediately afterward, her cheeks flushed. Jungkook felt himself tightening in his pants, thinking that he was so adorable that he wanted to fuck her right then, in front of everyone.

He would have gladly made her cry as his cock penetrated her deeply.

"Guys, today I'm not going to talk to you about history and artists," he began, his voice crystal clear and smooth, "But about a subject that, unfortunately, will never stop being talked about," he paused behind Yoozu's desk.

He observed the lines drawn by the boy on the once-clean page, Yoozu made to cover his scrawl, but Jungkook was quick to catch him, "Let me see a bit, Kang," he said, before taking a better look at that jumble of shapeless lines, which took on the appearance of a naked girl with a tear-streaked face, there was a uniform at the corner of the paper and a bag, which Jungkook immediately recognized, raised an eyebrow in the boy's direction and returned the object to him, not without first tearing up the page, "Drawing your companions without clothes is not what I asked you to do, Yoozu.

Employ my hour to draw something in good taste, instead of indulging in such disgusting antics," the man scolded him harshly. The student bowed his head, humiliated, apologetically, and his deskmate turned away, as if to put some distance between himself and his friend, which the teacher laughed at internally. It was precisely people like Yoozu who had no friends.

Jungkook finally turned around and walked in Y/N's direction, stopped just behind her and lowered himself until he reached her ear, "Today's lesson is about bullying," he murmured, the girl felt her legs trembling under his low and sweet tone, she meekly nodded, writing on a vacant page the theme, then Jungkook raised his voice slightly, "I would like you all to draw a representation of bullying, also writing a small dedication to the kids who experience it firsthand."

When the young teacher turned away from her, Y/N resumed breathing normally.

Everyone caught the stinging reference, the girl gazed admiringly at Jungkook's strong shoulders, perfectly aligned in a proud posture that Y/N had no trouble finding attractive, clutched the pencil grip and set to work, unaware of the forbidden desire she aroused moment by moment in her teacher.

[andshesaidwhat]

Cherry - Clay Beresford

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six |

Summary: Clay Beresford was one of Manhattan’s most notorious playboys. His name, and the money that came with it, garnered him a big reputation. Bored of the spotlight and in need of a distraction, Clay ventures to a hole-in-the-wall strip club in the Lower East Side. When he sees you walk out on that stage, he knows at once that you could be the one to rewrite his story.

Warnings: stripper!reader, playboy!Clay, reader works at a strip club and a lot of the story takes place there, descriptions of sex work, reader has a tragic backstory, mentions of abuse, mentions of homelessness, alcohol consumption, Clay doesn’t have heart problems, eventual smut, pining, angst, Clay has a savior complex, reader doesn’t know how to have non-transactional relationships.

Playlist / Masterlist

Clay Beresford nursed a glass of whiskey as he tried to tune out the droning of yet another young entrepreneur giving him a business pitch.

He went through the motions — nodding and humming, asking the occasional question, taking the knock-off business card — in hopes that they would be satisfied and leave him to his night.

All he wanted was to have a drink and relax, but everywhere he went he was bombarded by people who saw him as an opportunity instead of a person.

He supposed it came with the territory of carrying the Beresford name. He’d inherited an empire from his father, vile as he was, and essentially walked around with dollar signs flashing above his head.

He wasn’t ungrateful for his life, nor did he stray away from the benefits it gave him, he was just…frustrated. He never knew if the people in his life were there because they wanted to know him or because they wanted to know his money. More often than not, it was the latter.

He needed a distraction — something that made him feel a sense of normalcy for once. He finished the last of his whiskey, setting the empty glass down on the marble bar top. He offered a polite goodbye to the bartender and the scrambling businessman before grabbing his coat and walking out of the building.

His driver was already waiting for him outside and he climbed into the backseat of the black SUV, mumbling vague directions as he rubbed at his temples. The driver gave him an odd look in the rear view mirror, but didn’t question it as he drove off toward the Lower East Side.

Clay didn’t venture to this area of Manhattan often — hardly ever, actually — but, when he did, nobody ever noticed him. They had their own lives to deal with and didn’t need to be obsessed with his.

Maybe that was what was drawing him here this time. He wanted to be able to slink into the shadows, just for a little while.

As they drove, Clay watched the city pass from the car window. He cocked his head in interest as they passed a joint with a bright red sign flashing above it.

The Silk Rose.

A gentleman’s club. He snorted, doubting there were any gentlemen in there at all. Still, his interest was piqued. Maybe a night in a sleazy club watching girls dance around in lingerie was exactly what he needed.

He told his driver to park up the street a bit, careful not to draw too much attention to himself. With his hands in his pockets, he kept his head down as he made his way over to the entrance.

The windows and doors were blacked out, preventing any prying eyes from peeking in.

Perfect, he thought. This was just the kind of privacy he was looking for.

He grabbed the door handle, glancing up at the tagline written above his head.

Come on in and see Sal’s Dancing Girls!

The night had been slower for you than usual.

There were the regulars, sitting in their normal spots, but you’d barely broken $250 and hadn’t gotten a single private room booking. Granted, private dances certainly weren’t your favorite part of the job, but they were what made the big bucks. You could handle a creep or two if it meant your bills were paid.

You sat in the dressing room backstage, touching up your makeup and rubbing at your feet that were from the tall heels you wore as you waited for your next set. The area was bustling with the other dancers, all in different states of undress and disarray.

You didn’t mind what you did. You liked dancing — although you’d thought you’d be pursuing dance in a different direction than where you’d ended up. You weren’t forced into this life, like some of the others. You were here by choice. It just maybe wasn’t your first choice.

You were confident in it, though. You knew how to work a room. You knew how to manipulate sleazy men into emptying their wallets. You were always in control.

You certainly didn’t need anyone to save you.

You heard the last song of the previous dancer’s set end and took one more look in the mirror. You removed your robe and adjusted the skimpy costume before taking a deep breath and walking toward the back of the stage.

Showtime.

Clay sat at the bar, prying his glass up from the sticky table and taking a sip as one of the dancers exited the stage. He watched as the workers swept up the money that had been thrown, gathering it into a bag before bringing it to the back.

She’d been fine. Her set was pretty par for the course as far as Clay could expect. He’d still found himself zoning out or focusing more on his drink than her dancing.

After the stage was fully cleared off, the lights dimmed to a deep red as a new song started. It was like the energy in the room shifted. Suddenly, everyone was waiting with bated breath as the next dancer took the stage.

Clay sat up straighter in his seat, setting his glass down as the spotlight hit the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He was captivated, mesmerized. Even the way you walked was enticing. He leaned forward, hanging on to every move you made.

He wasn’t the only one, either. You had the entire room wrapped around your finger.

Clay watched as you worked the stage, feeling the energy from the crowd. Then, you began to dance.

He felt breathless. His heart was pounding beneath his chest. The way you moved was like a song in and of itself. You were the music. Your movements told a story and he was very, very curious to unravel it.

You fell into the rhythmic routine, working the stage like you owned it — and, in that moment, you did. The lights warmed your skin as you moved your body to the sensual beat of the music, putting on a tantalizing show of removing bits of your costume until you were left in lingerie.

You scanned the audience, as you normally did, looking for anyone who seemed easy to reel in. People would be surprised at how many extra tips you get when the lonely people in the crowd think you’ve noticed them. However, this time, your eyes landed on one man in particular.

You hadn’t seen him at this club before, but he looked vaguely familiar — and devilishly handsome. He seemed to be transfixed on you, so you let your eyes stay locked with his.

The crystalline blue pulled you in, but there was something else about the way he was looking at you. You were used to stares of lust, envy, even ownership — but he was gazing at you with pure interest. The kind of interest that went beyond physical attraction. He wasn’t just watching you take your clothes off. He was watching you dance.

As the music of your last song faded out you gave the crowd a grin and a wave, winking at the handsome stranger before exiting the stage.

You walked back to your vanity, plopping down in the chair with a tired huff. One of the staff members brought you the bag with your tips and you sorted through it, counting the bills. It wasn’t bad, but it could’ve been better.

You groaned, tired of the slow night, and glanced at the clock. There was only a little over an hour left in your shift.

“What’s wrong, babycakes?”

You turned your head to face the dancer whose vanity was next to yours. She had her chin propped on her hand as she looked at you, her bright pink hair pinned to the top of her head.

Frenchie was the name she went by. She was the only dancer that ever had actual conversations with you. She was nice, if a bit eccentric, and you were grateful for the friendly face.

“Just a slow night, French,” you sighed, shrugging your shoulders.

She scoffed, taking a drag of a cigarette as she said, “Shit, doll. If it’s a slow night for you then it’s a wasteland for the rest of us.”

Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you asked, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, please,” Frenchie sigh, playfully rolling her eyes. “You’re the fan favorite, babes. Everyone here knows it. That’s why I’m the only one who talks to you.”

You swatted your hand at her with a laugh, shaking your head as you smiled. You spotted your boss, Sal, walking up behind you in your mirror and you tilted your head back to look at him.

“Someone’s requesting you,” he said, gruff as always.

“See?” Frenchie said, sticking her tongue out at you.

You stuck your tongue out back at her before turning back to Sal. “Who is it?”

“Does it matter? He’s paying,” he grunted, shrugging as he rolled his eyes. “It’s room four.”

Sal walked out of the dressing room as you touched up your hair and makeup, glancing over at Frenchie as she prepared to go do her set on stage.

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” she said, smacking your ass as she walked past you.

“Knock ‘em dead, French,” you called out after her, laughing softly.

You took a deep, steadying breath as you walked down the long hallway, readying yourself to face whatever greaseball would be waiting for you. This was where you made the most money, it just also happened to be the part you hated the most.

You stopped outside of the door labeled with the big number 4 and gave a silent plea to whatever was out there that this would go by smoothly.

To your delight, you didn’t see any of the sleazy regulars when you opened the door. Instead, you saw the handsome stranger who had been watching you so intently during your set.

A sultry smile pulled at your lips as you locked eyes with him. You weren’t supposed to enjoy these sessions — this was work, after all, and you were doing a job — but it didn’t hurt when the clients looked this pretty.

“I was hoping it was you that requested me,” you said, walking into the room with a sway of your hips.

It was true, but you would’ve said it regardless. That was the job. Make them feel seen and important so that they handed over more money.

The handsome stranger’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at you, seeming to relax into the moment.

“I’m happy not to let you down, then,” he said, his voice low and husky. “Please, join me.”

He gestured over to a bottle of champagne resting in a bucket of ice by the plush leather couch. His gaze lingered on you as you walked into the room, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. He felt a sense of excitement building within him — an anticipation that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Your eyes almost widened. Champagne? You were lucky to get so much as a polite introduction when you worked these rooms. You hadn’t ever had a customer provide refreshments. By the looks of the bottle, it wasn’t the cheap kind either.

Who was this man and why did he feel so familiar?

“So, tell me,” he said, pouring some of the champagne into a glass and offering it to you, “what’s your name?”

You kept up your performance facade, taking the glass from him and batting your lashes.

“It’s in poor form to ask personal details of the dancers,” you tutted, a teasing smile adorning your lips. “You can call me Cherry.”

All of the dancers had names that you went by. Yours just so happened to be Cherry. The name held a certain significance to you and you were grateful for the protection of identity — in more ways than one.

“Ah, Cherry,” he smiled, the name sitting nicely on his tongue. “I like that. I’m Clay.”

He paused for a moment, studying you as if he was waiting for some kind of reaction. When he didn’t get one, he nodded with a small smile and relaxed into the couch.

“I hope you enjoy the champagne,” he said, bringing his own glass to his lips. “I thought it might make you more comfortable while we…talk.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, taking a sip of the delicious bubbles. People who rented these rooms didn’t usually want to talk. They wanted you to dance and wanted to see how far they could bend the rules.

There were certain rules that you and the customers had to follow. Neither the dancers nor the customers could be fully nude, the customers and the dancers could not touch each other, and under no circumstances could the dancers maintain personal or intimate relationships with the customers.

Clay seemed…different. He was tempting in all of the wrong ways. You knew you had to tread carefully.

“So, Cherry,” Clay began, throwing an arm across the back of the couch, “what do you like to do for fun?”

A playful smirk pulled at your lips as you asked, “Is this not fun?”

Clay’s eyes lit up at your question and he laughed — a deep, rich sound.

“Oh, it’s definitely fun,” he said, smiling, “but I was thinking more along the lines of getting to know you. I’d love to learn more about you.” He paused, his eyes searching yours. “If you’re willing to share, of course.”

Getting to know you? This guy books a stripper to get to know her?

“Respectable,” you nodded. “Most people just book me to see how close they can get to touching me. You can’t, by the way. Touch me, that is. It’s strictly against the rules.”

You set your champagne glass down on the table and walked over to the stereo to turn on some slow, sensual music.

“You paid for an hour long dance, so I’d be doing a poor job if I didn’t comply,” you said, sauntering back over to him.

You should’ve just started dancing and stuck to your job, but his pretty eyes were so intrigued that you couldn’t say no to him.

“How about this,” you offered, “you ask questions while I dance. Deal?”

Clay’s eyes gleamed with delight as he nodded, clearly pleased with himself.

“Deal,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “Oh, and Cherry?”

He set his glass down before leaning back into the couch with a grin.

“I have to warn you, I’m not very good at following rules.”

You placed your hands on the cushion behind his head, leaning over him as you swayed your hips.

“If you want to keep the session going, you’d better be,” you whispered, warning in your tone. “Otherwise, the fun would be over. So keep your hands by your sides, pretty boy.”

His eyes flashed with amusement as he raised an eyebrow, but he obediently placed his hands at his sides.

“Oh, I’ll be good,” he promised. “I wouldn’t want the fun to stop.”

He trailed his gaze over your figure, watching as you danced.

“Back to my original question, Cherry,” he said, flicking his eyes back up to yours. “What do you like to do when you aren’t…dancing?”

You stood up again, seductively twirling and swaying to the beat as you thought about the question.

You weren’t sure how much you wanted to reveal to him. He was still just a pretty face — a very tempting pretty face. He wasn’t the first person to come in here with delusions of grandeur. You didn’t want him to reel you in.

“I like to read,” you said, rolling your hips. “I like to watch cheesy romance movies, and I’m a damn good cook.”

His eyes sparkled with interest as you answered, his gaze never leaving yours.

“A woman of many talents,” he murmured, a soft smile on his face. He leaned forward slightly as he asked, “What kind of romance movies do you like to watch?”

“The ones with every cliche in the book,” you grinned, swirling around to the music. “I want the sappy love confessions, the angsty miscommunication, and the big fight that leads to the romantic kiss in the rain.”

You leaned over him again, rotating your hips as you bent down to whisper in his ear, “and it’s gotta have a good sex scene.”

Clay’s gaze darkened at your words, his breathing quickening. He felt a surge of desire course through his veins and he had to force himself to remain still, to not reach out and touch you.

He paused for a moment, then asked, “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

You laughed softly in his ear, leaning back up as you continued dancing.

“That kind of thing only exists in fiction, pretty boy,” you said, trying not to sound bitter.

He smiled, cocking his head to the side with a small laugh.

“Maybe,” he replied, his voice dripping with skepticism, “but I think there’s something to be said for the idea that two people can just click, you know?”

He leaned toward, his eyes locked onto yours as he said, “I think maybe we click, Cherry.”

You scoffed, an amused smile etched into your features as you rolled your eyes.

“Do you know how many people come here and claim they fell in love with me? People pay me to give them a show, and I deliver. It’s all transactional. I’m in the business of temporarily filling the vacant holes in people’s lives.”

Clay’s eyes never left yours, his expression tense with something that bordered understanding.

“Yes, I do,” he said, his voice serious. “I’m not naive enough to think that we’re anything more than what we are here tonight…but sometimes, Cherry, I think people need a little bit of fantasy. Just for tonight, let’s forget about life and reality outside of these walls. Let’s just enjoy each other’s company, okay?”

A pretty face that spoke pretty words.

Damn him.

“Fine,” you obliged, smiling despite yourself. “Still, no touching, but you can carry on with your questions.”

“Excellent,” he said, his eyes sparkling with triumph as his mouth curled into a satisfied grin. “What’s the most memorable performance you’ve ever given?”

You smiled, playfully, and responded, “Seventh grade ballet recital, hands down. Not a dry eye in the house.”

“Seventh grade, huh?” Clay chuckled. “I never would’ve guessed. What made it so memorable?”

A fond smile graced your lips as you let your mind reminisce on a memory you didn’t usually let yourself wander to.

“I used to have really terrible stage fright. I’d get under the lights and I’d just freeze. I had been working really hard all year on this solo and I got selected to perform in the recital. Right as I went on stage, I forgot every piece of choreography. I was so panicked, I wanted to run off the stage and hide. Then, I heard the music start and I just…danced. I let the music move me. To this day, it’s still the freest I’ve ever felt.”

You shook your head, instantly regretting the vulnerability.

“Never mind that, though,” you laughed. “You think everything is world changing when you’re that age.”

Clay’s eyes softened, his expression becoming more contemplative. “I think that’s beautiful,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “The fact that you were able to find freedom in that moment, despite your fears and doubts…it’s truly inspiring.” He paused, his gaze lingering on yours. “I think that’s what makes human connection so powerful. We can be ourselves, without apology, and find freedom in that vulnerability.” The skin by his eyes crinkled as he smiled again. “Speaking of which, Cherry…do you believe everyone has a story worth telling?”

“I think there are stories to be found everywhere, if you look hard enough,” you shrugged, refilling his champagne glass.

“Ah, a philosopher, too,” he smirked, his voice ripe with amusement. “I think you might be the most fascinating person I’ve met in a very long time.”

He thought for a moment as he took the champagne glass, then said, “Would you like to hear a story, Cherry?”

“A dance for a story,” you pondered. “I think that’s a fair transaction.”

Clay’s eyes lit up with excitement as he sipped his drink. “Excellent,” he grinned, settling back into the couch. “I’ve always loved the story of Romeo and Juliet. The passion, the tragedy, the love that consumed them both. Imagine if Romeo and Juliet lived in modern times, Cherry. Would they still fall in love? Would they still meet the same fate?”

“I think Romeo and Juliet were two horny teenagers, too naive for their own good,” you smirked, swaying to the music.

Your movements absentmindedly transitioned from sensual to holding the essence of his storytelling as he spoke.

“Ah, but that’s what makes their story so tragic,” he countered, shaking his head. “Their naivety is what drives them to take such reckless risks, to chase after a love that seems impossible. Yet, despite the danger, despite the obstacles, despite the fact that they come from different worlds…they still manage to find each other, to connect on a deeper level. Don’t you think that’s what makes love so intoxicating?”

He paused, his gaze searching yours before he laughed softly and said, “Or am I just a hopeless romantic?”

“You’re hopeless, alright,” you joked, despite the fact that his words managed to pang your heart.

You did not fall in love. You didn’t even think about love. One stranger’s pretty words weren’t going to change that. This was transactional.

His stories were so compelling, though…

You leaned over him again, bringing your face as close to his as you could without making contact.

“You know what I think?” You whispered, glancing down at his lips. “I think our time is up.”

The clock rang, signaling that the hour was over. You straightened up and stepped back, giving him one last wink.

“Thanks for the story, pretty boy.”

Clay’s face seemed to fall with disappointment as you pulled away from him, but his voice remained smooth and charming.

“Until next time, Cherry.”

As you left the room and returned to your vanity, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. His words lingered with you, throwing you off balance.

You gathered your things and changed into your regular clothing, clocking out at the back door. As you were about to leave, Sal stopped you and handed you a wad of cash.

“Here,” he said, “for the private room.”

You’d been so caught up in the moment with Clay that you hadn’t even stopped to think about the fact that you didn’t get a single dollar from him.

You thumbed through the cash, expecting to see the usual earnings of maybe $50 or so. Your eyes widened as you counted out $1,000.

He’d tipped you that much? What kind of man was he?

Normally, you didn’t any of the customers a second thought once you were away from work, but this one wouldn’t worm his way out of your head.

Damn these men and their pretty words and ideas of love and fate. That was a life you had left behind.

Once you’d returned home to your apartment, you showered the day off of your skin and changed into more comfortable clothing. You made yourself a quick dinner before settling into your couch and flicking the television on.

The screen lit up in the middle of some story on a celebrity gossip channel. You were only half listening as you ate your food, your mind still reeling from the events that had occurred with the handsome stranger. You couldn’t shake that something still felt so familiar about him.

Your ears perked up at the sound of a name that struck a chord deep within you. Your jaw dropped as you glanced up at the screen, seeing those dazzling blue eyes and his crinkled smile.

The reporters voice rang out about the youngest CEO Manhattan had ever seen as your heart sank to your feet.

Holy shit.

The handsome stranger was Clay fucking Beresford.

[floertoer]

as a certified filler enjoyer I'll come out and say I wish fairy tail had more filler. the cast of fairy tail is so big that there's practically an endless amount of side stories to tell with them. Something I would've liked to see is erza teaching wendy how to drive one of those magic leech vehicles:

Erza: "Okay put your foot on the gas pedal and gun it as hard as you can!"

Wendy: "Uh, Erza which one's the brake?"

Erza: "What do you mean brake?"

driving isn't super big in fiore, you have to have a nice amount of magic to use the cars and there isn't any paved road really, a horse or a train can practically get you anywhere but it's still a nice skill to have so erza tries to teach wendy.

of course the rest of team natsu get involved which ends in disaster. best to worst drivers are gray, erza, lucy, natsu. gray is better than erza just because of the fact erza is a super reckless driver. she drives like she had to be somewhere yesterday so when she tries to teach wendy she also tries to pass on all her bad habits. wendy is more concerned for the safety of everyone around her so she tries to over correct what erza teaches so she doesn't place her foot on the pedal as hard as erza tells her to and brakes more often then necessary which makes her just as much of an annoying driver as erza just in the opposite direction

somewhat surprisingly lucy can't drive because no one taught her. she was rich so why would she have to drive? she got pulled around in a horse drawn carriage so her and wendy learn at the same time. natsu, although he is below lucy on the list, can drive; he's just the worst driver you've ever seen. he drives the same way he fights, so he ends up putting way too much magic into the car at once. (he's blown up at least one car) while erza teaches wendy how to do cool u turns, natsu and lucy are in the back crashing into stuff which quickly turns into him being banned from helping her because damn it natsu these are rentals

gray is mostly trying to stay out of it, he trusts erza to teach because "she managed to teach that moron how to read". others from the guild probably stop by and give their two cents. laxus (who can drive) doesn't really offer advice other than "don't hit anyone cause you will have to pay for their hospital bills" which makes wendy abuse the brake pedal more. mira tries to give her advice about keeping a cool head while on the road but she has the craziest road rage known to man (gray reveals this) and it's a blessing cars in fiore can't honk. cana stops by but has no good advice because even though she knows how, she hasn't driven in five years. "I have to be sober to drive but I can get drunk on a train."

after all the lessons wendy tries to drive down the road and it goes like this:

Wendy: "Woah, this is actually kind of fun. Erza look! I'm-"

Gray: "Wendy keep your eyes on the road!"

*crashes into a building*

wendy doesn't become a master driver but she appreciates that so many people tried to teach her something. (while lucy doesn't learn anything at all) master makarov is a more than a little upset that they destroyed (2) cars but what can you do? erza definitely broke more than two desks trying to teach natsu to read so technically it could've been worse, he tries to rationalize to himself.

[nohoney]

thinking of fuyumi’s bestie being in a relationship with hot older brother! Touya

“Hey! Sorry I’m a little late! Kinda got held up a little, sorry.” You sit down across from Fuyumi, just a few minutes late from the lunch reservation she had made for the two of to have some alone time. “Just ah, traffic and all that. You know?”

Your best friend giggles, fixing her glasses and pouring you a cup of water. You call it traffic but Fuyumi has noticed the pattern early on that it’s just code for ‘Touya made me run late’ and she’s polite enough to not say a word. You had always been punctual before when it came to any plans the two of you made together. Since dating her older brother, there were a few times that you’d send the ‘running late!’ text and always send your apologies.

Fuyumi didn’t mind though, it wasn’t a terrible habit that happened too often.

You and her do a small catch up over tea sandwiches and little cakes served on delicate tiers. How are the kids in the classroom? How are your office clients? This happened when I went grocery shopping. I saw this really interesting video about compassion fatigue the other day.

The two of you are bouncing off one another and decide that it’s time to pay and leave the tea room. It’s supposed to be your treat today but you look into your purse and find your wallet missing.

“Ah fuck! I think I left my wallet in my other bag!” your face heats over the embarrassment of not having any means to pay for lunch, searching twice again despite knowing that your credit cards won’t magically appear looking into your small purse. “Dammit! This is Touya’s fault!”

“My fault?”

Both you and her look to see Touya walking up to the little table you’re seated at, standing out in the flowery pink tea room. He holds up a little wallet, one that Fuyumi recognizes as the one you’ve had for the last few years, holding it limply towards you and you take it from his hand. “Don’t pin the blame on me, you’re the one who forgot it.” he’s nonchalant as he sits in the empty chair beside you.

“Yeah, because you-“ you start to speak but then your eyes glance to Fuyumi before you pipe down. She knows damn well that the reason why you were late was because of her brother but she doesn’t need to know the details of how he made you late.

“Say thank you.” Touya tells you as he reaches for a leftover sandwich on the cake tier, “I paid for your guys’ bill.”

“Okay, thank you. You can go now.” You try to wave him off, “I’ll text you later.”

Touya scoffs and peers into your tea cup, wondering if drinking it would be worth it to quench his thirst. He’s not exactly a fan of tea itself. “Are you really blowing me off?” he directs his gaze to his younger sister, “Stop hogging my girlfriend.”

Fuyumi laughs, “I’m not hogging her. I’m just spending time with my best friend.”

“Yeah, and you girls have had plenty of years together. Now I want my time.”

You step in with an audible groan to cut off the dialogue, “Alright, I will not be in a Todoroki sibling competition for my attention. Touya, thanks for bringing my wallet. I’ll… reward you for it later.”

It’s all he needs to hear, springing up from his chair and saying that he’ll expect you to keep your promise. All you give him is a sigh and a little nod, rolling your eyes when he kisses your forehead and bids the two of you goodbye.

“Sorry about… your brother, I guess.” You’re a little sheepish but there’s no mistaking the happy smile that comes on your face.

And Fuyumi smiles back at you, having noticed that Touya had been a little happier since having met you.

[cowboythighs]

When Wayne took Eddie in, his biggest worry was that he was going to screw the poor kid up even more than his parents already had. After all, what did he know about taking care of a kid? How would he know what his nephew didn’t know- what Wayne needed to teach him? And how was he going to manage raising a whole little human and provide for them both? But to his surprise, Wayne soon found out that Eddie was shockingly self-sufficient. That he’d had to learn how to cook and clean and do laundry for himself, because his parents were too caught up in themselves and their own issues to take care of him.

Wayne’s momentary relief that he wasn’t starting from ground zero was soon replaced by a level of resentment towards Eddie’s parents. It wasn’t fair that Eddie had been forced to rely on himself so much. It hurt Wayne to see someone so young worrying the way he did about not using too much water; hurt watching Eddie silently going behind Wayne to turn off unused lights because he worried about the bills being too high to pay.

When he figured out Eddie's lemonade stand wasn’t set up to fund a new comic or toy, but rather to try and pay his share for room and board, Wayne took Eddie to the local thrift store and headed straight for the toys section. He was stern when he told Eddie to keep his money, and that they were not leaving until Eddie had an armful of his own toys because Wayne was determined to make sure Eddie had the chance to be a kid.

He watched as Eddie slowly pursued through the selection of toys- inspecting them carefully. When Wayne caught on that Eddie was looking at the price tags he gently admonished him; told him these are used toys; they’re cheap enough and that Eddie didn’t have to worry about money with him.

Eddie tried to argue, insisted that he knows how this goes and appreciates the thought, he really does think it’s nice that Uncle Wayne wants him to have fun stuff to play with, but he knew that just because they have money now it didn’t mean they won’t somehow come up short later, and how he’d much rather have heat than a GI Joe.

Wayne tried to be patient, to not to be as gruff as was his nature as he told Eddie “I may not be your daddy, but you're my boy and I’m gonna take care of you”. Wayne told him it was time to stop fussing and enjoy being a kid. Wayne allowed himself a smile when Eddie relented and picked out a handful of toys.

When they passed the book display as they walked towards the register Wayne stopped. “You like readin’?'' he asks. Eddie looks longingly at the books but only shrugs.

“Don’t know, never had any books to read”. Eddie says it like it doesn’t matter, but his face betrays him.

“They had books in school, didn’t they?” Wayne asked. Eddie just gave another shrug.

“Guess so. I didn't get to go to school very often. Mom and dad were almost always too tired or too sick in the mornings to take me. and we moved around a lot. When we lived close I could walk to school by myself as long as I had clean clothes. If you go to school dirty, teachers get too nosey," Eddie stated like it was common knowledge, “and then they call your parents and you get in trouble and have to move again. But mostly it was too far to walk so I couldn’t go anyways.”

Wayne’s heart felt like it was breaking anew with each detail of casual neglect his nephew had to endure. It wasn’t right for a kid so young to have gone through so much and be so nonchalant about it. Making up his mind he directed Eddie over to the books and told him he can have whatever he wants. There's a slim selection of children’s books to choose from, but it's a place to start.

Wayne watched Eddie's eyes as they kept wandering back to a boxed set with dragons and wizards on the spine. Wayne picked up the set of the Lord of the Rings books without a word and took the set up to the register with Eddie trailing behind. They were far too advanced for a kid his age, especially one as far behind as Eddie, but Wayne decided he would read to him every night. would read aloud the stories of Bilbo and Frodo and Middle Earth and watch Eddie's love for learning grow.

Wayne was proud when time passed and Eddie started leaving dirty dishes in the sink and letting his room get messy. He didn’t mind when Eddie took a long shower or stayed up late writing his own stories. Wasn’t disappointed when he got held back in school, or spent his free time playing games of make believe with his friends. Because he knew better than anyone that Eddie had a rough start in life and had been playing catch up for a long while. And besides, it gave him a chance to be a kid just a little longer, and there was nothing Wayne wanted more than that.

[faelapis]

despite some concerns raised by the trailer/marketing, i am still excited for the wish movie. a lot of that has to do with king magnifico.

that being said, i approach it from a different direction than a lot of other people excited for a “classic disney villain.”

first of all, yes. i, too, love the camp and melodrama of classic disney villains. i love that they express their wishes through big bombastic musical numbers, and said musical numbers are often the best in their movies. i like how queer-coded and fun they often are. i like the sass, the drama, the energy.

where i disagree with a lot of people is with this notion that disney movies “don’t have villains” anymore. i don’t think the likes of hans (frozen) and tamatoa (moana) are less evil than "classic" villains - they’re plenty willing to kill with a smile on their face.

i think what people ACTUALLY miss is the big performance around it all. the aesthetic. someone who does these things while being a major character (so not tamatoa) and deliciously, obviously evil while having fun with it the whole time (so not hans). i think it’s that specific combination people are missing. we still have villains, they’re just either not as “fun” or not as “important.”

of course, that take is less punchy than saying disney doesn’t have villains because "steven cringeyverse destroyed western animation and now companies are too scared to make real villains >:( !1!!!"

yeah i never understood where that came from. if anything, redeeming villains is more controversial than killing them. especially in america, being punitive is the norm. forgiveness is cringe. yet so many act as if there was some big consumer and/or corporate pushback against the idea of villains…? at some point?? i guess????

someone must've forgotten to tell that to disney tv animation, where you’ll find everything from bill cipher to belos in the modern era. (also, other companies exist? dreamworks is not some indie studio, they’re fully willing to have big, campy villains.)

but yknow, people like to feel like underdogs. they like to feel like they're somehow oppressed because some animated media don't have classic villains anymore... despite there still being plenty around. you can’t just like villains, you have to make it everyone else’s problem. like disney is obliged to do the same character tropes in every movie. or villains are "dead."

what actually happened is just… some writers at disney decided they wanted to do different things. that’s it. so you now have a handful of movies where the villain is either a minor character, or nonexistent.

it’s not a conspiracy, it’s not a concerted effort to destroy villains. it’s, at most, a trend. because some writers wanted to push against the previous status quo. and now other writers who grew up with that want to have more classic villains, because that’s what they see as exciting and new. it’s just a cycle of trends and countertrends.

anyway. long tangent aside, i’m actually very excited for king magnifico. in part for a classic villain performance (he gets a song!!) - but also, it sounds like he might scratch a particular itch of mine.

which is to have a big, dramatic, irredeemable villain… who is still a human and has an understandable pov.

yes, you can combine these things. it’s not common for disney, but a lot of what we consider “great movie villains” throughout history have been this exact combination. they have to be defeated, they refuse redemption, they are 100% committed to their goals and will not budge - but they also GENUINELY BELIEVE in those goals.

what i’m really asking for here is a sincerely motivated character. someone who is a villain, but doesn’t SEE himself as a villain. someone who isn’t lying when they try to endear themselves to the hero or promise to make the world better if they join forces. it’s just that they are completely misguided about what would be good for the world, and nothing will persuade them.

whether someone is a villain, a hero, or anywhere in between, i think asking a character’s motivation - and playing those motivations straight, rather than just as a mask for plain selfishness - is key.

as i’m saying this, you might notice that it’s not actually too far off from what i like in other characters. jasper in SU is basically this in her "main arc” in season three. she refuses help, she’s a huge dick to everyone… but she also 100% believes in homeworld as an institution and is actually, genuinely selfless. even if it means her own corruption, she refuses help, because that would betray her cause. which she values above her own life. and by rebecca sugar’s own words, jasper doesn’t even believe she deserves help.

the common thread here is really tragedy. someone you can root for and against at the same time.

so how does this relate to king magnifico? well, jennifer lee (writer for this movie & also the frozen movies) just had an interview where she talked a lot about wish, and in specific, having a classic disney villain in magnifico.

she illustrates a lot of what i’ve been talking about - that there is no grand conspiracy at disney against villains. they just had different stories they wanted to tell. there was no mandate either for or against villains, not in this movie or any other. they just did what they wanted to do with those stories. (btw, that’s not me saying there isn’t pressure at disney to tell certain stories and not others. it’s just that the concept of a villain isn’t as important to the corporate side as, say, not making elsa gay.)

anyway. what makes the king magnifico portion interesting is how lee talks about exactly what i’ve been saying. they knew they wanted a classic disney villain, but it sounds like they still want him to be different from other such characters. namely, they wanted to find the benevolent side of him, how he genuinely believes what he believes and DOES want what he thinks is best for the city of rosas.

and the plot totally checks out - basically, he decides whose wishes come true. and that’s really interesting, because a wish can be anything, good or bad. it sounds like he really wants to prevent what he sees as bad wishes from coming true, and is too conservative in what he allows or not. and his way of being kind about rejection is to remove those wishes from people’s hearts if he cannot fulfill them.

that’s SUCH a great concept for a villain. it speaks to issues of control, of agency, of being in the paternalistic position of deciding what is “best” for everyone else. it gives me a little bit the wizard of oz (as in the wizard himself, who is a charlatan trying to maintain a pleasant status quo, even if it’s a lie), and a little bit white diamond (controlling the lives of others, but genuinely believing you are being selfless and heroic about it / steering people on the “right” path).

reading that interview, my excitement for this movie went from like a 2/10 to a 8/10. jennifer lee seems to have a real interest in creating characters, not just stock tropes. elsa is one of the best disney princesses (fight me) for exactly the same reason.

another great concept talked about here (which you also see in lee’s frozen, with anna and elsa as opposites) is that of duality. there’s a lot of talk about magnifico and asha being two sides of the same coin, both initially believing in this system and wanting what’s best for the city. and from there, they divert to their opposite paths in what specifically they think is right. the interview talks about them as if they were this thesis and antithesis about what’s right for the city, needing to reach a synthesis. in talking about this concept, they included this illustration:

notice the similar poses. both have their hands behind their back (commonly used to convey a character is hiding something), their feet pointed out, and give the world a pleasant smile. asha has a darker color palette in a world of light, magnifico is a ray of light in a dark space. it's interesting for its duality.

so yeah. all in all, i’m still excited for wish. i want to take alan tudyk goat out back and shoot it for a quick, humane death… but failing that, i’ll just pray his role was hammed up for the trailer. please tell me it’s not that insufferable. please.

because i do really like everything else i’ve heard about this movie!! i like that asha is described as this idealist with “dumb courage”, like maybe she’ll actually have some character flaws and need to learn?? (maybe? hopefully?) i like everything i just said about king magnifico. i like that we have this blend of 2d and 3d animation, that’s such a clever concept for a “100 years of disney” celebration.

so yeah. i will be watching. never have i ever prayed for chris pine to save a movie, but today might just be the day!

[lesbiansandgayssupporttheminers]

Why increasing public sector wages won’t cause inflation.

One of the current Tory arguments about wages is that if they increase public sector wages, inflation will go up. Even by their own logic, this is clear nonsense, and there’s a reasonably strong argument that increasing public sector wages could actually stimulate the economy too.

So, where does this idea come from? Well, it comes from business, where the idea is that if you increase wages, some or all of that price rise gets passed on to the consumer, and prices go up. Of course, even this is false, because in many cases the consumer will say “fuck that” and not buy the product, or choose a cheaper alternative. Thus, the company must instead reduce profits to retain consumers (and let’s not be fooled, a lot of companies are still making huge, untaxed profits right now). Or they cut hours and provide a less good service.

But this doesn’t apply in the public sector. Increasing wages of people in education, or in healthcare or in the civil service etc has no direct impact on the price of anything, because the public don’t directly buy our services.

However, it may actually stimulate the economy more widely.

In general, when you give rich people more money, they save it, or possibly “invest it”- meaning it basically goes out of circulation and doesn’t further benefit anyone.

If you give people right at the bottom more money, then they almost inevitably spend it right away, usually on essentials- which benefits the economy because more money is being spent, so companies have more money to pay wages, etc etc. But this doesn’t work soooo well, because people always need essentials, and will find some way of getting them, generally, if they possibly can. Of course, we want a world where everyone has access to these essentials easily, but we’re trying to think like an economist right now.

Most public sector workers are somewhere between these two extremes although some are definitely in the second category.

Right now, however a lot of people like teachers, nurses, junior doctors, junior civil servants etc etc are “feeling the squeeze”- caught between high housing prices, rising bills and stagnating wages, there’s less and less money to spend on “luxuries”. People might cut back on eating out, on take aways, on buying new clothes, on buying presents, on “treats”, on non-essential travel, on buying things like books and nice stationery, on make up and toiletries, on haircuts and getting their nails done- the list goes on.

These things aren’t essential to survival, you can do without them. So if you can’t afford to buy them, you don’t. But of course, if a lot of people stop buying these things at once, it hurts the economy. Companies that make or sell these things see profits go down, perhaps reduce hours or lay off staff, which in turn gives them less money to spend, and it all becomes a vicious cycle which shrinks your economy- i.e. the worst possible thing if you’re a Tory, supposedly.

(Investing in education and health also has long term pay off, but anyway).

If the people at the bottom and the people a bit above the bottom had a bit more spare cash, there would be more spending, and more businesses would see a proportion of that spending. And so they can offer staff more hours, pay higher wages, employ more staff. There’s more money going around and it’s a virtuous circle. The economy grows.

Would some companies then put their prices up? Maybe. Companies will often raise prices whenever they can. But the pressure to increase prices tends to come from increased costs, not increased custom. And it would matter less because everyone or nearly everyone would be earning more.

Cutting and cutting just leaves everyone poorer. We know this.

So why do the Tories keep going on TV and spouting bollocks? It might be because they don’t actually understand the economics of the situation (scarily likely) but it’s also likely to be ideological. They’d rather “win” the fight with the unions than do something that could actually help everyone.

[shinycollarboneapologist]

an opportunist

(part 1 to clandestined or the one where matty piques your interest.)

content: mentions of drugs and alcohol, no smut but heavy petting, matty’s insufferable, matty is also george’s best friend, slight age gap (3 years), and bending of irl timelines

a/n: special thanks to @hereyeswerefilledwiththestars for inspo and for letting me rattle my silly little ideas to you. 

matty healy is nothing if not insufferable.

his very presence evokes a roll from your eyes and scoff from your lips nine times out of ten. he’s got an ego that often takes up all the air in the room. he’s always jumping down your throat, always has to be the one that wins every argument (you always give him a fight, though, never one to back down too easily), and always has to have the last word.

matty healy is insufferable. but he’s also your older brother, george’s best friend.

it started when you were thirteen. george had accumulated a new friend group and a new after-school hobby of playing the drums so loud you thought your ears were going to bleed. with george came matty by association, the boy a few years your senior and george’s best friend. he had curly hair and lanky limbs, and he always smelled a bit like weed when he would kiss you sweetly on the cheek and hug you hello. and when george tells your mum he’s joining a band and has to trek over to the healy residence five days a week, she tells him that he can go anywhere he wants so long as you go with him because realistically how much trouble can a group of teenage boys get into when there’s a thirteen-year-old thrown into the mix. in truth, the answer is a lot, but you were sworn to secrecy with a few crisp bills and the promise that when not if they make it big they’ll have a chapter dedicated to you in the tell-all book. it’s enough to keep your lips sealed, plus you get a place to go after school to kill time and get homework done. though george is begrudgingly dragging you along, matty never once batted an eyelash. he embraced your presence, welcomed your ideas, and made you feel special (all before joining in as the other guys held you down and shoved worms in your face until you cried and begged to go home). but you felt special, nonetheless.

matty healy is insufferable and your older brother’s best friend. but he’s also the long-term object of your desires.

while george slowly grew out of his distaste for your presence at band rehearsals and gigs and grew into the adoring and protective older brother you have now, matty planted his seeds in your brain. he was george’s friend first, but with that came the extension of him being another older brother figure to you. he was a good listener (when he wanted to be) and gave sound unbiased advice. when he spoke to you, he kept eye contact and made you feel like he was really listening (even if he wasn’t he was good at keeping up the charade). and when you would mindlessly ramble about some stupid boy in your science class or how much you hated the switch from lime to green apple skittles, he was good at making you feel like your opinion mattered- even if he would take the piss out of it all when you left. he made you blush when he complimented your hair or your outfit. and when the other guys would make fun of your heated cheeks and bashful gaze, matty wouldn’t join in. instead he would tell them to fuck off, and would flash you a cheeky smile. he was equal parts annoying and fascinating.

he’s always been the one, you’ve known that much since you were sixteen. you admit that to your roommates one night after a few glasses of wine and a conversation about lost loves. and though they tease you about it until your cheeks burn and you’re hiding your face in your hands. they tell you to go for it, to just bite the bullet and confess already. but that’s a loaded request. he’s matty, probably only seeing you as a direct extension of his best friend and you’re you, said direct extension that hasn’t been around recently due to the stress of work and classes. you haven’t realistically been in his presence since last christmas, you presume, minus all of the gigs you attended and george’s birthday party. it’s silly really. the way he still has you blushing and giddy all these years later. you chalk it up to the wine, though. especially when you’re scrolling through your socials later and see a few posts of matty belligerent on george’s story and it turns your stomach a bit. but people often mistake butterflies for moths, right?

you keep telling yourself that over and over as the brisk wind whips around you while you weave in and out of cars and you’re pulling your jacket tighter around your chest. the occasional horn blares at you, but you satiate it with a flip of your finger. you have places to go, people to see, drinks to consume and you’re running late. they have to be at least getting on stage for their set now, meaning you’ve missed the ceremonial pre-gig toke and you know you’re going to get the stink eye from all of them for it. the four of them, especially matty, are big on their traditions, citing some karmic return if they’re not completed. you just hope it all goes well so the blame doesn’t fall onto your shoulders, as it playfully often does.

when you approach the club, the line is already wrapped around the block. so much so that you can barely make out the dark facade of the building. you’re groaning. time is ticking away and four oversized toddlers are going to rip you a new one if you’re not in there and fast. through some bribing and squeezing and lying and smiling, you make it toward the middle of the line; the door is visible and you can vaguely see the bouncer checking id’s. you’re thanking a bunch of religious deities at this point.

“sorry, we’re at capacity and the show’s about to start.” the bouncer rips you from your self-reflective glee. your eyes widen immediately, a plethora of pleas babbling out of you.

“no, no, no. you don’t understand, my brother’s in the band and he’s gonna be so fucking pissed at me. i need to get in there,” you plead, eyes big. you’re trying to connect with the bouncer at some level at this point, eyes scanning for a name tag, something, anything. “c’mon,” you try, “daniel, you get it right?”

his eyes soften, giving you a once over.

“yeah i get it,” here it is, your golden opportunity, “now go get in line with the other sisters, wives, girlfriends, and boyfriends over there,” he nods his head over to the line of people behind you who were also denied entry. you groan, defeated.

the one night you want to go out and you’re stuck warding off frostbite in a skirt that’s too short, a jacket that’s hardly even warm enough, and the stupid, uncomfortable-heeled boots that your roommate let you borrow. calling george would be a moot point by now, but you try it anyway. as predicted, his phone goes straight to voicemail. you try a few more times, but each time it follows the same route. you wallow for a few minutes, trying to ward off the frustrated tears that have already started to sting at the corners of your eyes.

“no, dude. i don’t know where she is. yeah, i’ll keep looking, calm your balls,” a familiar voice is pinging through the air and before you can even turn your head, there’s an even more familiar mop of curly hair in front of you.

“found you. where’s my reward?” matty grins, pulling you into a tight bear hug. if it was any other time, you probably would have shoved him off and pinched his arm. but he’s warm and smells good and you’re still freezing. “we thought you bailed on us!” he confesses, and you can tell there’s a hint of disappointment in his voice.

“me? never. the train was late, the knob at the door won’t let me in, and it’s cold. and i’m pretty sure i almost got hit by a car coming walking over here,” you groan. he pulls away and you almost want to cry as he takes the warmth with him.

“no wonder you’re cold. look at you!,” matty chides, “really, look at you.” his voice falters as he mumbles the echo of his words prior.

he gets a once over at you. his eyes lingering on you a little longer than usual, darkening a bit at the sight in front of him. you suck in a breath, feeling your cheeks burn and your skin prick with goosebumps. matty’s eyes trace you again and in a self-conscious fit, you wrap your arms around yourself. there’s a familiar feeling bubbling in your stomach, those god-damned moths won’t let you have a break.

“let’s get you inside, yeah?”

you nod in return, fingers intertwining with his as he leads you to the front of the line again. you flash the bouncer a smile and he only rolls his eyes in return.

it’s crowded inside. the crowd is at least twenty people deep on the floor, and that’s not including the people wrapped around the bar or those on the balcony. matty’s grip on you tightens and he weaves you both in and out of the small huddles of people to get to the makeshift backstage area.

“precious cargo acquired,” he calls out to the guys, pushing through the dark curtain that separates the band from the gig’s patrons. there’s an eruptive cheer as your figure pushes through after matty’s. “thought she was gonna freeze to death out there.”

george is the first to envelop you in a hug. you hit his shoulder as he pulls back, furrowing your brows at him.

“hey, what’s that for?” he shrieks and you narrow your eyes at him.

“learn to answer your phone, dickhead. almost got hypothermia out there,” you grumble. he retaliates by mimicking your voice, turning up his nose.

“she would’ve frozen to death without me mate. m’her prince in shining armor. or whatever that’s supposed to be,” matty calls over and george just rolls his eyes. your cheeks feel hot, much like they did when you were sixteen and staring up at matty with wide eyes after he said he liked your eclectic music taste.

“s’knight in shining armor,” adam quips. matty just waves him off with an utterance of tomato-tomato as he lights up a cigarette.

“are you guys still playing my favorite song?” you chirp.

“nah, matty scratched it from the setlist,” ross sighs.

your eyes go wide, “what?”

matty, preoccupied with his cigarette, only shrugs. “doesn’t fit the vibe anymore.”

“and what vibe is that? emo sad boy virgin pop?” you huff.

his eyes meet yours, softening as he seems to rethink what he was about to say. there’s a twitch of a smile at his lips. he runs his tongue out over the plush flesh. the intrusive thoughts take over your brain and you’re trying to tell yourself that it would not be a good idea to tell him that you’re jealous of his tongue.

“watch it,” he’s snide, tone alluring as smoke fans over the room.

you blink a few times, exhaling slowly as you regain your composure, “or what?”

“i’ll make you go sit outside in the cold again.”

“you wouldn’t.”

“you’re right, i wouldn’t.” his eyes travel over you. he lingers a bit at your hips and you swear you can see the wheels turning in his head. you go to comment, but adam’s already rounding all of the boys up to get them on stage. his head tilts at the proximity between the two of you (which isn’t much as matty’s made his way to be a few inches in front of you now), noticing the way matty’s looking at you. he hits him on the shoulder, giving him a look and jerking his head towards the curtain. matty’s hand brushes your waist as he passes behind you. it’s there for a fragment of a second, but the repercussions weigh heavy in your brain. there’s a phantom of his hand remaining on your heated skin, heart thumping hard in your chest. and as they walk away, you can hear the harsh whispers between the two men, but you can’t make out what they’re saying.

matty ends up playing your favorite song. and it’s the only think you talk about the whole cab ride back to his and george’s apartment. the others try their hardest to switch the conversation but as soon as you see an opportunity, you’re circling back to the fact that they played your favorite song. you’re an opportunist at heart, living for the way they groan.

the five of you are sitting around on matty and george’s balcony. you’re curled up on the beat-up couch, knees pulled to your chest. you’ve changed, thankfully, into some old sweats you left here at one point. and it all feels normal and a bit nostalgic, an air of their early days. the guys are asking about your classes at uni, and how your roommates are treating you. and when you answer, you find yourself catching matty’s eyes lingering on you for a little longer than normal.

he watches you intently as you bring the bottle of cheap wine up to your lips, taking a long sip. he thinks a lot about what your lips would taste like, probably a mix of the wine and the cherry chapstick he had seen you use earlier. matty’s head feels heavy and he’s chalking it up to the wine and the weed from earlier and not from the lingering thoughts of you swimming around in his brain.

he’s bringing up a cigarette to his lips, expert fingers flicking the lighter as he inhales. matty catches your eyes on him that time, half-listening to what ross is rambling off to you. he grins at you from across the table, loving the way you’re rolling your eyes at him and returning your full attention to ross. there’s a fire burning within him, an antagonizing thought screaming that all your attention should be on him and him only. he loathes fighting for your attention, even more so now that you just look at him that way. it’s just pointless banter. that’s what he hushed back to adam as they walked to the stage. adam was being ridiculous in his accusations that matty was pushing the flirting with you thing a little too far. if you didn’t seem to mind, then why should he? it wasn’t like the both of you were going to do anything about it.

the night is settling down. adam and ross had both abandoned the remaining three of you to head home; they had an early morning tomorrow with some radio interview and they all had to be on their a-game.

matty’s got his hand in the snack mix bag, grumbling to himself.

“who ate all the pretzels?”

you laugh to yourself, hand coming to cover your lips. he’s quick to hear it though, eyes narrowing, “you’re just like george, i swear to god.”

“hey! what’s so bad about being like me?” george huffs in mock offense.

“i’ve got a list.” you and matty drawl at the same time, heads already snapping to gasp at each other.

george only laughs, stretching his arms above his head. “think i’m gonna call it a night. need my beauty sleep. matt, you’ll lock up right?”

matty nods.

“goodnight,” george hums and presses a kiss to the top of your head, “pillows and blankets are already on the couch for you.”

a warm smile finds its way to your face, thanking george.  

you can’t find the will to get up as george exits the balcony, limbs feeling like liquid and head still swirling with the weed-induced daze.

matty pulls another cigarette out from the pack. you raise an eyebrow at him.

“i’m quitting, i swear,” he scoffs.

you only laugh and lean your head back, “i didn’t even say anything. you’ve just got a guilty conscious.”

“don’t need to say anything, it’s in your eyes,” he comments, “you want one? feel like i’ve been rude in not offering one to you all night.”

you nod, pensively. he holds the pack out and you take a cigarette for yourself before you place it between your lips. george would freak out if he saw you like this right now despite the fact he had done far worse at your age. before you can even ask for a light, matty’s already bringing the open flame up to the end of the cigarette. you blink a few times. his eyes are trained on yours, tongue poking from between his lips. it feels like ages go by. the intensity of his stare is consuming you, goosebumps littering your limbs.

“you’re supposed to inhale, love,” he remarks.

you shake your head, flustered and embarrassed, “no… yeah... i know. yeah.”

you inhale as he brings the ember up to the end again. matty’s intense gaze falls to your lips. the plump skin is curling around the cigarette, puckering as you exhale and his mouth goes dry. this is wrong, so wrong. and although there’s a part of him that just wants to pack up for the night, he knows there’s a stronger part of him that just wants to be close to you and feel your skin prickle with goosebumps again.

matty’s lips are cherry red, indicative of the way he keeps licking over and biting at them. his pupils are dilated; dark black bleeding into chocolate brown irises. his hair is awry as his fingers kept running through it. and in a fleeting thought, you wonder just what it would feel like to run your fingers through it and pull at the curls- not enough to hurt just enough to elicit some kind of a reaction. the thought alone sends a shiver down your spine, which he notices, and you feel your molten limbs get pulled toward him. the blanket that adorns his body is soft. he wraps you up in it, properly tucking you into his side as he pulls the frayed hem taught around you. you’re close enough to feel him breathing now, close enough to watch his adam’s apple bob up and down. he’s lost in thought as you stare down his side profile.

“the guys treating you alright up there?” matty asks. it’s not a far-off question seeing as you’ve told him nearly everything about any male interests when you were younger.

“I’m bored-,” you hum, voice listless. the carefully curated consonants hang in the air before dispersing like the smoke that’s exhaling from matty’s lips.

“well fuck you, too, then,” matty snorts as he cuts you off, a hint of annoyance in his voice, “didn’t want to babysit tonight, anyway.”

you shake your head, and you can almost feel your thoughts rattling around as you do so.

“i wasn’t done talking,” you glower at him, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. you watch as he shifts under your gaze. maybe he was just peeved with you, or maybe you catch the hint of a flush rising from his neck.

“go on then. we haven’t played therapist in a while, what’s on your mind?” his focus is back on the second joint he’s now begun rolling. you watch his fingers carefully, throat tightening. you’re not sure if it’s the after-effects of the weed or the absolute filth in your mind that’s causing this reaction, but it’s caught matty’s attention. he grins at you, “i said-”

“i-i heard you,” you scowl.

he purses his lips at you, shaking his head, “don’t frown, sweets, you’re gonna get wrinkles.”

“like you?”

“oi!”

“you already compared this to babysitting so i’m allowed to make all of the old man jokes i want.”

he holds his unoccupied hand up in mock surrender, “touche.”

“now, let me finish before you interrupt me yet again,” you narrow your eyes at him, playfully this time, “i’m bored with guys, i think. s’not one guy that’s caught my interest and i’ve been away at school for months. they’re all so boring, or they say dumb things and i just, ugh, i haven’t been properly kissed in ages.” you’re playing it up for dramatic effect now, honestly, and it seems to have the desired effect because he stills for a minute.

this piques his interest enough that he’s abandoning the joint that once preoccupied him to glance at you, eyebrows knitting together, “is that so?” he guffaws, smirking softly. “i think your problem, little miss, is that you,” he pauses to lick the edge of the rolling paper. it’s meticulous and calculated and your thighs squeeze together under the blanket. he knows what he’s doing, knows the dangerous game he’s playing, “you waste your time on boys. you need a man.”

“you’re a man, right?” you ask.

“uh, yeah? what are you on about?” he laughs. he’s still not paying attention to you, eyes focused on the joint in front of him while your whole brain, whole being even, is screaming out for him.

“so, why don’t you do it?” you’re leaning in close to matty, his eyes shut as he feels your breath against his neck. the scent of your perfume is intoxicating. it's so sweet; reminds him of you and your lilted laugh, something that’s never changed.

“what?” he sputters, blinking incredulously.

“you heard me,” you murmur. he can feel the ghost of your breath against his jaw now as you make your way toward his ear. “show me what it’s like to be kissed by a man,” you purr.

his resolve dissipates in a low groan of your name. he turns to look at you again, eyes tracing over your lips once, twice, thrice. but it’s taking too long for you. lunging forward, your lips press to his heatedly. and though the weed has lowered your inhibitions, it’s doing little to nothing to calm your nerves. maybe you read the signs all wrong. maybe this was a mistake. and oh, god, you’re still kissing him but he’s not kissing back. you pull away quickly, eyes wide and ready to begin your apology parade. this was not how this was supposed

the slew of apologies are ill-fated, though as he growls lowly and pulls you close to him. his hands cup your cheeks, forcing you to look at him in the eyes as he speaks, “you’re playing with fire, sweets. if you’re not careful, you’ll be burned.”

matty barely gives you a second to process what he’s doing before his lips are pressed to yours indignantly in a bruising kiss. it's slow at first, his lips working with yours as his hands fall from your cheeks to your waist. he’s pulling you even closer to him, your knees knocking against his thighs. you take the initiative and climb into his lap, straddling his waist and fingers tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck. matty’s hands wander from your waist to the hem of the t-shirt, nimble fingers traveling just underneath. you feel his cold fingers on your heated skin. they send a shiver down your spine, nerves ablaze with him.

your mouth falls open in a gasp and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. he tastes of the remnants of his cigarettes and the wine he was drinking before, it’s dizzying. there’s a certain sense of pent-up desire behind his movements, a fever that you can’t quite put your finger on. you’re left only to whine against his lips, threading your fingers through his hair like you wanted to only minutes before. he’s kissing you like no one ever has before and you’re not sure anyone ever will.

matty pulls back just for a second, allowing you both to catch your breath. when your eyes flutter open, his darkened pupils meet yours. his lips are swollen, smudged with the rogue of your lipstick. you want to imprint this sight into your memory and tuck it away so that you’ll never forget how he looks in the moment. his lips are back on yours before you can comment on it. his movements are not as soft as before, not as calculated or contrived. you give in to the passion, let your desires drive you as your hips start to move against his. it’s his turn to gasp, and judging by the stiffening in his pants you can tell he’s a fan of it. he doesn’t pull away though, instead, he lets his hands grip your waist to control your movements. there’s some satiation from the friction, but it’s not enough. you want more, want him to completely ruin you.

his teeth catch onto your bottom lip, tugging as he pulls away. a whimper, deeply rooted in your chest, falls from your parted lips. there’s a smirk on his lips. you’re left panting on his lap. he leans up, cups your cheek and presses a softer kiss to your lips. your lips move against his slowly. and just as you’re about to part your lips for him once more, he’s pulling back.

an exasperated sigh leaves your mouth and he laughs at you, actually laughs, “you’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

you’re breathless, chest rising and falling rapidly. you try to find the words to rebuttal him, but they’re lost on you. the only thing you can think about is him, he’s completely encompassed your thoughts and your brain. matty’s lips move to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses down the sensitive skin. he nips gently and you moan, waiting for your reaction as he flicks his tongue out to soothe the area. he drags his hands languidly up your waist and you think that he’s going to lift your shirt and let you have it like you want. but, the notion is lost. he lifts you off his lap and kisses your nose.

“i’ve got an early morning tomorrow,” matty murmurs, “goodnight, sweets.”

he’s walking into the apartment before you can even formulate your own goodnight. the words feel lost on your tongue, thoughts feel lost in your brain.

you’re fucked. absolutely fucked and not in a good way.

[foreverdolly]

Dolly’s 2.5k Sleepover Celebration !!!

congratulations on 2.5k! you’re so deserving of it baby 💗 !

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

for my request: i would like daddy!dom elvis, number 12, number 55, and soulmates trope!

“I had a dream about you last night” and “I’ve never done this before…”

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋 | 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲!𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

prompts: "i had a dream about you last night" and "i've never done this before. . . " with the soulmate trope.

word count: 2.1k

song: power of my love - elvis presley

notes/warnings: this is 70s elvis, so there is a brief mention of pill abuse. i might have taken a different direction than what you wanted, but i know that you're a hopeless romantic and thought that you might have enjoyed this a lil bit more. i hope you like it!

She was always so lovely. Big eyes and a beaming smile that made him melt like morning frost. She was the woman of his dreams- the one that made him fall in love without even knowing her. That was what a soulmate was supposed to do though, right? Make you fall instantly. He felt connected to her, almost as though there was this invisible string that connected the two of them. Elvis remembered the first time he told his parents about the dreams. His father was happy for him: Elvis had his passion with music and a newfound goal, which was to find her. 

She was always so lovely. Big eyes and a beaming smile that made him melt like morning frost. She was the woman of his dreams- the one that made him fall in love without even knowing her. That was what a soulmate was supposed to do though, right? Make you fall instantly. He felt connected to her, almost as though there was this invisible string that connected the two of them. Elvis remembered the first time he told his parents about the dreams. His father was happy for him: Elvis had his passion with music and a newfound goal, which was to find her. 

The same way that Vernon had found Gladys on that hot summer day during a church revival. Two months later they were skipping town, borrowing a ten dollar bill from their friend just to get married.  

“She was four years older than me. . . but I didn’t care ‘bout that none. She was the girl I’d been dreamin’ ‘bout all’a my life- and there she was, starin’ at me from across that ole’ linen tent. She was real. And she was mine. If I could’a married her right then. . . I would have.” 

Gladys wasn’t as happy for her son as Vernon had been. The “dreams” meant that he was growing up. He was shedding the skin of his boyhood, a reminder to his mother that Elvis wasn’t going to stay her baby forever. 

The bout of insomnia started right after he joined the military. It was ironic- in a macabre kind of way though. The only times he felt true happiness was when he was sleeping, and yet he barely got any shut eye. That was when the addiction started, he thinks. Most nights he couldn’t drift off at all without the help of a pill. He needed to see her to stay sane. He kept the bad habit up once he got back to Memphis, and without his mother there to scold him, there were no consequences to his actions. There was no one there to nag him or lead him in the right direction. Because even if he was strung out on sleeping pills and opioids, he was still making money. 

And boy, was he making money. 

The nights got lonely with nobody to spend them with. The house was too big to be empty the way that it always was. It hurt his heart. When Miss Mary removed her apron and turned off the oven to head home, the solitude began to sink in. The hallways got darker, the rooms felt larger, and not even the sound of his piano could drown out the silence. 

Vegas wasn’t any better. Elvis wasn’t just sinking- the man was drowning. All he could do was flail his limbs out, clawing for some solid land to cling to. His mother was gone, him and his father often fought like cats and dogs, and the Colonel wasn’t the same man that he had been towards the beginning of his career. All of his friends were on his payroll, the girlfriends never saw him outside of who he was up on stage, and it felt like Elvis was nothing but a figure. It was almost like he wasn’t a real person. Sometimes it was hard for him to even remember who he was outside of the flashy wardrobe and spotlights. 

Without a microphone in his hand Elvis was just a man. 

A lonely one at that. 

But the woman in his dreams was still out there. She was waiting for him, he could just feel it. He watched her grow up from his mind's eye, and saw the way that time had changed her. The musician knew that he would be more than willing to settle for a friendship- anything. Just so long as he could have her. 

And then it happened. That. . . that thing. 

His eyes searched the crowd just like they always did, wanting to connect with all of the unfamiliar faces. So he sang from the depths of his soul, his fingers trembling as he gripped the mic even harder in his large palm. Elvis wanted to reach out to all of them, and for everyone to see him. 

Really, it was a cry for help. 

Because he was still just that poor boy from Tupelo. And while he didn’t have to stand up on a crate to reach the microphone anymore, he was still putting on the same sort of show. Just a boy and his guitar- destined for greatness. Reaching out for love and acceptance. Desperate. Hungry. Searching. 

And then your eyes met. And Elvis remembered his father’s words. 

“If I could have married her right then. . . I would have.” 

It all clicked into place. 

The singer forgot who he was when he finally stumbled off stage, tearing at his sweat covered scarf and heading towards the doors that led to the casino ballroom. Out into the crowd. He couldn’t stand to be away from you for even a second. Not anymore. Not ever again. He wouldn’t be able to take it. Jerry had to yank him by the back of his white jumpsuit, keeping him from being surrounded by a screaming mob. They would no doubt tear him apart after he put on a show like the one that he had just performed. He could still hear the women’s shrill voices calling out for him. He couldn’t help but wonder if you were one of them. 

“I-I need. . .” Elvis was panting- breathless. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the show or the fact that he had finally found you. It could very well be both. “Orange dress. S-She was in the third row. Bring her to me.” He was practically speaking in riddles, but Jerry knew better than to question him. 

The dyed brunette didn’t want to leave the side stage. He wanted to wait right there until Jerry had finally found her, but he was being gripped at the elbows and numbly ushered over towards the employee elevator. 

Everything after that was a blur. He was taking a shower by instinct alone, and the same thing with getting dressed. By the time that he finally woke up out of his shocked stupor he was sitting on the couch, his wet hair dripping into his eyes and onto his clothed shoulders. There was a knock at the door, which roused Elvis from whatever daze he was in. 

“E.P?” It was Jerry’s familiar voice that called out to him. 

It had the man bracing his hands on his long legs as he stood up to his full height, practically stumbling through the penthouse suite. There was a possibility that you had slipped out of the hotel before Jerry could find you. Or. . . or maybe you wouldn’t want to see him. You could have turned Jerry away, and there would have been nothing he could do about it. The fact of the matter was that Elvis had been in the public eye for years. He had traveled all over the state, so why was this the first time he had ever seen you? He would have moved heaven and hell just to catch a glimpse of you. . . so why? 

But there you were in the doorway, your small frame dwarfed behind Jerry as he acted as a buffer to introduce the two of you. 

Your hands and knees were shaking. You stood there and stared like a deer in headlights as Jerry spoke your name, motioning a hand between the two of you. Elvis repeated your name under his breath, trying it out on his tongue. Tasting it. 

“Do ya wanna come in?” Elvis finally asked after what felt like an eternity of just staring at you. 

In his eyes you were the celebrity, and not the other way around.

You straightened out then, your back rim-rod straight as you tossed a nervous glance up at Jerry. There it was again. . . the fear that you didn’t want to see him. He was terrified that this might be the last time that he’d ever get to see you. It had his eyes searching both of your hands wildly, trying to see if there was a ring. 

What would he have done if there was one? 

Die, probably. 

“Ya don’t have t’come in. . . we can jus’ grab some supper-” 

“N-No. . . I’ll come in.” Your voice was soft and sweet. 

It was his first time ever hearing it. While your face was familiar, everything else. . . that was all new. It would have been horrifically dramatic, but the sound of it nearly had him weeping. He swallowed thickly, nodding his head before closing the door behind you, shutting Jerry out. 

“You know. . .” It was difficult to breathe in his presence, and as you looked up at him you found it hard to look at his face for too long. It was one thing to watch him on television or have his posters up in your room. . . but to stand in front of him was completely different. He was no longer a God up on a grand stage, but a man. A man that was staring at you with the softest eyes.

 You couldn’t help but admire his undone hair, his long bangs wet and hanging in his eyes. He was even more beautiful like this. He looked just as nervous as you currently felt. 

“Now, there’s no need’a be shy. Ya can talk’ta me, promise.” His black velvet voice surrounded you. His blue eyes softened on your face. 

And you believed him. 

“I dreamed about you last night.” It was hard feeling this vulnerable. He was yours, so there was no reason to feel so ashamed of opening up. The both of you were like two sides of the same coin. 

His lips twitched up into a smile, and he was quick to look off to the side and pretend to focus on anything else that wasn’t your lovely face. 

“If I had gotten any shut eye last night. . . then I definitely would’a dreamt of ya too.” And then it was your time to look all shy, your cheeks warming with embarrassment. 

He could have devoured you in one bite.

Elvis took his time comparing your small size to his. He started at your hands, then your height- the way you only reached his chest. You were like a little baby- his baby. The overwhelming urge to protect you was difficult to fight off. 

It was animalistic. Primal. 

“I-I’ve never. . . I’ve never done this before.” You finally spoke up after the silence had stretched on a bit too long for your liking. While you were enjoying the fact that you were finally in his presence, you were beginning to feel nervous all over again. 

He was a famous musician, afterall. He had called you up to his private room. Despite the fact that you were a virgin, you knew what this must mean for him. Still, he blinked down at you in confusion. After a few seconds of putting two and two together he spluttered, his eyes widening. 

“I didn’t call ya up here just’a have sex with ya, honey. I might not look it, but my mama raised a gentleman,” He reached out and took one of your hands in his. The feeling of your soft skin against his own nearly sent him to his knees. “I-I’ve been searchin’ so long for ya. . . I just wanna talk to y-” 

“I want to.” You spoke up, knowing you weren’t going to stay this brave forever. You’d never spoken to a man in such a lewd manner, yet here you were. Letting him know that you had gotten on that elevator all the way to the top floor, all while knowing you were going to have sex with him. Knowing and wanting it. 

“I just need to know that you’re not going anywhere afterwards. I won’t be able to do it-” 

“We could get married tomorrow if you’d like. I know a guy.” It was his turn to interrupt. 

It was the hurried, nearly panicked way he spoke to you that had your lips turning up into a grin. 

And then a laugh escaping you. 

“My daddy married my mama after just two months. I’m not sure that I could hold off for that long. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you.” 

You.

The girl that he had loved even in his adolescence. The woman in his dreams.

taglist: @knoxvillesshoes@cosmorant@ol1viam@simply-sams-things@haim80s@gabbcabb@8hgel@slutt4him@busy-bee-angel-misska@kaitaesupremacy@dazedshoon @4rt3m1ss@cryingabtab@kittenlittle24@austinsrealgf@austinbutlersgirlfriend@clearbolts @dark-as-love@anni-secret-account-75@ab4eva@starcatchxr @julietamidala @obbsessivereader@gwuide@blurredcolour@the-little-red-haired-girl@meladollsims@poppet05@shrekstheloml@randomwriter888@idc123sworld@vane28282@mirandastuckinthe80s@girlblogger2002@rockerchick05@screechingstrawberrysong@simpforevery1@girlabirla@dre6ming@obetrolncocktails@fairyjanes@jensenswinchester@lo-bells @in-my-body-bag@fxntxsix@petrparkrslut@eliseinmemphis @lelifesaver @screaching-cookie@fantuhsise@areuirish @bcofl0ve@mslizziesblog@shynovelist@ssstrangersblog @harrysthecraic@hangmanswhore@jyvnho@mymamalife @melodydior @18lkpeters @memphis-mania @rjmartin11 @artlover8992

and the big daddy crew: @powerofelvis @ggwritesstuff @woundmetender @eliseinmemphis @polksalademma @flwrs4aust @headfullofpresley @cryingabtab @austinbutlersbaby @lindszeppelin @rosaminny

[morsartis]

Miscommunication

Gamzee x Standoffish!Reader

.

Life wasn’t always kind, it didn't wait for people to catch their breaths, it didn't let you get used to what it threw at you, and it certainly never slowed down. Life had taught you the best thing to do was to meet it halfway and keep trudging. You had built a calloused exterior over time to deal  with it. The sort of exterior that pushed people away because you couldn’t bring yourself to accept a hand held out in your direction. There was always some clause, some string, attached and you’d be damned before you fell for it. So for all of life’s pitfalls you’d hardened yourself against the potential. It worked as long as you didn’t count all the people you never meant to rub wrong- which you rarely did. If people were meant to be in your life they'd chip away at the walls you'd been steadfast in reinforcing, though you could admit to yourself you often made it far harder for people than you meant to. A small sacrifice for protection against getting hurt again.

Or so you had told yourself.

You’d been happy to be a prickly douche to whoever so much as looked at you for too long, snapping and glaring at every little thing life threw at you, and then you'd met Gamzee. The most spaced out, laid back motherfucker you had ever seen. Nothing fazed the troll. No barbed comment, no sneered look, no potential fight. It was as if he lived in a perpetual bubble of chill and good peace. After awhile it seemed almost cruel on your end to be mean to him at all. You’d been looking for a roommate to share your apartment with- rent was getting tighter each day and you knew it was only a matter of time before a check finally bounced- and Gamzee had simply made himself right at home. 

You had wanted an Alternian roommate specifically to guarantee they’d mind their business so you could mind yours. Too bad Gamzee never got that memo. Or maybe he had and simply ignored it. Just like he’d ignored your attempts to make him leave you alone and stop letting himself into your room to “hang” or sprawling along the couch to be in your personal bubble. No matter how many times you snapped and snarled and attempted to get him to do as everyone else did and fuck off he had remained. In fact the more you tried to scare him off the more he seemed to make himself right at home. It completely baffled you at first as to why you couldn't make him leave and then slowly you had begun to accept it. 

Begrudgingly and with the same level of discomfort as someone having their teeth pulled. 

That seemed to be all Gamzee needed to get truly comfortable. The minute you had begun to see Gamzee as a friend and start to open up to the clown he’d dug his claws in with all the glee of a child refusing to let go of a beloved toy. He invited you everywhere with him, sometimes not even waiting for an answer. You had thought it the desperate actions of a quadrantless troll- until he finally introduced you to his “palest of diamonds”. Karkat was like looking in a fucked up funhouse mirror. The two of you snapping at each other and pushing away in all the similar ways. It was no wonder Gamzee had seemed so comfortable with you. He had a type! And apparently you fit the bill. It had taken much longer for you and Karkat to get acquainted than it had with Gamzee but when you did it was clear the clown had used the same tactics he was using on you now to get Karkat as his moirail. 

A complete and utter disregard for your stubborn and standoffish nature. 

Though according to Karkat your long term roommate had a dark side, one you hadn’t seen and was hard to believe, but sometimes you thought you caught glimpses of it when he thought you weren’t paying attention. Calculating lucidity that would flicker in his otherwise stoned and glazed over eyes. It was easy to dismiss. 

But today you were reconsidering that dismissal. 

It had started out all the same. You’d had the day off work and had taken to lounging on the couch with your phone using the TV as background noise. Whatever conversation you had started out having with one of your few friends had devolved into archaic memes and had long abandoned coherence a good fifteen minutes or so ago. Gamzee would be home soon, you had memorized his schedule out of necessity from the times he’d wandered into the bathroom to grab some of his things while you had been showering. The mortification had been brutal and your landlord had banned changing the locks in the apartment for reasons lost to you. So the bathroom lock remained broken and you had memorized Gamzee’s schedule as a consequence. Since then there had been no mortifying bathroom mishaps. Not that Gamzee had seemed bothered at any point, he hadn’t been creepy about it either, just grabbing his things as if you weren’t there at all. You weren’t sure whether to be grateful or concerned but had settled uneasily on grateful. Today was no different than any other when he got back. Humming and chuckling to himself as he shed off his jacket and left it on the floor when he came in- another losing battle with him- before wandering into the kitchen without a care in the world. It was as if he hadn’t even realized you were home as he rooted around in the fridge for what you assumed was faygo. The two of you would have to go grocery shopping sometime soon, food and drinks were getting low again. You could hear him shut the fridge with his hip and the soft hiss of carbonation as he unscrewed the lid on his soda and wandered into the living room where you were still curled up on the couch. For a moment neither of you said anything and then you could feel as his eyes slid to and over you. Again that rare lucid clarity came to his eyes in a brief flash before it was replaced by the ever present glaze as he smiled wide to see you. 

“Hey buddy! You all up and got the day off?”

“Yeah. Figured I’d just relax.”

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.” He was still smiling that crooked smile as he hooked one long leg over the top of the couch and began climbing over it. You watched mildly unbothered by whatever strange fancy had struck him now as you continued sharing memes on your phone with your friend. Unfortunately that was all the acceptance Gamzee needed to plop onto the couch and then flop directly on top of you.

“Gamzee what are you doing?” You asked calmly. Maybe a little bit tiredly knowing from the start that it was a losing battle. 

“I’m just gettin’ my cuddle on.” He replied cheerful as ever. One arm snaked underneath your back to wrap around you as he began slowly inching his way up your body to rest his head on your chest. He’d had the fortunate thought to tilt his head so you wouldn’t be gored by his long goat-like horns. But it didn’t stop him from snuggling himself closer. Sighing heavily you set your phone aside and wrapped an arm around his neck. 

“Didn’t we have a talk about this yesterday?”

“I dunno. Did we? I just wanna get my motherfuckin’ cuddles on. Feelin’ all sorts a clingy lately.” 

“What do you mean?” You asked curiously but Gamzee’s mind was clearly already drifting away as he snuggled into your hold. One of his hands dangled off the couch with the bottle of faygo and you hoped he wouldn’t drop it. It took forever to clean up and you’d just cleaned the rug not even three days ago. For a while the two of you just laid there, Gamzee’s ear twitching as he listened to your heartbeat. His clawed fingertips on the arm wrapped around you tapped what you figured must be the beat of your heart on your side. You were half asleep underneath him, the chilled weight of his body helping calm you, when he finally shifted. You glanced down at him and found his chin resting on your chest as he looked up at you. Again that lucidity had returned to his eyes as he watched you. 

And then the unthinkable happened. The thing that turned your thoughts on the clown upside down. 

He slid in closer and before you realized what he was doing he had pressed his lips to yours. The first thing you registered was that they were cold, the second thing had been the slick slide of the greasepaint he wore as his mouth moved against yours, and the third was the way he was still staring at you. His eyes were still open, still watching, as he pressed his mouth to yours insistently. Your sound of confused surprise was muffled as he shifted his head just so and his tongue licked across the meat of your bottom lip. Eyes wide and shocked you tensed and he nipped lightly at your mouth before pulling away a more smug smile on his face. 

“You taste like popsicles.” He told you voice pitched strangely. Swallowing nervously you struggled to find words to even say to him. 

“Gamzee?”

“Hm?”

“What the hell was that for?” You hated how meek you sounded but the shock had been too great. He’d never even given you an inclination he saw you as anything more than a good friend.

“A motherfucker can’t just all up and kiss his matesprit?” He asked, clearly confused. 

“Your what?” 

His eyes suddenly went as wide as yours, a startling look on his face as he seemed to struggle to keep them open most of the time. 

“Oh shit.” He breathed, “I forgot to ask you.”

[noodyl-blasstal]

Fake Dating - TAZNC Day 1

It's @taznovembercelebration time again!!! My first card pull was "Fake Dating" (delicious, also, we're already off the rails). Want to take part too? Find to post here. You can write, draw, share thoughts, anything. It's just a fun time to talk about taz!

Anyway, have some Taakitz! Read below or on Ao3:

--

“Krav, Kraverooni, Kravino, please? Taako’s asking you from the bottom of his tiny shrivelled up husk of a heart.” 

Kravitz rolls his eyes. “You hand reared a litter of kittens you found in a bin bag.”

“Easy money, the resell on those.” Taako says all faux nonchalant, flipping his hand as if Kravitz didn’t sit up all night with him so they could take shifts to sleep but both woke up for every single feed alarm anyway.

“You kept three of them and gave the others away for free.” Kravitz says flatly, "... In fact!" He's worked up now, he's remembering "... You did home inspections for every one to check they'd be safe and happy." There’s no chance he’s going to let Taako pretend he doesn’t care. He cares often and passionately in various directions. “Anyway, who was the one who organised the letter writing campaign to Angus’ school when they tried to stop his soccer team’s funding and put it into the football team?”

“Anyone would have done that.”

“Did anyone else?”

“They might have.”

“If you didn’t?”

“If I didn’t.” There’s a long pause. “It’s not because I care though. Taako just didn’t want to see his sad little face.”

“Because you don’t care.”

“Because he takes up more room when he’s sad. It gets everywhere, the child mope. I’d have to scrub it out of the floors.”

“And why would he be moping here?”

“Because… I… It’s court ordered.”

“Uh huh.” Kravitz has him on the ropes.

“And there’s evidence of that, then, is there? If I googled your name I’d see the sentencing?”

“I had Google wiped by data assassins.”

“I assume you have a copy of the paperwork I could review?”

“Cats ate it.”

“Which ones?”

“This one!” Taako indicated Tiny Taco, who’s gnawing at the string of Kravitz’s shoe. Taako’s got him here, it’s plausible, but…

“Cats plural, who were the accomplices?” 

“You don’t know them. Strange cats, a bad crowd that Taco’s been hanging out with. I’ve tried telling him, Taco, son, they’re not worthy of your time, they’re leading you down a bad path, can’t you just play nicely with Garyl and Beans? But no, he worries me sick instead.”

“Taco’s a house cat.”

“He’s been running up massive phone bills.”

“How did they get in the house to eat the documents with him?”

“He pushed it under the door and they lady and the tramped it.”

“You have a porch, the cats aren’t allowed in the porch.”

“The back door.”

“Uh huh. And this flagrant fabrication is easier than admitting you want nice things for Angus?”

“Yes.” 

“Why?”

“You’ll think I care.”

“You do care. I watch you care all the time! Today you cared at least three times before breakfast.”

“Nuh uh.” Taako’s squirming in place now, he can’t run though, it’s his house.

“Yuh huh. Who helped Grant with the papers to set up his juice stand?”

“Well it made sense, I set up Sizzle It Up so I knew what to do. It was a chance for Taako to show off.”

“You helped coach Sloane to ask Hurley out.”

“So she’d stop whinging about it to you. She was taking up my valuable Kravitz time.”

“You care about me then?”

“No.” Taako looks pained when he realises what he said and how quickly he said it. “Just the normal amount. The friends amount.”

Kravitz tries not to let it sting. Of course Taako just wants to be friends. It’s fine. Kravitz is a grown up, he can look after himself. He shouldn’t have let it get this far, shouldn’t have let his feelings get so deep. It’s fine, he can just change the subject, they don’t have to do this now, especially not with the current context. “You didn’t let Magnus pet the bear.” 

“I should have.” Taako says darkly. “Then I wouldn’t have had needed to listen to him complain all the way home.” 

“Also you didn’t want him to die?” Kravitz asks casually, trap closing.

“I’m not a monster.”

“Show off, I can’t believe you’d be so insensitive.” Kravitz flops backwards onto the chair, hand across his eyes.

Taako throws a cushion at him. “Come off it, you love it, wolf boy.”

Kravitz sits up, grins to show off his slightly-sharper-than-they-should-be teeth. “Sounds like I’m not the only one.”

“It’s such a good club, Krav. Lup and Magnus are always saying how fabulous it is there, and who’s more fabulous than Taako?” 

“Good point. I can’t think of many people.” He means it, is the problem, Kravitz can’t think of anyone more fabulous, more funny, more handsome… nope!

“Then you see why Taako’s solution is perfect?”

Ah fuck. They’re back to where they started.

“Why me?”

“Do you know any other single werewolves who’d be down to fake-date Taako into The Starblaster?”

Kravitz growls low and slow, surprises himself just as much as Taako. “Er. That… I… I have to go to the bathroom.” Kravitz flings himself off the sofa, dives towards the toilet, slams the lock home, and tries not to let the panic take hold. Maybe Taako didn’t even notice? How often was he even around werewolves? Did he even know what that was? Like, fine, yes, his sister was married to Barry, and Magnus was married to Julia, and Taako was part of their families and he’d seen the dating process up close, and… fuck. No no, it was fine. He was psyching himself out unnecessarily. Barry told him all the time that he worried too much, ocerthought everything, this was fine, good even, he’d just say that it was a cough if Taako asked.

Kravitz splashes his face with cool water. It doesn't help as much as he hoped, but it was worth a go. "It's fine." He says firmly to his own reflection. "He didn't even notice."

“So I couldn’t help but notice…” Taako says, the second Kravitz re-enters the room. It’s probably too late to go hide again. “... that you might be feeling a bit possessive when it comes to other weres dating yours truly.”

“It was a cough.” Says Kravitz, not even convincing himself.

“Uh huh.” Taako isn’t convinced either. “You know, the only condition of getting into The Starblaster is that you're a were or you’re dating one.”

“I’m aware.” Kravitz cannot believe Taako is still focused on the club while simultaneously tearing away the carefully constructed wall Kravitz has been using to hide his ridiculous unwanted feelings for months. Doesn't he care? He could at least be offended. The indifference hurts.

“Well it doesn’t have to be fake. I didn’t realise you’d be down.”

“Are you offering to sleep with me to get into the stupid club?” Kravitz is angry now, furious. He thought they were friends, he thought Taako wanted some kind of relationship with him - even if it was just friendship, he would have been happy with friendship. He doesn’t want this, it should be special, not just some flippant transactional thing.

“No! I’m offering to sleep with you because I like you, you idiot.”

“Wait, did you just proposition me, confess you have a crush on me, and call me an idiot in the same breath?” Kravitz didn’t know whether to be offended or elated, settles on something in the middle.

“Sounds about right. Wanna kiss about it?” 

Kravitz does, in fact, want to kiss about it, but first he needs to know what is going on. “You like me? Romantically like me?” 

Taako arches an eyebrow and looks peeved about the lack of kissing. “Obviously.”

“For the club?”

“A bit for the club.” Taako’s forehead wrinkles. “It’s really cool. I’m not going to lie to you. But that’s more a perk of the boning, not the reason for it.”

Kravitz sinks down onto the sofa. Taako likes him back, Taako likes him back and not just because he wants to go to the stupid club.

“If anything, the boning will be the biggest perk of the boning.” Taako says cheerfully, pats him on the shoulder.

“Why are you like this?” Kravitz asks through his hands, face buried.

“You love it.” Taako says, plonking himself down next to Kravitz and throwing an arm around him. “Can we skip to the kissing bit now, or do I need to tell you about how I was gonna fake date you so hard you’d forget we weren’t real dating?”

“Can we do both?”

“You want me to talk through the kisses?”

“Between them?”

“Fine, but it’s a talk sandwich, kissing bread.”

“Kissing bread.” Kravitz extracts his face from his hands, sits up, and nods solemnly.

“Here we go!” Taako says, leaning in. 

“No!” Kravitz scoots backwards. “That was terrible, awful. Our first kiss is not going to be prefaced by “here we go!””

“You do better then.” Taako’s arms are crossed and he’s doing the frowny thing and Kraivtz is going to kiss every grumpy furrow out of his brow.

“I’ve wanted to do this for months.” Says Kravitz simply, makes it inches from Taako’s lips before he pulls back.

“That’s not fair! You can’t just be all suave out of nowhere. What am I supposed to say to top that?”

“You don't need to top it, it’s not a competition.”

“It could be. If it was.”

“Well it isn’t.” Kravitz says firmly. He reaches for Taako, trying to draw him back in. They were so close to finally getting it together.

“Buckle up, sweetlips.”

Kravitz stands, horrified. “Taako! What… why would you?”

Taako’s too busy laughing to answer. “Your… your face!” He gasps out.

“Do you want to kiss or not?” Kravitz is trying not to be petulant, he’s trying so hard, he’s failing.

Taako dives forward and crashes their mouths together. Kravitz can’t entirely tell when his mouth opened, or when exactly Taako started to nip at his lip, but it’s good, it’s great, even. Kravitz’s hands pull Taako closer, closer, closer, cradle his face, weave into his hair, help pull him down when he moves to straddle Kravitz’s lap. It’s messy and passionate and perfect, he doesn’t want it to end.

“Wanna kiss or not?” Taako pulls back, then snorts with laughter.

“I would love to do more kisses, why don’t you come back down here?” Kravitz asks, running a hand over Taako’s chest in what he hopes is an alluring manner.

“No, you said… I… it’s perfect. “Wanna kiss or not?” and then we did. That’s how we got together.” He collapses onto Kravitz’s chest, giggling furiously.

“You tricked me!” 

Taako laughs harder.

“We’re going to have to tell people that when they ask.” Kravitz says, aghast. He really doesn't want to have to tell anyone this story.

Taako attempts to sit back, taking a moment to collect himself. “We’re going to <i>get&lt;/i> to tell people when they ask. What a gift!”

“A gift.” Kravitz repeats, quietly, carefully. 

“Hey Krav?”

“Yes Taako?” 

“I think you’re great.”

“I think you’re great too.”

“Wanna kiss about it?”

Kravitz cups Taako’s face, brings it gently, reverently towards him like Taako’s the most precious thing in the world. He might be in this moment. Kravitz kisses each cheek softly, then his nose, his forehead, and finally his lips. It’s gentle, tentative, full of care.

Taako pulls back. “You’re going to tell people this was what happened, aren’t you?”

“Yep!” Kravitz says happily, pressing their lips together again.

“Fine. But I’m telling the real story.” Taako says huffily before kissing a firm line from Kravitz’s collar bone to his jaw. “The people need to know.”

“Uh huh.”  Kravitz is finding it harder to focus on anything but the insistent kisses on his neck and the hands working themselves down his chest. “Gotta give the people the…” He tails off as Taako’s teeth graze his neck. “What… they… it’s science.”

“Uh huh.” Taako replies. “Great point.”

“No more words, just kissing.” Kravitz tugs Taako closer again.

“Are you going to tell people this bit too?” Taako asks. 

“Ssssh.” Kravitz kisses Taako again. “Nothing about other people, just about us.”

“Just us.” Taako nods. “And how much fun we’re going to have at The Starblaster.”

Kravitz sighs.

“Hey Krav?” Taako noses at his cheek.

“Yeah?” 

“I’m glad we figured it out.”

“Me too, Taako. Me too.” 

--

Thank you for reading! You can find the next day here.

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟑   ❛ 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ❜   |   QUEEN'S OFFICE, MID MARCH 1991

❧  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

   ❛  Beatriz, like her grandmother before her, lived by the belief that Uspana was her true firstborn. When her daughter’s mourning period concluded, she returned to work on its behalf. She was not a simple figurehead. Her job was not to pose for pictures, to fundraise money for good causes, to lift the spirits of the weary with a benevolent smile. She did the work of a statesman, and she did it well. She was a politician. On any given day, her attention divided in a thousand directions—domestic versus foreign affairs, diplomacy and economics, tempestuously petty interpersonal dynamics on which national matters of life and death too often depended. Staff abounded to keep it all in order, but Beatriz had always been a hands-on executive. She knew what skeletons lurked in the closets of allies and adversaries alike, and she knew the details of bills and proposals less careful eyes overlooked. She enjoyed sparring with representatives. She harangued her ministers for sport. It wasn’t ideology that drove her so much as the desire to win. More than merely dedicated, the queen thrived in the high-stakes, head-spinning world of governance. It was one in which her weaknesses were strengths. The people of Uspana knew her reputation, but most of them credited it with the long era of stability that she seemed to have held together, almost single-handedly, through sheer force of will.

❧ TAKE TWO FUCK TUMBLR i took the screenshots for this ages ago, and !!!!! i wish that i’d had the time and energy to redo it, but :/ fine enough to just post. i wish i could say beatriz gets better, but ... idk, man, this is just who she is, which sucks sdkfshj

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

TRANSCRIPT:

{Conversation}

[L] She canceled again, didn’t she?

[B] Not quite. It’s business as usual, is all. They’re taking a coffee break in a moment, so she’ll see you for a few minutes then. [L] {scoffs} Of course.

[B] Look at you. Such a tired trio.

[B] I’m glad to see your faces. These last several weeks have been difficult for everyone. Time to come together.

[B] That’s what I wanted to share with you. Everything is the same for us—well, except for you three. How can we have orphans in a family so large? That’s how you feel, I presume.

[B] You don’t know this, but he had all sorts of inquiries about Safya’s estate within mere days of … Well. Mourning is over, and there is a definitive, sweeping answer. An eviction, in fact. That was her home, and I intend to preserve it as such indefinitely.

[L] I don’t understand. What about Gil and Mateo? [B] You would understand if you let me finish, Leonor. Anyway, this is hardly your concern. You wanted to live alone.

[B] Boys, you will take up residence at Nakawe Palace. Damian and Julian are there, Arnaut’s pair will be around … You will be with me, with your grandfather—right where you ought to be. [G] Mother Beatriz, will Papa be there?

[B] These apartments are for those who belong to the Crown. You belong. Some others do not. [G] Can he visit? [M] We’ll still see him, Gil.

[B] Before you get any ideas: don’t mistake this for a discussion. I was just going to send a moving van to pick you up, but your grandfather was convinced that would be somehow cruel.

[B] Leonor, give me a moment. I have something to say.

[B] Why would you go out like this? They’ll notice. [L] Who will? [B] Come on now. The papers, obviously.

[B] You look awful. To start, go home and wash your hair. These things matter.

[B] They’re going to eat you alive. Do you hear me? They will because they can, and there’s little I can do about it. [L] {softly} They already are …

[B] Exactly. This is my one warning. Let’s not disappoint.

[M] Why didn’t you say anything? [L] Why didn’t you? [M] That’s not fair.

[L] Don’t call him. He should hear everything from her people. It’ll be easier for everyone that way.

[M] Easier? You know that’s not true.

[M] Wait—where are you going? We have plans!

[M] Leonor!

[alotofpockets]

This is a hospital | Kate Bishop

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Reader

Prompt: “You’re here way too often.” - "So what?” - “This is a hospital.”

masterlist | requests: closed | taglist | words: 632

As a nurse working in an emergency room, you've met your fair share of patients. But there were only a few were you were able to connect their face with their name. Knowing exactly who they were once you saw them come in, because they came into the ER on quite a regular basis.

Most of these regular ER visitors you knew by name were elderly people, but one wasn't. Her name is Kate Bishop. The last month alone she must've been in here four times. 

Your fellow nurses had caught on that this twenty something woman was found in the ER way too often for someone her age. And also, to the fact that you seemed to be taking a liking to her.

It was a slow Friday night shift, those didn't happen very often. You were cleaning up some beds while you didn't have a patient, when your coworker walked up to you. "Hey y/n, your favorite patient is here, I figured you'd like to be the one to treat her." She said with a wink. You rolled your eyes at her, but once she turned around you smiled. Kate was your favorite person and that might also be because you've developed a crush on the woman.

You walked into the waiting room and there she was, "Hey Kate, come on in." Kate stood up and followed you to one of the rooms. “What happened this time?" You asked her while you inspected the cuts on her face. You knew by now that she worked together with Hawkeye on some of his missions, but you were still interested in how her injuries happened.

"Something exploded and it happened so fast I wasn't able to find cover." Kate explained. "Did you get hit anywhere besides your face?" Kate shakes her head, "No, not this time."

"That's good. The cuts on your face don't seem too bad. I'll disinfect them and with some butterfly stitches they should heal up nicely." You start gathering what you need and move back with the tray in hand. 

"Ready?" You ask with a cotton swab full of disinfectant in your hand. "Yeah, go for it." Kate says. You grab her chin softly to move her head in the direction so that you can reach each cut better. Being as close as you are you hear her breathing change, and you smile to yourself. Apparently you had the same effect on her as she did on you.

You clean each of her cuts and place the butterfly stiches in place. After that you get ready to discharge her. "You know, you’re here way too often.” You say to Kate. "So what?” 

“Kate, this is a hospital." You emphasize. "Plus, your injuries are never really ER worthy, and you should definitely know by now how to put on butterfly stiches. So, if my coworkers are correct on this; If you come here just to see me, you should ask for my number. It would spare you a lot of hospital bills." You're surprised at your own directness. You really liked her and would love to see her not hurt and outside of work. 

Kate steps up as you handed her the discharge papers. "Alright, in that case, could I please have your number?" 

You gave her your number before you had to move on to the next patient. Before you open the curtain to their room you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You check the message before you head in.

It read 'Dinner tomorrow? - your favorite patient'. You look back to where you just left Kate. She looks at you expectantly with a smile. You return the smile and send her a text back, 'Sounds good, I'm off at 5pm. Text me the details :)'

~

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[inkedroplets]

⭐️🌟💫

I went back and forth on so many different sections to talk about in depth. I finally settled on this one.

I'd rather not dream at all, Lena thought, thinking of how often even her most pleasant dreams so often turned to nightmares, hoping that the sheer exhaustion she felt would be enough to keep them away. She watched Kara go as she waited for the light to change, too tired to work through everything that had happened, what still had to happen but unable to stop herself from trying. She watched the crosswalk light tick down and got ready to shuffle across when she felt a very light tap on her arm. Expecting Kara, Lena turned around and was more than a little surprised to not see anybody, until she felt another tap on her arm and saw that the culprit was just short enough to limbo underneath her eye line. A young girl with a bright yellow bow stuck in her hair that for some reason looked awfully familiar. "Hi!" the girl said, beaming up at Lena. Lena could only stare as she tried to figure out just why the girl looked so familiar, urging her incredibly sluggish brain to cough up the right memory when it came rushing back a few moments later. You were crying because you ran away from home... The confusion on Lena's face fell away and she smiled warmly at the girl. "Hello, Kara." Hello, Kara. Kara was already half a block away when the sound of Lena's voice stopped her in her tracks. She came to such a sudden stop that the man walking a few steps behind her had to very hastily sidestep around her, muttering darkly as he found his footing and began to walk faster in a bid to put some distance between the both of them, glowering at her, although Kara didn't notice. She was too busy trying to figure out if she had really heard what she thought she did or just imagined it. She stepped a bit off the sidewalk so as not to make other people have to walk around her and listened more intently and picked up the sound of Lena's voice, still standing out front near the coffee shop. How have you been? Kara's brow furrowed and she took a few steps back in the direction she had just come from. Are you talking to me? Kara mused, not sure what to think. She stopped when she heard a child's voice answer Lena's question. I'm good. So is my mommy. Thanks to you. She has a new job. She's inside now getting coffee and hot chocolate for me! I'm glad to hear that and I just had coffee too. With a friend. But it's Superman that helped. "Superman?" Kara said aloud, more confused than ever, eyes wide and her heart pounding. You walked me home. Well... Superman did too. Your mom will be worried if she sees you're outside talking to a stranger, you should go back inside. Promise again that you won't run away ever again? I won't. I promise. Thank you again. You're very welcome. I hope you had a good birthday too. I did! Oh, I wanted to tell you that I really like your helmet. I thought it was scary at first but now I think it's really pretty. I wanna dress up like you for Halloween. Kara swayed where she stood, like a boxer at the end of a very long round. She could feel her stomach twisting in on itself, while the same solitary thought pounded in time with her rapidly beating heart. It can't be true... It can't be true... It can't be true...

I had many, many ideas about how Kara would find out that Lena was the vigilante. And none of them involved Lena getting the chance to tell Kara the truth because where's the fun in that? I think initially I was leaning towards a big dramatic reveal. One during the penultimate chapter would have fit the bill but to drag that secret all the way to the finish line never seemed all that appealing. Kara managing to overhear Lena talking about her double life seemed plausible but the ethics of Kara always listening in never sat right with me. And as far as Kara figuring it out herself... I quite like the notion that for Kara and Lena that they are each other's blind spots. For as smart as they are or the clues that should seem obvious they just don't see them either by accident or design. When Lena ended up helping out the young girl who had run away from home, I had the epiphany to name her Kara. Something that seemed like a throwaway line at the time. Fun foreshadowing to stumble into as a writer. And it fit thematically since Lena unmasked to put her mind at ease and that's how Clark ends up finding out that it's Lena that's been prowling Metropolis and much (much) later how Kara found out as well. Kara hearing Lena call her name from far away seemed like something she would be actively listening for and while she did eavesdrop it was never malicious. I wanted there to be a lot less baggage. With how carefully Lena and Kara had begun to heal their relationship, I didn't want it to be something that could endanger that. They'd come to far for that. It might not seem all that important of a passage but I'm quite happy with how it came out and that Lena's first "fan" just happened to be a girl named Kara.

[splathousefiction]

"For The Children" Is A Puritan Dogwhistle, And It's Time You Stop Pretending People Who Use It Are Acting In Good Faith.

They're not.

Not once, not ever, nor has any policy, political move, bill, terms of service update or edit to an EULA agreement done under this banner been made with good intentions. "For the safety/good of children" is what's commonly referred to as an "Emotional Appeal", a logical fallacy most of you learn about in grade school. Corporations and politicians, at least in America, will happily strip away your autonomy without a second thought while simultaneously ignoring direct and real dangers that many children face literally every single day. They get away with it too, because gaslighting in American politics works.

There's no grand agenda, no chemical in the water nor some mind control via 5g tower by some shady cabal to harm your children.

You know what kids are really dealing with right now?

There's been 64 school shootings in the US so far just in 2024. The number of kids facing food scarcity or only getting a meal at school (often on the free/reduced price tier) has surged since the 2019 lockdowns. More than 1.2 million kids in school right now are homeless. Schools are underfunded by $150 billion annually, meaning kids don't even have access to the resources necessary to receive a quality education.

These are just the causes I can personally think of that we should be investing in "for the children", and yet as literal bodies pile up every year, kids starve and freeze outside in the elements, I've watched our politicians just shrug and say nothing can be done while actively infringing on the privacy and safety of it's citizens.

Instead of doing something about gun control, we've got militarized police in schools and talk of allowing teachers to carry firearms. Instead of taking my tax money and at least feeding the kids, I've watched them be fed stuff so lacking in nutritional value it might as well be dirt. I've seen politicians move to keep the holocaust out of textbooks and reduce the horrors of war to a few paragraphs-always with this country as the winners, the good guys, the MCU equivalent of the avengers coming to save the day. Don't even get me started on housing those homeless children. If the US doesn't care about kids being shot to death, it sure as hell doesn't care about giving them adequate shelter.

I'm not so dumb as to assume there's a single solution or a single cause to any of this, but I'm also not ignorant to the fact that every single fucking time I've heard "for the safety of kids" or "for the good of the children" used by someone, they're about to do something fucking hideous to all of us and get away with it. They're about to rob you of your rights, your humanity, your name and culture if they think they can. And they're gonna get away with it too, because what kind of monster would ever argue against the safety of kids?

"For the children" is a conservative dog whistle. It always has been, it always will be, and every time you see it used it's time to start harassing the shit out of the people saying it by asking them what they're legitimately, actually, factually doing for kids. Because there's a damn good chance their entire argument is built on a throne of corpses.

[unreliablesnake]

It won’t work (Joel Miller x reader — one-sided)

Summary: Joel hates you. Or so you thought.

Note: That first kiss scene in Red, white & royal blue hit me hard. No happy ending. Yet.

Joel hated you and he didn’t make it a secret.

But that was okay, you weren’t there to make friends with him. Maria often told you he disliked the older Miller as well, and she only tolerated him because she truly loved his brother. You were friends with Tommy as well, but there was no way in hell you would ever be friendly with Joel, the very man who threw cleverly disguised insults at you whenever he had the chance.

“Man, I’m bored,” Ellie complained as she and Sarah joined you in the living room with some lemonade.

“Then grab a book and read,” Joel offered, earning a disgusted noise from the girl. “I give up.”

“Excellent parenting,” you noted with a scoff. “I have no idea how Sarah ended up the way she did after growing up with you.”

Sarah clearly noticed the tension between you and her father, so she was quick to shake her head with a beaming smile as she sat on an empty chair next to the armchair you were sitting on. “Come on, he’s not that bad. Trust me, he’s a great dad,” she told you softly, throwing a wink in her father’s direction.

“She’s right. He did a decent job despite being a single dad. Sure, I helped a lot, so–” Tommy began, but then he came to an abrupt stop when Maria shot him a look that said ‘stay out of this.’

Joel suddenly shifted in his seat and leaned forward as he watched you. “You sure must know an awful lot about parenting when you don’t even have a child of your own,” he told you, his cold words making you feel nauseous all of a sudden.

That was a low blow. “Well, I’m sorry that I can’t have kids due to some complications following a miscarriage,” you blurted out without thinking. You could see him gulp, his eyes finding the floor more interesting now. “I think I’ll go home now. Maria, Tommy, thank you for inviting me. Girls, it’s been nice to see you.”

Without hesitation you made your way to the front door where you bumped into Bill and Frank who were a little late because of a dinner in a restaurant they had planned weeks ago. They tried to ask you what happened when they saw the tears in your eyes, but you only shook your head in response and walked to your car.

Until today it was only your ex and his and your parents who knew about this. You never told anyone else what had happened to you, and you weren’t planning on doing so. It was something you tried to bury in your mind and heart, hoping one day you could get over it, but it wasn’t as easy as you had thought it would be.

Maria tried to get a hold of you the next day, but you didn’t really feel like talking. She sent you a text to let you know they were heading back to Wyoming, and you broke the radio silence by sending a message to wish them a safe trip. What warmed your heart a little were the messages you received from Sarah who couldn’t stop apologizing for her father’s stupid words.

Two weeks after that evening you went out for a drink with your co-workers, finally having fun as you spent the night trash talking your other colleagues while getting drunker and drunker with each round. Your mood was only worsening when your eyes landed on Joel who was shamelessly staring at you from the bar where he was sitting.

“Okay, why don’t you just go over to him? You’ve been staring at each other for the past ten minutes,” Joanna told you with a wolfish grin.

Matt, her boyfriend, was quick to turn around and check who’s been watching you. “The way he’s staring at you is pretty creepy.”

You shrugged. “I know him. He’s an asshole but otherwise harmless.”

“Then I won’t suggest asking him to join us,” Joanna said with a pout. “Too bad, he’s handsome.”

The fourth member of your little group, who also happened to be the closest to you, gave you an expectant look. “Okay, what’s the story here?” Iris asked.

“Yes, that’s a good question,” Matt said with a nod.

“His oldest daughter, Sarah, moved into the apartment next to mine with her boyfriend. She’s a sweet and cheerful girl, we often talked and we’re kinda friends with her. Then I met her uncle, Tommy, and his wife, Maria, and we became friends. Fast forward to today, when they come here from Wyoming, I’m often invited for dinner or a game night. They need an extra person because they make a team, Joel’s girls make a team, and so Joel needs a teammate for game night too. Joel keeps making his stupid little comments, but I usually don’t make a big deal out of them. I let him bark, it doesn’t matter to me.”

“You’re right, he sounds like an asshole,” Iris noted before taking a swig of her beer.

The Joel topic was closed with that, and soon you agreed to call it a day and go home to sleep. Joanna and Matt offered to share an Uber with you since they went in the same direction, but you wanted to be alone so you declined. The last thing you wanted in your miserable drunk state was being in the company of a happy couple.

Once everyone was gone, you went outside and waited for the car to pick you up. While you waited, you kept browsing your phone, so when you felt a tap on your shoulder, you involuntarily jumped a little. It was Joel, standing next to you with his hands now in the pockets of his jeans.

“You didn’t come over to say hi,” he told you.

“You didn’t either,” you pointed out.

He took a deep breath that he let out really slowly. “True. Why do you hate me so much?”

This was ridiculous. Did he really have the audacity to ask you that? “It’s you who hates me, I’m just keeping my distance. You’re the one who constantly belittles me,” you bursted out. “You’re a fucking asshole, Joel.”

“I don’t hate you,” he quietly said.

When you gave him a questioning look, he just muttered something about how dense you were, then stepped closer to pull you into a kiss. You froze from the surprise, but pushed him away the moment you came to your senses. He looked hurt from your reaction, but you couldn’t care less about his feelings. Joel Miller was a terrible person, there was no way in hell you would ever be attracted to him. Well, sure, he was handsome, but his personality ruined everything.

“What was that all about?” you wondered out loud enough for him to hear.

Joel buried his hand into his hair as he began pacing in front of you. “I didn’t know what to do. I like you, but I don’t want to complicate things with a relationship until Ellie is old enough to move out,” he began to explain, and you had to fight the urge to call him out on this bullshit. “Keeping you at arm’s length was my way of protecting myself.”

“You weren’t keeping me at arm’s length, you hurt me. Several times.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry.” At least he sounded genuine. “Let’s have a fresh start. Let me give you a ride home,” he tried.

Looking down at your phone, you saw that your Uber was nearby. “I already called an Uber, it’s almost here. But thanks.”

Joel nodded. “I’ll leave you alone, then. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you replied, suddenly feeling guilty for being harsh with him. He looked like a kicked puppy, a sight you had never thought you would see. When he reached the door of the bar, you let out a sigh and called after him. “Joel, wait. We can try to be friends. I’m sure Sarah would appreciate it if we could get along.”

“You don’t get it, do you? Being friends isn’t enough. I want to take you out on dates, I want to be able to hold you and kiss you whenever I can. I want all of you,” he explained.

Nodding, you bit on your lower lip and thought about what to say. “I can’t give you that. I’m sorry.”

To your surprise, he leaned over to kiss your forehead. “I’ll have to learn to live with the idea of being nothing more but friends, huh?” he asked, and you nodded. “All right, let’s give it a shot.”

“My Uber’s here. Bye, Joel.”

You got into the car and stared out the window during the whole ride. He kissed you. Joel kissed you and told you he liked you more than just a friend. It was shocking news and you had trouble wrapping your head around it. When you got out of the shower, you were welcomed by a new message on your phone.

Joel: By the way, I’m sorry for saying what I did the other night. I didn’t know.

You: I never told anyone, don’t worry about it.

Joel: I still feel like shit for making you upset. Just saying.

You put down the phone on the nightstand and decided not to respond. After his confession you didn’t know how to act around him and how to talk to him anymore. He wanted more than you could give him, and even though you were curious if that could even work between you, you didn’t want to risk making things worse.

The next morning you were ready to leave for breakfast, but you were stopped by Sarah who looked like she’d been waiting for you to step out of your apartment. Her ever present bright smile made it clear she was in a good mood, but there was a hint of nervousness in her eyes that made you think about what was going on.

“We’re having dinner with Dad and Ellie tonight, I thought you should join us,” she said happily.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“Is it because of what happened last night?” Your jaw dropped upon hearing this. How in the hell did she know about that? “Dad told Uncle Tommy who called to tell me all about it. Listen, I know it must be weird, but if you spend some time together, you might be able to sort things out. Maybe he would accept that you can’t be more than friends, maybe you’ll realize you want more, too.”

Blowing out the air you didn’t even know you were holding, you thought about what to say. You would be okay with being friends, but knowing Joel, he was only saying he would accept your decision to make sure you didn’t disappear from his life. After about a year of constant malicious comments, it was hard to have a fresh start. You were too drunk to think straight when you said you could try to be friends.

Sarah could see you were unsure. “You don’t want that, right? That’s why you’re hesitating,” she said softly. You nodded. “Too bad, I think you would be great together. But I won’t force you. Have a good day.”

“You too,” you said.

………….

“I tried to talk to her, but it didn't work,” Sarah told her father when she joined him in the kitchen. Her boyfriend was out in the backyard, fixing something to save Joel some time, so she took this time to conspire in secret. “She’s not ready. And let’s be honest, your behavior towards her from the start wasn’t exactly nice.”

Joel rested his forearms on the kitchen island then put his forehead on top of it. “I’m such an idiot. I acted like some stupid kid who pulls the hair of his crush all the time.”

She walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder in support. “Look, maybe she just needs time. Actually, I have a plan. Why don’t we visit Uncle Tommy and Maria in Wyoming?”

“You think some distance would help?” he asked as he glanced over at her.

“No, I think we should convince her to come with us. I know for a fact that Maria has already invited her a few times, but she never had the time to go. Maybe this time she would agree if Uncle Tommy and Maria helped us.”

Joel straightened up and leaned against the kitchen island. “You think that could work?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

“Oh, she would be uncomfortable the whole time,” Ellie spoke up when she appeared out of nowhere. “I had no idea that’s why you were so rude to her.”

“How long have you been eavesdropping?”

“Long enough to know you asked Sarah to act like it was Uncle Tommy who ratted you out to her,” she replied with a shrug.

He let out a frustrated sigh, having enough of this drama of his. Ellie was right, you would be uncomfortable, and knowing how much Maria disliked him, she certainly wouldn’t support him. Tommy would try, but your bond with his wife was stronger.

Suddenly Ellie stepped in front of him with her hands on her hips. “I never said you shouldn’t give it a shot, you know. Maybe a change of scenery is all she needs. Well, if you’re on your best behavior, of course. Treat her nice, buy her something as a gesture, and maybe go on a double date with Uncle Tommy and Maria without telling her it’s a date,” she suggested.

“She’s right,” Sarah noted with a nod.

Joel let out a sigh. “Fine. I’ll talk to Tommy.”