#priestly fanfiction

[thebiggerbear]

Boaz Priestly Fic Recs List

Rec List under Read More:

Any Way That You Want Me by @deanbrainrotwritings - he’s clingy and doesn’t know how else to feel close to her. even though it gets them both riled up, it’s nice while it lasts.

when broken is easily fixed by @deanbrainrotwritings - priestly broke up with tish (yes!) uh, i mean… you watch him be pathetic and sad with his big wet green eyes.

High School Never Ends by @illshakeyouallnightlong-dean

*I will add more as I go

dividers by @firefly-graphics

[zepskies]

What Does "Supporting Writers" Mean? ✍️

Apparently it's Fanfic Writer Appreciation Day! To all my fellow writers, I truly appreciate you for bringing me joy, making me smile on rough days, and giving me my weekly/daily dose of escapism and warm fuzzies. (Shoutouts to you personally below.) 💓💓

But what does it mean "practically" to appreciate your favorite writers, especially on Tumblr?

For example, I know some fanfic authors are starting to block "serial likers": people who'll go through someone's entire masterlist and hit the "like" button on 20-something stories without commenting or basic reblogging.

While I think blocking them is extreme, I understand the authors' frustrations. I've actually been asked if I'll ever leave Tumblr, since many of them have dropped off over the past few months, or even the past few years.

I'm still here for two very important reasons:

I love to write about my favorite characters. I write primarily because I love it, not just for the kudos.

I'm friggin' blessed to have a lot of friends and lovely readers on here and Ao3 who support me immensely on my writing and on this blog in general. I love and appreciate each and every one of you! Which is why I do my best to reply to your comments and reblogs. 💖💖

Of course, there are many reasons why a writer might take a break or stop writing entirely, but one of those reasons is also why the #supportwriters tag exists...

And why you'll see us include banners like this on our posts:

(Credits: cafekitsune, me, inklore)

That being said, here's my own rule of thumb on how I try to support my fellow writers when I read something I enjoy:

If I "liked" something, it means I had the time to read a story all the way through and I enjoyed it! (Or I'm bookmarking it for later in the day lol)

If I have the time to read it, I have the time to leave a comment on what I liked the most about it.

If I have the time to write out a comment (anywhere from a few seconds to a few minutes), I typically put that comment in a reblog -- maybe even add a gif or two for ✨razzle dazzle.✨ That way I can share it with the rest of my followers, so they can see it and hopefully enjoy it too...

Why? Because Tumblr isn't TikTok or IG. Reblogging is the best way to help a post gain traction on Tumblr. The algorithm doesn't care much about likes.

But on a more human level, supporting writers is just the basic thing of -- if you enjoyed something you read (that a writer shared for free), just let them know what you liked about it.

Remember that there's a person behind the content you enjoy. They might have been working on that story for weeks or months, or even years before they got the courage to post it.

They might really be putting themselves out there, writing about a topic or subject matter that they're not sure people will even like or engage with.

Maybe they're exploring something new, like a character or trope they've never written before.

Maybe they're expressing part of themselves that they haven't even told another living soul.

Maybe they just wanted to write something fun and smutty or angsty or fluffy and want to share the escapism with you.

Whether they've been writing for years or are just starting out, any and all is valid.

For me, as a writer and a reader, supporting my fellow writers often means supporting my friends. And 9 times out of 10, the way we became friends was by leaving feedback on their work and asking them questions, or responding to their awesome feedback on mine.

If you want a little jumpstart on how to leave feedback, whether encouraging or constructive, here's an awesome post about it (not mine).

Shoutout to some of my favorite writers 💞:

(In no particular order)

@waynes-multiverse @luci-in-trenchcoats @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @thatonewriter15 @rizlowwritessortof

@waywardxwords @tofics @kaleldobrev @deanbrainrotwritings @deanwritings

@jawritter @deanwinchesterswitch @justagirlinafandomworld @ravengirl94 @waywardxwords

@spnbabe67 @deanwanddamons @ejlovespie @kittenofdoomage @venus-haze

@talltalesandbedtimestories @sam-is-my-safe-word @jacklesbrainworms @artyandink @princessmisery666 (I just starting reading your stories, but I'm continuing with Samnesia soon!) -- and I'm sure many more! 💋

[mirandapriestlyswife]

I JUST FOUND OUT THAT THERES TWO BOOKS THAT ARE LITERALLY BASED ON MIRANDY FANFICS?? HELLO??

Books are “Truth and Measure” and “The Brutal Truth”

[south-of-heaven]

His girls || Rhea Ripley x Reader x Damian Priest

Summary: Damian is very possessive and likes to mark whats his

A/N: Possessive Damian makes me giggle like a schoolgirl

As you navigate your loving relationship with Rhea and Damian, you've come to appreciate and understand the unique dynamics between the three of you. One aspect that stands out is Damian's possessiveness, which he proudly displays when it comes to his girls.

Whether it's in public or behind closed doors, Damian's possessive nature is evident. He's fiercely protective of you and Rhea, and he takes great pride in claiming you both as his own.

When you're out together, Damian's presence is strong. His arm is often draped around your waist or Rhea's, a subtle yet unmistakable sign of his possession. His touch is possessive yet comforting, a constant reminder that you are under his protective gaze.

At social gatherings or events, Damian's gaze never strays far from you and Rhea. He stands close, keeping a watchful eye on anyone who dares to approach, silently warning them of his territorial nature. It's as if he has an invisible force field, ensuring that no one encroaches on what is rightfully his.

In private, Damian's possessiveness takes on a different form. He craves physical and emotional intimacy, always wanting to be close to you and Rhea. He showers you with affectionate touches, leaving no doubt that you are his cherished possessions.

He revels in the act of claiming, gently marking your skin with possessive kisses and leaving love bites as reminders of his ownership. His touch is both passionate and tender, a reflection of the depth of his devotion.

While his possessiveness can be intense at times, you find comfort in it. It serves as a constant reassurance that you and Rhea are cherished, protected, and loved deeply by Damian. His possessiveness is not born out of insecurity, but rather from a place of profound love and desire to keep you both safe.

And in return, you and Rhea embrace his possessiveness, understanding that it is an integral part of who Damian is. You take solace in the knowledge that you belong to him and he belongs to you, fostering a sense of security and stability within your triad.

As the three of you navigate the intricacies of your relationship, you find that Damian's possessiveness adds an undeniable layer of passion and devotion. It reminds you that love is not just about the gentleness and affectionate moments, but also about the fiery desire to protect and claim what is precious to you.

In the embrace of Damian's possessiveness, you find a sense of belonging and a love that is unwavering and all-encompassing. And together, you continue to nurture the bonds of your triad, creating a sanctuary of love, passion, and unbreakable devotion.

[spacelessbian]

DWP AU idea

idea for Mirandy White House AU which I would love to read, but can't write because I haven't finished a fic in about million years and this one would need to be long and complex

I just need to get it out of my system before I start writing it and abandon it after seven pages as usual. But maybe it could inspire someone?

here goes...

Miranda Priestly is a senator with a little bit of a reputation among staffers in Washington. Basically everybody and nobody wants to work for her, because she is tough and mean on purpose, but if you endure, she will help your career. If you're competent, that is.

Andy Sachs studies law or politology (or something like that) and she ends up interning for senator Priestly's office during one of her summer breaks. She learns a lot but ultimately decides she never wants to work for or with Miranda ever again. She develops a little crush on her but it's just a summer thing, it will pass. And it does, for a while.

Three or four years later, Andy gets her first job in Washington. Because she doesn't come from a wealthy or connected family, she doesn't have many options, especially since she is not that great at networking, so she ends up working for and elderly senator, who everyone knows will retire sooner than later. Still, Andy appreciates the opportunity and embraces the whole thing.

Meanwhile Miranda Priestly is no longer a senator, but a recently elected vice president, currently not in a great position as she is going through a rather public divorce. Andy follows the whole thing way more thoroughly than she would admit.

Andy's boss announces his retirement about a year into Andy's employment and she goes to a bar to drown her sorrows. There she crushes into Serena and Emily. She met Emily during her internship and Emily, just like in the movie, doesn't like Andy very much. Serena is happy to socialize however and after hearing about Andy's job situation, she tells her there is an opening in Miranda's office staff. The office being in the White House, Andy jumps at the opportunity, especially after being told that she wouldn't actually interact with the veep directly much if at all.

This works for a while. Miranda is way too busy to notice Andy, or so Andy thinks. It seems that Miranda doesn't remember Andy at all, which Andy thinks is great news. Andy enjoys working with the rest of the staff and is soon noticed for being good at what she is given to do. She eventually gets a promotion to a different position - a position much closer to the veep than originally expected. This also turns out to be fine. Andy is not as clueless as she was in canon, so Miranda has less reason to berate her. In fact they start getting closer...

About a year into Andy working in the White House, there is a party. Maybe a celebration. What ends up happening is Andy and Miranda kiss. It is very mutual and it rocks Andy's world. And then, literally the morning after this monumental event, Andy wakes up to the biggest news: the president resigned and Miranda Priestly will take his place. Suddenly the impossible romance became even more impossible.

That's all, that's the pitch.

Additional idea: Nigel could be Miranda's friend (not her staff), maybe he hopes to become her veep, but she appoints the (absolutely American) rival politician Jacqueline Follet instead to keep her in check or something? That could be nice. Anyway. If anyone could write something like this for me, that would be great lol.

[merylstreepsworld]

Christmas Traditions

Pairing: Miranda Priestly x Fem!reader

Summary: You visit the Priestly residence for an exciting Christmas eve! Exchanging presents, laughter... and even a kiss.

Word count: 1,400+

The night unfolded like a scene from a sophisticated holiday tale, with the streets of New York City cloaked in a gentle snowfall as you arrived at Miranda's exquisitely adorned townhouse. The festive atmosphere was palpable, emphasized by Miranda herself, resplendent in a red velvet dress, opening the door with her twin daughters, Caroline and Cassidy, flanking her.

Miranda's voice carried a note of playful sarcasm as she greeted you, "Well, look who decided to grace us with their presence. You're not fashionably late for once."

Your laughter echoed through the entrance as you replied, "Had to make an exception for Christmas Eve, Miranda. Your place looks stunning, by the way."

The twins, overflowing with excitement, rushed forward to envelop you in a hug, their infectious enthusiasm setting the tone for the evening.

"Yay, you're here! We've been waiting!" Caroline exclaimed, her joy contagious.

"We made you something special for Christmas!" Cassidy added with a wide grin.

Your smile remained steadfast as you responded, "I can't wait to see it. And Miranda, you look absolutely stunning in that dress."

The red velvet dress clung to Miranda's silhouette with a luxurious embrace, its plush fabric accentuating the graceful lines of her figure. The deep, rich hue seemed to intensify under the dazzling Christmas lights, casting a warm, radiant glow over the room. The dress, a creation of sartorial elegance, boasted a subtle off the shoulder neckline that hinted at allure without relinquishing sophistication.

Miranda acknowledged the compliment with a nod, her characteristic smirk never far from her lips. "I know. Now, come in. We have a splendid evening ahead."

Miranda ushered you into the beautifully decorated townhouse, where the scent of evergreen and cinnamon hung in the air. The ambiance was sophisticated yet cozy, evidence of Miranda's impeccable taste. The Christmas tree sparkled in the corner, adorned with ornaments that reflected Miranda's refined aesthetic.

With chic Christmas decorations adorning the dinner table where a sumptuous feast awaited. The conversation flowed effortlessly as the four of you engaged in lively banter over the delectable Christmas dinner.

For the occasion, you wore a tasteful ensemble—a deep green dress that complemented the festive atmosphere. Miranda, ever the fashion icon, acknowledged your choice with a nod of approval. The contrast in your styles was apparent, but it only seemed to enhance the uniqueness of your friendship.

The evening unfolded gracefully as you all gathered around the dining table for Christmas dinner. The conversation flowed effortlessly, blending the wisdom of Miranda's experiences with the vibrant energy of your youth. The atmosphere was festive, marked by laughter and shared stories.

"Did you know Santa's coming tonight?" Caroline interjected, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Cassidy nodded eagerly, "We're hoping for lots of presents!"

Miranda raised an eyebrow at the mention of Santa, and you couldn't help but laugh. "Well, miracles happen, Miranda."

After the delightful meal, you all gathered around the lavishly decorated Christmas tree. The twins each picked out one present. Once they'd made up their mind, occasionally shaking a few boxes with wonder, they tore into their meticulously wrapped presents, their laughter resonating with pure joy.

"Look what I got!" Caroline squealed.

"It's perfect!" Cassidy exclaimed, holding up her gift.

You exchanged knowing smiles with Miranda, appreciating the shared warmth of the holiday season. The time had come for the adults to unwrap their gifts, and Miranda handed you a beautifully wrapped box.

"Merry Christmas," she said, her tone surprisingly genuine.

As you delicately unwrapped the gift, a delicate necklace was revealed, its design a reflection of Miranda's unparalleled sense of style. "Miranda, this is stunning. Thank you."

Miranda's smirk softened into a subtle smile. "It's the least I could do for my fabulous friend."

In return, you presented her with a tastefully wrapped package. Miranda opened it to reveal a rare edition of her favorite book, and her genuine pleasure was evident.

"How did you...? This is extraordinary," she remarked, her usual composed demeanor momentarily replaced by surprise.

"A little bird told me you've been wanting it for ages," you replied with a knowing smile.

The room brimmed with the enchantment of Christmas as Caroline and Cassidy found themselves facing a rule that threatened to dampen their holiday spirit – only one present each from under the resplendent tree.

Caroline's pout spoke volumes, "But, Mom, it's Christmas!"

Cassidy, her partner in this miniature rebellion, echoed, "Yeah, one is not enough!"

Miranda, a paragon of composed authority, raised an eyebrow, "One each. That's the rule. Besides, it's only Christmas eve."

As the twins engaged in a feeble attempt to sway their mother's decree, you exchanged a knowing glance with Miranda. Rules were rules, but exceptions could be made, especially during the magic of Christmas. Reaching into your bag, you produced two additional gifts, a subtle spark of mischief dancing in your eyes.

With a smile laced with secrecy, you declared, "Perhaps, a minor adjustment to the rules."

Caroline and Cassidy, eyes now wide with anticipation, hastily seized the unexpected offerings. The paper surrendered its secrets, revealing a new sketchpad for Caroline and a set of vibrant paints for Cassidy.

Caroline, her face now aglow with delight, exclaimed, "This is amazing!"

Cassidy, grinning from ear to ear, added, "Thank you!"

You laughed joyously, overcome with a sense of deep love for the two girls. You always enjoyed making them happy and surprising them. "A touch of Christmas magic, just for you two."

In the midst of the unfolding festivities, Miranda, the poised matriarch, observed the scene with a smirking satisfaction, "Exceptional circumstances call for exceptional measures."

The room, once filled with a chorus of eager unwrapping, now had Caroline and Cassidy seated on the floor, absorbed in exploring their newfound treasures. Their joy echoed through the room, blending seamlessly with the warmth that permeated the air.

Amidst the unfolding festivities, Miranda, in her poised elegance, gently reminded the twins, "Don't forget the present you made for our dear friend under the tree."

Caroline and Cassidy, their enthusiasm unyielding, exchanged mischievous glances before executing an agile dash towards the Christmas tree. Returning with a carefully crafted package, they handed it to you with proud smiles, eager for you to unravel the mystery of their creation.

Caroline, exuberant in her announcement, declared, "We made it ourselves!"

Cassidy, nodding in agreement, added, "It's the best one!"

You delicately unwrapped the handmade gift, revealing personalized ornaments, each reflecting the unique touch of the twins' creativity.

Appreciation colored your expression as you remarked, "This is wonderful. Thank you both."

Miranda, her smirk now softened, commented, "They insisted on making something special."

Late into the evening, laughter resonated through the elegantly decorated space, and the room was filled not just with the glow of Christmas lights but with the warmth of shared moments and genuine connection. The twins, now nestled on the floor, continued to revel in the joy of the season, and the memories forged that night would linger, like the echo of distant carols, in the corridors of time.

As the night progressed, you joined forces to put the twins to bed, sharing wishes of sugarplum dreams and whispered secrets. Back downstairs, Miranda walked you to the door, the air tinged with a sense of contentment.

"It's been a splendid evening, hasn't it?" Miranda's voice softened.

You nodded, genuinely grateful. "The best. Thank you for having me, Miranda."

As you reached the door, the subtle detail of mistletoe hanging above caught your attention. The mistletoe, unnoticed until now, dangled above the doorway like a clandestine spectator to the unfolding scene. Miranda's smirk returned as she commented, "Tradition, you know."

"I thought you didn't do traditions," you playfully retorted, a glint of mischief in your eyes.

In response, Miranda leaned in, her fingers delicately cupping your cheek, a gesture unexpected yet remarkably tender. "There's always an exception."

Her lips met yours beneath the mistletoe, the kiss holding a subtle intensity, a mingling of warmth against the winter's chill.

As the kiss lingered for a fleeting moment, the snowy night outside seemed to pause, granting you both a suspended instant in time. Miranda's touch, a gentle caress against your cheek, left an imprint that lingered even after the door closed behind you.

"Merry Christmas, my dear friend," Miranda whispered, her voice carrying a warmth that transcended the season.

Your smile held a lingering echo of the shared moment as you replied, "Merry Christmas, Miranda."

[impala-dreamer]

Pondering Fate While Ignoring The Obvious

A Ten Inch Hero Story

~Priestly has got it so bad for Tish that he can barely see past the end of her... well, her back end, anyway. He's love sick and forever rejected, constantly stuck inside his own head. When a new girl in town starts messing with him, he quickly loses his cool...~

Boaz Priestly x F!Reader

2,511 Words

Warnings: Nuttin' but fluff and banter. ;)

A/N: This is another square for my @jacklesversebingo card. The prompt is "Backhanded Compliment/Convenience Store/Sugar Addict"

Now listen- I've never written for this movie before, but I had so much fun doing it. If you've seen the movie, I think you'll love this. If you haven't seen it, you may not totally get it, but you'll still love it because it's cute and fluffy and I said so. Give it a chance ;)

Another day, another spicy Italian with no oil and no vinegar. How you could eat a hero dry was a question he could never quite grasp the answer to, but in the end, did another weird order really matter? He’d put a condom on the bun if they asked for it. Maybe not a used one, but then again, Tish was looking extra spicy herself today.

Tish. Goddamnit. There she goes flirting with every male in existence except him. There she is leaning over the counter in that not-so-sneaky way that pushes her tits up and out, giving everyone and their mother a look into the valley of the Promised Land. 

For fuck’s sake, if she’d only do that for him. 

Then again, nothin’ he hadn’t seen before. 

Fingers snapped in front of his face and Priestly blinked himself back into reality. 

“Can I help you?” he asked, still half dazed and half hard after staring so intently at his coworker. 

Piper sighed. “Yeah. You gotta make a run down the street.” 

He sighed harder. “You know, you ladies are capable of patronizing the convenience store now and then. It’s not really hard. You just pick out what you need and exchange it for cash.” 

The tiny blonde pouted and batted her lashes. “Please? My feet hurt from standing all day.” 

He scoffed. “And mine don't?” 

“I’m not used to it. I’m delicate.” 

Priestly scratched at the bright green spikes that sat atop his head for the day, masquerading as a hairstyle. He frowned but relented. “Fine. Gimme the list.” 

He saw her from the street. He wasn’t purposely peeping through the window like a stalker, but he felt like it all the same. It wasn’t his fault, not really. Things mostly stayed the same around town, so when something was different, when someone new showed up, it tended to stick out a bit. 

The new girl at the register was cute, not particularly daring in her style or makeup palette, but she was attractive. Probably the thing Priestly noticed first was the lollipop stick hanging from her painted lips. 

His entrance was announced by the jangling of bells and she looked up as he came in. She smiled around the pop and twirled the white paper stick between her fingers. 

“Welcome.” 

He looked back at her over his shoulder and nodded. “Hey.” 

Slowly, she pulled the treat from her mouth and licked the very tip. Her tongue was as red as the pop and Priestley was sure that his cheeks were turning the same shade. He cleared his throat quickly and turned back, going about his business. 

The store was otherwise empty except for Mr. Jacobson, the old man who never seemed to go anywhere but was always wherever you went. He was currently lingering at the end of the aisle, amazed at the sheer amount of chip flavors the new millennium had to offer. 

“Back in my day we had regular and salt & vinegar, and we were grateful!”

Priestly laughed under his breath and looked over the rack at the register. She was laughing softly as well, and when their eyes met, she didn’t shy away. 

He did; quickly tearing his gaze from the cherry pop and focusing on the aluminum foil instead. There was no use flirting with her anyway- she’d never go for him. She looked too normal, too pretty to fall for his shenanigans. Best not to even think about it. 

Arms fully stocked, he headed her way, keeping his eyes on the black and gray tiled floor and praying she wouldn’t make his heart race any faster. 

She sucked hard on the Blow Pop and then took a bite, making him jump. Sugar crackled between her teeth and she winked.

“I hope you overcharge them,” she said dryly, staring him down. 

Confusion took the place of shyness and Priestly’s face scrunched up. “What?” he snapped, jerking away from the counter. 

The girl rolled her eyes and went about ringing up his order without another word. 

Cash exchanged, Priestly thanked her and walked out, still wondering what the hell she was talking about. 

Monday. 

Priestly stared out the front window, wondering if the day was going to go his way or not. He knew he shouldn’t bother pondering the Fates, because they always seemed against him, but he liked to think he had some hope tucked away somewhere beneath the Manic Panic hair dye and all the metal sticking out of his head. If there was, he couldn’t find any today. 

Tish was late, as usual, probably rolling out of some strange guy’s arms and fishing for her bra underneath the bed. 

Someday… someday, that’d be his bed she was searching under. Someday, those would be his arms she rolled out of. He just had to keep hoping.

Or not. He really didn’t care. 

The sun was too bright, the grill was too hot. He hated everything. 

Except the sound of bubblegum popping behind him. He didn’t seem to hate that. 

With spatula in hand, he turned and startled just enough to make the bubblegum appear between coyly smiling pink lips. 

“Hey.” 

Priestley squinted. “You’re that chick from the store.” 

Annoyance crept onto her face. “And you’re that dude with too much eyeliner.” 

He laughed before realizing she was insulting him and ended up jolting up on his toes awkwardly, half a smile curled on his lip. 

He cleared his throat. “Priestly.”

She squinted. “Like Elvis?” 

He shrugged. “And you are?” 

“Hungry.” 

Slapping a five on the counter, she picked up her hero and spun away, heading toward the door. She turned to push it open with her backside and popped her gum again. 

Her eyes were glued to him and Priestly felt his stomach flip. He met her gaze and she smiled. 

“I always do.” 

He wanted to say something, to ask her what the hell she was talking about, but she was gone before the words reached his tongue. 

“Always do what?” 

Jen turned her head his way, but her eyes were still locked on the computer screen. “What’s up?” 

He sighed. “Nothing. Just a weird girl from…nothing.”

It was nothing. She was just the weird girl from down the street. And anyway, he was supposed to be hating everything today, not shifting his ponderance to the mystery of the gum chewing, pop crunching girl from the convenience store. 

“Nothing.”  

Blue hair; don’t care. 

Priestly cracked an egg on the grill and watched the edges sizzle. He wasn’t great at a lot of things, but cooking eggs was something he did exceptionally well. The butter bubbled around the perimeter, curling the whites just slightly, and he pushed the tip of his spatula against it. 

Not ready yet. 

The girls were, yet again, chatting about men, and he kept one ear on the sizzle and the other in their conversation. 

“I just don’t understand how hard it is to find. It’s right there.” Tish laughed and pushed a delicate hand back through her hair. “It’s a clit, not the Holy Grail.” 

Priestly raised a brow. “Some would call it that though,” he interjected. 

She rolled her eyes. “You would.”

Offended, he sucked in a quick breath. “Ya know something-” 

She turned, one hand on her hip, waiting. “Yeah?”  

His lips pursed and dejected, he turned back to the grill. “Forget it.” 

“Thought so,” she laughed. 

God, she was such a bitch sometimes. OK, most times, but still.

Tish went back to leaning on the counter and he took the opportunity to peek at her ass. 

Behind him, a throat was cleared. 

Priestly sighed, knowing what was waiting for him when he turned. Or, rather, who. 

“You again.” He batted his lashes. 

She smacked her lips. “Me again.” From her pocket, she withdrew a pink Starburst and fiddled with the wrapper. 

He eyed the candy and followed it to her mouth. Her lips were darker today and it reminded him of the cherry pop. “You eat too much sugar, you know that?”

She smiled gently. “And you dye your hair too much. That isn’t good for you. All those chemicals are gonna fry your brain.” 

“Joke’s on you, it’s already fried- shit!” Fried egg. Burnt to a crisp. “Damnit.” 

Sugar Girl swallowed a laugh and the Starburst. 

He turned around, annoyed at himself and her laughter. “Are you- do you want something?” 

“Yup.” She nodded and took her order from Piper, who was holding a small, paper-wrapped hero. “Thanks.” 

Green eyes narrowed on her smile. She was weird. Way too weird. And kinda rude. 

“You ever gonna tell me your name?” he asked, calling out as she pushed open the door. 

“Sure,” she replied, “Soon as I get my free sample.” 

“Huh?” 

Confusion always seemed to linger when she left, that and the smell of strawberries. Or cherries, or whatever she’d been sucking on. 

Sucking on…

His eyes flickered over to Tish and he wondered if she was as good at sucking things as she claimed.

It was raining and he was cranky. 

He’d missed his alarm, the car wouldn’t start, and a passing bus nearly drenched him head to toe. 

It wasn’t supposed to rain at the beach. It was practically against the law. Nature’s law, anyway. 

And to top it all off, Tish was bragging about the amazing night she’d had with a handsome stranger visiting from New York. 

“He’s just in town for a few days, so it’s nothing serious,” she explained to a wide-eyed Piper who was drinking down every word. “But man, I wouldn’t be mad if it was. He’s… tall and handsome and-” 

Priestly cleared his throat. “Ya know I’m pretty tall.” 

She clicked her tongue. “And?” 

His heart ached at her callousness. “And… just thought I’d remind you.”

Maybe she didn’t know what she was doing to him, but he thought his advances were fairly obvious. Maybe she was just a bitch.

Jen derailed his thought train with a shopping list she’d printed out. 

He shook his head. “No.” 

“Please?”

The shop on the corner was the last place he wanted to go. Nameless Sugar Girl was the last person he wanted to see. “Why do I always have to go?” He pouted and gestured to the window. “It’s pouring rain out there.” 

Jen looked up with puppy-dog eyes. “Which is why I’m asking you to please go.” 

A heavy sigh was his only reply. Priestly grabbed the paper from her hand, crumpling it beyond repair, and set out into the downpour. 

He was dripping by the time he made it down the street. He sneered at the water on his face, rolled his eyes at the welcome mat, swatted viciously at the bells as they rang above his head. 

“Rough morning?” she asked, watching his huffy entrance. 

He scowled. “You could say that.” 

A peppermint rolled on her tongue and the red and white stripes caught his eye. “Well, lemme know if you need any assistance.” 

Priestly ran a hand through his teal-tinted hair and shook out a puddle’s worth of rain. “Yeah. Thanks.” 

It took him a while to collect the goods, having trouble finding the right paper towels that would fit into the holder in the bathrooms. He’d never had any issues in the store before; seemed like someone had rearranged. 

Someone. 

He looked across the rows of sundries and wondered what her deal was. Hell, he still didn’t even know her name. Not that he wanted to, of course. 

Of course. 

Finally, and with much annoyance, he arrived at the register. 

She laughed softly as he unloaded his arms. 

He shook his head. “What?” 

“I… I shouldn’t even touch this one.” 

He had no clue what she was talking about, he never did, and he was at the end of his rope. 

His patience snapped. “What?”

She sat back, clearly hurt by his tone. “Your shirt.” 

She pointed at his chest and he looked down, reading the big black letters upside down. 

‘Save a tree, eat a beaver’

His shoulders fell. “Oh. Yeah. Whatever.” 

“Yeah,” she echoed, the sting heavy in her voice. “Whatever.” 

He couldn’t take it anymore. Dropping a can of coffee onto the counter, he slapped his palms down on either side of it and leaned in. 

“Ya know, everytime I see you, you’ve got something snarky to say.”

Her eyes went wide. “Snarky?” She frowned. “I thought I was flirting.” 

The fight drained out of him along with the blood in his cheeks. Confused once more. “Uh… what?” 

Pushing herself up off the stool, she mirrored his pose, hands falling dangerously close to his. “Flirting,” she said again. “It’s an ancient ritual in which a sexually interested party attempts to lure their prey into bed with witty and charming wordplay.”

He balked. “I know what flirting is!” 

She glared. “Then why haven’t you picked up on the fact that I’ve been trying to pick you up for weeks now?”

“I uh…” His elbows buckled and he stood up fully. “You have?” No way. She wasn’t…

Memories of the past month flooded his mind. Each time he’d seen her she was smiling at him, not being snarky. She was teasing him, answering the ridiculous sayings on his shirt. 

‘I sell crack for the CIA.’ … “I hope you overcharge them”

‘Surf naked.’ … “I always do.” 

‘Orgasm Donor - Ask for your free sample’ … “As soon as I get my free sample.”

It had been smacking him in the damned face and he hadn’t seen it. She had been playing with him the whole time, not trying to annoy him. She wanted him to notice her, but he was too busy dreaming of Tish, wondering when she’d notice him. 

He sucked in a stunned breath. “You have. Wow.”

A tiny smile returned to her cherry lips. “Come on, I know you’re not as dumb as your fashion sense implies.”

Priestly felt a dip in his gut, something fluttering around inside. He grinned. “Oh, I’m way dumber.” 

Reaching across the counter, she grabbed hold of his shirt and pulled him close. “Good.”

Her lips were soft, the kiss as sweet as the candy she was always eating. He breathed her in as her tongue swept over his.  He was stunned, confused but in a good way. Maybe he needed to push Tish aside and pay more attention to the world around him. Maybe this was a good thing. A really good thing. His eyebrows raised in surprise, his blood pressure raised even higher.

She pulled away slowly, her lips lingering on his. 

“You get it now?” 

She waited, blinking at him with the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. He should have looked sooner, closer; should have given her a chance.  

“Yeah,” he whispered in a laugh. “I think I do.” 

Another kiss, a press of her hand at the nape of his neck. 

“You ever gonna tell me your name?” 

She smiled. “Y/N.”

He reached for her cheek; fingers landing lightly on her soft skin. 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” 

2023 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@aditimukul @agirlwithdemonblood @akshi8278 @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @charred-angelwings @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @djs8891 @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @deansyahtzee @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @iamsapphine @idreamofdeanie @ilsawasanacrobat @impalaspixie @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @justcallmeasmodeus @kazsrm67 @kittenofdoomage @k-slla @leigh70 @lyarr24 @mariekoukie6661 @maggiegirl17 @pandaxo79 @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @roseblue373 @sacriceria @samwellwinchesterthebrave @sexyvixen7 @spideysimpossiblegirl @spnexploration @stevekempscocktails @the-wounded-healer05 

[mirandyprompts]

[phantomstatistician]

Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada

Sample Size: 3,568 stories

Source: AO3

[cappulcino]

I guess this post is kind of a cry for help(?)

I love writing and have severe ADHD that has been hindering my passion for months on end now, which makes me feel profoundly depressed

I absolutely need to find the strength to write again and thought that if I shared my WIPs and fic ideas with a short explanation, and found people who would be interested in reading them, I might find that strength because, you know, accountability and all that (am I delulu?)

So here is the list so far (all titles are temporary):

Broken Souls and Apple Pies (WIP): Devil Wears Prada, Mirandy, +70k words planned, canon divergence, hurt/comfort, slow burn, idiots in love, family reunion – Miranda reunites with an unexpected element from her past thanks to Andy, that element then reunites them

The Eveningstar (WIP): The Sandman, Dreamingstar (Morpheus/Lucifer), canon non-compliant, slow burn, slight angst, exes to ennemies to lovers, family reunion – Lucifer convinces Morpheus to help them with personal matters; Morpheus discovers a secret that the Ruler of Hell has kept from him for over a century

Animi Metamorphosis (idea): Wednesday, Larissa/Shapeshifter!OC, canon-non-compliant (Larissa is alive) and post-canon, hurt/comfort, slow burn, repressed feelings, found family, self-acceptance – There is a new music teacher at Nevermore; Larissa gets a bit too involved

Redemption (WIP) with @magnoliamei: Okja, Lucy/Male!OC, canon non-compliant (Mija is replaced by an OC), family reunion, exes to ennemies to lovers

The Balancing Act (idea): Good Omens, Crowley/Aziraphale, canon divergence, slight angst, Ineffable Family – After Aziraphale returns to Heaven, Crowley discovers a celestial being apparently born from their love, a neutral force embodying balance. As Crowley navigates the challenges of single parenthood, Aziraphale’s visit to Earth leads him to reconsider his allegiance to Heaven and rekindle his feelings for Crowley

I shall take away thy heart of stone (idea): The Personal History of David Copperfield, Jane Murdstone/Maid!OC, secret relationship, escape to freedom, angst – A young maid falls in love with her stern mistress, Jane Murdstone, leading to a forbidden and hidden affair. When Jane's brother intervenes, Jane must risk everything to rescue her beloved and escape to a new life together

Apart from those, I also wanted to open my requests for people to send prompts (I suppose writing short one-shots/ficlets would also help me get back into writing).

So feel free to comment about the list or send prompts, any help is welcome!

[stayevildarling]

Miranda Priestly x Wilhemina Venable x Reader - Dragon meets Purple - Part 1

A/N: Hi there! recently I had the idea of Wilhemina x Miranda and due to my poll I decided to write them x reader. I have written like 10k + words so I'm going to divide it into parts.

tw: mention of disability, very mild mention of drugs, sexual tension

word count: 1.7k

taglist: @lunaticwhittaker, @billiebeanhoward, @lanawinters-ily, @kenzbro, @minaslittleone, @httpfiftyshadesofgay,@whitelotus00, @ninaahs, @vintagepaulson,@isle-of-earle,@paulsonsratched, @stepintomyworld, @grilledcheeseandguavajelly, @lucyintheskywithxanax, @fanfics4world, @mymiraclewitch, @hazard-to-myself, @awritersometime

As the elevator bell dings, Wilhemina finds herself in a large white modern hallway. She takes a few steps, her cane hitting off the marble floor as she approaches the receptionist. ,,May I help you?'' a brunette asks her. The redhead clears her throat before explaining ,,I'm here for an interview with Miss Charlton''. The receptionist reaches for the phone scanning Wilhemina up and down, while remaining friendly.

,,If you just go through that corridor, Miss Charlton will meet you by the conference room'' the brunette explains. Wilhemina nods, before making her way over to where she was told to go. Despite the redhead usually being quite confident in herself, at least on the outside, she was nervous, her heart pounding in synch with the echoing of her cane hitting the floor.

,,Ms Venable?'' a redhead asks, slightly snappy, again scanning Wilhemina up and down. ,,Yes, nice to meet you'' she replies, trying to muster up her best smile and trying to be as friendly as possible.

,,I knew I should have made photos a requirement on applications'' the woman with a british accent mumbles as she invites Wilhemina to take a seat and closes the door.

,,Pardon me?'' Wilhemina slightly snaps before the woman named Emily turns around. ,,I'm sorry, it's just here at Runway we have certain expectations'' she replies.

,,Are you referring to my disablitiy?'' Wilhemina questions, looking at her cane. The other woman's breath gets caught in her throat before she quickly apologises. ,,No I'm so sorry, not at all. It's just we.. especially Miranda has quite the strict view on fashion and you are.. very.. purple''. Miss Charlton explains, trying to save the situation a little bit.

,,Let's just start. Can you tell me a little about yourself?'' she asks. Wilhemina explains how she has worked in HR and helped built the company she worked for before. She explains her skill set, including computer skills, financing and other typical HR things.

Emily reads over her application again, certainly impressed at the woman's accomplishments. ,,May I ask why you decided to come to New York? I have read you are from Los Angeles? and I'm sorry but you know we don't have any HR positions available and this would be the position of Miranda Priestly's second assistant, me being the first of course''. She questions and explains at the same time.

And right there Wilhemina is pulled into a flashback, waves of memories crashing her thoughts and momentarily causing for silence in the room. Of course she didn't want to move, especially not to New York. And no she didn't want to be assistant to some dragon lady who works in the fashion industry but the redhead had no other choice. For six months she had looked and applied to jobs and somehow the only interviews she managed to secure were in New York, including this one. There wasn't a lot of HR positions available and the ones she wrote to never replied or found someone younger or better.

,,You know Ms Venable, I don't think this is any of your business'' Jeff raised his voice.

,,Pardon me?'' Wilhemina questioned sternly. All she wanted was some more responsibility in the company. More meaningful tasks rather than making sure they have enough drugs or certain entertainment on their flights.

,,You know there is an old saying, if you don't like where you are at the moment, maybe you should move on''. Mutt explained.

,,Yeah maybe it's time to move on from Kinero Robotics Ms Venable'' Jeff agreed.

,,Do I need to remind you, I was the first person you hired when this company was operating out the back of a van? I have given you everything that I have. Every second of every day. I've sacrificed any semblance of a personal life. Friendships, family I don't even have a decent hobby'' Wilhemina argued back.

,,Well we certainly hope you find that somewhere else'' one of them joked before Wilhemina walked away for good.

And that's how Wilhemina had lost her job, they didn't technically fire her and they did come begging after a while as they realised what they lost but Wilhemina had no desire to work for those two anymore.

,,Ms Venable?'' the calling of her name pulls her back into the present.

,,Yes I'm quite aware, I was doing more assistant duties in my recent job rather than HR things so I know how both works'' Wilhemina replies.

,,Very well, I have to report back to Ms Priestly and we will be in touch'' Emily explains as she parts ways with Wilhemina.

As Wilhemina walks out of the meeting room, Emily makes her way back to her desk, sighing slightly and rubbing her temples. ,,Who was that?'' she hears the voice of her boss as she approaches from behind and watches Wilhemina walk out and into the elevator. ,,Um she- she was here for the interview'' Emily states, nervousness overtaking her as it had been far too long since the position was vacant but none of the other applicants had been worthy of the task so far.

,,And how did that go?'' Miranda questions, her eyes piercing through Emily. ,,I'm - she's a bit strange but she's got a perfectly acceptable skill set and I think this may work''. Emily had no idea what she was saying to her boss but somehow there was something about Wilhemina she could see working out. ,,Good give her a call then, I'll meet her tomorrow'' Miranda explains before heading out for lunch.

A little while later Wilhemina makes it back to her apartment, getting ready to make some tea, as she feels her phone vibrate in her pocket. ,,Venable'' she answers the phone before the annoying voice of a british ginger she had met with before appears. ,,Hi Ms Venable, this is Emily, we would gladly offer you the position, would you be able to make it to the office by 8am tomorrow? Ms. Priestly would like to meet with you.'' Wilhemina accepts before the call ends.

The rest of her day is spent with usual Wilhemina things, up until six months ago she in fact didn't have any decent hobbies but since moving to New York she took it upon herself to actually try and do things she enjoys. This mostly contained her weird little routines, like a coffee in the morning while reading the newspaper, her usual 3pm walk around the park and occasionally knitting while watching the history channel in the background. Before Wilhemina goes to bed this evening, she starts her computer, googling some more about Runway and her soon to be boss Ms. Priestly.

,,Dragon Lady, career-obsessed, drove away another Mr. Priestly'' one of the headlines reads. This article had been some time ago now and the rest Wilhemina can find is all about the latest fashion shows and events run by Runway. The redhead can't help but chuckle at the Dragon Lady headline.

-------

,,She may see you now'' Emily explains the next morning, after Wilhemina spent some time at her desk, getting familiar with Mirandas schedule, important clients and phone numbers. The redhead gets up, balancing on her cane before walking into her bosses office.

,,And you are.. Ms Venable?'' Miranda questions, taking her reading glasses off and taking a good luck at the redhead standing in-front of her. Usually Miranda would refer to her assistants on a first name basis but somehow she wasn't sure with this one. She was remarkably older than her usual assistants and she definitely has class. Wilhemina didn't notice what an impression she already made on the woman with slightly grey hair.

,,The pleasure is all mine Ms Priestly'' Wilhemina replies, facing an inner battle of needing to be friendly considering it's her first day but her usual bitchy and snarky self coming through.

Miranda's response is a low throaty chuckle before moving on. ,,I assume Emily has got you situated''

,,Yes she did'' Wilhemina replies bluntly and to the point.

,,I'm curious, why Runway?'' Miranda questions as she scans Wilheminas outfit, that is plastered in purple yet again.

,,I have experience in HR and being an assistant and therefore I think this is a good fit''. Wilhemina explains calmly.

,,Are you aware that the colour purple in fashion was very popular in the 1860's and quickly became associated with the royal and wealthy?'' Miranda carries on.

Wilhemina raises an eyebrow, not too sure what to even reply to her statement. ,,What makes you think I'm neither?'' was what Wilhemina had really wanted to say but instead she remained silent.

,,Is there anything I can assist you with this morning?'' Wilhemina eventually asks before Miranda pauses a moment.

,,No that's all'' her boss replies before Wilhemina makes her way back to her desk.

,,Um-'' Emily watches as Wilhemina returns, of course having overheard the entire thing. Slightly dumbfounded at the name choice, the fact Miranda didn't kill her for asking a question and not sending Wilhemina on several runs for coffees and other things.

,,Emily, go fetch those Calvin Klein skirts and some coffee'' Miranda says as she walks out of the office, grabbing her coat and handbag.

,,But-'' Emily has no chance to reply as Miranda is already gone. Her face is overtaken by anger as she glares at Wilhemina. ,,You know this is your job. You are responsible for the phone until I'm back'' Emily explains as she hastily runs out.

Wilhemina mutters a snarky reply under her breath before continuing her work.

About half an hour later Miranda returns to the office, Emily not back yet, she hesitates before handing her coat and bag to Wilhemina. The redhead takes her belongings before hanging them up. Miranda watches carefully noticing how the redhead has to balance on her cane and her movements swift but careful. The boss of Runway can't help but examine Wilhemina's gloves with a hint of disgust.

,,Demarchelier confirmed while you were gone, it's noted in your calendar. I have also rearranged one of your meetings for you, as it would have overlapped with another'' Wilhemina calmly explains as she makes it back to her desk.

,,De- you?'' Miranda stares at Wilhemina a bit dumfounded as this was in fact her first day. ,,Fine'' she simply says, her usual sternness overtaking her again.

Wilhemina can't help but notice her boss staring at her gloves, overtaking by insecurity she snaps ,,Is there some sort of problem?''

Miranda's eyes widen as her gaze meets the redheads. ,,Is this at least real leather or faux leather?'' she questions and Wilhemina can't help but chuckle lowly.

,,And where is Emily with those skirts and coffees? did she die on the way or something?'' Miranda questions, walking back into her office.

[thebiggerbear]

Jensen Ackles Characters Masterlist

Dean Winchester from Supernatural

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that." - You and Dean refuse to speak to one another after an argument and Sam has finally had enough.

"Sleep. I'll keep you safe." - When Sam calls to tell you that Dean is gone, you can’t accept it. Not until you visit the offline Bunker and see for yourself. …But is he really gone?

Part 2 of "Sleep." (coming very soon)

Follow Me Into the Dark - Tragedy has struck in your life, quickly and without warning, leaving you completely devastated. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Dean Winchester rolls into town and he and his brother are starting to ask questions. Questions that you are not prepared to answer though you have a question of your own: just what the hell is Dean doing darkening your doorstep again?

when were you going to tell me - After finding out you concealed something from him on a hunt, Dean is not happy with you and he definitely does not appreciate your attempts at humor on the subject.

"You're safe now. I'm here."

Real or Not Real

"What do you see in him?" "Everything you don't."

Soldier Boy from The Boys

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that." - You’re pissed that he put himself at risk yet again.

"I took care of that asshole for you." "I don't like the sound of that." - When Ben mentions something to you in the middle of battle, your attempt at a little levity turns the conversation in a direction that probably would have been better kept off of Comms during a mission.

Part 2 of "I took care of that asshole for you." (coming very soon)

"Sleep. I'll keep you safe." - You’re tired of running and you go to Soldier Boy for protection. He agrees to do it but not without a price.

"What do you see in him?" "Everything you don't." - Hughie and everyone don’t understand what you see in Soldier Boy but they also haven’t seen what you’ve seen: Ben.

"You're safe now. I'm here." - Soldier Boy has been on a ton of dangerous missions in his time, fought a lot of battles, but never did he imagine he would be undertaking the one you had just tasked him with. Shit.

Call My Name - Grace Mallory, the Boys, and the government have all warily agreed to your plan to take down Homelander. There’s just one more person to add to the operation, the very person who is necessary for any measure of the plan’s success. Can you convince him to join the team and help you defeat Homelander once and for all?

every king needs a queen - Homelander makes you an offer that you are all too happy to refuse

Keep Me Inside - When you took a job at Vought International to pay the bills, you never could have imagined just how much your life was about to change. Especially when you catch the eye of a certain Supe.

no one's the new me - Soldier Boy is the OG Supe. You goad him into proving it and get more than you bargained for…or did you?

Something Real - You had offered him the chance for something the two of you could build, something real, if he gave up the suit for good.

Thankful - It’s Father’s Day again and you have an extra special present for Ben this time around.

Where is she? - Soldier Boy only has one thought in mind when Homelander wakes him up: you.

sequel to Something Real (where SB gets his vengeance)

I've Been Waiting For You

Beau Arlen from Big Sky

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that." - He put you with Hoyt and Tonya. For the day. What the hell had he been thinking?

"Sleep. I'll keep you safe." - Your house is broken into one night when Beau wasn’t home and now you find yourself expecting it to happen again at any moment. Will you ever feel safe in your home again?

A Twist of Fate (mini series coming very soon)

i need your hand but i don't want to burn it - You receive a phone call letting you know a family member has passed. The news rocks your world, especially when you find yourself flying back home for the services, returning to a place you’d rather forget. As your best friend, Beau is trying to be there for you but you’re determined to go it alone. But since you’ve known him, when has Beau Arlen ever not had your back?

if you love me (don't let go) (mini series coming very soon)

Only Ever Holding Onto You - When Beau Arlen called and asked you to join him at the Lewis & Clark County Sheriff’s Department, you knew you should have turned him down. Sure, he made a great case for your relocation, but it was the sound of his voice that had you putting in for an immediate transfer. After all, he was worried and needed you; how could you say no? Yet, the more time you spend in Big Sky Country, the more you wonder if you should have stayed in Houston.

The Ghosts Are Coming For You - When you moved to Montana, you figured you’d be in for a much quieter, more slow-paced lifestyle compared to the big city one you had left behind. Meeting Lewis and Clark County’s youngest sheriff while working a string of murders in your new position in Homicide turns out to be anything but — especially when things start to hit a little too close to home and remind you of things you thought you’d left buried long ago.

"You're safe now. I'm here."

"I never wanted to lose you like that."

Guide Me To You

You Are My Home

"What do you see in him?" "Everything you don't."

Alec McDowell from Dark Angel 2000

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that." - You’re looking for a way to set yourself up and blend in after breaking out of Manticore. Having heard the rumors, you seek out Max for help. In doing so, you come across someone you had never thought you’d see again.

Nothing But Killing Time - Manticore has recaptured you and this time, you’ve been assigned a breeding partner. From the moment you meet, it’s evident that neither you nor X5-494 have anything in mind other than a means of escape. Can you two come up with a plan together to break out and reclaim your freedom? Or will Manticore come between you and shatter the fragile trust you’ve built?

"Sleep. I'll keep you safe."

"You're safe now. I'm here."

"What do you see in him?" "Everything you don't."

Jason Teague from Smallville

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that." - When another student makes an unwanted move on you, Jason’s not above flexing his assistant coach authority muscle a little to get the guy to leave you alone and send a message.

Part 2 of "I hate you." (coming very soon)

"Sleep. I'll keep you safe." - Jason has just helped you escape the clutches of his nefarious mother. Where will you go from here now that you know the truth?

Part 2 of "Sleep." (coming very soon)

"You're safe now. I'm here."

"What do you see in him?" "Everything you don't."

CJ Braxton from Dawson's Creek

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that." - You had only meant to call once, remaining anonymous while feeling out the whole helpline thing for yourself. Now, you talk to CJ every Friday night around the same time. When you don’t call one Friday, CJ is worried and comes looking for you which presents its own host of problems.

i won't let you go - When Jen breaks CJ’s heart, though you hadn’t planned on it, her loss quickly becomes your gain and so much more.

Something Like This - A Nor'easter hits Boston and luckily for you, you don’t have anywhere you need to be except right here, snuggled up with CJ.

Part 3 of "I hate you." & Something Like This (coming very soon)

"You're safe now. I'm here."

Don't Give Up On Me

"What do you see in him?" "Everything you don't."

Tom Hanniger from My Bloody Valentine 2009

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that." - You went to visit Tom in the mines for a little Valentine’s Day fun. Who knew that one decision would lead to everything that’s happened? Will you be able to help Tom or will he be lost to you forever?

"Sleep. I'll keep you safe." - Tom has taken you hostage. This is not the Tom you knew and fell in love with. Unable to escape, can you get him to trust you and maybe even reach him?

"You're safe now. I'm here."

"What do you see in him?" "Everything you don't."

Jake Gray from Devour 2005

nothing to win and nothing left to lose

You're Mine

"Sleep. I'll keep you safe."

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

"You're safe now. I'm here."

"What do you see in him?" "Everything you don't." - When you go with Jake to visit his mom, you encounter a young woman who inexplicably sets you on edge and has you sticking that much closer to the boy who has your heart.

Boaz Priestly from Ten Inch Hero

"Sleep. I'll keep you safe."

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

"You're safe now. I'm here."

"What do you see in him?" "Everything you don't."

Russell Shaw from Tracker

Close Enough - When you’d met the Shaws at the morgue the day before, you thought that had been the end of it and you wouldn’t need to see one Shaw brother in particular again. Little did you know that Colter was about to once again ask for your help and not only would you be forced to see Russell again but things were about to change drastically for the both of you.

Closer - Now that Russell knows the truth about you, there isn’t anything he won’t do to try to get you out. Even if it means he might have to move up the timeline of his exit strategy earlier than planned.

Off Limits - When Reenie sends you to assist Colter with whatever he needs after getting arrested for breaking into a morgue in Virginia, you meet his older brother Russell for the first time. There’s some flirting and definitely a mutual attraction there before you Colter sends you off. Little do you know at the time that Colter has warned Russell that you’re off limits and that Russell has no intention of listening to said warning.

So Close - You meet Colter and Russell at the morgue to help them gain access. Had you known how this was really going to go, you might have pushed Colter’s call to voicemail.

"You're safe now. I'm here." Part 1 - You’ve been taken hostage and Russell is part of the unit sent in to retrieve you.

"You're safe now. I'm here." Part 2 (coming very soon)

"Sleep. I'll keep you safe."

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

"What do you see in him?" "Everything you don't."

Within Limits (sequel to Off Limits)

Michael!Dean from Supernatural

Let Me Set Your World on Fire - While on a hunt, you all get stuck in an abandoned cabin in the woods due to a snowstorm that comes out of nowhere. It’s cold as hell (Cas’ fact checking not withstanding) and both you and Dean are trying to fight off the icy temperatures. When Cas offers his coat to Dean, in usual Michael fashion, the archangel offers you something bigger and more to his liking than a simple article of clothing to keep you warm.

This Time The World Burns and You With It

"You're safe now. I'm here."

Demon!Dean from Supernatural

AU!Dean from Supernatural

Endverse!Dean from Supernatural

MOC!Dean from Supernatural

Dean Smith from Supernatural

Huntercorp!Dean from Supernatural

Purgatory!Dean

Ben | X5-493

Jensen Ackles RPF

Come Pick Up Your Ghosts - Jensen left a little…something behind on his last visit when he was in town. Something you are urgently asking him to come back and retrieve so you can know peace once more.

i want better for you...what's better for you than me? - Your heart is broken and you’re currently going through a divorce that didn’t have to happen. Will you give Jensen the chance to explain everything that came about from that one night in Rome when you weren’t there?

Trust Me

"What do you see in him?" "Everything you don't." - Jensen says something at a con that initially bothers you that prompts a conversation where you admit that there are certain parts of his job that you could easily do without, not sure how that’s going to impact your friendship moving forward.

Mark Meachum from Countdown

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx

dividers by @firefly-graphics

[eli-is-an-idiot]

have i got to reread an inspector calls in its entirety in the next few weeks?

yes.

did i bring it on holiday with me for the purpose of reading it and doing my work?

also yes.

am i instead handwriting a sfth fic because my laptop is in another country?

........unfortunately yes.

[cheynovak]

Help a girl out

Update.... It's done. I couldnt wait.

Y'all find it: Here

------

Hi everyone!

My ex-punk teenage self is trying to convince me to write a fanfic on Priestly, I seem to read a lot of SPN/the boys stories ( And I love them, don't get me wrong. 🥰 )

But I want to read more Boaz fanfiction since he was one of my first crushes. (I didn't even knew who Jensen was back then.)

So my questions for you:

Would you like those stories, or is he just a character we like but don't love enough to read about?

AND what kind of story do you like to read?

Oh!! And one other thing! If you have a Boaz Priestly story written... Feel free to tag me. ❤️

[south-of-heaven]

Did so good || Rhea Ripley x Reader x Damian Priest

Summary: Rhea is so happy after her match. Damian is still sulking over his ruined cash-in.

A/N: I can't stop thinking about that video so here is a little fic.

The arena buzzed with post-match excitement backstage at Crown Jewel, and you were practically bouncing with joy. Rhea had just retained her title in the Fatal Five-Way match, and you couldn't have been prouder of her. As you stood waiting near the locker rooms, you watched her approach, still in her ring gear, her championship held high.

"Eeeee!! You did so good!" you squealed as she drew near. Your enthusiasm was contagious, and you jumped into her arms, wrapping your legs around her waist. Rhea laughed, hugging you tightly, the taste of victory still fresh on her lips.

"Thank you, baby," She smiled, kissing you gently before setting you down and walking over to the tall, brooding figure standing a few feet away.

"I did it," she said, her voice filled with a mix of pride and relief. Tears shimmered in her eyes as she looked at Damian standing in front of her, still sporting a sour expression. She sought his approval more than anyone else's.

Damian had good reason to be upset; Sami Zayn had just stolen his briefcase as he tried to cash in on Seth Rollins. But when he saw Rhea looking at him the way she did, his anger melted away. She looked outright adorable, and he couldn't resist her, especially when she sought his reassurance.

He pulled Rhea in close, her head nestled against his chest, and kissed the top of her head. "Yeah, baby," he said softly, his gruff voice filled with warmth, "you did it. You did so damn good out there. I'm proud of you."

Rhea's smile brightened, and she hugged Damian even tighter. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the celebration of her hard-fought victory and the love she shared with you and Damian, the people who meant the world to her.

[rippersz]

Miranda Priestly and f Reader. Reader gets in between an altercation between Miranda and Stephen. She later tells Miranda "I'll never let anyone talk to you like that again"

𝙰 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚞𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

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(Fem!Reader x Miranda Priestly) (Pining) (TW: Abusive language)

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“Oh give me a break! You don’t have to make up excuses to try and salvage my ego, Miranda!”

The minute you walked in, you knew something was wrong.

The townhouse air in the evening was usually still and quiet, but the stomping footsteps on the second floor provided a tension that made you pause in the foyer. Stephen was home, you realized. His weird manly cologne filled your lungs, nearly bringing tears to your eyes with how strong it was. Almost a year as Miranda’s assistant, spending time around her husband at least once or twice, and you still couldn’t get used to his smell. Probably because every little thing about Stephen was either utterly boring or terribly annoying. Emily said it was both, but she only expressed that when he called so frequently that Miranda told her to instantly send them to voicemail. ‘If he has something important to say, he’ll leave a message’ but every time he did, it was just a stream of complaints.

If you were in his shoes, something you didn’t think about often because why would you, then you knew you wouldn’t take her attention for granted. She gave it when she could and a loving partner would understand that, and such understanding would lead to a lack of tension, and a lack of tension would result in more of her recognition. Or that’s what you thought. Again- not that you thought about it frequently of course - cuz that would just be silly and unrealistic and strange because she was your boss and she was the most emotionally unavailable woman you knew and even though she loved her daughters, her love for her partners was different and-

“I can’t go one day without them shooting looks at me- like- like I’m some dog! Probably wondering where my keeper is!” His voice echoed upon every floor, making you wince as you slid the Book into its assigned place.

Evidently, they hadn’t heard you come in. They should have been expecting you; at least Miranda should have, but it was easy to lose track of time during the winter months. It seemed to move so quickly, with a prime example being that it was 11:20 on the dot once you got there. Miranda had to attend a small dinner party at 9, so she eventually returned home at 10:30. Not the worst timing for a Friday night, but if Stephen had been ranting from the very moment she stepped in, well then you had no doubt she was tired. Too tired to argue perhaps as you barely heard her murmured response.

“We can discuss this in the morning. It’s late.” She sounded worn. It made your heart ache as you looked up at the ceiling, momentarily debating if you should stay or leave.

“Oh yeah? Just so you can escape back into your job to try and distract yourself from the real issues? Stop acting like a child, Miranda. We’ll talk about this now like adults.” The way Stephen ‘put his foot down’ was nothing in comparison to Miranda’s method. He was too loud about it - too demanding. It wasn’t very effective, even though it did make up your mind for you.

Staying was risky, of course. You could get caught, of course. You could get fired, of course. But honestly? You didn’t trust your boss’s husband. You didn’t trust his demeanor or his drinking or any other little thing about him. And although you didn’t think he would really hurt her, the worry that planted itself in the back of your brain grew swiftly; festering like a disease as you inched yourself toward the stairs and placed your hand on the cold bannister. Worrying for your boss was not your place, but above that, worrying for Miranda Priestly was not your right. You weren’t hers and she wasn’t yours - so there was really no need to stick around. She was entirely capable of taking care of herself.

…And yet?

And yet, something in your gut told you to stay. It was quiet but present - and it murmured softly, convincing you that the second you stepped out of the door and got into the car with Roy and drove off into the night, something would happen. Something bad. Something that you could have avoided if only you were there.

So no, you couldn’t leave. Not yet. Even though Miranda was most likely prepared to tear Stephen a new one.

“I am acting like a child? Calling your wife at 9:45 PM to complain about her absence at a dinner you didn’t confirm is far more childish than me doing my job. What did you expect me to do when you called? Run out of an important business dinner to dash over and wipe your tears before drowning my embarrassment in an overpriced ‘welcome bread basket’? Don’t be absurd, Stephen. You knew I was busy.” And she proved you right - speaking in a low edgy hiss that you suspected was only reserved for her husband. Interestingly enough though, even alone in her house, arguing with this person or the other, Miranda never raised her voice.

No one else thought it was noteworthy enough to mention in quiet conversation, but you were often tempted to bring it up to Nigel. You figured it was because of her childhood - whatever that had been like - and that she vowed to keep her vocal cords safe. It was a small little detail, but when one conversed with Miranda, sometimes it seemed like the only thing to focus on. Her words are always important, yes, but watching her lips move… and seeing the way her teeth formed each syllable… well it was mesmerizing in a way you’d never be able to properly explain. And Stephen, who was pacing the floor above you, was far too daft to understand that.

“What, so if I want to have dinner with my wife, I have to confirm through her assistant? You barely pick up, Miranda!” The sudden growl in his voice had you placing one foot on the stair next to you.

‘This is just a precautionary measure’ you told yourself, knowing that was far from the truth.

“And you pick up too often.” Her quip was breathy and sharp - a clear end to the conversation as you heard her soft footsteps trailing off into another room.

“What does that even mean?! I’m trying to be a good husband, but you are ruining my reputatio-”

“Your reputation?” The venom in Miranda’s voice silenced her husband immediately. “Your reputation…,” you pictured her shaking her head before letting out a little mocking laugh; “…I have no effect on how much you succeed in your career. If you can’t separate work and life, that’s not my problem.”

Their voices were drifting away, lost to the floorplan of their home as you slowly skirted your way up the stairs. It seemed that Miranda had taken your common sense with her when she walked off, leaving Stephen (and you) to follow like lost puppies. Although, she still didn’t know you were there. And you still weren’t going to leave - not until he stopped raising his voice and waking the entire neighborhood.

“God you know- you always treat me like shit, Miranda.” You winced, knowing very well how much she hated cursing. “I am your HUSBAND. You should be speaking to me with respect - not like I’m another worthless magazine you can get rid of. I’ve given you EVERYTHING I have and what have you given me? A few hours of your time? Nothing? Just enlighten me, because I’m really at a loss right now!”

There was a bang then. It was strong and hard and it sounded like he hit something- maybe a side table or a wall- but it didn’t matter to you. He had hit something and if he could hit something- an inanimate object- he could hit his wife and if he hit his wife, he could hurt her and you couldn’t just stand there- you couldn’t just listen to his slander when his wife was giving him everything!; when she was providing and taking care of the children and doing her job all at the same time. You gulped, noticed that you had gravitated up to the second floor, and decided in a split second that if Miranda had anything to say, you’d simply come up with an excuse.

Then, as you listened for where they had gone, you heard hurried footsteps coming back toward the stairs.

“Don’t ignore me, Miranda! Stop hiding behind your job and just admit that you don’t give a fuck about us! I try so hard every day and every night and all you can do is- is- is whore yourself out to those fucking businessmen!”

The gasp that bubbled up in your throat escaped without hesitation. You had never heard anyone talk about Miranda like that - and especially not to her face. If anyone else had spoken so wickedly, you were almost certain that they’d be blacklisted from every bloody establishment in New York City, whether it had to do with fashion or not. But Stephen… well you knew that she had her own reputation to protect - and an escaping husband was not ideal.

But still…

Still…

She didn’t deserve that. And the injustice that had sparked earlier welled up like water boiling over the lip of a full pot. How dare he? How dare he speak to her like that? Your hands balled into fists at your sides; painted nails digging into the skin of your palms.

“Still nothing to say? Huh?!”

A split second later, followed by the sound of Stephen’s yelling, Miranda walked around the corner.

And there your eyes met.

She looked tired at that moment… and small… and utterly incensed at the idea of you being there and witnessing that. The shock played out on her face in the span of a millisecond; with a wide blue gaze and perfect lips parted and sculpted eyebrows raised onto her forehead - which was half covered by a swooping waterfall of messy white hair. It was beyond clear that she was ready for bed and that Stephen was just prolonging her suffering, but you sent a silent prayer to the gods asking to keep your job just before her husband showed up. His hands were on his hips, his face was screwed up into a tired and angry frown, and upon seeing you- he let out a loud scoff.

“Are you kidding me?!” His yell was right in Miranda’s ear but she didn’t seem to care. She didn’t even flinch.

Instead, she was staring right at you. At you. With some sort of fury- some sort of strange deep emotion- swirling around in pearlescent eyes. You felt your knees grow weak but held your ground. If she was going to yell, let her yell. If she was going to coldly dismiss you, let her coldly dismiss you. But at the end of the day, the longer you stared, the more you knew that she knew. That she understood. In the strange telekinetic way that most women shared - the concern that compelled you to stay was reflected in her gaze. And there, in the lull of irritation and tension, was a conversation that only the two of you shared.

It was spoken softly, slowly, and through your eyes alone.

‘I stayed because I was scared for you.’

‘I know.’

‘Are you mad at me?’

‘I don’t know. This wasn’t your place.’

‘I understand. I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.’

‘I can handle myself.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘…I know.’

“Did you plan this? Is that why she’s here?! What- did- did you call her? To witness us fight? See I knew you were fucking crazy! From day one I told myself ‘Stephen don’t get involved with her’ and now look where I am!”

Your silent conversation was snapped in half as he ranted; all while shoving past Miranda to walk further into the hall and throw his hands up in the air like a kid. You felt your body jolt at the sight of her being pushed, but like the impenetrable wall she could be, your boss stood her ground and allowed her husband to brush past her shoulder. As if there wasn’t force in the way he walked. As if you weren’t this close to throwing a punch.

And Miranda could see it in you. She could see the irritation- the sense of injustice and everything that came with it- but she also knew you wouldn’t do anything. You were too kind. Too understanding.

Well… unless someone like Stephen said what he said next.

“You know what? No. I’m done. You listen to me right now,” and then he rounded on your boss, walking right up into her space so quickly that you couldn’t help but push yourself to get closer. And from where you stood then, you saw the way he pushed his finger into her chest and seethed with an unnecessary amount of rage.

“You listen and you learn. I have had it up to here with your bullshit. The cold shoulder, the missed dinners, the terrible schedules, the fact that you don’t even care if the twins like me or not - I’m sick of it. You treat me like an accessory. Another bag for the queen of fashion to throw out but guess what. Guess what, Miranda! I don’t care anymore. We’re separating - and you’re gonna end up like all of the other sad washed up celebrities: Pathetic and- and- weak and alone. Because no one- no one- could possibly love you like this,” and you watched with disgust as he shook his head and let out a cruel laugh. “No one could possibly look at you, with your stuck-up bitchy behavior, and see something worth loving. And-”

Before he could continue, you heard yourself speaking.

“You are absolutely pathetic.”

Two sets of eyes turned on you - one of them confused and the other severe, silently telling you to just shut your mouth. Normally, you would. Normally, you’d listen to your boss and obey her commands- silent or not- because you appreciated her authority and you were halfway in love with her. But it was for that last reason, the very reason why your ribcage felt like a zoo butterfly exhibit, that you decided not to listen. Sure, Miranda would hear your angry love-sick quips, but that didn’t matter. You were going to spill your heart out onto the floor, take a page out of your boss’s book…

…and kick Stephen’s ego into the dust.

“What did you just say?” His eyes were disbelieving as he turned to you; and though a twinge of fear dug at your heart, you pushed on.

“You heard me. You’re pathetic. Pathetic and weak and honestly? Really really embarrassing. It’s no wonder she doesn’t wanna spend time with you. Aside from being the busiest person on Earth and providing you with a roof over your head, she has kids and a job to maintain. But it’s fine- it’s fine!, because you get to complain and she doesn’t. Because you think she owes you everything, but she doesn’t. And she never did. And she never will.” You weren’t sure when you had gotten so close to him, but the backwards step he took gave you enough confidence to continue. “And if you think you mean anything to her, above her children, above her passion, then you are so sorely mistaken that it’s almost funny. Because me, and so many others, have seen how much Miranda cares about those closest to her - and if she’s not making you better, then you’re clearly not worth her time. But maybe if you exercised some more respect, maybe if you showed you cared, she’d bother to call you back and she’d bother to act like your wife. But you don’t do that. So why should she show you what you don’t show her? Huh? Why should she love you when there’s other people out there- when- when there’s people like- like Nigel, like Emily, like me,” you took a deep breath, nearly choking on your words because you were talking so fast, “who would give her the world if she asked for it. Who would do anything to have her attention. So- so why should she love you when you take it for granted? When you, who gets it for free, don’t have to bend over backwards for her affection? When- when- you- you attend events with her, you have dinner with her, she calls you darling! And you take it all for GRANTED - BECAUSE YOU JUST DON’T CARE!”

Your eyes were most likely bloodshot. Your body was shaking. Your head was pounding and your heart was in your throat.

But Stephen looked shocked, having taken more steps backward toward the stairs as you approached him like a blood-thirsty lioness. And at that, watching the way his hand scrambled for the banister, you felt a strange twist of pride creep throughout your heart.

…But it wasn’t enough. You wanted him gone. So you cleared your throat, straightened your spine, and sniffed.

“That’s enough.”

Of course. Miranda cut in, her cool voice dousing your rage like a bucket of water over burning coals; dragging you back into yourself from where you had gotten lost in the clouds; reminding you that you weren’t supposed to be there in the first place. That you were just an assistant. Just a young woman who had stepped out of line to try and protect a woman who didn’t really need it. And instinctively, as though you had been slapped in the face or tugged by a leash, you backpedaled until Miranda’s soft footsteps came over and her back faced you. Stephen’s expression was hidden.

“…I’ll contact Leslie in the morning,” her voice was soft… introspective… distant in a way that made you nervous. “Until then… find somewhere else to spend the night.”

And things grew very quiet.

The only sounds you heard were the bustle of the city and the individual breathing of the three of you. Everything else was silent. The rest of the house, empty without Patricia and the twins (all of which were visiting their grandparents), felt like a movie set with a hidden audience. As though, at about any minute, the credits for the end of the episode would roll and you, Miranda, and Stephen would let out sighs of relief and walk off set and go get cups of water and coffee. But even as you stood there, trying hard not to tilt to the left to watch Stephen walk downstairs and out of the house, you knew what had happened was no fun and games. No, you’d definitely be facing consequences once he was gone.

And finally, after a few more moments of prolonged silence, his footsteps were going down the stairs and into the foyer. Your eyes traced the contours of Miranda’s silk shirt, watching the way it flowed over her shoulders as she walked closer to the staircase to watch Stephen go. One minute- two minutes- and then the front door was opening and closing behind him…

…and silence fell again.

You swallowed, feeling as though you had suddenly been thrown into the center of the sun. The heat of your embarrassment was excruciating - and if Miranda turned around, she’d spot the blush on your cheeks instantaneously. But that was a strong if, because she hadn’t just yet. Nope, instead, she stood staring at the door, letting the air settle. And you weren’t going to interrupt that, so you kept your mouth shut and tried to rationalize mentally.

If she asked, you’d just tell her the truth. That the world got crueler each day and it was in your nature to worry and that no wife should ever come face to face with a furious partner - at least not without the chance to talk civilly at first. And then you’d tell her that it was okay if she wanted to fire you and that you were sorry for being so open and that if you had fucked things up, you’d do whatever you could to fix them.

…

The silence eventually became deafening. And there was an itch in your legs that was getting to you. And your hands were slowly untensing, left with an ache from the pressing of your fingernails. And the exhaustion from the long day was getting to you - so you cleared your throat and prepared yourself.

“Miranda, I’m so sor-”

“That was unnecessary.” You couldn’t hear an ounce of emotion in her tone.

And all you could do was nod and look down at your feet.

“I- I know. I know. But I just… I just couldn’t leave, Miranda.”

“You couldn’t or you didn’t want to?”

Well that was a brilliant question. One you wished you could answer without crying. One you wished you could answer without feeling like a complete loser.

“…Both, I guess.” You settled on the best option you could think of and began shaking your head when the only response you got was a low hum of acknowledgment.

And Miranda still hadn’t moved. She was probably compartmentalizing - or disappearing into her fashionable mind palace - all while you stood there looking at her like she had just smacked your ice cream onto the floor.

Well… if there was one thing you knew, it was that the tension-filled silence couldn’t continue. She could either fire you quickly or make it slow and painful, but either way you weren’t going down without a fight.

“Look, I’m sorry. I am. I know it was out of line and it was too much and I should’ve just kept my mouth shut but I promise I did it with good intentions. And I promise I wouldn’t have stayed if I wasn’t worried and I wouldn’t have said anything if I weren’t genuinely upset. And… and I don’t know if you want to fire me because of that, but if you’re gonna do it - please just get it over with. I know I’m a good assistant, I- I know I’ve learned quickly and I’m sorry that I just completely ruined that right now but if you somehow just gave me another chance, I wouldn’t make another mistake. I promise. And I wouldn’t- I- I-,” you stumbled over your words, feeling the intense pounding of your heart press up against your chest, like it was begging to bounce onto the floor and tumble down the stairs. And the feeling felt so sickening that you had to take a deep breath and shake your head and push down the angry, anxious, terrified tears that yearned to spill into your eyes. “And I- I’ll- I’ll never let anyone talk to you like that again… I promise.”

Your voice was frail. The fire from earlier was gone - as though it had never existed at all. And Miranda still just stood there, with her phone in one hand and her face turned away from you…. Like you weren’t good enough to see her. Like you didn’t deserve to know what she was thinki-”

“You talk too much.” It was the only thing she said before she turned around and walked right past you - faster than lightning.

And you blinked just in time, turning on your heel and staring after her.

“Wh-what? That’s it?” You called. No firing? No scolding?

The room she was heading into looked like a study - but that swiftly became unimportant when she paused at the door and turned to you.

Her face, lit up by the hall light, looked tired in the same way it was earlier. But her eyes… well there was something in them that you couldn’t place. It looked like amusement… and something softer. Something- dare you say- grateful. But it was probably just a trick of the light - and you were probably just hallucinating because of your own exhaustion - and she was most likely just itching to get her duty done and go to bed.

And you suspected that was the case until she took a second to look you up and down in that way that she did- with her blue eyes searching and her gaze laser-sharp- and eventually, eventually, she made it back up to your face. Her expression was blank.

“…On Monday morning, tell Emily that the clothing department has a new opening. Then tell everybody else.” There was a pause. “…And be prepared to start interviews on Tuesday.”

And the last you saw of her then- of the sweet poison you called Miranda Priestly- was the statuesque shape of her body’s side profile as she softly closed the study door.

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Thank you for the request, anon! I understand this isn't terribly fluffy, but I wanted to make it as realistic as I could. I hope you enjoyed! - Ripley

(P.S. DWP is my favorite movie!)

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