#when I’d accuse my loved ones of planning to leave me

[borderlinereminders]

Please try and reach out for help and reassurance in a way that doesn’t involve guilt tripping your loved ones.

I understand what it feels like to feel abandoned or unloved or any number of things but telling a loved one “I guess you don’t love me” or “you’re just going to leave me like everyone else” isn’t the way to handle it.

As someone who has been on both sides of it, that is hurtful. While you may tell yourself it’s not personal, it doesn’t change that it hurts to be accused of something when you love someone so much. It’s also exhausting and just overall something that can damage your relationships. In some cases, it can create self fulfilling prophecies. (Things like accusing a loved one of planning to abandon you like everyone else take a toll.)

This could be much better framed as “I’m feeling really insecure today. Could you please give me some reassurance?”

Remember that your feelings aren’t facts. Don’t accuse your loved ones of things like this.

[holylulusworld]

Best Valentine ever

Summary: Your fiancé breaks your heart on Valentine’s Day out of all days.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, former!(any male character) x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, break-up, mentions/implied cheating, fluff, Bucky being the best, flirting, violence, blood

Valentine reloaded

That night Bucky couldn’t sleep. He watched you squirm on the bed until you turned in your sleep and snuggled in his chest. You murmured his name, making his chest swell. 

“He should’ve never left you, doll. How could that bastard leave a woman like you?”

“Hmm…” You rubbed your cheek into his chest.

“His loss, huh?” Bucky looked down at you on his chest and wrapped his arms around you. “I’ll never let you slip through my fingers.” He grinned. “I can’t believe I found a firecracker like you outside that awful bar.”

“Bucky,” you lifted your head to look up at him. “You should sleep too. Stop talking to yourself.”

“I wasn’t talking to myself. All I did was reminisce about the day we spent together,” he huffed. “Did you spy on me, doll? You know, that’s impolite.” Bucky ran his hand up and down your back. 

“You were talking in your sleep, Bucky,” you yawned and snuggled back into his chest. “You said something about firecrackers.”

He kissed the top of your head. “We can talk in the morning. You should sleep now. It was a long and exhausting day.”

Your eyes fluttered close as you listened to Bucky’s heartbeat. His warm hand caressed your back, making it easier for you to drift into sleep.

“Morning,” Bucky grinned when you walked inside your kitchen. “I didn’t know what you like so, I ordered breakfast for champions.”

“What is all of this?” You gasped. Bucky ordered croissants, French toast, muffins, pancakes, a collection of fresh fruits, and three sorts of freshly pressed juices. “That’s enough for twenty people.” 

“I had hoped you’re hungry, doll,” he said and pulled a chair for you. “I have something planned for us. Only if you want to spend the day with me.”

“I have the rest of the week off,” you bit your tongue, and shook your head. “I took a few days off to…”

“I get it,” he gently squeezed your shoulder. “I highly recommend the French toast and pancakes. But you can eat whatever your heart desires.”

“You’re not married or taken, right?” You suddenly asked. “Shoot, I should’ve asked you so before I spent the night with you.”

“Doll, I’m not the kind of man going out with a lovely woman while having a girl at home,” Bucky sounded a little hurt at your question. “I swear, I’d never cheat on my girl.” He kissed your cheek. “We are not all assholes.”

“Bucky, I’m sorry,” you immediately said. “I didn’t want to accuse you of being a cheater. It’s just that you seem to be an alright guy and I wonder why you aren’t married yet.”

“An alright guy,” Bucky pressed one hand to his heart. “Only an alright guy?” He hiccupped. “I thought that I impressed you.”

“Bucky, you know that you impressed me,” you winked at Bucky. “A man like you knows how to impress a woman. You have the perfect eyes, and the smile, and know how to make a woman feel comfortable and safe.”

“How about I impress you some more and we go for dinner at your favorite restaurant? I reserved a table for two.” He hopefully looked at you. “If you don’t want to, I understand.”

“I’d love to,” you hastily said. Honestly, you didn’t want to be alone. Bucky was more than a nice distraction. “I’ll pay this time.”

“Y/N, you will soon find out that if I invite a lady for dinner, I’ll pay,” Bucky sat across the table and grabbed a croissant. “Always.”

“What if I eat the whole menu?” You smirked at Bucky. “You know, I’m a hungry lady and just got my heart broken. I’ll need lots of ice cream and sweets.”

“You should know by now that I love watching you eat.” He smirked and took a large bite of the croissant. 

You and Bucky spent the rest of the day removing the remnants of your former fiancé. He forgot a few clothes and nick-nacks you stuffed into a box.

And of course, there were still pictures of him and you in the picture frames staring at you like they wanted to mock you. 

“All done?” Bucky looked at the box you placed next to the door. “Can I get rid of it now or do you want to give it back?”

“I’ll throw it all away,” you shrugged. “It’s not my problem he forgot half of his shit. This happens when you only think with your downstairs brain half of the time.”

Bucky laughed before picking the box up. “I’ll throw it away for you, doll.” He watches your lips wobble. “I should be on my way and get fresh clothes, but I’ll be back soon. If I want to go out with you, I’ll need a new suit.”

True to his words, Bucky came back only two hours later. He wore a new dark-blue suit, and this irresistible smile when he knocked at your door.

Much to your surprise he offered a bouquet of daisies to you. He didn’t tell you that he picked the daisies for you on his way to your apartment. 

“I love daisies,” you smiled wildly. “Thank you, Bucky.”

“They made me think of you,” he softly said. “I saw the daisies on your pillows, and the picture on the wall.”

“I like them…a lot,” you grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently. “I like you too…a lot.”

“I like you a lot too, doll,” he held your hand for a while, looking you deep in the eyes. “Do you want to go for dinner with me, Y/N?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I’d love to join you for dinner, Mr. Barnes.”

“A table for two,” Bucky said to the hostess. “I reserved for James Buchanan Barnes.”

You watched the woman blanch at the mention of Bucky’s name. She nodded slowly and looked at her boss. “This—way.” She stammered, and you wondered why she looked scared out of a sudden.

She guided you and Bucky toward the best table at the restaurant.

“This is your favorite restaurant?” Bucky placed his hand on the small of your back and whispered in your ear. “I like it, doll.”

“It has the best Italian food,” you said and smiled softly. “I discovered it shortly after I moved to town.”

Again, Bucky pulled the chair for you. He didn’t know how nice it was to you that for once, someone did more than the bare minimum. “It’s nice.”

You smiled, and your heart fluttered. You felt comfortable around Bucky and couldn’t imagine spending the night with someone else.

“Do you want to spend the weekend at my house?” Bucky asked, watching you think about his offer. 

He was still a stranger to you, but you weren’t afraid of him or scared that he’d ever hurt you. Bucky’s eyes softened when you struggled to find an answer. “Sorry, doll. I shouldn’t have asked. I know we are still strangers.”

“No…we are friends,” you hastily said. “Right? We are friends, and I’d love to spend more time with you. You know so much about me already, and I barely know anything about you.”

He nodded slowly, eyes drifting toward someone behind your back. His features darkened, and he squared his jaw. Bucky inhaled sharply as the man breaking your heart stepped toward your table to stop right in front of your seat.

“I see you moved on very quickly,” your ex-fiancé sneered at you. “If only I knew you’re a slut.”

“If your ex is a loser like you, it’s easy to get over him,” you coolly replied, the voice never wavering. “You see, I moved on to someone better than you. As you said,” you smirked darkly. “I love him because I don’t love you anymore.”

“You fucking bitc—” your ex couldn’t finish his line. He was busy spitting blood and three of his teeth onto the floor. 

Faster than you could blink Bucky raised to his feet and punched your ex’s face. He watched his opponent fall to his knees, his fist bloody and his face hard.

“Never dare to even look my girl’s way. If you say her name, you are dead,” Bucky cocked his head to nod at someone storming inside the restaurant. “Sam, Steve, I want you to take care of this piece of shit.”

“Bucky,” you swallowed thickly watching the men grab your ex-fiancé to drag him out of the restaurant. “You hit him…for me.”

“Sure did,” he shrugged. “I defend what’s mine.” Bucky's features softened seeing the surprise and a hint of fear in your eyes. “Sorry. I usually don’t get violent on dates.”

“You hit him…for me,” you repeated. “No one ever did such a thing for me!” You jumped up to wrap Bucky in a hug. 

“Doll?” He wondered aloud. “Is everything alright?”

“You’re not a normal guy, right?” You glanced up at Bucky. “Your friends wore guns under their jackets and…people looked scared when you said your name.”

“Uh-I think we should talk about a few things, Y/N.”

“Bucky, are you a gangster?” You looked him straight in the eyes.

“Something like that…” He tried to avert your gaze. “What gave me away?”

“The way you carry yourself, and the gun hidden under your jacket,” you smirked. “I know it was a gun I felt when we first hugged.”

“Does this change things between us?”

“No,” hiding your face in his chest you sighed. “I don’t care about your profession, Bucky. From the first moment on, you cared for me.”

“So…can we still have this date now?”

“We will have one hell of a date, Mr. Barnes…”

Tags in reblog.

[ibelievewhatyousaid]

The Sinner’s assigned Abnormalities in L. Corp are very intriguing to me, as not being a general “resonance,” that Limbus uses with its current day Ego. But! They were assigned that for a given reason, even if only on a meta level, so I’d like to put my two cents into it as I love the Lobcorp Abnos so much. These are simplified summaries of the Abnormalities and speculation on how they fit said Sinner.

Faust - Forsaken Murderer

I do not believe she has an Ego Gift adored to her except the one for this Abno, so we can focus in on this purely; all being of Forsaken Murderer. (On this note, although I am not talking about the realization Ruina Egos, Meursault has Ego for this Abno as well) Forsaken Murderer in his original logs was said to have been a murderer in federal prison to have been sentenced to death. Before that could take place, a bunch of researchers decided to experiment on him. They wanted to prove an innate “evil,” existed and on a further level, they wanted to “cure,” him, although unclear what it really was they wanted to cure. Their experiments twisted out all of his penitence for violence, turning him docile, until he came to this belief of ringing in his head, that his head itself had became metal, leading to self harm against himself. Eventually a fatal accident happens, the researchers jump the ship and decide to simply dissect his brain, until the end he muttered, “ends, begins, ends, begins, end.”

NOW, this is hard to shape into Faust’s story, given how little we know about her on a deeper level, but, I think there’s already (shallow-ish) connections we can make. Faust has a lot of implications of science experiment (Child in a Flask, Telepole) whether we take this ‘literally,’ it’s safe to say either way Faustcord keeps her on a tight leash as being an “experiment” of a Faust who is willing to take a gamble. A lot of Forsaken Murderer focuses on the fact he is chained and tied up but “free as any other man,” we could take this as Faust’s expectation of being a skilled scientist and genius who is bound by those around her, to fulfill that role, yet “free,” at the sake of being all knowing. Faust is “omnipresent,” yet she is just another in a chain of command. In TKT she mentions to Vergilius that both of them “know their place,” despite how great she is, how “free,” of knowing she is, she is just another chain, in both the City and Dante’s contract to the sinners. We can also go deeper with this concept of “inevitably,” of the city, given to her by a predestined plan of fates, in every mirror world, how it all will end has already been put into motion. To know of how tied you are to fate surely must be a token of freedom as well, can’t it? He also seems to have a bit of an ego, a Ruina line of his being, “Don’t look at me with those eyes. You’re the most pitiful one here.” Which, fits Faust’s need to be above others, such as “Faust is brilliant, smart, Yi Sang is a genius.” An implication that Yi Sang had a cap on how brilliant he can be, something he must’ve lucked into, Faust was born to be great. Even if she is regrettably pitiful in every other aspect. An inability to connect to others or form meaningful attachments, this especially rears its head in events were her intelligence creates gaps between her and others, all of MotWE or Dante’s brush off of her in Canto 6 when she cannot given them an answer, or, even earlier, Sinclair accusing Faust and Limbus using the Sinners as compasses to boughs. In all situations it leaves her isolated and awkward, unable to answer, creating a larger, pitiful wedge between her and others, despite how great she is. She is still a thing to be “studied,” whether from an actual scientist or to other versions of her, or those around her, she is a spectacle.

Outis - Der Freishütz / Bloodbath

The story of Der Freischütz in Lobcorp was of a marksman making a deal with the devil, the devil proposed that the gun could shoot anyone, on the last bullet it would pierce the person the marksman loved, in return, the devil would gain the marksman soul in hell. The marksman thus went through all his bullets, killing off all his loved ones. The marksman traveled, simply doing good and bad deeds in impulse, no sign of an actual moral code. Eventually, he realized that the devil had long since stopped following him. He realizes that the contract had long been fulfilled, since the very beginning of him giving up his loved ones, did he fall to hell. And so, now a devil as well, the marksman continued to shoot anyone he wanted, forever.

Again, another sinner we’re left out in the cold for. But, to tap into Outis’ source, The Odyssey, the story follows Odysseus’ desperation to finally reach home, to his family. As the stories play out the more Odysseus gives up his morals. To sacrificing his men to no mercy, a king who was once gentle and kind, gives up all people around him to succeed in arriving home. Of course, from the start, Odysseus had given up his family, a mother who died alone, a wife left waiting for over a decade, a son who had never known him. Odysseus also makes many deals with Gods around him, something he pays greatly later for. Of course, none of this is a one for one, but I think it is to mimic Odysseus, or here, Outis’ slower decent into someone who hurts those who she loves (or should’ve) by her cruelty, once Odysseus had set off to war was the moment he was bound to lose everything. Which, is very similar to how Der Freishütz is, he had lost his humanity the moment he made the deal.

Bloodbath is a Abno based overtly on Carmen, but, to ease it into a more general baseless story, the Abnormality represents: “the pain of all those who couldn’t take their sorrow in stride.” A huge focus on Bloodbath is the guilt of love, of unable to achieve success, using “scars” as marks of failure. The bath mocks the person peering in with hands reaching out desperately, as if begging to be saved, or joined, in this misery. It’s a sign of endless despair, unable to ever reach the climax of this, the only outcome is to accept this wave of despair and let yourself accept it.

So, arguably this fits Outis really well just on the bases of the line: “Many hands float in the bath. They are the hands of the people I once loved.” This once again, is more of a line of thinking born from her source, but a lot of Odysseus’ guilt is haunting to him, specifically that of Penelope, but overall, he gives up many men, including people very close to him, to never truly “succeed,” I feel like this one is easier to connect to, given what I said of the previous Abno to Outis, so.

Don Quixote - Meat Lantern / Void Dream / Fragment of the Universe

Meat Lantern is quite.. obtuse, in its logs, both in Lobcorp and LoR most is left obscure. Which is terribly fitting. Meat Lantern, by your guess, is obviously not a tiny little flower. The logs say that it is gigantic, underneath the entire facility, always waiting, it lures people in, in L. Corp’s lens, it lures in employees by being a lantern, something shiny, full of hope, they haven’t seen stuck underground for so long. Any nature, any lights, something that wasn’t horrific or artificial has long since been lost to everyone there. It’s easy to feel it calling to them, to reach out, to touch, but it’s all a ploy to devour and eat whoever trusts it.

So, Donqui’s Abnos are actually what made me originally want to write about them. I had written out my analysis of hers a few months before, but it was too hinged on my own reading of her that it felt easy to write off as me sounding insane. But! With the reveal of MotWE.. this seems, pretty obvious. (Glad to know I’m not too crazy) Don Quixote wears a mask, one of “hope” something born from really just being .. silly, of something rare in the City. Someone who genuinely believes in good? In hope? Here? As “Don Quixote” stands as an ideal, a concept, “too good to be true.” and beneath that is a “reality,” no one’s has “really ever seen.” (as the log says about the “real body” of Meat Lantern) and then “devours” people. Yeah. I bet.

Void Dream’s logs follow someone who has Void Dream eat all their nightmares, giving them the best dream they could have imagined, the person they love had returned, even working in such a horrible company that is L. Corp was good. Everything was so, so amazing, a perfect ideal world for the dreamer. When waking up, the person was crushed by reality, when forced to confront the truth they became despaired. They tried to find those dreams again, in an obsession, but, they never did come back. The employee comes to the realization that Void Dream’s deal was too good to be true, that from the start, the Abno had set them up. And they had lost, unable to enjoy either sides of reality or dreams, they find their way back to Void Dream and beg them to eat all their dreams. Stealing away all their dreams, nightmares, hopes and despairs, virtually leaving them empty. When Void Dream is accused of leading people on, it brushes off the person, insisting it just wishes the best for others. The line, “a demon must change its shape to deceive others.”

Originally, I had read this purely as Don Quixote being put into the victim’s prospective, someone who “wakes up” from a perfect dream to be crushed by reality. And, I don’t actually disagree, I think this still 100% fits. But I think her fitting “as” the Abnormality makes perfect sense, too. Obviously, the whole “deceiving others,” line fits. To change one’s shape, a “demon” a Bloodfiend, to deceive others into seeing it as innocent, pure, true to the ideals it preaches. But, and this is a bit speculation on what we know very little of, “Don Quixote,” was given, or is a dream herself that a Bloodfiend wishes to dream, that Bloodfiend must’ve spun this tale, this “perfect” dream is an “act of kindness,” despite not being kind at all. Despite giving out this dream, not only to herself, but to others around her, does it lead to destruction and a harsher fall to reality itself.

Fragment of the Universe.. actually isn’t an Abnormality. At least, not traditionally, if the logs are true. The log mentions how it let itself be caught and studied, and through studying they declared it “intelligent enough” to communicate via language, thus, it learned more and more of humans and humanity. It became endeared and loved people. It reflected what it saw, leading to it looking like a kid’s drawings of hearts. When asked why it had came to interact with humans, it said it wanted to spread messages. One being its song, a song of the universe that drove people crazy, but also let them “finally see the stars,” and also to inform everyone that “there are no coincidences in the universe.”

FotU is really intertwined to its love of humanity, even its design is rooted in this love for the species. Its aim to spread its song is to “relieve” people, as well, even if misguided or unable to be understood. I think Don Quixote, as a concept, is so terribly human. She’s overly emotional, she’s quick to action, strong morals, she’s clumsy and brave and fearful and determined. She is so very human that it backfires. Given Cassetti’s lines, “we are so, so hideous behind the mask.” and his dedication as well as other Bloodfiends to “run” from being monsters and Elena’s lines of her wondering if she was desperate enough to “chase after being an ordinary human again.” I think the Bloodfiend behind Don Quixote genuinely loves humans, and, most likely, wants to “be” one. And “reflects” what she sees, which is a habit Donqui has, mirroring Merusault in TKT, or wishing to “copy” other sinners from Outis’ wristwatch. Donqui also has a huge tie to stars, so, so many of her IDs have her mentioning them, not to mention her tagline. I think an Abno who knows far more than it lets on, powerful, letting itself into humanity, coming to love them, but never being one, is dreadfully fitting.

Yi Sang - Funeral of the Dead Butterflies

FotDB is an Abnormality born from the pain and suffering of.. Lobotomy Corporation, actually! It’s a mourner who is rumored to wandering the halls of the facility with a coffin for those who are bound to be lost, an early mourning for those who are destined to die, and an incomplete sorrow for those already gone, the coffin too small to fit them all, unable to fall asleep or escape. The ending of the log decides that there is no escape, these butterflies are damned to wait, because there “must be an end to every world.”

I think, just like with Gregor’s case, although the original Abnormality is directly tied to L. Corp, in a more general definition, it is about the pain and sorrow of those inevitable deaths born from things such as K corp, or the Smoke War. Cases of people’s lives being thrown away and devalued, not given proper burials, no home to escape to, a fate to dying here, leaving the mourning to the others in the same situation who simply “lucked out.” In Yi Sang’s case, an “ending for every world,” feels very deliberate to the “world,” in which he was locked up in a cage, passively awaiting the days for it to end, one way or another, only to realize he was able to walk out, that the door was never locked. Yi Sang’s grief and attachment to the League of Nine, the only person who seems to grieve over those loses, alone, carrying that pain wherever he goes. In that sense, “an ending to every world,” could also be turned into a guaranteed ending of things he loved as well. There is more to be said, but this one seems very obvious.

Ryōshū - Spider Bud / One sin and Hundreds of Good Deeds / Scorched Girl / Bloodbath / Big and Will be Bad Wolf

(Oh my God girl. Do you need that many???)

Spider Bud is an Abno that is deeply protective of her babies, quite literally her alternative name being “brood mother,” she reacts negatively and violent if an Agent hurts or steps on her children

Ryōshū has gotten this Abno thrice now. It’s gotta be important, and yeah, it is! This is born purely from her Source, but Yoshihide’s tragedy is losing his daughter, Spider Bud’s entire gimmick is being peaceful (as an Abno can be) unless someone hurts her children, she stalks and watches and exacts revenge against those people. I didn’t want to bring in Uptie stories, but Ryōshū’s uncharacteristic gentleness to the spiderlings who nip at her is really.. striking. Once again, this one feels kind of.. duh, so I won’t go much deeper into it.

One Sin is an Abnormality with the purpose of being confessed to, to relieve one of their sins, it’s tied to religion to Hell’s screen gimmick of.. Hell.. feels, yes, but I feel as though this is more general and disingenuous from One Sin’s connection to Christianity while Hell’s screen is about Buddhism’s hell. Instead this felt more interlined to Parallel Gebura. A lot of people have jumped on this for power scaling fun, but! I think it’s important to realize why Carmen would’ve said “At least similar in this regard,” my take is that a huge aspect of Gebura’s woes in Lobcorp was her unable to protect those she loved. Given Yoshihide’s tragedy here, unable to protect his daughter. I think that is the aim that makes the most sense right now with how very little we have about Ryōshū.

Scorched Girl is another Abnormality she’s already gotten, all in all, SG lives on a sense of angered revenge and self destruction. Her logs depict her to be torn in two from her desire of affection to one of wishing harm on others.

Her attempt at hurting others involves hurting herself, which lines up with Yoshihide’s ending, of his natural self destructiveness, how he makes his art and his death. Her rage also lines up with Ryōshū’s, a want to have back warmth, love she’s lost, but only able to be a match of destruction.

Bloodbath, we already covered this in Outis’ section! I think Outis and Ryōshū naturally align similarly, (Hong Lu, Mr. “Horrific family” isn’t ever the one getting cold or aloof to mentions of family or parents or children, it’s only ever these two!) A guilt of unable to succeed despite how much you gave up and sacrificed, including others And to lose those you love, the hands in the water being everyone you’ve ever loved, by your own faults.

Finally, Big and Will be Bad Wolf! The Abnormality is about being set up from birth being one way. From the way society sees you, you will always be what they depict you as. The Abnormality doesn’t feel remorse over the violence it causes, because it was “inevitable” he’d turn out this way. Who is he to blame nature? Regardless of nurture.

This one is the most hard to really fit without going “well, just a hunch.” I think this could be in regards to Yoshihide’s further and further acts of violence and pain to others around him, but unable to feel that remorse (until it is too late) because he was born with this way. He was “born” an “artist.” Who is he to defy things sacrificed for art? He is unable to be anything but cruel and vindictive, and he doesn’t try to be.

Well, that’s everything I could remember off the top of my head! Apologies if it starts to get a little weaker by the end, I’ve been typing for hours. In general, there’s more I could say or conclude, but, because of how loose Abnos are in concept, as well as how most of these Sinners (everyone but Yi Sang…) haven’t had their cantos yet, it leaves a lot of assumptions built upon their sources and short behavior ticks we’ve seen them display. I won’t say these are confirmed or sure fire takes but more so a jumping off point in fathoming these choices.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 32

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Well, this escalated in a way I didn't plan.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Mr. Laufeyson’s voice is a low drone. You can hear his curt tone as he comes through the front door. His slither is met by a booming timbre that makes you jump. Thor speaks loudly, enough for some of his words to thunder through the walls that divide you.

Your ears pulse as you try not to listen. You know you shouldn’t. By Laufeyson’s reaction alone, you know his brother is less than welcome. Thor’s presence brings you little peace yourself as the memory of his creeping touch crawls up your spine.

You sit behind the laptop and try to focus on the screen. If you can distract yourself, it will be over soon enough and Thor will be gone. Maybe then, you can figure out why Mr. Laufeyson has turned to ice.

“...is she?” The two words echo and jar you from your failing battle.

Laufeyson’s response is short and sharp. You fill in the blanks of his deflection; ‘none of your concern’.

“...busy cleaning up your messes, eh?” Thor’s taunting question rolls upwards as footsteps hammer up the stairs, stopped halfway as another pair shuffle after them.

“I did not welcome you in,” Laufeyson is clearer now. You assume they are on the staircase with how their voices waft airily.

“Always the gracious host,” Thor counters.

“Do not lecture me on grace. Say what you’ve come to say and go. I’m busy–”

“Oh, yes, if I had a little maid like that, I’d always be busy as well–”

“Get on with it,” Laufeyson snarls.

Thor laughs heartily, “brother, one day you will see we are more alike than you care to accept. Maybe then you would see that it is the crux of our problems. You might even appreciate our shared tastes–”

“If you’ve only come to ramble, I’m not interested. I’ve spent enough time entertaining you lot–”

“You speak as if we are enemies,” Thor accuses, “you cannot waste time on family.”

“Ah, because kinship has always been sacred in your heart,” Laufeyson scoffs, “you are like a storm, you bluster but only make a mess. Say what you came to say and leave me be. I’ve work to do. Real work.”

“Well, if I am to deliver my message, I think both recipients should receive it, don’t you?”

“Say it,” Laufeyson hisses.

“But it is meant for both of you. The little maid as well–”

You sit up straight and tweak your head. You shouldn’t listen but you’re caught now. You cannot keep from overhearing.

“House manager,” Laufeyson girds, “I’m certain I can efficiently communicate whatever nonsense has drawn you here.”

“And they say I am stubborn,” Thor snorts, “Walpurgisnacht.”

“Walpurgisnacht?” Laufeyson echoes the single word.

“Surely you recall the old ways.”

“Don’t,” Laufeyson warns.

“Mother is having a celebration. Like when we were young. Father’s agreed to it.”

“She didn’t mention.”

“Ah, yes, well, you’ve much going on. She sent me to inquire after the little maid– house manager. She would require help with arranging the festivities.” Thor explains, “oh, and you’re invited too, I suppose.”

“She has her staff, does she not?”

“Frida is too old. She only serves tea and Gertrude’s never been very strong-minded. Mother needs input, not an empty vessel.”

“Charming,” Laufeyson remarks, "well, I will consider it. Next time, tell mother to call.”

“There will be many old faces. Many may even be happy to see you,” Thor goads.

“I wouldn’t expect so,” Laufeyson retorts, “must I ask you to leave anon?”

Another rolling guffaw fills the house. You hear a grunt from Laufeyson and a muted thump. Thor quiets with a sigh, “ah, fine, fine, I shall leave you to your little– house manager. You will tell her I say hello.”

Silence roils through the air. A scuff cuts through the tension and footfalls clamour down the stairs. The front door opens and closes, leaving you to wallow in the dark cloud left behind. Mr. Laufeyson’s long exhale blows up the staircase ahead of him and you listen to his approach.

You look at the door, expecting him to come through any moment. But it isn’t that one he opens. It’s the study door that slams with a terrible force. His growl permeates through and the adjoined door clicks as the lock is flicked into place. You stare at it and frown.

You don’t suppose his mood will thaw any time soon.

✨

Mr. Laufeyson does not emerge for supper. You barely eat anything yourself as anxiety tortures your stomach. You clean up after yourself and retreat upstairs. 

You near the study, lingering before the door as you pluck up your courage. You tap softly on the wood. There’s no answer. You didn’t hear him go but maybe you missed it.

“I made dinner, Mr. Laufeyson. I’ve left you a plate in the oven,” you speak through the wood, to the ghost on the other side.

You traipse away in defeat. You’re entirely confused. What did you do so wrong? Even before his brother’s unprompted visit, Mr. Laufeyson was coolly apathetic. Yet that morning, in the shower, he’d been on fire, consuming you like flames.

Maybe you’re not good enough. Maybe you didn’t kiss him just right or make the noises he liked. Oh, but how are you supposed to know what to do?

You sit at the writing desk and tap your fingers on your chin. You squirm in your chair as the scene in the shower replays in your head. You tear it apart, trying to pick out the exact moment of your offense.

You shift on the seat and the throbbing pressure in your core ripples through you. Just the thought of his touch has you alight. You touch your hot cheeks and flutter your lashes. You shouldn’t be worried about all that, you should be working on that spread sheet.

You glance over at the study door. The house is stagnant once more. Just like those early days when you made your slow progress with a broom and mop. Something’s gone terribly wrong. Maybe… you should just leave.

You put your fingers mindlessly to the touch pad of the computer. You swirl around the cursor mindlessly. You blow out through your lips and sit up, another fraught peek towards the door.

You bring both your hands over the keyboard. No, you shouldn’t. 

You need to figure this out. You need to know what you did, or didn’t do. You can be what he wants you to be, you have to. You have nothing else.

You type, then backspace, then type again. After several times, you hit search. You click through to a site with a black background and gasp at the obscene ads that fill the margins. 

You bite down as you try to focus past the small thumbnails. You key into the search bar ‘shower’. You hover your finger over the enter key before you will yourself to hit it.

The search results are just as chaotic. You don’t know what you’re looking for. ‘Best Shower Scenes STEAMY’. Your insides tickle and you squeeze your thighs together. Invisible flames lick at you and cluster in your chest.

You mute the computer as the video loads. The house is so quiet that you’re aware of every creak and crack. You fidget as you sit through the ad of a woman giggling over a URL for meet-ups. You press your hands to your thigh, sitting forward so your weight rests on your pelvis, dampening the tingly heat.

The video begins. A woman with caramel coloured hair and a curvy body. You admire her figure and peer down at your own. Maybe that’s it, maybe you’re not hot enough? You remember how Mr. Laufeyson touched you all over, almost as if he was examining you. Did you disappoint?

You flick your eyes back up as a man enters and they step into the shower booth. You chew your lip as you fixate on his large dick. He’s very big but you think Mr. Laufeyson is too. You’re not sure. This isn’t helping, you still don’t understand anything.

They kiss and fondle each other. You lean forward, watching with a stitch between your brows. The woman drags her hands down the man’s body and gets to your knees. She pumps him with her hand and licks his tip, dragging her tongue down his length. He grabs her head and forces himself into her mouth.

She takes him greedily. Oh. That could be it. Last night, you were so afraid, and you got all teary, and you didn’t know what you were doing. 

You watch her as she touches his sack, squeezing then works her hand in tandem with her mouth on his dick. You put your hand to the side of your neck and hold your breath. You wiggle on the chair, the friction making your own arousal more obvious.

Finally, the woman stands, the man lifting her by her hair. He spins her and bends her forward. She braces the wall and as he slaps her ass several times before gripping her hip. He’s so rough. You don’t know if you could handle that.

He slides into her and your mouth falls open. Her thighs quake and your own give a tremble. Your walls clench as the pressure knots in you. The thought of doing that with Mr. Laufeyson both frightens you and excites you.

You twiddle your fingers and blink at the screen. The furrow in your forehead deepens as you lean forward. You put your fingers along the touchpad but don’t press them down.

“Ahem,” Mr. Laufeyson startles you as he clears his throat.

You sit up and quickly hit the X in the corner. Your throat closes as you struggle to breathe, caught but not entirely. He stands in the doorway between the study and library. From that angle, he can’t see what’s on your screen.

“You are working hard,” he muses as he strides in with crossed arms.

“Yes, sir,” you answer breathily. You stare him in the face, too afraid to look anywhere else as your mind dares to imagine the shower again, both of you naked, this time, you’re bent over and he’s behind you. “Um, did you get your dinner?”

You close the laptop as you stand. You wince as the fabric of your panties clings to your wet cunt. You feel like he can see right through you.

“I’m not hungry,” he stops on the other side of the desk.

“Okay,” you swallow and your eyes flit side to side.

“I never told you to come out,” he drops his arms, placing his hand on the desk as he leans over it.

“Pardon?” You blink furiously.

“I said to remain in here until I told you it was safe. If you made my dinner, then you did not obey me.”

“I… Mr. Laufeyson, your brother’s gone–”

“And how could you know for sure if I did not confirm it?” He challenges with a wry tilt in his head. “I’ve been patient, pet, but I think you may require a different sort of discipline.”

“Mr. Laufeyson?” You babble, “I’m sorry–”

“Your apologies grow tiresome,” he huffs and stands straight. “Come here,” he points between him and the desk.

You put your head down and swiftly walk around the desk. He swirls his finger in the air and you turn your back to him. He backs away and rounds to the side of the desk.

“Hands down,” he nods to the desktop.

You press your palms flat, bent slightly at the waist. He considers you and strokes his chin with a hum. He circles the desk and you in a single, patient lap.

“Stay as you are.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you utter.

“Ah, no talking,” he warns, “remember your rules, pet.”

You gulp as he turns and struts away. Is it okay again? You can’t tell. He’s still rigid and painfully formal. He hasn’t touched you, he seems to be avoiding getting close. You stare at the wood beneath your hands and shiver.

You hear him in his study. You glance over as he appears in the door frame, his hands hidden behind him. He tuts. “Head forward.”

You look ahead and focus on the wall. He nears, his shadow skewed in the lamplight. He stands behind you, a foot away and he hums. He clucks and strolls around the desk to face you.

He pulls his hands from behind his back, revealing a thick leather strap. The brown leather is faded and cracked. Your eyes round as you stare at it and he brings it taught between his hands.

“Flogging is historically a long held practice. For the monk in his self-flagellation, for the heathen in his cell, and… for the woman in her disobedience,” he explains as his lips curl. “Spare the rod, spoil the child…” He takes a breath, “and you, pet, are growing spoiled.”

Your lips part but you don’t speak. You must follow the rules. This is the test. If you fail this, then it’s over. If you fail, you have nothing.

He walks along the desk and rounds the corner, brushing by as he purrs, “remember your rules. Not a sound.”

He comes up behind you and you hold your breath. He tugs at the back of your skirt and shudders. He pulls the fabric above your ass, his hand trailing along the back of your panties. He hooks his finger in the elastic and tears them down to your thighs. You quiver and clench your jaw tight, fighting back a squeak.

He stretches the leather across your ass. It’s cool and smooth. You twitch as bumps rise across your skin. He pulls back and you lower your head. You wait. Nothing. 

You cautiously raise your chin and look back. He snaps the whip across your ass as you do and you spasm with the hot flash of pain. He points to the wall in a wordless demand. Eye forward. You turn your attention back to the grey blue paint as your eyes glisten. He strikes you again, the agony scalding across the swell of your ass.

Your thighs shake as he pulls back again. You await a third but it never comes. You don’t dare move. He paces behind you. You watch his shadow cast before you and he moves abruptly forward. You bite your tongue as he lashes you again. Harder as he lets out a thick grunt.

Your hands slip and you fall forward. You plant your palms more firmly as you push yourself straight. A fourth comes and sends tendrils down to your toes. You hiss through your teeth, quaking, fighting not to collapse.

You deserve this. Whatever you’ve done, you’ve earned this. 

A fifth and your knees knock together. You barely keep afoot as the sixth lands with extra bite. Seven, eight, nine… He lashes you in quick succession, as if he cannot stop himself. The tenth has you heaving, about to vomit with the pain.

He stops himself, his shadow holding up the stap. He lowers it and steps back. He sighs and turns away.

“Tomorrow you will pack for our departure,” he declares, “we leave on Friday.”

We? So you are to go with him. You don’t dare ask or say a single word. You stay as you are, shaking as you roll your eyes back against the flood.

“You will be on your best behaviour,” he warns as he nears the study door, “I trust this lesson will not be forgotten.”

He passes into the study and the door closes harshly. Your legs fold and collapse beneath you. You land in a heap, holding yourself off your ass as you whimper. You won’t ever forget.

[mykoreanlove]

sexy brain wasn’t having it

3.25 am.

Once again Namjoon lay awake at night, anticipating the next disaster. His thoughts were racing, fueling the anxiety that was rooted deep in his heart.

„Joon“, you mumbled sleepily as you twisted in his arms.

You calling him caught him by surprise, a welcomed yet unnecessary surprise.

„Why are you awake, love?“, he whispered in his deep raspy voice.

You chuckled as you patted his buff chest. „Well Sherlock, my precious darling is awake so I can’t sleep either.“

Namjoon smiled widely as he placed a sweet kiss on your forehead.

„Sorry.“

„Is something on your mind?“

He sighed, not really knowing how to articulate his thoughts.

„Do you remember when I told you about my ex? The one that cheated on me?“

You nodded silently.

„Do you also remember the girl that shot daggers at you when I took you out to dinner two days ago?“

„The one with the crazy eyes?“

A sad laugh escaped his lips. „Yeah. Actually, same person.“

„No way“, you gasped, suddenly fully awake. „Why didn’t you tell me?“

„Honestly? She did some crazy things back then so I just wanted to forget her. I don’t want you to be near her. Ever.“

You tightened your grip around your boyfriend, deeply touched by his concern for you.

„You really care about me, huh?“

„Slightly“, he bickered back, making the both of you laugh.

„Are you afraid that she’s gonna do something to us?“

Namjoon closed his eyes and sighed deeply. „I expect her to.“

You drew circles on his chest, hoping this would make him calm down and drift off to sleep. It seemed like it worked, until it didn’t.

Frantic sounds alerted you both, someone was ringing the bell like crazy.

„Namjoon. Namjoon!! Open up, please.“

Her whines were slurred and chaotic. You felt him tense under your touch, unsure what to do.

„Just ignore her, Joonie. I’m sure she’s gonna leave in a minute.“

„Joon!! God damn it, Joon!!! Open the fucking door!“

Namjoon debated if he should get up, but he also feared hurting you. Suddenly, the door flung open revealing a very bad tempered Jungkook.

„Hyung, please. Go talk to her. I can’t sleep and I can’t keep listening to her begging for you. I beg you talk to that lunatic.“

You squeezed Namjoon‘s hand, encouraging him to go.

„I love you“, he whispered in your ear.

„I know“, you stuck out your tongue.

„Namjoon, fucking rap monster open this door no-„

Namjoon‘s ex swallowed her tongue as she actually succeeded with her plan - her ex was standing before her, ready to listen to her tantrum.

„Joon“, she tried hugging him but he pushed her away.

„You know what time it is?“

She nodded her head, slightly ashamed. „Joon, I am sorry but I need to talk to you. Breaking up was the worst idea we ever had.“

He rolled his eyes at her, trying to stay calm.

„Cheating on me was even dumber if you ask me.“

„I never“, she tried to defend herself but bit her tongue as she saw the hurt in his eyes.

„I’m sorry. What I did was wrong. It’s just, I couldn’t handle our love back then. You’re such a grown up and I.. I am a mess.“

Flashbacks of all the tantrums she created flashed his mind. She always argued with him, accusing him of the most disrespectful shit. Looking back he could simply laugh about this, wondering how the hell he kept up with her frantics for so long. He didn’t care about the past, nor her anymore. He only cared about you.

„I call you a cab“, he stated sternly.

„NO!“

Namjoon sighed in annoyance.

„What do you want from me? Why are you here? Do you honestly think I’d take you back? After all you put me through?“

„Why not? Because of that bitch?“, she spat out.

His nostrils flared up instantly. Namjoon would never resolve a conflict with violence, especially not with a female. He’d rather contort to hurting one emotionally.

„I don’t want you to talk about my girlfriend like that. Ever again. Understood?“

„That should be me! I’m supposed to be your girl, Joon. Don’t you remember how great we were?“

„Nah“, he replied dryly.

His ex scoffed, too many blows to her ego. „Oh please, I’ve seen her. Since when do you date someone so basic? She’s half of me anyways.“

Namjoon took out his phone and ordered a cab, making an end to this nonsense.

„What are you doing? Joon, listen to me! She’s not the one for you, can’t you see?“

He raised his left brow, holding back what he truly felt.

„She’s average. Basic. Boring. I think you should dump her. I think you should get back together with me. I think you and I should become Korea‘s hottest couple and live a beautiful life together. I think I am the love of your life!“

A real, heartfelt laugh left his lips. His ex‘ eyes widened in expectation, anticipating her victory over you.

Namjoon however disagreed.

„Thank you for telling me what you think. I however, don’t think about you. At all.“

He turned around and went inside, hoping to never end up in a situation like that ever again.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for getting a girlfriend

We’re all 15-17 in this, so if this seems petty I get it. I’m a lesbian, I’ve always been more extroverted and I have an introverted friend group. I would play flirt and help them gain confidence (compliment their talent and hobbies, call them beautiful when trying on clothing they were afraid to wear.) it was always my job to make the plans outside of school. This all change when I started dating my gf. My gf wasn’t really out like I was. She was more popular, she’s a cheerleader and no one really knew she was a lesbian. We started talking because we had a gym class together. On week nights we started hanging out and one thing lead to another. We kept the relationship secret for awhile because she didn’t know how she felt about being out and I understood.

During this time period I started hanging out with her and her friends. I divided my lunch with my friend group and hers. I stopped flirting with my friends and they said I was acting different, but I would just say I wanna focus on my romantic love life. My friend group was sure they us 8 were the only lgbtia+ group at our school. I was like there’s probably more people we just don’t know. My group of friends would make fun of my gf to me, and I would ask what has she ever done wrong. They would just tell me “she just seems like she’s up her own ass” I would always say we’re friends and she’s nice. My gf later came out and her parents took it well as did her friends and let everyone know we were dating.

It was like a weight lifted off my shoulders. We are out, we post pictures together, and I honestly love hanging out with her and her friends. They make me feel included. I’m no longer the one in charge of making sure we all hang out. I felt like we had all seen each other and take care of each other. They would compliment me first and notice things about me. I felt seen In so many ways. They remembered my fast food orders, my gf and her friends. I know her friend group was considered “normies” but I felt so loved.

Anyway a few weeks ago two of my friends were saying I was abandoning them for “my hot new girlfriend whose probably faking for attention” this set me off because they never gave her a chance. I’d offer to have them all hangout but they would always pull “new people make me nervous”. When I went to lunch I said of course I dedicate time to spending it with my gf, but you guys never meet me half way. I was just accused of wanting to hangout with popular people and leaving them. I asked if anyone in my gf friend group had bullied them had done anything to make them uncomfortable. They asked me if I was blind because one guy always disrupts the class with his loud laughing and dumb comments. Someone else chimed in and said I was being selfish for focusing on the relationship instead of them because we only have each other but my gf has always had it easy making friends.

I just said I was done. If they can’t handle me in a relationship maybe we just need time apart. I told them if they can be normal about me having a gf I’ll reconsider. But now I kinda regret it and I feel like an asshole for leaving my friends for my popular gf

My gf has been very sweet just saying I’m doing what’s best for me and she supports me no matter what. I haven’t told her friends any of this because I don’t wanna say “my friends don’t like you guys” it just spreads unnecessary negativity.

I just feel like an asshole.

What are these acronyms?

[jackwolfes]

prompt #59 with wesper pls 🤲

“Tell me to go and I will but ask me to stay and I'll never leave you again” Prompts: [1] [2]

The scene through Wylan’s bedroom window is lightning and malice, the rapidfire patter of rain gunshots on glass reminding him what little kindness waits for him outside, but right now inside isn’t much better. He stands with his arms at his sides and bare feet uncomfortable against the cold wood floor. The fire in the hearth is low enough to offer little comfort. 

Across the room, dripping rainwater onto Wylan’s expensive bedroom floor, Jesper stands resigned to whatever pain Wylan plans to inflict upon him. That hurts. The accusation of it digs beneath Wylan’s ribs like a burrowing beetle, carving out space between sinew and bone and biting down where it hurts most. It isn’t my fault, he wants to scream, but he’s too cowardly to say anything, not even I’d never hurt you. Not even, I’m sorry. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Wylan finally manages. “If my father found out…” 

Jesper doesn’t interrupt him. It is simply Wylan’s voice failing him, as it has so many times before, because as with every other facet of Wylan’s being, failure is his natural state. He doesn’t know what he’d even say if he could muster up the strength to speak, so perhaps silence is better. 

What would he even say? If his father found out he would, what? Actually disown him like he’d threatened to do days ago when he found him tangled up half naked with a serving boy? Kick him out of this prison he’s forged, the one that Wylan has so rarely been happy in but has always been mostly safe in? Both are plausible options. Wylan has always been a weak little lamb under the blade of father’s butcher knife, kept alive on a whim and little else. He can’t imagine his father going so far as to actually see him killed, but once he’s thrown out of his good graces, what hope would he have to survive? 

Just Jesper, who doesn’t owe Wylan a damn thing.

Jesper. Wylan can hear the echo of his own voice whispering that name a dozen different ways through the seasons. Kindly, reverently, desperately. Never in between the expensive silk sheets of his bed, but in plenty of other places they shouldn’t have been: the stable, most often, but the kitchens, too. Out in the gardens when the weather permitted it, a few times in the library, that once at the inn as they travelled out of town because neither of them had been able to hold back. Those golden slivers of enjoyable memories might be the only time Wylan has ever truly felt happy on his father’s property. Jesper has given him the world time and time again, and all Wylan did was see him get thrown out on the street and fired for taking the time to love him tenderly. 

The floor doesn’t creak when Jesper takes a step forward, which means Wylan’s sharp inhalation is entirely too audible. Over the heavy storm outside and the occasional crackle of firewood, the sound is a vulnerability. An admission. Wylan fights against every urge telling him to damn reason and run to Jesper, to throw himself in his arms and hold him close, and he hates himself for picking the safe option. He hates himself for a lot of reasons, but Jesper still crosses the room under the flickering firelight and comes to a half a bare few inches away. The rain water dripping off his clothes creates a puddle on the floor, seeping towards Wylan’s bare toes, but neither of them move. 

“Tell me to go,” Jesper whispers, “and I will.” 

Wylan shuts his eyes. He should, he should, he should, he isn’t strong enough to form the words between his lips. He simply cannot resist the magnetic pull of Jesper Fahey and all his charm, all his divinity, all his — perfection. Even with his eyes shut he can sense that Jesper is close, and maybe getting closer. His body stays deathly still, torn between wanting to jerk away back to where it’s safe or leaning into Jesper’s touch, where it’s safest. 

“If you ask me to stay, I will. I’ll never leave you again.”

The husky edge to Jesper’s whispering voice floods Wylan’s senses, in past his lips like cherries and chocolate, down his throat, around his wrists, in his head. His eyelashes open with a flutter; he parts his lips. Steel eyes stare at him like he is precious, worth keeping around, and Wylan was never going to survive without him in his life. 

He surges up to kiss Jesper fiercely, grabbing the back of his head to hold him close. The chill of rainwater caught in the tight coils of his hair press into Wylan’s fingertips like holy water sanctifying his skin. Wylan feels everything. Jesper’s hands on his hips, turning the thin fabric translucent with water and imprinting the shape of his palms into Wylan’s body. In a moment Wylan will stretch upwards to deepen the kiss and his shirt will peel away from his skin — maybe even sooner if Jesper chooses to be so bold as to pull it off for him — but the mark feels unerringly permanent. It is a brand on skin, but instead of pain it brings with it liberation. 

Wylan steps backwards, still clinging to Jesper with desperate hands. The clumsy gesture makes them both stumble but their lips don’t stray apart, which is more than what Wylan needs. Lightning cracks, blindingly bright against the dark night sky, and the thunder chasing its heels provides cover for the quiet little moan that slips between Wylan’s parted lips. He can barely hear it himself over the roaring rush of blood in his ears, the slam of his heartbeat thudding in his head, the dizzying slide of Jesper’s tongue along the backs of Wylan’s teeth as he plunders for gold. This is his one chance at pure secrecy, and it feels magical. 

The back of his legs hit his mattress sooner than he realises, the impact juddering through his body and shooting surprise through his frame. Unbalanced, he tumbles backwards and hits the soft mattress with a thwump of silky fabric, but Jesper catches himself before he can fall. 

It instantly pushes too much distance between them. Unceremoniously, Wylan is jerked free from the dizzying bliss he’d been feeling a second ago. The chill in the air takes its place, reminding him how cold he is without Jesper near him. Splayed out on the mattress with Jesper standing above him like that and framed by the lines of his spread thighs, he shivers. But the furrow in Jesper’s brow is enough to make Wylan nervous. His fingers twitch, lying on the mattress beside his head with his palms facing the sky expectantly. Jesper’s eyes flicker to the side and catch the motion. He says nothing, and Wylan sees want warring with apprehension in the metallic shine of his eyes.

And maybe Wylan is a coward, but Jesper isn’t. Jesper is one of the bravest people he’s ever met. They’re barely touching anymore, but the tiny point of contact between Wylan’s knee and Jesper’s shin is just enough to lend him strength. 

“Stay,” Wylan croaks. 

Sunshine blooms. The eye of the storm hits them like midsummer. Life erupts in Jesper’s eyes as he smiles that real, earnest, perfect smile, and he says, “Don’t want to ruin your bed getting it wet, do I?” As if he hadn’t made a million messes before with Wylan a beautiful, willing casualty. So Wylan laughs, breathless and giddy, and spreads his legs apart a little wider as he enjoys the show that Jesper puts on, haphazardly and clumsily stripping out of his rain-soaked clothes. They hit the ground with an ungraceful slap, and when Jesper clambers naked onto the bed (and onto Wylan) he’s barely even dry. He’s hard, though, and oh so pretty, and before Wylan can reach out to grab hold of him and start to give him the pleasure he deserves he’s taking hold of Wylan’s wrists and pinning him down onto the bed. Wylan jerks, spine arching with a breathless little moan, but Jesper kisses him and does not leave — he said he wouldn’t, and Wylan trusts that he means to keep his promise.

[massivedrickhead]

I got 2 comments requesting a follow-up from my last prompt, and so I thought I'd take a break from the worried/concerned prompts and write something a bit lighter and cheesier.

For those asking to read about Beca and Chloe's date, here you go!

Part 1

Read on AO3

-

It took almost a month for Chloe to be settled enough to finally take Beca up on her offer for a date.

Chloe had called Chicago the day after she and Beca had confessed their feelings to break up with him, and he spent the next few weeks blowing up her phone.

He veered from being furious with her, accusing her of cheating and demanding he tell her who she was sleeping with, to being pleading and apologetic. He promised he would do better, told her he loved her, and then called her a bitch and a slut a minute later.

Eventually, sick of seeing Chloe frowning at her phone, Beca took it off her and blocked him.

“Get him off your socials too,” Beca said, handing the phone back. 

“Thank you,” Chloe replied, exhaling for what felt like the first time in days. “I don’t know why I couldn’t just do that.”

“Because sometimes you’re too nice for your own good, and I bet you were worried about hurting his feelings,” Beca said. 

Chloe laughed and nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “You’re right.”

A week later, Beca was sitting on the sofa, tapping away at her laptop, when Chloe came to join her.

“Have you got plans for Saturday?” Chloe asked, trying to sound casual.

“Uh, no, I don’t think so,” Beca said, not looking up from her laptop and quickly navigating to her calendar to check. “Yeah, free as a bird, why?”

“Um, do you maybe want to go for dinner? With me? Like, as a date?” 

Beca turned her head so fast to look at Chloe that she almost pulled a muscle in her neck.

“Are you serious?” Beca asked. 

“Yeah,” Chloe said, still sounding far more nervous than she needed to. “I’m ready.”

“Hell yes I will come for dinner with you,” Beca said. 

Chloe’s face broke into the biggest smile Beca could ever remember seeing on her. “Awesome!” She said. “I’ll make a reservation.”

“Where are we going?” Beca asked, her own smile mirroring Chloe’s. 

“You’ll see,” Chloe replied. 

It seemed to take a lifetime for Saturday to arrive, but finally, it did, and Chloe spent hours getting ready.

When the time came to leave for the restaurant, Chloe realised that Beca was nowhere to be found in their apartment.

She was already nervous, but a new knot of anxiety quickly formed and settled in her stomach.

“Bec?” She asked, one hand fiddling with the back of an earring as she walked around the empty apartment. 

She picked up her clutch and was just about to pull out her phone when there was a knock at the door.

She quickly crossed the room, her heels click-clacking on the floor as she went, and she looked through the peephole.

Beca was standing outside, a bunch of flowers held in her hands.

Chloe scoffed and pulled the door open.

“Hi,” Beca said, grinning. 

“What are you doing, you weirdo?” Chloe asked, laughing.

“Picking you up for our date,” Beca said. “Here,” she handed over the flowers, “these are for you.”

Chloe’s smile grew as she realised Beca had chosen all her favourites. “You’re setting the bar super high for our first date,” she said, taking them inside. She didn’t have a vase to hand so grabbed a jug and filled it with water. 

“I figured I’d have a better chance of you putting out later if I brought you flowers,” Beca said, smirking and dodging the whack that was aimed at her. “Kidding,” she said, laughing as she caught Chloe’s hand in hers. “I’m kidding.”

“You aren’t wrong thought,” Chloe said with a wink.

“Are you ready to go?” Beca asked, her eyes travelling up and down Chloe’s body. She was trying to be subtle, but she knew that was a lost cause. She was practically drooling. “You look incredible, by the way.”

“So do you,” Chloe replied. “I’m ready, just let me grab my purse.”

Chloe turned to grab it from the counter, and when she turned back around she saw Beca’s eyes shoot back up, a blush creeping slowly across her cheeks. 

Beca cleared her throat and held out her hand for Chloe to take. “I still don’t know where we’re going.”

“All will be revealed,” Chloe said, taking hold of Beca’s hand. “And don’t think I didn’t catch you staring at my ass.”

“I’m only human,” Beca mumbled in response. “I’ve spent the last however many years deliberately not looking at your ass. I’ve got a lot of checking-you-out time to make up for.”

Chloe giggled. “Likewise,” she said.

Chloe’s choice of restaurant was close to their apartment, so they forged a cab and walked hand-in-hand for a few blocks.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Beca couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Of course,” she said. “I should have guessed.”

It was a small Italian place, and it was one of Beca’s favourites. They ate there on their very first night as roommates in the city, and it remained a place they went to celebrate all their special occasions and achievements. 

“This is okay right?” Chloe asked. 

“More than okay, I love this place,” Beca said, as they crossed the street. “Plus, it’s special to us. It’s how we started our life in the city, and now it’s how we start this next chapter. It’s perfect.”

Dinner passed by in a blur of easy conversation, heavy flirting, and a lot of wine. 

Neither wanted to let the other pay, so they split the check and asked for the last of their tiramisu to go.

They were more than a little tipsy when they left hours later and they made the short walk back to the apartment.

“Isn’t this the part where you invite me in for coffee?” Chloe asked, leaning against the door as Beca searched for her keys.

Beca grinned. “Would you like to come in for a coffee?” She asked.

Chloe pretended to think it over.

“I don’t know,” she said. “What will my roommate say if I don’t get home until late?”

“I think your roommate will be cool with it,” Beca said, succeeding in locating her keys and opening the door.

“Let’s hope you’re right,” Chloe said.

Beca held the door open for Chloe to enter, and a second after she had closed it behind her Chloe was pushing her against it, her mouth immediately on hers.

“Okay?” Chloe asked when they broke apart for air.

“More than okay,” Beca said, wasting no time in pulling Chloe back towards her. “I’ve been waiting my whole life to do that.”

“We aren’t moving too fast?”

“Not for me,” Beca said. “If you’re okay with this, so am I.”

“I am definitely okay with this.”

[tiredcatboysinc]

The icing on the cake

Dude, what do you mean I wrote all of this in one day huh wuh =͟͟͞͞(꒪ᗜ꒪‧̣̥̇)

ao3

“Hey, what’s your favorite flavor?” “In what context? .3.”

“Cake.”

“Vanilla :3”

“Okay.”

Those messages had been sent over a week ago by now, and Allan’s question is still plaguing your thoughts. Why did he need your favorite cake flavor..? Nothing was coming up… Your birthday wasn’t until a few more months… Hmm… Augh!! What could this little critter need with your favorite cake flavor???

Well, it was obvious he was planning something. How do you know? Because Allan normally texts you every morning, 8 am sharp. But now, he’s been faltering… Sometimes messaging at 8:05 or even 8:20. Something was up, and you would figure it out one way or another!!

So, first things first… You can’t directly ask Allan, no, no, no!! That’s too direct, and there's no way if he was planning something he’d tell you. No, Allan was cautious… but not cautious enough. You knew he’d have had to have told someone in the office, if not directly then they’d overheard his insane rambling. 

You hum, leaning over the table in the breakroom. Your elbow rested on the hard surface, digging into the material as you thought. Your mouth quirked unevenly, brows furrowing in frustration. Who to ask first…

“Hey, whatcha doin’ man?” Charlie questions as he saunters into the breakroom, looking as nonchalant as ever. Quickly, you shot up from your seat. As you slammed a hand down you pointed at Charlie, causing him to flinch slightly. “MR. DOMPLER!” You shout, eyes ecstatic in hope. Charlie looks around nervously, chuckling softly at your antics. 

“Uh, yeah? What’s up?” He sits at the table, leaning in the chair as you lower your arm. Swiftly, you whip your phone from your pocket to show him the messages. Pointing to Allan’s text you begin to question him, “WHERE WERE YOU ON THIS TIME AND DATE????” You blink rapidly as you point to the date of the messages. Charlie furrows his brow, scratching at his neck as he cranes his head back in thought. He pops his lips, clicking his tongue as he grumbles. 

“Uhhh, fuck… Dude, I dunno… Probably at home drinking… or smoking, one or the other.” He chuckles, turning back to you. Squinting your eyes at him suspiciously at him you hum, pursing your lips. “A likely story… Then you wouldn’t know why Allan wants my favorite cake flavor, would you???” You accuse him, widening your eyes and blinking rapidly. 

Charlie scoffs in mock offense, smiling playfully and furrowing his brows. He waves his hand dismissively, chuckling. “Whaat? Me, know anything ever? Nah, man…” He pauses, “Though, speaking hypothetically… If I did know something… I’d say go and ask Glep.” He chuckles as a broad smile cracks over his face. You lean back, crossing your arms over your chest in thought. A hum of satisfaction leaves your lips, a small smile quirking upon them.

“Hmm… Okay then!” You chirped, taking your leave from the breakroom. Charlie sighed, letting a chuckle of amusement choke from his throat. “God, those two are so fucking in love…”

Glep was somewhere, and nowhere at the same time. How did that make sense? You didn’t know, but Glep always found their ways… They were slippery and hard to get ahold of when you needed them, of course, when they weren’t needed you could find them anywhere you looked. Right now was not the latter, Glep was nowhere to be found and you were positively stumped. 

You grumbled in annoyance, deciding to give u your hunting and think your impulsive plan a once over… Maybe Allan wasn’t doing anything, maybe he had been asking out of curiosity. However, that didn’t explain the late texts. It also didn’t explain anything really… Allan doesn’t ask just for asking, he asks for purposes. You run your hands over your face, rubbing harshly at your temples. Come one brain, do some thinking here… 

…

…….

AUGH!!! Dammit!! Damn that critter!! There’s no reason he would get you cake!! Nothing is coming up, is there??? Nothing that you can think of…

Vrttt.. Vrtt…

Your phone buzzes softly in your pocket, catching you off guard for a split second. You fumble to grab it from its confines, swiping it open to see a text from the critter himself…

“Are you at the office?”

“Yeah”

“Okay.”

You wait for a second, a minute, and another minute, but no more texts come. Urgh, fuck, Allan!! Why did you have to be such a dry-ass texter??? A sigh of disappointment looms in the air as you return to the breakroom, Charlie now nowhere to be seen and Glep still unable to be found. You grumble with aggravation, the dread of having to wait for Allan seeping into your skin. 

Fuck it, you might as well just doomscroll for a while… And so you did. You scrolled for no more than a few minutes before the door was opened, Allan pushing it open with his forearm. He held a small cake in his hands, no more than enough for one or maybe two people. Your brows furrow, confusion now set into your expression.

“Hey,” Allan clears his throat, “Uh… This isn’t what I’d normally do, but here.” He walks over and places the cake in front of you. Once more he clears his throat, his hands now empty he fidgets with his tie. You look between the cake and Allan, a soft blush creeping onto your cheeks. The cake was professionally decorated, with beautiful yet small designs laid over the icing with fondue. In the center was text written in icing, the font bordering on cursive. It asked a simple question, ‘Dinner?’ 

You look back to Allan, looking as if he’d just asked you to marry him. Softly, you begin to smile. 

“Yeah, I’d love that actually.”

[holylulusworld]

Unworthy (2)

Summary: Thor doesn’t think you‘re a good friend to his brother.

Pairing: AU!Thor Odinson x fem!Reader, AU!Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader (platonic/best friends)

Warnings: past addiction, mentions of drug abuse/addiction (Loki), angst, classism, Thor being an ass, BBF trope, mentions of spiked drinks

Catch up here: Unworthy (1)

Unworthy masterlist

“Stop her then, son. If she told you the truth, we should find out more about what happened,” Odin feels like he just threw his daughter out of his house. “I shouldn’t have listened to you. Why did I not double-check your information.”

“Husband, not now,” Frigga places her hand on Odin’s shoulder. “Do not make another mistake. Maybe she is innocent, but we need to investigate further first. Thor, follow her. She’s the best source of information.”

“Right,” Thor huffs but turns to follow you. “I’m not sure she told me the truth. Some people have the ability to sell you any lie.”

Thor walks away to follow you. He easily catches up on you with his long legs and determined steps. “Wait—” He calls your name. It’s more an order than a request.

You move toward the exit, ignoring Thor walks next to you. “I said wait.”

“What else do you want to accuse me of?” You stop for a moment to glare up at Thor. “Maybe I sold drugs to Loki, huh? Maybe I was the one getting him addicted. Just leave me alone, Odinson.”

“If the guy spiked your drink there should be a police report…right?” He cocks a brow. Thor is not as good as his father at reading people, but he can see the fear in your eyes when the memories of that night come back.

“My friend called the cops after bringing me to the hospital. I gave a statement, and they promised me that he wouldn’t get away with what he did to me. I believed them,” you laugh bitterly.

“What happened?” He steps closer to tower over you. Thor is intimidating, with his sheer size and figure dwarfing you, but you won’t cower in front of him.

“What always happens,” you shrug and try to balance the box in your hands at the same time. “He came from a good family with old money. My words against his. I was the outsider allowed to walk their holy halls because of a scholarship.”

“That’s awful,” Thor sucks in a breath. If what you’re telling him is true, he understands that you always despised him, the golden son having it all. He never had to work for anything.

“It didn’t matter that my friend, the doctor, and the nurse gave a statement too. They tried to pressure me into taking my statement back, but I refused,” you sniff, and look away. “I didn’t matter, though. He got away with it because his parents knew the right people. Suddenly my test results were gone, and the guests at the party didn’t remember shit. I was lucky to not lose my scholarship. If we are done here, I’d love to leave this shitty place.”

Thor doesn’t stop you when you walk away from him. He has a lot of information to stomach. Thor hopes you’re just a good liar, and he was right about you. But he has a hunch that every word you said was true.

“That’s all, huh?” Hela looks up from her laptop to glare at Thor. He thumbs through the papers and pictures on Hela’s desk. “You didn’t find more?” He asks.

“Stop nagging,” she snaps at him. “You should thank me instead of moping. I got the statement from her friend and the doctor. The nurse withdrew her statement right after she bought a brand-new car.”

“Sounds fishy,” Hogun grumbles. It wasn’t in his plans to sneak around your apartment and follow you around town. “I don’t think the sweet girl is a criminal mastermind. All she did was to buy groceries and look for a new job.”

“Hey, it’s still my turn,” Hela glares at Hogun. “We wanted to talk about her past before we get to the present and future. A shame I didn’t get the chance to interrogate her.” She smirks at her brother. “I bet the sweet girl would’ve been putty in my hands.”

Thor curls his upper lip. “What did you find out?”

Hela leans back in her chair and crosses one leg over the other. She takes her time to inform her brother.

“I found more questions than answers. But I can tell you that the guy spiking Y/N’s drink is a piece of shit. Over the years his parents tried to cover all the shit he pulled. Luckily, they did not succeed. He crossed one too many lines and they turned their back on him.”

“Interesting,” Thor grabs one of the pictures taken at the hospital. You look scared and his heart hurts seeing the tears run down your cheeks. “Anything else?”

“No well done from you?” She huffs. “Always the same with you and father.” Hela snaps at her brother. “I tried to talk to his parents, but they refused to talk about the incident with Y/N. If you ask me, their son did exactly what Y/N said.”

“Says who…?” Thor questions. He’s still not convinced that you told him the truth and that you are innocent. If so, he’d be the worst person ever for ruining your career and friendship with his brother.

“How is he? Where is he?” You pant heavily as you try to find Loki. “Duke, where is he?” You ask Loki’s sponsor. “Duke!”

“He’s in a bad condition,” Duke’s features soften at your worried look. You’re out of your mind because Loki’s AA sponsor called you in the middle of the night. What if Loki is relapsed or is injured?

“Did he have a relapse?” You clasp your hands together to silently pray Loki didn’t do anything stupid because of what happened. “Duke?”

“No,” Duke shakes his head. “He needs you. Loki asked for you the whole time. I didn’t want to call you, but he wouldn’t stop. He’s vulnerable, Y/N.”

“I need to see him.”

“Loki’s inside my office,” Duke gently pats your shoulder. “Take all your time, Y/N. If you need a ride home, I’ll drive you.”

“Loki?” You walk inside the office, heart lurching in your chest. Loki sits on the ground. His long legs stretched out, and his head hanging. “Darling?”

“Y/N,” he murmurs but doesn’t look at you. Loki believed you gave up on him. Thor, his father, and Frigga didn’t tell him the whole truth. When one of your co-workers told him that you got fired and showed him the pictures Loki knew, Thor did this to you to get you out of his life.

“Hey, beautiful,” you sit down next to Loki and wrap one arm around his shoulders. “How’s my pretty boy tonight?”

“Not good,” he leans his head against your shoulder and sighs. “I almost fucked up again, Y/N. I was bad tonight. I…I…” he sniffles and wrings his hands. “I almost bought the poison.”

“Did you buy it?”

“No.”

“Good. See, you’re stronger than you thought,” you peck his hair. “I knew you could do it, Loki.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about your job and my brother?” He murmurs. “I could’ve helped you.”

“Your brother is an asshole, you know that” you try to cheer Loki up while your world still lies in ruins. “He tried to find something to hold against me and succeed. It’s not the end of the world to lose a job, darling. I’ll find something soon.”

“Hmmm…” Loki thoughtfully hums. “Maybe I can lend you some money.”

“I got spared money, Loki. I’m not your friend because of your money, darling.”

“You are my friend because of my good looks, right?” Relieved that you are not angry at him for the things his family did, Loki sighs.

“I’m your friend because I love you, darling,” you pat his thigh. For a moment you are both silent. “So, you came here for a meeting?”

“Three,” he says. “I’m sorry Duke had to call you.”

“I told you a long time ago that you can always call me, Loki. Day or night,” you softly say. “Did you eat today, darling?”

His growling stomach answers your question. “Not much,” Loki admits. “I wasn’t in the mood for food.”

“That was the most awful rhyme I ever heard,” you laugh. “Come on, darling. I’ll take you home and we can eat my leftovers.”

“You want to take me home?” He purrs. “You can’t wait to get your hands on me, huh? I bet you waited for me to call.”

“You’re a little bitch, Loki Laufeyson.”

“I love you too, Y/N…”

You watch Loki’s chest rise and fall. Still worried about your friend you didn’t leave his side.

Finally at peace after hours of suffering and self-hatred, he sleeps peacefully on your bed.

He greedily stuffed your leftovers into his mouth and even burped because you wanted him to eat dessert too.   

You talked for half the night, assuring him that his father and brother can do whatever they want to. You will stand by Loki’s side. Whether they like it or not.

“If you don’t stop yelling at me I’ll hang up,” you snarl into the phone. “I only called to tell you that Loki is safe and didn’t have a relapse. He’s asleep and I’ll drive him home after he had breakfast.”

Thor yells into the phone. He throws profanities at you while his sister watches him with amusement. She chuckles and listens to your explanation. “Thor, calm down. She took good care of him.”

“You don’t have a say in this,” Thor grunts. “She gets fired and then…” He growls and grunts while you listen to his rant.

“Are you done?” You ask. “I’m going to hang up now. I don’t want to wake Loki. He needs his sleep after everything he’s gone through last night. If you need to know more, ask his sponsor who called me, knowing I’ll be the one getting Loki out of the hole he fell into once again.”

You hang up, already regretting that you called Loki’s family. All you wanted to do was make sure they won't worry all night because he didn’t come home.

You harrumph and walk back inside your living room to switch through the channels. Sleep is out of the question after the call. Thor once again made you furious, and you hate the feeling.

Next time he dares to show his face, you’ll knee his balls and give him a piece of your mind…

Part 3

Tags in reblog.

[welcometothedopeworld]

Alright, Bet ~ *Chisei Kuzuryu*

Summary: Chisei can bag anyone he desires, he's sure of it. So he makes a promise with Haruomi: he is going to score a date with you. However, when he tries, it doesn't go according to plan.

Pairing: Chisei Kuzuryu X Fem!Reader

Genre: Angstyish Oneshot

Word Count: 1364

Warning: Swearing, arguing, Chisei is a massive shit but he turns it around in time.

Masterlist

“Do you think I can get Y/n to fall in love with me?”

Haruomi blinked in shock at his friend. Before he could even respond, Chisei continued, “I mean, I’m already such a great guy. Like I’m literally a God among men. Besides, she probably already has the biggest crush on me. So it would be so easy to have her completely head over heels in love with me!”

“Um…”

“So you’re thinking I should do it? Jeez Haru, you’re so cruel!” Chisei laughed loudly. “I love it!”

“I don’t think you should.” He muttered, but it was already too late. He watched his friend make his way over to where you were working across the street. Deep down, he knew it was a bad idea to let him go over and see you, but if Chisei was determined to get slapped, who was he to stop him? Let him make his mistake and learn from it.

Chisei, on the other hand, was feeling as smug as smug could be. He could get you to fall in love with him just like that. He’s done it before! There was no way you could resist his charm. And if that for some crazy reason failed, he had his secret weapon. Either way, you’d be a fool if you even tried to reject him. Anyone would be lucky to be hit on by him. But he was sure you’d be putty in his hands in no time. He got this. And it was all thanks to the push from Haruomi.

After entering the coffee shop you were working in, he stepped up to the counter. He was grateful that there was no one waiting in line so he could have your undivided attention. Letting his head rest on the palm of his hand, he flashed you a cocky smirk before biting his lip seductively.

“Hello Y/n.”

You paused your cleaning of the espresso machine and narrowed your eyes at him. “Hello, Chisei. Can I help you…?”

“Yes. You can help me by going out with me this weekend.” He winked and nibbled on his bottom lip flirtatiously.

“No.”

His hand slipped from under his chin causing him to almost fall face first into the counter. “What? Did you say no?”

You nodded and went back to cleaning the coffee maker. “Yes, I said no.”

“Are you sure you want to say no?” He bit his lip again, thinking that would help. 

“Hey, stop biting your lip!” You snapped. “You’re not as sexy as you think you are when you do that, you know.”

Now he was offended. How dare you tell him that his secret weapon wasn’t sexy! He was Chisei Kuzuryu! He was the pinnacle of sexy! “Hey! I’ll have you know I’ve been told I’m one of the sexiest people to ever exist in Japan. So I know you’re lying.”

You let out a sarcastic laugh. “You are so full of yourself! And you think accusing me of lying is going to help your chances of scoring a date? You really are a lost case! Look, if you’re not going to buy anything, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Is this your way of playing hard to get? Because if it is, it’s embarrassing.”

Rolling your eyes, you answered, “No, this is me being honest. I’m telling you no because you’re not my type and I’d rather drop dead than go out with you.”

Instead of getting angry like you thought he would, he let out a loud laugh. “Not your type? Baby, I’m everyone’s type. You should feel lucky I want you!”

“That’s not a comforting thought.” You muttered before heaving a sigh. “Look, Chisei. You’re… an interesting guy, and I’m sure any girl would be lucky to have you as their boyfriend. But I am not that girl. I’m sorry. Now I must tell you again: if you’re not going to buy anything, I need you to please leave.”

“Why do you have to play so hard to get?” He whined.

“I’m not playing hard to get! I just told you that!” You shouted back. Before you completely lost it on him, you took a couple deep breaths to calm your nerves. Perhaps you could go about this in a different way. “Do you want me to tell you the truth on why I don’t want to go out with you?”

He bit his lip again, making you scowl. “Is it because I’m too impossibly sexy that you think I’m out of your league?”

“No, it’s because you always do this.”

Chisei furrowed his brows, looking thoroughly confused for once. “Do what?”

“This!” You gesture wildly to all of him, heaving an exasperated sigh. “You’re one of those guys who likes playing around and just being a complete asshole to girls, thinking she likes it. I don’t want to go out with a guy who has a complete disregard for my feelings and treats everything like it’s a game. I want genuine and you’re the most dishonest person I’ve ever met. I wouldn’t be surprised if every word out of your mouth was a lie. Now, for the last time, if you’re not going to buy anything, get the hell out of my coffee shop!”

He was silent for a long time, just staring at you. Chisei had no idea what to think or what to do. No one had ever been this aggressive to him before. Sure Haruomi could be blunt but it didn’t hurt like how your words hurt. Usually, because he was in Buraikan, he was untouchable. However, you had no issue tearing him in two like a piece of paper. What could he say? What could he do? Was he actually being genuine to you or was he really just playing some kind of game? He needed to think, that’s what he needed to do.

“Alright. I’ll have a black coffee with sugar please.” He muttered.

You nodded and got him his coffee in record time. When you handed it to him, his fingers brushed yours but you didn’t even seem fazed by it. He, on the other hand, felt the lump in his throat grow.

Sitting at a table not too far from the counter, he didn’t even touch his coffee. He felt… bad. For what felt like the first time in forever, he felt bad for what he said and did to you. He was usually so confident and arrogant that nothing ever got to him. But this felt different. You were different.

And he couldn’t understand why. Why did you make him feel like this? What started as a silly game just to prove to Haruomi that he could get any girl he wanted, he ended up feeling bad for even trying it. What was so special about you that made him question his motives? How did you get under his skin and how could he get you out? Things were so much simpler when he didn’t have to worry about hurting anyones feelings. But it seemed he was the one that got hurt this time around. And it hurt a lot.

With a dejected sigh, Chisei got up and threw away the now cold coffee. Now he had to go back and tell Haruomi that he didn’t score a date with you. That was going to be embarrassing, especially considering how cocky he was about it earlier. But he couldn’t stand to stay here any longer.

Glancing at you, he swallowed his pride once more to say, “I’m sorry. Really. I know you think I’m lying right now, but I really am sorry for bothering you so much. I’m gonna go and not bother you again.”

Chisei was almost out the door when you called out, “Wait.”

Looking over his shoulder, he watched you sigh. “Alright, one date, but only if you prove that you’re not the kind of guy I thought you are. So no arrogance, no games, none of that shit, alright?”

He couldn’t help himself. A smirk slipped out before he could stop it. “Alright bet.”

You pointed threateningly at him. “You’re on thin ice, Kuzuryu.”

“I’m sorry!”

[chanshoesunite]

Imagine playing the Pepero game with Chan

“You know what we should definitely play tonight? The Pepero game”, Chan announces to the room, his eyes slyly drifting to YN. Everyone groans good-naturedly.

“Oh, come on, boys, we haven’t played it in forever! Are you scared I will beat you all again with my epic skills?”, Chan boasts, pokes Jisung in the chest and takes Changbin in a headlock. “You tell ‘em, love”, YN encourages her boyfriend indulgently. “You are so transparent, hyung”, Jeongin smirks, “we all know you just want to make out with YN!” ”Whaaaat”, Chan’s voice pitches up with incredulity, draping his arms around YN, “I could just do that whenever I want!”

“Yeah, but you are sadist that wants to make us all suffer through your PDA”, Minho deadpans. YN laughs, and Chan darts his looks from Minho to her: “I resent that accusation. Why are you laughing, baby!” “It’s funny cus it’s true”, she says wisely, stroking down Chan’s arms in a calming gesture.

Chan’s face scrunches up adorably. He taps YN on the nose: “No, it must be because Minho is jealous”, he slowly untangles himself from her and takes an innocent step towards his friend, “if you are jealous, you could just ask for your own kisses – but you barely allow me my hugs!”

That last bit he shouts while chasing Minho around the table. “Just let me love you!”, Chan coos. Minho swears, the others laugh and YN grins at these dorks. After two rounds of running, Minho stops and puts his hands out, bracing against the onslaught of brawn and affection.

“Stop! Fine! We shall play the Pepero game! Just get away from me.” Chan immediately stops making grabby hands at Minho. “I knew you’d come around!” “What’s the prize for the winners?”, interjects Felix. “How about the losers have to buy them dinner?”, says Changbin.

“Great plan, Chan and YN always find the best restaurants anyway”, quips Han. “Hey, hey, what? Why should the losers automatically be me and YN?” “Oh yeah, hyung, sure you will focus on winning, suuuure you will!” “You just watch us!” “I’d really rather stare at my washing machine for an hour than watch you two smooch.”

“Alright, alright, focus”, Seungmin says before Chan can start whining more. YN squeezes him tightly and Chan dutifully snaps his mouth shut. “I’m getting the Pepero and I’ll watch the time. You decide on teams.”

Seungmin leaves the room, and the others start playing gawi-bawi-bo to figure out the pairs. Chan stands aside, his hand on YN’s hip, grinning like the cat who got the cream. He gently strokes her as she leans into him. They watch the boys shouting at each other. Then Seungmin brings back a pack of Pepero. Shaking it, he says: “Teams are decided? Ah”, he looks at the pair of Changbin and Hyunjin, “Well, I know who I am putting my money on. OK, get on with it, sit opposite each other.”

YN is sitting in front of Chan, a Pepero between her teeth. Her eyes glitter with amusement as Chan gets ready, holding her lightly by her shoulders. His warm hands feel good on her. The boys around her are shouting rambunctiously, deciding on strategies, but she concentrates on Chan’s mischievous face.

“OK, ready? 3 – 2 – 1 – start!”

More shouting goes up around them, but YN is entirely focused on the gentle way Chan tilts her head to get the best access to her Pepero. He keeps biting off pieces, far too slow to win, but the excitement she senses is worth it. His eyes are half-closed and his enjoyment is crystal-clear. YN is captivated by the sight, content in the grasp he has on her.

When she can tell his lips are nearly touching hers, she flips the Pepero into her mouth and leans into him. Their lips touch in a sweet kiss and she can feel Chan’s chuckle vibrating through his strong chest. He pulls YN closer, one hand splayed along her neck, his thumb stroking her jaw. With a soft sigh, she opens her lips, allowing their tongues to dance.

“Oh my god, I told you he would do this! Awful!” “Hyung setting a new record in holding his breath.” “Hajimaaa, you guys!”, Jisung has dropped to the floor, dramatically pounding on the ground.

Ignoring the teasing voices of the boys, Chan lifts YN into his lap, giving her one last, delicious kiss. YN’s hands are on his shoulder and neck, enjoying the solidity of his muscles. Chan squeezes her bum tightly, their upper bodies flush against each other. She tilts her head back, her face an invitation for one last caress that he cannot resist. He leans in again, giving her a few pecks down her throat. Finally, he relents to the screaming around him.

“Did we lose?”, he asks innocently. “Duh, obviously, you fools!” “You don’t even have a Pepero to show for all the time you wasted!”

With a cheeky smile, YN says: “I think I can safely say, no matter what happened, we are the real winners here.”

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Imposter: Sebastian Michaelis

Of course he’s in the black suit 

At the whim to his master’s will 

killing off whoever endangers Ciel and their plans 

He’s calm and collected

Charming and calculating 

The whole crew is in love or on good terms with him

So someone’s always vouching for him or defending him when he does get accused

Jack of all trades he’ll be saying his job is simply to be the bodyguard to Ciel Phantomhive 

but after putting the crew in awe at all his skills it isn’t bizarre to see himself working in medbay or fixing oxygen

Its likely while your working in your station he works alongside you 

Whether you enjoy his presence or call him out for the ‘demon’ he is he still finds himself attempting to woo you

After all there is only one you, and you are the one he’s been looking for

So of course he’ll create the excuse that he’s protecting you as the crew begins to dwindle

And depending on your position on him this either works in convincing you of his innocence

“Sorry but I really don’t buy that you stayed in that room the whole time!”

“Darling, I assure you I was there. After all, you did see me enter and leave.”

“Yeah but I don't know...it's you we’re talking about here.”

He was probably doing his deeds because of his master’s orders 

But i can see him being allowed a little treat on this excursion:

“I-i can’t believe it was you all along Ciel!” 

The pleading suspect  had been voted out only for Sebastian to immediately eliminate the two others with kitchen knives to their chests. Ciel took off the Innersloth suiit and reached into his pocket as he reattached his pin that represented the dead family’s name. Sebastian did the same, making quick work of his suit before piling the bodies in the corner of the room. You stayed planted shaking in fury as you glared at Ciel. 

“How could you do this to us?! We were all supposed to be a team!? We cared for you! Why would-”

“It was all to revive the Phantomhive name which will bring rise to a new era–.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?! Why didn’t you tell me–?”

“Because all the good people on this ship got voted off!” The outburst from the boy was uncharacteristic as he let his own frustration show as his face became a concerning crimson. 

“No one had to die, it was just going to be the ones that deserved it but plans change and you should too, considering you're a part of it now.!” 

“E-excuse me?”

Immediately you felt the grasp of Sebastian’s hands around your arms as he forcefully dragged you out the door. As you began to struggle you tried calling out for Ciel but were silenced by the locking of the automatic doors. 

“LET ME GO!”

Sebastian paid you no mind as he dragged you away all the while letting his typical smile stretch into one that was much darker. When you finally went limp, exhausted with shock he happily carried you to his room slowly releasing his human disguise. 

“As you can guess my love, I don’t often get to indulge in the spoils of our conquests…but this, you are special. And I’d violate any contract to have you.”

[fairsexynasty]

—DIFFICULT THINGS

jamie tartt x lasso!reader

ONE. TOWNIE

summary: lucy moves to richmond with a memory that doesn’t quite forget what her dad did to her. however, ted is as happy as a goldfish.

warnings: cursing, unlikeable female protagonist, father issues, abandonment issues, resentment

a/n: welcome to this very new series i WILL finish. my love for this show has overtaken my time and i am very excited to be writing this. this chapter is set during “two aces.”

——————

Leonard Cohen once said, “There’s a crack in everything; that’s how the light gets in.” But my world has been infused with the darkest of shadows. Everywhere I search is covered by a dark spot. It seeps into my life from my dreams, nightmares, and memories. I don’t think I was delivered by the hand of God, nor will I be expecting any blessing in the near future. It’s the hope that kills you.

I had that epiphany when I turned seven. No one had ever seen a child so jaded, so self-aware. When I learned that the father I wished for wasn’t that interested in fully being in my life, I accepted it entirely, for what it was worth. He’s popped in and out, coming in as quickly as he leaves, only sticking around for moments he deemed essential to me.

And the worse part is that he’s a good man—a good man with a daughter who felt evil.

I used to wish something terrible would happen to me. A broken collarbone. A car accident. Cancer. If something like that happened to me, I thought he’d return and stay for good.

But those things never happened. I’ve never broken any bones. I’ve never crashed my car into a tree. I’m perfectly healthy. And after all this time, Dad has moved on.

I have a half-brother. Thirteen or fourteen years my junior, it’s disgusting how I’m not too sure about the gap. I’ve never met him, nor do I want to meet him. I envy a child who cannot understand the weight of the word ‘father’ because he’ll always take it for granted.

When I crawl through my memories, I can see Dad crystal clear. He showed up to every one of my birthdays until age sixteen. That’s probably because my brother was old enough to ask and understand why Dad was leaving him. Dad came to my first dance, a father-daughter dance. It was one of the nights I honestly felt pretty. He and I danced the night away, stuffing our faces with candy and desserts and drinking our weight’s worth of soda pop. Dad taught me how to ride a bike. Although it ended with scraping my knees, he helped me up, cleaned my knees, and kissed each one. Dad drove me to my first day of high school. The morning went by quickly, but I can still remember the smile on his face as I waved goodbye to him and walked through the school doors.

I want to be thankful for what I’ve gotten from my dad. But he could have done so much more. Am I not worth the effort?

And it hurts to hate my mother as much as I do.

She could clean up her act for Dad, but once he was on his way home, she’d finally ease into consciousness. We would fight. She’d accuse me of not appreciating her. She’d belittle me and never congratulated me on my accomplishments. She’s manipulative. Controlling. Narcissistic. Evil. I know I’m no good, either. But women like that love confrontation. And she got the best of me every single time.

But I’m a grown woman now. I’m twenty. I have a life. A freedom I’ve never known. I’m trying to be honest, to prove I am everything Mom never thought I’d be. I’m trying to make Dad proud of me. Because everyone else is sure as hell proud of him, he’s Ted Lasso: a simple man with a simple plan who was pulled to spread his kindness in Richmond, England, by coaching their god-awful team. I watched the news with a frown as soon as they announced his new endeavor. If he got a new beginning, why can’t I?

And that’s why I decided to pack up my things and move to England.

I’ve been here before. My mother and I moved around due to her line of work. Whether it was Shanghai, Princeton, Kuala Lumpur, or Rome, I could never call those places home. I feel like Richmond is going to be different. I’m not hopeful. Just curious.

——

The park seems comforting. There appears to be a rhythm that compliments the people. Kids playing soccer, and shops opening for the day.

I sit and watch the world awaken. People pass me by as I sit on the bench, not one of them stopping their routine for me, except one.

lHis greetings were met with responses of “Wanker,” a word I found oddly endearing. He continued down the park trail, saying ‘good morning’ to me mindlessly.

I replied with a deadpan “Wanker,” which surprised him, given my American accent. He turned back, his eyes lighting up in recognition.

“Oh, my lordy-lord,” he muttered, smiling as he said my name, “Lucy.” He looks at me as if I’m a fucking unicorn. His eyes soften, and the smile that always reaches his eyes is suddenly on his face. “ Lucy !” he breathes out as if he’s too scared to say it louder like I’ll run away and leave.

“Hi, Dad.” He pulls me from my seat on the bench and envelops me into the biggest bear hug I’ve ever gotten from him. And those hugs are grizzly and unrelenting.

He lifts me off my feet and holds my head to his shoulder. “Oh, how I love you, Lucy girl. I can’t believe it!”

I groan, feeling slightly embarrassed. "Dad, please put me down. I'm not as tiny as Henry is," I say with a laugh. He puts me down with a smile, but there’s a flash of a solemn look on his face. I guess my mention of Henry has filled him with some semblance of guilt. I can’t tell if that satisfies me or not. "I think you're wondering why I'm here," I say, the false smile still on my face. "And the only reason is because I wanted to see you, Dad. I missed you," I add, trying to perfect the role of the doting daughter, even though it doesn't come naturally.

“Oh, I missed you too, Pumpkin. I’m glad you’re here.” He spots my luggage standing against the bench. “Looks like you’re gonna be visiting for a while, huh?”

I nod slowly, my gaze briefly shifting away. "Yeah, I am. Needed a change of scenery for a while," I admit, hoping he won't probe further into my true reasons for being here.

Dad nods, but I spot him scanning my face for any information I won’t outwardly tell him. Perhaps it’s a parently instinct, or maybe it’s just a Ted Lasso thing. The smile on my face doesn’t falter.

“So, how’s your mom?”

The question hangs in the air, and I can sense the curiosity in his eyes. I clench my jaw and roll my eyes in annoyance. "I really don't want to talk about her right now," I say firmly, hoping to steer the conversation away from a topic I'd rather avoid.

Dad gives me one of those fatherly smiles, understanding my need for privacy but also indicating he'll inquire about it later. "Alright then. How about we get you settled into my place? Don't care if you've found one already. I got you here with me, and you're not going anywhere, missy. I hope that's alright with you," he adds, his face hopeful as he waits for my response.

I acquiesce to his requests. It’s the least I can do. “Sure, Dad. I’d love to.”

He cheers with a fist pump, then wrangles me into yet another bear hug before I tell him he’s crushing my ribs, and he dramatically lets me go with a pout on his face.

I follow him down the streets to his apartment door. We enter, and it’s pretty lovely, yet it feels so hollow. There’s an opened jar of peanut butter on the island. I can tell he radiates joy as we unpack my things into an extra bedroom. I wonder how lonely he’s been without his son and wife.

Yeah. This is the least I can do.

——

After unpacking and settling in, Dad practically begs me to come to Nelson Road with him, and since I’m already feeling a bit guilty, I come along with him.

Upon entering, some guy with a full beard and eyebrows that make him look perpetually constipated looks at me. Well, it’s more of a glare. He walks up to Dad and me, not once taking his eyes off me. I narrow my eyes in response, shooting him a cold glare of my own. “Who the fuck is this? Don’t tell me Rebecca hired another fucking American.” His voice is deep and rumbling and full of snark.

"Seriously, do all British guys walk around with a stick up their ass?" I quip, but my remark falls on deaf ears. I catch the man clenching his jaw at my question. Ah, it seems he doesn't take kindly to being disrespected. One jab at his masculinity, and he's ready to go to war without a second thought.

"Roy Kent, meet my daughter, Lucille," Dad introduces, but I quickly interject, "Lucy to you." I emphasize my preference, not one to stand on formality. "Who the fuck are you, Roy Kent?" I ask, gauging his reaction as he looks between me and my dad, clearly trying to figure something out. I decide to clear the air, "Yeah, my mom isn't Michelle," I clarify, hoping to put any confusion to rest.

Roy's response is a simple "Oh," followed by a grunt as he exits the scene. My dad remains unfazed and carries on, guiding me towards the locker room with his arm casually draped around my shoulder.

"Coach Beard! We've got a new cast member!" Dad announces to the room as we walk out together, seemingly excited to introduce me to his colleagues.

A man with a book and a golf hat turns his chair around and observes us. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the fussbudget,” he says. “Hello, Lucy. I’m Coach Beard. I’ve heard all about you.”

I can't help but snort at the situation. "That's impossible," I retort with a snarky tone. Coach Beard finds my reaction amusing, letting out a chuckle, while my dad gives a slight frown, but I know a few jabs won't easily rattle him.

Suddenly, a strong voice breaks the chatter, announcing, "Ayo, the gaffer's got another kid!" The rest of the men turn their attention to me, their eyes filled with wonder and intrigue. They excitedly chat, asking if they saw what they think they did.

Exiting the office, we step into the open room where my dad proudly introduces me to the team. "Fellas, I'd like to introduce you to my daughter. This is Lucy, everyone."

The players greet me with waves and hellos, except for one guy sitting on the bench, engrossed in his phone, occasionally laughing. I point him out, asking, "Who's that?"

"Jamie Tartt. Hey, Beard, what's the deal with Jamie?" my dad inquires, and seemingly out of nowhere, Jamie appears beside us without making a sound.

Beard responds, "Says he can't practice today. Says he's hurt."

I observe my dad's face dropping with disappointment as he turns to walk out the door and over to Jamie, concern etched across his features.

The whole situation was intense, and I couldn't recall ever seeing my father this angry before. It seemed like there had never been an opportunity for him to get this worked up until now. Watching him unleash his frustration on Jamie reminded me of my mom, who had her share of heated moments. While my dad appeared to be justified in his outburst, Jamie's disrespectful behavior only reinforced my 'British men suck shit' theory.

Feeling overwhelmed, a tingling sensation crept into my head, and my heart raced with the familiar signs of an impending panic attack. I needed to escape, so I swiftly turned on my heel and walked out of the office, trying to distract myself by fiddling with the rings on my fingers.

Wandering aimlessly down the halls, I searched for a private space to catch my breath and calm down. Passing a laughing man, a short guy carrying a laundry bag, and a stunning blonde woman who seemed out of place here, I stopped in my tracks when I heard my dad's name mentioned in a hushed conversation.

"Rebecca, I don't think Coach Lasso will be too thrilled about you trading Jamie away.”

“Higgins, listen to me. I don't care if Lasso is trying to get through to Jamie or if he begs him to come back. Jamie is not returning, and that's precisely what I need," she asserts before abruptly changing the subject, "Now, let me go hunt down my biscuits. They're late."

Realization hits me like a ton of bricks. Dad is being sabotaged. All this time, I believed he was here to make a positive impact on the team, but it turns out they see him as nothing more than a joke. Stepping away from the door, I attempt to make a quick exit, only to collide with a statuesque woman who towers over me.

She glances down at me, exuding power through her stature and fashion, but I'm not intimidated. "Why, hello there, whoever you are. Are you lost?" she inquires.

Ah, this must be Rebecca. The woman who plans to screw my father over. I can't help but roll my eyes at her. "No. Just looking for the bathroom," I retort.

Rebecca gestures towards the sign, displaying her passive-aggressiveness. "Well, it's just around the corner. Right where the 'bathroom' sign is," she points out.

"Cool," I respond nonchalantly, not letting her faze me. "Oh, and by the way, my name's Lucy. Thanks for hiring my dad to coach!"

I catch a flicker of terror in Rebecca's eyes before I walk away, grinning to myself. Drama seems to follow me wherever I go, even in Richmond. Old habits die hard, I suppose.

——

After my quick trip to the loo, I wander over to the dog track, where Dad and Beard stand, closely observing the team's training session. I can't help but chuckle at Jamie's predicament as he wears a penny and sets up cones.

Dad notices my arrival and playfully calls out, "Oh, there you are, Waldo! What were you doing?"

His attempts at humor fail to catch me off guard. While I understand his references, I refuse to engage in the corniness. "Nothing, just using the bathroom," I reply with a mischievous grin, not willing to spill the beans about Rebecca's scheming ways. "Oh, and I met Rebecca. She seems nice," I lie sarcastically, well aware of her conniving nature.

Before Dad can respond, a rather handsome player approaches us gracefully. "Hello there. Sorry, Coach Lasso, but I couldn't continue practice without introducing myself to our guest," he says with a charming smile. "My name is Sam Obisanya. It's a pleasure to meet you, Lucy. The other players and I were wondering if you'd care to join us on the field for a few minutes. We'd like to have some fun at Jamie's expense. Is that alright?"

I return Sam's smile and reply, "Uh, sure. But I haven't played in years, dude. Not sure I'll be any good among you professionals.”

Sam brushes off my concerns, reassuring me, "Oh, that's alright, Lucy. I'm sure Thierry will let you score a couple of goals. Come on!" With that, he guides me towards the field, announcing to the team, "She said yes, you guys!" Their enthusiastic cheers fill the air.

As we assemble for a quick game, a guy with a buzzed fade named Isaac addresses me, confirming my name, "Alright, Lucy, is it?" I nod, and he explains the teams, "We're gonna split into five and five, and you're gonna play with the lads who ain't got a kit on."

"Sounds good," I respond with enthusiasm. I turn to the guys without kits, and each extends a hand for a handshake. I go down the line, shaking hands with each one. There's a short man with curly hair, Bumbercatch, followed by a tall fellow with a broad smile, Jan Maas. Then, a highly energetic man named Dani Rojas greets me, not wasting any time to exclaim, "Football is life!" right in front of me. The last guy, a mousey brunette named Colin, completes the line-up.

Quickly getting into formation with my newfound teammates, they place me front and center for the play. I'm facing off with Sam, who gives me a friendly smile. At the sound of the whistle, we both dash for the ball, but I swiftly take control and dribble it down the field. Roy Kent charges towards me, determined to tackle the ball away, but I outmaneuver him with a quick juke, causing him to land on his ass. The guys react with astonishment, and suddenly, the game shifts from Sam's gentle start to full intensity.

Isaac rushes towards me, sporting a determined expression, but I pass the ball to Dani Rojas, who's open and ready. Dani drives it down the field, but as soon as he spots an opportunity, he passes it back to me. With precision, I shoot the ball into the goal, leaving the goalkeeper stunned as it whizzes past him.

The entire team stands in complete silence, including my dad and Coach Beard, who are both staring at me with their mouths agape. The momentary hush is broken by Jamie Tartt, who teasingly remarks, "Ay, wanker's kid just got you real good, lads." He winks at me, provoking a gag from me followed by a flip-off.

Isaac can't contain his excitement, exclaiming, "Shit, bruv! You just broke Roy Kent's ankles!"

Roy growls behind me, clearly not pleased with being outplayed. "You got fucking lucky, kid," he grumbles.

I don't back down, confidently replying, "Luck's got nothing to do with it. Either you're cursed or you just ate shit, Kent."

I have to admit, Richmond has exceeded my expectations thus far, but I won't let it get the best of me just yet.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

aita for getting an unhoused dude kicked out of my building?

long time reader first time caller. this happened a few years ago but i still feel mildly guilty about it. i (21 at the time, nb) lived in an oldass new england inn that had been subdivided into two halves, side A and B, rent a room style. i lived with 9 other people, all girls or nb, at the time. sides A and B were accessible to each other through the attic or basement, but otherwise to pass from side to side one would have to go through a locked outdoor breezeway. each room didn’t really lock and anyone living in this building would have pretty easy access to anyone else’s room should they want to. this is fairly important

during i believe november, an empty room in our house on side A suddenly contained a random man. i personally lived on side B, but we were all close friends with each other throughout the house. when this guy appeared, the folks on side A got pretty freaked out, as we had been told a new girl would be moving into that apartment in a week, not a man. no one on side A wanted to talk to the new guy as they felt too frightened, and as i was kind of operating as the ‘man of the house’ at the time (tough tall dyke privilege), i said i would talk to him for them.

when i met him by myself he seemed like a nice guy. tall, maybe 6’4”, white and presumably cis, athletic build. he was fine but i could see how the side A residents were intimidated. however, when i talked to him, he said he was staying in this room because his friend (who lived there over a month ago and had moved out) had told him he could crash there. we were not in contact with this previous resident; presumably he had made copies of his old keys. new guy said he was looking to stay indefinitely until he could find a new place. we parted ways fine enough and i informed my roommates of what he said.

they were not pleased about his ‘indefinite stay’ plans and reached out to our landlady, who decided to come that day and talk to him as well. she asked me to accompany her as she was a little lady and also scared of big men (understandable) (i’d like to say as a footnote fuck landlords but she was an exception, lovely mom-like figure who kept our rent low as hell)

when meeting with new guy with the landlady, she did all the talking and i stood mutely as a witness and a bodyguard, i guess. she told him she didn’t want to kick him out, but she had a new renter coming in a week and if he couldn’t get out by then they would have a problem. now here is where he started to get verbally aggressive. his frustration was very understandable and landlady was mostly patient with it, but when he started calling me an “ignorant bitch” and accusing me of trespassing (given i lived on side B, not side A), she snapped, said not to talk to me like that, and told him he had until the end of the day to clear out. ultimately, he refused to clear out that night. the next day around noon landlady came with the cops to help him leave. he wasn’t arrested or anything, just escorted out after packing up.

ultimately i feel pretty guilty about this because if it were entirely up to me i wouldn’t have snitched on him, just warned him about the new renter coming. but because my roommates felt very unsafe i felt i had to put on my bad guy boots and support them and my landlady; but if i hadnt been there as “bodyguard” maybe things wouldn’t have gotten aggressive? i have no idea what happened to the poor guy afterwards, i saw him walk down the street away from our house and never saw him again. i hope he’s doing ok now. so was i the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

[felonytaxevasion]

Arc 1 - Bonds

My assorted commentary on the first chapter of Pact for my mutuals who were interested in my thoughts. Testing out formatting this might be mess thank you for your patience.

As always no spoilers please thank you <333

This is technically my second time reading this but I wasn't paying attention the first time so I wanted to start over

1.1

“My children are useless,” she said. She was so dismissive and casual about it.

First of all. Icon. I absolutely love wretched old women and I love having the foresight of knowing practitioners cant lie meaning that this is presumably an objective evaluation of her children's capabilities. I'm also gonna watch out for Blake's mom and Aunt Stephanie though. They aren't included in that statement so maybe we can have an evil magic milf era. Like in Umineko. I love Umineko.

If anything I’d said had an impact, it was that. I could see the faint amusement drop away from her. “Are you accusing me of being a liar, Master Blake?”

aHA BECAUSE PRACTITIONER RULES

It was well after dark when someone stepped outside to talk to me. I closed out of the puzzle game I was playing on my phone. The brightness of the screen made for a dark patch that lingered in my vision as I looked up. Eleven-fifty at night.

This is an interesting writing choice because it's clear that a lot of time has passed but not exactly how much. Which adds mystery to the question of "was Rose planned all along or did Rose Sr. make an impulse choice after talking with Blake.

Also I really wanna know. When Rose met Ivy did her parents bring her in and talk or did they just set the baby on the bed and leave.

“Molly! Don’t be rash!” Aunt Irene admonished her. “I don’t want it,” Molly said, again. She grabbed the footboard of the bed. “No.“ “Molly, don’t be silly.”

Molly is one of the biggest reasons I don't want spoilers. Everything about her is so interesting. She was the first choice but she died very quickly. But not THAT quickly. Was Rose 2 always the plan and Molly was the sacrificial lamb to pave the way or was Molly just genuinely the best choice to become heiress. She survived for four months which is, if Pact is paced similarly to Worm, long enough to survive Leviathan, The Slaughterhouse Nine, Coil, and Echidna or whatever their equivalent in Pact land is. And that is no small feat. Like obviously I'm assuming here but I can't imagine the combined forces of Jacobs Bell were just letting her chill. I have so many questions about her and I want answers to none of them.

The blonde woman opposite him folded her hands in front of her. “That was… noteworthy in scale. Kind of her to point the way, but she was never crude. We’ll need to know what she did before we move on.”

THIS SHIT RIGHT HERE. Noteworthy in scale. Rose is not a small feat. Why are she and Blake positioned as the backup plan. Thinking so hard

“Funny thing, Maggie,” Padraic said, and when he smiled, the expression extended further than it should have. The smile too wide, the eyes too long and narrow. “When something momentous occurs, it can be the equivalent of lighting up the night sky, scattering fog and clouds to the horizons. You can see more clearly… but when you look, they can look back, too.”

Maggie and Padraic are some of my favorite characters based on vibes alone. I just know they're going to die so horribly so early on. At least Maggie.

“Mm,” the man in the throne said. “‘Lo, stranger. Listen, I don’t think you should believe what any of them say about me. If you need help, I can offer it.” “For a price,” the dog added.

Now see Johannes I would love to give you the benefit of the doubt however I know for a fact (a pact fact!) I have not seen any fanart of you making out sloppy style with Blake Thorburn and as such I find it hard to believe you are his ally. The wildbow ecosystem is too yaoi deprived to not jump on that pairing unless you're some type of fucked up.

“Run,” she said. “Get to the house, now.” “Which house? Who-” “Molly’s dead,” she said. “You’re next.”

HAI ROSE

1.2

I actually don't have much commentary on this chapter other than RIP to BlakeRose but I would happily take the deal to become a creepy bird monster. That's the ideal living situation actually.

1.3

The first sheet had only a simple message, penned in a curling script I almost envied. ‘Birth date’. I tried the year I’d been born. It didn’t work. Day, month? One-eight-oh-one.

...

“Molly!” I hollered, loud enough I should have been audible throughout the house. “Anyone!?” No response. Somewhere, in my general confusion and the mess of stuff I didn’t know or understand, I’d hoped that Molly being alive would be one of those things that caught me off guard.

Not to needle at his grieving process but I'm pretty sure the fact that it was His Birthday Not Molly's that opened the door was a pretty clear sign

I shook my head. “No clue. Something to keep in mind. After stipulations, there’s a section on stipend, with a regular allowance, notes on how often the lawyers can be called without incurring a debt. Oh, right here. A mention of the bird-skull monsters.” “What?” I could see Rose move, standing from her seat. “I’m joking,” I said, with zero humor in my voice.

I think Wildbow should do what visual novels franchises do and make a non canon crossover beach themed spinoff episode with all his characters. I want to see Blake and Lisa be cunty together

My friends were artists and artistic types. I had the unfortunate distinction of being a less than stellar artist. But I’d owed them for the help and support they’d given me, and in helping them with their jobs, I’d stumbled onto a bit of work. Setting up their work, installations, as well as all the other grunt jobs. Sure, they could go to a carpenter to get something put together in the way of a display stand, but that carpenter wouldn’t necessarily know what was at play with the art. Along the way, I’d settled into being a go-to handyman and delivery guy in the local art community. I knew the gallery owners, I knew who was who, and if I couldn’t do a job myself, I knew who to call. Not so glamorous or fancy, not exactly stellar pay, but I had stupid little skills that I could use here. In a pinch, I could use my stride or my arm length to help me figure out measurements, thirty three and a half and thirty-two and a half inches, respectively.

So fun fact I was a gallery tech assistant for about three or four years in high school and I would just like the record to state. A. Wildbow you captured the gallery tech mentality exactly. Tired, sassy, and overall filled with peculiar useful skills. 100% accuracy rate.

Also Blake please call your friends sooner rather than later. The blond gallery tech who works for cheap going suddenly missing is going to DEVASTATE that community. Blake you are a protected species under the wildlife conservation act and the human equivalent of catnip for bisexuals with an art history degree you are the foundation of that community and they are going to be CONCERNED

1.4

She looked a little agitated, nervous. “I think we can go this route. Avoid getting into the ugliest stuff, the books on demons and whatever else. If witch hunters and inquisitors can survive this sort of thing, maybe we can too.” “Borrowing power instead of using it?”

I'm trying to figure out if Rose II is in on it. Because like. She should be right? But then she says things like this that make it sound like she really is just as lost as Blake

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m kind of attached to you, metaphysically. You die, I’m going to be a goner too.” “You think. Either way, I’m the one who got injured,” I said. “I’m the one who has stitches in my hand and a cut on my face.” “At least you’re alive,” she retorted.

They've so immediately become siblings.

Which by the way. If Blake and Rose are fucked up twins of a sort. I have questions about Paige and Peter. Especially seeing as Paige is considered a non starter for Rose Senior

“In this scenario, we’ve got a situation involving a number of countries. If you will, there’s America. I’m rather interested in America for the purpose of this discussion, but that’s just me. Powerful, perhaps overly proud, large, keepers of the peace.” I glanced at his uniform. “Sure.”

Close enough. Welcome Back Victoria Dallon!!

1.5

“It smells like a rose,” a man announced, “It’s as beautiful as a rose. I dare say it’s as fragile as a rose, once you get past the thorns. But is it really our Rose?” I turned. Three twenty-somethings, if I went by appearances, were approaching me from behind. I might have been off. Each had alcohol in brown bags.

I want to be one of them so bad. I want to join the fucked up Fairie gang.

“No,” I said. I grabbed one of the books from the coffee table. “Anger is good.” “Good?” “It keeps us moving. You read the book on implements, I’ll read up on familiars when I’m done Essentials.”

True gallery tech mindset <3

1.6

“Blake!” Rose’s voice, from the living room. “You have to help him!”

This is one of those passages that makes me think Rosie is in on it. You've read more than Blake how has this being an other trap not occurred to you

1.7

Should another practitioner need to bait him again, know that this author used: a pile of festering boar carcasses, six feet high, each carved with his name when well into their state of decay, the decay timed using refrigeration to be roughly parallel; seven jars of burning hair, resupplied keep the flames perpetually alight

Yea who hasn't been here at one point

“To everyone and everything that’s listening,” I said. I heard Rose start speaking behind me, but my words drowned hers out. “To me, and to nobody in particular, I’ve gotta say, I didn’t choose this. I’m doing this for family, to respect them as they were in the past, when my cousins were also my friends, so the others don’t face what Molly did. I’m doing it to respect stuff in the present, because even if I dislike my cousins, I don’t want them to have to face this situation and get killed off. I’m doing this for the family that comes in the future, so my kids and all our descendants don’t have this debt hanging over our heads. Above all, I think I’m doing this for my real family. For the friends I made who gave me support when I needed it most, so I can demonstrate what they taught me. Past, present, future, and… more abstract.”

Guy who can only hate his family this much because of how much he loves them Augh Augh

I could hear Rose behind me, still talking, as if she were very distant. “-than a vestige.”

SUSPICIOUS

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, quiet, “because it’s not blood. I’m not offering anything worth taking, and there aren’t any spirits here to listen and obey, are there?” “There are other options, maybe?” “It doesn’t matter,” she said, again. “I don’t care anymore.”

But then this is the opposite of suspicious because she can't lie but she's saying it didn't work and she wants to give up hhhhhhh Rose you are so slippery to understand

Gathered Pages

I didn't highlight any particular passages but Rose Senior I love youuuuuuuu