and hopefully understanding that will make you a better person and you will not bother me

porygons  asked:

Why do you think it's ok to use queer as a blanket term? As a bi trans person I find it incredibly hurtful and offensive

Do you really want to know my answer? Like seriously, are you actually open to listening to what my answer may be and absorbing any new information I may offer on the topic?

Because from here it doesn’t seem like you are. 

Let’s be honest with each other, you started out with the phrase “why do you think it’s ok” which is aggressive language, and then you justified your disagreement with your identity. Which I always found to be an interesting tactic, because when this clarification exists in an argument it assumes that by having this particular set of identities you are somehow more qualified to discuss this problem than someone else, while at the same time personalizing you so it is harder for anyone to disagree with you.

You then use the words hurtful, and then offensive. Both button words that illicit a certain type of response, hurtful in how inarguable it is. That is your feeling and I would never argue what a stranger is feeling to them. Then there is offensive, which is a word that is very well used in the LGBT+ community to discuss important issues surrounding our dehumanization. 

I don’t think that this message was a carefully crafted masterpiece of debate and trickery that you spent hour figuring out the direct phrasing of obviously, but I do think you had an intent when you wrote this message and the words you chose make that intent clear. 

You don’t want to talk to me. Hell I doubt you even follow me. I have anonymous turned off on my ask box, but I am almost 100% sure that if I didn’t you would be sending this under the little sunglasses wearing icon.

Also if you checked my FAQ you would have found a helpful little link explaining to you my views on the queer discourse. You may have noticed that I have my own reasons why I decide to use that word, and my own history with it. You probably also would have seen my post saying that I don’t mind people disagreeing with me. Or you could have seen that I have a link set up that blocks the word from all my content so no one has to see it if they don’t want to, and they can still have access to the history that I give insight into. 

But you didn’t care about that did you? Because you aren’t actually interested in what I have to say, if you were you would have already seen all of this and you would have seen my request for people to stop asking me to drag out my arguments for why I use the word again and again. You probably would have realized that either A) it is a lost cause so why bother B) that I have nothing left to say on the matter that I haven’t already said and you may have respected my professional boundaries enough to leave it alone.  

But here we are, you uninformed and angry, and me annoyed and tired. We aren’t going to have a good dialogue, and I am near certain you wouldn’t have accepted one if I offered it. You are not here to change my mind, because I have to assume that you at least did a basic check to see that my entire project has the word queer in it and it is pretty clear that isn’t changing. And you are also not here to have your mind changed. 

And to be honest I have no desire to change your mind. I don’t mind people disagreeing with me on this. It actually isn’t that big of a deal to me if someone doesn’t agree with my viewpoints all the time. 

I have read a lot of arguments in favour of removing the word from our lexicon completely. I disagree, but I understand them. As I have said before, this isn’t a huge dividing point for me. 

I have given people access to my work without the word queer in it, and that is the extent of what I am going to do here. 

So why are you sending this in? Nothing is going to change from it, and honestly it is a pretty boring message so I can’t believe you thought something would.

I think the sole reason you sent this was performative. 

You wanted to show that you tried to convince that big mean queer person without actually trying to convince them. Maybe this was a performance; for your followers, maybe you will screenshot my response and share them in a group chat. Or it is also possible this is a performance for yourself, maybe you want to convince yourself that you are doing something. 

Maybe you feel ineffective or like you need to make a difference so you are sending this message to me to feel proud of yourself for trying to change something that you don’t like. 

But you aren’t doing this to actually do the hard work of changing something. 

And it is fine if you aren’t able to do that work for any reason, but leave other people out of your sense of inadequacy. I am not here to be your punching bag that you hit so you can feel big and strong.  

I am tired, and I am bored of people sending me this performative garbage.

Which of course lends itself to the question, why am I answering this publicly?

I will admit there is a little bit of performance from my side as well, I want people to see how right I am and how much this behavior sucks. I want people to see me destroying this ask, and I am not going to lie I am totally going to send screenshots to the group chat.

What makes us different, is that I didn’t seek this performance out. I clearly did not send this to myself, and I haven’t made a post about the queer discourse in months. Which means, this person had to search for me so that they could get mad at me. Whereas I just had to check my inbox this morning and respond to what was there.

But outside of the performance of it all, I want my answer to sit with you for a couple of days. I don’t care if I change your mind about the queer discourse because honestly I do not care about the queer discourse. But I do want to change something. I want you to stop sending asks like these, because this doesn’t seem like it is your first. 

And if you were just sending them to me I would be fine with it. I can delete asks, and they roll off my back if I decide to let them. But not everyone is like that. 

I could now give a rant about the little baby queers I am protecting, but it is not just about them. It is about all of the people you send this kind of thing to (who almost certainly don’t deserve hate mail), whether they are affected deeply by it or not it doesn’t make what you are doing any better. 

And if me writing this long message publicly makes it less likely for you to send something like this again, then it is worth the five minutes I have spent crafting it. Because if you are a little more self conscious about doing something like this again, then hopefully I will have spared a couple of people the annoyance of having to deal with this kind of garbage message. 

Snuggle - Jughead Jones

REQUEST: Hey I was wondering if you could do a a Jughead fluff where the readers almost always cold & wears his black hoody & well it fits his 6'1 frame well it basically a blanket on her 5'6 self, basically she wears his hoody that fits him fine but it’s really big on her and it’s just fluffy & funny & Veronica & Kevin totally ship it😂

Sorry for taking so long :3 Hope you like it! I thought it started off okay but then i kind of ruined it, i apologise, i’m not very good at writing ehueuheueh

Warnings: fluffy fluff fluff / dead inside reader (one swear word :3)

Words: 2,152

“So I told her, that what she did was crossing the line,” Veronica’s story was reaching its climax, and Kevin was enjoying every second of it.

“Fair enough,” He interrupted, expression eager, waiting to hear what happened next. 

However, before Veronica could continue, you entered the student lounge, nonchalantly slurping a takeaway Pop’s strawberry milkshake. Your bag was slung carelessly over your shoulder and your unkempt hair was lazily tied up in a messy bun, which flopped around on top of your head. You’d skipped makeup, and your eyes were surrounded by dark circles. You wore your usual converse and ripped jeans, along with a white crop top. This had been a bad choice, as it was nearly the middle of December, so you were absolutely freezing. You’d been so tired from revising for exams, that you hadn’t even bothered to check what you were wearing that morning.

You stood around the back of the couch Kevin sat on, before flopping face down and flipping your body over so you were lying on the loveseat, legs on Kevin’s lap and face buried in an assortment of cushions.

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Do You Miss Me (at all) Sherlock x reader part 1

A/N: This took me forever to finish! For the love of god, I struggled with this hours and days! So, this will be two parted, and apologizes for not posting fanfics for awhile, I’ve been busy with other things (also tried to figure out how to continue the heartless, there will be a new chapter of it soon enough, hopefully) also this was supposed to be out at Friday, but I couldn’t get myself to finish this since this basically a dialogue done by shouting and fighting. But anyway, hope this is good in some sort of weird way.


Here’s a link for the next chapter http://all-fandoms-fiction.tumblr.com/post/157287362239/do-you-miss-me-at-all-2-sherlock-x-reader


You had been in a relationship with Sherlock for over four months now and not to get you wrong, you did love the high functioning sociopath even if it got rough. For example he barely told you he cared for you more than as a friend. It had taken him all his might to tell you that just that once when you started dating and you were as surprised as anyone would’ve been in that situation. To hear Sherlock Holmes, the detective incapable of understanding sentiment or compassion, say he loved you was enough to make you faint, but you didn’t. First you thought it had to be a trick, to test an experiment and one specific kind had slithered in your mind. He was probably testing how you felt about him, even having his own suspicions of you having feelings for him. Maybe he was waiting for your pupils to dilate, testing your pulse? Then he did something that nearly gave you a heart attack. He had kissed you. From there on you two had started dating, but it took some time from him to convince you he really liked you and it wasn’t for a case or a test.

It had been just once he had said he loved you, from that on everything had gone down hill. You knew he wasn’t into opening his heart, which you had become aware of that second he had opened it to you, but you couldn’t but wonder had he come to his senses of you and realized he had only fancied you for short amount of time and the feelings had died by now. At bad days he seemed he barely even acknowledged you were in the same room. He was snarky with his comments, nearly making eye contact and ignoring you at times. It wasn’t anything John hadn’t ever experienced with Sherlock but you couldn’t stop thinking that you would be even slightly privileged to be treated in better way than that.

Sherlock had been buried with work, now on his list at the top was a new case that hadn’t made any progress and it frustrated him. He was tense and easy to piss off. You were the same, but for other reasons. His acts had reflected on you, his now nasty personality and way of ignoring you made it impossible for you to stand him.

The two of you had just come back to Baker Street from a crime scene and you were fuming of rage. Once again you had been pushed aside and treated like you knew nothing. Even Lestrade, just like Sherlock always said, was capable of sensing the situation. Even the police inspector was able to make out Sherlock was doing a lousy job as a boyfriend. You couldn’t forget the wide eyes and the blank, puzzled stare he gave to you two when Sherlock pushed you, no, he literally pushed you more than once aside and kept telling you to keep quiet as your suggestions and deductions would just embarrass him, you and everyone around.

You stomped up the stairs to the flat, Sherlock following after you. You stayed close to the door leading back downstairs while Sherlock went to sink in his chair. He released a long heavy sigh and closed his eyes in disappointment. He muttered how useless the visit had been and how it had only cost his precious time on the case in hand. The crime scene you two just witnessed had, as he said, obviously nothing in common.

”Did you really have to do that?” You questioned after waiting enough, listening to Sherlock muttering and complaining about the case. Your hands were crossed over your chest and your right foot was tapping the floor in an impatient way. To this Sherlock answered with lowered brows and watched you in confusion. You huffed and looked away. ”Embarrass me in front of the whole Scotland Yard?” You corrected. Sherlock only rolled his eyes and went to correct you. ”There was nearly even half of the Scotland Yard present.” Sherlock shifted in his seat. ”I wouldn’t worry about them. They barely know anything so you being incorrect now and then wouldn’t make them any better than you.”

You could hang onto that statement, he had almost praised you just now and it was the best you had got from him for since he had been burdened with this particular case, but then again you didn’t need to settle for this. This wasn’t enough to wipe all the bad comments he’d made in the past though you weren’t even sure was there anything he could do, a one single act that would calm you.

”To you that was the entire Scotland Yard.” You pushed persistently. He had said it himself countless of times. The people in Scotland Yard that had ever worked with him were the only people that counted if you asked for his opinion.

”Well, yes, but obviously it wasn’t exactly the whole Scotland Yard.” Sherlock placed his fingers under his chin, resembling his mind palace position but he kept his eyes open and on you. He eyed you suspiciously, trying to deduce what you were going through in your head, but judging by his expression he had no idea what made you so pissed. ”Is something bothering you?”

To that you let out a sarcastic laugh. Had he really only got that out of you? He really was as magnificent and astonishing as John always said. Sarcastically saying of course. But this time he surprised you by how dumb he was.

”Are you really that blind?” You finally snapped. You humorously watched as Sherlock gave away how offended he was by your statement but without skipping a beat you continued. ”You embarrassed me in front of Scotland Yard! And that’s not all! You’ve treated me worse and worse the further we get down on this case. Hell, you even treat Anderson better than me!” And it was true. He had even praised Anderson today for stating something so obvious and simple that even a blind person would’ve seen it.

”I was being sarcastic.” Sherlock muttered seriously and looked down on the floor, clearly drifting away from the conversation and to his mind palace.

”Well, it wasn’t clear!” You yelled and threw your hands in the air. ”Everybody thought you really meant it. And don’t dare shut me off now!” You took three long steps and put your hands on either side of Sherlock’s armrests on his chair, your face inches away from his. ”Don’t treat me like this!”

”Treat you like what?” Sherlock shot up from his seat, you taking a fast step backwards to make more room between the two of you. He stared back at you coldly. His blue eyes were like frozen and he looked intimidating. Sherlock tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he questioned you.

”I told you already! You ignore me! Like I don’t exist at all! You always pretend like I’m not there. You put your work first and I feel like I don’t even exist on the list of your priorities! You also have pushed me around, literally, and you won’t let me even speak when we’re out!”

”Stating the obvious shouldn’t be reworded! You want me to let you embarrassed yourself? By pointing out what everyone is able to witness with their own eyes?”

”Oh, so now I’m embarrassing myself? Thank you for saving me, Sherlock, for keeping me quiet when I could’ve said something dumb!” The room was silent for a second, until you took a deep breath. ”Look, you keep me around but make it feel like I am the one clinging on you and following you like a lost puppy, and when I try to advance you, you only shoot me down. You won’t show me I matter!”

”I have told you how I feel about you, do you really need me to do it several times a day? Because you know I won’t be up to it. I am not a man who keeps showering you with all the pleasantries and praises-!”

”I know that and it’s not what I asked!” You snapped back. You were wondering was Mrs. Hudson listening to you two shouting. If she was she was probably worried. Worried what you’d do if this would go further on and how you would end up like. Mrs. Hudson knew what Sherlock was capable of when he was bored or even drugged, but when angered? And with you against him? You couldn’t answer to that either.

”Then what is it? I can’t quit my job and forget all the cases just because of you. Just because of love.” He pronounced the last word with disgust, as if the whole word was ridiculous to even be said.

”I’m not telling you to quit, I’m suggesting you to leave it be when you clearly can’t work it out, not now at least. You’ve run out of clues and there is nothing you can do to make the problem solved. You have to wait!”

”I can’t just wait until another one gets killed!” Sherlock spit out and glared down at you.

”Well, there’s nothing else you can do.” You told him matter of factly. ”Just talking about the case makes you a mess, Sherlock. You don’t eat, you don’t sleep, and how you treat people around you is horrible. Even if you have a problematic case in hand it doesn’t give you the privilege to act like a moron!”

”Oh so I am the one acting like a moron?” Sherlock looked down on you. ”You have done nothing to help me on this case, the reason I keep you around is only because I thought there would be use of you, but guess I was wrong with you. And here you are, waiting for me to sugar coat you with flatter and sweet talk. Like it wasn’t enough I told you once how I care about you.” He had struggled enough by telling you he loved you once, and what were the looks of it he wasn’t going to do it ever again and actually it made you want nothing more than him to never say anything to you.

”I knew what I was getting myself into when I started this relationship with you.  I know it’s hard for you to say how you feel, but I’m not asking you to tell me that. It’s just that you never show it! You never sit next to me, you never walk close to me, and you barely talk to me! If you could just treat me like a human being!” You didn’t let Sherlock answer, you paced around nervously, but not scared. You were infuriated. ”I really thought I wouldn’t be the only one to do things I don’t usually like to do. Like waking up at 3am in the morning to visit a crime scene, or running around London after a maniac without eating for a whole day! I still never complaint! But where I draw the line is when I am treated worse than even the people you can’t stand!”

”Enough with Anderson already!” Sherlock sighed and spin around.

”I’m not talking about Anderson! I am saying you don’t treat me like your girlfriend and even Lestrade saw what was going on today!” You felt bad at thinking about it again, your stomach dropped at the thought of it. ”The way you act towards me isn’t normal, Sherlock!”

”So I’m supposed to be all around you when we’re on a case? Oh, wake up, (Y/n)! I do not show emotions or am I even capable of feel certain of emotions. Love and sentiment do not get me anywhere and there for I keep them out of my life!” You flinched. That was it. You had enough.

”Then let me help you.” You said and went to get your bag.

”What are you doing?” Sherlock asked sounding bored and fed up by your attitude, his brows furrowed.

”Like you said, you rid yourself of certain feelings. There for I’m leaving. Sorry I ever bothered to step into your life.” You said and turned. ”Goodbye, Sherlock Holmes.” And with that you left. You went down the stairs in a hurry and rage, stomping loudly. You heard Mrs. Hudson come out of her flat, now standing next to the front door, looking at you worriedly.

”Are you two having a little domestic?” She asked with a sad and nervous tone.

”Could say so.” You answered coldly and opened the door.

”When are you coming back, dear?”

”I’m not.” You deadpanned. You had stopped at the entrance and were looking at Mrs. Hudson with a serious expression.

Mrs. Hudson gazed up the stairs to the living room. ”I’m sure what ever he said he doesn’t mean it.” She assured you, but you knew better and you also had made up your mind.

”I’m sure he did.” You told, then closing the door and left Baker Street.

Mrs. Hudson was left alone to wonder what had happened. She let her eyes wonder towards the stairs again, whispering sadly to herself, ”What have you done now, Sherlock?”

It’s Only Logical - Chapter One

Pairings: Logicality/Prinxiety

Warnings: Swearing, implied sexuality

Patton didn’t exactly know what he expected when he walked into the florist shop, but this definitely wasn’t it. The man who was presently looking at him with an impassive expression was…hot. Like, really hot. He was tall and slim, with hazel eyes peering curiously at him from behind black glasses and hair that had that effortlessly mussed look that either took five minutes or an hour. Well, if he didn’t get the job, he was definitely getting his number. Patton blinked twice before mentally slapping himself. He was here for a job, not a date!

“Yes, I am hiring. I need someone to assist with customer service, handle the cash register and take phone orders. If the correct candidate proved capable, I might consider allowing them to assist me with arrangements, propagation and landscape design. I presently have a six-man crew to assist with the landscaping arm of my business, but I am handling the shop and greenhouse alone. Do you have any experience?”

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of grocery happenings and broken glass - sans x reader/self insert

HEY! Since it’s fanfic friday, can you do one with UT Sans and the “enemies to lovers” trope? it can just be a few scenes where the relationship changes. u dont have to ofc but idk i really like those kinds of stories :‘0c

Summary: You’re an enigma wrapped in a mystery, and he’ll do anything literally) to get you to solve yourself. (Or the obligatory fic wherein sans goes from wanting to dunk you to wanting to kiss you)

Notes: AAAAAAAA?????? AAAAAA. Mcfrickin. Love this trope. Bless u. blessed prompt. i had too much fun writing this help.

Writer: Mod Chrissu

The first time he meets you, it’s weird as hell to him.

Firstly, you are probably the best looking human he’s ever laid eyes on. Your hands are balled up and pushing into your hips, your head craned to look up with a sneer at somebody much taller than you.

When he sees who it is, the attraction that he felt immediately was replaced with intense anger.

His brother is holding a grocery basket, one that he knows isn’t his because it’s completely barren of any type of pasta or sauce. His grin is a little shaky, as if he’s apologetic, but also scared. There’s a few food items on the floor that are lying abandoned, so he assumes that the basket must have overturned in some way and Papyrus went to help you. So why did your expression hold so much fury?

He mosies on over, hands stuffed in his pockets. He’s gonna start out calm and cordial, and hopefully this human won’t give him a reason to dunk them into next Saturday. “hiya. what’s up?” He greets, keeping his tone relaxed and chipper, hoping that this goes well.

“SANS!” The way his brother says his name, almost in relief, makes his opinion of the human drop even further. “HELLO, BROTHER!”

You turn to face Sans, your face portraying annoyance. If it wasn’t for the fact that you looked like you had a problem with his bro, Sans might have considered using a sly pickup line. But no, you open your mouth and erase that possibility. “Oh, he’s with you?” You imply, pointing to the taller skeleton, who’s fidgeting nervously.

His grin turns a little steely. He doesn’t like to see Paps so scared. “yeah. s’there a problem with that?”

“Maybe. Anyways, listen here, dudebro.” Attention aimed at Papyrus again, mouth twisting into a scowl. “I got this. I don’t need somebody swooping in and saving me.” You rip the basket away from Papyrus and bend down to pick up the food on the floor, eyes widening when you see the damage done. “Damn it, the cans are dented!”

“listen buddy, i’m sure you’re just misunderstanding–” His patience is wearing very thin but an agitated sigh cuts him off.

“Look, buddy, I already had to walk all the way here because my piece of shit car broke down, I don’t need some random guy telling me off.” Your body language radiates don’t fuck with me today, and he doesn’t really understand why. “I’m sorry, but I’m not in the mood.” Food retrieved from the ground and in the basket, you straighten up and give both he and Papyrus a pointed glare. “Now if you’ll excuse me, which I don’t really care if you do or don’t, I have to replace these cans.”

Without letting him speak, you turn on a heel and stomp out of the aisle, leaving him in dumbfounded silence. What the hell was your problem?

The next time he sees you, it’s without you knowing.

It’s been a few days since what happened in the grocery store, and frankly he’d be fine with never seeing your face again. Somebody so filled with negativity and hatred for others for no reason…He doesn’t like people like that. He’s glad he’ll never see you again.

(Except he does.)

He hears a scream before he sees the blur of a person being tossed out onto the sidewalk a few houses down from where he’s standing. He almost runs over to help until another human shows up. They step out onto the steps angrily, if their rigid posture and antagonistic stance is any factor.

“Get the fuck out, you waste of space. Don’t even know why I bothered with you. You’re nothing but shit.” They spit out.

“Nonono, no please, I’ll be better, don’t do this please–” The voice is so full of fear and regret, and it’s so familiar. He knows that voice. It stirs a forgotten anger in his chest, and finally he registers that it’s you, the human from the grocery store.

Your clothes are ripped in places, there’s bruises all over your arms, the shirt you have on is riding up and showing off even more bruises on your back and sides. Your knees are scuffed from your fall, and you’re barely keeping your torso up off the ground. Your form is shaking, soft sobs emitting from your mouth. What a moment to be observing you. To avoid being seen, he ducks behind a nearby trashcan.

“You were lucky, you had me to love you! I’m probably the only person on this Earth left that actually gives a fuck about you! None of your friends or your family actually care, they’re faking it!” The human on the steps barks, and he notices a glint from their hand. They throw it in your direction, and the bottle shatters on the ground a few feet away from you, pieces scattering all over the pavement. “Get the hell out of here, you damn slut!”

The human on the steps goes back into the house and throws out a bag of clothes before slamming the door. Sans turns away from the scene, expression a mixture of shock and confusion. He has no idea what to think. Obviously, the dude that just kicked you out is an asshat, but did you deserve it? He’s not the kind of guy to wish pain or suffering on anybody else, so no, he supposes you don’t. He goes to pick himself up off the ground.

Except you pass by. You notice him there. It’s silent for one scarily long moment.

“How much of that did you see?” You inquire roughly, voice cracked from crying. A pang of pity ripples through his SOUL.

“…all of it.”

Your face is unreadable, you just grip the bag you have a little harder. It’s plastic, so your fingers sink into the material like clay. “…Fuck off.”

He looks up at you in surprise. “what?”

“I said fuck off.” You hiss, your glare piercing. “Want to know why I got kicked out? One of the cans I brought home from the store, that your idiot brother made me drop? It was dented. So fuck you, fuck your brother, fuck everything.” You grit your teeth and march off, pulling the bag over your shoulder.

He scrambles up and after you, though a tiny inner voice questions his motives. What is he gonna do? You obviously don’t want to see him, your little proclamation proved so, so why is he chasing you? He squashes down the thought, unsure if he wants to know why.

“look, kid, i’m sorry.” He skids in front of them, chest heaving with the extra effort he put into catching up with them. “i don’t understand your attitude, or why you act the way you do, but acting that way isn’t going to change anything.”

“You know nothing about me, why the hell are you trying to do here?” You snap, dropping your bag. Despite being bloody and scratched and obviously injured, you still stand as if you’re super girl about to face off with her greatest enemy yet. 

“i have no idea. i don’t really know.” He almost whispers it, because he doesn’t really know what he’s doing, or why. “but i don’t want to be the reason you hate the world so much. at least let me help you find a place to stay for a bit.”

Your mouth twists, and a range of emotions flip through your face: confusion, anger, sorrow, and finally it stops on that flat mask you had on. “..Okay, fine.”

He breathes out a sigh of relief.

He finds you a hotel to stay in, and while he wouldn’t usually pay for a stranger’s stay, he does for you. Seeing the person you had to deal with, the way they treated you…Something told him that wasn’t the only time they treated you badly. That’s a scary situation to think about, so of course you would be bitter and angry. He pays for a week, hoping it’s enough time for you to figure out what you need to do or for you to get a job.

He escorts you to your room, and it’s quiet but it isn’t uncomfortable. You’ve been through a lot, he guesses, so talking about it right now would be a little much. Instead, as you both reach your room, he asks to come in for a moment.

Puzzled, you agree, and let him in. It’s a small room, with a dresser pushed against the wall adjacent to the doorway, a lamp in the corner, and a bed opposite the dresser. Another door is in the far corner, which Sans assumes is the bathroom. There’s a table beside the bed, and on it is a pad with paper and a pen.

He picks them both off and scrawls his name and number on it, ripping off the page and giving it to you. “the dude that kicked you out looks like another bad time waiting to happen, so if he shows up here, don’t be afraid to call me, ok?” 

The hand that takes the paper is a little shaky. Your eyes skim over the words written, and the corner of your mouth quirks. “’Sans’? Like the font?”

He shrugs. “i get that a lot. anyways, i need to get back, paps is worried probably.” He points to the paper in your hand, shooting you a reassuring smile. “remember, dude’s a bad time. call me if he comes back. or call if you need help in general. seeya.”

With a blip, he’s gone, and you stare at the space (now replaced with air) he was just in. The most dumbfounded look creases your brow.

“…What the fuck did he just do?!”

Funnily enough, after the incident, he cannot stop thinking about you. He passes the place you used to live every day, and when he does he wonders if you’re okay. He’d check on you, but he did say that if you had a problem to call him. So he leaves the situation be, letting it be in your ballpark. If you need him there, you’ll call.

It’s been a long day, so he decides to go to Grillby’s for some ketchup and conversation. It’s been a while, and he hasn’t visited the surface expansion of Grillby’s very much, so he should fix that.

He teleports just outside the entrance and strolls in to a chorus of greeting from the regulars. Doggo, Greater Dog, and Lesser Dog are wrapped up in a game of poker, with Dogamy and Dogaressa watching on the side and holding each other. There’s a couple humans hanging around, along with a few monsters that didn’t usually frequent the establishment underground milling about. He waddles to the bar and hops into a bar stool, leaning on the counter and sighing, eyes shut.

“heya grillbz, what’s cookin’ good lookin’?”

A snort is his answer, but it sounds nothing like his favorite fire elemental.

He opens up an eye to see you, clad in a button up dress shirt with black slacks, an apron tied around your neck and waist. You look nothing like you did that night, which relieves him so much. There’s a hit of yellow and purple on your hands from the bruises you sustained, he notices, as you clean out a glass with a towel. Your nose is scrunched up from the bad joke he made, a small smile lighting up your face and causing a soft hue of blue to blossom on his face. 

“kid? that’s you?” He asks, opening his eyes fully, now very alert. 

“’Kid’ is not my name, but yeah, it’s me.” You also throw in your name, since you’ve neglected to tell him. Wow, your demeanor has changed completely since the grocery store fiasco, and it’s such a breath of fresh air. It’s nice to see you smile, even if it is a smug smirk.

“well damn, you clean up nice. how ya been doin’? i’m assumin’ the guy hasn’t been bothering you?” At the mention of him you tense, which leads him to backpedal, “wait, shit, sorry–”

“It’s fine! It’s fine.” You cut him off, the smirk having been wiped off your face and replaced with a small frown. “They uh, haven’t been bothering me. Haven’t heard a word from them since what happened.”

He relaxes at this. “good, good.” He breathes, slumping against the counter again. 

“…What can I get ya, Sans?” You ask, setting down the glass you were cleaning and propping your arm against the bar, quirking a brow at him. It’s sassy as hell and it isn’t helping that you’re gorgeous.

“your number.” He realizes what he said in the middle of saying it and slams his face into his palm as you laugh. “…i am so sorry. i’m used to crackin’ jokes like this with grillby.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. What do you really want, though?”

Bless you and your nerves of steel. “uh, bottle of ketchup.”

An incredulous look crosses your face, but you grab one and slide it to him anyways. He twists off the cap and tips it back, almost spitting it out with laughter when you choke.

“Sans, the fuck?!” You stammer, and he wishes he could take a picture of your face because it’s so priceless. Maybe your nerves aren’t as solid as he thought.

If somebody told him six months ago that he’d fall head over heels in love with a human, and a human that initially hated his innocent soul of a brother no less, he’d laugh and call them crazy.

Thinking about it now, it’s not as crazy as it seemed. 

Because with every laugh and smile he gets from you, his SOUL thuds a little more forcefully in his chest, his face a touch blue-r, and he finds himself trying so hard to get them out of you that he doesn’t notice how deep he’s getting into this.

He doesn’t notice until his brother does.

“goin’ to grillby’s, want me to bring you back somethin’ paps?” He asks, sticking his head into the kitchen. Papyrus isn’t as oblivious as everyone believes him to be, and he proves it now as he smiles knowingly at his older brother, which only causes said brother to raise a brow bone in silent question.

“BROTHER, YOU SEEM TO BE GOING TO GRILLBY’S A LOT IN THESE PAST FEW MONTHS.” Papyrus stops stirring the pot of noodles he’s attending to on the stove to look at his brother. He notices, but it’s not like Sans makes an effort to hide it. He can see it in the way that he smiles sometimes when he gets a text from you, or how excited he is when he knows he’s about to see you.

He know what Sans looks like when he’s obsessed about something, or worried, or determined. Papyrus thought he’d seen it all. You’ve brought out a different side of him that Papyrus loves to see, because he look so happy nowadays.

“yeah, so? i used to go everyday when we were underground.”

“SANS, DEAR BROTHER, NOTHING EVADES THE WATCHFUL EYE OF THE GREAT PAPYRUS!” He exclaims triumphantly, pulling out his best smile. “…I am happy for you, Sans. I hope you bring them by soon to introduce them to me, because I would like to thank the person who has given you so much joy.”

It’s a rarity when Papyrus speaks in a regular volume of voice, and it shocks Sans to his core. “whaddya mean, pap?”

Papyrus laughs, turning back to his pot. “OH BROTHER, DON’T TELL ME YOU HAVEN’T NOTICED!”

“im-pasta-ble, i notice everything.” Sans’ smile turns wicked as Papyrus screeches out a warning to him and then he blips out of the way of the taller’s wooden ladle being thrown at him.

It’s become a habit, for him to watch you as you work. The way you move around the tables at the restaurant, the polite smile you give to the customers and the drastically different smirk you send him when he tosses out a pun, the lingering touch between you two when you give him a ketchup bottle. 

It kills him, in a way, because he knows what he’s feeling. He knows very well what this feeling is. His love life isn’t a very active one, but he does remember a few years back when he used to have a crush on Toriel, and this feels like that except new. It’s no longer a nice thought, but a fire that consumes his thoughts whenever he sees you. It’s not the heat of the blush on his face, it’s the ghostly imprint that your fingers leave on his. His SOUL doesn’t flutter, it beats purposefully. He knows what this is.

However, it’s not him that says or does anything about it.

As your shift comes to a close and he prepares to leave, you stop him. The place is almost empty, just a couple people wrapping up their meals or nursing their last drink. You look nervous, teeth gnawing on your bottom lip.

“what’s up?” He asks, and he almost jumps when you set a hand on ones of his, the one still on the counter top.

“Uh…There uh– There must be something wrong with my eyes, be-because uh–” You clear your throat, and he’s never seen your face go so red, wow. “Because I can’t take them off you?…”

He pauses for a moment before the statement processes through his head and his face goes full cerulean. “uuuuuuhh….”

“What…What I’m trying to say– Is it hot in here? Jeeze.” You tug at your collar, smiling sheepishly. “But uh. I was wondering if maybe you’d like to, I dunno, go see a movie? Or go somewhere for coffee? I’m sorry, I just really, really like you and I couldn’t be quiet about it anymore–”

You stop when you notice his expression. The poor skeleton’s face is completely blue, and his pupils have morphed into tiny hearts. He grabs your hand gently, and before he can chicken out he sputters out a reply.

“yes, hell yes. i’ll uh, i’ll text you later?”

It’s take a moment to sink in but when it does you smile so wide that it triggers his own. “Yeah! That’s cool! I’ll uh, be waiting? Yeah.”

Reluctantly he lets go of your hand and waves with his other, before disappearing and reappearing at the entrance of the inside of his home. 

You asked him out. You asked him out. He’s so giddy, he struts farther into the house and laughs, and it’s such a happy sound. He’s never heard such a sound come out of his body.

“YOU SOUND PLEASED.” Papyrus notes from his spot on the couch in the living room, wherein he’s doing some sort of human exercise program. Sans just beams in reply, hopping up the stairs two at a time to get to his room. “WHAT’S HAPPENED?”

Papyrus knows. He just wants to hear Sans say it.

“bringing them over later this week. you’ll see.”

Scars

Paring: SugaxReader

Genre: Soulmate!AU | Angst, a little Fluff

Wordcount: 3.4k

Originally posted by bangtanbtsmut

This gif is so cute kill me.

I’ve wanted to write a Soulmate!AU for so long and well here it is, my blood, sweat and tears honestly :’) I hope you like it.

Trigger Warning: Mentions of self-harm.

Keep reading

Padme, Star Wars, and Feminism

The way TCW and Forces of Destiny handles Padme’s character is quite distressing to me. She is far too frequently seen doing things that her character dislikes. More significantly, these qualities are emphasized. Padme says in TPM that she “hates fighting,” and she  will “not condone a course of action that will lead us to war.” In AotC, she charges off to rescue Obi-Wan, and hopefully to find a “diplomatic solution.” In RotS, her first instinct, to avoid open rebellion if she can, is to oust Palpatine from office through political force. Padme is more than capable of handling herself in a fight, of course, but she tries to avoid them whenever possible. In spite of this, we see her fighting skills, which she would rather not have to use, repeatedly emphasized, and rarely see her political skill being well-portrayed, even though this is what she prides herself in. (It’s like showing Anakin constantly negotiating treaties, or protecting politicians he loathes,  when he’d rather be out piloting a starfighter given that that’s where his talents and interests lie.) The show doesn’t even bother to point out that Padme would rather not be fighting at all. 

When Padme’s politics is shown in the TCW episodes, (it isn’t in Force of Destiny really), it is undermined by Clovis/Anakin dynamics, or a blaster shooting assassination scene is inserted into it somewhere. Never is Padme shown to be the talented and principled politician without her story being undermined in someway. It is possible to write good stories about political intrigue, but it is never done in either of the cartoon series, rather it is lost or diminished in favour of forced, (often very forced), relationship drama and/or action. In essence, what makes this character special is shoved to the side. (You know that a woman’s story not being only about a man is supposed to be a quality of the Bechdel test…) 

Still, if they must have fight scenes, it would be lovely if they would inject some realism into them. In AotC, Padme is almost assassinated, and in the attempt, she says that “two of my bodyguards and six others were ruthlessly and senselessly murdered.” This makes sense. Padme is a high-profile political figure, a royal senator, she is bound to have a good security detail. She always, in the movies, is shown to have a chief of security, Panaka or Typho, and at least 3 handmaidens with her. This is realistic and understandable. This isn’t shown in the TCW or FoD episodes. In the latter there is nothing, and in the former, Teckla, is only mentioned in two. When she is mentioned, she is mentioned for emotional impact, by showing how the war is affecting the citizens of the Republic, and by dying in the Rise of Clovis arc. Padme calls Teckla her “aid,” but Teckla is never seen aiding her, (except during the arc where she conveniently dies). This runs counter to the fact that Padme is noted for using decoys, and having handmaidens guarding her at all times. These wonderful characters and their wonderful dynamic with Padme are lost in favour of having Padme fight solo, or with another Jedi, or partner in crime. The cunning tactics of her and her handmaidens is never properly shown. It is both unrealistic and a disservice to her character. Seriously, she is being portrayed as a high-profile senator with next to no security detail, (Typho is cameod three times, I think), in the middle of an extremely unstable period of the Republic. She goes into war-zones, and dangerous negotiations alone, and apparently Typho just lets her. Well, that’s believable…. (Where was that passive behaviour in AotC?) 

Padme is the only major female character in the Star Wars Universe who is not initially portrayed as being a soldier on a battlefront, or a rebel in a major conflict. However, in the interests of making her seem like a “strong” character, they undermine what makes her special and portray her in the same manner as the others. Padme is special, because she is the person who tried to ensure that Ahsoka, Leia, Rey, and Jyn would never have to fight in the conflicts that they did. She believed that violence was a last resort and worked hard to prevent it which is beyond admirable. Nevertheless, this is not portrayed, or is undermined, because, for whatever reason, Disney wants to show that unless you’re a bad-ass warrior you’re not someone to look up to. I find that demeaning and detrimental. I also dislike that that is, so far as I can tell anyway, also the reason that they got rid of the handmaidens, because if you are “strong” you must be able to handle things alone. What a toxic message to send to children. Padme relying on her handmaiden friends and accomplices, and having a sensible support group, might have been the better message there. In any case, I appreciate that Disney is trying, it’s better than nothing at all, but I feel they’ve missed the mark. They only show one kind of strength, and expect all girls to resonate with it.

@padawanlost, this is the draft that I was telling you about. ;)

Nathan Prescott x Fem!Reader ~ Colors

Originally posted by chronosphere-child

The smoke lingers in the air only for a short moment before the wind blows the grey cloud away. Absently you wipe away the ash, which is falling on your knee from the cigarette that dangles dangerously between your lips.

A loud noise brings you back into the reality. One of the new kids probably lost a bet and had to activate the fire alarm. It happens quite often.  

The burning end of your cigarette lights once more as you inhale the smoke. You are not even thinking about leaving your favorite spot. The stairs in front of the back door of the school is a lonely place. Not even Samuel comes back here very often. It’s your time to be alone for a bit… until yet.

The door gets pushed open roughly. You are not fast enough to make space for the hurried visitor. The person bumps into you. “Hey!”, you exclaim extremely pissed, but your next words get stuck in your throat.  

Just a few inches away lies a gun on the stairs. A real weapon on the campus. Without a word the boy picks up the gun to shove it back into the safety of his red jacket. Clear blue eyes meet your [E/C] ones. You notice no color in them. Not a sign that these orbs are actually alive. Not a single feeling in them except for pure panic. Just dead blue eyes.

Neither of you says a word, but both of you know you saw the gun. “Want to take a puff?”, you break the ice cold silence, while you hold out your cigarette for the boy to grab. Nathan clenches his hands even tighter into fists. His knuckles are completely white by now.

“Cat got your tongue? … Or is the infamous Nathan Prescott afraid of smoking?”, a slight smirk appears on your lips matching to your mocking tone. “I don’t even know you!”, his mind is still racing, which results in being unable to form more than a single stupid sentence.

Your challenging pose triggers his arrogance. Nathan takes the cigarette with his free hand. Like you a few moments ago he releases a cold grey cloud. The two of you stare at each other through the smoky air, which makes the situation a bit mysterious. You are still waiting for a warning or his usual “I will sue you”-line, but after his first puff he seems more relaxed.

At least that’s what his dead blue eyes tell you. “That’s not a cigarette”, Nathan states after another moment. You give him a slight shrug, “I never said it’s one.” He doesn’t make attempts to give you back your Mary Jane.  

“You know you are chilled more fun, Prescott”, you are ready to continue with your probably shitty day. Nate grabs your arm to stop you from walking away, “If you say a word about what you saw I …” Bored you roll your eyes and interrupt him, “You’ll sue me and my family. Get yourself a few new lines, Prescott.” Matching to your sarcasm you take back your “cigarette”. It finds its old spot between your lips as you make your way back to your dorm.  

Of course you can feel his blue eyes on you. It’s probably the first time someone spoke back to him like you just did. To be honest you never saw such lifeless eyes. Somehow you want to fill them with colors and emotions. Even if you are not sure Nathan makes it to the day he gets twenty years old with this dangerous lifestyle of his. Such a shame for those beautiful but dead blue eyes…


Nathan grabs the strap of his camera tighter. Since three people saw him with a gun his mind is racing nonstop. He almost feels the pressure on his shoulders. It’s like a weight that drags him down into the darkness.

Suddenly Nathan stops mid-step as something or better said someone catches his full attention. You are lying on the grass with your own camera in your hands. The light shines on your [H/C] hair in a certain way that lures him in. Nate never payed attention to colors and light in pictures, but right now he feels inspired. There is a need to freeze time with help of a photo. Not his usual black white ones. A picture that lives because of the colors.

Without noticing Nathan comes closer until you notice his presence. “Prescott”, you greet him still focused on your camera. “[L/N]”, he responses in the same tone. Not even a bit surprised you raise your head to see what he wants. The sunlight blinds you for a second so you shield your eyes with your hands to get a better look at him.

It might be the light but he seems more alive for a second. “You did your research. Good but not necessary. I didn’t say a word to anyone about your… toy”, you get back to your work taking more pictures. For a brief moment anger washes over Nathan. Why does his reputation keep haunting him? He is way more than this … at least he was once more than his reputation, but that’s a long time ago.

Insecure Nate wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans. His head doesn’t work the way it used to do. Not a single word comes over his lips. “You are still here, Prescott…”, you comment his stand by modus amused. Only one glimpse at his face tells you to keep your sarcasm low.

Nathan, who rules the whole Blackwell Academy and half of Arcadia Bay, stands in front of you like a lost puppy. And that’s pretty close to how he feels.  

“Make yourself comfortable. Take a puff. You know, chilled more fun”, you give him your Mary Jane, while you release a last grey cloud of smoke. Uncertain about his decision Nate sits down an arm length away from you. “I don’t bite, Prescott”, he places his camera between you and him to reduce the distance. It’s just a little move and still he feels a bit closer to you.

Neither of you disturbs the beautiful silence with lame small talk. The sounds of the nature mixed with the clicks of your camera is exactly what he needs right now. Nothing bothers him. Not even a single bad thought tortures him. His reputation stays away. His family stays away. Everything is perfect even if it’s just a beautiful illusion for a few moments.

Like you two have done this before you hold out your hand towards him and Nate gives you back the Mary Jane. Out of the corner of his eyes he watches your movements closely. The cigarette dangles between your lips. The smoke that dances around your face in a perfect way. There is nothing you do differently and still your grey cloud of smoke seems more alive than his whole body.

“So, Marijuana”, Nate states before he could hold himself back. “Yup, keeps my sick mind sane. Sometimes I feel like an overflowing sink, but with drugs I’m just a colorful sunrise”, you explain as you lay aside your camera. It’s an unusual explanation, but Nate understands every word you say. Your Marijuana reminds him of his blue pills he takes sometimes to turn off his mind.

Adrenaline rushes through his veins by now. All the time he wished for someone who understands what he is going through. A person who looks behind his reputation and his bad poker face. Excited Nathan points at your camera, “I saw a few of your pictures. They are not bad.” And as soon as his self-esteem got pushed it’s beaten down again.

You literally can see how Nathan realizes what he said a second ago. There is this pure panic in his eyes again. At least you know what he tried to say, “Well, thank you. Yours are not bad either… Just a bit colorless. Don’t get me wrong. I love black and white pictures, but the world is already grey enough. The most people can’t see the colors around them anymore.”  

Nathan’s relieved next words get stuck in his throat as snow starts to fall. “Oh my god! Is that really happening?”, you hold out your hand to catch one of the snowflakes. It’s still pretty warm so why is it snowing? “Let’s take a selfie together to prove what we just saw!”, you exclaim excited like a child, while you grab your camera.  

You press your shoulder against his to get both of you onto one picture. Nathan isn’t even near to being ready for a selfie. Your energy and spontaneous way overwhelms him a bit … but in a good way. The picture shows you smiling and Nate being confused.  

“Wow, handsome”, you tease him smirking, which makes him blush for a brief moment. “You know; you are not even close to the things people say about you. The most people just don’t you know yet. Hell, you are quite nice … for a Prescott”, you say honestly as you take more pictures of the snowfall.

Nathan’s heart skips a beat just to continue to beat as twice as fast than before. He always was a book with a big unbreakable lock, but you are tearing through his pages and his ink without trouble and fear of what you might find between the lines. You don’t care about the things he has done or the status of his family. A day ago you saw him with an effing gun and still say he’s quite nice. How is that even possible?

Nate opens his mouth to reply also something hopefully nice as someone calls his name. Victoria waves her arm to tell him they have places to be. And the sad reality caught him again in its darkness. A quiet sigh comes over his lips, while he turns his head to face you once more.  

In the meantime, you got your bag and make your way towards the girl dorms. Against your sake you throw a last glance over your shoulder just to find Nathan already looking at you. The lifeless cloud lures him in so you give him your best smile.  

“Stay strong, Prescott.” It won’t be easy to bring him back on track, but he is worth the try…


“You are hanging out with [Y/N]?”, Victoria states the obvious surprised. “Yeah, got a problem with that?”, Nathan replies not as rough as he wished for. “Actually yes”, another voice behind them joins the conversation without their permission.  

David Madson crosses his arms as the two students turn around to face the security guard. “I don’t care about your opinion”, Nate is still high on the colors you spread in your near. Everything inside of him screams for inner peace and silence.  

“Oh, you will, boy. You are not going to lay a single finger on [Y/N]. She is a lovely girl with the power to do great things in her future, while your presence is just like poison. Killing everything nice in a person. You are toxic and not good for her”, David states fuming. You remind him of Chloe and he will do everything it costs to keep you safe from people like Nathan.

Victoria looks at said boy waiting for him to defend himself. There is nothing. It scares Nate how true David’s words are. He only is going to dull your sparkle and wash away your colors. “You are crazy, old man. Let’s go, Nate”, Victoria just drags him with her towards the halls of Blackwell. “I will keep an eye on you, Prescott”, David yells after them.

His words keep playing in Nathan’s head over and over again. They ignite his doubts and those bad thoughts to torture him again. “What’s wrong with you? Are you scared of this wannabe security guard? Your father will sue him and his whole family until there is nothing left of them!”  

Nathan doesn’t even listen to Victoria anymore. He needs to stay away from you, but how will he manage that?


Matching to the grey sky a few raindrops fall to the ground. The whole scenery is just as depressing as the fact that Kate tries to take her life. “No! Kate!”, you exclaim on the brink of tears. Your heart clenches painfully at the sight of your long-term friend.

She stands on the edge of the rooftop of the Prescott Dormitory. Her arms stretched out ready to jump into the emptiness. Fear paralyzes you completely. Not a single fiber of your body moves to safe Kate from her destiny.  

“Do a backflip!”, one of the students yell through the thick tension you can almost grab with your hands. It snaps you out of your helplessness. Tears run down your cheeks as you hit Victoria’s cellphone out of her hand. The anger wells in you like a volcano. “Are you fucking delirious? That’s a brand new…”, she starts to rant about your action.

“Are you even human?! There is a girl wanting to taker her life because of all of you!”, no one can feel the pain in your chest. Neither the fear to lose someone you are really close to. It tears Nathan apart to see you like this.

A crying mess and still perfect in every way fighting for the things you believe in. Victoria keeps arguing about her phone, while your eyes are glued to the rooftop. There is still hope for a miracle. No one got your back. No one keeps you company as you go through hell right now.

Nathan gives himself a mentally push to stand by your side. That’s his fault. All of this chaos came alive through his hands. Kate attempting a suicide. You crying your eyes out. David was right all along. His presence is like poison. His touch is toxic. It kills everything around him. He is no good. Especially for you…

Nathan takes your hand softly in his to let you know you are not alone. Everyone can see what he just did, but he doesn’t care anymore. Even Victoria stops her hate parade. You give his surprisingly warm hand a slight squeeze. It’s more than a lame “I appreciate that”. You don’t want to admit it, but you need him right here, right now.

Little do you know he needs you as much as you need him. You keep the bad thoughts and his doubts away. Nathan really tried to avoid you, but something keeps pulling him towards you over and over again. He’s like a moth drawn to the flame. You two smoked now and then together the last few days. It’s not really hanging out together, but he wished it would be more than that.

You snap Nate out of his thoughts as you let go of his hand. Relieved but still crying you bury your face in his shirt. Max talked Kate out of taking her life. It doesn’t matter it wasn’t you, her best and probably only friend. Kate’s alive … for now.

Nathan wraps you up tightly in his arms. “It’s okay. It’s over”, he isn’t the best at comforting, but at least he tries. And suddenly Nate is the colorful one of you two. The optimist hanging onto life. “Prescott! Into my office”, Principle Wells disturbs your little moment. Nathan’s blue eyes meet your concerned [E/C] ones.  

“You are in trouble, right?”, you can see it clearly in them. His doubts, his panic, his bad conscious. He releases you to follow Well’s order, “I’m never in trouble.” Oh, he is. And now you are pulled apart at the seams. Do you want your old life, which is Kate coming down from the roof, or your new life, which is Nathan who transformed from the villain to your shining knight in armor.

Your heart is torn so badly. Kate said all along he isn’t good for you. But what are you supposed to do?!


Sighing you inhale the smoke like your life depends on it and somehow it does right now. You let fill up your lungs with the grey cloud, while your mind gets knocked out by the drug. You are not allowed to smoke in the dorms, but who cares?  

A light knock catches you off guard. For a second you hope it’s Kate even if a part of you know it can’t be your friend. She is in a hospital hopefully getting better so she can leave soon. As you make your way towards the door you give the still white canvas a kick. Of course your creativity and inspiration leave you on your own when you need them most to distract your sick mind. That’s it. Your own personal chaos.  

“Prescott”, you exclaim surprised. “Hey… uh… I just wanted to check on you”, he gives you a slight smile you have never seen before on him. You can tell it’s honest. Nathan cares about you probably more he wants to admit.  

“Okay, I guess. Thanks for asking”, you step aside so he can come in. Nate accepts your offer and looks around taking in every little detail that tells him more about you. “Are you in trouble?”, you won’t beat around the bushes anymore. You want answers. Now. Nathan shrugs as he steps over the canvas that still lies untouched on the floor. “Tell me the truth”, you grab his hand to get his full attention, “I can see it in your eyes.”

Nathan escapes your grip roughly, “Do not analyze me! … Please.” He starts yelling, but ends up whispering the last word in a plead. An ice cold silence appears for a few moments. You pushed him to the limit what the people around him always do. It shows you how close to the edge he is.

“Is Kate … alright?”, he tries desperately to keep going the conversation. Nathan wants to make sure he didn’t destroy everything between you two. “Uh… I don’t know. She didn’t want to see me, but she is alive. That matters, right?”, you can’t fool him with your faked smile. Nathan already can tell the difference between them. Both of you know Kate rejected you because of him.  

The pure sadness in your eyes kills him inside. That’s more torturing than his doubts screaming at him in his head in this moment.  

You are no good for her. You are poison. You kill everything around you. Your touch is toxic. You will drag her with you into the darkness. You know that…

Nathan wraps you up in his arms as a single tear escapes your eye. You cling onto him for your dear life. To hold you in his arms feels so wrong and right at the same time. These unknown feelings you trigger in his chest are addictive. He doesn’t want to live without them anymore and still…

You lied. You lied all of your life and you dragging an innocent person with you. You will go down with your mask of lies. First suspended, then jail and death will be your last station. You can’t hide this side of yours forever. [Y/N] will find it and leave you because you are truly a monster.

“Nathan?”, you snap him out of his pretty dark thoughts again. The way your [E/C] eyes look into his soul makes him feel vulnerable. It’s almost like you can see into his soul. To your surprise he leans forwards to press a soft kiss on your forehead. “I’m sorry”, Nate means every word. “There is no need to apologize”, you reply slightly smiling. Oh, there is. You just don’t know it yet.

Nathan presses his lips into a thin line as you turn around to get your cigarette from the ashtray. It’s for sure he can’t go on like this forever. One day he is going to explode and spill every single secret he keeps. But for now he just wants to enjoy the time you two have left.

“I haven’t eaten in a while. Want to go the Two Wales Diner?”, you suggest wanting to get out of the dormitory for a bit. Your room seems like a prison cell showing every single memory you want to forget right now. “Yes… Uh… Here”, Nate puts his red jacket over your shoulders. You mumble a shy “Thank you” as he takes your hand in his like it always belonged there.

A few of the students stop for a second and stare at you two walking through the hallways holding hands. Nathan isn’t really the person of showing his feelings openly, but with you it’s different. He wants you to be part of his life and he wants everyone to know that. Your presence by his side pushes his self-esteem so extremely. Nate never felt that perfectly fine before without taking his meds.  

“What a beautiful sight! Mrs. [L/N] and Mr. Prescott together”, both of you stop immediately. Of course you recognize the voice of your teacher Mr. Jefferson. Nathan’s whole body stiffens and he gives your hand almost a painfully squeeze.  

“I need to speak with you, Mr. Prescott. Your last work was … not what I expected of you”, Jefferson doesn’t wait for an answer and walks a few steps away. There is an unspoken order Nathan should follow him. “Go to your dorm and stay in there”, he avoids to look into your eyes. You would see sheer panic in them. You don’t question his plead because of his shaking voice. Something is up and he doesn’t want to involve you.

Without looking back over his shoulder Nathan catches up to Mr. Jefferson. His happiness turned into a cold fist of panic clenching his heart together in its iron grip. “So, [Y/N]. I never thought of her to be our next guest in the Dark Room”, Mark takes his glasses of to clean them.  

“No! Please!”, Nate exclaims a bit too loud for Jefferson’s taste. The boy can feel how he traps himself in the net of his teacher. “Oh, you like her. That’s surprising me now”, Mark enjoys the fear in his widened blue eyes. Another mistake on Nathan’s list. “The Vortex Club plans a party. I want to see both of you there. You know the routine”, Jefferson orders without a trace of mercy and usually he gets what he want.  

“Have a good day, Nathan”, Mr. Jefferson leaves pleased with the outcome of this conversation. Nate feels how his mind completely shuts down as he realizes what he has done to you. He made the only person that genuinely cares for him to Mark’s prey. You are in serious danger.

That’s your fault. You are no good for her.

Tears start to pool in his eyes as he runs his fingers through his hair. No matter how he hard he thinks there is only one way to keep you safe. It’s going to rip him apart. It will turn his heart to stone, but it needs to be done.

“I’m sorry”, a single tear runs over his cheek.


It costs all your courage to raise your shaking arm. The light knock on the door keeps repeating in your head. There is an uneasy feeling in your stomach. Panic? Maybe. You haven’t heard from Nathan for hours since he sent you back to your dorm. And by now your heart tries to break through your ribcage to be free for the first time.

After an eternity Nate opens the door finally to reveal the mess he has become. His room is completely dark. All the blinds are closed, while the air is smoky. “[Y/N] …”, there is so much desire in his tired voice, but his once more dead blue eyes say something different. His mind is made up, but his body declines his decision. Now he wages a fight behind his mask.

“Is… everything okay? I was waiting for you and … I’m concerned. No, that’s not true. I’m scared”, you stumble over your own words. Nathan almost takes a step forward to wrap you up in his arms, but only releases a loud sigh.  

“Okay, there is something I need to tell you. I was only playing with you. Hayden and me had a bet running. I couldn’t know you would fall for me and clinging on me like your life depends on it. I have a reputation to keep so could you just stay away from me? It’s like one of your stupid colorful pictures. I was red. You are blue. Together we are purple. And know what? I hate fucking purple”, every word he says rips your heart slowly apart. Piece by piece.  

Against your sake tears escape your eyes. You don’t want to cry in front of him like a lovesick fool, but your body betrays you. “Nathan”, between the rushed breaths you manage to say his name hoping to change his mind. “Don’t make a scene now, [L/N]”, you can’t see how he clenches his hands into fists. Oh, how lovely it would be to punch himself right now.

“Nathan”, you try your luck again not knowing how close you are to tearing through his walls. “Leave. It’s better for you”, with that Nate closes the door. The wood isn’t thick enough so he can hear you crying for a few moments. That’s probably the most heartbreaking sound he has ever heard.  

Nathan rests his forehead against the cold door. Why can’t he do one single thing in his life right? With you he had everything and now he is on his own again. His only partner by his side is his bad conscious. He hurt himself with hurting you so badly.

“Nathan? You forgot your jacket on the ground”, Hayden knocks for a moment, but gives up easily as Nate doesn’t answer. You left it behind like he did it with you. He doesn’t want to get his jacket back, which has your scent on it probably. Suddenly all his walls break and Nathan curls up in a ball on the floor to cry his eyes out.  

Behind the blinds occurs the eclipse telling about the danger that comes towards Arcadia Bay.


“I’m so ready for the End of the World Party tonight. I can’t even decide what I should wear”, Victoria exclaims excited as she texts someone else at the same time. Nathan only nods his head hoping it would be enough answer for her. It’s no secret how heartbroken he is. The last few days he just hid himself in his room.

He is tired of keeping up his mask of lies. The sadness he bears in his heart drags him down. Even farther he ever was before. “Come on, Nate. You are no fun at all”, Vic notices his lack of attention. He wants to reply something as his mind shuts completely down.

There you are chasing down a blue butterfly with your camera in your hands. A slight smile appears on his lips taking in every move you make. He notices that you are not as colorful as usual. A cloud of sadness floats around you. It’s clearly to see you are heartbroken too.

“Can you believe it? [Y/N] almost begged that she can come to the Vortex party without being a member. So pathetic”, Victoria rolls her eyes confidently. Nathan’s smile fades away immediately, “What?! When?!” He grabs Vic’s arm desperate for the information.

“Chill down, Nate. She asked me yesterday, but I said no. Who does [Y/N] think she is?”, she replies escaping his iron grip. “But you are in, right?” The world around him starts to spin. His mind races and is blank at the same time. You are still in danger even if he stays away from you. Jefferson took a liking in you. He will do everything it takes to get what he wants.

“[Y/N] is not allowed on this party, okay? Tell everyone so she really has no chance to come. I don’t want to see her there”, panic rushes through his veins. Finally, Victoria lays her phone aside to look at him, “I know you two had something for a very short time – just to mention, but isn’t that a bit too dramatic? … Oh man, she really broke your heart.”

Nathan gets up from his spot on one of the picnic tables to pace around like a wild animal. “No, I fucked up this time. It’s my fault.” Vic furrows her eyebrows confused. He never admitted one of his mistakes so why now?  

“You are acting really weird, Nathan”, she says, but doesn’t get a reaction from him. “I need to sort a few things out. I’m back for the party”, Nathan runs towards his car without a goodbye. Victoria crosses her arms fuming he cares more about you than for her. She is still his best friend after the two went through together.  

“Hey, [L/N]! Still want to go to the Vortex party?”


“God, I’m so sorry”, Nathan whispers to himself, while running his fingers through his hair nonstop. He tried everything he can think of to keep Jefferson away from you. He begged, offered money from his parents, threaten to go to the police. Nothing worked.  

“Everybody hates me. Everybody … even [Y/N]”, he made a lot of mistakes but pushing you away was the worst of them. Somehow Nate always managed to keep his broken world up, but now it’s crashing into thousand tiny pieces, which are burying him underneath them.  

You are worthless. Are you finally accepting it? Took you long enough, Prescott.  

“Shut up! Shut up! … I know, don’t rub salt in my wounds. My life is hell”, Nathan tries to block out the voices in his head, but they keep screaming at him. This will never end. He is a prisoner of his own mind. The other guests of the Diner don’t even pay attention to the broken boy. Exactly like his whole life was.  

“She is better off without me”, is he trying to convince himself or the voices in his head? Nate closes his eyes wishing himself far away from his problems. “Nathan! You are out of your mind again!”, Victoria snaps him out of his thoughts as she sits down on the other side of the table. “The party is in half an hour. You have to be fit for that!”  

For a second he stares at her with his blue eyes, “For getting high I don’t need to be fit. Could you leave me alone?” He buries his face in his hands. “But the Vortex Club got a special guest! You don’t want to have a tripping mind in front of [Y/N]?”

Nathan lowers his hands in slow motion to look at Victoria, “What did you just say?” Maybe his mind plays a prank on him. Maybe all of this is just a super twisted dream. “You are going to clear things out with [Y/N]. Maybe after one or two drinks”, Vic explains her plan to bring you two back together. It’s not her intention to see Nate or you happy.  

“No! She is not coming! I told you!”, anger washes over him as he slams his fist on the table. Victoria isn’t frightened of him anymore when he does this. “Calm down. She probably is not going to show up anyway. That little brat had a nice conversation with Mr. Jefferson. He is worried about her and then they took a walk together”, Nate can see the jealousy in Vic’s eyes. Little does she know what monster Jefferson is. A monster on its hunt.

Without a further word Nathan runs out of the Diner directly towards his car. He plants himself behind the steering wheel as he searches through his pockets for his phone. Just in case he got your number if something like this happens.

A mixture of panic, adrenaline and energy rushes through his veins. It keeps his hands from shaking too much. “[Y/N] here. I can’t answer right now. Leave a message or try it again later. Thanks!” Mumbling a ton of curse words Nate throws his phone on the passengers seat.  

The car’s engine comes a live with a roar. Not caring about the traffic rules Nathan drives like a maniac back to the Blackwell Academy. A lot of students make their way towards the swimming hall where the party is located. He snaps his phone in case you call back before he gets out of his car to look for you. “Nate! The party started already!”, Taylor informs him smiling.  

What if Jefferson got her already?!

Nathan pushes himself to run as fast as possible to the hall. His heart stops for a second. How is he supposed to find you in the chaos of the party?! It’s too full of people and too dark to recognize a single familiar face in a rushed manner.

Nate boxes his way through the crowd as someone puts his hand on his shoulder. “Nathan! Good you are here!”, Hayden yells over the loud music. “Have you seen [Y/N]?!”, his panic grows every second he doesn’t know if you are safe. The already high boy shakes his head.  

On the limit he runs his fingers through his hair. Maybe someone else saw you. But the most people are way too wasted to recognize even their own parents. Suddenly a light beam shows Jefferson in the crowd of celebrating teenagers.  

Nathan knows he’s after him since he declined to drug you for the Dark Room. But as long he is on the party you are still out of his reach. Now it’s a game on time. Who finds you first?

Nate turns back to run to the Prescott Dormitory. You might be there safe in your room, where Jefferson never can’t get you. He’s angry at himself for putting you in such great danger. Breathless he sprints over the campus. Nathan pushes open the doors to the dormitory just to see Max, Chloe and Warren coming directly towards him.

There is not time to deal with them. With his head down Nate tries to get past them. Since he beat Warren up on the parking lot, the boy craves his revenge. “Care to explain, Nathan?”, Max holds out something. “I got no time for that yet”, he replies already caring on with his plan, “Wait! Where you in my room?!”

Before Nathan can take a step closer, Warren headbutts him roughly. Nate tries to grab his gun to scare them way. Unfortunately, Warren is faster than him and kicks the gun out of his hand. “You like hurting people, huh? Like Max! Like Kate! Like me! Like [Y/N]!”, Warren kicks and beats Nathan nonstop.  

“Stop! Please!”, he doesn’t beg for him. Nate thinks he deserves the pain for all the mistakes he has done, but your time is running out. Your life on the edge of danger and it lies in his hands to safe you from Jefferson.  

“No!”, the voice sounds familiar, but through the curtain of pain he can’t connect it to a face. The beating stops finally. A hand strokes his bruised cheek softly as he opens his eyes slowly. “Nathan”, you wipe the blood from his nose away with the sleeve of your shirt, “Oh my god! Are you alright?”

A single tear drops from your eye on his cheek, while he takes your hand in his. “Yes, now is everything alright”, relief washes over him that you are safe … for a while at least. “Come on, we are going to take care of your face. That must hurt”, with your help Nathan gets up from the ground. The pain hits him hard, but it’s not priority yet.  

Nate leans against the wall to take in how much you still care for him even after what he did to you. “We have no time for this. There is so much I have to tell you, but first of all… I love you, [Y/N]. I truly love you and I’m so sorry that I hurt you. I will explain you everything  when we get away from here. It’s not safe. I know you probably hate me, but do you trust me?”, his thumb strokes your knuckles softly.  

Without hesitating you wrap him up in your arms, “I never could hate you, Nathan. I love and trust you, but you have to tell me what’s going on.” Before he can say a word, the doors of the Prescott Dormitory gets pushed open once again.  

“We had a plan, Prescott”, Jefferson shakes his head disappointed. Nate takes your hand in his to drag you along the hallway. “Nathan! You know, you can’t run. I will find you!”, Mark yells after you two preparing his syringe. He will hunt both of you down if it’s necessary.

“Keep running no matter what happens!”, of course you are confused, but you trust him without a doubt. You remember the way you two run. It’s the way directly to the back door of Blackwell. He pushes you firstly out of the door, while he throws a glance over his shoulder. No trace of Jefferson yet, but he won’t give up easily.  

Now you drag Nathan with you towards the parking lot, where both of your cars wait. “There is no way out of this!”, Mark appears out of nowhere and is already too close for your taste. You close the door of your old truck right in time. Jefferson hits his fist against the glass of your window as you start the engine with shaking hands.  

And with that you two are out of his reach. Your heart keeps beating hard against your ribcage. You don’t know where you are driving as long as it far away from Mark Jefferson. Breathlessly Nathan puts his hand on yours. In what fucking chaos you just rushed into?

“We can’t go back, right? So where are we going?”, you break the uncomfortable silence, but your eyes are glued to the street. “A motel for now, I guess. Then we will think about our next steps. I … I have to warn Max. She was onto me and Jefferson. She is probably in danger”, Nate takes out his phone.

“Max, it’s Nathan. I just want to say I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt Kate or Rachel or … I didn’t want to hurt anybody … Everybody used me! Mr. Jefferson was coming for me. I hope all of this shit is over soon…. Watch out, Max. He wants to hurt you next so hurry… Sorry, I’m so sorry”, Nathan tears up between his confession and still you feel the same for him.

You give his hand a slight squeeze to show him he hasn’t to go through this on his own. The rest of the drive you two sit in silence trying to process this hell of a day. You don’t stop at the first motel in the case Jefferson is still hunting the two of you.  

The rain cools down your racing mind as you get out of your old truck. “Do we have even money to pay for a room?”, Nathan grabs your hand softly. It’s like he needs to make sure you are not going to leave him. “I’ve got a credit card. Don’t worry”, he gets out his wallet, while you two make your way towards the motel.  

“Oh, what brings two young people like you out here?”, the old granny behind the check in wants to know. She doesn’t wear glasses so you guess she can’t see Nate’s beaten up face clearly.  

Nathan puts his credit card on the table, “One room… please.” She furrows her eyebrows due to her unanswered question. “We are on a road trip”, you lie to hide the fact you two are on the run and go from your past.

“Oh, in Arcadia Bay is a terrible storm right now. Good, you are here now”, the granny searches for the key for your room. Nathan and you exchange a quick glance. “Have a good night, sweeties!” You follow Nate closely to fall into his arms after you closed the door behind you. Suddenly your mind realizes what the last few hours happened and what consequences are waiting.

“Okay, I want the truth. I don’t care how terrible it is. I want to hear every detail, Nathan”, you mumble into his shirt close to cry your eyes out. He sits down on the big bed and pats the place next to him. “It’s a long story…”

He tells you the whole story of how this chaos started. He spills all of his secrets. All of his mistakes. All of the trouble he caused. He lines up every flaw of his. He can be honest for the first time in forever.

“I fucked everything up what I can fuck up. I’m a monster. I’m sorry, [Y/N]”, for a monster he apologizes a lot. You run your fingers through his hair, while his tears wet your jeans. Nathan is curled up as a ball on your lap tearing up now and then during his story.  

“Nathan, you are ripped at the edges like a lot of people, but you are still a masterpiece. For me you are perfect and not even close to a monster”, you comfort him. Nate sits up to face you properly with his red and puffy eyes, “But you can’t forgive me, right? I can understand. I also hate myself like the rest of the world does.”

You take his face in your hands softly so you wouldn’t hurt him, “I forgive you, but you have to forgive yourself. Yes, I hate what you have done, but I could never hate you. You would have needed more support.” With your thumb you wipe a single tear from his cheek.

Nathan closes the gap between you two to press his lips on yours. A whole firework of emotions gets triggered in your chest as you start to kiss him back. He leans his forehead against yours after you two break apart. “Why didn’t I find you earlier? Everything could have been different…”

Without a word you pull him with you to lie down on the bed. It was a hell of a day and both of you deserve some sleep. Nate buries his face in the crook of your neck, while his arm is draped over your waist to keep you as close as possible. The fear of losing you will never leave him alone. The white ceiling stares back at you as you draw circles on Nathan’s arm. It takes a long time for him to relax and then to fall asleep finally. It’s over for now. You allow yourself to close your eyes.


Sad Ending

You open your eyes as you release a grey cloud of smoke. Absently you wipe away the ash, which is falling on your knee from the cigarette that dangles dangerously between your lips.  

A loud noise bring you back into the reality. It sounded just like a gun shot, but you are not quite sure. Could also be firecrackers in the bathroom once again. Nathan Prescott is famous for this old and really annoying prank.  

Beautiful silence wraps you up in its calmness, while your thoughts dance around in your head. The Marijuana keeps the bad ones low. Time seems to stop for a while as the sun starts to hide itself behind the trees.  

Suddenly your buzzing phone snaps you out of your daydream. A bit pissed that you got disturbed once again you answer the phone without looking who calls you. “[Y/N], reporting for duty”, is the first thing that comes to your bedazzled mind from the Marijuana. “[Y/N]! Didn’t you hear the sirens?! Come to the front door!”, Kate exclaims without a greeting.

Sighing you make your way to the said spot in front of the Blackwell Academy. The burning end of your cigarette lights once more as you take a deep inhale of smoke. A crowd formed in front of the doors, which surprised you a bit. What did you miss?

“Nathan shot someone in the girls bathroom”, you hear the teenagers whisper around you as you push your way towards Kate. “I knew something like that would happen one day.” - “He’s a bad one.” - “Now his father can’t help him anymore.” - “Poor little rich kid getting what he deserves.”

The mumbling dies down immediately when the doors get pushed open. Two police officer form a path in the crowd for the third officer who escorts a handcuffed Nathan Prescott. On the top of the stairs stands Principle Wells observing the scene with a sad expression on his face.  

Kate takes your hand in hers as she hides her face in your shoulder. She seems relieved that he got arrested. The bullying is going to stop now probably. Softly you rub circles on her back to comfort her and let her know she isn’t alone.  

Nathan’s head hangs low and his shoulders slump forward. It’s like the weight of the entire earth is lying on them. He probably needs also some comfort like Kate, but no one is going to do that. Nate is on his own once again.

He raises his head only for a few seconds. Your [E/C] eyes meet his clear blue but dead ones. There is no trace that these orbs are actually alive. No color. No feelings. Apparently Nate accepted his fate already. He surrendered to the demons around him. Everything inside of him died.

Your orbs are alive and full of color. But that’s not what hypnotizes Nathan. He can see sympathy in them. No disgust, no arrogance, no amusement. Honest and true sympathy for him. Nate could get lost in them, but he will never get a chance.  

In a crowd of people who hate him, he finds you. Way too late.

The officer pushes his forward so he walks a bit faster to the police car. All the people who pointed their fingers at Kate for this terrible video of her, are now doing the same thing with him. You don’t know a lot of his backstory, but he doesn’t deserve this. Being pushed by others destroys a person piece by piece. It’s a terrible slow death.

You feel bad for him even after all the thing he has done. Nathan will never know colors.

He will die with those dead blue eyes…


“Happy” Ending

A few soft kisses wake you up from your almost comatose and dreamless sleep. “I know you are awake”, Nathan comments your attempts to get five more minutes of sleep amused. In surrender you open your eyes to see him looking down at you, while a slight smirk rests on his lips. His alive and colorful blue eyes are beautiful compared to his dead ones when you two met.  

You two have nothing left except for the clothes you are wearing and his father’s credit card, whish isn’t unlimited. There is no place you have to be. No plan to follow. Nathan is completely free for the first time in his life. To be with a person who loves him unconditionally is all what he needed to feel alive again.  

“You… You are beautiful”, Nate presses a kiss onto your forehead matching to his lovely words. You notice how close you two are. He held you tight through the entire night. Maybe he was afraid to wake up without you by his side like this is just a beautiful but limited dream.

“Sweeties! I made breakfast”, the old granny informs you through the still closed door. Nate gets up from the bed you two share mumbling something about taming his hair. You roll over to lie on his warm side. Your whole life got turned over, but you couldn’t be happier right now.  

“Wow, handsome”, you compliment his wet brown hair that clings onto his forehead. How did both of you get so lucky? Nathan leans down to capture your lips into a kiss full of desire. “You are dripping”, you push him softly away from you, “I don’t need a shower yet.”

Smiling he grabs your hand in his hand to pull you out of the bed. You get his hint and follow his wish. “I’m starving. I hope the old granny can cook”, Nate pulls you as close as possible towards him. “Let’s find out”, you literally can feel his excitement of his new life. What will bring you the new day?

“Sweeties! I’m so happy you two are here. The storm in Arcadia Bay was terrible. It destroyed half of the town and even killed a few people”, the granny greets you as she puts two plates with scrambled eggs down on an empty table.

“Thanks”, you mumble suddenly not so happy anymore. People died. Maybe friends of you and you weren’t there. Your hometown destroyed. You should call your parents, but what are you going to say to them? You run away with a murderer and don’t plan to come back?!  

“We need to think of a plan”, you place your hand on Nathan’s to get his full attention. “Do we? Can’t we just drive until we have enough?”, he replies stuffing the eggs into his mouth. For a second you think about his suggestion. “I were never outside of Arcadia Bay”, you just never had time or money to travel.

“Then let this be our plan … if you want”, Nathan loves his new freedom, but he loves you more so he would give it up for you. If it’s your wish to go back, Nate will follow you without a doubt. And you know that, but it’s actually not what your heart desires.

“Okay, we are going on an adventure”, you agree enjoying his rare smile. “Slept well, sweeties?”, granny joins the conversation with two cups of coffer right in time. “Have never slept better in my life”, you admit. Nate raises just a thumbs up, because he’s busy eating.

That’s your new life. He is your new life. The clearly broken Nathan Joshua Prescott with the former dead blue eyes.  

“I truly love you, [Y/N].”  

Pride

Gaston x Reader

Author: Lil Laddie

Words: 1381

Warnings: None :)

A/N:This imagine is up much later than we usually post and I am very sorry for that. I was feeling so uninspired and had been doing practice stuff for my AP Physics test all day and kind of put this off. And as I climbed into bed tonight I got extreme inspiration and wrote this. So, I may not wake up on time for school in the morning but this was totally worth it! I love you kids and hope your day/night is fantastic!!!

Request: Hi I love your blog! I saw your post on beauty and the beast and I was hoping that you could write an imagine for Gaston from the live action movie w/ dialogue 4 & 14! If not I completely understand! Thanks love you! -Anon

4: “I know you don’t want to see me anymore but please, just listen.”

14: “Shhhh, I’m hiding!”


To say Gaston was full of himself would be an understatement. The man fully worshipped himself and expected the other villagers to do so to. You couldn’t stand his narcissistic attitude. That was why you avoided him at all costs. Gaston had originally never caught onto this. That was obvious as he followed you around the town square like a lost puppy.

“Now you can stop pretending (Y/N), it’s obvious how attracted you are to me. Just let me come over for dinner.” Gaston smirked.

“Gaston, I have told you thousands of time before, I do not like you. I don’t like you in the slightest! How about you take a hint and realize that this would never work between us! I would rather die a beggar in the streets than marry a vile, self absorbed man like you!” You yelled, causing the many people in town to turn and look at the commotion.

“(Y/N)…” Gaston said in shock, his self confidence completely deteriorating.

The hurt in his eyes were clear, no matter how hard he tried to cover it up. You didn’t understand why, but it hurt you to see him in pain.

“Have a good day, Gaston.” You hissed, turning on your heel and marching away from the heartbroken man.

+++

“Ah, (Y/N)!” LeFou exclaimed, slightly confused as to why you were behind a stack of hay in the tavern’s stable.

“Shhhh, I’m hiding!” You hushed him, not wanting him to alert Gaston of where you were.

Since you had completely snapped at Gaston, you had avoided him even more than you had before. You had found new hiding places and were determined to keep them secret from the man. For some reason, the flash of hurt that had crossed his face was etched in your mind. You felt guilty for yelling at him, but were too proud to apologize. Besides, he got what he deserved. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

“May I ask why you are hiding?” LeFou asked, drawing you out of your thoughts.

“I don’t want Gaston to find me.” You admitted, knowing that LeFou was a man you could trust and confide in. You had had a close bond with him since the two of you were children.

“Is it because you yelled at him the other day?” LeFou asked, leaning against one of the posts of the stables.

“Yeah…Is it bad that I feel guilty?” You sighed, feeling extremely conflicted with yourself.

“Why would you feel guilty if you hate him?” LeFou replied, a small smirk on his face.

“I do hate him!” You protested, making LeFou roll his eyes.

“You certainly wouldn’t be feeling guilty if you hated him.” LeFou remarked, giving you a knowing look. “If it gives you any consolation, Gaston feels guilty too. He spent the whole night trying to figure out how to prove himself to you. He may seem self conceited, but have you ever thought that it’s just a face he puts on. It’s a wall he uses to keep people out. Maybe if you broke down that wall, you could see the man he really is.”

“I don’t know LeFou…” You trailed off, fidgeting with your hands and clothes as a nervous habit.

“He loves you, (Y/N). Don’t judge him when you haven’t take the time to actually get to know him.” LeFou advised you, smiling gently.

“Thanks LeFou.” You said, letting his words sink in.

“Anytime, (Y/N).” LeFou nodded, before leaving you to your thoughts in the stables.

Talking with LeFou got your mind moving faster. You didn’t even know Gaston personally! Who were you to turn him down constantly and judge him by the remarks of others? Did this excuse him for the terrible things that you knew for a fact he had done in the past? Of course not, but that didn’t mean that you couldn’t give him a chance.

You stood up from where you were sitting in the hay and strutted out the door to find Gaston. You needed to apologize for yelling at him in front of everyone in town. Even if doing so hurt your pride.

+++

After looking for Gaston for over two hours you had given up. You knew that he had memorized your usual daily routine so he could find you at any time. With that in mind, you decided to do what you usually did at this time of day, laundry. Hopefully, Gaston would go looking for you like he usually did.

You enjoyed the warm sun on your back as you scrubbed a piece of your clothing. It relaxed your muscles and made you less anxious for Gaston to show up. You thought he would by now, and it was driving you slightly crazy. What made it worse was when a shadow covered the sun from reaching your skin and calming you down.

“(Y/N)…” Gaston said quietly, drawing your attention away from your laundry and to the owner of the shadow that was blocking the sun.

“Gaston….” You breathed out, not really knowing how to start your apology.

“I know you don’t want to see me anymore but please, just listen.” Gaston began, his usual confident aura completely gone.

“I wa-” You tried to cut in before continued his speech.

“Please (Y/N), just let me say this!” Gaston pleaded, waiting for your full attention to be on him. “I know that I am not an ideal man, but who is? I may seem self absorbed and narcissistic, but please believe me when I say I care for so much more than myself. I care about my best friend LeFou and his happiness. I want nothing but the best for him.”

Gaston had paused his speech and looked away from you. His gaze flickered from your eyes down to your lips then back up again as he took a slow step closer to you. You were now chest to chest. He brought up a hand to cup your face, his thumb slowly rubbing over your cheekbone. His soft touch made your heart rate quicken and your breath to become short and quick. No one else had ever caused such a reaction from you.

“I care for you (Y/N). Believe me when I say that. I know I am not perfect, but I would go to any length to change myself for you. I love you, (Y/N). I always have! I want you to be happy and if being with me is not that, I understand. I would never want you to be forced into something that would cause you misery. I just wanted you to know that there is more to me than meets the eye.” Gaston paused, letting out a heavy breath that tickled your nose. “I want to ask you once more, to consider me an option in your life. I would like to think that I would bring you extreme joy. If you reject me again, I promise to never bother you again.”

“Gaston…” You whispered, no other words being able to leave your mouth. To say you were in complete shock from him confessing his love for you, was an understatement.

“Yes?” Gaston asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you yesterday. I don’t have any right to judge you, I barely know you. I’ve never really giving you a chance, it’s been completely unfair to you.” You said, looking at the floor in embarrassment of your behavior. “I am willing to give you a fair chance now.”

“Thank you!” Gaston grinned, putting his arms tightly around you in a hug.

“I better not regret this.” You laughed, hugging him back.

“I promise that you won’t!” Gaston reassured you, pulling back from the hug and placing a light kiss on your cheek. “Come to my house for dinner tonight. I promise to make you something good.”

“I’ll see you then.” You agreed, watching Gaston walk away from you with a goofy grin on his face.

Smiling to yourself, you fantasized of what the night with Gaston would bring. Who knew that man that you thought you hated could make your heart race faster than it ever had before? It couldn’t be anything else but love.

Monsta X Wonho| Boyfriend AU

omg did you see the pictures of the Wonslut in Dallas?  Literally that was all it took for me to get the inspiration to write this, like goddamn I’m not even into buff guys (I prefer them tall and a little lanky tbh), but like nooooooooooo he just needs to chill ok?

NSFW!

Hoseok:

  • Such a soft and loving boyfriend tbh.
  • I feel like Hoseok is very best friend boyfriendy if you know what I’m saying?
  •  like not only is he your boyfriend, but he’s also your best friend.
  • He’s such a gym hunk, he loves working out, and loves it even more when you come to the gym with him.
  • Let’s be real, the gym freaking sucks, some people just look amazing while working out, like their sweat just illuminates the whole experience *cough cough* Hoseok, but for you, a normal human being, it can be torture.
  • Hoseok always asks for you to accompany him to the gym and the only reason he actually manages to convince you to come with him sometimes is because he pulls some aegyo on you, and literally how low can he go?  How dirty can he play? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) very low very dirty
  • , but most of the time you go to the gym with him and don’t even work out, you just sit in the corner on your phone, watching your boyfriend when he does the bench press, occasionally being his motivator.
  • It makes Hoseok feel manly when you watch him work out.  He even goes so far as to push himself a little harder when you’re around.
  • Gets such a kick out of showing you his muscles.
  • “Which way’s the beach?  This way.” *Flexes biceps*
  • Sometimes when Hoseok does push ups in the living room you koala his back, and he doesn’t even seem affected by your extra weight on him!
  • Hoseok’s face is so red and puffy in the morning when he wakes up you can’t help but lean over and kiss his face all over.  When you do this he pulls you close into a bear hug and rolls over so that he’s on top of you.
  • He’ll put all of his weight on you just to be annoying or until you push him off, then you guys snooze through your alarm together.
  • He constantly seems amazed that when you wake up in the morning you look just as good as you do when you fall asleep, like how does someone so beautiful exist?  How is he the lucky man that gets to see their shining face in the morning?  To be their boyfriend?
  • LOVES taking baths with you.  He’s already a bathtime enthusiast, always coming home with bags of new bath bombs, oils, and epsom salts, why wouldn’t he want his favorite person there with him?
  • He’s not even looking for sex bathtime is just his relaxation time, and with you in there with him… all up against each other… naked… ok it may be about sex just a little bit.
  • Whenever you hang out with friends together Hoseok always has you sitting on his lap.  He practically cages you in with his arms.
  • Very protective of you, but not overly jealous, he trusts you with all his heart but not so much other men.  He might be the kind to linger around you if you go to a club or something together but it’s not that bad.
  • Like when he noticed you becoming closer friends to Minhyuk, and that his friend had started to playfully put arms around your shoulders and punch you in the arm he jumped in.  
  •   he was actually really mature about it, like he sat you down and told you that though he trusted you with all his soul, it just made him a little uneasy seeing you act so close to Minhyuk.
  • He did the same with Minhyuk, but it went a little more like this:
  •   “Mini, you know Y/N’s mine.  Stop being all touchy touchy.”
  •   “Hyung, I literally just called her dudebro and pushed her for saying the word litimous.”
  •   “Either way I respect your friendship but keep boundaries.”
  •   “Hoseok Hyung she’s literally trying to hook me up with one of her friends tonight.”
  •   “Like I said.”
  • Lots of hugs afterwards by both parties.
  • I swear though if another man went so far as to try and touch your butt or something he would roar.
  • Learn from your mistakes, NEVER EVER WATCH BAMBI WITH THIS BOY.
  • ,  poor angel cried so hard, you had to pause the movie he was sobbing so much.  His face got all red and swollen, and he wrapped himself around you in the fetal position.  He wheezed and shook for what seemed to be like an hour, and all you could do was sit there and try your best to comfort him.
  • , Somehow this never stops him from wanting to keep watching sad movies though, like the Lion King, he always wants to watch the Lion King baby boy.
  • If you bring this boy to the pool or beach, just prepare yourself to be thrown into the water, he WILL use his strength against you and drag you into the water.
  • Definitely the kind to want to draw in the sand or make a sand castle.
  • I don’t see Hoseok as someone who wants to get a pet right away, like he’s in a stable point in his life, he has a great amazing career and an even more fantastic home life with his girl.  HE’S FINANCIALLY STABLE.  But like still he doesn’t want to accept the responsibility of caring for another creature yet like omg what if he doesn’t have the time for both you and a puppy?  Like fish are enough work as is.  Also he doesn’t know if he could handle it when it dies like omg BAMBI!!! REMEMBER BAMBI?!?
  • Still definitely wants something in the future though, like a bunny or kitten
  • Very VERY good with his fingers, if you know what I mean
  • You could just be having a bad day or something, maybe you don’t even feel that we’ll, and you’re just laying on the couch wrapped in a blanket or something and he’ll just lay down with you, snuggle his face into your neck.
  • He’ll reach down innocently and unbutton your pants, Hoseok won’t bother trying to tease you when you’re like this, he’ll go right to pumping his fingers in and out of you, curling them all in the right places.
  • Even if you felt gross in the beginning, Hoseok’s fingers always seem to make you feel better, and he isn’t one to care if you were on your period or not.
  •  he’s almost always the one to start something, like he’ll just start rubbing your thighs in the middle of a movie or playfully whine until you pay attention to him.
  • Loves to bite your lip.
  • Loves it even more when you bite his.
  • Boobs >>>>> Butt, well he likes both, but your butt is kind just more playful to him lol.  Like you’ll be hanging out alone and he’ll pretend they’re bongos or something.
  • He’ll smile and giggle and get all laughy and stuff.
  • When he eats you out, GOD BLESS YOU LUCKY FOOL, he’ll reach up under your top and roughly grab at your breasts, pulling them out of your shirt.
  • Hoseok eats you out like your life depends on it, sucking hard and licking your thighs in between.  He starts pushing his fingers into you when he senses you’re close to orgasm.
  • To him it’s all about what leads up to sex that makes it so good, so he goes all out for foreplay.
  • When you go down on him, Hoseok bunches all your hair in his fist or pulls in back into a ponytail.  He’ll hold the sides of your face, your cheekbones, your jaw, guiding you down onto him.
  • He’s a little forceful tbh, like it’s not the most enjoyable if you’re not so into that kind of thing, but if he understands that you would be more willing to give him head if he was more gentle he’d compromise for you.
  • As for the main course… it’s usually fast not going to lie.
  • Hoseok goes hard on foreplay so by the time you are actually doing it you are both a little worn out and more sensitive.
  •   that’s not saying it still isn’t good!!!
  • Though Hoseok may not be so into marriage or anything, he definitely doesn’t want whatever you two have together to die.  He loves you and still wants to spend his life with you.
  • He’ll probably consider marriage more seriously if you want it really badly or if and when you get pregnant (not for a long ass time hopefully), he does know that he wants children, and he understands how difficult it can be to have a none conventional home situation, so in that case you two will already practically be married, so maybe why not just have it actually happen?
  • It all depends on circumstance though.

<><> do not edit/remove anything from the original post <><> this AU belongs to me <><>

glitter paint & movie night

summary: your six-year-old daughter has an important question to ask bucky.
characters: female reader, bucky barnes, becca (6-year-old OFC), briefly steve rogers and natasha romanoff
word count: 2197
warnings: one f bomb
A/N: i suck at titles k so this is a little different from my normal thing, but it popped in my head so i decided to write it. i also named the daughter becca, after @beccaanne814-blog because tbh she’s such a great person and writer. she gives encouragement to SO MANY PEOPLE, comments on tons of fics, and then writes amazing ones of her own. so this is my small, insignificant way of letting her know that she is appreciated. <3


Originally posted by v-writings

The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other’s life. - Richard Bach


It wasn’t until my back slammed into the mat for the fifth time in the past hour that I started thinking I needed to reconsider my hobbies. 

Natasha stood over me, strands of red hair hanging down in her face as she stared down at me. She had a satisfied smirk on her face as she offered her hand to help me up. Again. 

“You’re out of shape,” she said as I grabbed her hand. She took a couple of steps back, hauling me to my feet. 

“Fuck you,” I said, shoving at her shoulder. “I’ve been off duty for four months!” 

“Yeah, but you’d think you’d be in a little better shape. You were coaching little league soccer, after all.” She grinned at my scowl, leaning down and grabbing one of the towels we had thrown on the floor. She dried the sweat glistening on her face and neck. “But you went and got soft on me.” 

Keep reading

Dead Man Walking [Connor Murphy x Reader]

Title: Dead Man Walking
Pairing: Connor Murphy x Reader
Fandom: Dear Evan Hansen
Requested: Yes! I had two different requests for this one
Summary: You and Connor Murphy aren’t friends, but you do have a business plan worked out. You give him the money, Connor gives you the weed, and you make a day of it. Connor’s a little pent up tonight (and a little black and blue from an incident he won’t tell you about), but you’ve got a proposition.
Warnings: Connor’s potty mouth | physical abuse | Mentions of depression | a really poor way to treat people with depression | a really poor understanding of mental health from both sides | drugs | heavy kissing | First person reader | not proof read | confident Connor Murphy
A/N: sorry this took so long! Hopefully everyone likes it! Fair warning again (stated above) heavy physical abuse and mental abuse–I don’t believe some of the things I have Connor and the reader say below, I just believe realistically it’s how their characters would respond. Thanks so much for 1100 followers! Thanks so much for all the love and support from everyone! Hope you like this♡ More notes at the end

To say Connor Murphy was a friend would be a lie.

From: CM
9:36 pm
U home?

I was glad my parents didn’t ask whose number it was that showed up all over our phone bill, and that they never questioned cryptic whispers I sometimes gave into my phone when he called late, answering despite the fact my parents were just across the table.

He was brief. He was curt. He didn’t talk too much, so there was no worry of my parents overhearing. Not that they’d care.

I stared at my phone screen for longer than probably necessary–I knew Connor, and if I didn’t respond quickly, he’d give up and reschedule for whenever he felt like it. Still, the familiar jolt of anxiety bolted through me all the same.

I was in my room, spread across my bed in one of my uncle’s hand-me-down sweatshirt and a pair of pajama shorts my mother didn’t like me wearing when I had guests over. She wasn’t here to change that, though.

To: CM
9:41 pm

ya. U have my bio book?

Plot twist: “bio book” did not actually mean bio book, in case you haven’t caught on yet.

From: CM
9:41 pm

Yeah

To: CM
9:42 pm

Come over

He sent a quick confirmation, letting me know he was walking over, making anxious for a few reasons, the head of which being him walking around in that hoodie in my neighborhood wouldn’t go over too well, and the last thing we needed was the cops barging in. I texted him to use the back door.

I brushed through my hair, frowning at the fact there was no time to do my makeup. It was Saturday, and I hadn’t bothered to put any on today anyway, but it didn’t make me any less uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure Connor had ever seen me without makeup on. I scrubbed the toner on my cheeks a little too harshly.

Connor and I had a deal–a system we’d developed late Sophomore year, when highschool hadn’t lived up to any of the expectations we’d had for it. I didn’t really know Connor–sure, he lived two streets over and we went to the same elementary school, but it didn’t change the fact that I was a fairly popular person, by no means at the top of the food chain, but still involved, and Connor, well.

Connor was the stoner. The first in our class. He didn’t even hang out with the other stoners, he just sat at the edge of the lunch room at the end of the table where the anime club sat by himself, staring. It had been pretty safe to say our lives wouldn’t cross, ever.

If we hadn’t made a deal.

I still don’t know why I did it, and part of me wished I never had, because now we couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t stop giving him money and he wouldn’t stop coming over with joints and we’d smoke and shit talk and fuck if I didn’t like it.

We didn’t talk at school. We didn’t talk once the joint fizzled out and we both fell asleep, Connor leaving wordlessly at some point around three am, walking anywhere but home.

I knew the feeling.

I warmed up the Nintendo, sitting in the floor–I’d already drug all the blankets from my bed (Connor never sat on the bed, ever. It made him uncomfortable, I think) onto the floor in front of the television, piled it with ample snacks. Connor ate like a bird.

I was already sleepy. I wished I’d told him to just go home, let him take his joint and leave–that was our deal. I’d pay for the weed (his parents had cut him off long ago) and he’d keep half of it, and deliver the other half to me. Sometimes we smoked together, sometimes we didn’t. My parents were gone for the week, and he knew that. Everyone knew that. He wanted to hang.

I didn’t mind, not one bit.

Connor let himself in, surprising me by entering my bedroom unannounced, shutting the door behind him and locking it. From my position stretched across the nest of blankets on the floor, Connor looked like a giant. He paused in the doorway, his face expressionless as he took in the sight of my setup. He would’ve been funny, standing in my pink bedroom, his backdrop a Jonas Brothers poster and a mountain of teddy bears. Would’ve been funny, if he didn’t look like shit. The purple bruising under his eyes and across the bridge of his nose was concerning, but I knew better than to bring it up. His lips were puckered tightly, almost like a sardonic duck face. I held out a package of twizzlers.

“You lock the front door?”

He nodded. “Back door.”

“Hm,” I agreed, letting him slide out a single red twine and pop it between his teeth as he fumbled in the back pocket of his jeans, his lithe fingers twisted as he threw a bag at me.

“Just one?” I said, a little upset. I’d given him more than enough for two.

“Prices hiked,” he said, digging around again and handing me a crumpled wad of twenties, which scattered on the hello kitty blanket we were sitting on. Connor folded himself neatly beside me, careful not to take up too much room or to tower too close.

“Keep it,” I told him, pulling the blunt from the bag. “Use it for next time. Or spend it, I don’t care.”

“No,” he grumbled, voice void of inflection, eyes staring ahead at the tv screen. “Not the deal. Wanna smoke.”

“Hulk smash,” I agreed sagely, earning a glare from him. “No, got it, not in the mood.” I sighed.

“It’s so annoying to pass a blunt back and forth,” I groaned, lighting anyway and taking the first drag. Calm thoughts, calm thoughts were the key to a good trip. Being anxious to start just made you paranoid. Connor’s lithe fingers brushed mine as he stole it from me, placing it between his own lips.

“Your fingers are freezing.” I pushed the blankets toward him, building a small nest around your legs. “And take your jeans off if you wanna get comfy.”

He didn’t, his loss.

I flopped back against the nest, feeling my hair fan out around me, and sighed. I didn’t really wanna smoke tonight–it was already late, I was already tired. Connor made me uncomfortable to the nth degree, I definitely couldn’t fall asleep with him here.

When I glanced back at him, his expression was unreadable thanks to his downcast curls and the cloud of smoke that had begun to twist around him. He held out the blunt to me.

“You’re quiet,” I noticed, taking the blunt and inhaling, watching the patterns the smoke made as it curled in on itself over and over.

He shrugged, his shoulder catching his curls and dragging them back a little to reveal a bit more of his face to me. The pinpoint freckles across his cheeks seemed paler under the outline of the bruise, just across the edge. I bit down on my tongue to keep from asking. His lips were pouted, as if he was upset.

Connor wasn’t usually like this–stoic, sure, but calmer. I wondered for half a moment if he’d gotten mugged on his way here. The blossoming bruise, still obviously new, the apples of his cheeks slightly swollen–I doubted he’d simply run into a wall.

We weren’t friends, so I didn’t ask.

“Don’t have much to say,” he muttered. “Not much to talk about.”

I just hummed, stealing another drag and handing him another twizzler. “Wanna play MarioKart before this stuff kicks in?”

I might’ve imagined the corner of his mouth ticking up from where his lips were wrapped around the licorice, but regardless he muttered, “Sure.”

—-

It took less than fifteen minutes for the weed to hit us full force. Connor had destroyed me at the game, so we’d abandoned it in lieu for muted cartoons neither of us were watching.

We were stretched across the nest of blankets, me facing him where he stared listlessly at the ceiling–at some point he’d forgotten to pass blunt, letting it hang limply between his lips. I nudged him with my knee as a reminder.

“Your fucking lipgloss is all over this thing,” he groaned bitterly, wiping his hand on his knee before lowering it back to the blanket. He’d taken off his shoes at some point, and his socks had Courage the Cowardly Dog on them. I pretended not to notice–even when I thought they were pretty cool.

“It’s chapstick,” I said, rolling up onto my elbow to get a better look at him, the smoke trailing across the plains of his hoodie like fog.

“It’s got glitter on it,” he shot back, still staring at the ceiling. “I don’t want that shit on my mouth. My dad would have a fucking field day.”

I just laughed, and let his eyes roll over to glare at me. There were one or two sparkles at the corner of his mouth, I saw, but nothing that couldn’t be wiped off. I wondered briefly where his parents thought he was.

“No more for you then, I guess,” I giggled, rolling into a sitting position and taking another drag. His eyebrows furrowed comically, his slim body rolling up.

“Nuh-uh, no fair. Without me you’d have no weed.”

“Could say the same for you,” I sighed, leaning my head against the foot of my bed and staring at him. His hair was away from his face now–once calm, I supposed, he’d forgotten all about the blemish on his face. He wasn’t hunched or hiding anymore, the sleeves of his hoodie pushed up to reveal his bare forearms. He smiled, startling me–it wasn’t much, just a quirk of his lip, but it was pretty nonetheless. He looked like the thumbnail for a Charli music video.

“I’d find another way to get the money–you’re just the easiest.”

I gasped, mock offended, earning a smile with teeth from him. He ducked his head to his chest, his hair eclipsing the smile.

“Connor Murphy thinks I’m easy!” I cried in mock horror, slamming my palm dramatically against my forehead. “Oh God, my reputation is ruined.”

“If I so much as mentioned your name at school, your reputation would be ruined,” Connor chuckled darkly. “They’d kick you out of student council until you pled ‘charity case’.”

I smiled, deciding not to call him on out on the self deprecating jokes lest he return to his catatonic state. I was just pleased he’d begun to forget about whatever had made hum enter so sullen.

I snorted. “Yeah, they’d believe that for sure. Instead of, ya know, the obvious.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smile fading slowly. “What’s the obvious?” He asked grimly, suddenly angry. I forced a laugh to diffuse the tension.

“You know,” I said awkwardly. “You’re a boy. I’m a girl.”

He stared blankly at me, and despite the fact I knew he fully understood what I was getting at, I also knew he wanted to hear me say it.

Can I make it anymore obvious?” I crooned in a poor monotone, nudging his knee with my own. He licked his lips, coming away with a thin smile.

“What? People would think you’re slumming with the loner?”

I rolled my eyes. “I doubt anyone would call it slumming–girls like bad boys, Connor.”

I watched his slate eyes widen, his whole face expand as he barked a laugh, startling me to press back against the bed as he crumpled with laughter. It was shocking, and I let out another anxious laugh to echo him–I’d never seen Connor with so much expression on his face. He’d smiled so wide I could’ve seen his tonsils, and he was still bent over, his face hovering over my lap as he choked for air between heavy stomp of laughter, which sounded more akin to wheezing than any laugh track I’d ever heard. In the back of my head, it sort of reminded me of that one SpongeBob episode where they describe Squidward’s laugh box as “shriveled and unused”.

God, Connor was such a Squidward. I’d tell him after this.

“Is that what you think I am?” He practically giggled, his wide and manic eyes rushing up to meet mine. “A bad boy?”

I shifted uncomfortably, realizing the question had become about me. He’d been laughing at me. I felt my whole expression fall and shatter in my lap. “I mean–yeah? What, haven’t you read a YA novel? Hoodie, drugs, sarcastic and witty jokes, plus your looks–you’re the recipe for a good bad boy trope. You’re probably mushy on the inside. I bet you write poetry.”

Connor’s thin eyebrows shot into his hairline, his face still amused. “My looks?”

Flushing, I started down at my bare knees, which had turned pink–I suddenly felt too hot. I don’t remember weed usually doing that.

“God, Connor, don’t make me say it,” I grumbled, going to take a drag, surprised when he reached out to catch my wrist to prevent me. He was too close–I could see every freckle against his brusied cheek, the violent purple seeming almost pink around the edges. He was smiling softly, eyebrows raised. “You’re cute,” I admitted softly, relieved to see him laugh it off and let me go, rolling again onto his back. He pulled a teddy bear from the pile and held it front of him, smiling down at it.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he snorted.

“Oh, fuck you, Murphy.”

“Buy me a drink first.“ 

"Ugh!” I groaned, falling face first beside him onto the nest, feeling the plush blankets brush against my cheeks. I had a headache coming on–there was always something about weed that left me prone to sensory overload. “It’s too bright. Turn off the lights.”

“Got it.”

It felt immensely better after Connor hit the switch and engulfed us in darkness, the only light coming from the television and dying the room a soft blue hue, and the flush that had felt like an awful itch across my skin fell away.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Connor hold out the blunt to me. I hadn’t realized he’d taken it. I thanked him and took a long drag.

“You’re quiet,” he said in a gruff voice, more sardonic than thoughtful. I snorted.

“You’re one to talk.”

He chuckled–it twisted my stomach in a decent way to see him in a such a pleasant mood. Sneaking a look at him, I realized it suited him well, that crooked smile he sported, revealing a bloody crack in his lip to match the blossoming bruise across his face.

“You wanna talk about that?” I murmured, pointing to him with a knuckle and then tracing my own cheek. He quirked an eyebrow, as if he didn’t understand. He’d forgotten, I realized. I sat up to face him, blunt still dangling between my lips, and traced the underside of the bruise with my thumb. He pulled away quickly, as if it had hurt.

“No. I don’t. We were talking about you.”

“Were we?” I asked, genuinely trying to remember. The best and worst thing about pot was the pleasant fog it left your brain in.

“Yes,” he groaned forcefully. “We were. You were talking about your parents.”

“I was?” That sounded false. I knew it was a bad idea to have Connor over when I was so tired and suggestible–it made us both open to conversations I didn’t want to have.

It was always scary. It wasn’t like we hadn’t had deep talks before, but that just meant it was that much harder to ignore him at school. Ignore him when he lashed out in class and keep quiet when my friend Josh talked shit behind his back. It was harder.

Because when we listened, it meant we cared.

“Yes,” he sighed again. “Do you need to sleep or something? I’ll finish the blunt.”

“Nope,” I said, smacking his hand away and keeping the blunt. “This one’s mine. You only get secondhand smoke. Sorry.”

He glared at me. “You’re funny.”

“You complained! Complaining means no blunt. You can shotgun filter-feed, a la Spongebob.”

He laughed, his hair swishing lightly around his shoulders. He looked nice.

The weed was definitely making me suggestible.

“Um, yeah, that’d get me super high,” he replied dryly, picking at his nails, glancing at me out of the corner of his eyes.

“Not from over there,” I sighed, leaning against the foot of the bed and blowing smoke in his direction, watching his hair fall over his shoulders, and his eyelids slide down as if he’d suddenly become drowsy. As painful as the bruise looked, it also gave him a sort of dreamy aesthetic that made me feel sort of disgustingly protective.

“That your way of asking me to scoot closer?” He sighed, sliding a bit closer across the nest of blankets so his thigh was flush with mine, making me suck in a sharp breath.

“This is out of character for you, Murphy,” I breathed, trying and failing to sound braver than I felt. My foggy brain was flashing warning lights over and over, why this was an awful idea. Pro: my parents would hate it. Con: this was Connor Murphy. Pro: he’s cute. Con: he’s Connor Murphy.

“Don’t wanna get anymore glitter on my lips,” he grinned like a shark, his smile blinding in the cyan light from the television.

“Think that’s gonna happen regardless,” I muttered nervously, daring to make eye contact with him and finding that he was smirking sharp enough to knock the air out of me. Oh God, it was gonna happen.

“You can use your hand, dumbass.”

I nearly screamed, jumping back and cracking my head against the bed frame, staring at him with wide eyes. “What?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You haven’t shotgunned before?”

Oh.

I felt myself deflate, leaning forward again, and I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed. Of course Connor Murphy wouldn’t kiss me. Connor Murphy didn’t like me. We were barely friends. I just paid for his weed.

“No, actually,” I grumbled, looking sheepishly up at him. “I haven’t.”

“You’re such a goody two shoes,” he chuckled, taking the blunt from me, and replaced it between my lips a little tighter. “I’ll show you.”

He stole my hand from my knee and rolled it into a fist. “Keep this tight. Take the drag, then blow into this, okay?”

I did as he said, holding the smoke in my lungs and bringing the fist to my mouth, only halfway surprised when he surged forward to press his lips against the opposite side of my fist, the smoke escaping quicker from my mouth than it should’ve. I flushed deeply at his annoyed gaze.

“I got like, none of that.”

“Sorry,” I muttered. “You just surprised me.”

He rolled his eyes, pushing his hair back out of his face frustratedly. He didn’t have a hair tie on his wrist–I should probably offer him mine, but he was still too close, and I could smell him past the scent of the pot. I was warm again.

“Tighter,” he grunted, slapping my fist and reattaching his lips to the other side, his nose brushing my knuckles, his eyelids closed softly like he was kissing me. My stomach flipped, and I quickly blew the smoke through, and his face was so close I could feel his bangs brush my face. 

“Missed again,” he grumbled, softly, eyebrows furrowed in thought. He tapped the pad of my thumb with his index finger. “See this space. It’s always gonna be open here. My mouth isn’t that big, and you pulling away isn’t helping.”

He was right–there was a large gap between my pinky and the pad of my thumb, simply because of the direction my fingers curled. Too much smoke was getting out. Connor’s high was starting to wear off, I could tell he was getting frustrated.

I leaned back against the bed, taking another drag.

“If you’re gonna complain, literally just take a hit from the source and deal with the glitter, and next time buy two blunts–”

He waited until the smoke had started to curl out of my mouth before he surged forward, taking hold of my jaw between his lithe fingers, making me yelp before drawing his own face close.

I thought he was trying to kiss me, so I sealed my lips tight, but his hands worked my jaw open, and I realized quickly as he positioned his mouth over mine, his lips barely brushing my own, that he was simply inhaling sharply, eyes closed.

He leaned away slowly, leaving me still gasping for fresh air that the room was now void of, leaning back onto the palms of his hands and tilting his head back so that the pale column of his throat was silhouetted in front of the tv’s blue light, eyes still closed blissfully as he got his first successful hit in an hour.

“Thanks,” he whispered, his voice gravelly and sending a jolt through my stomach.

“Warn me next time!” I growled, wiping my mouth dramatically despite the fact his eyes were still closed. The blunt had burnt out, fallen amidst the pastel blankets. Connor’s hands were gripping one of my teddy bears tightly in his lap, smiling down at it with a smirk.

“You thought I was gonna kiss you,” he chuckled, playing with a paw.

“You’re such an asshole.”

“You were gonna let me kiss you,” he said, almost surprised, still not looking at me, but at the little bear. “Me. Connor fucking Murphy. The quarterback would have a field day. Aren’t you in the running for study body president or something?”

“I get it, it’s funny. You’re such a ladies man, I’m sure,” I spat, knowing it was gonna strike a nerve. His head snapped up, making my stomach lurch, his slate eyes connecting with mine in a glare.

“You know, it’s not like I don’t hear them try to convince you to have parties here,” he began so slowly that I had to look away. He could see me. He could see too much, his angry eyes bloodshot. “Your parents are never fucking home. Trust me, there are loads of boys who’d love to get their rocks off with you in this Hello Kitty hell hole,” he gestured around to the room, throwing the teddy bear back onto the pile, making me flinch. I heard him suck in a breath. His voice was so soft, I was shaking.

“You lie. You tell them you’re gonna study, or you’re gonna binge watch some stupid fucking rom com all your girlfriends are obsessed with, and then you fucking call me every fucking weekend. What’s the point? Your soccer star buddies couldn’t share some of their pot? Why me?”

“Because,” I screeched, pulling my knees tight and ducking my face into them, my hair falling like a curtain around me to eclipse him from sight.

“Because I don’t wanna owe them anything and I don’t wanna sit around with them and talk about what the theme for homecoming is going to be and whatever boring crap we always talk about till my brain melts and falls out of my ears. Because, maybe, one day my parents are gonna come home early and seeing Josh isn’t as alarming as seeing you because, to them, you’d look like the kind of boy who eats girls like me for lunch and maybe they’d scared instead of thinking I’m just fooling around.

Because, for five fucking minutes, with you, I don’t have to pretend that I’m perfect and I’m fine. I don’t have to deal with anything or anyone. I wanna  forget, Connor,” I gasped, realizing now that I was crying in front of Connor Murphy, who would never let me live this down, and never talk to me again.

I knotted my hands in my hair and pulled, desperate to feel something else than lonely. “I need you to help me forget, Connor. I’m sorry.”

The silence was deafening, embarrassing. I felt juvenile, stupid. I felt stupid for trusting Connor with that information, knowing he’d sell me out for a paperclip.

This relationship we’d had–whatever it was–was over now.

I sat up, covering my face with my hands, surprised to still hear him breathing.

“You can go now,” I said, my voice only slightly more level.

“You just asked me to help you,” he muttered.

I pulled my hands away, surprised to find him close again, his face staring down at where my hands had moved into my lap. At some point he’d shed his hoodie, leaving him in an undershirt it looked like he’d outgrown in middle school. Rail thin, pale, freckles across his shoulders. There were bruises on his biceps, one, two, three, four, lined up like fingerprints. I swallowed.

“You want your parents to lose their shit and care about you?” He asked, not so much a question as a bargain opening. “Me too. You’re just gonna have to get more ostentatious with it.”

“That’s a big word, Mr. Murphy.”

“I have a word of the day calendar,” he replied dryly, looking up at me with pleading eyes. “You wanna forget? Me too. You wanna piss of your parents? Me too.”

My eyebrows lowered, and I couldn’t help but lean closer to him, placing my hand on his shoulder to steady myself. I felt dizzy. All of this had to be the pot talking.

“What are you suggesting?”

He didn’t ask. He didn’t know how. He didn’t have to.

He reached forward, placing his fingertips along the edge of my jaw, his eyes deadly serious, almost concerned. Maybe scared.

He hadn’t done this before.

I shut my eyes, gasping when I felt his nose brush against my cheek. His mouth was soft, closed, pressing chastely against mine for a long moment before pulling away and repeating the action. I could taste the blood on his lip, which was odd, but I let it happen.

“Yeah?” He asked softly, out of breath.

I nodded, reaching forward to push myself to my knees, my fingers knotting into his white shirt.

“Yeah,” I breathed back, letting myself fall against him, pleased and breathless tat he caught me, his hands ghostingly tenderly over my waist as he kissed me deeply, working my mouth open with quick, sloppy kisses. He wasn’t a great kisser, but he definitely made up for it in enthusiasm. I giggled against him, earning a grunt of protest from him, his hands yanking hard at my waist, pulling me flush against his chest.

“What?” He hissed.

“I’m not gonna break,” I promised, reaching my arms around his neck to tangle my hands in his hair, watching his eyelids flutter close, his eyelashes fanning against his cheeks. “Really. Go nuts. Leave a hickey or something, that’d really jazz my dad.”

“Please don’t mention your dad again,” Connor grumbled, leaning forward to press his face against the column of my throat, letting out a groan. “It’s kinda killing the mood.”

“Just suck on my neck, Murphy.”

“Fine.”

He did, and it wasn’t entirely unpleasant–he had the decency to occasionally pause to press kisses against my clavicle, the neck of my hoodie eclipsing most of his access. He didn’t try to take it off, and I was mostly grateful (albeit a little disappointed). His hands were tight fists against the small of my back, pressing me as close as I could get, until I pulled him away from my chest and back to my face, kissing him roughly with my hands still knotted in his hair, my thumbs keeping a solid pressure on his jaw until he yelped, pulling back.

His eyes were shut tight, his whole face pinched as he scrambled back from me, sliding me off of his lap. Red faced, I watched the tears slide through the cracks as he scrubbed at them.

The bruise. I’d pressed too hard.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Fuck, sorry–just–fuck, still new, we can keep–fuck, I know, I killed the mood, I’m sorry–”

“Hey,” I crooned softly, crawling across the nest to place my hand on his shoulder, rubbing softly, shushing him. “It’s okay. Calm down. I’m sorry I hit your bruise.”

“It’s fine,” he said, scrubbing frustratedly at his face with too much force, wetness still leaking from his eyes. “I fucked up, Christ, sorry, I can do better–”

“Enough for now, okay?” I said, leaning him back against the nest, settling him against the pillow. “We can try again when you’re calmer, okay? I’m not kissing you. You’re upset.”

“I’m fucking upset because I ruined the fucking mood–”

“No, you didn’t Connor,” I sighed, squeezing his hand where he hung between us, watching him become pink in the face with anger. “It’s really okay. Please tell me about the bruise, if you wanna.”

“I don’t. I’m already a fuck up, I don’t need you thinking I’m an asshole.”

“I know your an asshole,” I chuckled.

“I’m going home–”

“Please don’t!” I gasped, lunging forward to pin him down, holding tight to his hands. “Just–if you wanna talk, I’m here. It’s not healthy to bottle things up.”

“Who says I bottle things up?”

I didn’t want say the obvious–that he didn’t have any friends. I just blinked down at him, staring softly.

Connor Murphy was collateral damage. He was a mess. His hair was frizzed, curling around his face, unkempt and soft, like a child’s. His bloodshot eyes were wild, darting everywhere but my face as if he thought he could make an escape at any moment. His lips were pouted, puffy from kissing and cracked from being too dry, with little specks of silver glitter at the corners, almost like freckles.

He was messy. He was shaking. He wasn’t a good person. He’d never get me into an Ivy League school and standing beside him would never mean I could be Prom Queen, and still….

“I could be your friend, if you wanted me to, Connor,” I said quietly, squeezing his hands, feeling him relax beneath me.

“Friends talk to each other at school.”

I smiled back. “Yeah. They do. I would, if you want. And sit with you at lunch. And we could go to movies, if you like those–”

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that,” he said softly, pulling his hands away and starting to stand.

“Please, don’t leave,” I pleaded softly, looking up at him from where he towered over me. I knew I must’ve looked silly sitting in a nest of pink pillows and pastel blankets and worn teddy bears, staring up at him with bloodshot eyes, holding out my hand for him to take. “Connor, I want to be your friend. We could even hang at your place–not even to do drugs! Yousaid you wanted to make your parents mad. I can do that–”

“No,” he growled, turning to glare at me with blazing eyes. “You can’t. My parents would fucking love you. I can tell you exactly how it would go, too. They’d constantly bug you about it until we’d have to pretend to date just to get them off our fucking backs, and they’d–they’d think you could fix me like that’s how that fucking works–and, fuck, my dad would probably tell you to get the fuck out of dodge before I hurt you and you can’t leave. That’s exactly what would happen.

So, no, sweetheart, we can’t be fucking friends. I’ll buy your pot, I’ll see you next weekend, we’ll smoke up and I can leave a fucking used condom in your kitchen sink if you want me to that badly–but I don’t need you to pity me, okay? Fuck off.”

I rose to my feet, catching the arm of his hoodie so he couldn’t tug it on properly. “Connor, please stay. Don’t leave angry, you’re gonna get yourself in trouble–”

His fist connected with my stomach, sending me back into the wall, and I choking for a moment as the wind was knocked out of me, sending me sliding to the floor.

I was crying–it hadn’t hurt that bad, just the shock of it, Connor still standing over me, screaming something incoherent to my still ringing ears while I sobbed.

“–wanna know how I got the bruise? I fucking hit my mom. She didn’t even do anything in just–she wouldn’t fucking stop talking about what we should do this weekend and ‘you need to get out of the house you need to do something you need sunshine’ like everything is a magic fucking bandaid and her fucking voice–so I went to hit her in the fucking face, my own fucking mom–and my dad just fuckin’,” his voice died off momentarily, and I realized through my shock that he was crying. “My dad just fucking wailed on me. Hit me right between the eyes like four times, blam blam blam blam! Tried to send me to my room. So I left. Don’t think I’m going back for a few days.”

Had it been ten minutes ago, I’d have told him to stay. I would’ve offered the bed. I would’ve sat beside him at lunch and taken him to Prom.

But Connor Murphy was collateral damage, meant only to be seen as a red flag by my parents. He had no place in my life, no place in my future.

I couldn’t fix Connor Murphy. Nobody could.

“Get out,” I whispered, voice breaking, hardly audible. He did.

—-

I washed the sheets. I threw away the joint. I washed my face in the mirror, put a bandage over the rather artistic purple bruising on my neck. I crawled into bed, throwing the offending teddy bear underneath, only to be found a year down the line while I packed for college.

My whole body felt sore, like I’d just gone through a car crash and walked home. It was the shock, I knew.

I pulled out my phone.

To: CM
3:56 am

same time next weekend?

It took less than a minute for him to reply.

From: CM
3:56 am

I love hittin the books with u

A/N: Hey! I wanted to address the fact that, yeah, Connor is definitely a little OOC here (i.e. being more confident and open in the beginning, not very paranoid and not very scared) and I’d like to explain that as (not only being needed for the fic to work) but I imagine his walk over to your place is very a la Dead Girl Walking from Heathers–he’s just gotten in a fight with his parents, he doesn’t think he’s going back home and he doesn’t have much to lose. Sorry for the not so happy ending (which the one of the requests called for :/ sorry guys). Regardless, hoped you liked it? Lemme know? Thanks ♡

anonymous asked:

Nurseydex prompt where the team forces Dex and Nursey into a closet or supply room or some small space so theyll talk and deal w the UST and finally get together but once the door is closed Dex starts having a panic attack either bc small space (memories of bullying? Claustrophobic?) and bc he's forced to talk FEELINGS w Nursey and its all 2 much and Nursey tries to convince the team to let them out while also comforting Dex thru this and ends with them getting out and start (secretly?) dating

So, I deviated away from the prompt a little. Mostly because I didn’t feel like Bitty, who had been locked in a closet before, would even a LITTLE bit approve of this plan if he had been consulted. Hopefully you like it.


Dex wasn’t freaking out. He wasn’t.  Except, yeah, he totally was freaking out.

“Dude, you spend your summers on a boat, how are you claustrophobic?” The fact that Nursey wasn’t the least bit bothered just made things so much worse.

“Shut the fuck up, I’m not claustrophobic. I just don’t like closed spaces. And it’s different on a boat.”

Dex was going to fucking kill Holster. Maybe Ransom, too, since they did everything together and he probably had a hand in it, too. Once they got out of the basement supply closet, that was. At least Holster turned on the light before he locked them in.

He should have known better, honestly. When he got an urgent text saying that one of the pipes in the closet was leaking everywhere, he knew it sounded off somehow. For one thing, Dex couldn’t remember there being pipes in the supply closet; they were on the other side of the basement entirely. For another thing, it was the middle of the day and the only person who would be at the Haus would be Nursey, who had a midday break on Tuesdays and Thursdays that he used to nap in Chowder’s room.

Or at least, everyone else was supposed to be in class, but it was undoubtedly Holster’s voice that he heard as the door slammed behind a sleepy-faced and half-dressed Nursey.

“Work out your shit, dudes. I’m on a mission to relieve the Haus of any and all sexual tension before I graduate. I’ll be back for you two later.”

It took about two minutes before Nursey gave up his half-assed efforts at trying to open the clearly locked door. It only took Dex one and a half before it started getting harder to take a full breath.

Okay, so maybe he was a little claustrophobic. And maybe he was a lot freaking out. And maybe verging on hyperventilating and a full blown panic attack. He tried to remember the techniques his childhood therapist taught him to calm himself down, but he couldn’t focus.

He was stuck in a cycle of cantbreath-breathingtoofast-needmoreair-cantbreat.

Dex came back to himself with a warm hand on his shoulder and a steady stream of words flowing around him. His back was braced against the door and Nursey was crouched in front of him, looking more serious than Dex had ever seen him.

“There you go, just like that. Breathe with me. You back with me, Will?”

He nodded, but couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He felt his face flush in embarrassment. Dex couldn’t fucking believe he had a panic attack, his first in over two years, in front of Nursey of all people.

Nursey sat back on his haunches, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry I was chirping you about being claustrophobic. I didn’t know it was actually a thing. It never, like, come up before.”

The way he moved brought Dex’s attention to the thick bands of ink on Nursey’s bicep, the powerfully corded muscles of his forearm, and the fact that he was incredibly shirtless. Dex barely held down the hysterical feeling laughter that was bubbling up in his chest.

The horrifying and hilarious truth of the matter was that Holster… wasn’t wrong. Or at least, he was half right. Dex was embarrassingly attracted to Nursey. He thought it was hiding it well, but apparently not. Jesus fucking christ, he was minutes out of a panic attack and his first thought was to ogle Nursey.

He had to find a way out. Between the stress of being stuck in a fucking closet (literally, in this case, because fuck knows he’s used to being stuck in the metaphorical closet), and the stress of…. Nursey, he wasn’t sure if he could handle it. And who knew how long Holster would leave them there.

Dex scrubbed a hand over his hair. “It’s whatever, man. Like you said, never came up.”

He tried his best to think about anything except the walls of the closet, and just how tight the space felt. Dex focused on the scratchy feel of his hair on his palms, the hole in the toe of his sock, the place where his leg was flung out and it brushed against Nurse’s soft cotton sleep pants. The place where his jeans felt a little too tight, where his cell phone was pressed into his thigh.

Goddamn it. Of course, his fucking phone. With fumbling fingers, he tried to pull it out of his pocket. The flush reignited under his skin. Stupid fucking panic attacks and stupid fucking anxiety and stupid goddamn Holster. The more he struggled with it, the more difficult it was to shove his hand into his jeans.

Dex felt his heart rate rising, his blood pumping in his ears, and hot tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Nursey seemed to understand what he was trying to do. He slowly pulled Dex’s hands away from his pocket and slipped his own nimble fingers into the denim before quickly pulling out Dex’s phone. He handed it to Dex only long enough to swipe the unlock code, then Nursey took it back and quickly began typing away.

When Dex noticed that his hands were still shaking, a fresh wave of tears tried to push its way out. The anger helped him get the panic under control, just a little. He pressed his palms down on the concrete, hard, trying to visualize pushing all the way through the foundation.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed sitting that way, how long Nursey spent texting on his phone. He zoned out until he felt a warm hand cover his own. He looked down, amazed at how warm Nursey was and how cold his own was.

“Bitty’s on his way. Think you can make it another five minutes or so?”

Dex nodded. It’s not like they had any other choice, anyway. Nursey nodded back, before he cleared his throat.

“So…” Dex had hoped they could avoid the whole talking part of things, just sit there until Bitty let them back out. Apparently, Nursey actually wanted to talk, though. Dex didn’t have the energy to try to fight him on it.

Dex let his head knock back against the door. “What?”

“I’m not, like… bothering you, right?”

Dex could barely contain his laughter. Generally, the answer to that question was yes, Nursey was bothering Dex. His fake chill demeanor, his stupidly pretty face, the chirps Dex desperately wanted to be flirting but weren’t. It all bothered Dex way more than he wanted it to.

“Probably, but what specifically are you talking about?”

Nursey looked… Was he blushing? Dex lifted his head so he could get a better look at his partner. Yes, definitely blushing.

“The, y’know. The whole sexual tension thing. The flirting.”

Dex couldn’t figure out what Nursey meant. It was the right subject, but Nursey wasn’t telling Dex to back off, because he was making things super awkward, and couldn’t he just see that Nursey wasn’t interested?

Nursey must have read the confusion on Dex’s face, because he followed up with, “I don’t try to, but apparently i don’t try hard enough not to. If it makes you uncomfortable or whatever, I can stop.”

“Wait, what? But I was the one flirting with you.”

They stared at each other, wide-eyed for a second. Dex leaned forward, moving slowly so that Nursey could pull back if he needed to. He pressed their lips together, a barely there kiss. And then another, and another.

A few seconds later, shouting from upstairs broke them apart.

Bitty yanked open the door looking the picture of a southern storm. He quickly looked Nursey and Dex up and down to make sure they were okay, then turned on his heel, and started marching back up the basement steps. Dex was very glad that he wasn’t Holster right now.

He picked himself up from the floor, then held a hand down to Nursey, who threaded their fingers together once he was standing. They both leaned in. Dex was so ready to put the whole mess behind him, and maybe definitely make out for the next two hours. Suddenly, Nursey pulled back.

“But, like… How does working on a boat work when you’re claustrophobic?”

Dex rolled his eyes, but pulled Nursey back in for another kiss.

anonymous asked:

hey girl can you do one where the reader gets a lot of twitter hate and so they get really insecure and josh has to convince her he loves her no matter what? thanks so much, i love your work and you so much

JOSH DUN IMAGINE

triggers: hate messages, self hate (idk it’s not bad promise) 

You know that you shouldn’t be scrolling through the hash tag “joshdeservesbetter” but you are, because you’re curious and because it’s trending. You also know that your eyes are watering but you’re on the tour bus and there is no way in hell you’re letting yourself cry in front of the guys. Another push of the refresh button, another new slew of tweets full of hate. The past few hours had consisted of scrolling through the comments written to tear you down. They seemed to be doing their job, however, because here you were with a sinking feeling in your chest as you read yet another hateful tweet. Were you really this awful? This annoying?  This fat? Was your acne really that bad?  Did your face bother people that much?

You can feel Josh watching you from the corner of your eye but he isn’t saying anything so you continue along your journey of self-inflicted torture. You’re another 5 tweets down when one particularly popular tweet catches your eye.  It reads: ‘Josh’s natural light gets duller when Y/N’s at his side’ And that’s it.  That’s what makes the tears fall. Do they think you don’t know this? You know you don’t deserve Josh. For God sakes you weren’t even dating when you first realized this. This is what keeps you up at night, knowing the person that you love deserves so much than you.

All those menacing thoughts were going through your head when a voice starts speaking, “Y/N, what’s wrong?” Tyler asks.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just missing home, I guess.” God you were an awful liar. Hopefully this doesn’t sound like total bullshit coming out of your mouth.

“I’m sorry, I know it can get rough.” he replies.

“Yeah, it can,” you cough awkwardly before standing up, “I’m just gonna go clean up a bit, yeah?” You don’t even wait for a response from Tyler before you’re rushing past him.  You needed to get out of there.

You had your eyes on the bathroom when you could hear someone approaching behind you.

“I know you don’t just miss home,” Josh says.  He reaches out his hand and delicately brushes a stray strand of hair out of your face.  You rub your running nose with the sleeve of your sweatshirt and look down at your feet.  

“I do, I’m fine though-“ you lie.  

But Josh knows better.  He snakes his arm through yours and drags you to the back of the bus where the bunks are located.  He sits on his, and all but pulls you down next to him.

“I saw you glued to your phone, talk to me,” he urges.

Josh’s arm winds around your waist, fingers resting gently on your side. Normally you wouldn’t mind the feeling, but not now that you had gained weight. You could feel Josh’s fingers digging into the fat on your side and it disgusted you. No doubt it disgusted Josh as well. You squirmed in Josh’s grasp; trying to move his hand away as tears filled your eyes once again. In response to your sudden embarrassment, you bury your face into the crook of his neck, and allowed the tears to flow freely down your cheeks and into the hollow of Josh’s collarbones.

Josh slipped his hand underneath the hem of your shirt, fingertips gently pushing down the waistband of both your sweatpants and underwear to expose your hipbone fully. In a gentle pattern, his thumb started rubbing circles on the exposed skin. What used to be a comforting gesture was now nothing short of uncomfortable.

“Stop.” You murmured softly, your voice thick with tears. Immediately, Josh could tell that something was wrong, just in the tone of your voice.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked gently, but his voice gave away just how concerned he was.

“Josh, do you think I’m… fat?” you asked softly, not daring to look into his eyes. You nervously played with the hem of your shirt, picking at a loose thread.

“What?” Josh said, sounding almost too shocked. Like an act.  “Are you serious?  What’s this about?”

“Just answer the question,” you pleaded.  You had to know.

“No, love, I don’t think you’re fat.”  Josh turned on the bed to face you, reaching for your hands as you tried to pull away.  “Now tell me why you’re asking.”

“No reason,” you mutter. “Just wondering.”

Josh shook his head, knowing you were lying to him. ”No, there must be a reason. You can tell me. You know you can tell me anything.”

Your fake smile fell to the frown you had been suppressing. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out except for a strangled sob as the dam finally broke loose and tears streamed down your face at full fledge. Josh had this uncanny ability to break down all of your walls, no matter how strong you tried to build them up.

Strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into Josh’s lap.  Josh hated seeing you cry, simply hated it. And when you wouldn’t tell him what was wrong, but started crying, he was worried even more. “Baby,” he whispered, drawing small patterns on your back to try to calm you down, “C’mon, talk to me.”

“The fans—“ you choked out, “they’ve been saying things.” You managed to say in between sobs.

”Babe, what did the fans say?” he asked softly.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket, handing it to Josh, not muttering a word. The Twitter app had been left open, all Josh had to do was unlock your phone and the source of all your tears would be there for him to see.

‘@joshuadun you realize you’re like, proper famous now, right? you can get any girl you want… #joshdeservesbetter’

‘#joshdeservesbetter than kissing a butterface before bed every night’

‘#joshdeservesbetter than EVERYTHING Y/N IS’

‘just don’t understand how someone like @joshuadun ends up with someone like Y/N #joshdeservesbetter’

‘#joshdeservesbetter than someone unable to keep up with their body’

Josh brought a hand up to cover over his mouth, closing the phone and setting it on the end table. Those were just the first few tweets as he scrolled down, he wasn’t able to read beyond that.

“See, Josh? I told y-you I was awful!” you cried.

“No, baby, you’re not. Those aren’t real fans. Those are fake fans.” he said, “They’re only trying to tear you down.”

“Not a single one of those things are true, you’re beautiful and funny, and smart and talented and you deserve so much.”

You felt your chest tighten as Josh began rocking you back and forth.  You needed to get out of there, you felt suffocated by Josh’s words, filled with love.  You knew you didn’t deserve to breathe them in. You started to pull away, but Josh tightens his hold.

“I know you’re not going to believe a single word I say right now, and that’s okay,” he whispers.  “But I’m going to keep saying them until you do.  Y/F/N, you are a beautiful, beautiful person. And I want you to just try to believe me when I say this to you. Everything those people are saying, it’s fake. You are not fat, baby, not by any means.  You’re perfect.”

You looked up at Josh, wiping away the stubborn tears that had still refused to leave your eyes. “Really?” you asked, biting your lip in a way that drove Josh absolutely insane.

“Really babe.” That answer must have been enough for you, because you finally smiled, and ducked your head, blush spreading across your cheeks.

“I’ll try,” you mutter, letting your head fall back against Josh’s chest.  His hand ran tenderly up and down the back of your spine, and you realized it didn’t make you squirm.  “I’ll try to believe you.”

lightbringersamael  asked:

Prompt alert: Lucifer getting used to flying again and ends up taking Chloe for a flight

“Wait,” Ella says. “Are you serious? He has wings? Wingy-wings?”

“Yeah.” Chloe rubs the bridge of her nose. “I know I sound a little cracked, but… I kind of figured that you were the only person I could talk to who might get it.”

“Aw, man. That is so sweet. But.” Ella is not going to be distracted. “He has, you know – ” She does an improvised Funky Chicken in the middle of the forensics lab. “Can he fly? Because I’m sorry, that would be awesome.”

Chloe eyes her narrowly. “You’re taking this surprisingly well.”

“Why not?” Ella shrugs. “I’ve always known there was something different about him. Weird. I mean, not weird – well, yes, weird, a lot weird, but more than just that. Him being an angel, I can’t say I’m all that shocked, you know? It’s not like it’s something that I think can’t happen. I believe in a book where it happens a lot. Hey, has he announced anything? Like the two of you are meant to be and having a miracle baby?”

Chloe’s look turns cold. “No.”

“Darn.” Ella sighs. “Anyway. Wow. I have so many questions. I’m not gonna ask them, because  he’ll do that thing where he spooks and runs away like a startled turtle. If turtles ran, but you know what I mean. Is he here?”

“Yeah. In the break room.” At the other woman’s look of barely restrained curiosity, Chloe sighs and decides that since the cat, or rather the angel, is out of the bag, they might as well at least allow Ella a chance to peek. Not that Lucifer is going to be strutting around the station with his wings (or any other part of him, hopefully) hanging out, but still. “Fine. Come on.”

They leave Ella’s lab and start down the corridor to the break room. Just before they enter, however, they hear a familiar voice complaining, “Lucifer, did you eat my pudding again?”

“I did not.”

“It was right there!” Trust Dan’s dessert-related tribulations to be ongoing. “Look, I might not mind letting you have it if you asked, but you can’t just grab it and – ”

“Fine, if it’s that big of a deal, I’ll just fly down to the corner store and act as your personal messenger angel, shall I? More of Gabby’s gig than mine, but if you insist – ”

“Lucifer, can you not say crazy shit for two seconds and just – how’d you fly, anyway – ”

“Oh for goodness’ sake, Daniel! WITH THESE!”

There is a rush of air, a whoosh, a sudden light that does not come from the dismal fluorescents, and papers swirl off down the hall in a miniature cyclone. Chloe stops, stares, and then rushes forward, Ella on her heels, to wrench the door open and find Dan flattened across the far wall looking as if he is about to have a heart attack. This is understandable, due to the fact that Lucifer is standing with wings unfolded, bursting from the back of his usual smart suit jacket, tips almost touching the workplace safety poster on one wall and the coffee machine on the other. At the sight of her, he folds them tidily against his shoulders and smiles brightly. “Ah! Detective!”

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anonymous asked:

Hey babe~ (do I sound like Zen lol) could you do a HC with a MC that is really sensitive. For example, get a way too excited when they get little gifts like a book or bubble tea. Yet, even the slightest thing wrong can make them get really depressed. You can see that I'm not a stable human being. I become gullible just by the smallest acts of kindness and literally started crying today because someone broke my eraser in half. I'm a high schooler so I obviously have issues...

YOU DON’T HAVE ISSUES I AM THE EXACT SAME WAY I AM THE MOST SENSITIVE KID YOU WILL EVER MEET LIKE I CRY OVER EVERY LITTLE THING AND WILL GET SO EXCITED OVER SMALL THINGS AND I’M SO GULLIBLE TO ACTS OF KINDNESS WHAT YOU WROTE DESCRIBES ME PERFECTLY OKAY I UNDERSTAND I’M SUPER EMOTIONAL
(sorry for the screaming I got excited that I’m not the only person like this,,,,)

Yoosung:
-You’re both just a couple of sensitive puppies.
-If one of you is upset, the other is upset.
-You guys are a mess.
-But in the nicest way possible.
-You both understand each other so well because you’re so similar with your emotions.
-You can also bet Yoosung will be right with you getting excited over bubble tea.
-You both get hyped over every little thing, it’s invigorating to have someone to scream and freak out with.
-You gets very protective when he sees you crying. Even if you try to pass it off as not a big deal, it’s a big deal to him.
-Someone made you cry and that’s not okay.
-He’ll make things right, sometimes meaning he gets whoever did it to apologize, sometimes they refuse.
-When you get depressed, so does he. He likes to hold you to make you feel better, but if you don’t like that, he talks about other things to distract you, and hopefully makes you laugh.
-It always works.
-He’s worried about how you can be so gullible to nice things people do for you and keeps an eye on everyone that is being too friendly. If they do anything he doesn’t trust, he intervenes. It’s not so controlling to the point of over protection and manipulation, he steps off when you tell him to. He’s just keeping an eye out for you.

Zen:
-So. Cute.
-Cannot. PROCESS.
-Because you get so excited, you are like the biggest cheerleader for his acting.
-He gets a new role, you are buzzing with excitement. You ramble about how amazing and talented your boyfriend is as you jump and clap in excitement.
-Really feeding his ego, aren’t ya?
-But, he hates when you cry or you get depressed.
-He always panics, no matter what it is.
-He doesn’t care if it’s something small. He always takes it seriously.
-Your emotions are valid. He really stresses that if you ever feel like a wimp for crying over things.
-In his eyes, tears = upset, and it’s his job to fix whatever it is.
-You can’t be so gullible to kindness _____ the wolves are gonna get you~
-He is secretly extremely nervous about you trusting people so easily because the wolves. He’s scared of someone taking advantage of you and you not realizing it until it’s too late. It might even keep him awake at night occasionally. You can bet that anyone who takes advantage of you will be fought.
-When you’re depressed, he’ll take you out somewhere to get fresh air and clear your head, while also giving you reassuring words and joking around in hopes to cheer you up.

Jaehee:
-She gets very flustered every time you cry.
-She can be such a mom about it.
-You have no idea how many tissues she keeps in her purse at all times.
-She sees you tearing up and frantically rustles through her purse for tissues.
-But she loves how excited you can get.
-You can imagine the amount of fangirling you do together.
-It makes giving you special little gifts “just because” even more rewarding because even if it’s just a new book you can’t stop smiling and thanking her.
-She loves making you happy like that.
-She’s learned a thing or two about relaxing since she stopped working for Jumin, so she is able to calm you down when you start crying.
-She gives you little presents when you get depressed since you get so happy over even the smallest thing.
-It never fails.
-She isn’t too worried about your trust in everyone that is kind to you. She finds it nice that you see everyone with such an open mind, like you see everyone as good.
-She’ll know when to keep you in check, though, if a bad person tries to take advantage of you. If anyone were to take advantage of you, they’d definitely hear from Jaehee.

Jumin:
-You’re very emotional and he’s very emotionless (well, on the outside)
-He’s very good at keeping you out of stressful or overwhelming situations somehow.
-It’s like he has a sixth sense that tells him when you’re getting upset.
-He can sense your distress from a mile away.
-So you have nothing to worry about.
-He can tell when you’re getting upset and he will immediately take you away from whatever is bothering you and calm you down.
-He wipes your tears gently off your cheeks and kisses where they used to be.
-You’re going to have to work even harder to keep him from spoiling you after he sees how excited you get over the smallest of gifts.
-He loves putting a smile on your face, so he will buy you little presents everyday if you don’t stop him.
-He eventually realizes the gifts are more special if they aren’t an everyday thing.
-Overall, he is very good at handling your emotions for you.
-Lots of supervision when he realizes how easily you trust others. You have such a pure innocent soul it kind of worries him. You could easily be taken advantage of, but he will never let that happen.

Saeyoung:
-He doesn’t tease you nearly as much when he finds out how sensitive you are because he would hate himself if he made you cry.
-When you do cry, he tears up too. He’s really sensitive to your emotions.
-Anything that makes you cry is valid to him. He won’t judge you for crying over spilt milk because if it’s making you cry, it means it’s stressing and upsetting you, which is not okay.
-You got along with Seven at first because when either of you were excited, it rubbed off on the other, and he always entered the chatroom energetically.
-Even now, as Saeyoung, he is still affected by how excitable you are.
-He feels like his old self again because of you and your positivity.
-Because of that, when you get depressed, it’s like his world is dark.
-He does everything he can to make you feel better.
-Expect lots of bubble tea.
-It’s no wonder you fell for Unknown, you’re so gullible, which is worrying. He is very protective of you because of that. If he gets suspicious of someone, he voices his concerns. Thankfully, because of him, nobody takes advantage of you.

V:
-You don’t have to worry because V never does anything that could make you cry. He’s so gentle and considerate, you have nothing to worry about.
-Also, anytime you do cry, he manages to cheer you up and calm you down perfectly.
-When you get depressed, he’ll ask you to read him a story. That way, you can take your mind off of whatever is bothering you.
-It usually works. If it doesn’t, he’ll give you reassuring words. They never feel like empty words either because you know V in sincere.
-Whenever you get excited over little things like books and bubble tea, he just stares at you with the most peaceful, lovestruck smile.
-A “that’s my beautiful wonderful other half wow i love them and they’re all mine” smile
-The excitement makes his life so much brighter than it used to be.
-So I guess you can say you’re his light.
-He’s very trusting of people also, but he’s cautious after what happened to Rika. He doesn’t trust new people like he used to, especially people around you. He acts like nothing is wrong, but he observes everyone that gets close to you. He calms down soon enough, he just doesn’t want to lose his light. He’s paranoid.

Saeran:
-If anyone ever makes you cry, they are immediately on his bad side.
-“I want them to die.”
-“Saeran, it’s okay. They just broke my eraser.”
-“Your point?”
-He hates seeing you in tears, but he loves when you get all excited over something he sees as minuscule.
-Like he’ll offer you the last of his food when he’s done eating and you get so happy. Or sometimes when he asks if you want to go out on a date you become ecstatic.
-It’s refreshing having such unconfined positivity buzzing next to him all day.
-It makes it even more sad when you’re upset because he’d rather see you smiling over bubble tea than crying.
-Even if it’s something small, he is very concerned. You being sad makes him sad, so when you get depressed, he hates it.
-He’s not good at finding the right words, but he never leaves your side when you’re sad, no matter how long it is.
-It shows how much he truly loves you and how concerned he is for you.
-He doesn’t trust people at all, and you’re overly trusting. You balance each other out. Nobody will dare take advantage of you when they know Saeran is with you because if anyone were to do something to you, it would be the last thing they did.

Fuckboy!Hoseok

Hobi in snapbacks & tank tops is my weakness >.< I hope he had a wonderful day and sorry for the random posts today but I’m just very excited to celebrate the birth of the light of my life ;)

warning: slightly mature themes since … ya know, he’s a fuckboy haha


The name Jung Hoseok was infamous in your college. From one end of the campus to the other, everyone knew about the resident fuckboy, who denied being one. Hoseok claimed he was a lover, as he rolled out of yet another strangers bed, told people he wanted to make others happy as he crawled out the windows of married lecturers homes, that he just had a lot of love to give, as he convinced people into threesomes.

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anonymous asked:

I've been having the most crappiest months ever, my life is a mess right now and I am so fragile, everything makes me cry or feel emotionless. And to top it of my mum is having surgery tomorrow. I could really use a fluffy fic, to remember that hopefully everything will be alright. That there's a real son why I'm going through these horrible times xx

i’m so sorry this is weeks late, my love, i hope you’re doing okay, know i’m rooting for you, and here is some halloween sterek to hopefully make you feel better

*

The first Halloween back home from college is not one Stiles is looking forward to. Nor is it one he wants to celebrate with full force and a damn party.

Scott, however, is keen to embrace the festivities now they’re able to, and he arranges for all of them to go to a “sweet” Halloween do at the town hall.

Stiles mutters darkly about Winifred, Mary and Sarah coming to curse them all, and Derek (to his huge surprise) starts humming the creepy song from the start of the movie as he throws a cushion at Stiles’ head.

He’s seemingly, astonishingly, totally okay with going to a party for Halloween.

Stiles attempts to resist, but his best friend is just so damn earnest.

Derek doesn’t even try to fight Scott’s excited announcement, only asks if they have to wear costumes.

“Of course!” Scott bounces over, claps him on the shoulder, “That’s the whole point!”

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Perverted Bunny Mask: Jeon Jungkook x Killer AU ft. Min Yoongi EXTRA 1

PBM Extra 1

| Part 1| Part 2 | Part 3  | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11| Part 12 | Part 13 | EXTRA 1 |

Chapter 1: JUNGKOOK POINT OF VIEWS:

Author: Taettybear

Words: 3.2 k

Genre: Smut/Gore/Assassins/Killer JK/ Drugs/ Gangs

Rating: M


“Yah, Jungkook!”

The said male roughly ran a hand through his hair in irritation as Taehyung called out to him. Jungkook was just about to walk out when Taehyung’s next words made him stop.

“Fuck, fine! Do whatever you want! Make contact with Min Y/N, kiss her, fuck her, I don’t care anymore! I’m just not assuring your safety!” Taehyung grunted, a large scowl on his face as his fingers raced over his keyboard.

Jungkook’s whole body jerked and he whipped around, staring at the older man in disbelief.

“You’re lying.”


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All That Remains of Lance McClain Part 3

hey all, sorry i wasn’t as active recently, I had to study for an exam that i really really needed to pass! Anyway, here’s part 3 of my what remains of edith finch au 

i had some trouble coming up with a way to connect lance to the game in a way that would make sense, considering how the game actually plays out in the end and i think i’ve come up with a good alternative?? anyway, please enjoy! I did cut it off at a cliff hanger, bc i felt like it was getting a bit too long. I will be continuing it soon, so don’t worry abt that!

Preview:

Keith looked up to see Hunk rooting through several cassettes before pulling one labeled ‘McClain House and family history, by Alexa McClain for Lance McClain.’ Pidge, who’s eye had been caught by an innocuous looking cassette player, grabbed it and handed it to Hunk, who put the cassette into it.


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