i did not sign up for this first thing in the morning

you know what would have been great? if ron got sorted into slytherin.

imagine– we have this kid on the train, the first friend harry meets, with his corned beef sandwiches and smudged nose. ron is eleven years old and he wants gryffindor, because he’s a weasley and that’s what always happens. but it doesn’t happen.

what a way to redeem slytherin house– or, god, at least complicate it. because ron is petty. he is mean and sharp and ambitious and jealous– and he is loyal to the ends of the earth. he is all those things, and he is and always has been good.

potter becomes before weasley in the alphabet, so harry says not slytherin please and gets told might as well be gryffindor. percy and fred and george are all sitting there in red and gold, ruffling the already-ruffled hair of the boy who lived, smug, and then ron sits down and the hat spits out slytherin!

c'mon it’d be fun. just imagine–

  • the weasleys freaking out– but even that first christmas molly sends him a sweater in beautiful green and silver.

  • snape taking points from gryffindor when ron breaks rules or mouths off. “i’m in your house.” “hm, couldn’t tell which weasley it was…” /drifts away

  • sitting with harry in potions and in flying– whatever classes they happen to share. meeting up to study. scarfing down their breakfasts at separate tables so they can go hang out in the empty classrooms before the day starts. hermione reads while they play exploding snap.
    • the trio signing up for all the same electives third year. this friendship being something they earn and work for; not just the one that looked easiest. (not to bash canon ron&harry, the bros to end all bros, but by putting this very obvious obstacle between them– it makes it that much clearer to the reader that this is a love worth fighting for, because they’re fighting for it).
    • ron being jealous that harry and hermione get to share this house, this home, these hours, while he’s stuck with malfoy and parkinson and goyle– because that would eat him up some days, some months, this insecure kid who’s been the last at everything all his life. this kid who always leaves and always comes back.

  • ron, who constantly compares himself to his brothers– not as smart, not as popular, not as good. one more nail in that coffin, here, yeah? he’s not a prefect, not a quidditch star, not a troublemaker– and even when he becomes those things, someone else has always gotten there first
    • well, i guess he got to this house first at least

  • ron still snaps at snape in potions, after hermione’s been ignored three times, “you know, sir, i think hermione might know the answer.” he still pulls the bars off harry’s window with a stolen, flying car. he still shows harry around the burrow shyly, not knowing what a wonder a warm home is. he still stands up in the shrieking shack as best as he can with a broken leg and tells a mass murderer that if he wants harry he’ll have to go through him first. 
    • ron weasley is a lot of things, but one of them is absolutely a true friend.

  • in their second year:
    • when everyone calls harry the heir, they eye ron at his side and sniff.
    • when hermione lays petrified in the medical ward, ron sits at her side and reads her homework assignments aloud and thinks my house this was my house
    • when ron hugs ginny’s damp, shaking frame after the chamber, ron says sorry and sorry and are you okay and i’m so sorry and ginny calls him an idiot.

  • the trio spends more time in the library with hermione, since ron can’t come to gryffindor tower to study, and homework remains a thing that has to happen. fred and george constantly try to sneak him into the tower anyway. 
    • “c'mon, ronnykins, you belong here, you deserve it, no one’s gonna fuss, it’s your BIRTHRIGHT,” and ron fusses and rolls his eyes at them
    • and then in fourth year in one of those periods where he’s not talking to harry and harry’s not talking to him– he just snaps at the twins
      • because it’s not, alright?
      • not his birthright, not his house, and maybe no one would fuss if he snuck in, maybe no one would care, and that makes it worse not better, because then he’s just that weasley who should’ve been gryffindor
      • and isn’t
    • (and harry overhears this caterwauling, feels his heart fall to his toes, and goes and awkwardly asks ron if he wants to go a few laps on his firebolt). 
    • (because, god, harry-the-chosen-one, harry-in-the-cupboard-under-the-stairs, harry-who’ll-save-us-all– he knows what it’s like to have should have beens on your shoulders, and he knows what it’s like to not be wanted).

  • ron cheers for gryffindor during quidditch matches in those first few years, and sits with hagrid and hermione and neville. harry’s seeker, and fred and george are beaters, and ginny becomes chaser eventually, and honestly screw the slytherin team. they have each and every one of them said disparaging things about ron’s mother.
    • harry and hermione badger ron into trying out for keeper fourth year; he and harry have been practicing on the quidditch pitch because its a non-library-shaped place to hang out where both of them are allowed. ron makes the slytherin roster, and malfoy grudgingly provides ron a team broom after the captain chews him out for a bit.
      • “he may be a weasley, but he’s our keeper, don’t you want to win, draco”
    • but the sort of things they spit in the locker room, the words the players hiss or snigger, the slurs that come easy to their tongues– ron would like to say that he considered just walking out of the cesspit, but instead he snipes and sasses and shouts and sometimes tries to spell slugs at the worst of them. 
      • it doesn’t do much, that one irritated voice of protest– except that it does. and he’s got a new (hand-me-down) wand, after the gilderoy fiasco, so the slugs even come out the right end.
    • fred gives him a black eye with a bludger one time (though ron does manage to block the quaffle) and molly sends a howler to gryffindor table with the morning post. (“RON DID YOU TATTLE”) (“IT WAS CLEARLY PERCY, FRED, SIT DOWN”)
      • (the weasleys often have family conversations across the great hall, with hufflepuffs and ravenclaws covering their ears long-sufferingly between them)

  • in the lake, it’s still ron hanging there in the water, still and bloated. it’s still harry’s heart that stutters in his chest, for all it’s just a game, just a game, just a game, right?

  • ron listens hard and tries to talk himself out of fist fights, all that next year in the slytherin common room as they read aloud rita skeeter articles.

  • when hermione calls dumbledore’s army to its first session in that pub, there are green scarves in that crowd– ron and one of the beaters who ron’s gotten to help glare to rest of the slytherin quidditch team into submission.

  • ron beats draco to being prefect (i think i remember it was dumbledore and not mcgonagall who seemed to award prefect status– snape doesn ’t get a say).
    • percy is SO PROUD, as usual, but so are fred and george. “did you see the little malfoy git? green with shame, my god.”

  • when harry has the dream about sirius, ron isn’t there to wake. but when draco’s pulled out of bed to be a professional bully– er, i mean inquisitorial squad member– ron follows at a careful distance and curses draco from behind. 
    • they ride thestrals over london. harry finds the prophecy and ron thinks about the sorts of things that get decided at your birth.  
    • sirius black was a son of slytherin who had a lion living in his chest that he couldn’t hide away. 
    • ron was meant to be gryffindor, and through a haze of injury and fear he watches sirius die just out of harry’s reach.

  • just imagine: ron with his temper and his sharp words and his fierce loyalty. ron who looks into the mirror of erised and sees house cups and prefect badges and ambitions earned– he could belong in slytherin. there is nothing wrong with wanting things, and he wants them so bad.

  • there are so many reasons to fight a war, and so many ways. harry and his sacrifices, his loving resignation. hermione’s good right hook and bottomless bag of supplies. luna, brilliant and a bit batty. lee jordan’s radio and mcgonagall’s burning patience and brittle, certain bones.

  • just imagine: when the last battle comes, there is a slytherin on the field who is not snape.

  • when draco and his parents walk away, in that last battle, ron–
    • who slept in the same dormitory as the boy for six years
    • who heard draco’s nightmares and saw him paling and desperate all sixth year
    • who is as pureblooded as lucius’s spoiled whelp
    • who remembers grimacing at the thought of squibs
    • who has known magic all his life
    • who spotted draco penning letters home to his mother every sunday and hiding them when the other boys could see–
    • ron sees them going.
      • he sounds no alarms. he says no farewells.
      • he turns back to his friends, and his fight, and lets them be.

  • just imagine: when harry kneels on the train platform and his second son asks him “but what if i get sorted slytherin, dad?” harry can say, “the bravest man i ever knew was in slytherin house. whatever you are, wherever you go, we’re going to be so proud of you." 
    • and they can both gaze over to where ron is squawking beside his daughter’s trolley of luggage because crookshanks (who will live to be forty eight million years old) has latched onto his shins with a violent fondness.

In general there is like. a whole category of Voltron angst premises that utterly fails to make me feel anything because it often severely underestimates the strength of the characters that it proposes to be breaking.

Like… Listen. Lance pretty dang likely had internal injuries and had spent a pretty impressive amount of time unresponsive and he woke up like that and shot Sendak in the shoulder before nearly back out again. This tells us Lance woke up, probably in no small amount of pain, probably pretty loopy since he remembered absolutely none of it afterwards, and the absolute first thing that occurred to him to do is Sendak was right there and he had a clear shot so, fuck that guy. He got in that situation in the first place because he saw a bomb going off and his first priority was to protect Coran- who at the time he’d known for… days, maybe? 

Pidge, the fourteen-year-old, who was pretty much entirely alone on the castle during that same time, having just lost contact with Allura, losing Rover and then hearing Shiro get tortured by Sendak- still kept her head about her enough to try and bait Sendak off with a hologram and was a major part of that fight. I mean. literally, take this emotionally compromised kid and go “you’re officially alone on a spaceship with murderous adult soldiers. They have your friends. They’re hurting your friends. You are the only one in position to do anything. Have fun.” And she won

Keith had his shoulder hacked pretty impressively in the first room of the Trial of Marmora and was given multiple opportunities to bail with a pretty clear pattern that the next room would be worse and have more attackers and Shiro states it as a given that Keith will not give up. Kolivan unambiguously tells him going in this is a life-or-death scenario. This is also Keith who willingly soloed freaking Zarkon with Coran actively telling him that he had no chance of surviving that fight because Zarkon is not getting the Black Lion.

Allura destroyed the last thing she had of her father in order to protect her team and let herself be captured by Zarkon in order to protect Shiro. She caught her second wind and held out against Haggar as best as she possibly could even knowing those odds were not good.

Coran picked a fight with Zarkon’s entire fleet piloting a ship ten thousand years old, alone, and did pretty dang good

Hunk actively, voluntarily, and enthusiastically picked a fight with a planet-eating monster stated to be one of the most dangerous things in space and long before that, all of his misgivings about signing up to save the universe evaporated like morning dew in the Sahara as soon as he saw what Shay and her people were going through. 

A lot of “angst” content seems to really disrespect or even ignore that these people are fighters. Survivors. These aren’t people who flake under pressure. In Shiro’s case, he literally never would have made it if he was. We see that at his worst, during his missing year, when he was utterly baffled by the idea anyone would help him and was pretty unsubtly about to be knocked out and experimented on- he was full of fight. There wasn’t much he could do but he wasn’t going down easily and if nothing else, the fact that there were two good-sized soldiers in full armor in the room taking the role of sedating him would tell us that Shiro didn’t exactly obediently walk to that room in the first place.

I see a lot of stuff that acts like Lance could get captured and in the time it’d take the team to get to him he could be ‘turned to the dark side’ or broken as a person and it’s like… the empire had a solid year to work on Shiro when the latter had the assumption that no one who would want to help him would even have the technology to reach him or even know he was alive in the first place and the empire didn’t win. What honestly makes you think they could take a month and destroy any of the team?

SKAM S04E05 Clip 5 - Imagine all the people living life in peace

ESKILD: “You’re the one called Elias, right?”
EVA: Elias is your brother?
ESKILD: Then I go up to him and then I stroke him, just a little bit on his side at first, then I feel like a shiver going up his spine. *Gag noises* Then he left pretty quickly, but he seemed open for more fun.
CHRIS: Are you crazy?
EVA: Stop! I can send you the money.
CHRIS: Send me the money? What?
EVA: I can send it! How much is it? Hello!
CHRIS: 112.
EVA: It doesn’t!
CHRIS: 112 for a beer.
EVA: I can give you..
CHRIS: 112,50. 112,40..
[Are you coming?]
EVA: 112,40?
CHRIS: Point 40.
[John Lennon - Imagine]
EVEN: Thank you!
CHRIS: Oh my God
SANA: Yeah..
CHRIS: Yeah..
SANA: Oh, I love you so much.

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ask and you shall receive | one (m)

[credit.] 

pairing: jung hoseok x reader, sugar daddy! hoseok
genre/warnings: smut, lots of oral, slow burn, dirty talk, dom! hoseok
words: 13,865
summary: your sugar daddy says you don’t have to sleep with him if you don’t want to…trouble is, you do want to. You’re just nervous and a little inexperienced, but he catches on quick and begins to teach you the true pleasures of sex, and boy, are they good…

 a/n: in the end I had to split this into two parts rip. It was already nearly 14k with just one smut scene haha. but oh well, that means more detail for part two…

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procraesthetics  asked:

I wonder what would happen if Dudley grew up in the wizarding world but still as a muggle? like kind of reverse AU where his parents are dead and he has to go to Lily for whatever reason? do you think he would become bitter like Petunia about magic?

Lily remembered her sister, how there had been a time she was curious and delighted about magic, before it slowly sank in that she could look and not touch.

The last thing Petunia had said to Lily before she died was a chilly goodbye, ending a holiday dinner where they’d had a shrieking row in the entryway. Petunia had said freak and Lily had hissed better than this, better than this being my whole fucking world, Tune, do you even see yourself, are you happy–

And now here was Dudley Vernon Dursley fussing himself to sleep as Lily walked the halls of the Godric’s Hollow house. His tiny soft hands with their tiny soft fingernails curled under her chin, the same way Harry always had.

She passed James, who was gently bouncing his way up the hall the opposite way. “I think he’s asleep,” James mouthed over Harry’s tousled head. His hair was the same mess, bent down to peer at his sleeping son.

Lily stopped where she stood, her nephew heavy on her chest, her husband smiling, her sister buried. “James,” she said. “How are we going to do this?”

“Oh,” he said. “Hey. Don’t you cry, you’ll start them off– unless you need to cry, I mean, you go ahead, hey, sweetheart, hey, it’s alright, you just let it out.” He stepped forward, shifting Harry gently to his other shoulder, and pressed his forehead to hers. “We tuck them in, okay, that’s what we do next. Then we go to our own bed, okay, and go to sleep, and when we wake up it’ll be a new day.”

“A new day,” she said. “Another day– James, that’s the– I’m so tired.”

“So let’s sleep. It’ll look better in the morning,” he said. “And if it doesn’t look better this morning, it’ll look better in the next one.”

“You promise?”

“Better than that. I’ll show you. Every day,” he said and kissed her cold forehead.

Dudley had not shown up on the Potters’ doorstep with the milk bottles. Lily had gotten a phone call from the landline she still had installed in Godric’s Hollow, about an accident, and she had gone down to the Muggle police station to identify the bodies.

The cupboard under the stairs was filled with spiders, broomsticks, and the sewing machine Lily’s mother had given her when she married James– that’s all. Dudley slept downstairs. Uncle Remus taught Dudley and Harry to knock out coded messages through the wall their rooms shared.

In the backyard, beside a rickety porch and an ambitious hedge, James taught them to fly– first on little tot brooms where their toes brushed the grass the whole time, then out of the barrels of practice brooms James used for lessons and coaching Little League Quidditch.

When the boys turned ten, five weeks apart, they both got shiny new Nimbuses on Dudley’s birthday (which came first), and a set of enchanted Quidditch balls on Harry’s, to share. The Bludgers were enchanted to be very kind but Dudley spent long afternoons whacking them far afield while Harry chased the Snitch at his back.

Harry had a scar on his forehead, like a jagged bit of lightning. Dudley had no scars– the car crash that had killed his parents hadn’t touched him where he sat strapped into a car seat in the back, chewing on a stuffed dinosaur toy.

Lily did not believe in lying to the children. She was bare years off being a child herself, and spare moments on the far side of a war. When Dudley asked about his parents, she told him there had been an accident. She pulled pictures off the shelf and wrote Petunia’s old university friends for more.

Photographs came by mailman, the images still and unnatural to Dudley’s eye. Every day he’d gone out to play, for years, he’d been waving at the picture near the back door of his aunt and uncle on their wedding day, and they waved back every time.

“She was very clever,” Lily said. “Your mom liked to know everything.”

“And my dad?”

“Vernon liked… cars?” James offered. “That’s the word, right, Lily?”

“I didn’t know him very well,” Lily said. “He liked drills, I think; he worked for a firm that made them, and he talked about that a lot.”

Dudley brushed his thumbs over the dull edges of the photos. When Lily went off to Auror headquarters the next morning for work, James bundled the boys up and took them on an impromptu invisible tour of Grunnings Drill Manufacturing Inc.

They tiptoed down halls and past water coolers and ringing fellytones. They held hands under the Cloak as they dodged around the machines on the manufacturing floor, thumping and pounding and whirring away loudly enough that Harry and Dudley could whisper to each other under the noise. An elevator took them all the way up to the top floor. Harry whistled cheerily and eerily along with the elevator music while the Muggles slowly edged toward the doors and pressed floor buttons lower than they’d originally wanted.

There were boxes and cabinets and folders and desks and staticky monitor screens full of numbers strewn in endless grids. “Merlin’s knuckles,” said Harry, who was seven and a half and rather proud of this expletive. “People can look at this all day, their whole lives, and not die?”

“Work is hard work,” said James.

“At least mum gets to curse things.”

“But my dad liked it?” Dudley said, peering at a white board that was bleeding enthusiastic marker. “There’s a lot of things, here. Maybe he liked knowing things, too.”

When the boys asked about the scar on Harry’s forehead, Lily and James looked at each other. “You know how sometimes we sit with Uncle Remus and talk about a war?” James said. “Or with Ms. Amelia or Mr. Mundungus.”

“Mr. Mundungus is kinda smelly,” Harry said helpfully.

“It’s not nice to say so though,” said James, and Lily made a face.

“Are we raising them to be nice?” Lily said.

“I’m trying,” said James.

“You talk about a war,” said Harry and shrugged. Dudley nodded.

“There was a very bad man, in those days,” said James.

“Voldemort,” said Lily, and James made a face.

“He was so scary a lot of people don’t like to say his name, even now,” said James. “And he was coming after us because we had been fighting against him, in the war. He came to the house and he tried to hurt you, Harry. But it didn’t work. It hurt him instead, and gave you that scar.”

“Is he going to come back?” said Dudley, who was paler than his normal pink.

“No one’s heard of him since then,” said Lily.

“Where were you?” said Harry, because all his life they had been right there.

“Oh,” said Lily, but her throat closed up.

“We were at Dudley’s mum and dad’s funeral,” said James. “Our friend– our friend Sirius was watching you two. The bad man, he came to the house. He. Well. I.”

“Sirius died,” said Lily, one hand squeezing James’s knee and the other reaching down to brush hair off Dudley’s forehead. “You lived, Harry, and Voldemort vanished. And that’s why sometimes people stare in the streets, baby.” James tweaked Harry’s collar absently.

Two days after they had buried Lily’s sister, the Potters had stood together in the first chills of November and buried James’s brother.

Sirius had been burned off the Black family tree years before. Lily and James had talked to his cousin Andromeda, to Remus, and then they had laid him to rest in the Potter family plot. At the wake, they’d told old jokes about squirrel breath, shedding, and man’s best friend. Remus had fallen asleep on their couch and stayed for a month.

It took a two hour row with HR for Lily to get two passes to the Ministry’s Bring Your Kid To Work Day.

“He’s a Muggle.”

“He’s not,” Lily snapped. “He’s family.”

She had to get permission, sign a million forms, and she also had to take the boys in early so that Dudley could get smothered in the spells that would keep the Anti-Muggle wards around the Ministry from activating on him. “If a Muggle stumbles in somehow, they just see a funny-smelling supply cabinet and turn back around,” Lily told Dudley. He nodded and dragged Harry off by the wrist to go look at the fountain.

The windows were pouring sunlight into the underground room– the maintenance workers had just gotten a win on their contract negotiations and had banished the grimy rain-spattered windows of the previous weeks. The light hit the falling water, the golden statues, and the small excitable crowd of Ministry dependents who were gathering in the atrium. Dudley was fishing about in the fountain for Knuts to toss back out again, elbow-deep, and Harry was laughing and coming up with weird wishes to make on them.

Lily hadn’t said son. She’d said family, and that was true enough, wasn’t it? She didn’t say son– she had a son, and she had a nephew, a ward, another child who came to her after nightmares and scraped knees. It was not less, it was just words.

Lily worried about stealing more things from Petunia. Tuney had shrieked at her, in ladies’ restrooms and suburban foyers, had hissed at her in grocery store aisles and family dinners, because Lily got everything. And now Lily had her son.

Lily could just imagine it– could just see Petunia’s face twisting and chin stabbing at the air. You could have anything, and you took my son– my son!

“You left him to me,” Lily whispered, but that wasn’t quite right. “You left,” she whispered, and that wasn’t quite right either, so she strode off toward the fountain to ask the boys if they wanted to go see the Auror spellwork ranges. Dudley’s sodden shirt sleeves dripped all over the Ministry floors. Harry’s hair fell down into his eyes and they both grinned bright enough to rival the spelled sunlight.

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Cute Bus Stop Guy

Sterek, Teen, 2K words, Meet Cute AU


Stiles groaned and took a very long swig from his travel coffee mug as he hitched his messenger bag up higher on his shoulder. It was barely eight in the morning, and consequently, he could barely keep his eyes open. He was a grad student for fuck’s sake, and it was understood that in order to make up for the shitty stipend and the whole working-around-the-clock thing, he got to sleep in until 10. At least. After all, if he was up until 3 working, it was only fair. But noooo, his advisor—fuck you, Finstock—had insisted on an early meeting today.

He passed the bus stop and realized that at least he was lucky in that he lived close enough to campus that he could walk instead of dealing with public transportation at rush hour. Small condolences, really, though.

He yawned and accidentally bumped into someone walking past him. Stiles tried to apologize, but the word got stuck in his throat when he opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of the person he’d nearly knocked over. He was about Stiles’ height but bigger, all broad shoulders and muscles capped off by really great hair and an unfairly attractive face. “Uh.”

The guy gave him a curt little nod and neatly sidestepped him, continuing on his way. Stiles snuck a look over his shoulder, and yep, the rear view in those tight slacks was pretty good, too. The guy stopped at the bus stop, leaning against the sign, and Stiles sighed. It was a dreamy sigh, even he could admit that.

He had a feeling he was going to become a morning person.

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exchanges (m)

Summary: In which Jeon Jungkook is that friendly neighborhood superhero, you’re the face in the hallway that saved his high school career, and he can’t ever seem to get a grip around you. Even when he makes you scream after a fated accident—not for the reason you may be thinking; get the thought out of your head! 
Pairing: Jungkook | Reader 
Genre: Fluff/Smut; Spiderman AU 
Word Count: 14,838
Author’s Note: Honestly though, it was only a matter of time before I got around to writing a story like this. I am obsessed with Spiderman, so this might just be the foundational guideline for many future Jungkook Spiderman AU drabbles to come in the future. 

The story was also heavily inspired by this photo that made me cry for seven days and seven nights. +photo credit !!!!!!!

.

(the present)

If Jeon Jungkook is against anything in his life, it’s one’s ability to exaggerate certain situations or problems to make those things seem much bigger than they probably were. Well, actually, take that back. It’s not that he’s against it per say, it’s just that his peer’s daily struggles of pop quizzes and missing the morning bus aren’t exactly headliner news—especially in comparison to what he has to go through.

Jeon Jungkook is against exaggeration, probably because he can’t get away with it himself. It’s not that he doesn’t like to exchange his fair share of embellished stories or fabricated events weaved into true experiences, it’s that he can’t afford to do so. Sharing stories of his nightly routines and dashing superhero adventures may seem great, but only if he could manage the burden of a personal life and a masked life intertwining.

As an 18-year-old boy, he can probably say it’s safe to assume that he cannot. Manage the overwhelming, opposite pressure both of his lives take him, that is. It’s difficult enough being a college freshman, a tiny fish in an ocean of whales and sharks, but throw in his late night Spiderman facade would be too much of a tale to share with other people and peers who probably ask too many questions and know too much about him. He’s never liked the exposure that comes with being in the spotlight, and he can’t hide behind his mask if people knew who he was.

Oh. Right. Speaking of his Spiderman facade, that’s who is he. Haven’t heard of him? You know, the dashing hero of Seoul, red and blue spandex attire with a web shooter, fine tuned senses and amazingly quick reflexes? The boy who swings around the city, volunteering for trouble and always coming out right on top? The boy who constantly maintains that casual, slightly amused tone throughout a majority of his rescues?

Yeah, well, that’s Jungkook.

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Harry Styles Vocal Health on SNL

Hello!  So first and foremost I wan to put out there how much I love Harry and his voice.  Dear god it’s SO COOL and unique.  I love how when he’s in good vocal health he has all these different textures to it- the gruffness of his chest voice, the purity of his falsetto, the power of his belt.  When the studio version of SOTT came out I couldn’t sing his praises enough.  His voice sounded SO HEALTHY.  He was making such good choices!!!  Everything was relaxed and well supported.  He let the song build naturally.  He MUST have gotten some solid vocal training over his break because that isn’t something that can just happen over night.  I was very impressed and very proud.  I was also a bit nervous to see if these changes would hold when he started performing live….and…..it looks like I had good reason to be nervous.  

Here’s the thing. There are a few reasons I’m so hard on Harry in particular when it comes to poor technique. First, compared to the other guys, his technique is the only one that’s actually physically DAMAGING.  Could the other guys benefit from proper training?  Sure.  Of course.  Every singer can.  Even those who have been singing for years still should train on a regular basis.  But the other boys’ bad habits are just that- bad habits.  They aren’t going to do long term damage, not the way Harry’s are.    The second reason is BECAUSE I know he can do (AND HAS DONE!!!!!) so much better!!   I know he’s CAPABLE of so much more and so yeah, I’m hard on him because of that. And finally, I know exactly what he’s doing physically and exactly what’s going through his mind because I have the same exact bad habits and I can see him using the same exact thought process as to why he slips into these again.

Harry is the Ultimate Performer. He wants nothing more than to put on a good show for everyone, even if that means sacrificing his own vocal health.  Now, that’s isn’t a HUGE problem…until it KEEPS happening.  Which is what happened with OTRA.  And possibly might be happening now, although that remains to be seen.  One performance of one song slips into an entire show of this slips into two shows of this slips into the entire tour and wham, you’ve got nodes.  I think the biggest problem with Harry’s performance last night is he doesn’t trust the material or HIMSELF to sell it the way it is.  He feels he needs to overcompensate and big Big and Bold right from the start and that song is not built to be sung that way.  He started at a level that he couldn’t sustain throughout the entire thing and had nowhere to go.  That’s when he ran into trouble.  

As soon as he opened his mouth, I knew it wasn’t going to go well.  Don’t get me wrong, he sounds fantastic in the beginning…but like I said, there was nothing for him to build upon because he already started it at too high a height. His voice sounded raspy to me too, raspier than usual.  That can be caused by a few things- he could have been dehydrated (you can’t sing right if you don’t pee white!), he could have been tired (we know he’s a morning person and that show is pretty late for him), he could have strained his voice at the concert the night before, he could have over rehearsed, he could have smoked a bit.  I don’t know what the cause was, but he didn’t start off the evening in the best vocal health, especially for a song that’s very difficult to sing.  I also think he KNEW that so again, he tried to overcompensate for that by pushing.  

There is so much tension throughout his whole body, particular his shoulders on up.  I’m sure a lot of that is due to nerves.  I’ve said it many times before and I’ll say it again: the SNL stage is one of the hardest venues for artists to play.  There’s something particularly rough about it.  He’s also always had problems tensing up his face when he sings, but it what was particularly striking to me was that he did it during the falsetto parts.  That should have been EASY for him to sing.  That’s something light and relaxed.  Almost a break from the tension of the rest of the song…and yet he looks like he was in pain.  Which makes me wonder if he WAS in pain.  it’s hard to tell, but it almost seems like the second time he does it he pushes it more to a mix than a pure falsetto. 

It’s notable to me how relaxed the second syllable of  “bullets” around 2:44-2:48 is compared to the rest.  THAT is what the whole thing should have sounded like.  it’s relaxed and he’s got a great vibratto on it that comes straight from the diaphragm there- compare that to how tight “bullets” are the second time he sings it in that phrase at 2:58ish-3:04.  Why did you change what you were doing, sir??? In fact, to me it seemed like he KNEW it sounded good the first time and did his cute li’l dance and then came back to it feeling like “yeah I got this…” and then tightened right back up again.  because he didn’t trust himself.  

Thennnnnn the bridge happens.  And this is what i mean by he had nowhere to go.  THIS should have been his first belt it out moment.  but he pushed too hard too quickly and his voice just…wasn’t there.  It was tired.  The first scoop up to the first “we” was off key because of it and I think he knew it which made it even worse and MORE tense to the point where he just didn’t have the vocal agility to flip into his fasletto again for “learn”.  And then we’ve got the “it’s just what we know” which was just a poor choice.  I have a feeling he nailed that MULTIPLE times in rehearsals and mannnnn if he was in good vocal health how killer would that have sounded!??!!?  But instead, we got what’s called harmonic distortion which is SUPER VERY YIKESY AND A BIG SIGN OF HOLYSHITYOU’REDOINGDAMAGE (i sincerely hope he has an appointment with an ENT this week and gets scoped to check that out).   This was another instance of him trying to put on a great show and overcompensate for what he probably felt was lackluster vocals (which for the record WERE NOT THAT BAD.  I’m picking it apart because…well, it’s what I do.  and i don’t think I would have had too much of a problem if it weren’t for the super damaging choices he ended up making).  

From there he’s thinking “Oh shit that was bad…I REALLY fucked up…better step up my game and make the end better!” and once again tries to overcompensate and push a voice that’s already been pushed to the brink.  there just wasn’t more in there for it to give.  He couldn’t sustain it.  He had already given everything that there was go to give.  

When it comes to ESNY, it was a much better performance.  I think it’s partially due to the fact that it’s an easier song to sing and partially due to the fact that he was playing guitar so he wasn’t as much in his head (Side note: CAN YOU BELIEVE HE FINALLY BLESSED US WITH HIS GUITAR SKILLS?????).  His belty part towards the end wasn’t as good as it could have been, but I think that’s just due to the fact that his voice was kinda shot and that’s the best it was going to be.  It wasn’t TERRIBLE and obviously it could have been better, but I am curious to hear the studio version to see if there’s more belting that he just wasn’t comfortable with last night.  I could have done without the facial affectations because it just adds more tension and tension is bad, kiddos  But I think it’s a stylistic choice and I’m trying to pick my battles here.  Additionally, as we’ve seen in gif form his li’l neck vein was popping out so yeah he was tensing up pretty good there…but again, it wasn’t as terrible as it could have been since the song itself isn’t as taxing vocally.  

All in all, the performances were great, especially if you’re not as picky as I am. I know this was his first time singing live in well over a year and SNL is high stress and it’s his first time out there ALONE.  I’m curious to see what happens on Graham Norton and if he improves his technique. I’m also really curious to see how he’ll be on tour as well. I do wonder if he’ll lower the key of SOTT so it’s not as taxing.  No one would really notice and it would make things a little easier on him. It’s just frustrating because I know he has it in him to do it well.  We’ve HEARD him do it well.  But he just doesn’t trust himself enough to do that and that kind of breaks my heart a little.  Thankfully, he’s young and has time to learn.  He can still break these habits and make new, healthier ones and learn to trust himself more.

BUDDY.  YOU GOT THIS.  YOU HAVE AN AMAZING VOICE.  YOU ARE A FANTASTIC SONGWRITER.  YOU HAVE GREAT TECHNIQUE WHEN YOU PUT YOUR MIND TO IT.  YOU ARE A KILLER SHOWMAN WITH A TON OF CHARISMA.  PLEASE TRUST THESE THINGS AND STOP PUSHING YOURSELF BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOU DAMAGE ANYTHING.  

Love,

B <3 

anonymous asked:

AU where Bitty and Jack both suddenly wake up, after having had a few years together, and find themselves in their beds on the morning of the day they met. Both remember everything that happened, but neither thinks the other does, so they both pretend not to remember (which only complicates things more). They end up reenacting a lot of their interactions and it kills them both to do things they know hurt the other but they don't want to change anything.

oh no buddy, I’m not gonna let this stay sad. I’m gonna draw attention to several sad things, but then I’m gonna fix it.

******************

Bitty wakes up on his first day of freshman year. Again. He quickly decides that he can’t say anything to anyone. There was no way to prove that the life he had just been living was anything but a dream.

He goes through the motions as well as he can remember. If he lingers a little on the handshake when he ‘meets’ Jack again, well, who could notice a thing like that?

Jack wakes up in the Haus. He mirrors Bitty’s mental process, realizing that if he started talking about this he could lose the future he knows is on its way. He searches Bittle’s face for recognition, but is too afraid to say anything.

Jack takes a deep breath every day and snaps at Bittle, pushing every pet name out of his mind. Bitty forces himself to forget and relearn how to take a check. On the rink together for checking practice, neither can think of any way to ask if they’re going through the same thing. They both cry more than they did the first time around.

Sometimes Bitty just gets angry at having to repeat things. He tries as hard as he can to not mess the repetitions up, but he isn’t perfect. When Ransom and Holster start asking him what his type is, he rolls his eyes and replies “Men.” As soon as he’s said it he remembers that he had only said that later to his camera, but the damage doesn’t seem to be too great. Jack doesn’t seem to react to the change, adding to his mental list of evidence that everything else had just been a dream. He gets the list of eligible Winter Screw options a few days earlier, but everything settles back to what it had been within a week. Whenever he starts thinking about the next few years, he’s enraged about everything he’s going to have to sit back and let happen. Everything that was going to make Jack sad, and that he wouldn’t be able to fix. Everything that was going to hurt him that he couldn’t avoid. 

Jack wakes up every day and writes up a game plan. It’s hard to have to turn back years of learning and be worse as a captain, especially when he remembers every mistake he made in every lost game. So he writes down those mistakes as a reminder to himself to make them. Half of the mistakes are emotional, and that’s what really gets him. He’s forced to act like those years of growing as a person never happened, like they were worthless. He hates trying to make himself glare at Bittle when they’re on the same line, he hates telling him that it was a lucky shot, he hates being so close to his boyfriend except for the fact that he isn’t his boyfriend yet.

Then it’s the playoffs. Bitty steels himself all week for the concussion he knows is coming. It crosses his mind to try to avoid it, to spare himself the pain and potential brain damage. But he remembers that it was only after the concussion that Jack started texting him, and they really got close. He knows that if he went against the play he knew Jack was going to suggest, he’d only drive them apart. Besides, it hadn’t been that bad the first time.

Jack is confident he can find another reason to text Bittle over the summer. He’s thought about this for the whole school year. Whatever consequences could come from not seeing Bitty hurt like that would be worth it. He just has to convince the coaches to not put Bitty in at the wrong time. 

“Oh my god, I thought we got over this months ago,” Bitty mutters to himself. He doesn’t remember Jack getting so annoyed about playing with him during this game, but he’s at a point where everything has run together in his mind. 

“Jack, I’ll be fine,” he half-lies. He will, eventually. There’s something close to panic in Jack’s eyes. Weird, Jack had taken so long the first time around to show any tiny sign of weakness.

“Promise me you’ll avoid number three.” This is definitely different from before. Bitty stares at Jack. “Spencer, number three, don’t go near him when he’s on their side of the rink. Promise me, Bits.”

“You didn’t even call me Bitty at this point,” he says in shock. They stare at each other for a minute, eyes wide. 

“I won’t get the concussion this time and we’ll talk about this after the game,” Bitty blurts out. Jack nods vigorously. They play, and it’s brutal, but Bitty avoids the hip check. Once the game is over, they rush to get seats together in the bus. In whispers, they talk about the future they already had. Bitty mourned the years of school he had ahead of him that he had already completed. Jack complained about having to rewalk a long path to the Stanley Cup. They talked about teammates who felt like family but would still know them as strangers. Graduation, the Fourth of July they spent in Madison, their first Christmas together. Every important milestone of their relationship.

“And in this loop or timeline or whatever, we haven’t even kissed!” Bitty whispers, letting his head thunk back against the headrest. “I was at the point where I was out of college, happy with my career, and hiding a ring from you!”

“You weren’t!” Jack says out loud before dropping back into a whisper. “I was doing the same thing.” They both start laughing. It’s the perfect time to have a second first kiss. They lean in towards each other, their lips meet, and–

–They’re back in their apartment. Bitty sits bolt upright in their bed and turns to Jack. For a fleeting second, he thinks about pretending the last several months just didn’t happen. Jack sits up too, and their eyes meet.

“Did that just–”

“Your frog year take two–” They dissolve into relieved laughter.

“I thought I was going to have to take calc again!”

“I thought I was going to have to listen to you complain about calc again,” Jack says before Bitty smacks him with a pillow. “Kidding! Kind of! Wait, weren’t we just saying that we wanted to propose to each other?” He throws himself out of bed and runs to start rummaging through various coat pockets.

“Oh no, you’re not going to propose to me before I can propose to you!” 

Everything is as it should be once more.

Secret Admirer

Note: I’ve been sick so I haven’t been able to get too many requests done. but I really enjoyed writing this! I do hope you like it! feedback is welcome! thanks for the request, sweetie .c

Request: Bucky gets jealous and protective when he finds out that a man has been showering you, his wife, with gifts and presents and letters and confronts that man :-D

Originally posted by caps-bucky


If one thing about Bucky was for certain: he despises another male giving you attention. He spent years and years believing nobody could ever love him, and he’d be damned if he let another man swoop in and steal you away, the one who loves him dearly. Though, countless times you’ve assured Bucky that he’s the only man you have eyes on, and you’d never leave him, he was still protective of you. 


Bucky was startled out of his deep slumber early in the morning, to find the postman holding a bouquet of roses, asking for him to sign for them. His stomach twisted and his eyes squinted at the brightly colored flowers.  

“Are you sure this is the right address? I didn’t order flowers.” Bucky always hand picked your flowers, never bought, except on special occasions. You preferred handpicked, enjoying the special meaning behind them a lot more than a floral shop arrangement. But sometimes Bucky would surprise you. This was not one of those times.

The postman nodded and gave Bucky a friendly smile. “Yep! Y/N Y/L/N still lives here, right?” The postman asks, noticing Bucky’s eyes flitting back and forth across his face. “What’s it to you?” Bucky snaps, angrily taking the vase from the postman’s hand.

The postman’s eyes widen and he stands there, shocked. “Just making sure. The floral shop has no time for mistakes.” He said before turning on his heel and rushing away to finish his route.

Bucky sighed heavily as he looked for a note attached to the roses. He wanted to throw them away, maybe even stomp on them and hunt the asshole down and give him a piece of his mind. But instead, he waited patiently for you to finish showering before he acted on his emotions.

He sat them on the kitchen island in your shared apartment, wracking his brain as to who would send you, his wife, such an intimate gift. It couldn’t have been someone from your family; sadly so, you lost connections after being recruited. The guys on the team knew better to pull a prank like this; trying to woo his woman, they knew he’d stop at nothing to make sure every last flower was shoved so far up-

“Ooo, pretty!” Your voice rang through the kitchen as you skipped over to Bucky. Bucky’s heart sank at the sound of the excitement coming from your pretty mouth he loves to kiss so much. “Bucky, you shouldn’t have!” You smiled brightly, leaning over to him and placing a kiss to his cheek.

He frowned at your reaction, knowing how happy you got anytime he ever got you flowers. “I didn’t.” Bucky mumbled with a frown, his tired eyes falling to your hand on his arm. Your eyebrows creased with confusion. Your eyes scanned the bouquet, searching for a card as you twisted the vase around. Only then did you realize there wasn’t one.

“Well, who would’ve sent me these?” You asked softly, nobody coming to mind. Bucky shrugged and you tapped your fingers against the kitchen island. “I don’t like this.” Bucky grumbled before getting off the seat and pacing the kitchen.

You sighed and almost rolled your eyes at him, but even this confused you. “Well, why don’t I take them to the little old lady down the street later?” You offered with a small smile, wanting to get these away from Bucky before the vase was thrown into the wall. Or worse, into the head of the person that sent them.

Bucky nodded and looked over at you, his heart warming at the sight of your still wet hair and bright eyes. He never understood how someone could look so beautiful without even trying. So no, he was not about to let someone else see you this way.

You walked over to him and pulled him into you, your arms wrapping around his waist. Bucky held you close and he pressed his lips on the top of your head. His metal hand grasped at your shirt, the desperation to keep you in his arms evident in his actions. “I know you’re worrying. Don’t.” You whispered, looking up at Bucky, your chin resting on his torso.

His hand caressed your cheek and you smiled, causing one of his own to form on his lips.


It had been a week since the flower situation. Bucky didn’t dwell on it, but he was still alert when the postman would stop by. Bucky had been gone all morning, meeting up with Steve for the day. You were lounging around at home, working on a painting for your local art class, before you heard the doorbell ring.

You smiled and set down your paintbrush, wiping the paint on your hands onto your smock. You ran to the door and half expected to see Bucky, but knew he wouldn’t be home for a few more hours, and you were met with the postman.

“Hi Charlie!” You said with a smile, taking your letters from his outstretched hand. Charlie then pulled out a box, handing it to you. “What’s this?” You asked, inspecting the small box. “Not sure, sweetie. Sign here.” He said with a smile, offering you his pen and his clipboard. You quickly signed for the box and waved to Charlie before going back inside.

The box felt light and didn’t have any information on it except for your address. Placing the letters in the small mail slot near your door, you examined the box, lifting it to your ear as you gently shook it.

You couldn’t hear anything so you went to the kitchen to carefully open it with a knife. Light blue gift paper stuck out as you lifted the flaps open and you creased your eyebrows. This paper looks familiar.

You pulled it out and gasped, seeing a Tiffany & Co. business card on top of a light blue box with white satin ribbon tied around it, a bow sitting on the lid. You grasped the box and opened it, seeing a bracelet catching the sunlight through the windows, shining brightly in a ray of rainbow colors.

“Who are you?” You whispered. First the roses and now an expensive piece of jewelry? You had no clue who would be sending you things like this. You were sure Bucky was going to freak out after seeing this. Gently placing the bracelet back inside of the box, you left it there so you could finish painting.

A few hours passed, and you had finished your project. The door suddenly opened, heavy boots being taken off made you smile.

Bucky stepped into view and you squealed, running up to him. You always felt so happy when he got home. “Bucky!” You giggled, running straight into his arms. Bucky chuckled and caught you, twirling you around before capturing your lips with his.

You smiled into the kiss as Bucky held you closer. He smelled like shampoo and aftershave from his shower this morning, with a hint of vanilla. Bucky set you down and held your cheeks in his hands, smiling down at you.

“You’ve got paint in your hair.” Bucky said with a laugh, his fingers trying to clean it off. You flapped his hands away and giggled. You suddenly remembered the little box you got earlier and you gasped. “Oh yeah! A box came today.” You said, walking away from Bucky. His demeanor changed immediately, jealousy and anger settling into his chest.

“What is it? Who is it from? Did they leave a note?” He bombarded you with questions as he ganged up on your heels into the kitchen. You grabbed the box and opened it, getting the bracelet out again.

You held it out for Bucky to see and he looked at it, his eyebrows creasing. “Okay, this it getting out of hand already. I’m gonna find this punk and give him a piece of my mind.” Bucky growled, taking the bracelet from you. “This is the last fucking straw!“ He yelled, his loud voice echoing through the hallway before he turned into the living room.

You sighed and looked up at him. “Bucky, it could be harmless.” You explained, trying to catch up to Bucky as he turned away from you, his shoulders visibly tensing. He scoffed and shook his head. “Harmless? Another man is sending you gifts, Y/N!” Bucky exclaimed, turning to you and you got into the room.

Another sigh fell from your lips and you walked over to Bucky, pulling him into your arms. He stood still, his hand gripping tightly onto the bracelet. “I will figure out who this is, and I can’t promise I’ll be nice about it.” Bucky grumbled, his arms moving to wrap around your shoulders.


It’s been two weeks now and you’ve received another bouquet of roses and another piece of expensive jewelry, without a note of who it could be from. Bucky made many attempts at tracking the person down, but you hoped they would stop before he could hurt someone.

Suddenly, you heard the postman at the door. You rushed to the door, beating Bucky to it so he wouldn’t take any of this out on someone innocent. Luckily he was still in the kitchen. You opened the door and smiled at the postman, asking him how his morning has been so far.

“Rather lovely! Here’s your mail!” Charlie said with a chipper voice, his hand holding a few letters out to you. You took them with a smile and said goodbye. Charlie returned your smile before heading back down the walkway, his bag slung over his shoulder.

You shifted through the letters as you walked back inside, kicking the door shut behind you. Most of the letters were simple bills, but a purple colored envelope with your name written in cursive on it caught your attention.

You were nervous to open it, you never really got any letters from anyone personally. You used to when you first became an Avenger, but now, it was rare. Maybe this was one of those times. You only hoped so, so Bucky wouldn’t freak out. But as you opened the envelope and pulled out the letter, your eyes raking down the message, your accusations were wrong.

Bucky walked in with an unreadable expression as he crossed over and behind you, looking down at the letter over your shoulder.

Dear Y/N, I hope you’ve enjoyed the gifts! I was scared to face you, but I’d like to meet up with you! If it’s okay with you, you can meet me at-” Bucky ripped the letter from your hands as he read the address and he laughed. “Is this idiot serious right now!?” He shouted as he stared down at you. You gave him a small shrug.

Whoever wrote the letter wanted you to meet them at noon at some coffee shop. “Bucky, please, don’t do anything you’ll regret.” You pleaded, looking up at a rather angry man. Bucky’s jaw clenched and he slipped on his baseball cap.

“I don’t know who this is, you are not coming with me. It could be a trap and they could hurt you, they could-” Bucky rushed and you quickly stepped onto your toes and shut him up with a kiss. “I’m going with you. I’ll be okay.” You said with a small smile.

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed heavily. He looked back at you and shook his head gently. “I swear, he’s dead.” Bucky grumbled, grabbing your hand and making his way to the destination.

You took your time looking around the city, the sun shining brightly and a few birds flying around every now and then. Other than all of this, it was a nice day out. As you walked towards the coffee shop, you saw a familiar face standing outside, the man looking down at his watch.

You gasped as you realized who it was. It was your art partner, Riley. Was he the one that was sending you all of those gifts? “No way.” You whispered, catching Bucky’s attention. “Is that him?” Bucky asked as he caught sight of the man and immediately bolted towards him. “Hey! Punk!” Bucky yelled out, his metal hand whirring as he tightened his fist.

Riley’s head snapped towards you and Bucky, his eyes widening just in time for Bucky to lunge at him. Bucky grabbed Riley by his shirt and lifted him off of the ground. “So you’re the guy that’s been sending my wife gifts and love letters!?” Bucky yelled at Riley, moving to shove him against the brick building.

You stood back as you watched, your heart racing fast. “Bucky!” You yelled after him, noticing a few people slowly walk by as they took in the scene. The last thing you wanted was for Bucky to end up on the news channel for lashing out on someone in the public eye, so you knew you had to do something.

Rushing over to Bucky, you grabbed his arm. He was breathing heavily as he dropped Riley to the ground. Riley was pretty shaken up and you couldn’t help but feel guilty. “Bucky, let me talk to him. He’s from my art class.“ You said softly, moving to help Riley up. Bucky scoffed and looked at you bewildered. “Are you serious, Y/N!?” Bucky yelled out.

Riley stood back up and looked between you and Bucky. “I didn’t know she had a boyfriend. I didn’t mean any harm. She never mentioned a boyfriend.” Riley explained nervously. You let out a sigh. “I told you about Bucky, remember? He’s my husband.” You said, moving towards Bucky again. He pulled you into his side protectively.

Riley’s eyebrows creased. “I’ve never seen a ring.” He commented. You lifted up your left hand, the diamond shining in the sunlight. A soft ‘oh’ fell from his lips. Bucky pushed you behind him as he walked forward. Riley took a cautious step backward. “Listen, man, it’s only a misunderstanding.” He squeaked, holding his hands up.

Bucky snarled at him and turned back to you, quickly pulling you away without another word. You didn’t dare look back at Riley, no matter how bad you felt. He was really nice and welcomed you into the art class with a warm gesture. But you never thought he’d be your secret admirer.

You never wore your ring to art class after the first day, you almost had it snagged off by your smock. Bucky was silent most of the way home and you weren’t sure what to say. He left your side as soon as you stepped into the door, and went straight to the bedroom.

You followed after him, watching him closely. Bucky didn’t look angry anymore. His shoulders were slumped and his eyes held a sadness you’ve never seen before.

“Are you okay?” You asked quietly as you moved to stand in front of Bucky. His head was hanging low and he shook it, his hair framing his face under his cap. You lifted his chin up with your finger and looked into his eyes. “Talk to me, baby.” You whispered, noticing his blue eyes had grown a light shade of grey.

Bucky sighed and moved his hands to your waist, his thumbs digging into your skin. “It’s just-the thought of someone else feeling how I feel about you-it scares me.” Bucky mumbled, leaning into your hand on his cheek. You smiled gently and took off his cap, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Hey, come on, I’m yours. I’m not going anywhere.” You said, pressing more kisses to his face.

After a few more, Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle. He pulled you onto him and fell onto his back on the mattress as you straddled him. You looked down at Bucky, letting your noses graze one another’s in an eskimo kiss. “You know I love you, James.” You said, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. “Even when you’re jealous.” You added with a sly smirk.

Bucky pulled you closer, his metal hand keeping you in place. “I love you, too. Wait- no, I am not jealous.” He deadpanned, a hint of truth behind his words. You giggled and kissed his lips. You pulled away too soon for his liking and he groaned, rubbing his hands along your lower back. “You are.” You said, kissing his lips again.

“Am not.” Kiss. “Are too.” Kiss. “Am not.” Kiss. “Fuck, can you blame me?” Bucky asked as he rolled on top of you, moving his hands underneath your shirt. You smiled and let out a breathy giggle. “Just kiss me.” You whispered, pulling him down by his collar. “Gladly.” He mumbled against your lips.

Note: yikes, I hope this doesn’t suck! .c

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Operation Cobra-Jughead Jones

Pairing: Jughead x reader
Description: reader is in love with Jughead. Jughead is with Betty.
Warnings: SAD SAD SAD ANGST I’m on my way to the hospital to take my mom and I was feeling this after seeing a spoiler from 1x06 sigh
THIS HAS 4,274 WORDS AND IT TOOK ME FOUR DAYS CAN YOU BELIEVE
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I watched it happen from the very beginning. I noticed the very first time Jughead looked at her differently, the very first time he blushed when she complimented him, the very first time Jughead showed signs of jealousy when Trevor had asked her out. I watched it all unfold from the very beginning.
When Jughead told me he and Betty kissed, I did my best to be the extremely supportive best friend, convincing him to show the pretty blonde he was interested in her. When he did, I helped him plan the entire date out, from where to when, to picking his outfit out for him since he was absolutely helpless when it came to dating. I smoothed out the shoulders of his shirt, fixed his beanie, and sent him on his way.

That night, when he came back to my house to replay all the highlights of his date, he had a smile on his face almost the entire time. It was something I had only seen a handful of times, so even though my heart was breaking, I was still happy that something made him smile this big, even if it wasn’t with me.
When Jughead and Betty started dating, I began to slowly lose my best friend. He and Betty were always going together on the “super sleuth” cases, and I was hardly ever invited despite being the graphic designer and editor for The Blue and Gold. It didn’t bother me though, because I figured I would just see Jughead at Pop’s. I was wrong.

Jughead and Betty liked their alone time. They hardly ever invited us to hang out with them, and when we did, the rest of us felt like we were intruding. If I did have any alone time with Jug, his nose was in his phone, texting Betty the whole time. As supportive as I tried to be for the both of them, I was tired of pretending. All I ever did was pretend.

I walked in to the blue and gold after school, the room vacant. Jughead had probably waited for Betty outside of her history class so they could walk together to the newsroom; he used to do that with me all the time.
I sighed, sitting down at one of the seats in the room and pulling out my laptop. I set it on the desk and began designing the cover for this week’s newspaper.

Eventually, Jughead and Betty showed up, not even noticing I had been in the room. They were chatting about something, both blushing and bumping each other playfully. I mentally rolled my eyes and kept my nose in my laptop, not wanting to watch them be all lovey-dovey or whatever. A minute passed, which turned in to five, and then ten, and then fifteen, and by this time I was beyond upset. Neither had said a word to me at all.

I finished the designs for the paper and quietly closed my laptop, zipping open my bag and stuffing it in before lifting it over my shoulder. I stood up, my chair emitting a sharp noise as the heel of the object scraped against the old tile floor. Jughead and Betty’s heads turned at the sound, watching me push my chair back in.

“Oh my gosh, y/n! When did you come in?” Betty asked. I know she didn’t mean it in a rude way whatsoever, she was one of my best friends, but it angered me. Deciding to keep my anger bottled in, I acted like I didn’t hear her, making my way towards the door of the classroom. I walked out, making my way down the hall.

“Y/n! Wait!” Jughead called my name, and a hand grabbed my shoulder, turning me around.

“What’s wrong?” Jughead inquired, his hand sliding down my arm to go to my wrist. I yanked my body back lightly, looking at him in surprise and disgust.

What’s wrong?” I repeated, my tone of voice obviously showing signs of outrage at this point. “Jughead, if you don’t know what’s wrong right now, then I guess we aren’t as close as I thought we were.” I turned away from him, walking down the hallway again.

Jughead grabbed my shoulder again, turning me and grabbing my hand.
“Don’t say that.” Jughead spoke softly, his jaw clenching.

Really? Jughead, you did not notice I was in the room for fifteen minutes! You did not become aware of my presence in the slightest! And that isn’t even the first time!” I screamed, shoving him away from me harshly. Jughead stumbled back, frozen in shock by what I had just done.

“You don’t even care about me anymore! I don’t even exist to you!” My fingers dug in to my palms as I yelled at him.

“So yeah, we aren’t as close as I thought we were. In fact, I’ve never been farther apart from you.” I turned, walking away again.

“y/n!“ Jughead called my name and I stopped.

"Don’t, Jughead.” I cut him off, turning to face him one more time. “For somebody who claims to be an amazing observer, you sure are pretty damn oblivious.” I walked down the hallway of the empty school, turning a corner and making my way home.

——————————————————-

It was 5:39 when my phone rang, interrupting me from my moping over Jughead and Betty. I had stayed home from school the past few days, blaming it on how “sick” I had been feeling, which was bullshit, but only I knew it was bullshit. Or so I thought.

“Hey Ronnie.” I answered the phone.” Now’s not a good time- “

“Too fucking bad, princess. Get your ass up, I’m here.” I heard a knock at my door downstairs and Veronica hung up. I grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around me, rubbing at my nose a bit to make it look red and grabbed a box of tissues. I wadded a couple up and threw them in the trash so my fake sick story would still be believable.

I padded downstairs slowly, hearing the incessant knocking and ringing of my doorbell. I took a deep breath before answering the door. There stood one of my best friends, hands on her hips and an irritated look on her face.

“Alright, time to stop moping and start moving on.” The black-haired girl stepped in to my house, closing the door and pointing upstairs.

“Who said I was moping?” I fired back, dragging myself up the stairs.

“Oh, come on y/n! You may be able to fool Archie, Betty, Jughead, and the rest of the entire world, but you can’t fool me. I know you aren’t sick, I know you and Jughead fought, I know you like Jughead. Its written all over you!” Veronica flung open the door to my room and marched to my closet, digging through it like a wild dog.” It’s kinda sick, actually. You look at him with literal heart eyes.Honestly, I would have gone for somebody a little more chiseled, but hey, we all got our own kinks- “

“Ronnie.” I cut off her incessant rambling, “Why are you knee-deep in my clothes?”

“Because, sweetheart.” Ronnie stuck her head out of my closet.” There’s a party tonight, and Jughead and my future wife are going, and we are going to show those two idiots who they really belong with.” Ronnie went back in to my closet, holding up numerous amounts of dresses, skirts, and eye-catching tops.

“Jughead is going to a party?” I queried, unconvinced.

“Yeah, it’s a thing with the cheerleaders at Cheryl’s, an Jughead is going to be the ‘supportive boyfriend’ or whatever.” Veronica scoffed at her own words, adding mocking quotations with her fingers before going back to digging in my closet.

“They’re probably going for more clues about Jason.” I mumbled, my mind drifting away a bit.

“For someone who only wears like, 4 outfits, you sure do have a lot of clothes.” Ronnie commented, pulling out a dress and examining it before hanging it back up.

“My mom tries.” I sighed, flopping back down on the bed.

“Oh, no you don’t. Get your happy ass up and get in the shower. You look terrible, which is weird for me, because you usually look incredibly fuckable.”

“Wow, thanks Ronnie.” I spat back, sarcasm laced in my tone. I got up and grabbed a towel from my drawer, walking in to my bathroom and taking a quick shower. I shaved my legs, as demanded instructed by my friend, and Ronnie did my makeup and hair, curling it and putting it up in a pretty half-do. I admired Ronnie’s work, hardly even being able to connect this me with the person that sat in my bed this morning, dark circles under her eyes and her hair in a knotty bun. She had also found a long sleeved black dress that came down to my knees, tucked away in my closet somewhere

Ronnie had brought over a dress for herself to change in to, and slipped on her shoes. She looked up and our eyes met in the mirror, a distressed look on my face.

“Listen, tonight is for us, okay?” Ronnie rested her hand on my shoulders, turning my chair so I faced her.” I’ve been sitting around and moping too, trust me, but we shouldn’t mope. We deserve so much better, alright? So, let’s just go out and have fun. We deserve that much, alright?” Ronnie held out her hand and I took it, pulling myself up and letting my arms go around her neck to embrace her. We both grabbed our purses and linked arms before walking down the stairs of my house and out my door.
——————————————————–
“Ronnie, I don’t think I can do this.” I stood at the front door of the house, my heart racing.” I really can’t do this.” I turned away from the building, wringing my hands out in front of me.” I’ve been doing it for so long, and I don’t think I can pretend any more, and- “

“Y/n!” Ronnie grabbed my hands, holing them in between hers.” You can do this, ok? You’re y/n freaking l/n!! You are one of the strongest women I know, and you are fierce! You can’t let Jughead, or Betty, or anyone get to you! Don’t let them ruin your moment, ok? Because you are looking hot as hell- “Ronnie lifted one of my hands, twirling me in front of her, and I giggled- “And I’ll be damned if I let you let them mess with that.” I hugged Ronnie tightly before she linked my arm with hers and we walked in to the Blossom mansion.

The music wasn’t too loud, which was a kind gesture for my sensitive ears. Cheryl had already roped together some kids for a game of spin the bottle, and I had spotted Archie, Betty, and Jughead near a corner of the room. Ronnie had already gotten me away from the sight, pulling me to the kitchen. I only grabbed a bottle of sweet tea, ignoring the alcohol that lined the counter. Veronica did as well, unsurprisingly. Veronica was a very old-school classy person. If she did drink, it was usually only one glass, and something very light, as I had found out one night that I had slept over at her house.

“There’s my girls!” Kevin wrapped each arm around Veronica and I’s shoulders. “Operation ‘avoid Jughead and Betty because they’re little whores who have been ignoring us to suck each other’s faces’ has commenced!” I laughed at Kevin, giving him a weird look for the name he had chosen.

“Lets just call it Operation Cobra, you know, for short.” Veronica suggested.The three of us made our way to the middle of the dance floor ignoring our other friends. It was obvious Veronica was laughing and talking at a bit of a higher volume, as well as being extra touchy and flirty to get the attention of our friends. I didn’t so much as glance at Jughead, because I knew that once I did, it was game over, and I would be running home and hiding under my covers.
After a little while, I went to find a quiet place in the house, wanting to be alone. Parties weren’t really my thing, so I didn’t understand why I even agreed to go, but to be fair I was having a nice time

I sat on Cheryl’s back porch, my legs swinging off the edge as I looked out at her backyard. The graveyard with all her relatives didn’t really help boost my happiness, but at least I had gotten away from the incessant bass drops the music was giving off.

“Thought you were sick.” I turned my head to see Jughead leaning against the wall, legs and arms both crossed. My heart started beating wildly and I felt a lump in my throat.

“Thought you didn’t like parties.” I retorted, turning my head back around to face away from him.

“Touché.” I felt Jughead’s presence as he sat down next to me, our thighs brushing together. For a couple minutes, I didn’t say anything, scared that if I did I would burst in to tears.

“You look really, uh, nice tonight.” Jughead looked me up and down and I raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, not that you don’t look nice all the time, because you do.” Jughead scratched the back of his neck.” Because you know, you’re really beautiful, but you already know that I think that, because you know, you’re my best friend, and uh… yeah.” Jughead looked away

“You know, I’m not a mind reader.” Jughead chuckled lightly. I could see him staring at me out of the corner of my eye. I did my best to ignore him, crossing my arms and keeping my gaze away from his.

“Look- “Jughead gulped audibly, hesitating before lifting his hand and resting it on my shoulder.” I don’t know what’s going through your head right now, or what you’re dealing with, but I’m here for you- “

Really? Are you really “here for me?” I shrugged his hand off my shoulder, moving to stand up. I was furious at this point.” Jughead, I have talked to you maybe a handful of times since you and Betty started dating! You have cancelled every single one of our plans since then! Every time we’re together working on the blue and gold, you and Betty hardly even notice I’m in the room! – “

My hands went to my temples as I slowly paced back and forth on the deck of the porch. Jughead now stood in front of me, one hand shoved in the pocket of his jeans and the other running his hand down his face in a frustrated motion.

“And maybe I wouldn’t have been so angry about it, if you would have at least showed any sort of remorse, but you don’t! You don’t apologize, you don’t even text me in advance to let me know, you keep me sitting at Pop’s for hours, and you never even show up! I don’t even know why I still do it? What’s the point?” I began to walk past him but jughead held his arm out, stopping me from leaving. His hand grabbed my hip, turning me to face him.

“I’m sorry, y/n, I really am- “

“No you aren’t, Jughead! You aren’t sorry!” I pushed him away from me.” You aren’t sorry! If you were really ‘sorry’, you would have been there for me! You wouldn’t have skipped out on our plans! You wouldn’t have left me waiting all the time! Or you would have at least texted me to tell me you wouldn’t make it! Or even apologize!” I shoved my index finger against his chest, pushing him away from me once more.” But you don’t! You don’t apologize, or even feel any remorse about it, because all you care about is yourself! You don’t care about the consequences of the choices you make, because it doesn’t hurt you!” I screamed, tears streaming down my face as I ended my rant. Jughead had a shocked face on his look, as if he was surprised that I had just stood up for myself. I couldn’t blame him. All I ever did was let people use me as their personal door mat. I didn’t want to be that person anymore.

“Y/n, I’m sorry, I do care about you, it’s just, I- “

“Save it, Jughead!” I shoved past him, running back in to the house and out the front door. I heard calls from my best friend and turned around to see Veronica and Kevin.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Veronica stood in front of me, blocking me from walking down the path towards the gate to leave Cheryl’s home. Her hands wrapped around my arms, stopping me from moving.” What’s wrong, what happened?”

“What do you think happened, Ronnie?” I spoke loudly, my hands moving wildly in front of me.” Jughead is an idiot! That’s what happened!” Kevin now stood beside Ronnie, and her hands went to my face, wiping away the tears. “I’m in love with a fucking idiot! That’s what happened!”

“I know sweetheart, I know.” Veronica hugged me tightly.

“He doesn’t care, Ronnie. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that he hurt me, or anything. It doesn’t matter.” I moved to look at her again.” Why do I have to be in love with him? It could have been anybody else! Why him?”

“I don’t know, honey, he’s a jerk, I don’t know why he- “Ronnie cut herself off, staring off behind me. I turned around to see Jughead standing ten feet away, arms at his sides and his lips parted slightly.

“Did you say you’re in love with me?” Jughead looked at me with wide eyes, waiting for an answer. I shook my head, diving between Ronnie and Kevin and running towards the gate. Jughead began to follow me, but Kevin and Ronnie held him back, letting me slip away.
————————————————–
I was halfway down the trek to my house when I passed by the Riverdale park. I sighed, steering off the sidewalk and towards the big dome-shaped jungle gym. I was just going to mope at home anyways, so I wasn’t in a hurry to get there.

I dropped my heels to the ground next to me, swinging my purse over my shoulder and climbing up to the top. I sat down in the middle, the solid platform cold against my skin. I didn’t care though. I pulled out my phone, ignoring any notifications I had. I checked Instagram, scrolling through Jughead’s account. I switched over to Betty’s, seeing multiple photos of her and Jughead. I didn’t exactly know why I was forcing myself to look at these, but I was.

I shut my phone off, wrapping my arms around my body. I hadn’t brought a jacket, another thing to beat myself up over. I looked around the park, my eyes eventually catching someone else’s. Jughead.

“What are you doing up there?” Jughead looked up at me, his hands in his pockets.

“I like it up here.” I defended.

“Can you come down?” Jughead asked me.

“No.” I protested.

“Then I’m coming up.” Jughead sighed, beginning to climb the structure. I scrambled to grab my purse, trying to get off as fast as I could, but it was too late. Jughead had climbed up, grabbing the bars on each side of my body and hovering so my lower body was trapped under his. He looked up at me, his chest heaving from climbing up as fast as he could, mixed with the sting of the cold weather. Our breaths could be seen in the winter air, mixing with each other and disappearing. I stared at Jughead, waiting for him to say something.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Oh yeah, hold on. Let me ruin my closest friendship real quick by telling him I have super hardcore feelings for him when he’s dating someone else!” I spat sarcastically.

“Ok, that’s fair.”

“Whatever, Jughead, just let me out.” I started to shuffle under his body, planning to duck under his arm, but he blocked me, climbing farther up. We were now eye level, his face only inches from mine. Jughead stared at me, not saying anything.

“Are you gonna say something?” I asked him, my eyes flickering between his.

“I don’t know what to say.” Jughead admitted. I rolled my eyes, pushing him so I could get out from under him. Apparently, I had pushed too hard, because next thing I knew, the boy lost his balance, stumbling off the bars and falling in to the grass on his back. I gasped, shouting his name before climbing down quickly and jumping off the last few bars.

“Jughead! Are you ok!” Jughead groaned in response, sitting up and rubbing his head. I dropped on to my knees beside him, my shoulders on his hands.

“Peachy.” He answered sarcastically. I rolled my eyes, standing up and brushing the dirt off my dress.

“Whatever, I’m going home- “

“Did you know Veronica liked Betty?” I spun around, looking at Jughead.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I didn’t.” Jughead sighed, standing up. “And Veronica told her. Turns out, a big part of the reason Betty was dating me was to try and get over her, and convince herself she wasn’t gay. When Ronnie told her, she broke it off with me.” Jughead chuckled half-heartedly.

“Jug, I’m sorry.” Sympathy was laced in my voice. I stepped back toward him, patting his shoulder with my hand.

“It’s ok, really. I was dating her for kind of the same reason as well.” Jughead looked up at me, his eyes locking with mine.” You see, there’s this girl that I really like, and she’s been my best friend for quite a while.” My breath hitched in my throat, my hand leaving Jughead’s shoulder.” I’ve been kind of a shit friend to her, and I haven’t really been hanging out with her, more like avoiding her. It’s a really shitty thing to do, and I feel, like, really, really shitty about it.”

“Jughead, I, I can’t…” I turned back towards the dome jungle gym, walking towards my shoes. I felt Jughead’s hand on my shoulder and then my back was against the monkey bars, my body trapped by Jughead’s.

“I didn’t want to lose you.” Jughead admitted.” You’re everything to me, and I don’t know what I would do without you in my life. When I started dating Betty, I thought it would help me get over you, and then I could stop feeling the way I felt.” Jughead looked me in the eyes, his face no more than a few inches away from mine once again.” I watched what happened to my parents, and yours. They were just like us. They were best friends, and…” Jughead hung his head, cutting off his own words.

“Jughead.” I reached my hands up to cup his face, lifting his head to look at me.” We aren’t our parents, ok?” My thumb brushed against his cheek, wiping away the tear that had fallen down his face. Jughead smiled, his eyes flickering down to my lips, and mine doing the same.

“I’m in love with you.”

“I’m in love with you too.” I laughed lightly, my arms wrapping around his neck. Jughead’s arms went to my waist, pulling me flush in to his body before he pressed his lips to mine. I sighed in to the kiss, feeling relief that Jughead felt the same way about me as I did him.

Jughead bit gently at my bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth as he broke the kiss. I giggled, burying my face in to the crook of Jughead’s neck.
—————————————————–
“I see my work did some justice.” I heard Ronnie call out. Jughead and I turned around on the sidewalk we had been on to see our friends.

“We have been looking everywhere for you guys! Where were you!” Archie called out, jogging towards us.

“Oh, you know, climbing jungle gyms, pushing Jughead off them, the usual.” I joked, looking up at Jughead. He smiled, rolling his eyes.
Ronnie and Betty walked up to us, hands held together.

“Hey, nothings gonna be… awkward, right?” Betty asked, looking at Jughead and I.

“No, Betts, everything’s good.” Jughead looked down at me, squeezing my hand.

“Ok, good.” Betty rested her hand on Jughead’s shoulder giving it a friendly squeeze before dropping it.

“Wait, so, you two?” Archie asked, looking at Ronnie and Betty, who nodded.

“And you two?” Archie looked at Jughead and I. Jughead nodded and I blushed, hiding in his side. Jughead wrapped an arm around my waist, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“Honestly, I’m not surprised.” Kevin shrugged, walking towards us.

“Hey, we’re all heading to Pop’s, you coming?” Archie asked Jug and I.

“Archibald Andrews, do you ever think I would turn down a burger and fries from our ever so famous chock-lit shoppe?” I put a hand over my chest in mock offense.

“Of course you and Jughead are together, why was I even surprised.” Archie rolled his eyes, walking away from us.

“That obvious, huh?” Jughead spoke aloud, looking down at me.

“Yep.”

I want to talk about this whole “punching nazis” thing, which I have been thinking about for some days.

To start, let me clarify that I have no moral or ethical qualms with Richard Spencer getting punched in the face on tv. I’d be happy to see it happen again.

But I do have a couple issues with much of the dialogue that has emerged in the wake of this event.

A lot of the people suddenly talking about nazis right now are people who didn’t seem to even realize they existed in this country prior to this election.

A lot of people seem to have gotten some strange ideas about how and where nazis are typically encountered, or who they actually are.

So, I’d like to talk about some of the times in my life when I’ve encountered nazis.

Before I do that, let’s try to establish a definition. There are a lot of different stripes of fascists and white supremacists out there, with varying agendas and varying degrees of organization. In the US we’ve got many types, ranging from the KKK and Aryan Nation to various unorganized skinhead rabble to the newish group calling itself the Alt Right. It seems easiest, at least for the sake of this argument, to lump those all together under one general “nazi” category. But does that really make sense? I’ll come back to that. But for now, in most of the examples I will describe below, these were people who openly called themselves such.

Also, I want to establish a bit about who I am. I don’t like to discuss any of these things publicly, but I also feel like I kind of have to, to explain where I am coming from. So: I am Jewish, I am bi, I am neurodivergent. Due to this last thing, I have certain issues navigating the physical world. I am physically fit but not athletic. I have very little self defense training. By occupation I am a musician.

And lastly I want to point out that these examples are from 15-20 years ago and describe some of my earliest encounters with these forces to provide context. And I’m going to start with some clear cut cases:

I first became aware of the existence of modern nazis my first year in high school. This was in the suburbs of San Francisco. I had a few friends who were into punk music and culture. I heard about “white power punks” and nazi skinheads who would sometimes show up at shows. When I started going out I would see them every once in a while. When I started going up to the city, at that time there were places that were absolutely notorious for nazi skinheads. I never interacted with them, I always steered clear of them, and never really fell in with the punk scene anyway. But that’s when I first became aware that there were people in modern America who called themselves nazis and directly advocated for white supremacy.

To be honest I did not think of myself as their “target” because (in my mind, at that time) Jewish culture in the SF Bay Area was practically invisible and unlikely to be on their radar. In fact I didn’t think too deeply about who their target was. I mostly thought they were crazy people who loved violence and called themselves “nazis” because it was the meanest thing they could think of, that they were in favor of “white power” because it was so obviously wrong. At this time, there was fair amount of tension in the state around the issue of immigration from Mexico. But it did not occur to me then that there could have been any relationship between the xenophobia I saw expressed by mainstream circles in conversations about Proposition 187 and the blatant, violent white supremacy expressed by the skinheads on the periphery of local punk scenes. (also please note that I am aware that not all skinheads are nazis and that there is an anti-racist element within skinhead culture as well)

In college, in Pittsburgh, I lived on a store with a convenience store on one end. One of the people who worked in this store was a skinhead who wore a jacket covered in various white power/“rock against communism” band logos. He had a group of similar buddies that often hung around nearby, a couple of whom had aryan nation tattoos. On several occasions when I woke up in the morning I would find leaflets distributed up and down the block decrying the Holocaust as a “Jewish scam to make money”. These flyers were attributed to Church of the Creator, one of the more active neo-nazi groups in Pennsylvania at that time. Every once in a while I would cautiously engage in arguments with some people on the fringes of that crew of guys who hung out in the area. Things were sometimes tense but never got physical. Soon after 9/11 most of them disappeared. I don’t know why or where to.

While traveling alone in Slovenia, I nearly ran into a parade of about 40 skinheads chanting and marching in the street while I was on the way back to where I was staying. I do not know what specific group they were affiliated with but wore patches with the common “celtic cross” symbol used by far right/white nationalist groups all over the world. At that time, fascist graffiti covered Ljubljana.

Those are just a few of the more blatant examples from that time. These experiences were not rare. The KKK and various neo-nazi groups held public parades and rallies all throughout this period, and sometimes showed up as counter protestors or forces of violence at protests for progressive causes. They marched through downtown Pittsburgh - with the local government’s blessing - and many other cities in that region.

There were protestors at those marches, and there were people who fought the nazis directly, but the general consensus in mainstream liberal circles at that time seemed to be that nazis had the right to march just like anyone else, that any violence against them would be bad. It certainly wasn’t at all common to hear college educated, NY Times-reading liberals talking about the glories of “punching nazis”. This is a problematic but very complicated phenomenon: they were to be tolerated up until the point at which they’ve come into power.

But let me explain why _I_ didn’t go around punching the nazis I saw, during those times when I encountered them personally. To some extent, part of me did follow that logic mentioned above, but that’s not the real reason. The real reason is pretty simple: most nazis are a lot better at fighting than I am, they do it more frequently, they usually travel in numbers, they are often armed, and in almost every circumstance when I’ve encountered them the odds would not have been remotely in my favor had things gotten physical.

Richard Spencer was alone and unarmed standing in front of a video camera busily talking about an internet meme while he was sucker punched. This occurred in broad daylight in a very crowded, open area with a ton of media and police present. While I applaud the anonymous puncher for seizing upon that opportunity, that’s not really a typical situation in which one encounters nazis.

Recently, Richard Spencer posted a video in reaction to this incident. In this video he mentions that the Alt Right will not succeed if they are unable to be who they are in public. I’ve seen a lot of people pointing to this video as a sign of victory over the Alt Right, a sign that they are scared. I think the latter half is true but not the former. What Spencer is saying is that they are going to ramp up security. And I would anticipate that these people will begin to receive even more protection from the current administration.

So, this is one conclusion I’d like to leave here - in most cases “punching nazis” means getting involved in serious physical violence in which your life will be at risk. And that risk is only going to increase in the future. Fantasizing about punching some idiot talking about a frog on tv is fun, but I think it ignores the realities that many have faced and many more are about to face. And while many of us have disabilities that hinder us in this department, I think it would behoove anyone who is serious about getting physical with fascists to study and learn how to do so before getting involved in a situation you are unprepared for. I would also think long and hard before making that demand of anyone else. But that’s not the most important point.

I’d like to circle back to talking about definitions. The examples I gave above are obvious. These were people who, in almost all cases, were openly wearing the actual logos of white supremacist organizations. So let me bring up a different example:

About one year after 9/11 I was in Budapest, taking an overnight train to Amsterdam. I had a spot in a sleeper compartment on a train. I got on and a couple other passengers came in. One of them was a young guy, a little older than me (I was in my early 20’s at this time). He spoke English very well and we got to talking. It turned out he was an Austrian who worked in finance. Middle management at a major bank. He bought us a couple of beers and we were getting along. Inevitably, the topic of 9/11 came up. Seemingly out of nowhere, he explains to me how “there were no Jews in the building that day”. He then goes on to explain how 9/11 and the entire War on Terror that was then unfolding was all a Jewish plot to direct money to Israel’s armed forces. And hinted that the Holocaust was a similar plot. I tried to argue with him for a bit (without letting on that I was Jewish) but it was nearly impossible to get through to him, and he soon became surly and then passed out. I tried to do the same. But what caught my attention was that this man was well spoken, dressed conservatively, he looked every bit the upper middle class finance professional. It was difficult to imagine him in a street fight. No one would have described this person as being on the fringes of his society.

Up until a year ago, if I told this story to a European, or to an American person of color, they were unsurprised. But if I told it to a white American their reaction would usually be “yeah, well, that’s Europe for you”.

But that’s never been the case.

One common narrative is that many of the groups of fascists have figured out that they aren’t going to get very far if they are seen just thugs who march around on the street wearing in leather jackets getting in scraps. many of them have figured this out some time ago, and have been infiltrating mainstream education and corporate life. And yes, that is happening.

But there is a big problem with that narrative: it ignores the fact that many of America’s institutions and businesses are, themselves, organizations that promote white supremacy. Many of our banks, many of our police departments, our prison system, much of our media. Does these mean they are all “nazis”? Not really. But what it does mean is that white supremacy is not some outside force that just suddenly popped out of Steve Bannon’s suitcase. It’s been here for a long time. It is deeply engrained in our society. Fascism is not some new danger that we suddenly need to prevent from being “normalized” - for much of America, fascism has been the norm for a very long time.

Here’s my point with all of this: sooner or later, Trump will be defeated. This regime is monstrous, but I have seen the power and anger and sheer volume of opposition to it, and I do not think that this regime will last. My worry is, once this most obvious of enemies is defeated, the liberal establishment will go right back to completely forgetting that white supremacy and fascism are a major problem in this country. The sad fact is, even when Democrats in power, even when the POTUS is the most progressive sounding person electable, the nazis are still here, white supremacy is still here, fascism is still here. And not always on “the other side”. We need to remember that, we need to keep pointing to them and ostracizing them and speaking out against white supremacy and fascism even when it looks like things are more comfortable, because that comfort is a trap.

The Tea is Decaf

[ao3]

3.7k words
Dean/Cas, Sam/Eileen
Based on this text post

Castiel just barely slips out the door into the hallway and turns the knob as he closes it so the latch doesn’t make a sound. The light is always on in the hallway, and Dean always wakes up if too much of it pours into his room, so Castiel has mastered the art of slipping through the smallest space possible.

He breathes a sigh of relief once he’s in the hallway.

A small voice to his right lets out an amused laugh. He turns to see a particularly tiny woman wearing a very large plaid shirt and nothing else. Well, he supposes she could be wearing shorts under the shirt. It really is very big on her.

“You must be Castiel,” she says rather loudly, mispronouncing his name just slightly.

He walks over to her with a finger to his lips.

She puts her hand over her mouth in embarrassment before signing, I’m deaf.

Castiel mouths an “oh” before dropping his head and laughing. He then pops his head back up fast and mouths, “Are you Eileen?”

She nods eagerly and signs, You’ve heard about me?

Sam has mentioned you a few times, he signs back. He says you’re a very good hunter.

Her face lights up. You’re damn right I am. Still, that’s very sweet of him.

So, are you two…? Castiel looks back toward Sam’s room and then down at Eileen’s shirt.

Eileen’s eyes widen in embarrassment. He’s asleep. I was just going to the bathroom.

I was heading to the kitchen for a cup of tea. Would you like some?

Is there caffeine in it?

Not at 4 in the morning.

Eileen smiles and gives him a thumbs up before moving past him toward the bathroom. Castiel watches her go for a second before it hits him.

He looks down at his plain black t-shirt and too-small boxer briefs and wonders if Eileen could tell that these clothes aren’t his. And that he came out of Dean’s room instead of one of the countless other extra bedrooms in the bunker.

By the time Eileen pads into the kitchen, Castiel has two mugs ready with decaf teabags in them and he’s standing at the stove staring at the pot so he can pull it off the burner before it whistles.

It’s only a minute longer before Cas pours the water into the mugs and takes a seat across from Eileen at the kitchen table.

You’re an angel, aren’t you? Eileen asks as her tea steeps.

Castiel nods as he takes a drink.

Does that mean you don’t sleep?

Sometimes I do. I didn’t feel like it tonight.

Is Dean good in bed?

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Wait, what?

(based on this) (look, there’s a part two)


Yuuri barely has time to grab his jacket when he runs out the door, much less brush his hair or find a hat. Unfortunately, he’s sure that that means that his hair is an absolute mess. It’s been getting long again, but in between classes and helping Yura out with his routine on the weekends, he hasn’t had much time for things like haircuts. Besides, Victor doesn’t seem to mind it, and Yura likes to experiment hairstyles on Yuuri “so that if it looks stupid, I don’t have to see it on myself.”

It’s not that big a deal, except on days like this, when he sleeps in (thanks a lot Vitya) and doesn’t have the time to really get it under control. He usually meets up with his friends before class, and he doesn’t doubt that they’ll notice, and probably tease him about it.

They notice.

“Yuuri!” Estephania gasps, sounding too scandalized for her words to be anything but teasing. “What on earth happened to your hair?”

Yuuri flushes. “I was running late,” he mumbles.

Richard snorts. “You sure? Because that looks more like sex hair to me, man.”

“Ooh, he’s right,” Estephania coos before Yuuri can protest.

He wonders if it’s possible to die of embarrassment (especially since they’re not entirely wrong). “No, really I–”

“We know, sweetie.” She reaches up and moves his hair around a bit, trying to make it look presentable. “You’re just too easy to tease.”

“You sure you’re really twenty seven?” Richard raises an eyebrow.

Yuuri just smiles at the ground in fond humiliation (apparently it’s not a common emotion, but it’s a little hard not to be used to the feeling when he’s married to the world’s biggest drama queen) and nods. “I am.”

His friends are too much sometimes, he admits. Richard is the embodiment of America in a lot of ways: loud, completely lacking a sense of social norms, a walking personification of testosterone. Estephania is less… everything… than Richard, but she’s very touchy and affectionate in an entirely platonic way that reminds Yuuri a lot of Christophe, only without all of the innuendo. But they’re both loyal down to their very core, and they’re not bad people.

His phone starts ringing, Stammi Vicino playing loudly. Yuuri picks up, keeping his phone away from Estephania’s hands. “Да, Vitya?”

“Dude! You speak Russian too?” Richard looks like Yuuri just smacked him in the face. The school year just started, so they’re all still learning about each other.

Yuuri just smiles, since Victor is in the middle of one of his usual mid-morning crises. “Vitya, calm down,” he says in Russian. “Makkachin is probably out with Yura. You know he takes her for walks sometimes. Have you seen him today?”

He manages to get Victor off the phone just before class starts, flipping his phone to airplane mode since he’s sure that this isn’t the last he’ll be hearing from his lovable trainwreck of a husband.



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Skulls and Roses ☠️🥀

JUNGKOOK - COLLEGE AU, TATTOOIST AU. 

The best way to get someone’s attention is to get a tattoo or hit someone with your motorcycle. 

PART TWO

Originally posted by sugutie

“Shit, shit, shit, shit.” you sprint across the quad, pushing past students and jumping over bushes and benches like a track star doing hurdles. The chanting of the curse word only gets louder and faster once you looked down at your watch once again and saw that your class would start in less than a minute and you were a mile away from the science building.

You’re too distracted with staring at your watch that you don’t notice that you’re in the middle of the street until your face is touching the rough pavement and some random guy is sprawled beside you. At first, you think that it’s a boulder that had fallen from the mountains that surrounded your campus but when your vision focused on the black lump you realized it was a helmet.

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What’s wrong with me?– Jeff Atkins x Reader

Request: Can I request a Jeff imagine me where he’s been asking you out for a while now and you always turn him down? So one day you hear him talking to clay about how it’s actually starting to hurt him a bit cuz what’s wrong wit him? And his jock buddies give him shit and tease him about which upsets him so you shock all of them by going up and kissing him which leads to a hot makeout and ask him on a date.

Words: 2703

Enjoy it!

Reader’s point of view.

Your name: submit What is this?

I smiled looking at myself through the rearview mirror. I loved when my mom had the day off, that meant I could get the car to school, save me the monotonous and disgusting bus rides. It isn’t as if my mother went out to have fun, her days off from work, she is doing yoga in front of the TV, it wasn’t too much that the “coach” was too attractive. I shivered and concentrated on the road, until that point I was already entering the Liberty High parking lot. The disadvantage of bringing the car is that I mistrusted and was late, something that wouldn’t happen if I were traveling in the yellow device. Now finding a parking lot would be a challenge.

After a full turn, I finally find a decent place, not so far but not so close to the door, perfect. Before maneuvering to enter that space, a car closed the way and got into MY place. I stepped on the brakes and glared at the bold.  I knew the car perfectly. Instead of staying there, I found another place to two cars away, from that to stay grumbling. Yes, I was too lucky.

“Are you serious, Atkins?” I raised my voice after getting out of the car and hanging my backpack over my shoulder.

Jeff was walking toward me with a big smile and fiddling with the keys of his carriage. Asshole.

“This becomes a danger zone every morning, Y/L, you would know if you brought your car every day”

“Funny”

I started to walk with him to my side. We were in the same course, connected in our first year, we were good friends, maybe I could even consider him my best friend, it’s not like I had many in high school. Most were either useless sportsmen, or just people who weren’t worth it.  He was taking me with a few, especially since Jeff was very close to them, almost entering his social circle. They were not bad guys, but somewhat immature for my taste. Sometimes they made me laugh.

“So I heard that this new movie will be on Saturday … Let’s go together?”

Yeah, we were good friends though Jeff was determined to change that. My friend was attractive, too much to admit, but my mind was somewhere else to focus on a boyfriend. In addition, our friendly relationship worked perfectly, we sometimes studied together, I was going to see him at his baseball games, and I even stayed after school with him and Clay for his tutorials. I could come and go as often as i wanted and he did that too. We were perfectly fine, why did we need a label? What if “being dating” didn’t work? All those years of friendship would go away. Just to think about my last months in this institute without the company of my best friend, to be avoiding it by the corridors and to meet us in uncomfortable looks, left me the sensation to be without air. No, I wouldn’t let him lose it for a silly etiquette.

“How on a date?” I remembered that I hadn’t answered him.

I turned to look at him and he smiled in embarrassment. Jeff Atkins was never embarrassed. He was the most honest and funny guy on the whole site. If I didn’t know Clay Jensen, I would sign with blood that Jeff was the only one. Everyone else behaved more like idiots.

“Yes?” His answer sounded more like a question. Well, he left the decision to me again.

I sighed and settled the backpack as a reflex act.

“You did a good swing, Atkins, but I’m sorry to say you got a strike”

He raised his eyebrows and I smiled, wanting to erase the rejection I had given him. It hadn’t been the first, but sometimes I felt like the bad in this relationship. Our “dates” were reduced to exits between friends, and that was because I was in charge of enlisting Sheri with us and him, usually Clay. At one time, we invited Hannah, but lately she was walking in her own world, feeling the tension only to approach her. Too bad, it turned out to be a really fun girl.

I increased my pace. We didn’t have to stay together in the hall, our first period was different, while he was killing himself in history, I had to endure the headache of algebra. I also needed help but no one threatened to get me out of a team simply because I didn’t belong to any. That was how it was.

“Are you serious?” The good thing about my best friend is that he took rejections with grace. “You are very rude to me, Y/N!”

“I see you at rest!” I shouted at him in response and unconsciously stepped up. I never let him see guilt in me after an Olympic rejection.

At lunchtime, we took our usual table; Clay kept his eyes on his task that ignored our mini meal fight between Jeff and me. He made me eat one of his fries, but they were too greasy for my liking. Thanks to that, we didn’t go unnoticed, neither by his companions as for the rest of the school. Suddenly, I noticed how his teammates were passing by and said things to Jeff that I couldn’t grasp, used as keys that I didn’t understand. I looked at Jeff who looked down for a few seconds before turning to see me and smiling as if nothing.

“What was that?”

“It’s nothing.” He grabbed his backpack and stood up. “See you after school, Jensen?”

For the first time, Clay looked up and nodded. Jeff said goodbye to both of us and left in the opposite direction to his companions, I frowned even confused; it was incredible how my friend’s mood changed in a few seconds. I bit my lip and pushed aside my tray of food, strangely I was without appetite.

“What’s wrong with Jeff?” I asked. Clay knew him as well as I did.

The boy shrugged and looked in the direction where our friend had disappeared. I said goodbye to Clay, especially since I had just seen Hannah Baker enter the cafeteria. Jeff and I had a plan, before we graduated, we had to get these two to have something. They were too shy to approach the one and the other that we decided to intervene, rather I joined the cause, because it was a kind of deal between the two men. However, it was difficult, I was going to take care of Hannah, but she was very distant, I couldn’t approach. I sighed and left the cafeteria. I’d waste my time in the locker.

I doubted if it would be a good idea to interfere with the tutoring hours of my friends, I don’t know what was different now, if I always did, but my best friend’s behavior was too strange after the cafeteria. It made me panic to approach him. Among my doubts, I ended up in the school library, if I wandered around maybe in the end would encourage me to approach your table. I ended up on one of the closest shelves, Jeff and Clay seemed to be talking about something that didn’t look like tutorials since neither of them looked at their respective books. I went a little closer, covering my face with a book chosen at random. I pretended to read it.

“Jeff Atkins, asking me for advice on relationships?” I listened to Clay with humor. “The deal was supposed to be that you would help me with it, not the other way around.” I lowered the book a little to notice my best friend with his eyes on Pencil playing between his fingers. I went back to cover “I was paying my salary in the Cresmont that you would never go through this”

I bit my lip, afraid to know now what they were talking about, or rather … of whom. I repressed the book down again.

“I don’t know what else to do, dude.” Jeff’s voice broke my heart, but why? “She’s not like the other girls I’ve dated, it’s a challenge, but not that kind of challenge.” I started to consider whether it was a good idea to stay or not to listen, but my feet were stuck.

“Don’t stop trying” Clay encouraged.

“I don’t do it. I invite her to go out and it is always the same result: No. “I fear that someday she will get tired and send me to the devil”

My blood ran cold. They had not yet pronounced my name but knew perfectly well that they were talking about me. My hands began to tremble.

“I don’t think so. You two make a good team. It’s hard to see a Jeff without Y/N, or a Y/N without a Jeff” I glanced over and watched my friend smile. I did too. It was true; we could complement us in an incredible way.

I watched Jeff’s profile, again thinking away from his friendship, made me feel short of breath. I couldn’t imagine my life without having met him; he managed to understand me, my problems, my follies and occasionally my pessimism. The random memory hit me on a Saturday that taught me to hit, I could feel his body on my back and his arms around mine, even his hands on mine to help me hold the bat well. It had felt good, I didn’t have the imperative need to get away like when Bryce Walker tried to get too close to me. That guy gave me a very bad spine. Instead, with Jeff, I sometimes needed to have him close to feel that I breathe well, that everything is going its natural course. There was no Y/N Y/L without a Jeff Atkins, it couldn’t, and there was no consistency. It was like going against nature. My heart sped up and I hid my face again between the pages.

“Clay. What is wrong with me?” I had a gasp, only a few verbal rejects, at no time I distanced myself from him, after my negatives we were as normal as ever. Nothing had changed. I had the need to jump and give him a zap, Nothing was wrong with you, Atkins, you’re amazing, the best guy I’ve ever met! But I stood still with the lump in my throat.

“Nothing, dude. Let’s go back to your history essay, you need to distract your mind”

I listened as he agreed to the idea and I moved from shelf to the place where they didn’t see me. I put my hand to my chest and inhaled deep breaths. Why did i feel like crying? Maybe because Jeff didn’t notice the way I did, what could be wrong with him? He was a committed boy, especially now that his position in the team depended on his qualifications, attentive, pleasant, he isn’t of those who believed in rumors … and above all, he was an excellent friend of Clay and mine. How could there be anything wrong with that? Why cann’t you see yourself as I see you? I bit my lip.

“I saw you” Jessica came out of nowhere and gave me the shock of my life. She started laughing “Spying on people’s conversations? That’s too much for you”

I rolled my eyes.

"I guess I couldn’t help it,” I murmured.

“I heard them, too. I’ve never seen Jeff that way; he always has a smile on his face."I nodded to the cheerleader’s words. Suddenly, she started to laugh "Don’t you realize, Y/N?” I looked at her strangely “He’s in love with you! The whole institute knows this, obviously everyone, except you”

“We are good friends”

“So? That doesn’t take away the feelings, the question here is, Are you in love with him? ”

I was silent, I opened my mouth to answer her but I couldn’t, Why couldn’t I? I should deny it, but why didn’t i? Jessica Davis smiled.

“Do I confess something?” I waited quietly. “The way you look at Jeff, is the same way I look at Justin. Think about it. "She winked at me before leaving.

If my best friend’s words had left me frozen, Jessica’s words hit me. I looked over my shoulder toward the boys’ table, was I in love with my best friend? As I would know, I had never fallen in love with anyone in my life.

I ran as if my life depended on it to the baseball field, simply because my friend’s fool had forgotten his bat in the car and I as a good person i was, and because I knew the combination of his locker to get the keys, I did him the favor. Anyway, at home I was expecting some of those Mom’s smooth naturist, I wasn’t very excited to return soon. Before giving me sight in front of the team, I heard the boys howling and booing. I stopped and looked out, Jeff was in front of them, pretending to have difficulty raising the zipper of his sweatshirt. As I perceived quickly, they were making fun of him.

"Give it up at once, Atkins.” One of them said. I frowned. “You’re losing your good reputation for just one girl”

Not again, please. I pressed the bat in my hands.

“Let go and pass her, I assure you that I get an appointment with her long before you,” another of his classmates boasted. I was getting angry.

How could it be that they messed with him for some nonsense? I was nothing special, why did they all talk as if I were some sort of trophy? I looked at Jeff, he was still focused on his feigned task, but the gesture on his lips told me that he was having a bad time, so I got sick, it couldn’t be that my fear of losing him by spoiling everything with a label, So much harm to him. My eyes filled with tears, but I didn’t cry, instead, I smiled and walked resolutely towards them.

“Eh!” Shouted one of them with joy.

I didn’t look at any of them, my eyes were on my best friend’s, wanting to pretend he was more than okay. I didn’t stop until I felt my lips against his. I dropped the bat to our side and wrapped my fingers in his hair pulling him closer to me. His response, in the first place, was that his mouth was sealed by surprise, when he caught what was happening, he joined the same rhythm as me, bringing his hands to my waist. I didn’t part until the shouts of joy of his companions became present.

“Damn!” I recognized the voice of the one who at the beginning bet that I would go out with him.

I looked into Jeff’s eyes and smiled broadly. This kiss, which at first wanted to taste something, simply felt good. I began to feel that I was complete, even though I thought I had been before.

“I thought better, why wait until Saturday? Let’s have a date now.” My best friend’s eyes shone, I felt an extreme happiness inside, not for him, for me. “Oh, better, did you tell me that your parents are not going to be home all day? How about a bit of Netflix and chill? ”

His friends laughed, he too, but a little more shy.

“Come on.” He took my hand firmly.

“Boys” I gave a single glance at their companions, they began to cheer and push, like vile apes.

I laughed and looked back. When we lost sight of the team, Jeff stopped and looked at me even in shock.

“You were serious?”

“About the kiss or Netflix and chill?” I couldn’t stop smiling.

“Both of them”

“Now I know that I’m sure of the kiss” I bit my lip “Of the other, of course I was serious, a little more seriously in the chill part”

Jeff’s smile was the biggest i had ever seen. My heart skipped a beat.

“Then I drive. Later we’ll get back for your car”

Penelope & Derek’s Matchmaking Service

Originally posted by theonewiththevows

Prompt: The reader and Reid both have a crush on the other person but are too scared of ruining their friendship to tell the other person. Penelope decided to give them a little push and drags Derek into her mischevious scheme.

A/N: This was an idea that popped into my head because I could definitely see Morgan and Garcia meddling in their coworkers love lives. I’m not opposed to making a part two of this, so let me know if that’s something that you would want. Also, anyone who can catch the subtle F.R.I.E.N.D.S. reference that is in here somewhere is my favorite person ever. Enjoy :)

Note: (Y/F/C) = your favorite candy

Warning: nothing

Word Count: 3k

Rating: PG


Penelope sighed in frustration as she watched you and Spencer alternate staring at each other. It was almost painful the way that neither of you actually caught the other doing so. It was like some form of fate caused you to look away a second before Spencer decided to look up. Derek noticed her standing in the doorway. “Hey Baby Girl,” he called and walked over to her. She muttered a “hello” before huffing and crossing her arms. “Whoa whoa whoa, what’s the matter gorgeous? Those processing systems in that big brain of yours hung up on something?”

“How does it not drive you crazy?” she mumbled and Morgan raised an eyebrow at her. 

“How does what not drive me crazy?”

“The two of them!” she whisper-shouted and spun around walking off toward her lair. Derek rolled his eyes, but obediently followed her down the hall. 

“Gonna need a little more information sweetness,” he told her, leaning against the doorframe. 

“Oh c’mon, do I need to spell it out for you? (Y/N) and Spencer. The way those two are pining after each other it’s both sickening and sweet at the same time. I’m not even a profiler and I can tell that they are head over heels. I mean I know (Y/N) is because she told me one night when I got her super drunk with the intent of forcing the information out of her, but that is beside the point,” Penelope explained as she pulled up the bullpen’s security video feed and maneuvered the cameras so they were facing you and Spencer’s desks. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’m people watching.”

“Do you do this all the time?” Morgan asked standing behind her chair.

“Only when we don’t have a case or anything else to do,” Penelope defended, “You would not believe how boring it gets in here and you people never come visit me!” 

“But why- you know what nevermind. Just please tell me that you don’t mess with the cameras in my office.”

“My vision, you are the object of my affection but for the most part my attentions have been focussed on my current OTP as you never do anything interesting in your office.”

“Forgive me for actually doing work instead of making googly eyes at my coworkers.”

“So you have noticed!”

“Of course I’ve noticed. The whole team has noticed. The only ones in the dark about it are the two of them,” Derek chuckled. Penelope smiled as she watched the two of you. You had gone over to ask Spencer something, but he had been so focused on his work you’d startled him and he’d almost spilled his coffee all over himself. 

“They are so cute,” she sighed, “Derek I want my OTP to be together!”

“Somehow I don’t think we get a vote or have the power to make that happen,” he replied, kissing the top of her head. Penelope suddenly perked up. 

“But what if we did?”

“What are you talking about?” he asked as she spun her chair around. 

“What if there was a way that we could force Reid’s hand and make him admit something or ask her out?”

“Baby Girl, Reid has specifically told me that he doesn’t want me messing with this. You think I haven’t tried to get him to make a move?”

“He told you that, but he never told me,” she chirped, turning back toward her computer and started typing away. She pulled up a website for custom floral arrangements and started clicking on various options. 

“What are you doing?”

“Creating something that all of you men hate. Competition,” she replied, patting the side of his face. A few more minutes of meddling the order had been placed, ready to be delivered tomorrow morning. 

“Why do I get the feeling I’m going to be the one he blames for this?” Derek sighed shaking his head. 

“Ha, do not worry my vision. If all goes bad, we pretend like it never happened,” Penelope told him.


You walked into the bullpen the next morning smiling happily as you carried two cups of coffee. You glanced around looking for Spencer, before nonchalantly setting one of the cups down on his desk and arranged the mountain of sugar packets you’d also brought into an orderly pile. You quickly scurried back to your desk and sat down, trying to look casual as you waited for Spencer to arrive. “No coffee for the rest of us, I’m genuinely hurt,” Derek teased, as he sat down on your desk.

“Hey, the only order I remember is Spence’s because it’s the easiest thing ever: a large black coffee and then just bring the whole container of sugar to him,” you replied trying to casually look around him. 

“Uh huh,” Morgan muttered, clearly unconvinced. 

“Good morning,” Reid said as he walked over to his desk past the two of you. 

“Hi, Spencer,” you chirped, “I stopped for coffee this morning and brought you some.”

“Thank you so much, you would not believe the morning I’ve had. How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you replied tucking your hair behind your ear. 

“Well, thank you. Did you know that coffee was banned three times in three different cultures: once in Mecca in the 16th century, once when Charles II in Europe banned the drink in an attempt to quiet an ongoing revolution, and once when Frederick the Great banned coffee in Germany in 1677 because he was concerned people were spending too much money on the drink,” he rambled. You smiled and shoved Morgan off of your desk, so you could actually see Spencer. 

“Well, I didn’t know that, but I do know that banning coffee should be a crime,” you giggled. Reid smiled back at you and opened his mouth to say something but suddenly went pale. “What’s-”

“I have a delivery for a Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” a man said cutting you off. 

“That would be me,” you replied, turning around. “What can..I..do..” you stuttered as you came face to face with a huge vase of lilies and red roses. 

“Sign here please,” the delivery man said, handing you a clipboard and setting the vase down on your desk. You scribbled your signature down on the form and handed it back to the man. “Have a nice day,” he said walking away. 

“Yeah, you too,” you muttered still too focussed on your flowers. 

“Oh my god, those are gorgeous,” JJ mentioned as she walked over to your desk. 

“Who are they from?” Emily asked, joining the two of you.

“I have no idea,” you replied, pulling the card off the side of the vase. 

“Read it,” JJ urged leaning in closer. None of you noticed that Spencer had unconsciously leaned closer to the group as well trying to listen. 

“Nothing can ever compare to your beauty, but these flowers are certainly a nice way to compliment it. I hope these make that lovely smile of yours appear on your face, signed your secret admirer,” you read out loud and closed the card. 

“Oooh, this is interesting,” Emily said nudging your shoulder. 

“Any idea who it could be?” JJ asked. 

“Not a clue,” you replied, sitting back down in your chair, “I’m not seeing anyone and no one has asked me out recently.”

“Anyone who you hope it is?” 

“Yeah, but considering he hasn’t shown the slightest sign of interest I’m pretty sure it isn’t him,” you mumbled. Unbeknownst to you, Spencer had wandered away into the break room fuming. This happened every time he’d finally work up the courage to ask you out on a date or flirt with you at all something would happen. Morgan would come interrupt,  Hotch would suddenly announce that you had a case, or in this case, some jerk would write you poetry and send you flowers. He downed the rest of the coffee that you had bought him and started making another cup. 

“You ok, Pretty Boy?” Derek asked watching Spencer stir the coffee quite angrily. 

“Just peachy,” Spencer growled. 

“Ya know, you could just ask her out. (Y/N) has no idea who sent her those flowers,” Derek casually mentioned. 

“Ha yeah right, I’m reasonably certain she’d rather have fancy flower man whoever he is,” he grumbled. 

“Fancy flower man? Really Reid, that’s the best you can come up with?” Derek asked trying not to laugh. 

“I have plenty of other vulgar things I could call him so don’t push it.”

“Hey, I’m not the one encroaching on your girl, but I would recommend you do something about it before you loose her to fancy flower man.”

“You think I should what?”

“Well, you’re her friend. I’m pretty sure you can find a way to top the giant array of flowers that he sent her.”

“I definitely could,” Spencer muttered, deep in thought, “I need to get to work but first I’m going to get Garcia to figure out who sent those to her.”

“Uh,” Derek stuttered, trying to come up with a way to divert him, “Why does it matter who it is? You should be more concerned with your plan to woo her, you can worry about who it was later.”

“You’re right. I’m going to take my lunch early. I need to go get a few things,” Spencer said and quickly rushed back to his desk to grab his wallet. Derek sighed in relief, happy that he’d managed to redirect Reid’s thought process, and made himself a cup of coffee. Your sudden presence in the break room caught his attention. “And where are you going lady of the hour?” he asked sipping his coffee.

“I’m grabbing another sugar for my coffee and then I’m going to get Garcia to find out who this admirer person is.” Derek did a spit take and started coughing. “Whoa, you ok?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. But maybe you should just let this play out? See if he reveals himself to you?”

“Derek, I just want to know who it is so I can tell him I’m not interested. There’s only one guy who’s attention I want and he seems to not really care.”

“Sweetness, Reid is a great guy just a little awkward and shy when it comes to ladies, you might try being a bit more obvious about it,” he teased. You furrowed your brow and slowly turned your head toward him. 

“How did you know I have a crush on Spencer?”

“I’m a profiler and I’m really good at my job.” Derek replied.

“Yeah sometimes I forget what we do for a living.”

“And the fact that Penelope can’t keep her mouth shut,” he muttered quietly to himself. Just not quiet enough.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing!”

“I’m going to kill her!” you growled and stormed off toward Penelope’s office. 

“No no no, wait!” Derek shouted as he chased after you. You tore the door open and walked in. 

“Hello my lovely, what can I do for you today?” Penelope chirped. You narrowed your eyes at her before flicking her on the side of the head. 

“OW!” she shrieked. “What was that for?” 

“I cannot believe you told Derek that I like Spencer. I told you that in confidence and you swore you wouldn’t tell another soul,” you fumed.

“Technically you told me that while you were drunk.”

“Same thing!”

“But you know I tell my chocolate thunder everything, so you should’ve expected this.”

“Ugh, my life is over,” you whined. “Spencer is still acting weird and now some stranger has sent me flowers. Can you make yourself useful and tell me who sent those at least?”

“I take offense to that comment!”

“Who told shared a secret that she swore she would take to the grave?”

“Fine,” she muttered, “but I already know who sent them. I looked it up earlier.”

“Then who is it?”

“It’s uh, Brian in payroll,” 

“Brian in payroll?”

“Mhm,” she mumbled, twisting a piece of hair around her finger.

“Uh huh, does Brian in payroll have a last name?” you asked crossing your arms.

“Yes, yes he definitely does.”

“Yeah? What it is then?”

“Well, I can tell you that it is most certainly not Morgan or Garcia.”

“Penelope,” you groaned. “Why would you do that?”

“I’m just trying to spice it up, you know force our dearest doctor’s hand.”

“Yes and in doing that you’ve managed to scare him. He took off fifteen minutes ago,” you grumbled flopping down in the chair beside her. 

“Aw, sweets it’s gonna be ok.”

“My life is over.”

“Hey look on the bright side, at least you got some bitchin flowers,” she said trying to lighten the mood. You lifted your head and glared at her.

“Not funny.” 

“(Y/N), you need to get back to your desk and take a look at this,” Derek said as he walked into Penelope’s office.

“And you! You knew she was going to do this and you didn’t stop her,” you growled and stalked over to him, poking his chest. 

“As upset as you are right now, I really think you should just go back to your desk. You might like what you find,” Derek replied pushing your hand away. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“If this is another part of this BS plan you two have going on, I’m going to kill you both,” you grumbled, stalking down the hallway. 

“What are you doing?” Penelope whispered at Derek, as they followed you. 

“Just watch,” he replied with a smug look on his face. You were expecting to see yet another bouquet of flowers that the two of them had sent to you, but you certainly weren’t expecting this. Your desk was scattered with various pieces of paper and rose petals. A large white teddy bear was sitting in your chair with a bouquet of gardenias nestled in its arms and a bag of (Y/F/C) tucked in beside it. You stood rooted in place out of surprise until Derek gave you a slight nudge. You walked forward and picked up one of the pieces of paper. You smiled as you recognized Spencer’s handwriting and started reading. It was a poem by Christina Rossetti, one of your favorites actually “I loved you first”. You had talked about this with Spencer months ago, when you both discovered your shared love of poetry. From the looks of it, he had managed to write down all of your favorite poems on these little notes (probably including a few of his own favorites) and put them all over your desk. You plucked the bouquet of gardenias out of the bear’s arms and smelled them. 

“Red roses traditionally symbolize love and passion while gardenias’ symbolize pure, secret love which more accurately displays how I feel about you,” Spencer mumbled from behind you. You immediately spun around and dropped the bouquet back in your chair, before throwing your arms around his neck and crashing your lips into his. He seemed to be stunned for a few seconds, before kissing you back and wrapping his arms around your waist. Hoots and hollers came from all around the office, mainly from Penelope and Emily. You separated a little breathlessly and rested your forehead against his. The pair of you were smiling from ear to ear. “Please tell me this isn’t a dream,” he muttered closing his eyes. 

“Nope,” you replied popping the “p”, “I’m real.”

“So I take it you like me too or else I think you’ve been sending some very mixed signals.” You chuckled and kissed him again. 

“Does that answer your question?” you asked, after you’d pulled back. 

“I think it does, and to think I had a whole speech planned out to make you at least go on one date with me,” he replied scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. You just shook your head and smiled at him.

“That’s so sweet, but how on earth did you have time to set this up? I couldn’t have been gone more than fifteen minutes,” you said, turning slightly to look at your desk,

“14 minutes and 23 seconds actually, but I’ve had the notes sitting in my bag for about a week now,” he told you. 

“Ok, that’s enough, back to work all of you,” Hotch said, commotion having finally drawn him out of his office. There was a collective “sorry” muttered from around the office, before Hotch turned his attention to the two of you. “Do we need to have a conversation or can I trust that this isn’t going to affect work?”

“I think we’re good,” you answered. 

“Good, now I need to call Dave and inform him that he owes me twenty bucks as do the two of you,” Hotch chuckled motioning JJ and Emily. The two women groaned slightly before reaching for their purses. 

“Wait, what?” Spencer asked raising an eyebrow, keeping his arms wrapped around your waist. 

“To make a long story short, we started a pool going for how long it would take the two of you to get together after three months of watching the two of you flirt. I had yesterday, Hotch had today, Rossi had tomorrow, and JJ had next Monday,” Emily explained as she walked up the stairs and handed the money to Hotch, who gladly pocketed it and went back in his office to presumably call Rossi who was off on vacation time. 

“I cannot believe this! How many people in this office are invloved in our love lives?” you cried in frustration, even though you were smiling. 

“Wait, who else is involved in our love life?” Spencer asked, looking down at you confused. 

“And that’s our cue to run chocolate thunder,” Penelope muttered, as she took off running dragging Derek along behind her. You shook your head and laughed, all irritation suddenly vanishing. 

“Wonder what that was about,” Reid thought out loud, as you unwound from his arms and moved all his gifts out of your chair. 

“Don’t worry about it, just remind me to tell Brian from payroll to send her some flowers,” you told him. He looked very confused but just shrugged and kissed your forehead. You grinned up at him, knowing that this was the start of one of the best times in your life. 

Wanna Bet? (M)

Rich Fuckboy!Jimin x Tutor!reader

PART II  |  PART III

Word Count: 2,782

Summary: Working as a private tutor at the most prestigious university in the region, you had to put up with a lot of bratty kids. Though none were as bad as Park Jimin. Just as your luck would have it, you’ve been assigned to be his full-time tutor for the year….great. After many failed attempts to get his grades up, Jimin comes up with a bet to raise his marks. What’s the worst that can happen, right?

A/N - This is my fic, just re-posting on my sideblog!


You were grateful for this job, you really were. Some days, it was just really hard to be grateful. You worked at the wealthiest, all boys university this side of the country. You’re a private tutor, working with a maximum of five students a year. Things have been going well for you, you’re known as the best tutor at the school, so parents are flocking to you to help their precious spoiled brats. Hey, at least the money is decent.

Your whole week, scratch that, year has gone downhill the moment you get a call from the Dean.

“Y/n? Yes, hello. We’re going to need you to take on a student full time at the start of the new school year. I know this is a lot, so the pay will be increased, and you won’t have to take any other students. You will be tutoring five days a week for this student. Can you do it?”

“Um, yes, I don’t see why not…” growing a little curious as to why the dean himself is contacting you, you ask, “who is the student, Sir?”

“Park Jimin.” Shit.

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Body Language (One Shot)

A/N: This was a request from @ihavetwobuckystomyname a very long time ago, and I’m super sorry that this took so long to write, hun! I hope you enjoy it! There’s a song that goes to this as well and it’s right here if you wanna listen!

Body Language - Reader and Bucky have been in a relationship for a while, and she’s ready to take the relationship to the next level. But Reader has a small problem: she’s deaf. 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Deaf Reader 

Warnings: Smut. Language. Slight mentions of past neglect. Bucky being adorable. NSFW!

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compliments part 2 - zach dempsey

requested: yes

word count: 2.216

warnings: none besides fluff i think

plot: zach decides to (nervously) confront you after finding out you’re the one slipping compliments in his bag

a/n: i Cannot believe a 2nd part was requested i cant believe you guys enjoyed the first part and sent me messages!! i wasn’t planning on writing this but here she is since y’all are cute as heck


Originally posted by veronicsalodge

Thursday night found Zach Dempsey sprawled on his bed.

A week worth of complimentary notes was at the foot of the bed. Some were folded, some all the way open but none of them were in their original, pristine state. They were crumpled, thing that probably happened whenever the boy stuffed them in his pockets.

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