the only boss i respond to

There’s A Nap For That

Based on this post: “If you both agree to take a nap instead of going out, it’s a date.” 

Or: The one where Bellamy and Clarke keep taking naps together. You know, platonically. See also: Let Them Rest

A/N: I started this before New Years and thought it would be done in like, three days. Oh how naive. But hey, here we are!

WC: ~6.5k
Read on AO3

Clarke doesn’t plan to be alone on New Year’s Eve, but she also doesn’t plan not to be alone–if that makes sense. She could fly back to Los Angeles and attend her mother’s extravagant corporate party, if she wanted to put herself through that. It’s definitely an option.

But she’s long since decided that it’s better to deal with the vague feelings of missing out on the New Year’s celebration over fielding questions about why she’s not following in her mother’s footsteps or, god forbid, whether she’s gotten over that whole sexuality thing yet.

So she calls Abby the night before the party, fulfills her yearly, good-daughter quota of well wishes and pleasantries, and calls it good.

And really, doing nothing on New Year’s Eve is kind of the best thing that’s happened her, stress-wise, in the last six months.

She works in the graphic design department for an uber-trendy website that facilitates commissions for freelance artists, which makes it an incredibly lucrative avenue to get her name out there in the industry. It just also happens that the company is very concerned with staying up-to-date with aesthetic trends, and has her changing logos and web layouts on a weekly basis.

It’s the kind of somewhat crappy, over demanding job that she feels weirdly excited to have, because it means her mom isn’t paying people to make her life easier.

But it has been running her to the bone, so she’s positively delighted to do absolutely nothing for a night.

Or she is until she finds out that Bellamy also doesn’t have plans for New Year’s Eve.

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It Takes a Big Person To Train Positively

Animals need motivation to do things they ordinarily wouldn’t. In the case of dogs, this could mean sitting when greeting a group of children, recalling from a fleeing rabbit, or ignoring another dog on a walk. You can motivate your dog to perform these low-probability behaviors with things that they find reinforcing (food, toys, cool opportunities), or you can motivate them with the threat of punishment.

Carrying a treat pouch in order to reinforce your dog does not de-value your existence any more than a corrective collar would. Either way, you are utilizing something in order to help improve your dog’s behavior. It’s up owner’s to decide whether they would like to create a dog who listens out of anticipation of good things, or one who listens out of fear of punishment.

It’s unfortunate that many choose the latter, but it is also understandable. Owners of dogs who consistently misbehave are enormously frustrated for obvious reasons. Poorly behaved dogs cause their owner’s tremendous amounts of stress, and stressed out humans are not known for their excessive compassion. And I think that’s where the divide in training methods start.

Some people can be big. They can ignore or avoid the aggressive driver (knowing that getting into a car accident with some jerk isn’t worth what they’d gain by getting ahead on the road). They can smile and assist the rude customer (knowing that telling them off isn’t worth losing their job). And they can take a deep breath and ignore misbehavior from their dog long enough to come up with a plan (knowing that whatever pissed-off reaction they were about to have is probably not the most appropriate course of action long-term).

They understand that every behavior an animal displays leads to reinforcement – and that sometimes, the way to come out on top with that animal involves being nice (even when you rather wouldn’t be). They understand that sometimes, in order to get ahead, it is best to disregard perceived slights and keep your eyes on a goal.

This is the group that people who choose positive reinforcement training fall into.


They can ignore the jumping dog, rather than yelling “No! Off!”, because they understand that the jumping dog wants attention, and negative attention is better than none.

They can swiftly leap into happy / jolly-mode to re-direct their dog if it growls at another, because they understand that the next step will be a full-blown reaction of lunging and barking.

They can walk away from the dog who has declined to drop their toy on request, because they understand that the dog would like to continue the game rather than posess the toy.

It takes a big person to do those things. Other people will succumb to their impulses.

They will yell at a jumping dog, because they want it off right now.

They will yell at or collar-correct a growling dog, because they want politeness right now.

They will physically intervene and wrestle the toy away from their dog, because they feel entitled to it right now.

The big people will pause. They will think:

“If I yell at this dog now, it will seek attention from me the same way later.”

“If I punish this dog for growling now, I will increase the insecure behaviors that cause it to growl (or worse) later.”

“If I wrestle this toy from my dog’s mouth now, I will increase the chances of them guarding resources later.”

Essentially, dog owners and trainers are left in two camps: those who consider various scenarios and train for them (humanely and) proactively, and those who wait for issues to arise before responding to them (negatively and) reactively. When you do the former, there is no need for the latter. But only big people find it possible to remember this.

It is easy to want dogs to listen because ‘we are the boss’ – but big people understand that dominance theory has been de-bunked, no matter what we’d prefer to believe.  They know that dogs, like any animal, are driven to perform whatever behavior has the strongest reinforcement history. They will create training protocols based upon proven science, with confidence, knowing that what they are implementing is endorsed by decades-worth of ethological and behavioral research. 

Sometimes, change doesn’t happen immediately. And the big people know that. They do not get so concerned with what they want now as to forget their goals for later; which, for progressive trainers, is a dog who listens happily and without being frightened or hurt – not one who listens out of fear of being popped, zapped, kicked, choked, smacked, yelled at, or held on their side until they stop fighting.

Achieving the former may require the use of treats, which is what so many people will claim to oppose – but it requires far more than that. It requires the ability to be ‘big’ by setting aside our feelings of frustration and desires to act upon them long enough to observe the big picture. That, not treats, is ultimately what some people find impossible to 'carry around all the time’.

Man Discovers His ‘Invisible Advantage’ at Work After He Switches Email Signatures with a Female Colleague

A Pennsylvania man learned just how much subtle sexism women endure in the workplace when he and a female colleague conducted a surreptitious experiment that led to eye-opening results.

Martin Schneider opened up about the experiment in a series of tweets Thursday that have since gone viral, explaining what he learned when he and then-colleague Nicole Hallberg switched email signatures for a week.

“I was in hell,” Schneider wrote on Twitter. “Everything I asked or suggested was questioned. Clients I could do in my sleep were condescending. One asked if I was single.”

Hallberg, meanwhile, had a decidedly different experience.

“I had one of the easiest weeks of my professional life,” she wrote on Medium for a story she wrote about her experience. “He … didn’t.”

Schneider explained in his tweets that the whole experiment came about after he noticed a client was talking to him rudely, and couldn’t figure out why until he realized that their shared inbox meant he was inadvertently signing emails as “Nicole.”

So one day I’m emailing a client back-and-forth about his resume and he is just being IMPOSSIBLE. Rude, dismissive, ignoring my questions.

— Martin R. Schneider (@SchneidRemarks) March 9, 2017

When he explained to the client in email that he was actually talking to “Martin” instead of “Nicole” he said there was an “immediate improvement.”

“Positive reception, thanking me for suggestions, responds promptly, saying ‘great questions!’ Became a model client,” Schneider tweeted.

“Note,” he also tweeted. “My technique and advice never changed. The only difference was that I had a man’s name now.”

Schneider, who supervised Hallberg, also explained that after their experiment he finally understood why it took her longer to get work done — an issue he says irked their mutual boss.

“I showed the boss and he didn’t buy it. I told him that was fine, but I was never critiquing her speed with clients again,” he wrote.

I wasn’t any better at the job than she was, I just had this invisible advantage.

— Martin R. Schneider (@SchneidRemarks) March 9, 2017

Hallberg, meanwhile, writes in her Medium post that while Schneider might have been shocked by the results of their experiment, she was, well, not.

“I would like the record to show that I have the filthiest mouth in the tri-state area, and one of my pasttimes has always been trying to come up with jokes off-color enough that I can actually embarrass Marty,” she wrote. “I would also like the record to show that I developed a trucker’s mouth and bawdy sense of humor precisely because I’ve always had to act ‘like a man’ to be found funny and be accepted in male spaces.”

From COINAGE: 5 Financial Mistakes to Avoid in Your 20s

Schneider put it in ever starker terms: “For me, this was shocking. For her, she was USED to it. She just figured it was part of her job.”

“I wasn’t any better at the job than she was,” he also wrote. “I just had this invisible advantage.”

From the Dining Table

This was heavily inspired by this song. don’t listen to it unless you want to think about your ex and possibly cry. I definitely didn’t cry lol.

I don’t know why I can only write post-break up!Finn but it is what it is. but it’s still very different from anything I’ve ever wrote. let me know what you think.

Finn Balor x OC

Maybe one day you’ll call and tell me you’re sorry, too. 

Originally posted by thearchitectwwe

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Black Hat x Reader

A/N: Alright!! My first BH x reader insert! Pretty much just fluff. You make your attractive boss a cake, nuff said. I really hope y'all like it! Also, I’m craving cake in case you couldn’t tell. Hope you enjoy!!!

“Y/N!!!” Your heart quickened at the sound of your boss, the infamous Black Hat, calling you from down the hall. You could hear his footsteps grow louder as he approached the office/ Laboratory you shared with Dr. Flug. Really, all you had was a desk near the door, as far away from the occasional explosion as possible. So there was nowhere to hide when Black Hat came bursting through the door. His face turned to you slowly, and in his hand he held a small cake. “Alright, you idiotic do-gooder, Explain.” He ordered in a low growl. You leaned back in both fear and admiration. Your feelings for your boss had always been confusing to you. Physically, the attraction was obvious. Black Hat was a well kept, powerful, and suave man. But where you were kind and patient, Black Hat was evil and…well…even more evil. You never had the courage to be so upfront about your feelings as Demencia did, but you always tried to make up for it by attempting to make him the happiest an evil CEO could be. Unfortunately, your natural predisposition towards niceness and sensitivity led to the exchanges like the one you were having now. “You- Do you mean the cake, sir?” You asked wide eyed. “Of course I mean the cake, idiot! What does this look like to you, a tuna?!” He yelled, pointing to the well crafted pastry as he spoke, “I know you’re the only one in this mansion who could make this and also be stupid enough to leave it in my office!” You blinked a few times in response, and your boss sighed in frustration. “Black Hat Inc. has an image to uphold y/n. And that image does not include employees who run around baking cakes in their free time!” “Well, sir, I just thought-” “I pay Flug to think!” He responded. Somewhere in the Lab you heard a crash. Most likely Dr. Flug’s response to hearing his name come from your boss. “Yes, but sir! We are celebrating, aren’t we?” You asked, trying hard not to shrink away and hide under your desk. “Excuse me?” Black Hat asked menacingly, coming a few steps closer to your desk. You wondered if he could hear your heart pounding in your ears as clearly as you could. Your hands shook as you held up your calendar for him to see where you had circled today’s date. “T-Today is the company’s anniversary.” You explained, “I…I made you some devil’s food cake to celebrate your accomplishment. If you don’t like th-” “Devil’s food cake?” Black Hat asked, eyeing your culinary masterpiece suspiciously. “Uhhh…yeah. That’s what it’s called.” You replied, a bit confused. Pulling a fork out of thin air, he cautiously took a bite. Then laughed triumphantly. “Well if this so called ‘Devil’s cake’ is the most evil pastry known to man, we can out do it! We’re the only ones allowed to have a monopoly over evil-themed items!!” “Oh well, sir, it’s just a name. I don’t think-” “Of course you don’t!” Black Hat yelled, pulling you from your desk, “I pay Flug to think.” Another crash sounded behind you. “I pay you to produce the most evil of pastries.” He continued to drag you down the hall towards the kitchen, but all you could think was “HE’S HOLDIG MY HAND!!”

elle’s ‘I-have-read-it-more-than-once-and-will-do-so-again’ Kingsman multi-ship rec list

Exactly what the title says

End on an Exhale by @insanereddragon - M, Merhartwin

Harry sits down beside him, heedless of the dew or the grass, and picks up the crumpled pack. Eggsy finally looks over at him as he lights up and pulls in his first lungful.

“This ain’t a mission.”

Harry glances at him from the side. “Not mine, but I don’t think you’re done with yours yet. So we’ll stay here until you are.”


A series of moments in Harry, Eggsy, and Merlin’s relationship in which they are smoking.

So in real life I am very meeeh about smoking. But I won’t pretend I don’t find it hot. I am sure I am not the only one.

fuck me a rainbow by @tastymoves - E, Hartwin

“I want to try them.” He grins his cheekiest grin. “Repeatedly.”

“You make a compelling case, Eggsy. However, I do have to finish up here first so you might need to be a little more patient.”

Another groan from Eggsy. “That’s what I get for fucking the boss.”

“Getting fucked by the boss is more like it, isn’t it?” Harry responds as he turns his attention back to his laptop like it’s not half-buried in color changing condoms.

The perfect mix of funny and hot, do yourself a favor and go read this. Seriously, it’s intimate smut at his best.

Every Step You Take by LapisLazuli - E, Hartwin, Merlahad, Merhartwin

The day that Harry’s aesthetic appreciation of Eggsy became active want was a result of nothing remarkable. He had gone to speak with Merlin, who was monitoring a training session for the Lancelot candidates, and happened to glance down at the monitor just as Eggsy finished annihilating a series of long-distance targets on the range. He stood up, pushing his goggles back on his forehead, and positively beamed, his joy in the achievement as bright as the sun, and Harry actually felt his breath stutter in his lungs. Something about the combination of deadliness and innocence that Eggsy embodied so effortlessly simply reached right down into Harry’s chest and squeezed, and he could do nothing to prevent the sharp wave of lust that crashed over him.

That one is VERY hot okay. Just. Unf. Unf unf unf

My Love’s a Revolver by @fangirlasplosian - E, Merlahad

After certain kinds of missions, Harry Hart has two sure-fire ways to deal with pent-up adrenaline: Get pissed, or get laid. Unfortunately, the one time he takes someone home he’s interested in seeing again, he turns out to be a new coworker. A coworker with rules about about sleeping with colleagues.

Being a gentleman, Harry will respect Merlin’s boundaries. But the more they work together and get to know each other, the harder Harry finds it to keep propriety in check.

Red is the one who recced it to me a few months ago but by the gods am I glad she did. It is everything one might wish of a Merlahad story

Care and Custody by  esama  - T, Hartwin

Eggsy takes out the medal in slightly worse circumstances, asking for a miracle.

It is just such a good fix-it and an interesting AU of what could have happened if some things had been slightly different.

The Courting of Eggsy Unwin by @zombiisheep - E, Harry/Eggsy/Mark Darcy

How were there TWO Harry Harts? Eggsy couldn’t even handle one!

But then how was Harry standing in front of this cafe when he was supposed to be all the way in Brussels on an ambassador mission with Arthur?

Eggsy soon discovers that there is still a lot to learn about Harry Hart, starting with the fact that he has a twin brother, a one Mr. Mark Darcy. And Mark may share Harry’s face, but that’s where the similarities end. Where Harry is slick and charismatic, Mark is awkward and endearing. But for all of the charm Mark lacks, Eggsy can’t help but find himself falling for the bumbling barrister.

But when Harry returns and discovers that not only has his young protege has fallen for someone other than him (he may have been giving Eggsy the impression that he wasn’t interested, whoops), but it’s his estranged goody two shoes brother. The war for Eggsy’s heart begins, but none of them can plan for how it turns out.

(It ends with all three together, that’s where)

If twincest isn’t your thing, don’t read this. But if you don’t mind, zomg, go read this.

the canvas can do miracles by @sententiousandbellicose - T, Hartwin

After Kentucky, Harry will never be a knight again, but that doesn’t mean he’s lost everything. He still has the sea. He still has Eggsy. He just needs Eggsy to remind him of that. (In which Harry runs away and Eggsy waits for him to come back home.)

This story is just omg SO GOOD. It’s Harry-centric and everything I didn’t know I wanted to read about until Reg put it in words.

The Whole Truth by @oggalahad - G, Hartwinrox

Truth serum has never been perfected to actually get to the truth, and Eggsy is an expert at rambling about nothing.

A funny and sweet truth serum fic. What’s not to like?

Rainy Nights by LittleMissHara - T, Harroxy

Sometimes he just wondered a little too much, & she’d just tell him to stop, & that was perfectly okay.

Short but oh so very beautifully written

Written In the Stars by @potentiality-26 E, Hartwin

Harry blinked and said, “Eggsy,” with warmth but undeniable surprise.

Though he had anticipated exactly this reception, Eggsy barely managed to keep his face from falling. Harry never seemed anything but pleased by Eggsy’s visits, but the fact that he plainly expected to see less of Eggsy hurt. Eggsy suspected that Harry disapproved but was too kind to say so, and Harry would never have let good manners stop him from telling Eggsy where he was going wrong before; it was just one more sign that the ties that had bound them together for so long were unraveling

Eggsy becomes a knight. It doesn’t simplify his relationship with his master as much as he hoped it might.

It’s a Hartwin Star Wars AU where Eggsy was Harry’s padawan and they have a bond even after Eggsy becomes a Knight. OF COURSE I LOVE THAT BLOODY FIC AND I READ IT AGAIN AND AGAIN OKAY! (heck i dream of it having a sequel one day T^T) Also damn, it’s written by potentiality-26. I’ve never not like one of their fic.

Little Princess by @persephoneggsy - G, Hartwin

Harry Hart, a.k.a. Arthur, finds himself competing with a seven-year-old for Eggsy’s (a.k.a. Guinevere’s) affections. And then he receives help from the last place he expected.

That fic is just bloody adorable okay? Read this. You won’t regret it.

Out of Left Field by VillaKulla - M, Hartwin, Roxlin

“Now there was just one more thing,” Merlin said, addressing the sweaty, bedraggled, footballers clustered around him. “There’s been a change of ref.”

Eggsy and the rest of the UK Kingsmen looked at their coach expectantly and he raised his eyebrows.

“Harry Hart.”

Look, I don’t care about sport. And yet I devoured that story because it’s so much more than this and the sport in it just make it all more rich.

Not Good, Doesn’t Mean Bad by @anarchycox - M, Harroxy

Harry and Roxy have broken up, but now a mission has them playing a happy couple. It is very easy to pretend to be in love, when you never stopped.

While I completely adore the Knitter Eggsy Verse and everyone should go read it NOW, I decided to rec this Harroxy fic instead because DAMN we need more Harroxy and this one is just so good! Harry is an idiot, but he’s lucky Roxy is more than ready to think for him.

Fluff Month Day 24 - "Wrong Number"

Pairing/Characters: Marinette & Adrien
Set before Adrien’s first day of school. (Aka umbrella scene)

Beep beep!

Marinette groaned, rolling over in her loft to blindly pat around for her phone. She must have fallen asleep with it in her hand last night because the beeping had come from right next to her ear.

“Ugh,” Marinette mumbled as her hand finally grasped her phone. She raised it up in front of her face, and squinted at the bright screen.


Marinette raised an eyebrow. Someone must have the wrong number.

She unlocked her phone with the password, and pressed on her messaging app. It opened to the first screen with all her messages, and she quickly tapped on the newest one from ‘unknown’.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Hey! Are we still having that photoshoot in the park today?

Marinette tilted her head, squinting at the message. Photoshoot? Whoever this was DEFINITELY had the wrong number. Marinette was no model, and was generally awful in front of cameras. Not to mention that she was kind of a klutz.

Marinette bit her lip, hesitating, before typing back.

MARINETTE: I’m sorry but I think you’ve got the wrong number. I know nothing about photoshoots besides the fact that I’ve never had one.

Shoot, that was definitely too much of a response. Marinette groaned and dropped her phone down onto her mattress. It was too early for this. Hopefully whoever this person was wouldn’t respond.

Marinette’s hope was crushed a second later when her phone went off again.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Oh I’m so sorry. That was meant for my boss. I hope I didn’t wake you; it’s kinda early.

MARINETTE: it’s okay! Don’t worry about it.

Marinette hit send before exhaling in relief. At least that text was short, and she doubted that the unknown number would continue to text her now.

She locked her phone, sitting up in her bed and rubbing her eyes. It was only five a.m., but she was supposed to be up in thirty minutes anyway to help her parents set up the bakery for the morning customers. It wasn’t really worth going back to sleep now, so Marinette groggily crawled to her loft bed’s ladder and swung her feet down, carrying her phone with her.

It wasn’t like she completely detested talking to people, it was just people she didn’t know and couldn’t even see face to face that made Marinette nervous.


“Seriously?” Marinette muttered to herself, climbing down the ladder and walking over to her desk to flip on a lamp.

She looked down at her phone as her lamp lit up, covering her room in a soft pink glow.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Okay, sorry again.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but are you by any chance good at algebra? I’m desperate.

Marinette hesitated a second before shrugging and typing her response.

MARINETTE: Kind of. I just started this year.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Me too. Maybe we go to the same school?

Warning bells started going off in Marinette’s head, and she carefully typed her response this time.


UNKNOWN NUMBER: Sorry, I guess that was kind of a creepy question from someone you don’t know… Seriously I won’t text you if you don’t want me too. Sorry.

Marinette found herself smiling softly as she read the message. Whoever this was didn’t seem like a bad person. She typed and sent her next response before she could second guess herself.

MARINETTE: No it’s okay! But um, I’d feel better if I didn’t tell you my school.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: I totally understand. Sorry again…AGAIN. xD


Feeling a surge of courage take over her, Marinette typed again.

MARINETTE: So…do you have a name or would you rather not tell me that? Cool either way.


MARINETTE: Marinette

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Well, it was nice meeting you Marinette.

MARINETTE: It was nice to meet you too, Adrien. You gave me a story to tell my best friend later.


MARINETTE: Don’t you have algebra to do? xD

Marinette chuckled as she quickly sent off a text to Alya, telling her about the unknown number, Adrien, was texting her.

MARINETTE (to Alya): So some unknown number texted me. Said his name is Adrien.

ALYA: Girl it’s too early.

ALYA: Is he cute?

Marinette giggled, walking over to her desk chair and plopping down into it. She knew Alya would get curious; she was a reporter, after all.

MARINETTE (to Alya): Idk but does it really matter?

ALYA: It always matters.

Marinette sighed and began to spin around in her desk chair.

MARINETTE: He accidentally texted me instead of his boss this morning. But then he asked me about Algebra. Do you think that means he’s older or my age or…??

ALYA: Probably our age. Fifteen year olds can have jobs, you know. YOU have one.

MARINETTE: But that’s only because mine is a family business.

ALYA: potaeto potahto


Her phone dinged again, and Marinette switched to her chat with Adrien.

ADRIEN: I do have algebra, but if I transfer to school soon I might not have to do this lesson. I’m homeschooled currently, but I’m trying to get my dad to let me transfer to public school.

MARINETTE: Oh that’s cool! Is being homeschooled fun?

Marinette set down her phone and began changing, slipping on her ballet flats and quickly running a brush through her hair before slipping through her trap door down the stairs to the kitchen. She slid her phone in her pocket as she threw on an apron and continued down another floor to the bakery. Her parents were already awake, as she expected them to be.

“Marinette? You’re up early,” her father exclaimed as she entered the kitchen.

“Yeah, uh, something woke me up so I figured I’d just start my day a little early today,” Marinette answered, grinning nervously.

Her father didn’t seem to notice, though. Instead he turned back to the bread he was currently kneading, and tossed Marinette some plastic gloves.

“Go set up the display cases. There should be a few trays of different pastries out there for you already,” he explained.

Marinette dutifully obeyed, turning and marching out of the kitchen and into the main bakery. The trays of pastries were easy to spot, piled high and sitting on top of the counter. Marinette quickly began organizing them, getting halfway through before her phone went off in her pocket.

ADRIEN: I guess. I just wish I had more friends.

Marinette stared at the message a second before replying.

MARINETTE: Oh. Well, you’ve got me? If some random girl over the phone counts.

ADRIEN: Haha, yeah I guess so. Thanks Marinette, you’re really nice.

He sent this one with a photo, and Marinette gaped for a second as a face with blonde hair and absolutely stunning green eyes smiled back at her. It looked like he was in a car. His hair was styled, but also somehow looked natural. And oh my gosh he had freckles, just barely visible on his cheeks.

Marinette smiled and locked her phone, leaving it out on the counter as she began sorting again. Her insides felt warm, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the bakery warmth or from the texts she had just received.

MARINETTE (to Alya): He’s cute.


Originally posted by lovinthesoo

Rated: Fluff with a bit of Angst

Pairing: KyungsooxReader

Summary: Based off this request;  May I request a fluff/smut Mafia!Au Do Kyungsoo scenario? Like, he known as tough boss but when he is around his wife, it turns out he is a cutiepie?

(A/N): I said I’ll only take NCT request but since this was my first request I made an exception. I don’t know if this is what you had in mind anon and maybe this is shorter than you expected. I hope you like it though. Do let me know.

Kyungsoo stared out the window at the ocean below deep in thought. He heard Kai attempt to speak again but giving up. Kyungsoo finally lost his patience and turned to him.

“I know.” He saw the way the blood drained from his face and resisted the urge to smile.

“Kyu-” He stopped when Kyungsoo turned his full attention to him, “Boss there was nothing I could do to stop it. Honestly, I didn’t want to, the bastard killed Chanyeol’s girlfriend in front of him. He loved her, I’m glad he got his rev-”

“It’s okay,” Kyungsoo said with the same stoic voice his boys were used to hearing.

“Boss I swe-” Kai’s voice shook as his nerves caught up.

“I said it’s okay.” Kyungsoo said a little louder and that shut Kai up but also silenced everyone. Kyungsoo sighed at the unwanted attention.

“I understand. I’m not mad. I punished him because he acted recklessly and handled it like a novice. I’m not mad so calm down. I’m tired and this was a long and seemingly useless trip. So let me have my rest.

The rest of the flight was silent.

While staring out the window of the car he was in he couldn’t contain the smile on his face. He suddenly commanded the car to stop and Xiumin turned to him with a confused expression.

“Drop my luggage off at home.” He said quickly and stepped out of the car without looking at Xiumin, embarrassed he’d see his silly smile. He walked a block and took a turn looking at the florist’s shop in front of him, his face practically hurting now but neither could he curb his smile nor did he want to.

He pushed through the door, the bell on top of it making a small sound he’d come to adore.

“A moment please.” A voice said from behind the store and Kyungsoo’s heart started pounded like a teenager with a crush.

“How can I hel-” She stopped when she looked at his face, her features immediately hardening.

“A dozen roses for the love of my life please.” He said shyly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“We don’t sell roses, sir.” She said with a frown and turned to go behind the counter.

“There is a bunch right beside me,” He turned to a large stock of red roses beside him, “Please they’re for my wife. She might be mad at me and I want to apologise.” He turned to her expectantly. She didn’t look up from whatever she was writing.

“Those have been bought already, plus we don’t sell to husbands who leave for a week and only inform their wives with a text.” Kyungsoo sighed and picked up a rose from the bunch beside him and walked up to the counter.

“I’m sorry, they suddenly threw this trip on me. I didn’t even have time to come home and pack.” He pouted but she still wasn’t looking at him. He raised the rose in his hand and suddenly winced as a thorn pierced through his finger.

She looked up immediately, looking down at his finger with a worried face.

“I haven’t cleaned these roses yet Kyungsoo why can’t you be more careful?” She took his hand in her softer hands, delicately caressing the area around the small drop of blood.

“It’s fine, it’s small.” I’ve had much worse, he wanted to say.“Shut up.” She said putting his finger in her mouth gently. Kyungsoo’s face suddenly went red and his stomach turned. She raised her eyes to look at his face and instinctively he bit down on his lower lip. She released his finger and rolled her eyes.“You’re disgusting.” She hit his arm. He leant down on the counter and placed his face on his hands, “You love me though.” He said with a teasing voice.“Regretfully.” She sighed. He grinned at her and stood up straight, walking up behind the counter and hugging her from behind.“Let me go Kyungsoo I’m very angry.” She wriggled in his embrace.“I can’t sorry, you agreed to bone crushing back hugs when you married me.” He lilted swinging her around gently and placing gentle kisses on her neck.“Kyungsoo anyone can walk in what are you doing! Let me go!” She chastised, hitting his arm playfully.“I couldn’t let go if I tried baby, I’d fall apart without you.” Even with how sincere his voice sounded Kyungsoo felt like he couldn’t really express how much he meant what he said. He just hugged her tighter hoping she’d understand anyway, he felt like she did.The door chimed again making them both look up, and she pushed Kyungsoo’s hands off. He was so shocked staring at the figure walk in that he didn’t realise.“Chanyeol.” Her voice was weak. But he was only staring at the man standing behind her.“Your usual right? I’ll get it for you just wait here a bit.” She smiled at him sympathetically and walked back into the back of the store.“Boss I-” Chanyeol whispered looking terrified.“My name is Kyungsoo.” He said with a dangerously calm voice. Chanyeol gulped.“I come here to pick up flowers every week.” Chanyeol forced a smile. Kyungsoo only smiled back.She soon came back out with a bunch of white and pink carnations. “Here you go.” She smiled. He produced a bill but she shook her head.“It’s my gift to her.” She smiled brightly and he responded with a grateful one.After he left she sighed loudly, going to hug Kyungsoo.“He comes here every week. He lost his girlfriend and goes to her grave every week with her favourite flowers.” She tightened the hug.“It’s so sad Kyungsoo. I can’t even imagine my life without you.” His heart stopped at the words. He wanted to tell her, now would be a good opportunity anyway. But his hands shook in fear. What if she ran away? What if she stayed? Would he be able to live without her or live knowing he was the reason she was hurt, or worse.“I love you so much.” His voice trembled and he breathed in to calm his nerves, holding her much tighter so she couldn’t turn to look at him in his moment of weakness. 

Someday. He thought to himself, ‘Someday I’ll be brave enough to let you see the monster you fell in love with.’

The One That Got Away [Chapter One]

Originally posted by chaisoo

Series Request from the amazing @jinbumg7 !!! Hope you enjoy, dearest! I tweaked it just a tiny, tiny bit, hope you don’t mind :)

Series Genre: Angst/Fluff/Smut

Warnings: None

You awoke to the sound of your phone vibrating on your nightstand. You groaned sleepily, the sun was just barely up. Who could be calling this early? Didn’t they know you needed your sleep?

“Hello?” you grumbled.

“Happy anniversary!!!” You heard an excited Jaebum yell from the other end.

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Unconditional (Underfell shortfic)

This was inspired by @maxladcomics and their amazing Undertale AU comics!! (so far Drink is my fav; the newest update is awesome!!!)

“WHERE DID THAT PATHETIC LAZYBONES GO TO THIS TIME?” the tall, red and black, seemingly pissed off skeleton known as Edge said to himself. He was looking for his brother; the short, red-eyed skeleton known as Red. Edge had looked just about anywhere he thought he’d find his lazy brother, but to no avail. When he’d asked the other skeletons, they all told him his brother was on the couch with Tale Pap. When Edge looked, there he was; his gold-toothed brother on the couch, talking to the classic Papyrus like the others had said. In all honestly, Edge did feel kind of dumb, but they weren’t there when he’d looked the first time, so it wasn’t really his fault. He could hear that the two inside were having a conversation; and thinking it would be funny, Edge decided to stand by an open window to listen to it.

“so this dude walks into a bar..” Red started a joke. “OH NO, NOT ONE OF THESE JOKES.” Classic Pap interrupted him. “no no, this one’s good!” Red exclaimed. “…OH ALRIGHT.” Classic Paps responded. “ok, so, this dude walks into a bar with a slab of cement under his arm. he walks up and says to the bartender ‘i’d like a drink, and one for the road!’“ Red finished his joke, smiling when his bro’s classic version actually laughed a bit. “OKAY, THAT WAS ACTUALLY KIND OF FUNNY.” the classic admitted. Red laughed. “boss would kill me for making a joke like that.” he said. Classic Pap’s smile faded as a silence emerged between the two.

“WOULD HE REALLY?” Classic Pap asked, a saddened expression on his face. Red recognized the worry in his voice.

“no, no, ‘course not!” he assured him. “i mean, boss gives me a lot of shit, but he would never kill me.” he said.

Another silence emerged. Once again it was broken by Classic Pap.

“WHY DOES HE TREAT YOU THAT WAY?” he asked. “i dunno.” Red responded. “he used to be a lot like you when he was younger. then after he became co-captain of the royal guard, his personality completely changed.” he continued. “i ain’t gonna lie, i do miss the old boss.” he finished. “WHY DON’T YOU TELL HIM HOW YOU FEEL?” Classic Pap asked him. “he doesn’t listen.” Red responded.

“but…” Red said suddenly.

“BUT WHAT?” Classic Pap asked.

“…despite everything he’s done…everything he said…..despite the fact that he changed and that he may hate me….”

Both Papyruses listened closely.

“despite all of that, he’s my brother, and I still love him.” Red said.

Classic Pap smiled. Edge, on the other hand, was shocked.

Red was right about him always giving him shit and that he changed….

..but the one thing he was wrong about was Edge hating him.

Edge only wanted to make his brother stronger. He really did care for him. Upon hearing those words, Edge actually teared up. Never had he ever heard his brother say anything like that.

Edge walked away from the window before they could hear him cry. He sat on the front steps and cried silently for a bit before Red came out.

“hey boss.”

Edge sighed.


“i heard you walk away from the window.”








“of course, bro.”

Red pulled his little brother into a hug.

“if there’s something you should know, it’s that brotherly love is unconditional. no matter what universe.”

Edge sniffled and laughed a little.


Professor Winchester (Dean Winchester x Reader AU) Chap. 8

Professor Winchester Masterlist

Word Count: 2,270

Professor!Dean Winchester x Reader AU

Warnings: Language, mentions of drug use, angst, the tiniest amount of fluff 

*gif not mine, found off google*

Your mind begins to race as you take in the scene in front of you, panic overcoming your mind. Mr. Shurley is still standing there, hand in hand with who you presume to be his boyfriend or husband, a confused (and shocked) expression on his face.

“Dean Winchester?” Mr. Shurley says slowly. “I thought I recognized your car! You’re the last person I expected to see here tonight. How are you doing?”

Dean looks over at you, panic obvious in his eyes. You shake your head at him as if to say that you have no ideas. This is it- you’re going to get kicked out of university because even when you’re cities away from people who know the two of you, fate has a twisted sense of humor.

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You Won’t Like This: But I Hope You Hear Me

[You won’t like this.]

I hardly ever meet people who can apologize without excuses, or who can handle rebuke with a level head, or who don’t immediately lash out and get defensive when they’re corrected. I only know this because I’m that guy, too.

We do everything possible to avoid the consequences of our actions, to hold on to some tiny frayed rope of self-righteousness, to desperately grab for some centimeter of posture in a tug-of-war. We run to “What-about-you?” as if that cancels out the hurt we’ve caused. Such a sloppy mirror-defense uses someone else’s “tone” or past grievance to wiggle out of being wrong, like some kind of insane free-styling Walter White to proclaim up is left and purple is sky. Every suggestion is shot down by a sniper’s rocket launcher in a walled-up tower of self-pity, without considering the other point of view, the other human being, even for a fraction of a second.

All that energy could be used to hold up the mirror to yourself, to own your part of the problem. But I never see that anymore. I only see the irresponsibility of regurgitating excuses, a rehearsal of Sisyphus in an isolated hell. I only see the comfort zone of yes-men, never stretched or challenged, choking in a bizarre backwards world of fawning and flattery to protect a precious egg-shell ego.

If you think I’m talking about your neighbor or your parents or your boss or that church down the street, I’m not. I’m talking about you. About me. That’s part of the problem. No one wants to think, “I’m part of the problem.” I’m talking directly to you.

I’m just jaded. In the last month alone, I’ve seen even the best kinds of people respond to criticism by throwing f-bombs, fake-crying their way out, and shifting blame to a billion other people, no matter how gentle I am, no matter how soft or loving or coddling. In fact, it appears that grace is hijacked as a permission slip, or a loophole to play dumb, when grace was meant to be a surgical, sculpting love that has to say everything: that must stop you from driving off the cliff at all costs.

Of course, you have a right to defend yourself. Yes, sometimes it’s really not your fault. No, not every rebuke is right, and it can be abused: but if it’s coming from someone who cares, or from someone you decided to hurt, then it’s worth exploring before you throw it out with the rest of your logic and empathy. To at least find where you could’ve handled it differently.

And half an apology is worse than no apology. “I’m sorry that I hurt you, but—” is a squirmy, selfish counterattack to retain the flag of your fortress. You don’t get to say, “I didn’t mean to.” That’s not the same as saying, “I’m wrong and I’m sorry,” with no buts, no scrambling for your self-justifying, pre-programmed semantics.

The sad thing is, the wrong that we each do was not done in a day. It came by a series of small rationalizations, the exact ones we use when people try to stretch our perspective, and the more we reinforce our pride, the less likely we are to grow and to truly know who we are. Reality will dim until we’re out of touch and alone.

I’m not an alarmist, but I’m convinced this is why our culture is often seen as going down the toilet. No one is willing to examine their own motives and see where they might improve. No one is going after mentors, after elders, after the truth. We’d rather drown in our blind spots than breathe in the light.

Total honesty with yourself is terrifying, and it will threaten your safe little shrink-wrapped kingdom. But it’s just as agonizing as it is liberating. It will set you free. It will make you see. It takes courage to get there: and no, not everyone will step out of the slumber of status quo into awakening. We live in a generation of pampered cowards who are allergic to what’s real. 

I told you: you won’t like this. And if you’re mad by now, then it might already be too late for you. Unless, by such daring courage, you are mad at yourself.

So here’s a note to myself. I need this first before anyone else.

Apologize quickly. Make amends. Do better next time. Being wrong ain’t the end of the world. You can’t get it right every time. Don’t say, “Well-what-about-you?” until you first ask, “Well-what-about-me?”

And thank God for people who will speak up with a shaking voice, with tears in their eyes, with full passion for your wholeness.

They won’t say the truth perfectly, and never the way that you’d like to hear. But if you have a friend like that, consider yourself blessed. They’re going all the way on love. They respect you enough that they think you’ll hear them, and they’re risking comfort to say, “You’re better than this.”


Yongguk - Dangerously Innocent ♥ [Part 9]

Originally posted by yonggukology

Member: B.A.P’s Bang Yongguk

Pairing: MafiaLeader!Yongguk &  You

Genre: Writing this made me sad.

Warnings: Swearing, Blood, Shooting and other Mafia stuff.

Words: 1,775

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10,      Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Epilogue.

Over the next three months you spend considerably less time with Yongguk. After about 1.5 weeks your bruises have faded enough for you to be able to cover them up with make up so you can actually leave the mansion and go to work. When you arrived there your boss called you in and immediately noticed your unusually heavy makeup. “Y/N is everything okay?” You were so close to breaking down and telling her everything. At that point you hadn’t seen Yongguk in 3 days and the only person you actually could speak to other than him was Himchan. “Yeah I’m fine” You responded instead but it was obvious to you that she wasn’t buying it. “Please come and talk to me if something is wrong. To be honest – and I know that it is none of my business – but while you boyfriend really seems nice, he is also quite intimidating. Please be careful and know that I always have a place for you to stay at.” She explained and you felt tears sting in your eyes.  Most of your friend moved away to find new, better jobs and they left your behind. You struggled to become friends with you colleagues since they preferred to go out to drink and party on a Friday night while you usually just wanted to curl up in bed and read a book, maybe check out tumblr or watch some YouTube videos.  Knowing that she would be behind you made you feel safer. “Thank you. I will remember.”

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Random WIPS!

A short collection of the many works in progress that I currently have! 

The Dragon King

“The Dragon King Festival is upon us,” Lucy says suddenly, gazing out the window, lips twisted into a worried frown, “and it would seem that you have a new challenger, Igneel Dragneel.” Her golden eyes lock with his, Igneel staring back at her, his expression grim and weary. At Lucy’s side, Natsu snarls, baring his fangs as he glares at the wall. Smoke billows from his nose, green eyes narrowed into slits, and Lucy presses her hand to his shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze. He glances at her, fingers twitching at his sides, but she doesn’t turn away from Igneel. “How much are you willing to risk?” she asks him, more curious than accusing.

Igneel wets his lips, avoiding her sharp gaze. “Everything,” he whispers.


Natsu sighs through his nose, teeth pulling at the ring in his lip absentmindedly as he focuses on the empty road in front of him, squinting through the darkness broken only be the headlights of his car. It’s a bit unnerving, if he really thinks about it. It’s too dark—too quiet. He hasn’t seen any other cars for miles and miles—not since he headed North out of Hargeon, but that was nearly six hours ago. He’s somewhere near a little town called Magnolia at this point. Rather, he should be. He hasn’t passed a town for nearly two hours now, and Magnolia isn’t showing up on his GPS.

He glances up, checking to make sure he hasn’t accidentally taken a wrong turn at some point during the night, but if he has the GPS has already recalculated his route. His eyes narrow as he rips his gaze from the dim screen, lips curving into a frown. According to the man he met at the port, he should have passed through Magnolia at least a half-hour ago, but he hasn’t seen so much as a road sign for the town for at least an hour. And that was fifty miles ago, if his odometer is right.

Untitled #1

“Our flight got delayed,” Lucy continues stubbornly, almost as if she’s speaking to herself. Natsu watches as she runs a frustrated hand though her hair, teeth pulling at her lower lip. “We’re still in Vegas. Loke gave his cell phone to a random homeless guy and he and Gray are missing. Gajeel’s hung-over and still asleep. We’re really sorry that we can’t make it. There. One fool-proof cover story!”

Natsu shakes his head. “Do you really think that’ll work on Erza?” He watches as  Lucy continues to pace, worrying her lip to the point he’s afraid it might bleed. “Besides, she’ll ask about Jellal, and then what?”

“She’s going to kill me.”

Untitled #2

“You forget your place,” Lucy hisses, rounding on Toma with a snarl. The King takes a startled step backwards, eyes going wide as he stares at his royal magician. “I won you that throne,” she reminds him with a smile that’s all venom and fangs, “and I can just as easily take it away.” Her hands ball into fists, flames wicking at her skin.

He swallows, back straightening, but she can see the nervous flicker in his eyes, his gaze darting to the magic swirling across her skin. “Is that a threat?” he asks lowly, glaring right back at her. Behind him, Hisui stares, wide-eyed, and Arcadios reaches for his sword, a sign that she’s taking things too far.

Snorting, Lucy turns her back on them, lips curling into a snarl. Her heels click across the marble floor, red dress swirling around her ankles, gold shimmering in the light. “Only if it needs to be,” Lucy tells him, just loud enough for them to hear her.

Spriggan (treasure hunter au)

Lucy twists on her heel, glaring at the obnoxious man trailing behind her. “Look,” she snaps, crossing her arms over her chest with a snarl, “if you’re going to stalk me you might want to be a little more discreet about it.” Her foot taps against the ground, unamused, but Natsu only grins back at her, quirking a brow.

“Love,” he calls, crossing the short distance between them in a few easy strides, his chin dipping as he leans into her, breath puffing against her ear, “if I was stalking you, you wouldn’t know a damn thing.” She shivers, Natsu’s breath warm against her throat.

Edelweiss (sky pirate au)

“They say,” Lucy whispers, Natsu caging her against the wall of vines, his fingers curling through her hair, one hand settling on her bare back, “that you’re going to break my heart.” She inhales sharply as he noses her throat, fingers splayed across her spine, his breath fanning across her collarbone.

Natsu grins against her, rough lips dragging up her throat as he settles by her ear. “Not on purpose,” he promises, cradling her to his chest. He runs his fingers through her hair, leaning back to meet her eyes, his gaze soft as he stares down at her.

Lucy laughs. “That’s very reassuring, Captain.”

Untitled #3 (beauty and the beast au)

“Do you think someone could learn to love a monster, Lucy?” he asks her, fiery gaze cool as he glances at her. His eyes flick between green and gold, his horns towering over his head, shadow monstrous against the wall. The demon flexes his fingers in the darkness, claws glinting in the firelight as he stares at her, head cocked to the right in thought, gaze expectant. His tongue flicks over his lips, revealing his fangs to her.

Lucy stares, lips pressed into a thin line. “No,” she finally decides, closing her book and placing it on the table. His eyes follow her as she stands, no hesitation in her steps as she comes to stand before him, head tilted up to meet his eyes, unflinching. “Not real monsters,” she tells him, Natsu’s eyes widening slightly. “No one can love a real monster, only the mask they wear.”

Untitled #4 (stripper/fashion designer au)

“I’m sorry, Ms. Aquarius,” Lucy responds nervously, eyes wide as she stares at her boss. “I must have heard you wrong, can you please repeat that?” Her voice quivers as she speaks, more so because of her raging boss than what she’s been tasked to do. Though, Lucy is fairly certain she might faint if she’s being told to do what she thinks she’s being told to do. It’s a wonder she hasn’t passed out already.

Aquarius sighs, glaring at her intern ferociously, clearly less than pleased with the conversation. “I said,” she hisses, “that I’m including your designs in the spring show.” Lucy nods, understanding that part. Aquarius watches her carefully, fingers tapping against her desk as she tosses her long, blue hair over her shoulder. “And I’m tasking you with creating a more… risqué collection.”

Yeah, Lucy was afraid she’d say that.

Zugzwang (detective/CI AU)

“Zugzwang,” Lucy says suddenly, rolling the knight between her fingers. She peeks up at his through her lashes, read lips twisting into a frown as she tosses one leg over the other. Finally, she moves, knocking aside his bishop and claiming it for herself.

Natsu frowns back at her, not understanding. “I don’t know what that means,” he murmurs back, glancing between her and the board. She’s winning, she has been since the beginning and she’s only been toying with him for the last few minutes, dancing around his pieces to keep him in the game.

She grins back at him, perfect teeth glinting at him behind her teeth. “It’s a chess term,” she explains, humming as he moves a pawn, brows narrowed in thought. “German,” she explains. “Compulsion to move.” Natsu stills, unsure how to respond, and Lucy only glances up at him, head tilted to the side curiously as she claims the pawn as well. “It’s your move detective,” she says lightly, though he knows she isn’t talking about their game, “and you do have to make a move.”

Peter Parker x Reader

Prompt: hiya!! could you do a Peter Parker imagine where the reader’s sister is getting married and she needs a date so she takes Peter and it’s just super duper fluffy and all?? thank you!!

Word Count: 1735

Warnings: none

A/N: I wrote this for a gender neutral reader- you can view it as a female, a male, neither or both. Enjoy!

Originally posted by marvelheroes

It was a wonderful spring day- the birds were chirping, trees were awakening, flowers were beginning to bloom. All was peaceful in the beautiful corner of the world known, to a select few, as your home town. It is from there that a particular phone call flew over buildings, parks and houses, only to reach your place- in a matter of seconds! An everyday example of the 21st century at its finest.

You picked the phone up and had to listen to a five minute rant before the point got addressed. Of course, after that it seemed only common sense to spend quite a while excitedly talking with your sister over the news. A good half an hour later, you got off the phone and lied down on the couch, mentally replaying the last thirty minutes.

Your sister was getting married with her few years’ time boyfriend and she asked you to be her person. You smiled, remembering a conversation you’ve had a few years prior. You had jokingly told her that horrible consequences were to follow if she’d pick anybody else as a bridesmaid. Of course, at that time it had been long decided that she was going to be your bridesmaid and you were going to be hers-if you were ever going to get married.

As soon as you end the period of contemplation in the favor of doing something productive, a thought flashes through your mind. If you were going to the wedding, you were going to need a date. Of course you could always just go stag, but your parents would go berserk over it. The matter of their children having someone to share the mundane aspects of everyday life with was important to them, and with good reason.

However, there wasn’t anybody you were dating at the time- and no past exes you were getting along with you could bring. Rebecca and John were the only decent human beings that didn’t start acting like beasts after you parted ways, but your parents were aware of your relationship status regarding the two.

Your mind immediately flied to what was simultaneously the best and the worst decision at that time: Peter Parker, whose name was often associated with many titles. Spider Man, Complete And Utter Dork- but most importantly, the current object of your affections. As you were running the pro and con list over in your mind, you realized you were going to do it either way, all consequences damned.

Deciding it’d be best not to waste any time beating around the bush, you pick up your phone and text your longtime friend.

‘Hi dude, what’s up?’ You fire off the ice breaker.

Haha, not much, hanging around the house, you?’ He texts back, not two minutes later.

‘Pretty much the same.

Hey, listen, my sister’s getting married and I wanted to ask for a huge favor. You up for it?’ You reply, hoping to everything you have it won’t be a bust.

Woah, really? That’s so cool, congratulations!

Of course, man, what do you need? If you need someone to cover up for you at work though, don’t count on me, things are getting real busy at night.’ He responds in a matter of seconds.

‘Nah, I’ll talk to boss, it’s only one day.

Can you take a day off, though? I’m in desperate need of a date- you know how my folks reacted the last time I went stag. Do help a sister out. :’)’

Ugh, damn. When is it?’ Your heart sinks for a moment, but you send him the info.

‘Three months from now.’

You’re in luck. That’s just when the crime percentage starts to decrease.’ Reading his reply, you let out an audible sigh.

‘So are you up for it?’ You text back, wanting to make sure.

Definitely. Count me in. Your sister’s pretty dope, too- can’t wait to see her again.

‘Lmao she is, isn’t she? You busy right now?’

Keep reading

When I was 8, an older boy from my school tricked me into getting under the fence to part of the school, and threatened to beat and rape me if I didn’t sneak into the school and let him in. This was 50 ft from my front door.

A guy in my highschool was so desperate to date my friend that he figured out where my sister lived because he knew I liked to go visit her after school, and he sat on her stairs so he could force me to befriend him. 

A male friend of mine once said “I’d have dated her but you got to her first” when discussing me to my then boyfriend. 

A man tried to follow me home from Wawa one night claiming it “wasn’t safe out for a girl my age." 

A man at Wawa once harassed me while I was picking up milk at 2am because I was in my pajamas and not "dolled up all pretty for him”. 

I have, on multiple occasions, had to duck inside buildings to lose the tail of a creepy man following me in the city. 

I had an elderly gentleman stare at me for an entire 20 minute septa ride while sitting right next to me, blocking me into my seat, and upon my getting up to disembark the trolley, pulled my headphone out and creepily whispered “thank you for sharing your beauty with me” while touching me. 

I’ve had my boss at the pizza place I worked at joke about how he could rape me during my shifts at work, and only backed off once he realized I had steel pointed knuckles and a knife onhand during every shift. 

I’ve had customers at said pizza shop wait until we closed and try to follow me to my car because they knew the only free parking nearby was blocks away in the dark unpopulated areas. 

I’ve had the guys from down the street from my old apartment try to follow me to my car and to my apartment because I wouldn’t respond to their catcalling. 

I’ve had people proposition me for sex on my way to interviews, midday in corporate Philadelphia. 

Don’t tell me “not all men”. Not one man, upon hearing these stories, has ever reaffirmed that whatever happened wasn’t my fault, never that the men who did it were in the wrong. 

I don’t care how much it hurts your feelings. Men everywhere make me and women and girls around me feel so unsafe they have to plan their outfits around whether it will make people blame them if something goes wrong. 

I live my life in fear. At least live five minutes of yours in guilt.

mint chocolate chip

i got bored and i liked this idea so i ran with it. longer than i intended.. could probably turn into something longer. eh (simons pov) 


simon has a very bad week, and baz makes the mistake of grabbing the last tub of simon’s favorite ice cream

words: 2.4 k

this was the last straw. the last, very short straw of a number of shitty straws i had received this week.

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Snowball Part 5!!!

Heyo. Again I’m gonna start this off by apologising for the lack of updates on this, I haven’t even been that busy, I’m just lazy like I have no excuse haha. Thanks to anyone still following this, I really do appreciate it and without messages and stuff this honestly wouldn’t have gone past the first chapter xx.

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4

Feyre had been working for a few weeks at Mor’s coffee shop now. She worked most days when Tamlin was home, and every day when he was out of town for business. Mor loved having Feyre around to laugh with and had even told her last week that her coffee making skills had considerably improved, but Mor would still politely refuse when Feyre offered to make her a coffee. 

It was long hours and the morning rush could be hectic at best, but Feyre enjoyed the challenge and it occupied her lonesome thoughts. When Tamlin was home he would disappear into his study for hours or be lost in his own thoughts when they decided to go out places for dinner. Feyre didn’t want to talk to him about his work though as she knew it would just worsen his mood, and he had made it very clear he hated talking about work with her. 

Feyre had walked in one morning to see Mor attempting to decorate their specials board with crude attempts at stick figures. Feyre hadn’t meant to laugh but it caught her by surprise.

“I know I’m not very artistic but you know it’s bad when even your stick men get laughed at.” Mor huffed.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed but … does one of them have two heads?”

Mor sighed, “No, it was supposed to be a Christmas hat.”

Hesitantly, Feyre reached for Mor’s chalk, “May I?”

Mor looked surprised but handed the chalk over. She left to keep setting up chairs and tables while Feyre drew. She had a number of paints and canvas’s at home but she hadn’t felt any desire to paint lately, but Feyre got lost in her own drawing and hadn’t even noticed Mor peering over her shoulder.

“Oh my god it looks fantastic!” Mor squealed, making Feyre jump.

Feyre looked it over once, it wasn’t amazing. Done with cheap chalk and in just a few minutes, but it passed for a Winter wonderland scene with snowflakes, reindeer, and people huddled around a fire holding cups of steaming coffee. From then on Mor always got Feyre to decorate the boards after she had written on them.

Mor would sometimes leave Feyre alone for a few hours when it was quiet so she could run some errands and the trust Mor had in her blew Feyre away. Even if she wasn’t always left by herself. Most days Mor’s friends frequented the store such as Amren, a small but wicked looking woman who awed Feyre but also made her want to avoid eye contact. Amren was nothing but friendly towards Feyre and would always leave her an especially big tip so Feyre made an effort to make small talk. Amren owned her own jewellery store where she made her own accessories and was an old friend of Mor and Rhysand’s family.

Rhys’s brutish looking friends, Cassian and Azriel, were also usually hanging around the shop. Their favourite table was hidden away in a dark corner where Azriel would all but vanish in the darkness, but since Feyre had started working, Cassian would drag Azriel to tables that were closer to the counter so they could talk. Despite their imposing looks, Feyre found both of them to be quite friendly towards her and it wasn’t long before she found herself smiling before they had even entered the shop as she could hear their booming voices approaching from halfway down the street. They ordered the same thing every day, just a black coffee for Azriel, no sugar, and Cassian always had the most expensive and extravagant, whipped cream topped coffee they served, complete with chocolate and caramel syrup. 

Rhys had so far kept his distance.

One morning after Lucien had dropped Feyre off for the day, Mor had been telling Feyre about an awful customer she had once had when the door swept open. Mor stopped mid sentence to beam at whoever had just entered. Feyre had her back to the door but she knew who it was was from the intensity of the gaze she felt was trained on her back.

“Well look who finally decided to come and check up on his shop.” Mor teased.

“You know I’ve been busy Mor. As I’m sure you’ve also been, training Feyre to make coffees that surpass even your own.” Rhysand purred.

Mor scoffed, “Who told you that?”


“Next time I’m locking him outside in the cold.” Mor laughed despite her icy tone. “Seriously though are you just passing through or staying for a bit?”

Rhys sighed, “I think I need to just sit down and clear my head. Wanna make me one of your famous coffees?”

“Coming right up!” Mor smiled.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Rhys said, before flashing me a grin and taking his seat.

“How tragic. Disowned by my own cousin.” Mor said shaking her head. “He likes a cappuccino with two sugars.”

Feyre worked at the machine alongside Mor as she made other orders but Feyre could feel that violet gaze fixed only on her.

“How come Rhys hasn’t been around? Cassian and Azriel are always here.” Feyre asked Mor quietly.

“I think he’s just been really busy lately. He gets restless when he’s stressed so I doubt he wants to hang around here all day.” Mor replied as she turned on the coffee grinder.

The loud machine drowned out most sounds making Feyre nearly having to yell for Mor to hear her.

“Is it work related? The stress I mean.”

“Sort of. He works also as a spokesperson for the Illyrian community, making sure no one treats them badly.”

Feyre hadn’t had much experience with these Illyrians as she had only recently moved to town to be with Tamlin.

“Have people treated them badly in the past?” Feyre ventured.

“Oh Feyre, I wish I could say people in this town weren’t discriminatory but the world just isn’t like that.”

“I’ve never heard of Illyrians.”

“Well you live with Tamlin right? He lives in the flashy part of town, the opposite end to the Illyrian people so you probably haven’t ever seen them.”

Feyre finished making Rhysand’s coffee and moved to bring it out to him when Mor added, “He’s fussy about his coffees, sometimes I have to remake them a few times before he’s satisfied so don’t feel bad if he doesn’t drink it.”

“If he complains we’ll see how much he likes hot coffee poured in his lap.” Feyre said before freezing. Mor had turned the coffee grinder off just as Feyre had started to respond allowing Rhys to hear every word.

Deciding to play it off, Feyre continued on her path to Rhys and set the coffee down before him, arching her eyebrow in a challenge.

Rhys grinned up at her before painstakingly slowly, lifting the cup towards his lips. Feyre watched in anticipation and nearly screamed when he suddenly placed the coffee back on the table.

“It’s a little hot. I think I’ll wait for it to cool. Thank you.” Rhys said while giving her a cocky grin.

Swallowing her annoyance, Feyre marched back behind the counter with a grimace. Mor only laughed, before handing Feyre some new orders.

A few coffees later and Feyre looked up as an empty cup was set on the counter. She looked up to see Rhys gazing at her thoughtfully.

“… Was there anything else I could help you with?” Feyre asked, suddenly remembering that for all his jokes, Rhys was technically her boss.

“You changed the coffee.” Rhys said without any hint of emotion on his face.

Mor, who had been out the back gathering more stock, suddenly reappeared and miserably failed at looking like she wasn’t eavesdropping.

“I tried a different blend. Mor’s been encouraging me to experiment.”

Feyre felt the back of her neck dampen with sweat as Rhys failed to respond, only staring at her mutely.

“Did you like it? I can make another if you didn’t. I’m sorry, I know you like it a particular way-” Feyre babbled before Rhys cut her off.

“It’s okay. I liked it. Could you make me another?” Rhys asked, almost shyly. “Please?” He added as an afterthought.

Feyre nodded unable to speak she was so relieved. Rhys moved back to his table while Mor swooped in on her.

“That was incredible, you even got him to use his manners! I didn’t even see you change up the recipe.” Mor gushed.

But Feyre had already begun making a new coffee and wasn’t really paying attention to Mor.

“He always asks about you.” Mor said quietly.

Feyre froze.

“Nothing weird, just asking how you’re going at work. If you seem happy.” Mor continued.

Feyre said nothing as she went to take out the next coffee to Rhys. He smiled again at her as she placed it down and this time drank from it immediately. Mor watched them from the counter, an odd look on her face.

Over the next few days Rhys would come into the store and ask Feyre to make him a coffee. Sometimes he stayed to chat with her or Mor, other times he would have to leave quickly. Cassian and Azriel asked to try the special coffee that Rhys kept having but neither of them seemed to like it. When Amren asked to try it, she all but spat it back in the cup with an apologetic look at Feyre afterwards, “Sorry, I guess everyone likes their coffee differently.”

Feyre never made Rhys’s coffee for anyone else from then on.

One morning, Rhys was sitting in his usual spot by the counter where he could talk, and more often, tease Feyre, when Mor rushed in.

“I’m sorry I’m late Feyre! Everything’s been okay?” She asked.

“It’s fine, everything’s been going good today except for that weird guy who keeps trying to talk to me.” Feyre laughed while motioning at Rhys.

Rhys just winked and said, “I can’t start my morning without a coffee and your sweet face anymore Feyre Darling.”

Feyre responded with her usual, “Prick”, before turning away to serve a customer.

“She seems to have warmed up to you.” Mor said breezing past Rhys.

When there was no longer any people to serve, Rhys joined Feyre and Mor at the counter. He was staring at the specials board which still showed part of Feyre’s Winter wonderland scene and now also had a drawing of a coffee with a Santa face dusted in the foam.

“Now I know you didn’t draw this Mor.”

“First, I’m offended you think I have no artistic skills. Second, I’m impressed with how well you know me. Feyre is our resident artist.”

“You’re very good, ever think about doing an arts degree?” Rhysand said to Feyre.

“I have… but I don’t really think it’s for me.”

“Why not? You clearly have the talent for it.”

“I already told you, I can’t.” Feyre said angrily.

She turned from him and went to clear some dirty tables. When she returned Mor and Rhys abruptly stopped their conversation.

“Well I’m going to go do a stock order, Feyre do you think you could update the specials board? Thanks!” Mor said chirpily before disappearing out back.

Fear seized Feyre as she wiped clean the board. Rhys hadn’t said anything since she’d finished cleaning and she didn’t appreciate the way his keen eyes watched her. Feyre held up the chalk just inches from the board but couldn’t bring herself to write anything.

“What’s wrong?” Rhys asked, concern tingeing his voice.

“Nothing. I just don’t feel like doing this right now.” Feyre was horrified to feel tears beginning to well up.

Now Rhys seemed really concerned. “Feyre?” He asked. “Are you okay? Talk to me.”

Feyre couldn’t even look at him she was so embarrassed. She fought with herself for what felt like hours. On one hand she wanted to tell Rhys about her biggest weakness. But on the other, she knew she could be mocked for it or even worse, lose her job over it, and Feyre did not want to stop seeing her friends.

She almost said nothing. Almost brushed it off with an excuse. But when she looked up at Rhys’s face, his eyes were so open and trusting. Nothing but understanding touched his gaze and Feyre knew he had already guessed as much.

“I can’t read.”

Rhys nodded as if he knew all along. “Does Tamlin know?”


“And he never thought to teach you? Or get someone else to?” Now there was anger laced in his words. It instantly made Feyre recoil.

“It’s not like that. I’ve never really had to learn. And it’s not like I’m completely stupid, I’ve memorised a few basic words.”

Rhys paused.

“I’ve upset you. I’m sorry, I don’t think you’re stupid at all.” Rhys quickly apologised.

There was an awkward silence before Feyre spoke again. “I had only just started school when my mother died. My father lost everything to his grief. I dropped out of school to help out around the house. I did paper rounds to get money for food.”

“Where is your family now?”

“A few towns over. When I met Tamlin he wanted me to move in with him almost immediately but I couldn’t leave my family alone. So Tamlin promised they’d be looked after if I went with him.”

“Is that why you’ve never applied to college?”

Feyre nodded.

Rhys pondered this. He started saying something before dropping it entirely. Taking a deep breath he tried a different tactic. “First, let me say that I think you’re incredible for putting your family over your own education. And while it makes no difference to me, and it doesn’t change who you are, but, if you’d like, I could teach you.”

Feyre was speechless. To her, providing and looking after her family had been second nature. No one, not even her father or sisters had ever really thanked her for it. And while it had never caused her regret, Feyre had always hated that small illiterate part of herself. She owned a phone but could barely use it. She had a job but only because it consisted of little reading. It was this that made her reach for Rhys’s hand to shake.


Rhys held her hand for just a little longer than was necessary but it didn’t feel odd to Feyre at all.

anonymous asked:

Hey, I love your blog!! How would the companions react to a sole who is always straight faced and serious and quiet so everyone assumes they're cool af but them one day, after they've been traveling together for a while its revealed somehow that Sole just doesn't speak English and has no idea what's going on 😂😂😂

Thank you so much, anon!

Cait: She just gives Sole the most dumbfounded look. “What the hell…? Sole, you’re not making any sense!”

Curie: “Oh, tu parles Français aussi?” She’d squeal, clasping her hands in hopes that Sole would respond in French. 

Danse: “Soldier…” He narrowed his eyes at Sole, leaning in a bit. “What’s going on?” He’s so confused.

Deacon: “Oh man, nice one boss!” He’d laugh, nodding in approval. “J’ai le corps d’un chien.” He’d say in full confidence, when in reality he too has no idea what he had just said.

Hancock: “So, you’re not the strong and silent type, eh?” He’d go silent momentarily, only to follow up with a few different ‘hellos’. “Hola, bonjour, ciao.” 

MacCready: “I don’t know what you’re saying, but if you’re saying something bad about me, I know a few insults of my own.” He’s honestly not sure what to do about this.

Nick: “Woah there, kid. I have no idea what you’re saying or what language you’re speaking.” He sighed, looking at them with an uncertain expression.

Piper: “Oh Blue, wow…” She stares at Sole completely wide eyed, arms crossed. She goes to speak again, but realizes it’s a fruitless effort.

Preston: Preston does the most logical thing and takes Sole to Codsworth in hopes of him understanding them. He was Sole’s Mr. Handy, he must understand them, right?

X6-88: Responds perfectly in whatever language Sole spoke. 


Translations: “Oh, you speak French, too?” and “I have the body of a dog.”