what about asks though

So, there’s this relatively new member of our team who’s a gossip fanatic, she’s always around chatting everyone up and then reporting the juicest news and hot details she’s given, which is a demeanour our main client is pretty bothered by, therefore she always makes sure to shut up and behave around them.

Two coworkers of mine, me, the Big Boss and our client were arranging and planning a few things, when she burst into the room, not noticing the BB and the Client, who were at that moment having coffe behind the door and she went “ooooh, you know what they say about Louis Tomlinson not actually being the father of his child? Looks like it’s true after all, even though it’s been ages!”

We didn’t have time to gesture to her, that my client appeared from behind the door all frowny and straight faced “yeah, the same ages it took you to dig this oh-so-shocking information up, with that quick, sharp rate of yours you’ll have to start working on the next campaign tomorrow morning if I want it out before 2036″.

2

infodumping about the ocean

The “Just the thought of Team Cap walking all over Tony makes me want to trash my room, I just want unashamed, biased, pro-Tony quality content, is that too much to ask??” inspired ficlet I’ve been holding back for a while:

Bitterness ahead, guys. Not Team Cap friendly. Nor is it particularly deep or rational. I just wanted to get a couple of thoughts out of my head. Basically Tony is done being the team’s sugar daddy, only it comes to light in a very roundabout way. 


“When are my arrows gonna be fixed anyways?” Clint grumbles, rubs a hand over his sore shoulder. The one that wouldn’t have gotten injured, had his shot hit the target it was supposed to. Which it should have, his aim had been fine. The problem were the arrows. Someone must have screwed up somewhere in the production because they weren’t perfectly balanced.

They’re sitting in the conference room at the (mostly) restored compound. Tony is tapping away on his StarkPad, not even bothering to look up. He must have felt the questioning glances and noticed the silence, but he still doesn’t react.

Steve resists the urge to roll his eyes. He doesn’t want to encourage the tension between them, things are bad enough as it is. If only Tony would put in some effort as well, instead of going out of his way to antagonise them, maybe they could make some actual progress.

“Yo, Stark!” Clint snaps, voice reaching that biting sharpness he reserves specially for the billionaire. “I’m talking to you!”

Tony shows no outward reaction, which is strange to see. Back when they first came back, he used to move at all times, sharp and erratic, never staying still. Steve shakes his head at their unnecessary power play.

Tony answers before he has the chance to reprimand them though. “How would I know?” he asks, a brief frown flittering across his face as he scribbles something down onto the tablet.

The outraged look on Clint’s face tells everyone present that this meeting won’t get back on track any time soon. It’s understandable, really. Clint has been forced to fight three battles with faulty equipment and frankly, the lack of concern Tony is showing for his team mates’ safety is nothing short of callous. Steve knows things haven’t been good between them but this is the first time he wonders if things could really be so bad, that Tony would hold necessary equipment back on purpose.

It’s a terrible thought, but try as he might, Steve isn’t able to shake it off.

At least the rising tension finally causes Tony to look up and meet Clint’s glare. He’s wearing sunglasses even though they’re inside, like he always does. Steve doesn’t like it. Makes it harder to read Tony, to tell what he’s really thinking. Absently, he admits that this is probably why Tony wears them so religiously.

“What do you mean ‘how would you know’?!” Clint snarls, enraged. “My arrows have been acting up for weeks and you still don’t know how to fix it?!”

Tony stares at Clint, the expression on his face unreadable. Then, after a long, long moment of heavy silence, the answer.

“I’m not fixing your equipment.”

For a moment, it’s deadly quiet, as Steve struggles to process the meaning of what Tony has just said.

“Tony,” Steve hastily inserts himself as soon as he finds his voice again, before Clint can throw himself across the room and deck him, “I know there are still some issues we all have to work through, but that’s not an excuse to-”

“Hold it right there, Rogers,” Tony interrupts. It’s never Cap, always Rogers these days. The pain the distinction causes still catches Steve by surprise more often than not. “I’m not sure where you get this from but I’m not your mechanic. I don’t work for you. So if Barton here has an issue with his weapons, he needs to take it up with the people in charge. Considering how often you remind me that it’s not me, you’d think you’d have figured that part out already.”

“But it’s not working!”

Tony sighs. The deep, heavy sort of sigh you usually expect from an exhausted parent after their insistent child asks, “Are we there yet?” for the 34th time. “Then take it up with the quartermaster. Or Agent Hudson. Or one of the techies. Seriously, Barton, you signed the Revision. Who’s responsible for what is right in there, section 12 to 17. Besides-” he pauses.

“What are you waiting for? Go on!” Clint demands between gritted teeth, hands curled into tight fists. Thankfully, he’s not throwing anything. Yet. “Don’t get shy with me now!”

Tony straightens in his seat. Steve inwardly sighs. That man has never been able to let a challenge go unanswered.

Besides,” Tony continues, voice still surprisingly even, “chances are they’re working just fine.”

“You think I can’t tell when my bow isn’t fucking working the way it should?” Clint bristles.

The words actually cause Tony to lower his sunglasses for a moment, just to make sure there is no doubt about how stupid he believes Clint to be. “I’m saying you’re operating with a standard bow, Barton. The fabric and the construction limit the performance quality. Something I’m sure an experienced archer like yourself has picked up on.”

And yes, things are definitely getting ugly. That level of glacial cold in Tony’s voice is rarely achieved, even now.

“The why the fuck did you build a subpar bow?”

Tony sighs again. “You’re missing the point. Seriously, I can not believe we’re even having this conversation. I did not build that bow, Barton.”

And that’s–that’s a surprise.

Tony’s gaze trails over them all, taking in their confused, shocked expressions. “Really?” he asks, exasperation dripping from every syllable. “Did any of you even read the Revision? The Avengers’ are an official unit. Their weapons and uniforms can’t be provided by a private party, especially not one who is part of the team. Have you ever heard the term conflict of interest?”

“What about Stark Industries?” Natasha asks. From the furrow in her brows though, Steve suspects she already knows the answer–and doesn’t like it one bit.

“I’m not sure if you noticed,” and now there’s no mistaking the mocking in Tony’s tone, “but SI doesn’t sell weapons anymore. It was kind of a big thing, couple of years back.”

“But- But yours are better!” Clint splutters. It sounds plaintive and weak, even in Steve’s ears, but at the same time he knows what Clint’s struggling to say. It’s not about getting your toys taken away. It’s about their safety and efficiency in the field. On bad days, it’s about the survival of their entire planet.

“I can’t believe you would risk the teams’ lives and safety like this because of a petty argument,” Steve says, unable to keep quiet any longer, nor bothering to hide the honest disappointment.

Tony, unimpressed as always, simply snorts. “You’re an official unit, but before that you’ve been working for SHIELD for years. Did you ever have the very best equipment mankind was capable of providing at the time? No,” he answers his own question in a breeze, “you didn’t. Why? Because you’re agents, soldiers. And sure, the government wants to protect us, wants to keep us alive and make sure our missions succeed. But they have limited funding, which means everyone has to deal with the best cost-efficient option available. If you’ve got the right connections to get something more, then lucky you, but that makes you an exception, not a rule.”

“You don’t need to explain real life to me!” Clint snaps aggravated.

“Then why do you feel entitled to something better?” That question, sharp and cutting, makes the archer still, his mouth open but with no retort forthcoming. Tony is blinking at him now, head tilted sideways in child-like curiosity.

“Of course, if I, as a private citizen, decided to build something that doesn’t violate any laws and give it to a friend as a gift, that would be something else, wouldn’t it?” Tony continues after a moment, voice softer now, but no less cutting. His eyes are fixated on Clint, sunglasses pushed back, eyes dark and unmoved. “The average update would take me what, a week or two? That’s a lot of time to invest into a single project, especially when the ultimate use is so limited. How many people can possibly profit from improved protective vest versus how many people improve from an exploding arrow is a really fascinating comparison to make.”

“So you see, Barton, even if I could improve your bow, there’s no logical reason why I should waste my time like this.”

“Tony!” Steve interrupts, scandalised. “Clint’s life depend on his aim! Our lives depend on it! How can you justify not providing him with the most basic necessities.”

Tony doesn’t even try and look abashed, instead he throws his head back and laughs. “This is how you want to play it, Rogers? Because I’m rich and a genius, I owe it to you to devote my time, attention and money to bettering your lives? What about the seven billion other people on this world? Don’t they deserve the same consideration, hm? What makes you so special that I should put your needs before anything else?”

Steve opens his mouth, but Tony doesn’t give him a chance to speak.

“I tell you what this is: this is you realising I’m no longer spoiling you rotten because you are in fact not my kids and I can cut you off whenever the fuck I want. And you don’t like it. Because guess what, I may be privileged, but so are you! You’re heroes, most of the time, as far as the world is concerned. You’ve been living off my money and resources on top of that. You’ve always gotten special treatment and you like that. You’re as far detached from the ‘ordinary man on the street’ as I am, you just don’t have the self-awareness to fucking notice!”

Tony sends them a sardonic smile that does in no way take the sting out of his words. “Don’t worry,” he says, “you’ll still be special. It’s just no longer my name footing that bill. Because we’re not friends. And as a business man, I’m not at all sorry to tell you that you simply aren’t worth investing into.”

And with that he stands, all blinding press smile, sweeps around dramatically, and strides purposefully out of the room. The automatic door closes noiselessly behind him, but he might have as well slammed it shut for all the difference it would’ve made.

It’s likely not a coincidence, that on their next mission Spiderman, Vision and Miss Marvel all showcase new, incredibly features and weapons that can’t have been created by anyone else. And it’s impossible to know for sure, what with the mask on, but Steve is one hundred per cent certain that Spiderman is smirking at them.

He is not wrong.


Let me know what you think? And please excuse any mistakes, I’ll re-read this tomorrow. Also this is the last post for today. I’m tiredtiredtired now and think I’ve spread enough bitterness for the day. And spammed your dashes with enough endless posts probably…oops.

anonymous asked:

Hi I'm sorry if this sounds rude but you mentioned your friends are giving up fic writing? And that you came close to.I notice writers get much fewer rebblogs than artists but I didn't know it's that bad. Who are you talking about and do you guys talk about this, like is there a chatroom for writers?

Hi anon! This isn’t rude at all, don’t worry! This is going to be a bit of a long answer, so bear with me :’)

I don’t know if I can mention names here, I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable, so I can’t really give you more details than I already have: I am friends with this person and they probably won’t be writing fanfics anymore.
I can tell you though that I’ve also spent most of the last couple of weeks wondering if there was still a point in posting my writing at all.

The thing is, writers barely get any feedback. Especially ones that aren’t insanely popular. We pour so much of ourselves into our writing, so it’s incredibly discouraging to barely get any comments, kudos, likes or reblogs.

In my personal experience, tumblr is an awful place for writers. I’ve got a decent-sized following on ao3 I think (though I don’t have much to compare to) and even there, with more than 100 people subscribed to me, I only tend to get around… 5 or 6 comments max per fic that are actually reviews (as in, comments with more content than “please update soon” or “this was nice”) - which is already more than I know many of my writer friends get.
On tumblr, I’m lucky if two or three people reblog my work, and that’s exactly the problem: Who’s going to see it if no one reblogs it? Likes are fine and of course I appreciate those, too, but in the bigger picture they’re meaningless.
Once a fic is done, it’s done. It’s out there then, and I can’t keep reblogging my own posts again and again in the hopes that someone will pay attention to them. I get one shot, maybe two if I reblog my fic again for people in other timezones, but that’s pretty much it. I’m not surprised that it’s gotten so frustrating that it makes people want to quit.

…as for your other question - I don’t know if there’s any larger chatroom or space for writers. I know some people have group chats, but it’s mostly a private thing, as far as I know? I’m really not a big name in this fandom so there might be a lot of stuff going on that I don’t know about.

As for me - I just message people a lot, with the tumblr feature, or on skype or snapchat if I know them better. I’m open to any and all conversations (most of mine with other writers started by me yelling at them about how much I love their work ^^), so if you want to talk to me please don’t hesitate to shoot me a message. That’s what they’re for, after all? My ask’s always open, and I don’t mind private messages either.

In any case - there’s quite a few people in my immediate vicinity that I’ve talked to and I consider friends - many of them are writers, some are artists, some do both, some do neither. I talk about this problem (of wanting to write, but barely receiving any feedback, of feeling like we’re wasting our time) to pretty much anyone who will listen, but it’s frustrating because I don’t have the influence to change anything. Of course I’ll try to keep my fellow writers motivated and try to change their minds about giving up, but there’s only so much I can do, and in the end it’s their decision. Most writers I’ve talked to really enjoy writing fanfics, and it takes quite a bit of disappointment to get you to the point where you want to just… stop. So… yes, it’s a big problem.

I’m going to wrap this up now, but… again, I cannot emphasize enough how important comments are to writers. I’ve talked to some people who’ve said they’re not sure if their comments will even make a difference, because they feel they haven’t got anything interesting to say - picture it this way. As a writer, I’m standing on a stage and presenting a thing, and in response, about twenty people give me polite nods (kudos, likes) and four actually start clapping. But there’s like two hundred people (hits) standing in this room, and I kind of feel stupid now.
All comments matter. At this point, they might save you your writers. Because with less and less feedback, there’s less and less incentive to actually post things.

I can’t say much for other fandoms because it’s been a while since I’ve written substantially for anything but Haikyuu, which is still a relatively active fandom? But I get the feeling that’s starting to wear off, too.

Enthusiasm shifts, and I get that. But if you still enjoy an author’s work, please, please, by all means leave them a comment. Otherwise it might be the last work you read from them.

Somebody in the Crownsguard or the Kingsglaive tries to pull a prank on Cor and replace his polished black heeled boots with bright red stiletto heels, only for Cor to walk in wearing them anyway. 

He literally doesn’t act any different, he’s not being jokey or embarrassed about it. Nor does he mention his shoes being gone, he goes about his day, he just does his job like normal. 

And that’s when his subordinates realize literally nothing fazes this man, you could’ve replaced his suit with Luna’s fucking Kingsglaive dress, he just does not give a fuck, he’s dead inside.

6

Komahina will never be ready to share their son. Saihara & Ouma will have to struggle a bit.

{I did get your other answer and i’ll answer to it too ! I’m sorry to everyone sending asks I’m slow since I have classes. I try to post at least one thing a week. I’ll be answering to everything don’t worry, I just lack time to do it faster haha.I’ll try to post a context for the a.u. this week end so it’ll be easier to ask things about it !

Please ask away I love drawing what you imagine/think about this a.u. No spoil though ! }
 

Chapter 6

║ch1║ ║ch2║ ║ch3║║ch4║║ch5║

Mystic Messenger High School AU

Word Count: 1,312

~Yep, that’s right. Another chapter. I told you I’d write more! Hm? Didn’t believe me? Well…I guess I don’t blame you. It’s been forever, after all. Haha. Anyway, I hope that you guys enjoy. I think from here on out I can go one of two ways. I can keep the ending how I originally planned…OR I can kinda experiment a bit….with something I’ve been testing recently. I haven’t quite decided yet. Regardless, stay tuned! I really hope you guys like this chapter^^ 


Your hands grasped the fabric of the hoodie as you smiled. Saeyoung took the seat in front of you, the moonlight reflecting off of his glasses.

“It’s a beautiful night,” you finally spoke up in an effort to break the silence.

“Ya,” he smiled momentarily before turning back to the sky, “these are some of my favorite nights. You can really see the stars.”

Maybe it was the alcohol in your system that had you feeling so bold, or the feeling of happiness flowing through you? You couldn’t remember the last time you had a night as fun as this. Being away from home, surrounded by people who all seemed to be having a good time, really filled you with a strange sense of warmth and comfort. And of course…being around people you had started to feel close to. People like Saeran…and Saeyoung…

“Do you like Astronomy?” you took another sip of your wine, not wanting to slow down despite that dizzy feeling.

“Mmhm,” he nodded, “always have. When we were younger…well, Saeran and I could never afford telescopes. So, we would use the rolls from paper towels and pretend that it helped us see closer. We’d look out of our bedroom window and try to identify the constellations.”

He seemed to look away with this sudden admission, was he blushing? It was hard to imagine him and Saeran as small children, peering out of their windows in hopes of a glimpse of something greater.

“So, you know a lot of constellations, then?” you asked.

“Of course,” he chuckled lightly.

He urged you to the side of the yacht, his hand lightly pressing at your back to guide you. For some reason your heart was racing at his touch. This was different than working with him at the ice cream shop. His long arm pointed up to a series of stars above you.

“See that? It’s Ursa Major,” he says proudly.

You’re extremely aware of how close he has gotten to you. For the rest of the night, despite the noise and uproar of the party behind you, you spend the majority of the evening quietly looking at the sky between Saeyoung’s refills of your glass. You just listen to him talk as he points out various things. It’s pretty obvious that he likes to show off his knowledge and this makes your smile beam for him. It reminded you of Saeran when he talked about art. They were both passionate in their own way. What a pair they made…Before you knew it, you were starting to teeter backwards on your heels.  

“Woah, there!” Saeyoung grabbed you to hold you steady, “maybe we should sit down?”

“I’m sorry, I guess I’ve had a little more than I anticipated,” you say as he helps you into your seat again, “hey! I wanted to ask you though…”

“Hm? What about?”

It felt like the right time of the night to bring it up. You clumsily set your glass down and looked at him as you spoke.

“Is Yoosung always so careless like that?” you asked.

“Says the girl who almost just fell on her ass, drunk,” he let out a deep laugh.

“I’m serious!” you tried to be mad but ended up laughing along with him, he was right…after all.

“For real, though…” he got more serious, “he’s been a little more reckless lately.”

You leaned in a bit…eager to hear more out of concern. Saeyoung let out a sigh, pushing up his glasses onto the bridge of his nose as he thought about what to say next.

“He was really close to his cousin and…she passed away not too long ago,” he continues, “Yoosung has been a bit of a mess ever since. Saeran and I take turns kinda watching over him. But, the old Yoosung would have never acted like he did tonight,” Saeyoung looked away with a hint of sadness in his eyes. “He’ll go back to his old self one day though. I know it. He just needs to get passed this,” he said brightly.

“He mentioned something like that to me the other day,” you replied, “not about his cousin though…that’s so sad. Anyway, it’s why I asked. I’m sorry if it seemed like I was prying.”

“Nah, don’t worry,” he waved it off like it wasn’t a big deal, “anyway, we know how to deal with him. So don’t worry, okay?” he smiled.

You nodded back and continued talking about work and your various school projects you both had coming up. It was really nice to get to know him better, and to know more about Yoosung, too. You never would have guessed.

Picking up your wine glass and bringing it to your lips, you made an effort to drink what was left in the glass.

“Okay…I think that’s enough,” Saeyoung laughed.

“What? Why?” you asked as he pulled the stemware out of your hand.

“Because half of that sip ended up on your shirt,” he replied while taking a photo with his phone.

He was right. Shit. As you looked down you saw a bright red stain on your shirt. Wiping your face in embarrassment you tried to fight him for his phone.

“Erase it!” you yelled as your hands grabbed at his cell.

No matter how hard you tried, he was beating you with ease. Your every move was batted away with one of his hands, all the while he had a shit-eating grin on his face, enjoying every second.

“I’ll delete it if you let me take you home. It’s a school night and it’s already pretty late.”

All you could muster was a nod.

“Are…you okay to drive?” you asked.

“I haven’t had anything but water and some soda,” he replied.

Helping you to the car, he was careful not to drive too fast.

“If you throw up in here, V is going to kill me,” Saeyoung nudged you.

“I’m not THAT drunk,” you slapped his hand away, “just sleepy…”

Saeyoung watched you nod off in the passengers seat. The street lights flashed over your face rhythmically. Every now and again he would glance over, reveling in your soft features and peaceful disposition.

He hadn’t even opened the passengers side door from the curb when he heard your parents arguing inside. Their shouts were clear as if they were on the lawn. His heart was stuck in his throat. He knew all too well what it felt like to live in a household like this. His eyes peered down with sadness as you slept.

“Hey…” he tried to wake you up,” your parents sound like they’re fighting?”

“What else is new,” you said in your sleep.

‘Hah, sarcastic as ever’, he thought. 

He couldn’t let you go home like this. Not with them arguing…And Saeran’s room would be free since he was staying with Yoosung…

He knew his mom would be passed out by now, so she wouldn’t even notice.

Getting back in the car he continued a bit further until he reached his house. Hopefully you wouldn’t freak too much when you woke up.

“Come on,” he encouraged you to get out of the car, “do you mind staying in Saeran’s room for the night?”

You shook your head ‘no’ and he helped you inside while carrying your bag. Luckily, Saeran’s room was pretty clean. He pulled the blanket up over you after you lay in bed.

“Thank you…I’m going to bed now,” you spoke in a soft voice.

He couldn’t help but caress your hair back a bit as you sighed in your sleep. He was used to taking care of Saeran. And now, even Yoosung…but this was different. He pulled his hand back, remembering Saeran’s feelings for you.

Damn it,” his hand balled into a fist.

Why did it have to be this way.

Godmarked

Fandom: Moana
Words: 2,400
Category: Gen
Relationship: Moana & Maui

Summary: As the mortal who restored Te Fiti, Moana’s fairly accustomed to receiving gifts - anywhere from bowing and scraping to feasts thrown in her honor. She’s even come face-to-face with gods intent on displaying their gratitude. But this offer? This one’s new.


Shoutout to @paperjam-bipper and @procrastinatingbookworm for inspiring this idea! Look, I have to write fluff sometime, and this idea was just too good to pass up.

So, with no further ado, Godmarked.


“Anything.”

“Anything in this realm,” says the godly figure in front of her, kneeling atop the waves. He’s got little whalefins flapping along his ankles that help a lot for holding off the revelation that Moana is talking to a major god. “I’m afraid I cannot offer you anything from the other realms. Pulotu, for example, is outside my domain.” He eyes Moana with a hint of amusement curling up his cheeks. “Though knowing what I do of you, mortal Chief, I daresay that a beast of Pulotu would interest you little.”

“Yeah,” Moana agrees, nodding her head. “No scaly beasts for me. So just to clarify, this includes, like…magic powers and all that.”

“That is within my ability, yes.”

Keep reading

13RW Preferences; How They Ask You Out:

Authors Note: I feel as though these concepts are slowly going to turn into a series. P.S the boys’ dialogue is in italics :)

Originally posted by spragnione

Alex Standall:

During the weeks leading to Liberty High’s annual Winter Formal, you and Alex had been hanging around with each other regularly, and truthfully you were pleasantly surprised at how in sync the two of you were with each other. So when Alex asked you to be his date for the Winter Formal; you excitedly said yes! That night Alex arrived at your house in his car with a delicate collection of your favourite flowers in his hand. “Y/N, you look amazing!” “Thanks Alex, what about now though?.” you asked pulling the funniest face possible “Still beautiful to me”.

Originally posted by shipping-the-bromance

Justin Foley:

After performing your cheer routine exceptionally at the team tryouts you were immediately awarded a spot on Liberty’s cheer team, which you and your friend, Justin, were really excited about. The truth is, you had always secretly hoped that you and Justin would become more than just friends; you both understood each other and Justin couldn’t help himself from being incredibly flirtatious whenever he found himself around you. So when the final game of the season came around and the Liberty Tigers won. School spirit was high and in the heat of the moment Justin found himself looking over to you with a smile (see gif) and instead of rushing over to celebrate with his team mates he made his way to you, lifting you into a hug with a huge smile on his face “Well played, Foley. There’s no way you’re not getting that scholarship now.” “Thanks, Y/L/N!” “You should probably get back to your team to get that trophy though” “I’d rather get the girl, if that’s cool with you?”.

Originally posted by lilpieceofmyworld

Clay Jenson:

Communications class wasn’t exactly your favourite subject, purely because you found the concept of the class as a whole a bit pointless. Clay Jenson was the only positive to your Communications class. The two of you got on fairly well, due to your mutual summer job working at the local theatre, and despite Clay being slightly awkward at times the two of you always had fun whenever you were together. One day during your Communications class you received a folded note with a question: Monet’s, after school with me? and two tick box answers: Yes or No. You could recognise the sharp lined handwriting that belonged to your co-worker and you knew this was his adorably awkward way of asking you out on a date. So you turned around with a smile to look at him (see gif) before turning back to the note to scribble down your own tick box answer: It’s a date, Jenson. 

Originally posted by wkom

Jeff Atkins:

Since meeting Jeff Atkins a couple of weeks ago at a party, the two of you quickly became inseparable during school. It was as though the two of you had known each other for years. So when Jeff announced that he was throwing a party to celebrate his birthday and that you were invited, you were excited to spend more time with him, again, outside of the corridors of Liberty High. As soon as Jeff spotted you at his party he rushed over to greet you with a drink it was at this time you realised you had forgotten something quite important: Jeff’s present. “Hey, Y/N. So happy you could make it” Jeff said pulling you in for a hug “Hey birthday boy, of course I wouldn’t dare to miss it…” Your slight pause concerned Jeff “What’s up?” “I’m such a terrible person. I forgot to get you a birthday present, I’m so sorry.” Jeff laughed “I don’t mind, Y/N. To be honest you being here is kind of the best present you could’ve given, but if you’re really bothered by it you could always make it up to me by letting me take you on a date sometime.”.

Originally posted by veronicsalodge

Zach Dempsey:

Valentine’s Day had always been a big cause for a social event at Liberty High, and this year had been no exception. You and Zach had only recently became acquainted due to a school project, but despite Zach managing to occasionally be a bit of an idiot, you kind of guessed that he always had good intentions. So when the two of you matched each other for the ‘Oh My Dollar Valentine’ you expected him to find the situation funny but he didn’t. “The thing is, you were the Valentine I was hoping for, Y/N.” (see gif) “So how do you feel about going on a date? Maybe we could end up being one of the first ‘Oh My Dollar Valentine’ success stories”. 

love and gelato

Victor’s life consists of three things: taking classes at the local university, figure skating on the weekends, and working at a florist shop downtown. After years upon years of monotony, he’s convinced that nothing can take him by surprise anymore. However, when a new employee begins working at Celestino’s, a gelato shop across the road, Victor’s immediately intrigued. Something about watching “gelato boy” work, or laugh, or dance when he thinks no one is watching ignites emotions within Victor that he thought long buried, and soon enough he finds himself longing to meet the boy behind the counter.

In order to fulfill his wish, Victor begins leaving flowers with flirty notes attached to them outside Celestino’s, knowing gelato boy will find them the next morning. It becomes a routine, another expected part of his day, but what happens when notes written on cups begin appearing in return?

[AO3 Link]

Victor’s never been in love.

Sure, he’s had flings over the years, short, temperate relationships that fizzled out before they really began, but he’s never felt anything close to what all those sappy, romantic songs talk about. No butterflies in the pit of his stomach, no talking on the phone into the early hours of the morning, no pining for someone he can’t have. He can count on one hand the amount of times he’s been on a second date, and he’s never been on a third.

Ultimately, Victor’s decided that people are simply boring, and that’s the last thing he needs when his life is already an ocean of monotony. Every day is the same, a cycle of going to class, working at Yakov’s Flower Emporium, and skating whenever he’s able. He can wake up in the morning and know exactly what he’s going to do and who he’s going to see. Nothing’s exciting anymore and hasn’t been for a long time. The last thing he needs is a bland romantic life to match, and after years of messy one night stands and unfulfilling coffee dates, Victor’s resigned himself to the fact that for now, at least, he’s better off alone.

But then gelato boy comes along and Victor suddenly finds himself questioning everything.

It was three months ago when Victor saw gelato boy for the first time. He’s fixing the arrangements for the flower shop’s front counter display when he glances up and sees a guy who takes his breath away. The boy is casually standing in Celestino’s, the gelato shop that popped up about a year ago, looking out of place behind the counter. His black hair is unruly, swooping across his forehead and falling in front of a pair of half-rimmed, blue glasses. His hip is cocked out to the side and he’s wringing his hands together, only stopping when Celestino appears from the back room and hands him one of the shop’s obnoxious, lime green aprons to wear. The boy takes it with a devastatingly beautiful smile then loops it over his head, laughing when it catches on his ear.

Adorable, Victor thinks.

He ends up discreetly watching the boy for the rest of his shift. When Yakov asks for a volunteer to water the window boxes, Victor raises his hand before anyone else can get a word in edgewise, because he knows he can sneak glances at the boy while he does it. When he is assigned desk duty, Victor finds himself more entertained by the boy taking notes on gelato flavors than doing his own work. And when he is closing up for the day, Victor nearly burns down the building when he knocks a candle over and sets a pile of business cards on fire, too distracted by the boy swaying his hips to a song Victor can’t hear.

Needless to say, Victor is one-hundred percent smitten, and the following weeks are filled with his pathetic, lovelorn pining. It seems like nobody can escape his bemoaning over “gelato boy,” as they’ve all come to refer to Celestino’s mystery worker. If Victor isn’t talking about gelato boy, then he’s doodling pictures of him on discarded receipts. If he’s not doodling, then he’s making heart eyes at him through the window. And if he’s not making heart eyes, then he’s finding any excuse to work by front desk where he can have clear view of Celestino’s.

It’s ridiculous, enough that his coworkers intervene.

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Bad Day

Okay so this is for my lovely @takeiteasyonmyheart who has been having a bad day. I’m so sorry it’s so crappy you deserve so much more my love and I really hope your day/evening will get better. This is also for all my folk who have been having a bad day. I love you guys, again please forgive the crappiness.

Nothing had worked out the way you had wanted it to today. Everything that could have gone wrong had and you were cursing your crappy karma. Killing a spider shouldn’t unleash this kind of hell should it?
Grumbling you opened the door to your apartment, you needed a good night off. Maybe you still had some margarita mix left and you were positive you still had a tub of ice cream in the freezer. Sighing you toed off your shoes before making a beeline for the fridge. Let the comfort drinking begin.
You were pouring yourself your third margarita when the door to your apartment opened and Shawn walked through. The radiant smile on his face as he spotted you, slowly turning into a frown as he saw the pitcher (yes pitcher) of margarita you were holding and the open tub of chocolate deliciousness slowly melting away on the coffee table.
“Bad day huh?” he smiled at you
“No shit, Sherlock. ” you said with a sigh as he took off his coat in the hallway before making his way towards you. He pressed a gentle kiss to your pouty lips before whispering.
“Gimme a few minutes. I’ll be right back.” A smile, his plotting smile as you referred to it, on his lips as he disappeared into the bathroom.
You continue to grumble, pout and sip your tasty drink, enjoying the light buzz of just-enough-to-tingle tipsiness. Shawn reappears a few minutes later dressed only in his boxers.
“That’s a long time to just take off your clothes noodle boy.” you say snarkily as he beams at you. Why is he not sharing your misery? Doesn’t he understand how miserable you are right now? How dare he blind you with his goddamn perfect teeth like that? He doesn’t answer, simply picks you up and carries you through the living room ignoring your whined “my drinkkkkk…”. You hear the water running in the bathroom. Had he? As Shawn enters the bathroom, you in his arms, you see that he had set up a whole romantic bath aesthetic… A fragrant bubble bath, soft music playing in the background and so many candles he had left the lights off. The warm glow of at least twenty candles casts beautiful shadows on Shawn’s skin. He takes off his boxers before getting into the tub, he looks at you, hazel eyes expectant.
“Won’t you join me?” he smiles gently. You nod as you start taking off your clothes, your footing just a tad unsure (thank you alcohol). You put your hand in his outstretched one letting him help you into the water. You settle into the warm water, the massive bathtub just big enough for the both of you.
“Love, you know I adore you… but could you move just a tad to the side. You’re sitting on my balls.”
“Ooops.” you giggle as you rearrange yourself.
“Thank god.” he whispers. He pinches your arm when you can’t seem to stop giggling.
“I happen to be very attached to my balls, thank you very much.” he defends himself halfheartedly. He loves seeing you giggle.
“Technically your balls are attached to you…” You whisper teasingly. You giggle again when he nips your neck with his teeth.
“Smart ass.”
You sigh as he runs his hand up and down your arm; coaxing you back to soberness with soft kisses to the sensitive spot behind your ear and gentle hands on your ribs. He nuzzles his face into your neck. Kissing the juncture of your jaw lightly. You lean into his touch, a moaned whisper of his name on your lips. Your back arches as his long fingers dig into your muscles, massaging them gently. His hands slowly work their way down, kneading your skin as warmth pools in your stomach. Feeling safe and at ease in his arms you let yourself sink back against his chest. Your head rests in the crook of his shoulder, turning your face into his neck as his fingers tease the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh. You moan a quiet please, wiggling your hips to get him closer to your pussy. His fingers slowly move in circles towards your clit, taking his time, torturing you with light taps to the bundle of nerves and slowly sliding his fingers back to rest above your pubic bone. Your back arches, pushing your hips into his hand as he cups your pussy, the tip of his index slipping inside.
“Shh. I’ve got you love. I’ve got you.” He whispers against your hair as his left arm wraps around your middle; effectively holding you down and making any movement impossible for you. He finally takes pity on you and sinks his index into you, slowly pumping in and out of you. A low moan tumbles from your lips as the slightly calloused finger grazes against your g-spot. A low hum vibrates through his chest as your walls tighten around his digit at the sensation.
“There it is.” He murmurs against your ear before adding a second finger and rubbing them against your g-spot. Trying to raise your hips you whine as his arms stops you and tightens its grip on you further. His hand slowly comes to rest on your breast, gently taking the nipple between his fingers and pulling lightly.
“Shh, love. No moving, just feel okay?” he asks you letting his lips run along the shell of your ear. You barely have time to nod before moaning as his thumb finds your clit and draws insistent circles over it. Your walls tighten around his fingers as you slowly feel pressure starting to build in your stomach. His fingers move in a come hither motion, slowly dragging against your walls. He adds a third finger, the fullness overwhelming yet just right as he pumps his fingers. As he whispers sweet words of praise into your ear you feel the telltale pressure of an orgasm building higher and higher, wrapping itself around the base of your spine. Your hips try to rise  against Shawn’s arm as his thumb draws tight circles over your clit. Your head tilts back, your lips turning into a pout as you silently beg him for a kiss. He lowers his lips to yours, taking your mouth in a devastatingly gentle kiss. His fingers pinch your nipple lightly, the sharp pain making you gasp and your hand wraps around his wrist in shock. His eyes open, a lazy grin on his lips.
“I do love the little sounds you make darling.” he drawls, as his thumb flicks your clit.
Ohs and please escape your lips as he keeps you not the edge of an orgasm for a few minutes. A particularly whiny and drawn out Shawn however does the trick as he lets his oh so heavenly fingers do their magic. The pressure in your lower abdomen becomes unbearable as he whispers “Let go love.” Against your jaw. A low moan tumbles from your lips as you shatter in his arms. Your hips bucking as your walls flutter wildly around his fingers. It’s not a screaming orgasm, it’s gentle, coaxed out of you, it leaves you drained and sleepy. As you slowly step out of the blissed out post orgasm fog, you register Shawn’s hands drawing soft circles into your skin. 
“Best possible outcome when making a pitcher of margarita” you mumble as you cuddle against his side. His choked laugh wraps around your heart like a warm blanket.
“What about you though?” you ask.
“What about me?” he frowns down at you, his fingers continuing to trace lazy circles on your stomach.
“Well that thing that’s closely linked to your precious balls?” you say. The fog in your brain clearing enough for you to tease Shawn, your favourite past time.
“Do not anger the guy who just had you begging for an orgasm love. It brings bad luck.” He threatens, laughter glinting in his eyes. You grumble a smile on your lips as you let yourself sink into his arms fully enjoying the feel of him wrapped around you.

He’s Human After All


I’d be answering all these in a single post. But I just have to say, whether you like him or hate him, it says a lot that Dazai’s miscalculation has gathered a mixed bag of reactions.

The last time he looked genuinely surprised was when Higuchi informed him that Q was released. That time with Ango? He was prepared, why else would he mess with the airbag? When he was shot by the sniper? Fyodor deduced Dazai came there with the knowledge that he might get shot, just so he can gather information. Dark Era was the most vulnerable we’ve seen him, but at that point he wasn’t a player yet, still just a pawn Mori could use as he pleased. Had Dazai acted as one unit with Oda from the start, all the tragedies which we’ve seen happen might’ve been prevented.

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2

so i have started reading the grisha triogy by leigh bardugo after reading six of crows. for some reason i thought its Impossible for me to like it as much as i liked six of crows. that was a severe error of judgement of course because im halfway through book three and i have loved every single moment in the series.

i highly recommend for anyone who likes fantasy, romance and interesting world building.

i havent been able to stop reading GDI

now to talk about this the darkling becausE I HAVE TO ADDRESS THIS MATTER: I HAVE VERY STRONG AND VERY CONFLICTING FEELINGS ABOUT HIM and so does alina maybe

on one hand i despise him for literally all the things hes done on the other though i would still definitely kiss him at least once or twice or more and that is Terrible!!!!

alright ive said my piece haha

edit: i just read more of book three AND THE IMPLICATIONS MAKE MY FEELINGS VERY UNCOMFORTABLE AND EVEN MORE COMPLICATED FOR NUMEROUS REASONS

anonymous asked:

Are there any tropes that you used to love that you now hate? If so, what are they and what made you change your mind about them?

nerd!Derek, definitely.

I mean… I never loved the trope, like actively sought it out, but I would enjoy it from time to time because it was a nice twist on the expected, and also because I do believe Derek’s incredibly smart. But I’ve been slow and steadily turned off the idea over time because… I just feel like the people who write it aren’t actually writing Derek. They’re writing Hoechlin (or, since Supergirl, Clark Kent) with Derek’s name. He ends up so sunshiney and shy and adorkable in ways Derek just… wouldn’t ever be, in my opinion.

And I mean… there are a lot of ways to write “nerd” characters without turning them into blushing innocent balls of sunshine (see: the way people write nerd!Stiles… who is usually pretty much just canon Stiles) but if you see nerd!Derek there’s an almost definite chance that he isn’t going to be Derek to me.

And obviously character interpretations are different and I know a lot of people really enjoy this trope, and that’s fine, but I’ve gotten to the point of kind of flinching away from fics that even give him glasses (especially when he’s still a werewolf because… I’m sorry, but what is the logic there…?) because 90% of the time glasses will mean nerd!Derek, and nerd!Derek means that I’m actually reading what feels like Hoechlin/Stiles fic, not Sterek.

Shape of You

Alright so here’s the start of a new AU!

Nesta hasn’t seen her sisters in almost a year. When she’s invited back to their lake house for a long weekend, Feyre insists she brings the boyfriend she’s told her about. The only problem is, he doesn’t exist. 

So out of desperation, her friend sets her up with Cassian. Somehow a weekend filled with fake hand holding and kisses, turns Nesta back into the girl she was before Tomas had destroyed her and the relationship she had with her sisters.



Chapter 1

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck,” I slammed my laptop shut as I threw my pen across the room. Of course my sisters would decide to have a start of summer weekend at the lake. And of course they would call me out for the lies I told them about the boy I met while here in the city.

It had been almost six months since I had last seen my sisters. I moved to the city as soon as I could, as soon as I found a job that would help me pay my half of the rent. I wanted out of that small town, I had to walk away before the memories, the ghosts haunted me forever. The city was my fresh start and even though neither of them understood, they let me go.

Feyre and I talked at least once a month on the phone. She kept asking me how I was doing and she told me that Tomas still asked about me. What she didn’t understand, even though I always changed the subject, was that I didn’t want to know about Tomas. I didn’t want to know about anyone in that small ass town because they were the reason why I left. The only reason I talked to Feyre was to check up on her and Elain.

They were the only family I had left. They were the only ones who mattered.

Sure I missed them. I missed my sisters, but it wasn’t enough to make me go visit home. I wasn’t homesick, I was content here in the city, in this new life I had made for myself. I loved my job at the bookstore. I loved the fact that I could walk everywhere and that things were open well into the night. But most of all I loved the fact that no one knew me. They didn’t know the secrets that had been whispered behind my back. They didn’t know how Tomas had tried to ruin me.

They didn’t know that he had almost won that war.

I read Feyre’s email again. Our lake house, the only thing our father had left to us. The lake house that had sat unused for years until we were old enough to realize the benefits of having that big house that sat right there at the water. The only reason we still owned it was because it was completely paid off. That and somehow Feyre and her fiancee were able to keep up with it.

The lake house where so many things had happened. So many things hadn’t happened too. There had been parties, there had been underage drinking. But mostly there had been tears. From me.

I pushed away those memories and looked at my computer. What was I supposed to do? I had started the lie to make my sister feel better. For her to think I wasn’t all alone out here in the city. Because she didn’t understand that I wanted to be alone. I didn’t want to be with someone who hurt me, who could destroy me. Not after I had been with Tomas for so long.

But I couldn’t tell her that truth. Not when I had fed her enough lies to make this boyfriend seem real. She was happy for me, she didn’t worry about me because she thought I had someone taking care of me. I didn’t need someone to take care of me. Just like I knew Feyre didn’t need her fiancee to take care of her. But it was nice knowing she had someone steady. She had someone real after the horrors that Tamlin had dealt her.

My sisters didn’t know about Tomas. They didn’t really know much about why I wanted to leave. It had been different when our parents died. I could’ve left and they would’ve understood. But I stayed until they were finished high school and then when Feyre announced she was getting married last year I up and left. I didn’t even say goodbye I just left a letter explaining I needed to find my own way now that they were both able to take care of themselves.

I pulled my hair hard, trying to stop the tears from filling my eyes. I didn’t cry, not easily. But I got teary eyed when I was frustrated. I couldn’t tell them the truth. So what was I supposed to do? I squeezed my eyes shut and the door to my apartment opened.

“Fuck me this can’t be happening.”

“Nesta!” I jumped at Rita’s voice, “you seem agitated.”

I met my roommate Rita at the bookstore. She was leaving for another job and I said something about needing a place to stay. We hit it off right away and I didn’t hate living with her. Sure our apartment was small, smaller than the home I had shared with my two sisters. But it was ours, I paid rent and I had my own room. Rita didn’t nag me about my mess and I didn’t nag her about hers.

We were good roommates. We got along and we left each other alone when we knew the other needed space. We were friends, but we were almost roommates. We didn’t get in each other’s business unless there was a reason to. I had gotten lucky.

I groaned, "my sisters want to have a long weekend at the lake.”

“Oh fun!”

“Not when you’ve been lying about having a boyfriend. And they want you to bring him along.”

Rita laughed, “oh shit I forgot. Damn what are you going to do?”

I shook my head, “I’ll think of something.”

I leaned back in my chair and Rita watched me. She raised an eyebrow and smiled, “I might know someone who can help.”

“No. The last guy you introduced me to was disgusting.”

His name was Adam and he was a hipster to end all hipsters. His hair was dirty and his glasses were round. They didn’t even have frames, and he spoke in riddles. I didn’t even spend five minutes in his presence. I found an excuse to leave, I texted Rita and told her to call me, and up and left him high and dry at the coffee shop we met at.

Rita laughed, “I’m sorry okay. I thought you’d get along. But you’ll like this one. Should I have him meet you? Even if he’s not the brightest, he’s easy on the eyes.”

She wiggled her eyebrows at me and I couldn’t help but laugh. I bit my lip, was I that desperate?

“Really? Your advice is that I hire someone to be my boyfriend for the weekend?”

She shrugged as she set her bag on the counter, “it’s either that or tell them the truth, Nes. I’m not sure which is worse since you seem so opposed to letting your sisters believe you have someone in your life.”

I winced. Rita never told me what to do, she never scolded me for lying to my sisters. But I knew she was right. If I was so okay with being alone, and I swore I was, then why did I feel the need to please my little sister? I’m sure there was some therapist who would say I really wasn’t okay being alone and that some part of me wanted someone around.

But I wouldn’t believe them. Because I didn’t need anyone, I only needed myself. But I didn’t want my sisters to worry. I didn’t want them to think I left them because they were a burden. They are my sisters and I will always be there for them. But it’s my turn to have a life. It’s my turn to find where I’m supposed to be.

I looked at Rita, she was texting someone. She sat down on the couch and I looked at the picture of the three of us. The only picture I had on my desk of us when I was five and they were babies. I was always there, always taking care of them. They were my best friends, before that night drove us apart. Before that night pushed me so far away from everyone else that I couldn’t find my way back to them.

I didn’t want them to ask about it. I didn’t want them to think they needed to figure me out. If I had someone with me they would direct the attention to him. They would ask him about his life and how we met and what we did, instead of berating me with questions about why I left.

I let out a slow breath and Rita looked at me. She smiled slightly, like she already knew what I was about to say. My cheeks were red as I let the thoughts settle and I nodded my head slowly.

“Fine,” I gritted my teeth as I looked at the clock, “tell your friend to meet me at Luke’s diner in five minutes.”

“He’s already on his way. Trust me you’ll like him. He’s big and handsome,” her eyes got wide as if she had a crush on him herself, “he’s just your type.”

I rolled my eyes and stood up, “if he’s a hipster I swear to god I’ll kill you.”

Rita’s laugh followed me as I grabbed my purse and headed out the door. I walked down the steps, my heart pounding as I opened the door to our building. The sun was warm, the weather had already started to turn to summer. But goosebumps pricked my skin as I thought about hiring someone to lie to my family.

It wasn’t lying. It was pretending. My sister would bring her fiancee, I’m sure Elain had someone. I couldn’t remember if she told me about someone important. His name started with an L? Or maybe it was a C. She didn’t talk much whenever Feyre put her on the phone, but she told me bits and pieces of her life. Elain was the most upset when they found me gone.

I felt guilty every time she called.

But I knew with Feyre came Rhys and with Rhys came his friends. Azriel the quiet one who followed Rhys’s cousin everywhere she went. Feyre told me they were finally opening up to the idea of dating and while I was happy for them all, they were one big happy family, I knew that meant I would be the odd one out. I always was the odd one out, the one who didn’t fit in. The girl who stood alone and never had someone there beside her.

I wanted this weekend, now that I knew about it, to be fun. I wanted them to see me as the Nesta I always was, not the girl I had turned into after that terrible night. The night I was running from. The night I would do anything and everything to forget.

I rubbed my hands up and down my arms as I rounded the corner and the diner came into view. I realized as I walked towards it that I wanted to go home. I wanted to go to the lake and see my sisters and the family they had made for themselves. But I didn’t want to go alone.

Sue me I still had some feelings. I still had some pride I suppose.

I walked into the diner and the bell above the door sounded. Luke, the owner, stood behind the counter and smiled at me. I nodded in greeting, my eyes sweeping the tables. I knew which one was waiting for me as soon as my eyes landed on him. I stood there for a moment too long and contemplated turning around.

He was a big hulking man, his dark hair was long. He looked warm, his skin glowing in the harsh lights of the diner. His black shirt fit perfectly over his arms and his chest. He took up enough space that my eyes couldn’t wander away from them if they tried. My heart stopped, his eyes landing on me before I could make a run for it. Before I could decide this was a terrible choice and I should just tell my sisters the truth.

“Well hello sweetheart,” he stood up and half his mouth tilted in a smile. He could’ve been attractive, if he cut his hair.

I pulled my chair out, “I’m Nesta.”

He licked his lips, “you can call me Cassian,” his eyes sparkled. Like they were hiding something he was dying for me to find out.

“Right well. I take it Rita told you why I’m here.”

He coughed, “something about you being in need of a male escort to the lake this weekend.”

I winced, “a friend,” I tried wondering if I could go through with this, “to make my sisters stop asking me why I don’t have a boyfriend okay? Can you do that? Pretend?”

Amusement filled his eyes. He tried to fight the smile that tugged at his lips, but when it didn’t stop he ran his finger along his chin. He looked down at his hands and I could tell he was thinking about more than just agreeing to helping me. Hell we didn’t know each other, we had just met and I asked him to date me. Even if it was fake, even if he was helping me, this was still weird.

Me and my stupid pride. I was about to take back the offer and tell him to forget it, that I had a mental breakdown and this was all just the biggest embarrassing moment of my life.

But then Cassian nodded slowly, “you know I’m surprise you don’t have a boyfriend. You’re cute and I know a few guys who like bossy.”

I rolled my eyes, “wow that was super helpful,” I glared at him, my hands were shaking. I shoved them under my legs as I waited to hear his answer, “you can just say no. Rita said you were single and I thought maybe you’d want a free trip to the lake for a weekend. I thought maybe…”

I stopped. I almost thought we could be friends. But I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood, stopping myself form wishing for something I could never have. I didn’t let myself get close to people, not after Tomas wedged between me and my sisters. Not since that night when he destroyed all the threads of trust I had ever had.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you. I just said I’m surprised you aren’t taken,” he smiled then, he liked watching me squirm. He leaned back and stretched his arms over his head. His shirt rode up slightly and I saw the dark markings of a tattoo that disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans.

“Cassian.”

He wiggled his eyebrows, “well how can I say no when you say my name like that?”

He watched me for a moment as relief flooded through me. As much as I hated this I felt better once he said he would help me. I hated having to lie because everyone thought I couldn’t handle life without Tomas. Except I broke up with him. And I moved here, far away from my family to have the life I wanted.

"What do I get for helping you?” He finally asked, his deep voice smooth as he propped his elbow on the table, then leaned his head on his hand. He kept staring at me and it felt like his honey brown eyes could see into my soul.

I looked down at his hands. His skin was golden, a little darker. He looked like he was carved of stone, like he could’ve been a Greek god in another lifetime. A piece of brown hair fell in his eyes and I wanted to push it back. I let out a breath. I hadn’t thought this far.

“I’ll pay you,” I finally said. I didn’t have a lot but I could do something, “it won’t be much. But you’ll get a four day weekend at the lake house. Meals and showers and everything included.”

Cassian seemed to think it over. He nodded his head, "how much?”

“$100.”

“I know I look cheap, but I won’t act like your boyfriend for a hundred dollars, Nesta.”

“$200?”

He shook his head, “you’ll have to do better than that.”

I blew out a breath, “$500. That’s my final offer.”

He reached across the table and touched my hand. His skin was warm and a spark shot down my arm. He ran his thumb over the back of my hand, “well sweetheart you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart,” I snapped. My eyes narrowed.

He laughed, “well I guess we should make some ground rules.”

“The first one is no pet names. Nesta,“ I pointed at me, "Cassian. Got it?”

He sighed, “sure sweetheart.”

He wasn’t going to make this easy. I could tell as he continued to smile, his eyes lighting up as I glared at him. It was like he thought I was a challenge, like he wanted to defy everything I was saying. He licked his lips, his fingers tapping on the table as I thought through what other boundaries we needed to establish. I didn’t realize this would all happen so fast. The weekend would be here in two days and somehow I had managed to find myself a boyfriend to fill the empty role.

Feyre would love Cassian. He was everything I would never want in a boyfriend. He was the complete opposite of Tomas and I couldn’t stop letting that sway me. He was big and dark, whereas Tomas was small and light. Cassian was full of mystery, but not the kind that Tomas carried with him. Cassian seemed honorable, Tomas had just been pure evil.

I let out a slow breath and pulled my hands off the table so he wouldn’t try to touch me again. I couldn’t stop feeling that spark going down my spine. I couldn’t stop wondering why exactly I had wanted this in the first place. I shook my head and finally brought my eyes back up to his.

“Okay so I’ve got some rules. First we hold hands if someone else is in the room. No touching if we’re alone, because honestly there’s no reason for it. You’re there to make me look good. You can kiss my cheek, but nothing more. We aren’t big on public displays of affection. My sister and her fiancé are, but that’s another story,” I rolled my eyes. Feyre and Rhys could barely keep their hands off each other. I hated being stuck in a room with them.

My cheeks turned pink and my mouth went dry, “we will probably have to share a room, you sleep on the floor. We don’t share the room if the other is changing. Make sure you bring enough clothes to sleep in and a bathing suit.”

Cassian nodded, "fine. But you want this to be believable. So you’re forgetting one thing.”

“What?”

He smiled and it would’ve knocked me to my knees if I wasn’t already sitting. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to make it through the weekend alive. I had a feeling this new friend of mine was going to try and climb the walls I had built this last year. Like he thought he could break down the shell I had surrounded myself inside.

HIs brown eyes danced as he looked at me, his crooked smile in place, ”the story of how we met.“

are you freaking kidding me translators

i’m so angry right now