#it was a gala apple and it was SO fucking good i haven’t had an apple that good since

[bunniepaws]

i don’t think i’ll ever eat another apple that was as tasty or as sweet as the one i had when i was like 12 on a pumpkin patch hayride at 5 pm in perfect weather. or grapes that were crispier and more flavorful than the ones i had in my boyfriends kitchen at two am w bare feet on cold tile.

#personal #i was originally gonna post this on twitter but i expanded it and got sad/sentimental so it goes here now #the other sensations were important to the memory too #it was a gala apple and it was SO fucking good i haven’t had an apple that good since #the grapes were just a couple months ago now #but they were the best fucking grapes id ever had #HUGE and CRISP and such good flavor #i find a lot of other grapes to not have as much flavor as those did #so i’ll remember those grapes forever…….. and that apple…………… #fruit tastes best in a nice place and w a smile (: #anyway #it’s almost seven am goodnight

[my-simp-land]

My Whole World

Bucky wants to go for a motorcycle ride, and you end up going with him as his "chaperone." A beautiful kaleidoscope awaits you. Bucky x reader. 1954 words. Fluff. Have fun on the ride :))

“Hey Friday? Do we have any grapes?”

“We do not, Miss. We have gala apples, bananas, blueberries, mangos, strawberries, and watermelon.”

“Strawberries and sugar, it is. Thank you, Friday.”

“You’re welcome, Miss.”

It’s a short walk to the kitchen. I’m on hall GERS, so I have to walk through the common area to get to the kitchen. As I approached, I could hear quite the argument. Likely, Bucky and Sam. Or Bucky and Tony. The way I describe it, and it might be my bias, but Bucky isn’t actually the problem. Bucky and Sam were like a married couple; they could fight all day and go home and climb into bed together. Bucky and Tony are something else though. After Bucky’s rehabilitation in Wakanda, it took a while for Tony to accept Bucky’s apology and allow him to stay in the compound without constant surveillance. That was a tense period of times. Bucky always tries to be kind to Tony, but if Tony gets slightly agitated then it’s on.

“It’s just a ride. The bike has trackers. My arm has trackers. I can even be back before dark.”

“I don’t care, tin man. You’re not leaving the premises without a chaperone. You live with the Avengers, and if you run or turn or get captured, what does that say about us?”

“I won’t be turned! Shuri got it out of my head! And Vision and (Y/N) made sure of it! I don’t understa-”

Now is a good time if any. “Hey guys. Have any dinner plans?”

Silence.

“Well...I’m just gonna grab some strawberries real quick then I’ll be out of your hair.”

It was deathly silent as I arranged my plate with strawberries and fixed a little ramekin with some sugar. It’s usually Sam and Bucky that do the staring contest, but Tony can be childish too.

“I don’t think I need a babysitter.”

“And I don’t care.”

And the bomb dropped. They were yelling over each other to quite a degree. Yelling was never your thing. Or any loud noise in all honesty. Trauma does funny things to you. You could see Steve and Sam at the common room entrance and Wanda and Nat at the other hall enterance. I’m certain we are about to see the beginning of the second civil war.

“YOU’RE SCARING (Y/N)!”

“YOU’RE THE ONE THAT BROUGHT IT UP WITH HER STILL HERE! YOU SHOULD APOLOGIZE!”

“YOU RAISED YOUR VOICE FIRST! IT WAS JUST A NORMAL CONVERSA-”

“BULLSHIT! YOU JUST CAN’T LIVE WIT-”

“i’ll do it.”

Everything seemed to stand still. Onlookers happened to turn to me, and Bucky and Tony were locked in another staring contest. I guess I’ll have to say it again.

“I’ll do it. I’ll ride with you, Bucky. Just- just stop yelling please.”

Bucky sighed and looked away from Tony, losing the contest. “Doll, you don’t have to ride with me. I’ll just put it off. You don’t even like motorcycles. I’ll just hang here.” He tried to do that smile that would make me agree. I coud see it in his blue eyes that he was sad about it though. It seems to him that I’m agreeing with Tony about him needing a babysitter.

“No. We’ll ride. I trust you to drive.”

His eyes nearly doubled in size. I knew I hooked him. It wasn’t often that someone said that to him, even after his rehab. I do trust him though. He’s always protected me on missions, HYDRA and Avengers alike. He’s the most dangerous person I know, but I know without a doubt that he would save me should something happen on our drive.

“Okay. That’s settled. Thank you for riding with Tin Man. I’ll see you two once you’re back.”

Tony turned and left the kitchen. It seems like everyone else cleared out pretty quick too. That just leaves me, Bucky, and my strawberries.

“You can uh, eat before we go. I didn’t plan on being back soon.”

“Okay.”

“And maybe something a little warmer. It gets cold on the mountain after dark.”

“Alright. I’ll meet you in 45.”

A quick snack, refresh, and change of clothes later, I was stepping into the garage to meet Bucky. When you stepped in, you could spot Bucky near the back looking at Tony’s father’s car. Tony would keep them out of sight, but Bucky and Steve enjoyed them. It also reminded them of how different they are.

“Hey Buck. Ready to go?”

“Yeah, doll. Just...looking. Steve is letting us borrow his bike. Let me show you some safety stuff on it...just in case, y’know.”

We walked over to the Steve’s bike. It was a pretty bikes, but you’d seen it plenty. Steve loved that thing like it was a child. Bucky however, he was something else. He had his long hair pulled back into a half up half down look. His stubble had recently graduated into a beard. The extra dark hair on his face made his blue eyes pop even more. His outfit though. It was rare to see him out of his usual hoodie, basketball shorts, and slides or his field outfit. He had dressed warm for the occasion. Bucky wore his leather coat over a navy henley. He wore dark jeans and heavy iron toed boots. He was the definition of…

“Doll, you listening?”

“Uh, no.”

“I figured as much. Put your helmet on and we’ll go.”

“What about your helmet? I know you might not have much up there, but it is quite a pretty face.” His eye roll was so hard it probably could’ve detached his eyes.

“Super soldier, angel. I don’t nee-”

“James Buchanan, I will not get on a death trap motorcycle with someone who doesn’t have a helmet on. Do you even have a driver’s license? Muchless a motorcycle license?”

“I’ll put a helmet on if you don’t ask about my license situation anymore. Deal?”

“You drive a hard bargain. Okay, deal.” I handed him my helmet. He slipped it on as I grabbed another. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“Hop on, doll. Yeah, just like that. Scoot closer. Closer. Like right up against- yeah. Yes. Alrighty. Your feet will rest here and here. Keep them there so you don’t burn yourself on the motor. Perfect, dollface. Now, just hold on. Not- no. Doll, hold on to me. You won’t have any stability behind me.”

“I don’t know about this…”

“You agreed. Just hold me like you hold that big green frog marshmallow thing.”

“Bucky!”

“Yeah, I’ve seen you clutch that thing. I’m honestly surprised you haven’t busted it yet. Now hold on.”

“I hate you.”

He laughed that sweet beautiful laugh. It was rare to get a genuine laugh out of him, so maybe this death machine was worth it. “I know you do.”

And we were off. Back tire skidded and fish tailed behind us. Tony would complain about that. My helmet was glued between Bucky’s shoulder blades. My screams and Bucky’s laughter filled the comms. The wind blew past us, but my arms didn’t let up on Bucky’s torso. My heart felt like it was beating out my chest. I’m certain he could feel my heart on his back. I could feel us turn through the curvy mountain roads. Thankfully I listened to Bucky and got a thicker coat or I would be frozen to the bone.

“Doll, look up.”

“No. My head is gonna fly off if I look up.”

“I promise, doll. Don’t you trust me.”

Fuck.

I would much rather be shot again than lift my head from the safety of Bucky’s back, but he pulled the stupid trust card. “You can do it, angel. It’s so worth it.”

It was slow motion. My head came up, and the wind blew across my helmet and down my neck. I had to blink to get used to the light again. Everything was so beautiful, The yellow-greens of the spring leaves created a beautiful kaleidoscope of colors around us. White blossoms littered the road and fell around us. Sunbeams poked through the leaves and reflected off in a perfect way.

“Wow.”

“Yeah. We’ll stop up here to watch the sunset.”

Everything seemed to slow down. I was so enamored by the scenery I didn’t notice Bucky stealing glances at my big head. I definitely looked like a bobble head.

Bucky pulled off the road onto a lookout. We had the perfect view of the valley.

“Wow Bucky. Look! You can see the compound from here! Oh wow. The trees are so pretty. Everything is...golden.”

“Yeah. I remember driving up here a couple times before the war. The first time I came was not long after Becca was born. I was still really young, but I remember the stars sparkling. It was the first time I had ever seen them. Y’know, being in Brooklyn and light pollution and what not. I knew I wanted to spend every night here, just looking at the stars.”

Bucky shuffled a little closer. I could feel the heat radiating from him. We faced the sun as it set deeper into the valley. Everything was turning from a nice green yellow to orange and golden,

“The second time was not long before I was shipped out. I had saved up enough for gas to borrow my pa’s truck. We spent all day here. It was unbearably hot all day. Poor Steve, he was still a bean pole, and I basically had to sell my soul to keep him long enough to see the sunset. It was worth it though. I would do it everyday for him. We stood here, just like us, and watched the sunset. We’d seen the sunset plenty, but his face when he looked up and saw those stars. His face was priceless.”

I could see how much Steve meant to him, and how much he missed his home. Even though he was getting better at fitting in, it still wasn’t where he belonged.

“I’m sorry, Buck. I wish I could take you back.”

“No, no, no. Doll. I didn’t mean it that way.” His hands covered my shoulders, flesh and metal. “I’m trying to say...oh lord how do i? I’ve only brought my best friend here and now you and...I don’t know. I’m not as smooth as I was. Just uh...I want you to know that you’re special to me. In a Steve but not Steve way.”

My mouth was a perfect O. I knew I was daft, but this is a new low. My brain was already short-circuiting, but I shut down when he grabbed my face. I was stuck staring into his ocean blue eyes.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

His soft lips touched mine. My body was suddenly in motion. Our chests were squished together and my hands found their way to the back of his neck, his hair intertwined my fingers. In that moment, his breath became mine. Our souls were one. Everything I was flowed through him, and everything he was flowed through me. Fuck the sunset, this is something else.

We pulled away. It was like post nut clarity. “I hope you did the same for Steve when you brought him.” Bucky died laughing. The full belly laugh that would hurt if you laughed too long. It was highly contagious because I was leaning into him. “You know Steve is too modest to do something as passionate as that.”

Our laughter trailed off, and we were left staring at the valley. We missed the actual sunset, but you could begin to see the stars poking through.

“It’s like looking over the whole world.”

“Yeah, my whole world.”

yoooo. i hope you enjoyed. i love doing little domestic pieces like this. if you have some ideas for domestic pieces you want to see, please send me an ask. i can't promise i'll write since i'm inconsistent af, but it might motivated me more :))

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #fatws bucky #bucky fic #bucky x you #bucky imagine #marvel #sebastian stan #fluff #fanfic #bucky barns fanfiction

[dontcallmecarrie]

No Hero [And Not Made Of Stone]

...I’ve got nothing. Not even sure where the idea came from, but as per usual, the moment my brain had an idea it immediately took it by both hands and ran with it so here you go. Name for this AU might change, but for now here have another song lyric [from Five Finger Death Punch’s “Wrong Side of Heaven”]

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Warnings: mild profanity, dysfunctional families, a metric buttload of gender and identity issues, because the protagonist is a possibly agender character [their stance on gender can be summed up as “huh, those parts are new. Weird. Moving on”]. Not exactly Tony-friendly at times, but not for the reasons you’d think. 

To sum up: haven’t done a SI-OC fic before, let’s see how it goes. Under the cut, because RIP mobile users otherwise.

.

Justin Hammer’s name wasn’t always Justin Hammer.

He doesn’t really remember what it was anymore, but he knows that much.

.

Honestly? This ‘memories of another world’ thing was more a pain in the ass than anything else, at least at first.

It might’ve been cool if they remembered something useful— concrete dates, specific innovations, hell, even any tips of what stocks to invest in— but no, they had to get short end of the stick with weird dreams, identity crises, and a longing for a family they’d never had.

Oh, and another round of puberty, because of why the hell not. Like last time hadn’t been enough of a pain in the ass.

Ugh. They wanted a refund.

.

...okay, so it probably could’ve been worse. 

Justin has vague recollections of going to sleep hungry, of huddling with their younger sibling under blankets because their parents couldn’t pay the electrical bill— so really, in the great scheme of things, being born as part of the 1% this round was. Something.

Trippy as hell, is what it was, honestly.

This family was loaded, and under other circumstances, they might’ve even been able to enjoy it— if, y’know, they hadn’t had the incredibly shitty luck of being born two years before Tony Stark.

.

“Look at what he’s doing, that could be you” this, “study hard, he’s going to be your rival” that— geez, if any other kid had been in Justin’s shoes, he would not have envied them. 

If he didn’t already have a firmly established sense of self, it would have been a mindfuck of a childhood because for some reason, his father kept comparing them? And yeah, Justin could kinda see some of the parallels— they were about the same age, both firstborn sons and heirs to their parents’ respective companies— but that’s about where the similarities ended.

Look, Justin wasn’t a genius, okay? He was fairly bright for his age, but...he wasn’t a one-in-a-million prodigy. And, up until he was 6, that had been acceptable.

But then the press went wild because oh, look, Howard’s son built a circuit board at age four, and it all went downhill from there because suddenly, being normal wasn’t good enough. Not for his parents, anyway.

.

Sometimes, he wondered what would’ve happened if it had been another kid in his shoes— how they would’ve handled the small army of private tutors and the extra classes they kept being signed up for in the hopes of finding something they excelled in.

The pressure of constantly being compared to a once-in-a-generation prodigy, and always being found wanting.

Justin wasn’t afraid of hard work— but it was grating, even for him. 

Really, just about the only silver lining to this ‘second life’ thing was his adorable little sister, Stephanie.

She, at least, looked up to him: her gap-toothed smile didn’t hold any expectations for anything other than the piggyback rides he regularly offered, and this time he didn’t even have to worry about medical bills, or—

Anyway.

.

His family and the Starks run in the same social circles, because of course they do. 

Now that he’s getting older, Justin’s being dragged along to all of the fancy shindigs with his parents, and it’s only due to two lifetimes’ worth of self-control that keeps his polite smile from wavering when he’s introduced to the bane of his existence.

“Hi, my name’s Tony Stark.” The little brat said, and Justin bit back a sigh as he shook his hand.

.

...so, the Stark heir his father wanted to be his rival was a kid. Actually a kid, which just made this mess that much more pathetic because part of Justin had almost been starting to want to buy into this rivalry thing, but.

In this life, and the last one, they’d been an older sibling.

This time, despite everything, he could tell he was softer— he had never gone to bed hungry, never had to worry about the roof over his head, or being solely responsible for his younger sibling’s health and safety— but.

Old habits die hard. 

.

Of course Justin’s father hears “the Starks are sending their seven-year-old heir to boarding school” and thinks “good idea, why didn’t I think of that?” 

Of course.

Of fucking course.

Steph had cried when they’d packed their things, and for that alone, Justin would never forgive their parents.

.

The other brats at boarding school are more invested in the Hammer-Stark rivalry than they are.

...this was going to be a long 9 years, wasn’t it.

.

One of the perks to going to one of the most elite boarding schools in the world was the options. Certainly, Justin doubted other places offered skiing and fencing and over eleven languages in their electives. 

Not that he was complaining: it was definitely a way to keep busy, certainly much better than the constant attempts at one-upmanship that came part and parcel with cramming the richest heirs, heiresses, and honest-to-goodness royalty in one place. 

At the end of the day, though, they were all kids. Bratty, entitled little shits who were still at the stage where they constantly went “my father will hear about this!” and Justin had way better things to do with his time than engage in those petty little playground attempts at power plays. 

So he dove into everything the school had to offer, bouncing from elective to elective like a ping pong ball, and trying not to think too hard as to why Spanish had come so easily to him, though he’d never studied it before— or why he’d felt a pang when the instructor had congratulated him on his accent. 

.

Somewhere down the line, Justin...kinda made a name for himself? Apparently?

Ugh, they’d never understand these people. 

.

Okay, so apparently he’d kinda become an older brother figure of sorts to the brats around here? Somehow? Even though he hadn’t exactly been planning on doing anything of the sort when he saw an underclassman struggling during practice, or stopped fights before they could start in the common room because he’d just sat down and didn’t have the patience to move all his stuff somewhere else to study.

Didn’t make sense to him, but apparently it was enough for some of the professors to write ���good leadership skills’ on his transcripts, so whatever.

As a bonus, it made his old man happy. Not that Justin gave a damn about what he thought about him personally, but the increase in his ‘allowance’ [it was in the triple digits, like hell he was calling it that] was nice.

.

Among the hobbies Justin bounced between, there were a few that raised more eyebrows than others.

Knitting, for instance, was something some of the more annoying brats liked to laugh about. They eased up when they found out he sent the scarves and hats he made to his little sister, but... eh, whatever. 

Sewing, too— apparently it was okay if it was framed as a Boy Scout-esque ‘know the basics so you can always be prepared!’ way, but the moment he did any sort of embroidery there went his respectability. 

Well, at least nobody gave him a hard time about cooking. But then, his chilaquiles had some of these guys’ eyes watering just from the smell of it, so. 

It still didn’t sit well with him sometimes— kinda like how puberty had Not Been Fun on a number on levels, but hey, if all else failed, he could just ignore it harder. 

It hadn’t failed him yet.

.

Stephanie insisted on going to boarding school with him when she got to the age he’d been shipped off at.

It was...nice, having his little sister around again. 

.

It was a good thing Justin had been okay with being designated the heir of Hammer Industries, because Steph was... exactly like he remembered her.

Cheerful, upbeat, startlingly devious and manipulative when she wanted to be, and just a tad bit spoiled.

...okay, so Justin had probably contributed a bit to that last one. In his defense, he’d been doing his best to shield his sister from the staggeringly high expectations he himself had to deal with, but look, he wanted at least one of them to have some semblance of a happy childhood, okay? 

Goodness knew he hadn’t [not this time, nor the last].

.

Stephanie wasn’t interested in the family business, was more interested in pursuing a career in the arts.

Justin, of course, encouraged her wholeheartedly.

Their parents weren’t entirely happy about it, but...wasn’t like they had much to complain about. Not when Justin was always in the top ten of his year, not when the professors practically gushed over his responsibility and work ethic. 

He was no Tony Stark, but he’d made a name for himself nonetheless.

.

“So, we’re supposed to be rivals?” The bane of his existence said once, at yet another gala. “Howard says so, anyway.”

“Seems that way,” Justin shrugged as they pilfered a flute from a nearby table, carefully not commenting on how he’d referred to his father by his first name. Talk about a strained relationship, right there.

“You’re not really acting like one.”

“Well,” Justin sipped at his flute before making a face when he discovered it was champagne and not apple cider like he’d hoped, “it’s nothing personal, just business. Healthy competition, y’know? Someone’s got to.”

Stark eyed him for a moment, before giving him a brilliant smile. “You know, I think I’d like that.” 

.

Justin would never, ever understand these people.

.

In the time Justin Hammer got his degree in business, Tony Stark got several Ph.Ds. 

Not that he envied him: the idea of being shoved into the limelight after losing his entire family? Hard pass.

.

For some reason, Tony Stark seemed to think they were friends.

Why.

Sure, Justin tried to be as cordial with him as he did with anyone else, but... how on Earth did that translate into being friends?

.

“You look at him like he’s a kid,” Steph says once, laughing, “you look at all of us that way, haven’t you noticed?”

“Well, to be fair—”

“You’re only a few years older than us, but you keep acting like you’re dad. More like a dad than our actual dad, sometimes,” her smile dropped for a moment, “don’t think I forgot that time he didn’t even call for your birthday.”

Justin made a face. “But what’s that got to do with anything?”

She sighed, then gave him a smile and a look he couldn’t decipher. “You’ll figure it out eventually.”

.

By the time Justin Hammer became the CEO of Hammer Industries, Tony Stark had held the same post in his company for over half a decade. 

Yet...well, something weird was going on.

Maybe it was because Justin’d had more time to prepare for the cutthroat world that was the defense industry, but— 

For some reason, he couldn’t help but think Tony was softer than he’d thought.

No-brainer contracts that would have been a cinch to broker, passed over simply because their distributors didn’t pass their incredibly high standards; buyers who wanted in, but whose past associations— very, very far in the past— meant SI didn’t even consider them. 

Justin couldn’t understand it. 

For someone in the industry, Stark’s morals were...unusual. Respectable, from one perspective, but remarkably naive from any self-respecting businessman who wanted to turn a profit. 

He was fairly certain the only reason Stark Industries was considered number one in the sector was because of the constant influx of new designs; they just were turning down too many contracts for him to consider otherwise. 

Sure, sometimes Hammer weapons found themselves in the wrong hands— much more often than Stark weapons, regrettably— but it was one of the hazards that came with the business. They’d both known it from the get-go; Stark weapons were considered the best for a reason, even though somewhere down the line, his company’d gotten a reputation for no-frills dependability and ruggedness to the point where unscrupulous individuals would do anything to get their hands on either. Wasn’t like there was anything they could do about it, not when money talked in ways laws didn’t.

Why Stark was so hung up over it, he just. Couldn’t wrap his head around.

.

Stark was proclaimed dead, and there was strong evidence to indicate the attackers had been using his guns.

...well, fuck.

.

“This is fine,” Justin muttered as his personal headache proceeded to come back from the dead only to say his company was going to stop doing the thing it was known for and making an ungodly mess in the stock market while at it, “it’s not like it affects me, anyway.”

.

Overnight, Hammer Industries became number one in the defense sector. 

Justin was not a happy camper about the spotlight.

Even more so, when he had to take additional measures so his sister could continue enjoy the privacy she’d had after pursuing her dreams as an artist because the press didn’t want to leave well enough alone.

.

“You know, you could’ve given me a warning.” Justin scowled when he saw Tony at the next gala.

“You handled it well enough, didn’t you?”

Ugh. 

His headache was back, and worst part was, the smile he got more than made up for it.

.

...and then I kinda ran out of steam.

tl;dr: MCU canon had Justin Hammer as a foil to Tony Stark, here their dynamic is more along the lines of Beethoven and Mozart [one really respecting the other’s genius, and working their butt off to get to that level of respectability and general acclaim].

in this AU, Stark Industries is kind of like Apple— very futuristic high-tech stuff, all the bells and whistles going on, etc, whereas Hammer Industries is the Nokia in this analogy: not fancy in the slightest but as close to indestructible as it gets. 

#No Hero [And Not Made Of Stone] #No Hero [Downward Descending] #My writing #character study of sorts #fic idea #fic ideas #3 am musings #kinda #also #does it count if said 'fic idea' is over 2k long?

[honey-dewey]

Lightning in a Bottle

Pairing: Trans Fem! Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels/GN! Reader

Word Count: 2,484 

Warnings: swearing, homophobia/transphobia, needles, hurt/comfort.

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell​

It is week three of pride month! This is the third set of prompts that came from @flightlessangelwings and @autumnleaves1991-blog​ Pride writing prompts! I’ve never written Trans Jack before, and while I would typically headcanon him as trans masc, I thought this would be fun instead. 

Prompts: Glitter and/or “I’ll always be by your side”

You sighed, settled at Jack’s vanity as you organized her makeup. She was a menace when it came to organization, and more often than not, you were the one lining her lipsticks up in front of the mirror and putting the eyeliner pens back in their cup. After two years, you’d think she’d get the hang of this, but you’d be wrong. Even when she was away, like she was now, she couldn’t bother to put anything where it went before she left. You put her brushes back in their proper place in a drawer, absently checking your phone for the time or a text. Jack was due home any minute now, and even though she hadn’t been away for long, her absence had affected you. 

The front door creaked open, and you perked up, turning in the vanity chair so you could pay attention to the sounds coming from downstairs. 

“Hey babe!” Jack’s voice filtered up the stairs, and you smiled, hearing her take her boots off downstairs. “I’m home!” 

Standing, you abandoned the mini project you’d been working on in favor of walking to the top of the stairs to watch Jack shimmy out of her coat and hang her hat up on top of the coat rack. She was a picture of beauty, her back to you as she loosened the top buttons of her shirt and rolled her sleeves up. Turning, she caught sight of you, her face pulling into a wide smile. “There’s my baby!” She said, running up the stairs until she was on the landing. “Come kiss me. I missed you.” 

You ran down the steps, crashing into Jack and wrapping her in a hug. She’d been gone for two days, out on a mission for work. It was only two days, but you’d been grouchier than usual for those two days, and all you wanted was Jack cuddles. “I missed you too baby.” 

Jack scooped you up, carrying you to the bedroom and plopping you down on the bed. As you laughed, Jack pulled her skirt and petticoat off, leaving her in shorts and her button up. You smiled, gesturing her close. Jack didn’t argue, crawling across the bed so she could rest her head on your chest. It took a minute to find the best spot that wouldn’t send any of your limbs to sleep, but when you did find it, you knew Jack wouldn’t be getting up for anything. 

“Did you have fun?” You asked, gently tugging Jack’s hair ties out and undoing her two braids. “Where’d they send you? Wasn’t it Montana again?” 

“It was,” Jack said, eyes closed as you combed through her curls with your fingers. “Still as beautiful as ever. I’m gonna take you for our honeymoon.” 

You chuckled, blinking slowly. “If we ever get married,” you finished. 

“We will,” Jack promised, reaching up and trapping one of your hands in hers. “We absolutely will.” 

Almost an hour passed while you and Jack cuddled, both of you nearly falling asleep until you remembered something. “Ah fuck,” you grumbled, untangling your limbs from Jack’s. “I have to run to the grocery store. I forgot to do it yesterday. I was so hectic with this work thing, and then you called to tell me you were coming home, and it completely slipped my mind.” As you rambled, you pulled on a neater shirt, looking around for your shoes. 

“Can I come?” Jack asked, rolling over and sitting up. 

“When am I ever going to say no to that?” You pointed out, picking up Jack’s skirt and tossing it at her. “But you should probably cover your ass.” 

Jack laughed, leaving her skirt on the bed in favor of scooping up a pair of shorts. She loosely tucked her shirt into her pants, piling her hair up into a claw clip and watching as you finally found your shoes. “Big trip or small trip?” She asked, tossing you a pair of socks. 

“Medium trip,” you said. “I don’t need a ton, mostly just stuff for dinner and the odd thing or two. So we can go to Sam’s.” 

Sam’s market was a tiny mom and pop grocery store that hadn’t changed in decades, but you adored it. It was a ten minute drive, and you and Jack were there in no time. 

“Fucking love this place,” Jack said happily, reaching out to pet Claire, one of the resident cows. “Reminds me of my dad’s ranch.” 

You nodded, grabbing a basket and entering the store. Jack followed, immediately detouring to the pharmacy. You stayed nearby, half listening as Jack picked up her estrogen and made her way back to you. 

“I hate those things,” Jack said, putting her prescription bag in your basket beside a bag of dried apple slices. “They’re super gross.” 

You smiled. “You don’t have to eat them,” you said, linking your arm with Jack’s. “But I like them.” 

The trip around the store was quick, and in no time, you were up at the counter. Sam, the owner, grinned when you two came up. “Haven’t seen you two in a while,” he said. “How’s work?” 

“Good,” Jack said. “Just got back from a business trip, actually. It’s why I’m late on my prescription.” 

“Ah,” Sam said, pulling the bag out of the basket. “Jen was wondering why you hadn’t picked it up yet. It’s all still working out for you?” 

Jack nodded, opening her mouth to say something before a loud snort came from behind her. She turned, and so did you. Behind you was a young man with his arms crossed, looking between the two of you with a grin. “Did I interrupt?” He said in a thick southern drawl. “I’m sorry.” 

“No,” Jack said, drawing herself up to her full height and raising an eyebrow. “Do you have something to say?” 

The man shook his head. “Not to you, you freak.” 

Jack blinked, stepping back a tiny bit. She’d been passing consistently ever since her hair got long and she started to hit what she called second puberty, and it was rare anyone was able to tell right off the bat that she wasn’t a biological woman. You stepped in front of her, shielding her from the man. “You leave my girlfriend alone.” 

“That ain’t a girl,” the man jeered. “That’s a man in a skirt.” 

Your jaw clenched, and you were two seconds from punching the man square in the jaw when Sam stepped in. 

“Here are your purchases,” he said, handing you a bag. “And you,” he turned to the man. “Need to leave if you’re going to be harassing my loyal customers like that.” 

Jack gripped your hand as you quietly pulled her towards the truck. She was dead silent as you put your bag in the backseat and slumped over the steering wheel. “You okay?” You asked softly, not wanting to startle Jack. 

She shook her head, wiping away tears with the back of her hand. “I just wanna go home,” she said thickly, voice wavering. 

It took all of your willpower not to pull over when Jack’s crying didn’t stop, and when you were finally home, you immediately closed the distance between you and Jack, holding her tight against you. She collapsed into your arms, burying her face in your shoulder and sobbing. You rubbed her back, silently curing the man in the store. 

“Jack?” You said, still holding Jack close. “You know I love you, right? No matter what.” 

“But-“ 

“No.” You pulled away, putting your hands on Jack’s shoulders and making her look at you. “No! I love you, no ifs, ands, or buts. I will always be by your side Jack. I don’t care who you are or what you look like. I love you for you.” 

Jack bowed her head, face hidden by her hair. “You’re sure?” She asked, voice so small you almost didn’t hear her. 

“I’m sure,” you said. “C’mon, let’s go inside. It’s more comfortable than the bench seat of your old ass truck.” 

Jack stood, following you into the house. She trudged up the stairs, still holding your hand as she went. When you dropped the grocery bag by the bedroom door and tugged Jack inside, she didn’t protest, only looked at you, slightly confused. 

“I was going to wait until your birthday, because I know Statesman insists on that huge birthday gala for you,” you said, sitting Jack in her vanity. “But I think you should have this now.”

Jack watched you enter your closet, growing more confused by the second. “What is it?” 

“Close your eyes,” you said, grabbing a hangar. “It’s a surprise!” 

When you peeked out of the closet, Jack had her hands over her eyes, waiting patiently. You hung the hangar on the back of the closet door, smoothing out the garment and moving to stand behind Jack. You took her wrists gently in your hands, smiling. “Ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be,” Jack said, leaning back against your chest. 

You pulled Jack’s hands off her eyes. She gasped almost immediately, seeing the intricate and gorgeous dress hanging in front of her. 

“Happy early birthday,” you said. “I had Ginger help me with things like measurements, but it’s 100% custom made. I figured since you didn’t have a dress for your birthday party, I could get you one. What do you think?” 

Jack was speechless, turning around to hug you. “I love it,” she said, voice tight with emotion. “It’s perfect.” 

You smiled, kissing Jack’s cheek. “Every woman should have a fancy evening dress that makes her feel like royalty. Wanna try it on?” 

Jack was incredibly eager to put the dress on. You ushered her into the bathroom, carrying the dress and handing it to her as she ducked behind a privacy divider. 

“Oh my god!” You heard her say after you heard the zipper pulling shut. “It fits perfectly!” 

“Do you want shoes?” You asked, still not peeking around the divider. 

Jack was quiet for a minute. “Yeah. Those white ones.” 

You knew exactly what she was talking about and grabbed the aforementioned white shoes. Handing them to Jack, you waited while she finished getting dressed, barely managing to contain your patience. When you finally heard her heels on the tile, you looked up, fully breathless as Jack stepped out from behind the divider. 

She was gorgeous. The dress hugged her in all the right places, conforming to the curve of her waist and the slope of her hips as if it were a second skin. The heart shaped neckline and thin straps showed off what you and Ginger had both agreed was a very professional amount of skin, but still enough to make Jack feel sexy. The top of the dress was beaded with shimmering beads, each one catching the light and making Jack seem positively radiant. Even with minimal makeup and her hair haphazardly tossed up, she was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. 

“Oh Jack,” you said, standing in front of her. “I don’t- I can’t. You look. I don’t even have the words to say how beautiful you are.” 

Jack smiled, swishing the dress. “I love it,” she said softly. “Thank you. I feel like a princess.” 

“You look like a queen,” you breathed, putting your hands on Jack’s sides. “God above you look stunning.” 

You two stood there for a while, just holding each other, until Jack pulled away to take the dress off. You watched her go, silently gathering her pyjamas, knowing she’d want them. When you were done, you headed out of the bedroom, intent on putting away the groceries that had been left out in your eagerness to show Jack her dress. 

Jack came trailing down the stairs after ten minutes, wearing her Hello Kitty pyjama pants and an old Statesman distillery shirt that was a size too big. You kissed her and handed her a bag of apples as she entered the kitchen. “Put these away please?”

“Sure thing,” Jack said, moving around you to put the apples in the fruit bowl. “Can you grab my medicine?” 

You reached around Jack and grabbed her estrogen bottle and a syringe. She hopped up on the counter, tugging up one of her pant legs to give you easier access to her thigh. After having been shot multiple times, often fatally, needles were something Jack didn’t even blink at. Giving Jack her estrogen had been something you’d had to work up to in the first year, but now you could do it with ease. 

“Ready?” You asked, holding up the syringe. “Three, two,” you pushed the syringe into Jack’s leg. “One!” 

Jack made a face at you as you disposed of the syringe and pressed a Disney princess bandaid to the tiny puncture wound. “Your bedside manor is horrible. Could’ve at least waited until you said one to stick me.” 

You laughed. “You say that every time!” You said, taking Jack’s hands and helping her off the counter. “Bake Off or Friends?” 

“Can we watch Friends?” Jack asked eagerly, following you to the couch and grabbing the TV remote. “I’m in the mood to laugh.” 

“We can watch Friends,” you said, snuggling up next to Jack. “I’ll never say no to Friends.” 

While Jack cued up the show, you fell against her shoulder, already feeling sleepy. In a few hours, you’d have to get up and make dinner, and Jack probably had a report to write on her mission, but for now, it was completely calm in the house.

At some point during the second episode you watched, you must’ve fallen asleep, because one minute, you were sleepily watching Friends, and the next, you were opening your eyes to Jack holding two bowls of her famous cowboy mac-and-cheese. You sat upright, accepting the bowl with a small pout. “I was gonna make dinner.” 

“But you didn’t,” Jack pointed out, sitting beside you and taking a bite. “I swear, this gets better and better the more I make it.” 

“Don’t tell Tequila,” you said. “He would kill a man for this bowl of food.” 

Jack laughed. “He would,” she agreed. “Did you have a good day today?” 

“My girlfriend came home,” you said sweetly. “Of course I had a good day. What about you?” 

“Hm,” Jack hummed, pretending to think. “Well, I got to see my beautiful partner again, so that was good. But then a raging asshole yelled at me, and that was bad. But the dress made up for it, so all in all, a good day.” 

You smiled, leaning against Jack and gesturing to the TV. “I’m glad you had a good day. More Friends to finish it off?” 

“You know me so well,” Jack said happily, taking the remote again. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” you said, turning your attention mostly to the TV. “No matter what.”

#Kingsman #kingsman the golden circle #agent whiskey #jack 'whiskey' daniels #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing #writer wednesday #jey's pride celebration 2k21

[fandomqueen74]

Princess

“Whatever, princess” “Stop calling me that” “Make me”

Reader x Jason Todd

A/N: this wasn’t requested, but I just haven’t written for Jason in a long time and honestly I just love writing for him. Its because I wrote about Dick earlier this that I was craving Jason, so enjoy!

“Hey dad” (Y/n) Wayne smiled, kissing her fathers cheek as she scanned the crowd around them. A few cameras flashed, but she somehow managed to not roll her eyes at them. 

“You look lovely tonight (y/n), new dress?” Bruce smiled warmly, twirling me as a few more cameras flashed. Tim and Dick needed a distraction for the night and her dad had stressed how important it was that the Annual Wayne Foundation Gala was on the front page of every Gotham magazine and newspaper tomorrow morning. 

“Always” Batman and the batfamily had been in the papers too much in the past month and Gordon was begging to threaten investigating batman if they didn’t stop making such a mess. As much as he appreciated their work he still had to look like a good cop.

“Batman come in, we have a problem” Dick’s voice came over the coms and caused both Bruce and (y/n) to go rigid for a moment. Bruce was the first one to recover as Jason’s hand landed on his shoulder reminding the pair they weren’t alone in the batcave and couldn’t just throw on their suits to help.

“I’ll entertain the princess Bruce, go” Jason nodded towards (y/n) a frown pressing to (y/n)’s lips as she glared at Jason for the nickname. 

“Thank you Jason, keep the press guessing (y/n)” Bruce brushed past the pair, moving quickly through the crowd, but not so much that he drew attention. A smile returned to (y/n)’s lips as she looked over the crowd again. Many people smiled back at her, some giving a nod or a wave, and (y/n) watched as their attention would then turn to Jay and they would quickly look away. This continued for several minutes until (y/n) sighed, pulling a champagne fluke off a waiter’s tray.

“You know, people might actually come talk to us if you stopped glaring at everyone” (Y/n) examined Jason from next to him, leaning lightly against the wall. He cleaned up well and would only come to a few galas because he insisted the majority were beyond pointless for him since he was technically dead.

“Now why would I want to talk with stuffy strangers princess?” Jason smirked, turning to face (Y/n) and leaning against the wall with one shoulder. His gaze made (y/n)’s skin felt like it was on fire. She shifted slightly before chugging her drink and setting it on another passing waiters tray. She waited a second more before stepping away from the wall and towards the crowd.

“Woah, woah, woah where are you going?” Jason’s hand wrapped lightly, but firmly around (y/n)’s bicep, stopping her in her tracks. 

“To dance, its my job to dazzle the crowd remember?” (Y/n) spun around, annoyed and blowing a stray hair out of her face. 

“Who were you going to go dance with? You can’t exactly dance by yourself” Jason raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms in front of his chest, both of them no longer caring about the crowd.

“The new senator, I talked with him at an art gala a few weeks ago, he’s easy on the eyes” (Y/n) smiled, turning back to the crowd and sending a small wave to the senator himself just to prove her point.

“Yeah no, that’s not happening” Jason scoffed, once again grabbing (y/n)’s arm and now practically dragging (y/n) to the middle of the dance floor now. People jumped out of their way, a few apologizing, a few cursing and others giving them dirty looks.

“Jason! What are you doing?” (Y/n) hissed doing her best not to step on anyone's feet as they moved through the crowd.

“You wanted to dance princess, we’re going to dance” Jason huffed his hand falling to the small of (y/n)’s back and his other hand wrapping around her much smaller one. He began guiding her effortless through the dance floor and the song. It was no secret that Jason was a good dancer, but right now with his hand burning through the fabric of (y/n)’s dress all she wanted to do was run away.

“Who said I wanted to dance with you” (Y/n) glared at Jason, trying to find anywhere to look but his piercing eyes but unfortunately the idiot was holding her too close and took up almost all of her vision.

“Oh you wound me” Jason mocked, a laugh low in his chest barely even audible. He leaned even closer though, whispering into (y/n)’s ear as he glared at the senator over (y/n)’s shoulder. “but I meet your low criteria. If the only reason you were going to dance with that ass wipe was because he was easy on the eyes”

“And who said you were easy on the eyes?” (Y/n) reeled back, having to lean far away in order to glare properly as the ever smug man.

“The multitude of girls at my apartment would” Jason smirked, somehow pulling them even closer, yet still not close enough.

“Gross” (Y/n) made a face. She didn’t want that image in her mind.

“Whatever princess” Jason chuckled, (y/n) could feel his laugh due to their closeness. She hated it. She hated that stupidly innocent nick name.

“Stop calling me that” (Y/n) hissed, the name was derogatory, it was as if Jason was always calling her a little girl.

“Make me” Jason’s smirked down at (y/n) and it made her blood boil. Someone had to knock this cocky man down a peg and it might as well be her. She began to slap him, but before she could make contact Jason’s hand wrapped around her wrist.

“Careful... hate for that to be on the cover and not the touching picture of you and Bruce” Jason keep his voice low and something had changed in his eyes. His normally piercing blue eyes were much darker and it sent a shiver down her spine.

“Let go of me” (Y/n) tried pulling her wrist away from Jason, but he simply moved his hand back to the small of her back. Her arm trapped on the inside of his, but it wasn’t noticeable to anyone else.

“Are you going to try to slap me again?” Jason’s words were sharp, but there was no malice behind them. It was almost a challenge.

“Depends are you going to stop calling me princess?” (Y/n) struggled with her locked arm. It wasn’t comfortable and people were beginning to notice their compromising situation.

“I haven’t been proven otherwise, you slapping me doesn’t disprove anything” Jason let go of (Y/n)’s wrist and for a split second she considered slapping him again, but thought better of it, placing her hand on his shoulder instead.

“What would then?” Her eyes met Jason’s, they were still darker than normal, but now for some reason it almost sent a chill of excitement down her spine. 

“One story, one action, showing me you aren’t Bruce’s perfect little infuriating princess whose too innocent for Gotham therefore Gotham must become better for her” Jason’s voice was low and (y/n)’s ear and it finally clicked. This time it was her turn to drag him out of the crowd, the paparazzi be damned. They had plenty for the night and the gala would be over soon anyway.

“(Y/n), what are you doing?” Jason’s mind finally caught up to him when (y/n) pulled him into a side room, it was a small living space with a couch and a tv and a few chairs, but what really brought him to the moment was (y/n) locking the door.

“You said one action Jason. Let me show you I’m not some little princess” (Y/n) pushed Jason onto the couch, her fingers nimbly, undoing his jacket as he flopped down, all of his strength and cockiness suddenly being stripped away.

“(Y/n) you don’t have to do this, I get it” Jason’s eyes went wide as his hands now found her waist, helping her to sit in his lap, but it was clear to him he no longer had any control. In the gala (y/n) might have to play Gotham’s charming little princess, but alone, she played no one but herself.

“Do you not want me to do this?” (Y/n)’s straddled Jay’s waist, the question a formality as she began to put the years of teasing together in her mind. Between his always sarcastic remarks and burning touches it all made sense now.

“It doesn’t matter what I want, it matters that you don’t feel obligated to do this” Jason began to regret his words slightly. He had told (y/n) to prove she wasn’t innocent and so far she had done more than he had expected or imagined, and she’d barely even done anything.

“Jason has anyone told you how sexy you look in a tux...” (Y/n) smirked, her lips kissing lightly on Jay’s jaw line, just under his ear. Her fingers were working quickly to undo his tie. “When your hair is messed up...” (Y/n)’s lips kissed next to Jay’s lips. He was dead, he was so dead. “Your collar unbuttoned and the tie undone” (Y/n) planted a kiss on Jay’s Adam's apple, looking up at the man through her eyelashes.

“Fucking christ woman” Jason groaned, picking (y/n) up as she giggled slightly. As much as he wanted this to happen he still wanted it to be done right. He raced the pair of them to (y/n)’s room, her door slamming behind them.

“No Jay, I’m a fucking princess, remember that” (Y/n) fell on her bed, her hands working towards her zipper, but all Jay knew right then was that he was never forgetting tonight.

Bonus: 

The morning after the gala, every newspaper and magazine was covered with various pictures of Bruce and (Y/n) on the cover of them, all detailing the gala. The night had only had one minor hitch, but the payoff had been more than expected and that was why Bruce was in an extra cheerful mood as he knocked on his daughter’s door. 

“(Y/n) sweetheart, I brought you one of the magazines from last night, its honestly a great picture and...” Bruce trailed off. He had heard a thud and a ‘shit’ followed by someone else shushing another person as someone scrambled around the room. It took him a moment more to recognize the voices before he threw open the door to find Jason standing in his little girls room, pants barely on and all his other clothing thrown around in the room.

“Dad!” (Y/n) yelled sitting bolt right up. She had a shirt on, thank the lord.

“JASON GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE RIGHT NOW!” Bruce bellowed, storming a the man who had a boyish smirk on his face even as he climbed out (y/n)’s window. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he didn’t really care.

“I’ll call you later (y/n)” Jason winked before closing the window behind him, running to god knows where. Bruce turned to look at (y/n), ready to lecture her, but instead tossed the magazine next to her on the bed, before running out himself. (Y/n) sunk into the bed, her face red, but her attention drawn to her phone where a text had popped up on her screen from Dick.

Wanna tell me what that was about? The text read with a picture of a half naked Jason running on their roof away from (y/n)’s window.

#Jason Todd #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood smut #red hood x reader #father!bruce #father!batman #brother!Dick #brother!nightwing #dc #DC comics #batfamily #batboys #batboys smut #batboys x reader

[elliotfm]

hey guys ! i’m jules and i’m super excited to open; i have two super clingy cats in case any of you ever need a visual pick-me-up, i’m a uni student in canada and a Big skincare and dark chocolate junkie, more than likely gonna be typing replies while indulging in either jsyk ! i tried to keep it short since i’m a rambly bitch, but links to elliot’s basic stats and her wc page will be up soon — though i have some under the read more — as well as a playlist whenever i find the energy to set it up here FLDKSJGSD also pardon the lack of theme, i forgot the url for the preview and code link for the one i wanted to use but i’ll have it figured out shortly ! anyways, without further ado:

◤  *  kim doyeon  ;  twenty-one  ;  cis female  ;  she/her  —  is  that  who  i  think  it  is  over  there  ?  outer  banks  very  own  kook  ,  elliot hong  .  makes  sense  ‘cause  i  can  practically  hear  into it  by  chase atlantic  blasting  through  their  headphones  .  plus  who  else  would  you  find  out  at  the boneyard  right  now  ?  some  say  they're  pretty  astute  ,  but  it's  the  imperious  reputation  i'd  watch  out  for  .  i  wonder  if  they're  still  a student / heiress  and  obsessing  about  keeping  up  with  their  bongs, random shoes and empty bottles of dom on the living room floor  &  a bite as big as her bark  vibe  .  [  ooc  ;  jules/21+/nt/she/her  ]

tw: drug and alcohol mention

the middle child of her parents, elliot is the fourth of her father’s five children

her mother is his second ( now ex — ) wife, though they remain cordial and have since moved on

grew up with a silver spoon, her dad being a wall street giant who would split his time between nyc and, once upon a time, connecticut — though it ultimately became a back-and-forth from nyc and the outer banks when elle was about four

her mother was adopted into an old money family ( on the lower end of that group ) in charlotte when she was a baby and had become something of a socialite when young, but shifted to becoming an entrepreneur. of what ?? i still haven’t figured that out LFJDGS

has a half-sister and half-brother from her dad’s first marriage, tallulah ( aka tally, a pain in my ass over on my indie fdlkjgs ) and bennett, and is basically a mini tally as all she really had were brothers and was Attached to her big sis whenever she’d visit

and as for her older and younger brother..... they might be wcs soon enough so we’ll leave that be for now DFLSGKJ

now onto ELLE ! she was the princess of the younger three hong kids, like the apple of her mother’s eye and her father’s Biggest tormentor

aka would hog the phone whenever he couldn’t come home for the night to tell him good night, hounded him to read her bedtime stories, pretty much always got her way in the most wholesome way when she was a kid

like i said before, moved to the obx when she was four because her mom used to visit when she was a kid and loved it; it was also due to its convenience in seeing her maternal grandparents regularly, its quieter nature in comparison to the affluent hubs for businessmen outside of manhattan and just in general

her dad just went along because it’s what his wife wanted and fuck it, at least the kids wouldn’t hound them to take them to places beyond their urban surroundings as often DLSFJDS

growing up, she wasn’t Too much of a brat but liked having the spotlight on her — she’d accredit it to tally’s influence AND her parents caving to her whims more often than not — and was very sociable and respectful even back in primary school

LOVED to explore, and, while not a tomboy per se, would take part in some activities her brothers or other boys in her grade participated in; be it to bond, trail along her siblings’ every move because she didn’t wanna stray far from action, or to prove that she can hold her own, she’d do it

uhhh overall a cute, if not high-maintenance, kid, but her teen years ?? yikes, people would be in for a ride bc this is when she REALLY started to emulate tally and shift her boldness towards riskier shit

basically could’ve been a main character on outer banks itself with her reckless antics and partying as a teenager…. and now, even SGDLKF

could’ve been considered a typical kook, save for her wild streak; she could hang with the pogues and wouldn’t let her slight superiority complex come into play unless she was challenged or something, otherwise she’d chase the party and the fun wherever she could find it

loves fashion and being the hottest in the room, didn’t need to step on toes to get further but would do so at times Solely to make a point/to call someone out on their shit

is now attending columbia u, rather she’s taking a Break as she makes sure she’s content with the path she’s taking ( aka being the trashy 21 year old she wants to be, chilling at the family home with just her siblings and daddy’s money with no Major worries involving the near future )

isn’t the most studious person, but she’d gotten far enough to begin wrapping up her major whenever she decides to head back

though.. the entire time has been mostly spent sleeping with some of her rich friends, drinking and smoking pot, with the occasional hit of whatever clean enough drug that one of her friends had on them

also spent a lot of her time meeting up with her socialite big sis as a plus one to some cooler events, so while she’s not famous, her name has made the rounds where it matters given her surname’s already established relevance in nyc

when she’s not getting an education and is homebound instead, she’s pissing off her neighbours with her house parties at the family home on the beach, doing dumb shit the second she’s inside of a gala or club — albeit with partial discretion that’s completely ignored whenever around other young adults — and just chilling poolside and staying hydrated fgkldjsg

personality and shit

if i were to use a label to describe her, she'd be a mix between the princess/baby doll, the hedonist and the reveller i think ?? i don’t even know where to place her LKSDFGJLK

self-confidence is through the roof, KNOWS she’s pretty and doesn’t really let rumours or negativity get her down — aside from wanting to unleash hell if someone keeps irritating her for whatever reason

she’s messy as hell, but around the uptight, live-through-your-kids parents of kooklandia she puts on the façade of a poised young woman who has Some fun because she knows it bodes well.. only even then, she doesn’t maintain it bc honestly, who cares —

she’s not a complete dick per se, but she can be snide and boastful when provoked

has something of a superiority complex, independent and lives lavishly with reckless abandon

non-committal yet sensible when it comes to who she sleeps with; typically has a couple of stable fuck buddies but has had some one night stands if she’s feeling it

keeps her true inner circle small, but gets off on attention and likes to stay cordial with some people, so she’s got quite a few friends all the same

like i said earlier, will hang with the pogues and thinks the whole class rivalry thing is kind of stupid when it means sticking with her own would mean dealing with parent pleasers, polo shirt enthusiasts and either being too straight-laced or too destructive for her liking

.. so she’s a far cry from her sister in that regard, otherwise rip GLSKJ

though that doesn’t stop her from unleashing her pompous attitude onto a pogue when it seems appropriate, aka doing anything to piss her off

there really isn’t much to expand on tbh, though i will say that her emboldened nature and need for a good time however she can get it comes out more than her uglier side ( except her vanity. that’ll never go away KSFDG )

some quick plot ideas

a childhood friend or two, pretty standard idea there

could carry over into a trio type of thing depending on where she stands with either of them, or they’re a different couple of pals she’s made over the years

family friends, aka nyc kids or people who’ve rubbed elbows with either of elle’s parents, though they don’t Actually have to be friends of course JGDSFKL

her best friend and confidante, someone she can have cute moments with between the chaos and one of the few people that elle would probably accost someone for if they hurt the other in any way

enemies are always fun ! probably rooted in a competitive streak more than anything else but i’m all ears for a more complex reason

ex-hookup(s), current hookup(s), throw it all at me klgfjd

a hateship/ewb would be fun with her too, oh my god sfdgklj

FAKE FRIENDS !! either in the past or currently, probably stayed friends for the sake of their appearances but have a lot of quiet disdain for each other — though elliot wouldn’t be too bothered by that situation beyond being around someone she deems soul-sucking, face value hype and knowing they probably need her more than she needs them gives her too much satisfaction fkskgls

an ex-something, open to anyone. either someone her parents forced on her to straighten her out a tad that she wound up liking…. after a good period of her telling them to fuck off sdglk or someone she’d been seeing for a while at her own accord, likely someone her parents wouldn’t approve of so readily. would’ve ended the same way: with her calling it off because she didn’t want to settle down, not even for a relationship ( and perhaps bc she’s scared of commitment with her cracked family dynamic that’s been a thing since birth, but that’s another story jsdfkg )

or we can just as easily do high school exes who only really stayed together until graduation bc their parents were being Some level of overbearing with how they’d be such a good couple — not that there was nothing there, just nothing beyond sex and being some kind of status symbol to each other, idk lfkgsd

her designated event pals would be super fun ?? sdgkflj like they go to all of these big parties and galas with their families, break off to do their own thing bc those events are boring as fuck, and head back to her place before she throws an after-party of sorts. they’d be decent friends beyond this though, them being someone she trusts a good bit compared to others in her circle

#╰ 💎 . ❪ 𝐖𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍' 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐒 ↝ jules talks ｡ #outertmintro #tw drugs #tw alcohol #now that that's done i can get some water bc i'm Parched FGDSJKL

[priscillvs]

my dudes & dudettes ! it is i, ur fav local clown & matcha stan mila coming at u w/ another muse ! under the cut u will find more info abt my beautiful lil baby . imma try to keep it relatively short & sweet , but u know ... i never keep my promises :-) anyways ! give this a like & i’ll come to u with a dumb joke & some plots !  🤡

chicago's very own priscilla visser has been spotted on madison avenue driving an aston martin rapide, welcome ! your resemblance to gigi hadid is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twenty third birthday bash . while living in nyc ,  you’ve been labeled as scornful , but also steadfast . i guess being a virgo explains that . 3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be statement rings , random bouquets on the nightstand , lipstick imprints on a wine glass . ( i am adopted & i know who my real parents are, but i hate them for giving me up for adoption. )  &  ( cisfemale & she / her ) 

𝒊.  𝒕𝒉𝒆  𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒔

name : priscilla fleur visser

nickname/s : cilla , pris , prissie

age : twenty - three

pronouns : she / her

gender : cisgendered female

sexuality : bisexual / biromantic

positive traits : steadfast , independent , self-motivated , thoughtful

negative traits : scornful , selfish , fussy , judgemental

aesthetics : statement rings , random bouquets on the nightstand , lipstick imprints on a wine glass , candle light in the night , roaring 20s

𝒊𝒊.  𝒕𝒉𝒆  𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚

fashion  inspo  : victoria beckham , alexa chung ,  chiara ferragni , olivia palermo

career  inspo : franca sozzani , anna M-FUCKING wintour !!!! , anna dello russo , carine roitfield

likes : her vintage rings , yoga classes , fresh berries , fashion shows & galas , giving back , orchids , statement shoes , being around others , baking , throwing parties , peppermint scented sweets , old hollywood movies 

dislikes : not getting attention , impulsive decision , being late , red wine , not taking care of herself , campfires , mess all over the place , loud voices , excessive cussing

𝒊𝒊𝒊.  𝒕𝒉𝒆  𝒃𝒊𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒉𝒚

so ! priscilla is v heavily based on franca sozzani who imo is a goddamned legend ( if u haven’t heard about her , she was an editor-in-chief of vogue italia for almost 30 yrs & in addition to that she was contributing to a number of charities & speaking abt different issues even thru the covers - this one is a good example of that ! )

she was born in chicago to a couple of college students , however , before the girl could even turn three months old , her parents realised they didn’t have the means to properly raise her. so at the tender age of only a few months the baby moved to the big apple !

she got adopted into a family of josephine and elijah visser ( a dutch supermodel back in the day & a famous actor ) , who spoiled the girl rotten w/ love & affection

she literally got everything she wanted . studying in the best schools ? sure ! travelling the world as a teen ? u got it ! a new pair of jimmy choos ? will be delivered in 15 ! & so on ... 

though this should’ve turned her into some spoiled lil bich , she chose to repay her parents’ kindness - she studied two times harder than anyone else , worked three times harder to get into a good uni & used every single opportunity to get into a place she is in atm

& currently my sweet baby priscilla has just become an editor-in-chief @ vogue us ! v young , v intimidated , BUT VERY EXCITED ! bc fashion is her entire life ; she’s studied journalism back @ columbia , started attending fashion show back when she was a teen & even dabbles in modeling sometimes - but her real passion lies within writing about the trends & setting them

𝒊𝒗.   𝒕𝒉𝒆  𝒑𝒍𝒐𝒕𝒔

a sibling plot ? p sure she has an adoptive sibling ( though, a younger one ) , who doesn’t even know priscilla is adopted . pris, josephine & elijah have chosen to keep this secret between the three of them purely bc the girl was never meant to find of abt being adopted in the first place

obv best friend plot DUH

a roommate ? pris def cannot live alone to save her life , if u want a roommate who’s gonna be spending 20hrs a day at work & coming home late at night , then she’s ur girl

also ! a fun thing ! back when priscilla was a lil romance obsessed bub , she found a boy ... long story short , this relationship got so out of hand that ... priscilla ended up married at the tender age of 20 ... however both of them quickly realised that this is a MISTAKE ™ but tbh who knows what’s between the two atm ...

career related plots ? rivals ? colleagues ?

U NAME IT , I WANT IT :-)

#wealthyhq:intro #if this looks like trash ... that bc it is & i have no desire to drive back home to get my laptop out & format this properly ....

[itsbuckysworld]

HELLO SPRING DAY 6

Pairing: Teacher!Bucky x Teacher!Reader Category: Teacher AU! Warnings: fluff bomb! Two idiots in love acting like preteens with crushes. Word Count: 2K i went sooo ham. Guest Appearance: Steef and Sammy

Summary: It’s picture day at their Middle School. Mr. Barnes is wearing his best definitely not to impress Ms. Y/L/N, and Ms. Y/L/N is wearing her best, definitely not to impress Mr. Barnes.

Day 6: Photograph, for my Spring Short Story Writing Event

YOUR OUTFIT \\\ /// MR.BARNES

Bucky fixed his small bowtie with a wide grin as he looked at the kids walking in, being dropped off by smiley parents, and wearing their absolute best. It was picture day at St. George’s Middle School, and his class had won both first and second place at the state science fair, so besides taking individual photos, the kids had earned their own page on the yearbook, a photo congratulating their success and their teachers’ as well, so he’d insisted they come dressed to the nines and ready to have fun, promising them he would come in his best outfit as well.

He got chuckles and comments from Sam and Steve, his coworkers, when he walked into the teacher’s room early that morning in search for coffee, but he kindly reminded them that only teachers with award winning classes got to dress as fancy as him. “Ya sure that’s the only reason you’re spiffed up as if you’re going to the met gala?” Steve commented with a slight raise of his eyebrow, half ignoring Sam’s confused glance at his choice of words. “Spiffed up, it means well-dressed” “Don’t use complex words in front of Wilson, you know how he gets” Bucky mocked, trying to avert the focus of the conversation off of him. “I understood, what I don’t understand is why you and Y/N haven’t jumped each other bones yet”

Ah there it was, Bucky rolled his eyes over the rim of his coffee mug.

Y/N the newest addition to St. George’s teacher council, a science teacher, been there for a little over a year and had already won his kids the top spots at the competition last month by being the catalyst for their newfound love for science. Ever since she had accidentally spilt her coffee all over him during a lunch period, back when she was only two months into teaching at this school, Bucky had been smitten, but that’s something he didn’t want anyone to know, more specifically Steve or Sam. So he evaded every Y/N talk with his two friends, at all costs.

Except Steve could read him too well, and he wasn’t able to keep the secret from Sam, who wasn’t blind either, and so the teasing was always present. Specially when he was so easy to read, exiting the teacher’s room as soon as her name was mentioned, setting way to greet his students coming in.

Was he extra dolled up for his photo with both his class and Y/N? Maybe, but he was not going to admit it out loud.

“Good morning Mr. Barnes!” claimed little Harrison, giving him a high-five as he was coming in. Bucky was just finishing answering the young boy when he heard Steve call his name barely above a whisper from down the hall. His blue eyes shot up, only to find his childhood best friend using his head to point not so discreetly to his right. As Bucky straightened up and looked, his breath was knocked out of his lungs.

There you were, coming in the school grounds with your books clutched tight to your chest, the characteristic blue pen you always kept behind your ear. Your blouse was adorned with butterflies, much like the ones fluttering in his tummy, a flowy summery yellow skirt complementing the outfit and you looked so young and bright and beautiful that he’s sure his heart is not going to be able to contain itself in his chest.

You walk down the hall, wiggling your fingers in his direction as a hello, and giving him your brightest smile. It’s not until you’re almost walking right past him that he shakes his head and blurts out an excited “Hi! Morning!” to you. Your giggle is like music to his ears and watching your figure walk away down the hall is all he can do – that and try not to drool – as he sees the swish of the skirt with each step you take, your hair free and bouncy as you say hello to everyone you encounter down the hallway. His eyes meet Steve’s knowing ones when he stops looking at your distant frame, and he’s smacked back to reality, clearing his throat and shrugging at Steve – as if saying “pshh, I was not staring at her, im totally cool” – and fleeing his best friend’s intense stare when the bell rings.

He has the reddest cheeks when he begins his morning announcements.

Steve and Sam’s banter doesn’t end, it only resumes as they stand in line waiting to get their picture taken for the yearbook, it only subsides when you walk in and join them, talking about anything and everything. Even though they are not verbal about his huge crush on you, he can feel it in their glances and their inside jokes that keep coming up now and then. His contributions to the conversation are minimal and space-y. It’s difficult to make whole sentences when you’re around. How did he become a teacher again? He’s supposed to know how to fucking talk. “Now best dressed award goes to you Y/N” Sam implies, smiling over at Bucky all too knowingly. You blush slightly and laugh, fanning your face jokingly. “Why thank you, Mr. Wilson” “Looking to impress anyone?” Steve continues and it takes everything in Bucky not to step on his friend’s foot and shut him up. “Hmmm, maybe, maybe not” you say and the glance you give Bucky has his mind reeling. Did that mean anything? No way, no fucking way. He stammers, but the coy glance is over before he can fully register what just happened. “We’ll see” you say and walk over to the table with refreshments to get yourself a bottle of water.

He can’t get it any harder even if he tried. You already had your photo taken and of course you look amazing in it – he has yet to see it, but he just knows – and now here you were making light conversation with him as you waited for the kids to take their photo. You don’t have to, but you like his company and he’s weak at the knees when you tell him so, thinking back to that look you spared him. He really does try his best to maintain a logical conversation that doesn’t showcase how lovestruck he is over you, but it’s so damn hard. He’s sure he’s complimented your outfit a good three times in the course of the day, but each time he does, he wins one of your giggles and it’s worth it. He also takes note that you didn’t giggle the same way when Sam had told you you looked cute and he has to almost slap himself to not look too much into it.

His class walks in, all of them in an organized line, all prim and proper, two of them holding onto the trophies they had snatched and it feels his heart with pride. You grab his arm and squeal, equally happy they’ve done such an amazing job, and his heart flutters in his chest. That’s got to be some medical condition he needs to get checked, but at the same time, you two look like proud parents at their kid’s graduation and the image doesn’t go over his head.

Breathe Bucky. Breathe, he tells himself as the two of you stand behind the posing kids, shoulder to shoulder and you decide to wrap your arm around his for the photo. “Mr. Barnes should hold the trophy for one photo!” one of the children says and he’s quick to retract. “No, no. This is all your effort. If anything, Ms. Y/L/N should hold one” your hand tugs at his when he finishes his sentence that has caused the kids to debate up a storm on which adult should hold what. He looks back at you. “No no. I agree with Mr. Barnes” you say and he’s always adored how you say his last name, probably more than when you call him by his first. “The trophy is yours guys” “Miss, we want you to hold it for a photo, you too Mr. Barnes” Morgan, one of the preppiest and smartest in the group speaks over everyone else, and they all agree as they place one of the trophies in Bucky’s hand, the other on yours.

You give him a shrug and a quick wink, and all he can do is stare with a dumb grin on his face, but you’re looking right back at him and he really likes it. He could look at you for hours, his eyes dancing over your features, memorizing them, appreciating them. “Could we get the teachers looking at the camera?” the photographer adds, snapping you out of your trance, getting you to turn to look at the camera. He stammers and chuckles nervously through an apology, and your giggle is in his ear, causing him to have trouble breathing.

He’s got a tight grip on your hand as he helps you down the stacks placed to organize the kids on the frame and not have anyone covered by someone taller on the front. The kids are all laughing and murmuring, their pitter patter fading in the back, exiting the gymnasium and on their way to the next class. You trip slightly and his hands rush to your waist to stabilize you, the apples of his cheeks red as they have ever been and the sight is endearing. “Thank you” your voice is barely above a whisper as he slowly lets go of you, but remains close, at half arms reach. His blue eyes find yours. Your smile mirrors his, shy and nervous. Flirty. And in a quick spurt of confidence, you stand on the tip of your toes and press your lips to his cheek, a millimeter away from the corner of his mouth.

Ok, now his cheeks are redder than ever. Warm and fuzzy is how he describes the feeling that small peck gave him, from the tip of his toes to the last strand of his hair.

The two of you stand there, for who knows how long, because time is irrelevant right now as Bucky processes and rehearses something to say. Meanwhile you beat yourself up in your head. So awkward, so awkward so awkward! You have ruined everything!

The school bell cuts the moment short, making him almost jump a foot away from you and you both clear your throats. “I should… I-” he points over his shoulder making a silly face and dancing on the balls of his feet. “Yeah, yeah, sure! I have uh…” you laugh nervously. “Class and, and, and-” “Exams to grade!” you hum in agreement, raising your arms and looking at the ceiling as if saying sooo many exams “And, you know…” he chirps in, clapping his hands awkwardly and rubbing his palms together. You sway to and fro, playing with the hem of your skirt and nodding obsessively at nothing. “Totally! Me too” he starts to walk away, cursing himself under his breath. What in the world was that? No, fix it Barnes, fix it now.

He’s halfway the distance to the door when he does a 180 and returns to stuttering, his hand nervously and furiously scratching at the back of his head. “Hey so…” “Yeah?” the response is too quick for your liking, how silly of you, why are you such a mess when he’s around? “Uh, maybe we- we could… you know grab some coffee after? And grade! Grade those assignments” “Yeah! Grade ‘em! Of course!” “Yeah, it’d be easier, right? If we- If we” “Got it, yeah... I’m free” “You are?” you nod frantically, cheeks blazing hot. “Good! Good, good” he stares at the patterns on his shoes “Great” “Awesome”

Bucky bites at his bottom lip, hands sunken down deep in his pockets and you’re no different, fingers intertwined behind your back to keep yourself occupied. In a few short steps, Bucky’s regained the distance he put between the two of you, pressing the quickest peck on your cheek before rushing back away, he clears his throat, letting somewhat of a laugh escape, and then is out the gym with his shoulders up to his ears.

He feels like a schoolboy once again, and you’re not far away, swishing your skirt from side to side, your lip between your teeth and a coy giggle deserving of the schoolgirl with a crush award, hand on your chest as you sigh in relief. Oh, finally.

feedback is greatly appreciated and encouraged!! I WENT HAM WITH THIS AND OH THE FLUFF. I ALSO EXPECT TO WRITE MORE TEACHER!BUCKY IN THE FUTURE. Be it college, high school or middle school teacher, I have a lot of mr. barnes inspo, and Ms. Y/L/N as well. 

Hope you enjoyed it!

#IBW: Hello Spring 2019 #ibwhellospringday6 #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #teacher!AU #teacher!Bucky #AU #fanfiction #fluff

[mentalmimosa]

promise you won’t throw me out?

The reporter is a nobody. Nobody Bruce has ever heard of, that is. Big name newspaper sends no-name scribe; it doesn’t inspire confidence. Neither, when Bruce finally gets a look at him, does the man himself.

He’s tall and slouchy, this Clark Kent whoever. He’s got dark hair slicked back harder than concrete, big glasses that are somehow too big for his face. An awkward smile that goes a little crooked when they shake hands.

“Mr. Wayne,” Kent says. It almost comes out as a squeak. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He has to fight to turn on the charm; two cracked ribs and bruises the size of Man-Bat’s fists all over his body make it really damn hard. “Likewise, Mr. Kent. And all the way from Metropolis, no less. How was your flight?”

Kent freezes, his hand still caught in Bruce’s grasp. “My, er--?”

“Your flight. You took Wayne Airlines, I trust.” He trots out a smile, the sateen one that makes shareholders weak in the knees. “Don’t tell me if you didn’t; I don’t want to think any different. I want to like you, Mr. Kent.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do. Or else I wouldn’t have agreed to this interview.” If his VP of Marketing hadn’t forced him to do it. A puff piece, of all things, a soft magazine feature, all in the name of building the brand. God, the things he did for his fucking shareholders. “Come on, drinks are in the library. Alfred will fetch us when dinner is served.”

Kent bobs his head, his cheeks candy-apple pink. “Uh, sure. Great. That sounds great.”

Except he won’t drink a drop. Not even a beer or the 20-year old scotch.”

“But it’s, uh, it’s fine, Mr. Wayne. You go right ahead.”

Bruce pours himself a double, heartburn be damned. Something tells him that he’s gonna need it.

“So,” he says, with a warmth he does not feel, “do you want to start the interrogation part of the evening now?”

“The interrogation?” Kent is drifting around a little, gawking at the shelves upon shelves of books.

“Yes.” There’s a hit of irritation; it sours the scotch. “You know, the question-and-answer period of the evening: my favorite food, my sad family history, what I’ll be wearing to the Wayne Foundation gala this year.”

“Mmm. Uh huh.”

“You have done this before, haven’t you?”

That gets Kent’s attention, a big blink of those guileless eyes. “Done what?”

“Conducted an interview.”

“Oh!” A wide, toothpaste smile. “Yes, of course I have, Mr. Wayne.”

He takes a sip of his drink. And another. Reaches for his favorite tactic, disarming . “You know, if you sat down and opened your notebook, Mr. Kent, I might let you call me Bruce.”

“Um?” Kent says. “You, ah. My notebook. Right. I should do that.”

It takes him two tries and another round of that blush before he’s got his pen poised, before he’s sitting in the wingback opposite Bruce and squaring his jaw. He can’t quite look Bruce in the face.

“This isn’t the formal part of the interview,” he says to the fire in the grate. “I mean, it’s part of it and all, it’s just--this is more a, um, more like a chat. So I can get a feel for you, for where the piece might go, you know. Then we’ll hit the more serious stuff when next week when I come back with my photographer.”

“Sure. I understand.” He waits until Kent braves a gaze. “Tonight’s more like a first date.”

The effect is immediate and frankly, hilarious: the guy turns the color of ketchup; his ears, his throat, the whole nine. And there it is, Bruce thinks, the one failsafe way he knew how to block the sting of a reporter, how to foil anybody who took Bruce Wayne at face value: flirt. It worked every damn time. He leans back in his seat and keeps hold of Kent’s eyes and thinks: sometimes, it’s too fucking easy.

“Oh,” Kent says faintly. “I mean, uh. That’s one way to put it. Metaphorically speaking.”

Bruce laughs. His drink’s made it easy. “So, Mr. Kent--”

“Clark. I can’t call you Bruce if you don’t call me Clark.”

“All right. Clark .” He draws the word out on his tongue. “What would you like to know?”

“How long have you lived in this house?”

“All my life. But that’s in the public records. You knew that. Try again.”

Clark squares his shoulders. Sits up a little straighter. “Ok. Who’s Alfred?”

“Technically, he’s my butler.”

“But un-technically? Or, ah, practically speaking, I guess.”

“He’s more like a father. He raised me after my parents died.” He waves a hand, takes in the tall shelves, the heavy console tables, their faded, sturdy chairs. “This was their house, you know. Well, my grandfather’s first. He built it right before World War I.”

“Do you like living here?”

“That’s an odd question.”

Clark tilts his head, his pen slack on the paper. “Is it? I don’t think so.”

“It’s my family’s home. Of course I like it.”

“Hmmm.”

“What’s that mean, hmmm?”

“It means that what I’ve seen of this place doesn’t really jive with what I know about you.”

“And how’s that?”

“It feels like a museum, this place.”

He stares at the man, doesn’t have to fake sounding curious. “In what way?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It, ah. I mean, I haven’t seen much of it. Just the outside when I drove up. And the foyer, the hallway. This room.”

“And yet you’ve already formed an opinion which you’ve gone out of your way to mention.” He rolls his empty glass between his fingers. “So finish your thought, Clark. You’ve got me curious.”

“You promise you won’t throw me out?” A joke. Not joking.

“No,” Bruce says lightly. The same.

Clark tugs at his tie, a nervous little gesture that Bruce finds oddly charming. “This house feels like a shrine to the past,” Clark says, “like a fortress, almost. A place designed to keep you stuck back there, in the choices other people made. A place that kind of demands that you be alone.”

Bruce blinks, the air suddenly heavy. The crystal feels like lead in his palm. “Are you telling me I’m lonely, Mr. Kent?”

“I didn’t say that. Nobody that reads Page Six would, either. I think you have plenty of company when you want it.”

“Right.”

Clark’s glasses are slipping. He doesn’t seem to notice. “But I don’t think you stay in a place like this if you want to make people a habit, you know? Gotta be easier to go out and have a good time and then come home and close the world out behind locked doors and that big, iron gate.”

There’s no hesitation in Kent’s eyes now. The guy has eyes like lasers, like he’s seeing past Bruce’s face and into his soul. It’s damned unsettling. Especially because, he realizes with a start, Clark is pretty. How the hell had he missed it? Concentrating like this, his face not swallowed by black clunky frames, there’s a light in him, a spark, that makes the booze in Bruce’s belly turn over hot. He may be flighty, this Kent, a little all over the place, but right now, in the orange glow of Bruce’s hearth, one black wave falling over his forehead, his expression pointed curious, he’s also beautiful.

Bruce gets up and goes for the bar cart. Breathes. Never mind that he’s had too much already. Must have, if his brain is going in that particular direction. “That’s one way to read it, I suppose," he says. "An unnecessarily complicated and completely wrong one. But then that’s your job, isn’t it? Spin a story that sells newspapers rather than hands out the dull, everyday truth.”

Clark laughs. It’s deeper than Bruce would have guessed. “Or maybe you underestimate your own complicated nature, Bruce. Maybe you’re just selling yourself short.”

“Maybe.” He turns back to Kent, to the fire, and takes a long sip. “Maybe not."

#batman/superman #secret identities are secret #first meeting #flirting

[mythvoiced]

@enchcntd - THE OG GAYS, OFC — ultimate ship meme!

---

Send in two (or more) names and I’ll fill all this out about the ship!

General:

Rate the Ship -   Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last? - Uh? Forever? Obviously?

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - I wouldn’t say it was love at first sight but it was definitely “good god, this is something”, at first sight (at least for Patrick) so I’m thinking it didn’t take that long, they were infatuated pretty early on, and they both feel Very Strongly, SO HERE THEY ARE

How was their first kiss? - It had the intention to become steamy because at first Patrick thought “yes, this’ll do it, this’ll show him my feelings” but then their lips touched in that random-ass bathroom stall in the men’s toilet at a gala event organised by one Anthony Sullivan, and it was just... slow sparks, it was the “we have to pull away after a literal second because neither of us can believe this is happening and oh god this is what i’ve been missing all my life, isn’t it”

Wedding:

Who proposed? - The absolute idiot that is Patrick Finch (said, of course, affectionately) he just kinda suggested it and well, hey, once you’ve put it out there, all you gotta do is get a ring and PUT IT ON IT because I’m mad Pat didn’t show up with a ring right away >:( but then again, it wasn’t exactly a planned proposal

Who is the best man/men? - We haven’t discussed this yet BUT ALLEN’S DEFINITELY THERE, I don’t know who’d apply for Spencer so feel free to scream the names at me <w< I don’t think either of them would want people who aren’t like, super close to them, though, right?

Who is the braid’s maid(s)? - Not applicable, but to be honest Liv should be IF yknow

Who did the most planning? - Patrick struggled a bit here because he’s used to planning things SOLO (comes from having a naturally strategical mind AND being alone for so long and all the time) but he wouldn’t want to just leave Spencer out of it when he’d know he’d feel bad if he couldn’t participate, so they probably balanced it according to their abilities... And then Pat’s mum Susan flew in and had to be physically restrained by Allen because planning a wedding is on her bucket list and she adores Spencer so she literally is usually sitting there, in a corner, waiting until she can help with something

Who stressed the most? - This would go to Spencer, right? Patrick does his own fair share of stressing on the daily (can’t he rest) but he having Spencer nearby calms him down ALSO because he wants to be calm enough to help Spencer when he’ll start stressing (this is probs the planning only, because I feel like if we’re talking about the idea of marriage itself, Patrick wouldn’t sleep for a week, but I dIGRESS, Allen is here during that period, he’ll smack some sense into him, don’t worry)

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - Anthony Sullivan, Reginald Finch, and Patrick put off inviting Robert until his mother ripped him a new one

Sex:

Who is on top? - They both are... ON TOP OF THE WORLD because they are very deeply in love with one another

Who is the one to instigate things? - They haven’t worked their way up to that topic/situation yet and they both seem fairly comfortable with just letting it rest wherever it may be for a while longer, lmao

How healthy is their sex life? - Well, healthily nonexistent, LEAVE THEM ALONE Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? - No Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - Fellas, I don’t even know if Spencer masturbates, I know Patrick doesn’t even do that, HOW AM I SUPPOSED-

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - Hypothetically speaking, because this is literally all we’re doing here (I’m tryna swerve this section, not gonna lie) the answer would be YES, although Patrick would be more inclined to take care of Spencer’s because for obvious reasons

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - None! Biology doesn’t work that way!

How many children will they adopt? - AT LEAST one, I don’t feel like they’re thinking of adopting another at the moment, BUT DEFINITELY one! Her Royal Highness Samantha Finch

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - Sammy didn’t use diapers anymore when they adopted her!

Who is the stricter parent? - Patrick! Outwardly! He tries to be! He’s a big softie but he’s also terrified of losing her

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - BOTH! They’re quite apprehensive BUT at the same time, Patrick believes if a kid’s feet aren’t dirty at the end of the day, have they really lived the day? Falling of a low branch off a tree every so once in a while is okay, it depends entirely on what Sam can handle, because she may be on the spectrum, but he’s not made out of glass neither should she be treated as such, mic drop LMAO

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - Kitchen is Spencer Terrain! Therefore, by extension, SPENCER!

Who is the more loved parent? - She loves them equally for different reasons! You can’t really compare them, because they’re two completely different beings and she adores them for who they are as individuals.

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? - Patrick would make it a habit to be around for them CERTAINLY because he wants not only to be there for Sam, but also for Spencer the first few times, thinking the idea would stress Spencer out. Not to mention, Patrick has a deep-rooted passion within him to go against every and all systems out there, so he’d want to be there right away if the school Fucked Up because that’s his daughter they’re talking about (but he’d also try to get Spencer to come every time because it’d be important to Spencer as well to be there, right?)

Who cried the most at graduation? - To be honest they probably spent 20 minutes just all three of them crying into the best family hug in the history of all family hugs

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - Patrick, because he INVENTED trouble with the law, NAH omg hopefully neither

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - Spencer! Patrick can cook well enough to keep himself alive, but Spencer is basically a CHEF at this point and well, it’s his thing :3

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - Maybe Sammy? Patrick isn’t picky in the slightest, he’s very likely to eat something he doesn’t like either (at the end of the day he always be “everything’s better than trench food, so”) and Spencer doesn’t seem very picky? So if anybody had to pick that title, it’d probably be some child-pickiness

Who does the grocery shopping? - Who happens to! Depends on schedules and such, but I also believe that Spencer is more likely to, also because he’s the cook so Patrick would be constantly calling him anyway

How often do they bake desserts? - Any time Spencer would feel like it >:)

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - Well, Spencer is a vegetarian so there’s that, Patrick definitely enjoys meat

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - SPENCER! Although, it depends, are we talking a dinner out or a dinner in, although it’s a dinner in either way right, SO SPENCER! Because he cooks. Patrick would surprise him with something else.

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - PATRICK! But he means... OUT out, as in out into nature, on a field, for a picnic, or to star-gaze, he’s more likely too because if he can’t breathe fresh air at least once a day, he withers away (like a dog, yknow)

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidentally while cooking? - NEITHER! 

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - BOTH!

Who is really against chores? - NEITHER! I can see it being rather relaxing for both of them, just getting things done around the house

Who cleans up after the pets? - WHOEVER HAPPENS TO!

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - APPLE! Lmao

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - SPENCER! Because Patrick is just gonna boot them out if he doesn’t like them, he’s a master at skillfully kicking people out of places, but also because he’s taken to trying to be calm during situations like these so that Spencer can rely on him, so even if he WAS stressed, he’d probably get over it

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - SAMMY! It’s her Treasure

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - SPENCER! For the sole reason that Patrick’s showers are fast as lightning lmao and he doesn’t take baths

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - THEY DON’T OWN A DOG!

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - THEY DON’T MISS A SINGLE ONE EXCEPT FOR THANKSGIVINGS PATRICK DOESN’T PARTICIPATE IN THAT ONE LMAO

What are their goals for the relationship? - EVERYTHING THEY GOT RIGHT NOW TBH

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - NEITHER! Both seem pretty early risers

Who plays the most pranks? - PATRICK! I’m kidding IT’S APPLE

#enchcntd #a writer and his wolf;patrick & spencer #TOOK ME A THOUSAND YEARS BUT HERE WE GO #actually jokes on all of us i usually take much longer #;queue

[faketextstuff]

The Arrangement Part 2 - The Introduction.

Summary:: You've never imagined yourself being a sugar baby but because of some playful friends and a stroke of luck, you find yourself with a man who is apparently willing to give you the moon and stars. The only problem is, no strings attached. Don't catch feelings, don't fall for a man who thinks money can solve all your issues and doesn't want commitment.

Warnings: None this chapter. Sensitive issues, Eventual Smut, Cursing.

You felt your heart hammering away against your rib cage after reading the last few text from your best friend. Your phone dropped to your lap and you swore your palms were going to start sweating.

A part of you wanted to get up and run for the exit. You almost didn't want to believe the texts from your friend who said the man approaching you was in fact, good looking. Do good looking men need a site to find willing sugar babies? Fuck, did you even want to be a sugar baby? No! You mentally screamed. This was just coffee.

Even though you keep telling yourself that you would never be a man's play thing, the idea of having someone "spoil" you was mighty intriguing. In all of your relationships you never once had a man spoil you or buy you anything nice. You were always the giver that ended up cheated on, verbally abused and left mentally drained. Maybe for one this would be a nice change. To let someone else take care of you in ways you had never known.

However you were not one to freely give up you were not one to give up your body for a few fancy things. Your morals were in conflict with your mind. You were so lost in thought that you didn't even notice the chair across from you being pulled out and occupied.

"You're thinking about running, aren't you?" A deep voice pulled you from your thoughts causing you to jump back in your seat, your eyes widening to the size of dinner plates as you gawked at the man across from you.

Your jaw fell a bit slack as you drank in the sight before you. This couldn't be him could it? He had to be no more than early to mid twenties, he had what seemed to be, dyed white-ish silver hair, with a very boyish yet handsome face. His dark eyes were shadowed by the baseball hat that sat pulled down lowly on his head.

A black mask sat nestled right below his chin and his attire was completely different from that of what you had pictured. He was dressed in casual clothes, a black leather jacket that matched your own, a loose fitting white shirt under it, and dark blue jeans. Hell, his style actually made it look like the two of you planned a couple's outfit. He was beautiful. There was no doubt to that. This couldn't be him! No way in hell!

As you gaped in shock, his lips curled up into a small cute gummy smile. "What?" He asked knocking you right out of your own thoughts.

"I'm sorry." You blushed while tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You hadn't meant to stare but you just couldn't help it. "I'm waiting for someone." You spoke up in a soft polite manner.

The man's smile widened as he leaned his elbows against the wood table top. "I'm the one you're waiting for, Babygirl." He whispered in a soft voice, giving you a wink. "I have to say, Your profile picture on the site didn't do you proper justice, you're much more beautiful in person, Y/N."

Holy shit! You mentally screamed. This was him! How could a man this young possibly need with a sugar baby!? "Y-You're the one who messaged me?" You blinked a few times.

"Yup. I'm obviously not what you were expecting, judging by that look." He chuckled lightly before leaning back in his seat, his arms crossing loosely over his chest. "I can't tell by your expression if this a good surprise or bad surprise."

"It's a good surprise." You found yourself blurting out, "I mean...you're a lot younger than I was imagining." Your face had to be as red as an apple by this point. You were almost ashamed by your confession.

Chuckling once more the man shook his head, cocking it slightly to the side. "I get it, most women think all Sugar Daddies are old men looking for a hot young thing they can play with. They give the rest of us a bad rep." He shrugged casually.

"Why are you on a Sugar Daddy site to begin with?" You found your voice, eyebrow shooting up and giving a head tilt of your own towards the man in front of you.

"It's simple," he stated, his tone causal and nonchalant as he spoke coolly, "I'm a very busy business owner who travels all over the world at the drop of a hat. I'm stupid rich and have no problem spending my money on people or things I want too. I don't need a clingy girlfriend who is going to hang on my every move. I don't want a woman who will try to entrap me by marrying her. My love is my job and I don't know about you, but I don't see a lot of girls taking kindly to being number two in a relationship." He explained carefully.

You did understand that, as a woman if you were in a committed relationship you would had to know you're always going to number two and will never have your love's full attention. "I get that."

"Even if I don't want the commitment that a full relationship brings, I do miss companionship and the physical aspect of being with another person. I need a professional at my side, a person who is willing to be on my arm at big work events that wont expose me or my dirty secrets to the media. As a professional I treat this like a business deal. A girl on my arm and on the rare occasion "in my arms" in exchange for a lavish lifestyle and everything she could ever need."

Unable to stop yourself, your nose crinkled at the mention of "in my arms". "I don't think I'm your girl, sir." You sighed shaking your head. "It sounds, amazing, if I'm honest. I mean who wouldn't want a lavish lifestyle and be on the arm of a handsome man like you, but I don't do sex for money. I'm sorry."

At your comment, his smile returned and he leaned across the table, reaching out to take your hand. "That's why your my ideal girl. I'm so busy, sex is far off and not very often. Like a said, I love to spoil people. Also for some reason, the fact that you're not eager to jump into it makes you more appealing. I've had a few girls who didn't even hesitate before signing the contract not realizing I wouldn't be at their beck and call every hour. While I want to spoil you and treat you like the queen you are, I need a girl who wont be upset that I'm not at her feet twenty-four-seven. A woman who can be independent while being at my beck and call. When I call, you answer." His hand gave yours a gentle squeeze that caused your stomach to do flips.

"I still don't see how I can help you. Being at your beck and call, I have a life too." You sighed, gently pulling your hand from his grasp. "It's a tempting offer, believe me but I'm not a sugar baby, I don't know the first thing about big business or fancy galas. I'm a waitress at a shit hole restaurant who lives one step away from poverty. While I'd love to actually be spoiled for once in my life and not be the one taking care of everyone else, I couldn't sleep at night knowing you were paying me to do everything a friend could do. Plus you haven't even given me your name. How do I know you're not a scam artist who pulls innocent young girls into a web of lies and false hopes?"

"Call me Suga." He spoke up, his dark eyes boring into yours.

"Suga? Really?" You bit back a chuckle of amusement. "Well, no matter what, I'm not your girl. I'm sorry you wasted your time on a dead end like me." You sighed with a shake of your head. "This just isn't me." You added as you grabbed for your small black purse and went to rise from your seat.

"Give me a week." Suga stood up along with you. Clearly he wasn't one to take no for an answer. "Give me one week to show you the life I'm offering. Let me spoil you for one week and if this still isn't your thing I'll leave you alone for good."

"I just gave you coffee, well--almost gave you coffee, you said coffee and that's it if I say no." A huff escaped your lips before you turned to leave, your head held high as you were determined to stick to your morals. "So we can order some coffee and go our separate ways."

Suga bit back a smirk as he watched you make your way towards the counter to make good on your coffee promise. No wasting any time he followed you confidently. He had never had a woman flat out refuse him the way you just did after he made the offer, this was refreshing to him and only made him more determined to break down your resolve.

Before you could even make it to the counter he stopped you by grabbing your wrist gently. "What do you have to lose for just one week if you're so close to poverty, like you said? Sign a contract with me for one week of dinner, dates, and the work event I mentioned. No sex, just a simple contract."

"Why would I need a contract?" You frowned.

"It's mostly to protect my business and fellow employees. We can't afford a scandal, and it's to protect you."

You jerked your wrist away and placed your hands firmly on your hips. "Fuck, you're persistent." You sighed with a roll of your eyes. "Protect me from what?"

Suga placed a hand on your shoulder and lead you up against the wall and away from anyone who dared to listen in on your conversation. "Former girls who didn't take it well when I ended the arrangement, other men who would try to get company secrets from you unknowingly, protect you from me forcing you to pay back every dime I spent on you. My lawyer is very thorough when it comes to protecting both of us."

It did make sense. You couldn't imagine having to pay a rich person back for even a cup of ramen, your bank account was close to pocket change, and you hadn't been able to pay your bills in a month, no matter how many extra shifts you took up at the restaurant. "If I agree to this now, what if I change my mind later?"

You almost smiled as Suga's eyes lit up with a spark of hope. "Come to my office and read over the contract. You can see for yourself. You can edit and revise things that aren't yo your liking if you see fit. I don't know why, but you stood out above all the other girls I saw. I want to take a chance on you. A week is all I'm asking to get to know you. Seven days and if you don't like what I'm offering, you'll never hear from me again."

You fell silent for a moment, his words playing in your mind like a broken record. One week, seven days. What could seven days hurt? Hell, you knew you could sorely use the money. We're your morals more important than your lively hood? Of course! However, no sexual favors had to be preformed, no strings attached. Just date him for seven days and get paid hopefully enough to pay your rent for another month. "Where's your office?"

#bts fanfic #bts angst #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts suga x reader

[sasshole-for-rent]

Getting To Know Me

I was tagged by @galadrieljones I think. I suck at keeping up with these. Sorry, bby applesauce.

Rules: Answer the questions then tag 10 people you want to get to know better.

Name: Riann.

Gender: Female.

Star Sign: Capricorn Sun, Libra Moon.

Height: 5'4" I think.

Age: 20 (still feel robbed of my childhood, thnx punta madre.)

Wallpaper on my phone: My lockscreen is a noir Solas, and my wallpaper is another different noir Solas. The thrist is real.

House: two bedroom apartment in the city (I fucking miss the forest! I literally got yelled at by Julie, the woman who owns the apartments, to stop pulling needles off the tree and I just continued doing it while staring at her.) with ample magic space to politely ask candles to help out my buds. Oh! Plus, a huge ass basement to dance to cotton-eyed joe at 5 am because sleep deprivation is a thing.

Ever crush on a teacher: No, but all my favorite teachers were all dudes. I take that back. Most were dudes. My spanish/chemistry teacher was amazing and I am friends with her on Pinterest.

Coolest Halloween Costume: when I was little I had this dragon costume that I wore every year until I grew out of it. I just wanted to be a dragon, still do.

Favorite 90's tv show: Um. All of them? Literally everything on Nickelodeon was lit back then! Then Teen Nick & Nick Toons i.e Zoey 101, ICarly, The Amanda Show, That one temple game show that I can't remember the name of right now, Avatar: The last Airbender, Courage the Cowardly Dog, Invader Zim, etc.

Last Kiss: my grandma when she was in the hospital.

Have you ever been stood up: Not that I can remember. I don't think so.

Favorite pair of shoes: Nah. Barefoot, memory foam slippers, or those fuzzy lavender infused dream socks.

Have you ever been to Vegas: Nope.

Favorite Fruit: Gala apples, kiwis, and bananas. All fruit is delicious tho. How do I pick just one?

Favorite Book: Daughter of Smoke and Bone series by Laini Taylor. Plus, Strange the Dreamer also by Laini Taylor. Her writing is just phenomenal and whimsical and I hope to be like her one day.

Stupidest thing you have ever done: *nervous cackling* oh god, just one stupid thing? I ran threw cow shit bare foot, got high off of pot cookies during my senior trip and reverse pick pocketed little toy soldiers into the guys that were going away into the military (I was friends with them, they were good dudes.) Then I did it to my ex, which caught me because I was super slow with my movements and just sat there laughing with my hand in his pocket because it was stuck. Then he just laughed painfully and removed my hand, on that same trip, this teacher whom everyone disliked bought the whole class ice cream and I screamed "Daddy [Teacher's last name] is buying us icecream!!!!" and just before that on the bus, I put my thumb against some dude's camera when he was taking a selfie and..we just kind of laughed awkwardly at each other (because I was blocking the back camera), I also screamed and freaked out because there was a mayfly under my hand buzzing against my palm when I grabbed a cart at Walmart and it was terrifying.

All time favorite shows: Sense8, Game of Thrones, Teen Wolf, Awkward, The Shannara Chronicles. (I haven't watched shows in awhile tho. My aunt is the one with Netflix.)

Last movie I saw in theaters: ummmm. Oh! It was Miss Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children. I think it was an impluse outing with my best bud, @brassdragon0 and two dudes. And me and her just inappropriately laughed through the whole thing because we were confused and get like that around each other. Lol.

I tag: @dismalzelenka @joufancyhuh @sylveonne @suzumicchi @nilesdaughter @4vrafangirl ugh. Just six because I can't remember urls rn.

#sass does an overshare #tag game #weeee

[nomoregraydays]

Under The Stars (G.D. fic)- Pt 3 Reaching Out

POV: First Person 

Word Count: 983

***

I opened up my Twitter messages, pulled down to refresh them, and yet again no new ones. I huffed lightly and started shaking my leg. What the fuck? Why hasn’t he messaged me yet since sending the photos? Or am I supposed to message him? I didn’t want to seem pushy, right? We are in the 20th century though. Hah, not a real defense there. 

What if it was my age that intimated him? Or maybe he’s just not interested. Whoa, Kat… Getting ahead of yourself here. The last interaction didn’t indicate any sort of attraction. There’s no way he liked you like that. He was only being friendly.

I sighed heavily again. 

“What’s bothering you?” 

Slightly startled, I looked over at my older brother, Eric. “Nothing,” I mumbled. He was currently living at home with our parents until he found a new job. I’d come over to help him carry things inside.

He smirked lightly as he stood from the recliner. “Sure.”

I rolled my eyes, but refreshed my messages again. 

“Whoever you’re waiting for to text you, do it first. They’re probably waiting for you.” He reached out to ruffle my hair, but I whacked his hand away; which only made him chuckle.

I stared at his name for I don’t know how long. Maybe Eric was right. I’m going in with no high hopes here though; this sort of shit usually never worked out for me. 

I tapped on his direct message and typed out what I wanted to say and still hesitated before I hit send. I quickly wiped away the whole app, hit the lock button on my phone, and tossed it aside. Then I went into the kitchen to distract myself. My heart was wanting to kill me. 

“Did you message them?” Eric asked as he chomped on potato chips. 

I only nodded before I opened the fridge to take out an apple. I don’t know why I chose one of the hardest fruits to chew when I could barely open my mouth. I turned the Gala apple around in my hand a couple times before opening the fridge to put it back. Not actually hungry anyways. 

How long has it been? I looked at the clock: five minutes. Felt like five fucking hours, days even. I huffed and went back to the couch to check notifications. My heart nearly stopped seeing his name and reply. He had replied within two minutes. Which means he may have been waiting and now he’s been waiting. Fucking yikes. 

Kat: Hey, haven’t had anyone on your shoulders lately, have you?

Gray: Haha no thankfully. How have you been?

The ‘how have you been’ seemed so formal, but maybe he thought it’d be proper to use it, and if I were him I’d be kicking myself over it as I was waiting for a reply. I didn’t waste too much more time thinking so he’d get a reply back within ten minutes.

Kat: I’ve been good. Just work, but off today. You? 

I locked my phone and tapped my fingers on the screen a few times before I noticed the green light go off. 

Gray: Same had to prepare for the next video and I don’t know why E is always having me get hurt

Kat: Lmao but all loving siblings do that 

Gray: I’m calling bs

You have siblings too?

Kat: Yeah, two older brothers. Growing up with them was definitely… interesting. It was either fight back or be a punching/lougy bag

Gray: Brothers are shit 

Kat: But can’t live without them haha

Gray: True

There was an awkward pause after he started to type something else, but then stopped. I bit my lip and quickly sent the first random question I could think of to keep the conversation going. 

Kat: Think you could survive a zombie apocalypse?

Gray: *laugh crying emoji* You’re kidding right

Kat: No, serious question. Answer it lmao 

Gray: Idk I think if I had E we could go for a while 

No one survives a zombie apocalypses tho 

Kat: So positive. *laugh crying emoji* In my version, there’s some sort of cure. So you think that you and E could survive until then?

Gray: Lol maybe 

What about you?

Kat: Get ready for a very thorough answer

Gray: How often do you think about this?

Kat: Not often *laugh crying emoji* In all of my dreams I’ve had about apocalypses, I’ve been a bad ass slayer and help save others. The reality is, I hate zombies and I’d probably hide away somewhere until one or a herd of them find and rip me apart. But I do think there is some small chance I could be the bad ass slayer if a zombie virus were to break out. 

Gray: Join E and I

I smiled at his suggestion. 

Kat: You’d want me to?

I excessively bit my lip as I watched his picture come up and type a response. 

Gray: 100% 

That’s it. Just 100%. I mean, he’d want me to be with him during a zombie apocalypse. That’s gotta say something, right? Or he’s just being nice again. That’s how he is. 

Kat: Okay, let’s be a team. 

Gray: What’s our name?

Kat: I don’t know.. Maybe use the initials of our first name for something? Like GEK or KEG

Gray: DEF KEG HAHAH

Kat: lmfao I’m down. Let Ethan know about this

Gray: Hold on 

I laughed. He probably was really telling him. Suddenly, another direct message popped up and now it was a group with Gray, Ethan, and I. The name had been changed to ‘KEG’.

Ethan: TEAM KEG KICK SOME ZOMBIE ASS

I laughed harder now and Eric popped his head into the living room. “Everything good?” 

“Definitely,” I replied. 

He smirked. “I told you.” 

I rolled my eyes but sunk into the couch and emerged into the conversation further. 

Next: First Date (Part 4)

#Grayson dolan fluff #Grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan short #grayson dolan #ethan dolan #fanfiction #writing #Under The Stars #ethan dolan fanfiction #grayson dolan fanfiction

[toomanyfeelings5]

the rotten job, part 1

get pumped for a gay shakespeare leverage au from someone who’s never seen leverage. how niche is this? impossible to tell.

all the titles for these little bits are from the mountain goats’ album beat the champ. 

major shout-out to @ophelia-thinks for coming up with this wacky au idea.

here it is, below the cut: 

1. “foreign object”

“shit--fuck--”

kate breaks his nose.

guard #10--tall, lithe, baggy uniform, the shade of blond that calls to mind hospital lights--manages, “go to hell.”  

she smiles, blood in her mouth. spits it onto the cold concrete floor. the iron taste lingers. “you gonna tell me where mrs. regina goldfeather iii is being held?” 

more muffled cursing. jesus, this guy’s a real mumbler. she reaches up to squeeze his neck, just a little. leans in real close. her noise wrinkles at the axe body spray. “did you hear me? or am i going to have to repeat myself?”

finally, after he flinches, adam’s apple bobbing under her palm, voice thick: “down the hall, make a left. last door on the right.”

“there.” kate knocks him out--easy, really, when they’re this close. “was that so hard?”

“minola,” her earpiece crackles, nasally voice low and grating in the static. “get a move on. we don’t have time for this--”

“h,” kate huffs as she jogs down the hallway, ankle throbbing, right eye swelling shut. “c’mon. i’m a professional.”

“you keep saying that, and yet--”

“and yet you need to shut the hell up. i need to find the holding cell.”

there’s breathing of some sort cutting into her ear--horatio is an expert in long-suffering sighs--and after a few minutes of breathing hard, of sweat dripping down her back, of coughing up god knows what, kate gets to the door. 

“fuck you,” she tells the door, and kicks it wide open. 

the room is tiny and dirty, with one cracked lamp flickering from the ceiling, dust floating in the air, rusted file cabinets lining the walls. there are three men and two women unconscious on the ground.

none of that matters. 

kate grins wide, front tooth chipped, voice hoarse. “i win.”

portia rolls her eyes as she finishes untying herself. “bless your heart. this was all me.” 

“how d’you think we’re getting out, hm? the guards didn’t neutralize themselves, sweetheart.”

“we’re not undercover anymore.” portia fixes her wig, fake red ringlets spilling behind her in graceful arcs. “you don’t have to call me that.”

kate shrugs, ignoring the protest of her bruised shoulder. “regardless, darling, you have to admit that i saved your sorry ass. that’s....what, twenty to nineteen?”

“no, you--” portia’s round face changes, frowns slightly. she’s such a sore fucking loser. “next time, you’re the one who’s going to need saving--”

“ladies,” horatio snaps into their earpieces. “we are on a schedule here. i can’t break into their databases if i don’t know what i’m looking for. you have the intel, you get out and get to the safe-house. now.” 

“of course,” portia says, slipping into her real voice, new yorker drawl back in place. “we’ll be perfectly punctual. won’t we, mrs. pauline goldfeather?” 

kate raises an eyebrow. “yes,” she says, and refuses to break eye contact. it’s been a long two weeks of pretending to sip wine, of getting government gossip out of marcellus’s cousin, of showing off her stolen diamond ring, of holding hands and linking arms and selling every last piece of it. stuff like that was portia’s thing, usually. kate’s never been any good at it. she had really tried, once, to be what her father wanted her to be, to be what her husband wanted her to be. still. she had smiled when their bodies were lowered into the ground. car accident on the way to a men’s rights protest. in the end, she’d had the last fucking laugh.  

it’s been good to finally break some knee caps.  

kate glances at portia’s lipstick, bright red, designed to attract attention, to distract form the cold and merciless glint in her eyes. 

every last piece. kate shakes her head. it’s strange to know what your co-worker tastes like. “let’s go.”

2. “animal mask”

it’s 11:30am in the 24-hour diner on a friday. traffic had been shit, as usual. the service is slow, as usual. the music is too loud, as usual. nerissa is late, as usual.

“sorry,” she says, not sounding very sorry at all. as usual. “work ran later than i thought.”

“it always does.”

“yeah, yeah. you order for me?”

portia raises an eyebrow. “turkey BLT on rye, no mayo, extra bacon.”

nerissa nearly cackles. “i’ve got you trained.”

“you wish.”

they get their coffees. there’s a couple of families seated near them--a baby’s giggles pierce through the top 40, an old woman chides a kid who must be her grandson about the way he holds his fork. there’s a lot of chatter about work, the kids, the new apartment, the news. 

portia stirs in cream. “can you help us?” 

nerissa grabs another sugar packet. “with what? espionage? smuggling drugs? identity theft? murder? world domination?”

“world domination, definitely,” portia says, smiling despite herself. 

“excellent. you’ll pay me my fee, right?”

“of course.”

“good.” nerissa sips her coffee, sweetened to her liking. “but seriously, what do you need?”

“i need you to look into cases involving nathaniel fortinbras and claudius hansen.”

“those guys? aren’t they the ones who--?”

the waiter brings them their food, uncommonly on time. nerissa immediately starts eating the fries that come with her sandwich, and portia’s glad that her eggs benedict has enough sauce. 

after a while-- “yeah, but i gotta watch the game tonight,” a woman tells her husband, jabbing a finger at her yankees hat-- portia asks, “you know who they are, right? there was that big scandal and everything?”

“yeah,” nerissa says with her mouth full. “yeah, i remember our office had bets going on whether or not they could all get away with it. huge legal fallout. i got fifty bucks out of it though.”

“mhm.” portia wipes her mouth with the cheap napkin. “look into him, bother your lawyer coworkers about it, dig up whatever you can. i’ll let you know specifics over email.”

“right, yeah. the super secret one.”

“yes, that.”

“god, you were always a bit shady--don’t give me that look, you know it’s true--but this is next-level.” nerissa laughs incredulously. “portia the vigilante. never thought i’d see the day.”

portia sighs. she can’t believe it either, on most days. every morning, she looks at herself in the mirror, and every morning she can never quite recognize the face that stares back at her. she picks at her eggs. “i can’t--after what happened...you know i had to start over.”

nerissa nods. she stops bouncing her leg. “yeah,” she says, brown eyes softening. “yeah, i get it. well, i don’t get it, i have no idea what you’re up to half the time, but. you know what i mean.”

portia smiles. “i know.”

after a moment, nerissa takes a bite out of her BLT and smirks in that terribly smug, familiar way of hers. portia braces herself as she asks, “so what’s up with you and minola?”

portia chews on her ham before saying flatly, “haven’t been in touch with her recently. last i knew she was visiting her sister. so i suppose...nothing much. it’s the same as it’s been.”

nerissa laughs hard enough that lettuce flies out of her mouth. portia tries very hard not to notice. her father had always demanded perfect manners. 

“bullshit,” nerissa all but commands. “you guys have hooked up at least, right? like, i’m not crazy about this, am i?”

portia carefully swallows her piece of egg. “...there was this one job last month--infiltration at a number of high-profile galas and fundraisers, we needed some intel--and we....minola and i were undercover as an influential married couple, and--”

“you’re shitting me.”

“no, i’m not joking. we needed to do that in order to get closer to fortinbras’s people. he’s looking to widen his donor base for corporate funds, wants to pretend to be more inclusive--”

“yeah, but you’ve been friends with benefits before that. why haven’t you just asked her out already?”

portia gives her a look, and barely stops a smile from creeping across her mouth. it’s a relief, in the end, to shed masks, to talk as herself. or, at least, it’s nice to pretend to be normal. she’s been doing that her whole life. “minola’s my coworker, rissa. and she’s a disaster. she is! she gets into cage fights for fun!” 

“sounds pretty hot to me--”

“oh my god. we are not talking about this anymore. it’s completely casual, not like...never mind. what about you, hm? what about you and celia? don’t think i haven’t seen those instagram photos--”

her phone buzzes.

portia holds up a finger to nerissa’s spluttering and reads: she wants you at the office in 20.

“what?” nerissa asks, eager to change subjects. “what is it?”

“i have to leave.”

“seriously?”

“yes. i’m...i’m sorry.”

portia doesn’t apologize often. 

nerissa nods, because she knows this. “it’s ok, i have to get back to work soon anyway. i’ll look into the stuff you want me to.”

“thank you.”

nerissa shrugs. “what are friends for?”

“yeah, yeah.”

portia promises to pay her back later, slides out of the booth, and glances at the text again: she wants you at the office in 20. 

horatio didn’t need to clarify who she was talking about. with her, everything is always about one person and one person only. 

portia floors the gas in her mercedes. the traffic had better not be shit. “duty calls,” she mutters to herself, and she hopes the boss won’t be too pissed if she’s late. 

#shakespeare #leverage #fic #idk about this but shrugs #it's been fun to write