#and I would really like to know why I didn’t get it. because one person on the committee has repeatedly praised my work ethic and how well I

[iamgonnagetyouback]

Hi ivy! For the holiday enemies to lovers prompts can you do 1,3,4 with Theo nott? Ofc you don’t have to use all of them if you don’t want to! Those 3 really stood out to me and I couldn’t pick just one 😅 thank you lovely!

Assuming this is your request @astonishment, thank you so much requesting! Hope you like it <33

theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader who gets him for the secret santa

THE SPIRALLING

There were exactly 47 hours and 12 minutes until the Hogwarts Secret Santa reveal, and you were on the verge of losing your entire mind.

Why? Because you had drawn Theodore freaking Nott as your Secret Santa recipient. Of all the people at Hogwarts, it had to be him: the cold, brooding, insufferable Slytherin who looked at you like you were the human embodiment of an unwashed sock.

“I’m cursed,” you moaned dramatically, sprawled across the couch in the Hufflepuff common room. “There’s no other explanation.��

From her chair by the fireplace, your friend Sarah barely looked up from her book. “What are you on about now?”

“My life is over,” you said, tossing an arm across your eyes for good measure. “I’ve been assigned him. The human icicle. The walking void of emotion.”

Sarah blinked. “You got Theodore Nott?”

You bolted upright, grabbing her arm like she’d just offered to save you from a sinking ship. “What do I do, Sarah?! What do you get someone who hates everything? A rock? A lump of coal?”

“Well��” Sarah started, but you were already off the couch and pacing.

“He’s going to hate anything I give him,” you wailed, hands flailing. “But I can’t not give him something because then I’ll look like a terrible person, and I’m not a terrible person, Sarah! I’m a Hufflepuff! We are legally obligated to be nice!”

“Legally?” Sarah said dryly, but you ignored her.

“And I can’t ask him what he likes because then he’ll know it’s me, and then he’ll think I’m stalking him, and—oh my gosh, what if he reports me to Snape?!”

“You’re spiralling,” Sarah said, but you were already halfway out the door.

STEP ONE: INTERROGATING THE ENEMY'S FRIENDS

Step one in your (brilliant, totally foolproof) plan was to interrogate Theodore’s friends. Casually. Subtly. Like a normal person.

Spoiler: You were not a normal person.

“Enzo!” you said brightly, sliding into the seat next to Lorenzo Berkshire at breakfast. “How’s it going? How’s life? How are your socks? Warm? Good. So, what does Theodore Nott like?”

Lorenzo froze mid-bite, his fork hovering in the air. “What?”

“You know, hobbies, interests, favorite snacks, deepest fears,” you said, waving a hand. “The usual.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Why do you want to know?”

“Oh, no reason!” You laughed—a little too loudly. “Just curious.”

“Is this for Secret Santa?” he asked, smirking. “Wait. Did you get Theo? Merlin’s beard, you got Theo!”

“NO!” you practically yelled, nearly knocking over your pumpkin juice. “Of course not! That would be absurd. Ha! Ha ha ha!”

Lorenzo leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“Am not!” you huffed. “I’m just… conducting a holiday-themed survey. For… science.”

“For science?” he repeated, amused. “Right. Well, Sunshine, if you’re so curious about Theo, why don’t you just ask him?”

“BECAUSE!” You threw your hands in the air. “He’s scary, Enzo! He’ll probably hex me or—I don’t know—stare at me with those stupid intense eyes of his.”

“His stupid intense eyes?” Enzo grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “Are you sure you don’t like him?”

“WHAT?!” You nearly fell out of your chair. “I don’t like him! I despise him! He’s rude and annoying and—ugh—he breathes too smugly!”

“Sure,” Enzo said, clearly not convinced. “Whatever you say, Sunshine.”

STEP TWO: QUESTIONING THE ENEMY

You were nothing if not persistent. So, against your better judgment, you cornered Theodore himself in the library.

“What are you doing for the holidays?” you asked, plopping into the chair across from him.

Theodore didn’t even look up from his book. “Why do you ask and/or care?”

“I don’t care,” you said quickly. “I was just… wondering.”

He finally glanced at you, one dark eyebrow raised. “Why?”

“Because I’m nice,” you said, gesturing vaguely. “And curious. And it’s the holidays! Aren’t we supposed to, like, bond or something?”

“I’d rather not,” he said, turning a page.

You scowled. “Wow. You really know how to spread holiday cheer, don’t you?”

“Was there a point to this?” he asked, looking at you like you were a particularly annoying fly buzzing around his head.

“Yes,” you said, folding your arms. “The point is… I was just wondering if you’re going home for Christmas.”

“No,” he said shortly. “Now, are we done here?”

Your scowl deepened. “Why aren’t you going home?”

“Why do you care?” he shot back.

“I don’t!” you said, your voice a little too high-pitched. “I just… thought you might be lonely or something.”

Theodore’s lips twitched into the faintest smirk. “Worried about me, Sunshine?”

“No!” you said, cheeks burning. “Don’t flatter yourself, Nott. I was just—ugh, forget it!”

You stood up so quickly you almost knocked over your chair, muttering under your breath as you stomped away. Behind you, Theodore chuckled softly.

STEP THREE: GIVING THE GIFT (AND HOPEFULLY NOT GETTING HEXED)

By some miracle (or maybe sheer stubbornness), you managed to find the perfect gift: a leather-bound journal, simple yet elegant, with Theodore’s initials embossed on the cover.

When the time came for the Secret Santa exchange, you watched nervously as he unwrapped it, your palms clammy and your heart pounding.

He stared at the journal for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he looked up, his piercing green eyes locking onto yours.

“Did you…?” he started, but you cut him off.

“It’s not a big deal!” you said quickly, waving your hands. “I just—I mean, you don’t have to like it or anything. It’s fine if you hate it. I just thought—”

“Mio sole,” he interrupted, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “It’s perfect.”

You froze, your brain short-circuiting. “It… it is?”

He nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Thank you.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, completely dumbfounded. Then, because you didn’t know what else to do, you blurted, “You’re welcome! Merry Christmas! Okay, bye!”

You practically sprinted out of the room, your face burning, but you couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face.

Maybe Theodore Nott wasn’t so bad after all.

BONUS

Later, when you were sitting by the fire, Lorenzo plopped down beside you with a smug grin.

“So,” he said, nudging you. “You gave Theo his gift. How’d it go?”

“Fine,” you said, playing with the hem of your sweater. “He liked it.”

“‘Liked it,’” Lorenzo repeated. “That’s all you’re gonna say?”

“Yes,” you said firmly. “That’s all.”

Lorenzo smirked. “You’re blushing, Sunshine.”

“I am not!”

Across the room, Theodore caught your eye, and for the briefest moment, he smiled—a real, genuine smile. Your heart did a little flip, and you quickly looked away.

Lorenzo laughed. “Yeah. Totally not blushing.”

“Shut up, Enzo!”

Lorenzo's laughter trailed off as you smacked his arm, though he didn’t stop smirking like the absolute menace he was. You crossed your arms and sank deeper into your seat, huffing.

“Say, Enzo,” you began, your voice carefully nonchalant, “you know Italian, right?”

He raised a curious eyebrow but shrugged. “Yeah, of course.”

You turned to face him, fiddling nervously with the hem of your sleeve. “What does… uh… mio sole mean?”

The smirk that spread across his face was so smug, you immediately regretted asking. “Ohhh,” he drawled, leaning closer with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Who called you that?”

“No one!” you said, your voice jumping an octave. “I just heard it somewhere, that’s all. Totally random. Not a big deal!”

Enzo’s eyebrows wiggled like he was performing some sort of comedy act. “Not a big deal, huh? Sure. Well, it means ‘my sun.’ You know, like…” He trailed off dramatically before pointing straight at you. “Sunshine. My sunshine.”

Your face burned so hot, you were pretty sure you were moments away from combusting. “Oh,” you squeaked, your voice barely audible.

Enzo leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “So, Sunshine, care to explain who’s been whispering sweet nothings in Italian to you?”

“No one!” you said again, practically shouting this time. “I told you, I just heard it somewhere! That’s all! Ugh, you’re so annoying, Enzo!”

“I’m annoying?” he said with mock offense. “You’re the one coming to me with your mysterious Italian phrases. Next thing I know, you’ll be asking me how to confess your undying love to Theo in flawless Tuscan dialect.”

Your gasp was so loud, half the common room turned to look at you. “Excuse me?!”

Enzo’s smirk widened. “You’re excused.”

You sputtered incoherently, your brain a tangled mess of embarrassment and indignation. “I—he—there is nothing—you are impossible, Lorenzo Berkshire!”

Enzo laughed so hard, he nearly fell out of his chair. Meanwhile, you crossed your arms and buried your face in your hands, silently vowing to never speak to him again.

Across the room, Theodore caught your eye once more, his lips quirking up in a small, knowing smile. Your stomach flipped again, and you quickly turned away, cheeks blazing.

Enzo, noticing the exchange, gasped dramatically. “It is Theo, isn’t it?! Sunshine, you sly little—”

“ENOUGH!” You groaned, grabbing a cushion and whacking him with it. Enzo, of course, only laughed harder.

REQUESTED FROM : this post RELATED TO : this post

[k1tty5]

I would like to make it clear that I do NOT want anyone’s firstborns, but I will ramble. for you.

rambles about the process and other thoughts under the cut! I talk a LOT, so… view at your own risk?

I originally had this idea a couple months ago, I think when I first heard the song. I had made a little test for it, which I didn’t end up doing anything with because I thought it didn’t really make much sense. Which, I’m not sure I did that great of a job making this make sense, but you know. Whatever.

this is the original drawing i made for it back in early august, very rushed and not a big fan of it.

I liked the black background & grayscale palette, as well as the way the string kind of . Twirls around the text? BUT, I went into this without any planning, mostly just me doodling and then threw the lyrics on for fun. No plot or whatever, very short.

After I made this, I was kind of just keeping this idea in mind for later, but I held back on trying to do it as I just wasn’t really sure where I wanted to go with it. I’m very bad at planning and tend to rush into things a lot, which ends up hindering the quality of a lot of my art. and since this was something I actually liked the idea of, I wanted to give it my all.

There was also the fact that because I liked the idea, I wanted the best outcome. This kind of ends up in a sort of paralysis where I don’t want to work on something because I’m not good enough for it, but I did realize that I will likely never consider myself good enough for it, so why not just go for it?

Anyway ,

I did not end up keeping the black background for the reason that I decided that this time around I wanted it to have a more traditional vibe/look? Like perhaps it was scrawled over some roughed up paper, hence the sketchy style and limited palette.

And as for why I didn’t keep the string looping around the pages, I just thought that would add too much red to the pages, sort of ruining the vibe. So I instead just kept it inside the panels!

these are the original thumbnails/sketches! most of them I kept the same, but I did end up pretty much entirely changing the third page, because I decided there was already too many panels of just their faces with somewhat unsettled expressions .

thoughts on individual pages - don’t expect me to be organized or this to be well thought out, by the way,,

on page 1 ,

I started with a shot of the relationship, mostly to just… set the scene. I am NOT an expert on comics, and went into this with very minimal planning, so this work in general is more of the vibes than it is a storyline, but I did try to vaguely get it to resemble something comprehensible.

the second panel of Etho brushing Joel’s cheek is very much no thoughts for me lol, not very happy with how it looks. I do picture Etho as the more openly affectionate one (though i can see it both ways). BUT, to match with the lyrics, you could say that the first panel paired with “it’s hard to tell which elements of this are real” could be resembling that the boat is something tangible and physical, whereas the second panel paired with “and which are chemically enhanced” is referring to whatever feelings they have. Asking themselves if this is really real, or if it’s just the game.

no notes on the third panel lol. like i say this was not well thought out, the story is somewhat there, but it’s VERY much up to interpretation and I did intend it to be that way. I have ideas about what is happening, but I want to keep it up to the viewer.

on page 2,

“But it’s not easy to tell what I want from what I need” OH BOY !!! manic red joel. blinded by the bloodlust and rage and adrenaline. he needs this. he needs it, doesn’t he?

“I am more scared of myself than I am of anyone else” okay okay okay. I don’t headcanon he has any real remorse for killing anyone. this is a death game, you’re not meant to be a good person, this is built on lies and manipulation and blood and hurt. headcanon they’re all insane people doing bad things (with a forced hand or not). BUT !!! big fan of “i break everything i touch” kind of thing (its kind of a pattern in ships i like OOPS). so much angst. regretful of your violent nature, wishing to be gentler so that you can cradle his face without digging your nails into his skin, unwanting to break the only thing you’ve learnt to love.

but. etho doesn’t care !!! he doesnt care. his hands are just as bloody as yours, don’t you see?

on page 3,

panel one is just a continuation of the last scene which i just talked about blah blah blah

panel 2!! thats a portal. we all know what happened in the portal :)

on page 4.

ending the mini comic thing with the ship burning, while it started with a shot of the ship in its prime. before and after, how it started and how it ended.

all in all, I !! AM !!! INSANE!!! about them. I could ramble for hours probably but this is already long so ending with a couple final thoughts.

this is definitely meant to be set after they’ve gone red, when in that timeframe is up to you, though. in my vision the lyrics are kind of correlating to c!joel’s thoughts/feelings/whatevers, but it can definitely go both ways - or neither way lol. This song is really just like. THEM. To me.

anywho, thank you to anyone who has put the augh’s and ough’s in the tags, they’re very gratifying haha <3

the simplest words

[forwards-beckon-rebound]

batfam and the fanfic tropes i’m giving them

ft. bruce, dick, and jason

bruce

child’s teacher x single parent i mean that’s literally him. but also i like the idea of exploring his partner’s relationship with his kids

i want somebody to write like a bruce x whoever fic (whoever it is isn’t that important but i’m just saying i do think superbat is fun) with that trope

some college au where like all the kids have taken one of prof kent’s class and they all think he should be their dad

because they don’t want to leave their new dad

they’re hyping bruce up without him even knowing during their office hours

“like yknow prof kent, my dad has a dinosaur”

“oh…that’s certainly…interesting? i’m not sure what this has to do with intro to investigative journalism though”

“you could investigate the dinosaur! actually, we always have a big thanksgiving dinner and our butler, alfred, makes the best stuffing. why don’t you come over and check it out?”

“i’m not sure that’s appropriate of me as your professor. also i’m not sure a dinosaur would be a suitable—”

“you could get an exclusive interview with gotham’s richest and most eligible bachelor? um and we’ll throw in some wayne enterprises secrets too”

“…what was the address again?”

also i think he just gives me enemies to lovers vibes

maybe it has something to do with his canonical relationships

dick

meet cute i think he’s the only one who’s smooth enough to make this not awkward

like it is sort of awkward because this man flirts using puns but i feel like he’s charming enough to make it work

“hey girl are you a booger because i would pick you first” and then rolls nat20

fake dating

i feel like he would agree to it whether or not he actually liked the other person. honestly he might come up with the idea himself

he’s a naturally flirty guy and if he didn’t have a crush on the other person before he’s going to be so smooth with it

but then he spends time with them and he finds himself slower falling for them?

and like even if he ramps up the flirting, maybe tries to be more physical or spend more time with them, he’s not getting his message across and now he’s shooting himself in the foot for agreeing to this in the first place (and not realizing his own feelings and making a move before all of this happened)

but also maybe he’s just dense because he’s not picking up on the fact that they are doing a really bad job at hiding their feelings for him too

ALTERNATIVELY he goes into it already liking them

he thinks he’s going to be soooo smooth and charm them off their feet and then boom they’ll be dating for real

but for the first time in his life he’s stuttering and not knowing what to do and it’s really annoying how even when he’s like that, or maybe because he’s like that, he’s just as cute as he always is

he’s just a lover boy

jason

friends to lovers man seems like he needs to really trust somebody and have an emotional connection with them before pursuing a relationship

also this man canonically cannot flirt and cannot pick up on flirting so i don’t really think meet cutes are gonna work

i’m just imagining they’ve been friends for a while

it took him a really long time to open up. slowly, bit by bit, he reveals more of himself to his friend until he can honestly say they’re one of the people who knows him best

i think one of his biggest fears is not being good enough, like he’ll scare them away with all of his baggage and flaws. every time they have a late night conversation he lets his guard down a little and tests the water. he’ll give them a crumb and see how it goes. honestly, he’s terrified of their reaction but when things go well, he can’t help but want to give them more of himself

i think he’s always had bigger things in his life to worry about other than romance

is he a hopeless romantic? absolutely, if his bookshelf is anything to go by. but i think in some ways he has removed himself from that possibility a long time ago and maybe doesn’t see how he could be at all like the people in happy, loving, stable relationships that he reads about

it’ll take him a long time to realize his own emotions, much less act on them

and because of that, i think

idiots in love would also fit him very well. sorry i just think this guy is emotionally repressed and stupid and if the other person doesn’t figure shit out i don’t think he will either

i sure am roasting him a lot for someone who has a blog dedicated to him

but anyways, i feel like it would take a push for him to confess. whether that be a life threatening injury to either of them or maybe they’re getting too close to another person. i think he would need to come to terms with the fact that he could lose them and then decide that he would rather take the risk than never try

don’t think he’s making a move until he’s at least somewhat sure that the other person likes him back though

this is the best case scenario though. depending on what stage of his life he’s in when he meets somebody he likes, it could very well end up as a

right person wrong time i feel like he's also the most self-sabotaging out of all of them

like even if he met his soulmate, i think what he needs is therapy, not romance and would inevitably end up hurting himself and his partner when it turns out his own issues get in the way of his relationship

like he can't actually be fully vulnerable, not able to balance his work and personal life because what he's doing is so personal to him, not being able to settle down, that type of thing

guys i swear i want him to be happy

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER TWELVE

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @slvt4her @uconnpazzi @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @ch12334 @wbb4l @authentic-girl03 @slut4uconnwbb @unadulteratedcyclepaper @kplum10 @fuddfanatic35 @avvwritesstufff @paigesluver @bueckersbitch

warnings a lot of angst this time whoops 🤭

kalena speakss 🪽! so there’s like four chapters left guys woah. i’m sorry for this one and the next one because it’s lowkey just angst but you’ll live 😆

July 2025 — Los Angeles, California

“You did what?”

“Azz—”

“No you dumbass, you did what?” Nika cuts in, her voice echoing through my phone speaker as she repeats Azzi’s question.

I had just landed from our latest road trip, mindlessly trying to unpack and clean up around the apartment. Maraye was coming over and I wanted to have everything looking good by the time she showed up.

I’ve kept our conversations brief over the last couple days. Every time I hear her voice it just triggers my throat to close up and my mouth to get all dry.

But I can’t avoid her anymore. Whether I tell her about Nyla or not, she’s bound to find out. So I’m left with no other choice to tell her.

“You really want me to say it again?” I ask them, turning down the volume on my phone. Each time one of them yells it feels like my ear drum is seconds away from being ruptured.

“You had sex with Nyla? Why the hell would you do that?” Azzi yells again, confirming the fact that she heard me the first time.

Azzi is filled in on the lore more than anyone. So I know she’s irritated, she almost gave me a concussion when I told her about hooking up with her before the championship. I know if we were in the same room now she might actually render my abilities to play.

“I already told you it was an accident.”

“Oh, you accidentally fell into some pussy? Good luck explaining that to Maraye.” Nika laughs at me. I just know if I could see her face she’d be red from laughter.

“You didn’t tell her yet? Oh my—”

Azzi obvious exasperation is cut off when I hear my front door knock. My heart starts beating rapidly in my chest. I swallow the lump in my throat and reach for my phone.

“Yeah, yeah, she’s at the door so we can talk later.” I breathe, not even waiting for a response before hanging up on the group call.

My feet drag against the floor on the way to the door.

I can’t remember the last time I’ve been nervous for a girl to come over to my place. Even when she was here last week, it felt natural. Like she was supposed to be here anyway.

But now my palms are all sweaty and slipping against the silver doorknob.

I think I might stop breathing the second I see her. Raye’s always been perfect, she could be wearing a garbage bag and I’d still think that’s true. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her in person completely barefaced, not even a little blush on her cheeks or mascara on her lashes.

Just her. No enhancers, and looking as beautiful as I’ve ever seen her.

Raye wears that one jacket that every girl in LA seems to own, the Lululemon one. I didn’t get it at first but now I totally get the hype, the navy fabric clings to her arms and waist and everything in between, making her body look otherworldly. The matching shorts, however, are too damn short. I might not be able to control myself.

“So, can I come in?” Her nose scrunches as she asks almost like she’s shy but also teasing me over my gawking.

I don’t even waste any time tugging her arm and pulling her body into mine for me to hold.

I can’t help but grin to myself at how fast she returns the gesture, her arms wrapped around my neck and mine pressed to her lower back. Raye kicks the door shut behind her, humming softly.

It feels light, the hug. Almost like thousands of pounds of weight were lifted off of both of us and now we’re just floating together.

“Someone missed me, huh.”

I let out a breathless laugh, resting my head on top of hers. She smells incredible. “So fuckin’ bad, Raye.”

Raye is pulling back from me slowly, limb by limb detaching from me with a little fight as if they were stuck.

My lip travels between my teeth, looking over her whole outfit once again. Navy looks so good on her, and I start thinking that I might have to buy her more colors of this exact set because of what it’s doing to me.

“This lil set is cute.” I compliment, tugging at the spandex material on her mid thigh.

“Yeah?” Raye asks, looking over her own body. “I was supposed to go to the gym and then you called.”

The statement brings an embarrassing smile to my face. The fact that she dropped what she was doing, changed her plans to come and see me.

I’m embarrassingly whipped over her.

“We can do sum exercise here. No worries.” I smirk. She’s quick to drop a hand from my shoulder to mush my face off to the side.

“Shut up.” Raye giggles, “you wanna get some food?”

I lick my lips as slyly as I can, which really is a lot harder than I thought. There’s something, something that makes my mind run a thousand miles a minute. Her eyes, which I swear I’ve been obsessed with since we first met. Her skin, it’s glowing, looking like glitter that covers her skin. The smell of whatever curl cream she used lingers in my nose.

“Well I needa shower first, and then I wanted to talk.” I explain. My hands trail down to the backs of her thighs, just under the curve of her ass. She lets me, not even fighting me off or telling me that all of this is wrong. It’s the most intimate I’ve ever been with her that hasn’t led to kissing her.

Which makes me want to do it even more.

“About?”

"You." I say gently pushing her back against my front door and Raye raises her eyebrows. "And me." I add on.

Her tongue slightly slips from her lips, poking at the corner in the way it does when she’s concentrating or listening or thinking. She holds the back of my neck with one hand, her acrylics grazing the hair at my nape. I shudder, finger nails subconsciously digging into her skin.

“Okay.”

—

I’m not sure what I thought Paige’s room would look like. Her apartment— large and spacious, floor to ceiling windows, lights that set the mood so well that i’m sure every girl she’s had in here was throwing themselves at her— fits her completely. But her bedroom, is almost bare.

Cream white walls and a bed in the center. Oddly enough, there’s no purple decorating it like I assumed. Her duvet is a tan color, pillows that match, and a white throw blanket that is a nice addition to it.

The mattress nearly sucks me in when I lay back on her bed. Her phone in my hand as I order us some Chinese as per her request.

I can’t help but let my eyes wander. The room is clean. So clean, not a single book or pencil or sock out of place.

A bible sits on her beside table, along with a journal and some pens.

Then the more I look around the more the room becomes Paige. The bible is her, the picture on her full length mirror of her and her siblings, the framed piece of nylon she cut down from the net in April, the affirmations on sticky notes above her dresser. It’s all Paige. Everything that I know makes her the annoyingly smart, beautiful, and sweet blonde that I know her to be.

And she gets to be mine. As soon as I tell her that Julian isn’t my boyfriend anymore, things get to be the way they should be. I get to feel good around her rather than guilty.

Even if I do. If I do feel guilty for enjoying myself around her, I’d live with it. Because it’s Paige, and no matter what she always finds a way to get my mind off of everything.

My ears perk up the second I hear the shower turn off and I swing my feet off the side of the bed, almost in excitement of seeing her face again.

Her phone buzzes avidly on the blanket, just slightly muffled but I still hear it. I reach for it immediately, thinking that It’s our DoorDasher confirming our order. I type in the password she told me, clicking on the message notification.

lmk when you get bored of that LA girl again

i’ll be right here like i always am 😂

When you’re like me, and have been in your fair share of shitty relationships, you sort of become numb to it all. The lying, the hurt, the yelling.

I deal with it through music. Spending hours in the studio or in my room writing. It works. It helps me remember that the Earth will keep spinning.

But for a second, it does feel like the world has stopped. Like the planet, that spins a thousand miles an hour, has come to a complete halt and everything is just crashing around on me.

I have to stop looking, protect what’s left of that goodness in my heart and not keep fucking reading. But my thumb moves anyway. I read this girl’s text to Paige from last Sunday. The day after I stood in her arms and told her I’d make a decision. The night after she told me she’d wait for it.

A texts that reads: “had fun ;)”

That fucking wink. It makes me seethe. I swear it’s meant for me, just to rub it all in my face. My heart thumps so loud, and I feel like I’m underwater just drowning.

Within seconds I’m scrolling through what seems like years of texts messages, years of pictures and intimate texts that make me nauseous.

This has to be what karma feels like. I did it to Julian, right? I kissed and touched on someone else while making a promise to him. And now it’s all getting thrown back at me.

Paige took everything I gave to her, and went and gave it to someone else.

Her bathroom door glides open, a cast of steam coming into the room and she follows. “Are you sure y’on’t want anything more comfy to wear? Y’look sexy, but I can—”

Paige stops when she sees I’m not looking at her but rather that my eyes are trained to her phone.

“Ma, you aight?”

“Let me know when you get bored of that LA girl again, I’ll be right here like I always am. Paige, do you take me for a joke?” I ask her, rereading the text out loud to her before finally looking up.

I can’t let her see my tears, the ones that build and poole at my waterline, but Goddamnit they sting. Everything does. My throat feels small, the lump in my throat huge in contrast. And I want to cry. Like all this, all the confusion and the trust and the happiness she made me feel was all for nothing.

I see all the color drain from her face in an instant. Her shoulders dropping.

Paige only has on a sports bra and some sweatpants, the white towel around her neck picks up all the water that drips from that perfect blonde hair, and I’m so mad at myself for thinking about how irresistible she looks.

It’s entirely too reminiscent of the first time we met, when she was all flushed as sweaty and standing there looking like everything I’ve ever wanted.

Now I look at her and just feel like a boulder is crushing my chest.

“Raye.” She starts, stalking over to me and I stand up, feeling like that’s the best thing I can do to stop her from touching me. “Baby, just listen.”

“Me? Listen? To what. Listen to you lie to me about how you just want me? Because you obviously don’t.” I shake my head at her. “It took you 24 hours, Paige. 24 hours and you were fucking some other girl.”

“I—” She starts, sighing and tossing the towel in her hand on the bed. “I thought you chose him and I got drunk.” She babbles. Each step she takes towards me sets me off just a little more, and I feel suffocated.

“I didn’t! God!”

“What?”

“I didn’t fucking choose him, Paige. We broke up, I ended it. But instead of communicating with me when I called you, you went all silent on me.”

My voice cracks as I feel my composure slipping. It’s unbelievable, the entirety of it all.

“But now it all makes sense. You were with her.” I laugh, except it’s not funny. I think it’s the only thing I can do to stop me from lashing out at her, screaming and crying and fighting her in a way that makes me look like the bad guy.

Paige’s eyes flicker. And I know her. The confident and slightly cocky blonde girl that would double down on anything. She’s stubborn, more than me, so when I see it; the slight hint of guilt in those crystalline blue eyes, I know she’s not going to say anything I want her to.

“Wait a minute, you don’t get to be mad at me over this.” She shoots. The words hit my heart violently, sharp, like a knife. “You were with him. The whole time, who I was with is not something you get to be mad over.”

“You knew, Paige! You knew I was with Julian. And I fuckin’ told you over and over that this had to stop. Don’t turn it back on me when it’s what you wanted.” I defend, my voice cracking under her gaze.

She’s nearly unrecognizable. This isn’t Paige. Or at least the Paige I knew and fell for, because I thought she would never do something like this to me, yet she did.

Paige takes a step back from me, running her fingers through her wet hair.

“You don’t have the right to tell me what I can and can’t be mad about. I trusted you.”

“Julian trusted you.” She says, bitter and harsh. “But that didn’t stop you from kissin’ me and tellin’ me you have feelings for me, right?”

“That’s not the same—”

“It’s exactly the same, Maraye!” She yells. “But I’m tellin’ you the truth. I’m tellin’ you straight what happened, and you ain’t even do that for him.”

Maybe it’s the way she says it all like it certain. Like she knows me so well that she assumed I didn’t tell Julian anything. Or even the way her voice is so animalistic, full of emotion that I’ve never heard from her. But I lose it. All that is left of my composure, if you could even call it that, goes down the drain and I’m breaking down.

The tears in my eyes finally slip, making my lashes stick together. They’re hot, burning my cheeks.

I hate that I’m letting her see me cry, hate that she gets to see me this emotional. She doesn’t deserve to see me cry. Paige doesn’t deserve to know that she hurt me this bad.

At the same time, I want her to see it. To understand how fucking stupid her actions were. That what she did hurt me to my core, because I don’t even cry in front of people like this. But I am for her. I’m crying, and the tears don’t fucking stop falling.

“You think you know me! You don’t know me, Paige.” My eyes narrow and my arms fall to my sides. “I told him everything. I told him that you made me feel different, so much better than he ever could. A-and I told him I was sorry. I fuckin’ apologized for having feelings for you. I owned up to it, and I messed up so many times but you, God, Paige, you made it all worth it.”

When I look at Paige she isn’t even looking at my eyes. She always does, but now she looks at the ceiling, frustratingly running her hand over her chin.

“And you didn’t. You didn’t tell me the truth, I found out myself like an idiot.” I scream until my voice is raw. Her phone in my hand feels like hot coal, burning my hand and then burning a hole in her sheets when I throw it there. “Fell for you like an idiot.” I murmur under my breath.

“Hol’ on, Angel. C’mon.” Paige says. It’s soft, the quietest her voice has been all night. Of course Paige hears me. She steps to me again, reaching for my hand that I pull back with haste.

“You don’t get to call me that.”

“I made a mistake. A huge fucking mistake, but that doesn’t mean we can’t work this shit out.” Paige reaches for me again, I throw my hands away from her, hitting my hand on her bedside table and breaking a nail in the process.

“Fuck.” I groan, shaking my hand off and turning away from her. “Move!” I yell, stepping to the side so she isn’t that damn close to me.

“Raye—”

“I don’t trust you.” I breathe, shrugging my shoulders at her and trying to wipe the tears that stain my cheeks. “It’s not about working this out. You broke my trust and y’can’t even apologize for it.”

“Jus’ listen. Please.” I hear her voice crack, that guilt I could pick up on when she first came out of the bathroom so evident in the way she looks at me.

Paige’s blue eyes are rimmed with red, I nearly scoff. She doesn’t get to cry. She did this, she went to her, confided in her instead of talking to me. I shake my head in an attempt to wrap my head around all of this.

“I’m sorry.” And I thought that hearing it would make it all better but my chest just burns. I’m honestly running out of patience because this isn’t working. I’ve made up my mind, she’s done something so fucking unforgivable and it’s sad. I never would’ve imagined it from Paige.

“Really, baby. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I can’t do this.” I blurt like word vomit. “I just can’t. Ion even wanna look at you right now, Paige.”

“Maraye.”

“I’m gonna go.” I say under my breath, nodding as if that’s what I’ve decided to do. I reach for my phone on the dresser, trying to ignore the pulsing feeling in my broken fingernail. The room suddenly feels so small, suffocating. Filled with hot air and lingering insults.

Paige looks at me incredulously. Almost shocked that I was willing to leave it at this, that I didn’t want to hear her out. “I-that’s it? We’re not gonna talk? You just gonna leave like none of this shit matters.” Her voice is low, throat almost scratched raw.

“I don’t know what to say to you that’s not gonna make this worse.” I explain.

“I can fix it, Raye. Please.”

It’s so hard. Hard to not fall victim to everything that she is and give her what she wants.

Believe it or not, I want to, I want to hear her out and have her tell me just how much she regrets it all.

But every time I look at her, I keep thinking about that girl. That girl who had Paige first, seemingly long before I did. Who had her hands in Paige’s hair the same way I do when she’s laying on my couch with her head on my shoulder.

That girl who got to feel Paige’s lips. Soft and plump with that enticing color of pink. The same lips that told me she felt something for me, told me that she’d give me time. The lips that made me feel like I was the only person in the world to her.

Don’t even start on the image of the two of them— a girl who’s probably prettier than I am or funnier or impossibly more into her than I am, and my perfect blue eyed Paige— being together in a way that we haven’t. Kissing and touching and moaning together.

Being together.

It’s nauseating.

So I just turn around, dragging myself to her hallway and to her front door. I can hear her soft footsteps following after me fast. I sniffle as I slip my shoes on, hoping that if I leave just fast enough I can hang on to the words she said to me before she slept with someone else. The words that let me know that it was just us.

Maybe those are enough to get me to forgive her, eventually.

But right now. I can’t.

So I leave. The door slamming shut behind me, and more tears falling before I even get a chance to stop them.

[merowkittie]

Sugar Baby — Capt. John Price . Epilogue

summary: after a breakup with an ex, you end up on dating apps looking for someone to bring you some fun; entertainment. you happen to meet a military man, who’s looking for the same thing, but to spoil. who are you to decline his message asking if you wanted to be his sugar baby and tend to some of his needs?

warnings: abusive toxic ex / age gap (reader is like 24 in my head, price is late 30’s) / sugar daddy/baby dynamics / r calls john daddy / nsfw this get nastyyy (later on)

note: hi sweets, i’m officially writing again and i’m so excited to start this mini series with a little backstory/epilogue. i will say the reader is written gender neutral (do note that i use fem images to layout settings/tones for my fics!!) and i do write my reader as black presenting esp feature wise :). i may slip up and use some feminine elements here and there but it will be overall neutral.

enjoy sweets ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ഒ

“No Cass, you don’t understand, he sat there and played in my face for 2 years! There’s nothing to be calm about.” An aggravated sigh left your mouth as the hand holding your phone shook in anger. Your knuckles were white from the grip you were holding the poor thing in. Your free hand held the bridge of your nose as you tilted your head back, resting against the tub.

Sat in your bathtub inside of the small apartment, you thought taking a nice soothing rose water bath would relax you. It did everything but that. Even with the dim lights, candles for aromatherapy, and the oils that were infused with the bath water, your nerves were high and everything was telling you to do something!

Luckily your great friend Cass was here to save the day. She was on the phone telling you to look for other options, people come and go, live life and have fun.

“There’s no use getting hung up on a man that wants nothing to do with you, babe.” she said on the other end of the phone. Cass was always the type to forget about a man the next day and fuck one the next morning and she was trying to convert you to do the same thing.

You were never like that. Simply reserved and let things come to you. One thing Cass always applauded you on was your patience but she’s seeing now how little you have left.

“I swear i should’ve listened to my gut before. You know i’m always right!”

“Always. You’re like my own personal 8 ball!” Cass giggled on the other end. “Is your gut telling you to do something specific right now?”

For a moment you stopped and tried to see if your gut was tingling and it was. Your eyes drifted to a wine bottle by your side, pink moscato.

With a hum you looked down at the bath water and thought to yourself about different things to do.

“My gut is telling me to get drunk and break this bottle over his head.” You smiled to yourself as you placed the phone on the floor, putting it on speaker and grabbing the wine bottle.

Cass laughed at the idea. Knowing her, she’d be down for that and way more. A night out with the two of you meant hangovers, no regrets, and pleasure for the whole night and maybe the morning after. “I’m down but not tonight. Mom’s over and she’s gonna go nuts if she sees me in my club outfit.” She groaned at the thought.

You chuckled at that and sighed, back to square one of figuring out what to do with a wasted night.

It was silent between the two of you for a minute, you casually sipped on the wine, thinking about how you could’ve fucked up, why he didn’t tell you how he was feeling, and who the bitch was that he cheated on you with. As far as you were aware, he had an affair with someone for a year while you two were together.

You only found out because he came home smelling like perfume that wasn’t yours and drunk talking about how he fucked someone on your last anniversary. What a loser.

“Listen, you know he was like borderline abusive to you right?” She pointed out. Reminding you on what type of person he really was. “He wouldn’t even let you hang out with me half the time. Rarely let you go out by yourself, and let’s not talk about that time i caught him hitting you during the spring party at work..”

Shaking your head, you gently massaged your temples.

When she walked in on that, you had to beg her not to call anyone or the police, in fear of what he could do to you after the fact. That day was the first time he hit you, and for some reason it continued randomly but rarely after.

Sometimes he’d pull you into him, loving you and telling you he’d always be there, then you’d do something like break a dish, hangout with Cass, or get catcalled when you’re minding your business and then the whole relationship is ruined and he’s angry. He never could control his anger properly.

“Yea.. You’re right and I only put myself through that because I thought he meant how he felt for me.. but Cass this is hard.” You took a long sip of your moscato, thinking back to how he treated you.

“I just don’t want you going through that again. I know you’re a strong girl on your own, you could totally whoop my ass.” She joked, “But let’s get over this piece of shit? I mean he really wasn’t worth it anyways. We can go clubbing soon and get hot men to buy us drinks.”

You both giggled at the idea. That was how most of your nights went. It didn’t help you two befriended like half the bouncers in the area.

“Hey babe are you down for idea time?” Cass asked.

“Yea, what’s up?”

“Ok, so I think you should get on a dating app. Don’t hate yet!—” she cut off your loud obnoxious sigh, knowing you have a disdain for those apps. “I’ll help you set your account up right now. You know what the men look like on some of these?? HOT!”

At this point you felt a tad desperate but hey, it was worth a try right? Who knows, maybe you could find someone who will treat you right for once.

“Oh god. Ok Cass.. let me prepare myself though.” You whined as you took one last big swing of your wine before picking your phone back up and downloading one of the dreaded dating apps she sent you.

She began to instruct you on how to set your account up, specific pictures to put, a bio describing yourself and etc. It was relatively easy and by the time you finished you left your bath and sat in your bedroom wrapped in a silk robe smelling like coconuts and vanilla, a night outfit, and a bonnet to hold your locs.

You bickered about some of the people you came across, who was cute, ugly, who looked like they had money, and just browsed through different options both male and female.

Cass wasn’t feeling half of the people who matched you and you weren’t really either. They either didn’t meet your tastes, not pretty in the face, or just gave bad vibes.

Until after giving up for half an hour and playing imessage games, your phone went off with a message reading.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

At first you were confused and talked it over with Cass, trying to remember who this John was and how he looked before your horny ass must’ve fast matched him.

“Wait isn’t this the dilf we were screaming over??” She said over the phone, you could tell she was getting excited.

Your eyes lit up and the gears turned in your head. While waiting for interesting people you came across a man named John Price, and his bio said how he was a man in the military looking for a potential sugar baby to talk to when he was home.

This obviously piqued your interests because the one photo he provided that showed his muscled body in a dress suit and looking away made your mouth drool in seconds.

He was a sight to take in and if he needed someone to just talk to him, you were ready.

“Oh Shit! Ok, Cass I need to lock in. I will call you back when i’m done with an update.” You promised into the mic of your phone.

She giggled and said her goodbyes before hanging up.

Now alone with this sexy man texting you, you were a bit nervous but so so excited for a possibility.

Opening the dm, you began to type.

“Hey Handsome.”

You bit your lip anticipating his incoming reply. He was quite the mystery man from the singular photo on his account and little information in his bio.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing swiping on my profile?”

A giggle left your lips like a school girl with a crush when you read the compliment. A ‘pretty thing’. It’s good to know he finds you attractive.

Y: “I liked what I saw.

It’s nice to know you think i’m pretty. <3”

J: “More than. You’re beautiful, darling.

Tell me a bit about yourself, yea?”

Y: “What do you want to know? I’m pretty much an open book. ;)”

J: “That’s good to know.

What’re you interested in?”

You began to tell John about your interests, even asking about his. The way he spoke through these messages held a tone of authority, dominance. He guided the conversation and you didn’t feel bored at all throughout your talking. He was also constantly complimenting you, praising you on things you’ve accomplished. John was pulling you in quickly, you knew you’d have to keep him around.

You learned that he’s a captain in the military and that’s it about his work life. He didn’t seem to like to speak about it too much, rather more interested in your work and social life instead. In the back of your mind was still his little comment in his bio mentioning how he was looking for a sugar baby.

And It’s like he read your mind because after a while of talking about each other he finally asked,

J: “Sweetheart, you’re really piquing my interest. You don’t got a boyfriend at home?”

Y: “Nope. Why? Interested in filling that spot?”

J: “Haha. You don’t want me, lovie.”

Y: “But what if i do?

We don’t have to be in a relationship.. We can be fuck buddies. ;)”

J: “Dirty girl.

You wanna be my sugar baby? I need a sweet naughty thing like you.”

To say you were gagged would be an understatement. You sat for a minute or two looking over the text and thinking through your head. What would this entitle? You’ve never done something somewhat scandalous like this. Though you didn’t want to make him wait and think over this way too long. So you went with that gut feeling and replied with your yes.

Y: “Only if i’m going to be spoiled with the best?”

J: “Nothing but the best and more. You don’t deserve anything less.”

Y: “Then yes. When’s our first meeting then daddy? 💋”

J: “I can take you to a bar tomorrow night. Nothing shabby, it’s fancy and I’ll say they have the best Margarita’s and Manhattan’s I’ve ever tasted.

And we can talk about some rules to establish here?”

Y: “Rules? Why not talk about them now?”

J: “I’d rather discuss all of that in person. Don’t worry your pretty head though.

Only one rule. Shouldn’t be hard yea?”

Y: “Hmm so i have to wait until tmrw?”

J: “Precisely. You should love the bar though.”

Y: “Should i get dolled up then? ;)”

J: “Yes. I’ll pick you up around 9. Send me your address and your number?”

Y: “You’re not gonna kidnap me are you captain military man?”

J: “No darling. Not looking to scare away a pretty lady.”

Y: “Hmm. Ok then. Here’s my number and address xx-xxxx xxxx.

Don’t stand me up. And don’t kidnap me!!!”

J: “Wouldn’t dream of it.

Goodnight, Baby.”

Y: “Goodnight, Handsome.”

With that you turned your phone off and closed your eyes, inhaling deeply to register the events that have just occurred. So many questions were running through your mind though so much thrill and excitement was replacing it quickly.

Was this man a blessing after such distressing weeks? Maybe this was your fun and entertainment you were looking for.

You’d have to figure that out tomorrow night.

Taglist: @joufrance @muddy-rat @iluvyvonne @scnee @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @vkeyy @somewhatfantasticalreality @starriestarlight @blues-of-neptune @ohdrey89 @serialkillerattracterhopefully

(lmk if you want to be added for future parts!)

[elvensorceress]

saturday snippet of longing and pining and being completely unaware of your own feelings! (feelings are hard, okay)

@tizniz @hippolotamus @livinginsunnyhell @eddiebabygirldiaz @spotsandsocks @thelikesofus @monsterrae1 @ronordmann @wh0rebehavi0r @epicbuddieficrecs @chaosandwolves @singitforthegirls @daffi-990 @lonelychicago @sofa-king-lame @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @blutterlie @sazanahashi @smilingbuckley @inell @bekkachaos @evaneds @rainbow-nerdss 💕

more of this 🥰

"I don’t know how anyone could not want you.”

Buck stares at him again with that piercing, soul-rending gaze that skewers directly through Eddie’s chest. But then Buck closes his eyes and shakes his head with a sardonic huff. “He’s straight. So. Doesn’t really work that way.”

Probably says something that Eddie’s first thought is, why not?

Why would it matter? Who would even care about sexuality if it were Buck offering his heart? Attraction is made up bullshit anyway. Who actually looks at someone and wants them when you know nothing about each other? Who wants to fuck just because they think someone is good looking? No one falls in love at first sight. It’s romanticized, telenovela fiction. And people lying to themselves because they’re lonely or want attention or orgasms or whatever. 

There’s a lot you can convince yourself of when you’re lonely, heartbroken, afraid you’ll die alone, afraid you’re a failure as a person, a husband, a partner. There’s a lot someone might do to be what other people want. There’s a lot that gets cut out and tucked away in order to be what you’re supposed to. 

All the more reason Eddie judges and dislikes anyone Buck dates. He’s totally justified. None of them get him and they don’t adequately appreciate him at all and Buck deserves all the love in the universe. At the very least, he deserves someone who will love him just as much and just as fiercely as Buck loves them. 

“Weren’t you ‘straight’ until Tommy?” Eddie asks. “Or— not that it was dependent on him, not that he did anything— but you thought you were straight until you realized you liked him. Right?” 

Buck looks at him, stares too hard at him for far too long and it makes goosebumps wash all over Eddie’s skin. The hair on the back of his neck prickles and swishing, churning flips through his stomach. 

“Yeah,” Buck answers quietly. “I don’t think that’s the case here though. Doesn’t matter. It’s not— It’s late. Too late. It’s really too late. We should sleep.”

Yeah. They should. Eddie has a long day of more packing to do tomorrow and another long distance tour with the realtor. Even if thoughts are whirling in his head. Too many thoughts. 

How does Buck know it’s unrequited? How does he know what he’s feeling now if he didn’t before? Did something change? How the hell would Tommy supposedly know if Buck didn’t know? 

How does Buck feel when he likes someone? 

How does anyone feel when they like someone? How do you know if you do? Is there supposed to be something you feel when you’re looking at someone beautiful? How would you know they’re beautiful if all you know about them is how they look? 

How do you feel anything for someone? Especially if you don’t know them? People say sex is better with someone you love, but is that more romanticized bullshit lies? Probably not. Sex is overrated honestly. It’s fine. Mostly. Just. Not what everyone seems to say it is. Nothing earth shattering or life changing. Nothing all that intimate either. Not technically. It’s just distant, avoidant, using each other for a moment of relief. He and Shannon did it so they didn’t have to talk. When they didn’t want to talk or actually be close. They didn’t have to go on dates or bare their souls or anything. They could just take off some clothes. 

Isn’t that what everyone does? Isn’t that the difference between dating someone versus being friends with them? 

Is it supposed to be different? Is that why people like sex? Because it’s different for them? 

Does anyone actually feel the kinds of intense, fervent, passionate emotions that people make up stories about? Isn’t romance just another fantasy? Like fairy tale magic and otherworldly phenomena? Like dragons and unicorns and mythical creatures? It’s a nice fantasy, but still a fantasy. None of it is real. 

Love isn’t sex or attraction or beautiful people being beautiful. None of that is love. 

Love is sacrifice. Connection. It’s blood and battle and being torn apart. Giving up everything because there’s no alternative. Because you’re not whole anymore without the person you love. They’re part of you. So losing them is losing yourself. 

Is that all love is? Loss? 

Eddie reaches out and holds onto Buck’s shoulder. They should sleep. He’s tired, too. But there’s heaviness in his chest and a swirl of despair whirlpooling inside him. It’s small now, but it’s been growing and he needs to hold onto Buck. 

When it’s not enough to just grip his shoulder, Eddie lets his hand slide down until it’s again resting on Buck’s chest and he can gently rub back and forth a few times. He hopes it’s comforting. He hopes Buck knows he’s not alone. Eddie won’t let him be alone. Someone will love Buck the way he should be. 

A wave of envious aching crashes through Eddie’s chest and he swallows hard. Buck should be loved. Buck is loved. Maybe not the way he wants. But Eddie loves him. Every beat, every breath, every single shred of his soul holds love for Buck. It might not be enough, but it is there. Eddie would love him until Buck finds someone he wants who loves him properly. 

Eddie would love him after that, too. Even when Buck is happy and settled and doesn’t need him anymore. 

Buck takes Eddie’s hand and holds it tightly as he closes his eyes. He doesn’t turn back around. And he doesn’t let go. 

Eddie just wants to inch closer and hold tighter. 

There’s something faded, slipping away like tides and wet sand through his fingers. 

Why can’t he keep this?

Why can’t this be the answer? Why can’t Eddie love him the way he wants? Why can’t Buck love Eddie this way? Why can’t they be in love with each other? 

[altgojo]

the morning 🫧☀️🧡 (katsuki bakugo/reader!)

summary: you weren’t much of a morning person to begin with, but life molds people into one, for work purposes. That until both you and your dearest (grumpiest) boyfriend got a day off. Here comes the best day ever!! wc: 598 words (I know I know it’s not much 😭😭) author’s note: uh…soo hi everyone!! I have been doing everything but writing because life has (and still) been kicking my ass so yup, I literally did some final touches to this Drabble here because I’ve had it sitting in the drafts for quite a while. Also, I have a physics test this week so yeah you probably won’t hear from me for a while but I’ll try to write from time to time lol. ENJOY!!!

The sun was softly gleaming, casting beautiful shadows across the room. Soft rustling sounds can be also heard from the the leaves rustling onto the window’s glass. 

You were soo glad that you were finally able to spend some good quality time with your boyfriend, since most of your mornings are rather fast paced, leaving you with no time to soak in each other’s warmth. Moments like this are rather rare as he is always engrossed in his work. Hero duties and all, as he says in his gruff voice whenever you would complain about his...rather…workaholic work ethic. Although, you get him somedays to come home early to you. Most of the time, he is as stubborn as a mule. But, you would always forgive him nonetheless, because you know that he is a good person at heart, and he can’t help it but try harder and harder to be a better hero, just to help people.

That’s why you were very much excited to spend some time with him, in bed, just having a casual lazy morning. His huge arm would keep you pinned on the mattress by your waist as he gently breathes, accompanied with some little snores here and there, you try your hardest not to chuckle as you don’t want to wake him up, you just want to silently enjoy the daily early hours of birds chirping while gazing at his beautiful face. That’s until he wakes up, taking in his surroundings as he hugs u even more tighter.

“Goodmorning.” He mutters as sleep didn’t completely abolish off of him, slowly blinking, then he looks down, meeting your eyes as silence was the only response he’s gotten.

“I said goodmorning, what’s up with you?” Katsuki grumbled as he kept looking right at you, trying to decipher what’s going on, as he kept staring, you slowly smile at him. Unable to control your expression, you burst laughing right at his face, your face contorting as you saw the utter disbelief and annoyance on his face, causing you to laugh harder. His face would soon turn into his consistant, mundane angry expression.

“What the hell is this? Why are you acting like this at like 8 in the morning?! So annoying…” he grumbled with his bottom lip slightly gutting out, is he pouting..?!.

Katsuki just wanted to enjoy one of his few day offs in bed, with you. But instead, you pull this shit up. Is he slightly (really) annoyed at your childish antics? Yes. 

Is he mad at you? No. 

And that conclusion in return annoys the hell out of him because no matter what you do, he would never get mad at you. Atleast not completely. 

With his arm still pulling you to him possessively, you scoot even closer, nuzzling yourself into his chest, enjoying the close proximity. As you stayed like this for a while, you kept hearing his puffs and grunts get progressively louder by the second. He was getting excessively grumpy, and you knew just the right thing to do. 

“I’m sorry kat, I didn’t mean to anger you, I just wanted to tease you, please forgive me?” You almost coo softly at him, giving him a peck onto his jawline. 

He huffs, the air gently tickles your neck. Then, he flips both of you right over to the other side of the bed, taking you by surprise.

“What the hell katsuki! You scared the shit out of me!!”

It took you a few minutes to register your newfound position. Katsuki was infact, on top of you. Smirking nonetheless at the helpless expression adorning your face.

Shit.

You are totally fucked.

[strawberry-halla]

now im probably the many few people who actually agreed with the way bioware handled varric’s death and here’s why:

varric has been one of the most prominent dragon age characters since dragon age 2’s release. he’s basically the mascot (well, i think solas has stolen this role now but i digress), the character everybody loves! varric has been there since almost the beginning, over 10 years of our favorite dwarf.

this is the thing that hangs people up on his death in veilguard. why did they do it? why did it happen? what was bioware thinking? well i’m not expert but i think i have a pretty good idea.

varric has always been the friend who supports you no matter what, the one to pull you away from the heavy decisions the player makes to make you laugh or try to see the bright side. he made the player feel good and your character feel good, no matter who you’re playing as.

we saw this lovable dwarf go through so much tragedy in every media possible. he was dealt a bad hand at every corner but the good parts were the friends he made along the way. even if they did something bad in the end (anders and solas), varric still sees the person they were underneath everything.

so yes i think his choice to talk to solas, only to end up dying, was how it was going to end for him. varric cares so much about his friends and eventually, one of them was going to fuck that up. he got lucky so many times, escaping death at every turn. if varric would have went home to kirkwall as viscount for the rest of his days, i don’t think that would be a good end for him.

it’s a pretty thought to have, but it’s just NOT varric. he wanted to help the inquisition and he wanted to help save/stop solas because he knew him. they were friends. good ones. so of course it makes sense varric is the one to go after him.

now i think it would have been worse if varric was dead from the start of veilguard (well, he is but we don’t know that yet) because it definitely doesn’t ease the player into the reality of it. so making him a figment of solas’s blood magic on rook was a very clever way to ease them and us into accepting his death. i cannot think of a better way if i tried.

varric’s relationship with rook was so important. he was basically a mentor, a father figure for some. his role in veilguard is not a waste. rook as a character needed their mentor to ease them into this leadership. i think it would have been incredibly jarring to just have rook suddenly know how to lead the veilguard without having someone to talk to about their struggles. solas would have worked fine, but his role as the antagonist for most of the game would have made a really unrealistic connection.

and yes. i know varric’s memory is being manipulated by solas’s hand, but solas himself says that varric would never say anything to rook that they already didn’t know from him. varric’s guidance was still at play here, not solas. he just kept up the illusion varric was still alive to make sure rook would succeed. it’s incredibly shitty of him to goad this at rook, but he was never entirely wrong that rook had varric to help them. they did have varric, even when he wasn’t there. varric’s lessons and memory alone were enough.

and when rook and the player finally come to this realization in the regret prison, it just hits you all at once. i cried for about two hours once the scene ended. i had to pause my game, get up, and walk away. it was like losing a best friend. and i know how silly it sounds to mourn the loss of a video game character, but varric was more than that to many. to me. i just needed a bit to recover from the realization.

varric made a choice. one that got him killed. but he knew that it was the right one to make. solas regrets what he did to varric. he even says if he could, he wouldn’t have done it. it was an accident. a horrible accident that doesn’t justify what solas did. there is no glory in needless death. but this isn’t about solas.

varric in all his goodness as a person FORGAVE solas for this. he knew solas was still good. deep, deep down. that solas ‘wants to be the hero’ and would tear himself apart to make things better. i don’t know about you but it’s incredibly insane that someone forgives their murderer. especially varric! who said in inquisition: ‘nobody forgives someone for killing you!’ like it came full circle.

varric’s death was necessary for us and for solas’s story. i know it sounds incredibly silly to us that one character’s redemption is another’s downfall, but isn’t that how things work sometimes? you don’t have to like it or agree with it, but that’s just one thing i find so fascinating about dragon age’s characters and how they interact with one another throughout the series.

there’s an incredible post by @/corseque that explains the parallels between varric and solas that really ties this all together. please go read it if you haven’t!

i’m so so glad we had so many good memories of varric and his legacy will forever live on in-universe and amongst fans. now’s the time to make new ones with our new favorites, shall we? and we can still honor varric’s memory by writing stories, of course.

[willowsnook]

coach's daughter

hii can i get ham and swiss on rye mikes way 🙏

a/n: I wrote this whole thing, forgetting it was supposed to have smut and didn't really feel like it fit. i am sorry :( but I could do a pt. 2 with it if anyone wants it

joe burrow x taylor!reader

just let me in

———————————————————

Joe had known quite a few coaches in his football career and, for the most part, liked them all. They were all good people that he got along with well. Zac was no different when it came to that, but there was one thorn in their relationship: his 23-year-old daughter. 

You did not like Joe Burrow. You didn’t really have a reason not to like him, but you just didn’t. You liked underdogs, always drifting towards the undrafted guys on the team, and he was the opposite of that. It’s not like you were out right mean to him, you just regarded him with cold indifference. Everyone’s infatuation with him made you dislike him more, much to your father’s dismay. Your dad was your best friend, and he had made sure you were by his side ever since you were a kid, which meant that football was also your life. You’d studied sports management at Cincinnati and now worked on the scouting team for the Bengals. You knew you only got your foot in the door because of your dad, but why waste opportunities right in front of you? 

This season had been rough, and you felt it at work and every time you talked to your dad. He was quieter, dejected almost, as he tried to figure out how to move the team forward. It didn’t help either that some players spoke more candidly with the press about the struggles. 

“I’ve done everything I can on the field. Ask the coaches, ask Zac, man, I don’t know,” Ja’Marr told a reporter who asked what could have been done differently after another loss.

The comment made you feel conflicted because, on the one hand, he was right, and you knew football well enough to know that. But on the other hand, it was your dad, and you knew your dad. You know how great of a coach he can be. Leaving the facility that night, you were irritated and, of course, had to run into the one person who you knew would make it worse. 

“Hey,” Joe said as he followed you out the door into the private parking lot. 

“Hey,” you replied, your voice clipped and he sighed next to you.

“Why the attitude? " he said, and you didn’t say anything; you just kept walking towards your car. You’d made it and were just about to open the car when you felt Joe grab your arm, forcing you to turn around. “I don’t agree with what Ja’Marr said.” 

“I find that hard to believe,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “You are two peas in a pod. I’m sure you’ve talked about it.”

“We are two different people ya know,” he argued, eyes narrowing. “He’s upset. We all are.”

“I’m upset too Joe, but what the fuck do you want me to do about it right now? I don’t care if you do agree with Ja’Marr, why are you cornering me in a parking lot to tell me that?” You snapped and you could tell he was starting to get annoyed. 

“I was just going to my car but thought it might be a good idea to be nice to you, but I guess I was wrong,” he said, frustrated, and you took a step closer to him. 

“I don’t need you to be nice to me, I need you to do your fucking job on the field,” you shot back. Logically, you knew there was nothing he was doing wrong on the field, but you were too mad to admit that. 

“Tell your dad to do his first,” he automatically said, and you flinched back, eyes blinking, trying to process whether he actually said that. 

“i didn-,” he started but you held up your hand to stop him from continuing. 

“Heard,” was all you replied before turning and getting into your car. The audacity of that man. He stood frozen watching you as you pulled out of the lot, praying that his words didn’t reach your dad’s ears. 

————————————————

You didn’t tell your dad what Joe had said; you were trying to keep anything the press was saying about him away, which was difficult considering he had a phone, but hell, you were trying. The weeks were starting to wear you down, and along with doing your workload, you were carrying a lot of emotional weight for your dad.

The two of you were closer than most dads and daughters, and you saw it as part of your job as his daughter to get him through this. For the past two weeks, you have been doing deep analysis of both games and talking it over with him, highlighting good things and how he could expand on them moving forward. Because of this, you have been running on about 5 hours of sleep each night, less on the weekends when you have to travel for college games.

Clocking in another late night at the facility, you were stopped on your way out by the sight of two people on the field throwing the ball back and forth. Curious, you stepped out and realized it was Joe and Ja’Marr getting some reps in during the cold night.

Ja’Marr noticed you first, jogging over to meet you as you stepped out on the field. Joe turned to see what he was looking at and hesitated as he saw you.

“Late night practice?” You joked with a forced smile.

“Thought it couldn’t hurt,” Ja’Marr said before looking at the ground. “I’m sorry for what I said about coach. I know you aren’t him but I’m sure it didn’t feel good hearing it.”

“It’s alright,” you said, looking at him. “We’re all going through it.”

Joe frowned at your response to Ja’Marr, which turned into a slight pout. “I don’t understand why you bit my head off about this, but you are being nice to him, and he’s the one who said it.”

“He doesn’t irritate me like you do,” you said, rolling your eyes. Ja’Marr smirked, looking between the two of you.

“I don’t even do anything to you,” Joe complained and you shrugged.

“What are you guys really doing out here?” You asked, catching them both off guard. You didn’t miss the nervous glance Ja’Marr gave to Joe so you turned to him waiting.

“I’m worried about my wrist in the cold,” he admitted, bracing for impact of what he imagined would be a million more questions from you.

“Okay. Get on with it,” you said, and Ja’Marr nodded, running back out. You stayed rooted where you were standing, wrapping your arms around yourself to try and keep a little warm. Joe was looking at you, trying to figure out what you were doing, but eventually accepted it. He tugged off his sweatshirt, leaving him in only a tight long sleeve, and handed it to you.

“I’m fine,” you said stubbornly and he gave you a look.

“Put it on,” he said in a tone that left no room for argument, so you begrudgingly slipped the hoodie over your head. You stood watching for about 10 rounds of passing before walking closer to Joe, eyebrows furrowed. He looked at you expectantly.

“You have a problem,” you stated and he stiffened, nervous about what you were thinking.

“It’s my first time doing it tonight, and I think it will feel better if I keep at it. It feels okay now, just a little stiff,” he started off, but you shook your head, stopping him.

“You have a mental problem, it’s not the physical wrist,” you told him and he rolled his eyes.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“How could you even know that? You’re not me,” he said and your eyes hardened at his stubbornness.

“Ja’Marr, come here,” you yelled and the receiver jogged over. “Are you getting the same passes you normally get from Joe?”

Ja’Marr shifted nervously, “he’s throwing good passes.”

“That wasn’t the question,” you said, and Ja’Marr finally shook his head no as Joe glared at him. Your eyes softened as you looked back at Joe. “You’re hesitating. Afraid of re-injury, which is completely normal.”

Joe's jaw clenched as he processed your words. He wanted to deny it, to argue that you didn't know what you were talking about. But deep down, he knew you were right. The fear of re-injuring his wrist had been gnawing at him, affecting his performance more than he wanted to admit.

"So what if I am?" he finally said, his voice low and defensive. "It's not like I can just turn it off."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. Despite your usual animosity towards Joe, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy. "Look, I'm not saying it's easy. But you need to address it if you want to move past it."

Ja'Marr nodded in agreement. "She's right, man. We've all noticed it, but didn't want to say anything."

Joe's shoulders slumped slightly in defeat and you felt a wave of sadness wash over you.

“We have a team psychologist for a reason,” you said. “No one has to know.”

He nodded and you could tell his mind was reeling. Deciding that it was time to go home you started to lift up the hoodie he gave you but he stopped you.

“It’ll be cold going home, so just give it to me sometime later,” he said, and you nodded. Waving goodbye to Ja’Marr, you headed off the field, your mind focused on a certain quarterback.

———————————————————————

Something was off with you, but Joe couldn’t figure out what it was. You looked tired, he thought, and you weren’t taking jabs at him when he provoked you anymore. It was starting to irritate him mostly because you had figured him out so quickly. He contemplated this as he headed towards Zac’s office, stopping short when he saw you outside of it talking to a couple of assistants.

“I saw the interview this morning. I don’t think he’s seen it yet, so let's try our best to make sure it’s not brought up. I already talked with PR this morning, who is trying to distract away from it.”

The assistants nodded as you finished talking, and everything started to click for Joe. You were trying your best to shield your dad from the negative so that he could focus on fixing the team, but it was clearly taking a toll on you.

He walked into Zac’s office a couple of minutes after you and saw Zac looking over some papers you had just handed him. You gave him a small smile as he entered and turned to leave. Joe sat down, waiting for Zac to dive into the meeting.

“God, this team would fall apart without her,” he muttered and looked up to see Joe, curiously looking at him. “She’s been writing up game analysis from this year with suggestions and whatnot, trying to keep me focused. Maybe the team wouldn’t fall apart without her, but I certainly would.”

Joe nodded, “She forced me to see the team psychologist.”

“I heard,” Zac replied, looking at his quarterback.

“I was surprised, considering it doesn’t seem like she likes me that much,” Joe admitted and Zac laughed.

“Yeah whatever, she likes you more than a lot of the guys here,” he said.

“She’s not very friendly to me,” he said and Zac was amused at seeing an almost pout on Joe’s face.

“That’s how I know she likes you,” he said. “She’s always been like that, putting up a brick wall to guard what she’s feeling or thinking.”

Joe's brow furrowed as he processed Zac's words. He'd never considered that your cold demeanor towards him might be masking something else. It made him think back to your interactions over the past few weeks - the way you'd figured out his mental block on the field, how you'd given him advice about seeing the team psychologist. Maybe there was more beneath the surface than he'd realized.

"I never thought about it that way," Joe admitted. "She just always seemed so... irritated by me."

Zac chuckled. "Trust me, if she truly didn't like you, you'd know it. She's not one to hide her feelings when she really dislikes someone."

Joe nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "So you're saying I might have a chance then?"

Zac's eyebrows shot up. "Woah there, did you forget who you’re talking to?”

Joe immediately turned red because he had, in fact, forgotten. He was frozen, thinking about how he had just asked his head coach if he could date his daughter.

————————————————————

The loss to the Steelers broke you. It finally felt like everything was starting to fall apart. After the game, you were silent, staying on the field longer to think. It felt like you were shouldering everyone else’s burdens, and now you were collapsing.

“Have you seen y/n?” Joe heard Zac ask as people were leaving the locker room. “She normally stops by after the game.”

He had noticed that during the season, win or lose, you always walked out with your dad, so this was unusual.

“Do you know where y/n lives?” He asked Ja’Marr, trying to act as casually as possible. Ja’Marr looked up at him with a wide grin.

“Why do you want it?” He asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“No reason,” he replied quickly and somehow the grin got wider.

“I fucking knew it,” he said.

“Knew what?”

“You have a thing for her!” Ja’Marr exclaimed and Joe quickly looked around to make sure no one else was in earshot.

“So what?” He replied, trying to act like he wasn’t rattled.

“Here’s her address, lover boy,” Ja’Marr teased, letting Joe copy it into his phone. “Enjoy your last weeks alive before he finds out.”

Once he had finished at the facility, Joe drove over to your place, admiring the cute little cottage-style house you owned. He knocked on the door, trying to figure out his game plan.

You had just gotten out of the shower and changed into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt as you headed towards the door. Shocked was an understatement about how you felt seeing Joe at the door.

“Can I come in?”He asked, shivering from the cold. You stepped aside as he came into the warmer air.

“What are you doing here? And how do you know where I live?” You asked, watching him sit down on a barstool and turn to face you.

“I wanted to see if you were okay,” he said nonchalantly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Don’t you have my number?” You countered.

“Would you have answered?” He shot back and you stayed silent while he smiled triumphantly.

“I’m fine,” you said, crossing your arms. “Now leave.”

“Nope.” Joe said staring you down.

You sighed heavily, realizing Joe wasn't going to leave easily. "Look, I appreciate the concern, but I really just want to be alone right now."

Joe's eyes softened as he looked at you. "I get it. But I also know what it's like to shoulder everyone else's burdens. It's not healthy to keep it all bottled up."

His words hit closer to home than you wanted to admit. You felt your defenses start to crack slightly. "What do you want from me, Joe?"

"Just talk to me," he said gently. "No judgement, no expectations. Just... let me in."

You hesitated, warring with yourself. Part of you wanted to maintain the walls you'd built, to push him away like you always did. But another part, a part you'd been ignoring, craved the connection.

"I don’t know how,” you admitted. “I’m so focused on everyone else I don’t think I can understand how I’m feeling.”

“Why?” He asked softly. “Why do you feel like you have to fix everyone?”

His question caught you off guard. You had never really realized it about yourself, but it checked out. You were the friend everyone came to for advice or help fixing a problem. Historically, all your boyfriends had been guys with something you wanted to fix. And now you were spending your time studying games so closely to help your dad fix his team.

“I don’t like things I can’t control, but everything is starting to feel like it’s spiraling,” you said and your voice cracked on the last word. Joe quickly got up and had pulled you into his chest as the first tear hit your cheek.

You stiffened at first, not used to this level of intimacy with Joe. But as he held you tightly, rubbing soothing circles on your back, you felt yourself start to relax. The dam finally broke and you let out a choked sob, burying your face in his chest.

"It's okay," Joe murmured, his voice low and comforting. "Let it out."

And you did. All the stress, the worry, the frustration of the past weeks came pouring out. Joe just held you, occasionally whispering words of comfort, but mostly just being a steady presence.

"I just... I feel like if I can't fix everything, then what good am I?" You whispered.

Joe's eyes softened with understanding. "You don't have to fix everything, y/n. You're not responsible for everyone else's problems or failures.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You asked, trying to lighten the mood. “I’ve been so mean to you.”

“Your dad told me that it meant you liked me,” he said with a small grin. You blushed, burying your head back into his chest. You felt the rumble of his laughter as you burned with embarrassment.

“Why don’t I order us something to eat, and we can watch a movie or something?” he suggested, and you nodded, grateful that he had come. You heard him call a pizza place before he joined you on the couch, choosing to sit right next to you.

You felt yourself relax as Joe settled in next to you on the couch. The warmth of his body was comforting, and you found yourself leaning slightly towards him without even realizing it.

"So, what are we watching?" Joe asked, grabbing the remote.

You shrugged. "Something mindless? I don't think I can handle anything too heavy right now."

"Mindless it is," Joe agreed, scrolling through Netflix until he found a cheesy rom-com.

As the movie played on, you found yourself forgetting about the stress of the past few weeks. Joe’s arm had somehow ended up draped across the back of the couch, and you weren’t sure when, but your head was now resting on his shoulder. It was surprisingly…nice.

“I never pegged you as a rom-com guy,” you teased softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

Joe smirked, his voice light. “Don’t knock it. Sometimes you just need a happy ending.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, fighting a smile. “Is that so?”

He turned his head to meet your eyes, his expression uncharacteristically serious.

“Yeah, it is. And maybe you need one, too.”

His words hung in the air, the weight of them settling in your chest. There was something so genuine in the way he looked at you that it made your heart race.

“I don’t know if I’m cut out for happy endings,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m too busy trying to keep everyone else’s story from falling apart.”

Joe reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering just slightly. “Maybe it’s time you let someone else take care of you for a change.”

You felt your breath hitch, the vulnerability in his words sending a warmth through your chest. Before you could overthink it, before you could convince yourself otherwise, you leaned in and pressed a soft, hesitant kiss to his lips.

Joe froze for half a second before kissing you back, his hand coming up to cup your cheek gently. The kiss was slow and unhurried like he had all the time in the world to show you exactly how much he cared.

When you finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Guess your dad was right,” Joe murmured, his tone teasing but his eyes filled with something much deeper. “You do like me.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile spreading across your face. “Shut up, Burrow.”

[creepyclothdoll]

I set Angel Free

All of this is gonna sound pretty mean but let me preface this by saying that this girl, Angel, thought she was God’s gift. And I mean that in the most literal sense. Like she’d literally introduce herself by saying, 

“My name is Angel, because I’m a gift from Heaven.”

She’d say it with this smile that was so fake and sickly-sweet you could taste your teeth rotting just looking at it. All her mannerisms were stolen from disney movies, like how she’d talk in this high-pitched little girl voice that she thought made her seem so cute. Like, yeah, yeah, you’re supposed to be nice to people like that, but it was so hard to tolerate her. 

So we messed with her. It wasn’t because she was in a wheelchair, I wanna make that clear. I don’t have a problem with people in wheelchairs. Just Angel. You’d feel the same way if you knew her. Honestly everyone did. 

She literally didn’t know where babies came from. Like one time my friends were joking about having Nick Jonas’s babies and Angel was like “how would you make the baby his?” And we had to literally explain to her where babies come from and ask where she thought they came from. She said, and I quote,

“When a mommy makes a very special wish, and gives it a special kiss and sends it to God, God cuts a piece of Heaven in the shape of a baby and wraps it in the wish and sends it back to the mommy, to grow up and be loved and kept safe on the earth forever.”

This was, by far, the stupidest thing I ever heard in my entire life. So of course I responded by telling her her mommy was lying to her, most likely because she was a whore. 

This made everyone at lunch laugh really hard because her mom, Ms CJ, was the school’s frumpiest old cat lady, and she literally had those 80’s coke-bottle glasses like that guy from Trailer Park Boys and the idea of her getting sexed up for dollar bills was enough to make you piss yourself laughing. 

Angel started crying and doing that annoying pouting thing. Frankly I doubt she even knew what a whore was, just that it was bad. I think she wanted to storm off, but it’s not like she could go very far. Which I pointed out as well, to uproarious laughter. 

Okay again, I don’t have an issue with people in wheelchairs. It was just really easy to mess with her. But this was the incident that, for some reason, made everyone think of me as the Designated Angel Watchman. Like, any time Angel did anything weird and cringey, everyone would look at me like they were Jim from the Office and I was the camera. And then if I didn’t say something funny about it, they’d get all disappointed. But when I did say something funny, it became the new Angel Thing Of The Week that everyone would be saying in the halls between classes, and I’d feel like a genius. Did it go too far sometimes? Sure. But that’s not my fault. All Angel ever had to do was act like a normal person for once and it all would have stopped. 

Angel was homeschooled her whole life until seventh grade, which is probably why she was so weird. 

I wanna be clear– she wasn’t like, mentally disabled or anything like that. That would make me look pretty bad. She was just weird. She was always singing by herself– pop songs, disney princess songs, sometimes songs in japanese from anime. She was convinced she had the best voice in the class, and flaunted it all the time like she thought we were gonna be impressed. She wore these huge ugly cat sweaters with glitter and frills every single day. 

And any time we watched a movie in class, she’d laugh this awful snickering long laugh at ANY joke and then bawl her goddamn eyes out if there was even a little bit of a sad part. It was so annoying!

She refused to do anything outside her comfort zone– no scary stories, no new foods, no games she’d never played before. She turned her nose up at anything unfamiliar.

So let me be clear: Angel deserved most of what we did to her. 

But she didn’t deserve what I did that last day.

Before I met Angel, I thought Ms CJ was okay. After, though, I realized she was batshit. She only let Angel come to our school for seventh grade because she knew she’d be Angel’s homeroom teacher and that she’d be able to flit in and coddle her throughout the day. Ms CJ was Angel’s constant guardian, which should be humiliating for anyone who has shame, but Angel loved the attention. She’d beg Ms CJ to stay with her longer every time she popped in during class. And that sucked, because I couldn’t say shit about anything cringe Angel did when Ms CJ was around, so I missed a lot of really good opportunities to mess with her. 

Ms CJ always sat with her daughter at lunch, which was honestly bad parenting because there was no way Angel would ever be able to make any friends like that. Ms CJ never let Angel join the rest of us for recess. Or for field trips. Once during a group project in French class, as a joke, I invited Angel to a made-up party in the woods. Angel replied by saying,

“I can’t go if it’s in the woods, silly! My mommy doesn’t let me outside!”

She said this like it was the most normal thing in the world for her, so I asked some clarifying questions. She explained, in her girly sing-song voice, that she’s not ever allowed to be outside for more than a few seconds at a time, and only when her mommy is there to hold her hand. 

“My mommy doesn’t want me to get lost,” she said.

“It’s not like you can run away,” I joked.

“I can run,” Angel replied, pouting. “Look.” She kicked her legs slightly. I heard the clack of chains. 

That was the first time I ever noticed that Angel was shackled around her ankles. 

“I run all the time at home,” Angel bragged. “I run alllll over, over all the rooms. I wish I could run here too, but it’s too dangerous. The windows,” she added, like that would clarify it. I was baffled. So she didn’t even need the wheelchair.

“Um, why are you chained? Are you like, under house arrest or something?” I asked.

“No. My mommy just doesn’t want me to get lost. She’s the only one with the key.”

“Your mommy sounds like a psycho. You should call the cops,” I replied.

The French teacher overheard her crying and she got me sent to the principal’s office again. But I swear this time I wasn’t being smart or anything, I was genuinely freaked out for her. I told my friends, who all agreed with me that it was weird. But I guess I hadn’t been the first one to notice the chains. The others who had assumed it was because Angel was like, prone to fits or something. That made sense for Angel, but it still made me feel weird and didn’t sit right.

My mommy doesn’t want me to get lost.

I started to feel sorry for her. She was still weird and annoying, but she was weird and annoying because her mom was out of her mind and wouldn’t let her be a normal kid. How was she supposed to learn to be normal if she couldn’t even go outside, for god’s sake? 

I still messed with Angel when she did weird stuff like quote anime characters in class and bring stuffed animals to school. But if it was ever just her and me, I was nice to her and asked her stuff about her life. 

Her favorite movie was The Little Mermaid. No, she had never been to summer camp. Her favorite time of the week was church. She disliked onions and wanted to be a vegetarian except that her mom was very insistent about her getting enough protein in her diet. She loved those Warrior cat books and wanted to be a veterinarian someday. She didn’t have a dad. Ms CJ took the shackles off her ankles only once they were inside their house and all the doors and windows were closed and locked. That was also when Ms CJ took the locked metal bar off of her chair so she could get up. The bar went over her waist and prevented her from standing. She wore those big ugly cat sweaters every day so we wouldn’t see it. Her mom didn’t want people to know about her special condition, which, as far as I could tell, was all made-up. Any time I asked about her “condition,” she’d just say some stuff about being a very special heaven baby or whatever.

“Do you ever think about running away?” I asked finally. “Why don’t you just… leave?”

She looked shocked.

“Of course not!” she said. “I love my mommy. Where would I even go?” She shuddered visibly. 

The shudder pissed me off. I blew up at her and called her a whiny scaredy baby until she cried, and I got sent to the principal again. 

 She didn’t even want to be normal. That’s what pissed me off the most. 

It was springtime, and the snow was finally mostly gone. I’d been in Mr Bevends’ science class before, so I knew what to expect that day– first real nice day of spring was always a “class outside” day. We’d go out and look at moss and leaf buds and stuff and he’d talk about natural changes during the season. It was all a big excuse for us to get outside– no one liked it more than Mr Bevends himself. He was so excited to announce we were taking class outside, he didn’t even notice Angel’s face go stark white as he led the rest of the class out the doors.

“I– I can’t–” she stuttered, but I interrupted her.

“It’s the most beautiful day in months,” I said. “It’s a perfect day. You’ll love it.”

“I’m not allowed,” she whispered, embarrassed. 

“You wanna be a baby forever?” I said. “Come on. You’ve never broken a single rule in your life. Live a little.”

After a long moment, Angel nodded. She followed me out the back doors of the school, onto the sidewalk. I walked next to her for awhile. She looked scared, but also fascinated by the dripping icicles from the roof gutter above us, and the ice-blue sky above, and the rows of black trees stretching up into the air. 

“It’s cold,” she said. 

“Yeah, that happens when you’re outside for more than a few seconds.”

“I think… I like the cold.”

We caught up to the rest of the science class, and listened to Mr Bevends talk about leaves and crap. Angel oscilated between this vibrating excitement and a frightened, hunted look, like her mom was gonna show up at any second and punish her for disobeying and doing one normal thing in her life. Angel touched the trees reverently. My friends made fun of her for “fondling the foliage.” I didn’t join in this time. I had bigger things planned.

When we broke off into groups of two, I went with Angel. My friends knew I was up to something great then, so they followed us, chuckling eagerly. I grinned back at them when Angel wasn’t looking.

We were supposed to identify different types of trees in the woods behind the school. I helped push Angel’s chair up the hill– it was insanely heavy. The wheels snagged on the muddy grass, but it didn’t matter. It’s not like she actually needed the thing.

“What are you doing?” Angel asked with rising terror as I leaned over her and produced the key. 

Everyone knew Mr Bevends always had class outside the first nice day of spring. It was really easy to slip the key from Ms CJ’s lanyard when she always left it out on her desk during homeroom. It was the one with little white wings on the chain. 

“I’m setting you free,” I said. I unlocked the shackles around her feet first, then the bar around her waist. She screamed at me to stop the entire time, but I knew I was doing the right thing. Someone had to teach her to be independent. Someone had to throw her out of her comfort zone. 

And that’s what I did. I set Angel free.

Angel rose from the chair. 

And rose. And rose.

Her shoes went over her head. She kicked her legs wildly as they drifted rapidly upwards. Angel shrieked and tried to grab onto the top of the chair– the handles, even trying to clutch a handful of my hair– desperate to stay anchored to the ground. But it was too late. She was already six feet in the air. 

Then twelve. 

Then thirty.

I couldn’t do anything other than watch on in shock as Angel shot up into the sky like a helium balloon. She twisted and clawed at the open air. 

It happened in seconds. One second, we were watching Angel make frantic grabbing motions at the ground, howling with terror, and the next second all we could see of her was the glint of the sunlight on her glittery pink cat sweater as she disappeared up into the vast emptiness above.

When Mr Bevends came to see what was the matter, all any of us could do was to point up. But by then, she was just a pinprick against the deep, endless blue sky. 

Then there was nothing.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved in our archive

A great article and a fairly quick read.

By Sadhbh O'Sullivan

Nathalie MacDermott, a paediatric infectious diseases doctor, she says: 'If we had another pandemic tomorrow, I think we would make the same mistakes again'

Nathalie MacDermott is a paediatric infectious diseases doctor and clinical lecturer at King’s College London. While working on a Covid ward at Great Ormond Street in May 2020, she contracted Covid, leading to a spinal injury that impairs her ability to work until this day. She is part of Long Covid Doctors for Action, an advocacy group that is filing a class action lawsuit with the NHS for not adequately protecting healthcare workers from the risks of infection.

Here, she explains to i why she’s part of the movement to sue the NHS.

I do a mixture of research and clinical work, and in March 2020 I went to work at Great Ormond Street during the Covid pandemic. I was initially looking after children with infectious diseases and immunological conditions, and got Covid for the first time at the end of March, likely through a shared office.

At the time, we weren’t permitted to wear surgical face masks or PPE in offices, just on the wards, I think due to concern over the availability of PPE – it was prioritised for use on wards. But because we couldn’t socially distance in offices, people were understandably concerned. By the time I recovered and returned to work, they’d introduced a mask policy in offices due to pressure from the staff.

After I recovered, I went back to work on the Covid ward for children with multisystem inflammatory syndrome, a condition associated with acute Covid. It was not an intensive care ward where staff were allowed to wear full PPE, but a standard ward where the level of PPE was lower.

I was very concerned about the level of PPE that we were provided with at the time, and raised my concerns repeatedly over five weeks, trying to get to the people who would actually listen. But they just kept saying they were following the guidance from the NHS, and we didn’t really know where that guidance was coming from at that time. We were just given surgical face masks, small aprons to cover the torso, and a pair of gloves.

The reason given was that they were prioritising PPE for people exposed to what they consider aerosol generating procedures [medical procedures that lead to aerosols or air being released from a person’s respiratory tract] like being on a ventilator. The crazy thing is that the concept of aerosol generating procedures is a fairly nebulous one: at the time they were saying resuscitation (where you’re pushing on someone’s chest) wasn’t AGP, but someone on a filtered, closed circuit ventilator was. We now have fairly solid data that shows coughing is probably the biggest generator of aerosols, above and beyond other procedures.

I think there was a denial at the time [from the NHS as a whole, not the individual NHS trusts] that Covid was airborne. Plus, there wasn’t adequate ventilation on the ward because it was a repurposed building that didn’t have the air filtered at appropriate intervals; we couldn’t open the windows because there was dust everywhere from building works going on, and it was cold.

I worked at the forefront of the Ebola epidemic in Liberia and my PhD investigated the community spread of Ebola in Sierra Leone. It meant I was even more aware that there were risks of after effects with a viral infection. We know that just because you survive something like Ebola or glandular fever it doesn’t mean you won’t have ongoing symptoms for a long time afterward. I think it meant I was more willing to fight for better PPE and was very familiar with infection prevention, control procedures and personal protective equipment. Despite that, people still didn’t want to listen to what I had to say.

It was incredibly frustrating, not so much for myself but because I was very concerned about my colleagues. Around the time I was on that ward in 2020 we’d just lost one of the most senior nurses in my department to Covid. And even that wasn’t enough to convince people that we should have a better grade of PPE.

I continued to challenge the PPE guidance until I got Covid again in May 2020. After my initial acute Covid symptoms settled, I noticed I was still getting a lot of nerve pain in my feet, which then developed into limiting my ability to walk. It’s thought that Covid somehow damaged my spinal cord, but it’s not entirely clear how or what exactly happened.

I now struggle to lift my legs off the ground, so I can only walk very short distances on my own, and a bit longer on crutches. I also suffer from fatigue and get tired easily, I have bladder and bowel impairment, I have issues with dry eyes and mouth. Are they Covid related? Who knows, but that’s when they started for me. Either way, these symptoms haven’t changed in the last three and a half years.

The impact has limited me. I’m able to work nowadays, when many of my colleagues aren’t, but I largely work from home and do research. A full-time clinical job is physically too demanding for me. I did have a mobility scooter to help me get around wards, but even that was quite exhausting. Even going up a flight of stairs some days is a real challenge.

My passion has always been doing disaster and epidemic response with a non-governmental organisation, and obviously it’s quite difficult to send a doctor who’s disabled out to a war zone or epidemic situation. This has cost me my career in some respects, as I won’t be able to be the paediatric infectious diseases consultant I was hoping to be.

The whole purpose of our class action lawsuit is to prevent this situation happening again and we encourage any healthcare worker who has been affected to join the action.

We now understand that the NHS guidance on PPE had been issued by the Infection Prevention and Control cell that was part of the NHS pandemic strategy. Unfortunately, the IPC cell remains somewhat shrouded in mystery because its membership and minutes have never been made public. We have no idea about the decision making.

Despite the fact we now know that there is clearly aerosol spread of Covid, the PPE guidance still hasn’t changed. They’re recommending that full PPE should only be worn for aerosol generating procedures, even now when there are no more concerns about shortages.

There’s a study that was conducted at Cambridge University Hospitals that showed once they introduced full PPE (high grade masks) on their Covid wards, they went from having a relatively high incidence of infection in healthcare workers to having almost no infection. There’s good evidence now to suggest it certainly would have protected us on the ward.

But if we had another pandemic tomorrow, I think we would make the same mistakes again.

We’re bringing this action because we want doctors and all healthcare workers to feel represented. We want the NHS to recognise that it had a duty of care and still does have a duty of care to its staff, and that means providing the absolute best it can for its staff, not a halfway measure.

We want long Covid to be recognised as an industrial disease by the industrial injuries advisory council, meaning it’s eligible for an industrial payout through a government scheme. As yet it’s not being recognised as it’s very difficult to define what long Covid actually is.

For me, this isn’t about money – it’s about holding people accountable and ensuring we don’t make the same mistakes again in the future. For some of my colleagues, though, who have lost their livelihoods and their jobs and have been unable to work for many years, and are unemployed and applying for universal credit, and using food banks, then I think a pay out is justified and of significant benefit to them because of the struggles they have at the moment financially.

[bi-bi-buckleys]

Can I just throw this out there after seeing that post and the reply to it:

We don’t know WHY Oliver never posted a picture of Lou. I think the immediate thought was “oh they must not get along” or “lol clearly Oliver hates Lou” and that just stuck but we genuinely don’t know?? Maybe they aren’t close (Lou pretty much said as much in that one interview where he said he didn’t really know Oliver that well), but why does that automatically mean hate? Neither of them have ever said anything negative about the other in interviews. It could just be that they weren’t close.

One could just as easily theorize that Oliver didn’t post photos of Lou out of worry that it could invite more negative comments. Oliver posts a photo of Ryan, and people comment weird shippy stuff, which is obnoxious I’m sure but it’s not hateful. If he posted a photo of Lou, I can imagine the results would be some people being happy to see them, and certain others being awful and gross and upping the hate. It wouldn’t be Oliver’s fault, but I personally would feel like I just made things worse.

Maybe Lou didn’t want his picture taken on set because of the death threats and hate. He doesn’t get those when he posts about SWAT, but god forbid if there was a pic by Oliver, that side of the fandom would froth at the mouth. Maybe he asked for Oliver to not post any and Oliver agreed not to. Maybe it’s the same thing for why no one stood up the hateful comments, the idea of “don’t give them attention, it’ll only make things worse.” Imagine if Oliver had said something with the hopes of making it stop, do any of us really see that as happening? He probably would have been harassed just as much, and Lou would have gotten more. Like the thought is nice, and the side of the fandom that doesn’t send hate would have been supportive, but the other side would have absolutely gone on the attack, directed at both of them.

Point is, we Just. Don’t. Know. We have so little real insight that any idea that gets tossed out could be legit. We could say they hatred each other, we could say they were indifferent to each other, we could say they didn’t want to spur on the more negative side of the fandom, hell we can say they didn’t interact on social media or post about each other because they’re dating and want to keep it a secret! All of it could be feasible because we have so little to go on. It’s just telling that a certain subsection of the fandom has decided it must be hate.

[whiteobsidian]

from cyra, to you

My struggle with LOA and how I overcame it.

During the summer (in 2020), around July I read a community post about the law of assumption, then I really did my research and had a better understanding of the law of assumption. It was quite fun and painful, I would read the same posts just to get reassurance that what I was doing was “correct”. Growing up with only listening to instructions made it a bit difficult to transition from the law of attraction to assumption. Though the law of attraction didn’t do  me any good.

When I got into the law of attraction in (last) december it was like a miracle had happened and I could change anything I “disliked” all by listening to some music online. I discovered those videos by accident, and I don’t regret it but I do regret abusing it and myself.  During quarantine + online school I was probably at my lowest point in life, I was depressed and scared and my anxiety had turned severe, especially as a black person during this period. I had also gained weight and my acne was worse than ever, In conclusion : I was insecure. Using subliminals was my escape from that, being so desperate to fit into today's beauty standards , I wasn’t doing myself any justice, I would get angry at the 3d for not showing what I wanted to see. I drank 2 liters of water a day, why wasn’t I getting results? I listened at low volume, why wasn’t I getting results? This mindset did change…. well kinda.

As I wrote earlier, I read a community tab from one of my favorite submarkes talking about how they used the law of assumption to manifest. I was obviously confused, I didn’t even know there were different laws/ ways to manifest. This got me into watching Hyler and Sammy Ingrams videos for a whole day straight. I was fascinated to say the least, and I was even more excited learning that visualization can also help you manifest, since I am a big day dreamer. A few weeks later, I had an instagram account and followed lots of coaches and accounts. I was doing self concept challenges and abundance challenges. I had manifested a lot of new things (clothes, macbook, food) but I wanted something more, something I saw as “BIG”. You might've already guessed : appearance changes.

I didn’t want to change for me, I wanted to change so I would be treated differently, that I would have a better life with prettiness. I had a ugly mindset and this ugly mindset told me I was ugly, I never really thought I was an ugly person before and I'm questioning why I ever thought I was in the first place, I had completely changed and it scared me, I was desperate. I would get mad when I didn't see what i wanted, this led me to repeating the old story over and over again. It took me longer than I expected to get my appearance changed because I had doubts. The 3d is a reflection, a movie of your thoughts. All I needed to do was to change my mindset on how I saw myself. 

Self Concept

Self concept changed my whole view on manifesting and honestly myself.  Your self concept is how you see yourself, how others treat you, how you see the world etc etc, for example if you believe that men or women treat you badly then it's going to reflect your reality. I had a lot of old  thoughts and assumptions that would mold into the 3d. Remember that no one is going to manifest for you, you have to do this yourself, know you are powerful, beautiful, and smart. Nobody can change these beliefs you have set in your mind except you. You need to work on yourself. 

Techniques and Methods

i’m going to put this out now, you DON'T need to do any methods or techniques to get “faster results” do whatever makes you feel comfortable, if you're new to the law of assumption feel free to try any techniques you're interested in, just don’t be pressured to. It's not mandatory to do all this extra stuff, unless you really want to. 

Timing

I know that all of us want our results to come quick, instant even and it is possible, but only unless you truly believe that. Know that your affirming is going to work and that your results are already there, if you are affirming for quick instant results, know that you will get quick and instant results. You don't necessarily have to believe in your affirmation, you just need to believe that what your doing is going to work. If you've been affirming and listening to subliminals for months and you're still “not” getting results it's not the 3d, it's you. 

Why?

You can manifest anything you want, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise but question yourself, why? Especially if it's an appearance change, I hope you're manifesting an appearance change because you're doing it for YOU. Not for validation, or to actually “feel” pretty. You are a powerful being, don't let others determine your self worth or determine who you are. 

Apply

Manifesting is simple, especially in the law of assumption, all you need to do is affirm, persist, and know.

Affirm for what you want 

Persist in that thought over and over

Know that your thought will materialize into the 3d no matter what

STOP over consuming info online, I don’t care if a loa creator posted, I bet you already know what it's about by the title. Stop going on instagram and tumblr just to read things you already know, if you're really that impulsive then delete the apps! Don’t waste all your time for reassurance to see what you're doing is right. There is no right or wrong, just manifest.

Have fun!

Have fun when manifesting, don’t make it seem like it is a chore or it's that pile of homework that's sitting around in your room. Think about it, you can manifest your dream life by just thinking, I want you all to have fun when manifesting, enjoy it! Know that you have everything you want all just by assuming!

Remember, you’re one of a kind <3

with all my love, 

xoxo cyra, 111 222

ps. I did manifest an appearance change (and everything else I wanted), all by working on myself! :)

[heygirltimeformorning]

wrote some tooth-rotting Buddie fluff chatfic for @playinginthunderstorms & @theflatman last night and I thought yall might enjoy!

this is VERY rough chatfic, and I cleaned it up a bit, but it’s chatfic, so please don’t be harsh with me!! & enjoy.

*

Eddie moves Chris back to LA very unexpectedly three days before Christmas, which causes chaos for Buck, because obviously he had gifts for Eddie and Chris, but he’d expected to go to El Paso to Eddie’s rental house a couple days after Christmas to see the Diaz boys. Christmas itself he planned to spend with Maddie and Chimney, and he doesn’t really bother decorating his loft beyond the tree and a wreath on the front door. Maybe he’s not in the Christmas spirit this year. Maybe he doesn’t particularly want to examine why. Maybe it has to do with Eddie and Chris.

So Buck is at home, December 22, glaring at his pitiful little tree and the neatly wrapped packages, and his cell phone buzzes.

second favorite Diaz: any chance your available for an airport pickup in 3 hours and 45 mins?

And Eddie’s used the wrong form of “you’re,” and LAX three days before Christmas is genuinely one of the innermost circles of hell, but —

are you and Chris coming back to LA

And Eddie confirms, yes, he and Chris are enroute, and Buck has two thoughts: one, he’s going to have to leave soon for LAX, traffic is that bad and two, Chris and Eddie will be coming home to a house that isn’t decorated for Christmas, and that will not do.

If the sudden return of his usually indomitable Christmas spirit is tied to Eddie and Chris and their return to LA, well, Buck has decorating to do. He doesn’t have time to sit and think about his feelings. And that’s how Buck Buckley does things: all in. He’s never half-assed anything in his entire life, so he loads up every Christmas decoration he can find, takes it over to Eddie’s still-uninhabited house, and gets to work.

Buck never thought he’d be grateful for flight delays, but through the magic of Christmas and the sudden return of Buck’s Christmas spirit, Eddie and Chris’ flight is delayed long enough that Buck can actually do a decent job decorating for Christmas, including the Christmas-themed sheets he had given Eddie and Chris one year, complete with matching Christmas pajamas. He sets a plate of cookies on the counter right as his phone alarms, reminding him it’s time to head to LAX, so he does, going to get his boys. He doesn’t think about anything other than the fact that he managed to pull off kind of a Christmas miracle. He doesn’t think about the way he’d wanted to beg Eddie not to go, the way he’d wanted to beg Eddie to come back — come home every day since he left. He doesn’t think about any of that. It’s Christmas, and his boys are going to be back in LA.

But the truth is, ever since he’d found out that Eddie intended to move to El Paso, there’s been a pit in his stomach. He’d chalked it up to his own personal abandonment issues, had told himself he didn’t like change. He could admit he’d miss Eddie — he already missed Chris, and it’s normal to be sad your best friend is moving away. Even when it was for a good reason. Normal to be sad, yes. But Buck didn’t really half-ass things, and while he thinks he’s disguised it well, the truth is he’s devastated that, once again, he wasn’t enough for anyone to fight for. And he knows. He knows that Eddie will pick Chris every time — that’s how Buck wants it. Chris is (rightfully) Eddie’s priority. But it had hurt that Buck wasn’t even on the list.

LAX is a zoo. Usually, Buck would park and go in to the airport to get his boys — he has no idea if this is a permanent move, if they’re just visiting, what kind of luggage they’ll have, and he doesn’t want to put pressure on Chris to be anything other than what he was, and he’s not sure he can keep himself from crying when he sees them in the airport. Buck cries at those soldier reunion videos. He doesn’t trust himself with his very own reunion video. So he waits in the jeep, texts Eddie that he’s here, and then he watches the sliding glass doors.

Buck’s heart jumps into his throat when he sees Eddie with a luggage cart, piled high with — with suitcases. With multiple suitcases, because that means, at the very least, an extended stay, and maybe even —

He’s out of the car before he can think it through, before he can think about trotting his heart out again. This is Eddie and Chris— there is no trotting his heart out again. They already own it — all of it.

They share a reunion-video worthy hug, all three of them, and Buck takes a step back, taking them both in. He’s scared to ask, because having Eddie and Chris back — but he has to know.

“Is this…?” he asks, and Chris rolls his eyes.

“El Paso is boring,” he says in that dry, measured way of his. “I miss actual fro-yo places, and Trader Joe’s.”

And Buck looks at Eddie who has this look on his face, a kind of helpless, hapless joy, like, can you believe this? And then Chris rolls his eyes.

“Dad made things more complicated than they needed to be,” Chris says, “so now we have a whole house we have to figure out how to break the rental agreement on.”

“I’ve been researching it,” Buck says, can’t help it. It isn’t a lie - not even close. Just in case. Just in case all his dreams came true.

And Buck knows that they can’t exactly set the precedent that the second Chris gets back from his self-imposed exile (like father like son) he gets whatever he wants, but when they get the bags loaded in the car, and when Chris and Eddie are in Buck’s jeep, and when Buck’s heart is Shirley Temple-ing up and down the steps of his brain, and Chris says “can we stop for fro-yo,” Buck says yes without hesitation, even though the place Chris wants to go is going to be packed, because they do a fro-yo and caroling event that’s tonight. Buck’s boys are back. They’re back, and Buck will take Chris for fro-yo every single night for the rest of his life if it means he gets to have Eddie and Chris back in his life.

All told, it’s late— or, well, early, depending on how you look at it— when they get to the Diaz house, and Buck can’t help but look over at Eddie when they pull up, the Christmas tree lights on and glowing through the window.

“Have you been living here?” Eddie asks, and there’s something Buck can’t quite identify in his voice.

And Buck realizes that it’s actually probably weird that he’s decorated the Diaz house for Christmas, especially considering that no one is officially living here. And has Buck thought about it? Yes. When they’d set things up with Ravi to rent it out, Buck had thought — maybe. But the truth was, it would be too … painful. Buck has lived with ghosts before. He spent his whole childhood with Daniel’s ghost (even if he hadn’t known that’s what it was at the time ) and he couldn’t move into the Diaz house without the Diazes. It would be like living in a mausoleum.

“Uh,” he says in response to Eddie’s question. Chris had finished his fro-yo and passed out, and was currently snoring quietly, head leaned against the window of the Jeep. “N-no. Nobody’s living here, I just thought… it might be nice to come home to something… homey.”

“You decorated?” Eddie asks. “Tonight? You decorated the house tonight before you picked us up?”

Buck turns a little pink, glancing down at his hands. “Guess your flight getting delayed had a silver lining,” he says, and then he looks up at Eddie.

Eddie, who’s looking at Buck with look on his face that’s half-heartbroken, half-something else. Something Buck can almost but not quite identify. “I missed you too, Buck,” he says finally, reaching out to give Buck’s shoulder a squeeze, his thumb fitting into that place just under his collarbone.

Buck feels the weight of it, and the air is suddenly charged between them. Buck’s looking at Eddie. Eddie’s looking at Buck. Chris is asleep in the backseat.

Eddie is home. Buck feels it like a rush, something that sweeps in and washes through him. Eddie is back where he belongs, and Buck’s world rights itself on its axis.

They get the bags inside, and Chris, and get Chris in his bed and then Eddie comes down the hall, raising his eyebrows in surprise when Buck presents him with their brand of beer.

“I had some groceries delivered while I was decorating,” he admits, a little bashful. “Not much, I just didn’t want you to come home to an empty fridge.”

Eddie cracks his beer open and takes a long drink. It’s going on three in the morning, and he’s tired, yes, but he nods to the couch, and Buck meets him there, settling down next to him, their thighs pressed together, their shoulders touching, both of them watching the gentle glow of the Christmas tree. “So,” Eddie says, “guess I should explain.”

And Buck wants to say that it’s okay, that he doesn’t need an explanation. That having them home is all he needs, that as long as they’re back and safe and here, then Buck is happy. And all of that is true, but Buck also wants to know — he wants to understand. What happened — what changed. “Well,” Buck says carefully, and Eddie looks up from his beer. “I am a little curious, yeah.”

So Eddie explains, talks about how Chris had taken one look at the rental house in El Paso and thrown the holiest of fits. How Chris had said some things that made a lot of sense, actually (Eddie admits this with a slightly chagrined look) and had demanded to know why Eddie was moving back to El Paso when he’d made it pretty fucking obvious (Chris’ exact words, apparently, which Eddie looks a little pained and a little proud and a little amused over) that El Paso didn’t make him happy. Eddie explains that Chris had just been waiting for Eddie to ask him to come home, and Eddie hadn’t wanted to uproot Chris (again) from his clubs, and they’d initially decided to wait until the new year to move back. But then, Eddie says, they’d been sitting in the living room of the rental house, and Chris had asked about Buck, and then Eddie stops talking.

Buck and Eddie never really have awkward silences. Even when Buck had shown up at Eddie’s house to find Eddie in his underwear, dancing to “Old Time Rock n Roll,” it hadn’t been awkward.

But this… this is a little bit awkward. Eddie is picking at the label on his beer bottle.

“Chris asked about me?” Buck asks, and Eddie nods. It feels like a half-truth, like Eddie’s holding something back, and Buck frowns at the Christmas tree, at the gifts he’d picked out for Chris and Eddie, had cried while he wrapped them, because he missed them, even if he wouldn’t admit it to anyone but himself.

“He did,” Eddie says, carefully, guarded. Eddie’s eyes are on the tree, and Buck looks over at Eddie, and the thing that Buck couldn’t stand to think about, the thing he’d realized too late was that he loves Eddie, that the second he’d realized Eddie planned to go to El Paso, a little piece of Buck’s heart had broken off, and then another and then another until he was in LA, bleeding out, all the pieces of his heart in El Paso.

Eddie shifts, suddenly, almost abruptly, so he’s turned to face Buck, and Buck turns to face Eddie, like he can’t help but echo his movements. “Chris said something,” he says, carefully. “And. I think… I think he might be right.”

“He’s the smartest person I know,” Buck points out, but the joke is a little stiff, doesn’t quite fit this conversation. There’s a pause. And then Buck asks, “what did he say?”

Eddie takes a deep breath, like he’s about to say something he can’t take back. Like things were about to change. “He asked,” Eddie says carefully, “if I had told you I was in love with you.”

Buck’s not sure he’s breathing. He’s not sure Eddie’s breathing.

“If I had considered,” Eddie says, “that leaving you in LA was cruel.” He folds his hands in his lap.

Buck can’t make his mouth work. His throat sticks, clicks around the words. “Eddie—“ he manages, finally, because he’d never thought cruel. “He’s your baby, Eds, I — I never —“

Because Buck had thought all kinds of things when Eddie had left for El Paso — none of them had been that Eddie was cruel. Eddie wasn’t cruel. Eddie was kind and funny and he felt things deeply and he knew the best pancake recipe, and he was Buck’s steady — when Buck didn’t know what to do, there was always Eddie, just waiting. Buck’s loved him for a long time, even if he hadn’t realized it until he’d been confronted with Eddie leaving, with losing both of his boys.

“You aren’t cruel, Eddie,” Buck says finally, and Eddie huffs out a little laugh.

“Well,” Eddie says, eyes on the Christmas tree, but then they flicker back to Buck. “He wasn’t — wrong. About. About me being in love with you.”

It’s quiet, the admission, something soft and gentle and a little painful, a little vulnerable, and Buck isn’t sure what to do with that.

“You know,” Eddie says after a long moment. “There’s one thing missing.”

And Buck frowns, because what could be missing? He’d tried to think of everything. He’d decorated for Christmas in a few hours and then he’d driven to LAX, and something was missing? What could it possibly —

But then Buck’s train of thought ends abruptly, smashing into the side of a cliff. No survivors, because Eddie says there’s only one thing missing and then he closes the distance between them and kisses Buck.

Buck doesn’t kiss Eddie back. He’s too stunned to speak or kiss back or do anything, because this is the second time someone has kissed Buck and helped something click into place. And what had clicked into place wasn’t that he loves Eddie — he knew that already — but that he gets to have this, if he wants it, precious and perfect. That Eddie had left, yes, but he’d come back. That he’d seen the house decorated for Christmas and understood it as Buck’s abundance of joy — as an expression of love — instead of something silly and stupid.

To be loved, Buck knows, is to be known, and Eddie knows him, knows all of him, and isn’t flinching.

Eddie pulls back after the one sided kiss and looks a little panicked, and then the gears in Buck’s brain start to turn again and he shakes his head, reaching for Eddie as he starts to pull back, pulling him back into a kiss, and this one, Buck is an active participant in.

“I love you,” Buck says, when the kiss breaks, their foreheads pressed together, panting into each other’s mouths. “I love you, I love you. Thank you.” He swallows, heavily. “Thank you for coming home,” he whispers. “I love you.”

“Merry Christmas,” Eddie says with a little smile. “I love you, too.”

[magical-reid]

Ricochet (Part 3)

Pairing: Bucky x Fem! Reader

Slow Burn/ Enemies to Lovers

Word Count: 1.2K

Part 1 / Part 2

One Month Later

Reader’s POV

I didn’t know when it happened, but things between Bucky and me had settled into something that almost resembled friendship—or at least tolerance. He still had his grumpy moments, but now, when he snapped, it felt less like outright disdain and more like… banter.

It was confusing, infuriating, and worst of all, kind of addictive.

The others had noticed too. Sam wouldn’t stop teasing us about the “will-they-won’t-they energy,” as he so eloquently put it, and even Clint had started placing bets on when one of us would finally crack.

I told myself it didn’t matter. We were colleagues, teammates. That was it.

But then there were moments—quiet, fleeting moments—where his guard dropped, and I saw the man beneath the scowl. The man who offered me ice packs without being asked, who always positioned himself between me and danger, who sometimes looked at me like I was the only person in the room.

I hated how much I liked it.

The Catalyst

It all came to a head on a rainy night in Vienna.

The mission was supposed to be simple: gather intel on a Hydra sleeper cell and get out. No combat, no explosions, no drama. But if there was one thing I’d learned as an Avenger, it was that things never went according to plan.

Bucky and I were undercover, posing as a couple to avoid suspicion. I still didn’t know why they’d paired us—maybe Fury had a cruel sense of humor—but here we were, sitting across from each other in a dimly lit café, pretending to be madly in love.

“Stop glaring,” I muttered, sipping my coffee.

“I’m not glaring,” he shot back, his voice low but sharp.

“You look like you’re planning my murder,” I said with a pointed glance. “Which, in case you forgot, doesn’t really sell the whole ‘happy couple’ thing.”

He grumbled something under his breath but leaned back in his chair, forcing a more neutral expression. It didn’t help much—he still looked like a bodyguard about to snap someone’s neck.

“Better?” he asked.

“Marginally,” I said, hiding a smirk.

We sat in silence for a while, scanning the café for anything suspicious. The rain outside blurred the windows, creating a cocoon of muted sound. It should have been calming, but the tension between us was electric, buzzing just beneath the surface.

“Why do you do it?” he asked suddenly, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it.

I blinked, caught off guard. “Do what?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely to the café, the mission, the life we’d chosen. “Why do you keep fighting?”

I hesitated, searching for the right words. “Because if I don’t, who will? Hydra took so much from me. I can’t get it back, but I can stop them from doing it to someone else.”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, the walls around him seemed to crack.

“I get that,” he said quietly.

Something shifted between us then, an unspoken understanding that settled into the space like a fragile thread.

But before I could say anything, my earpiece crackled to life.

“Guys, we’ve got company,” Sam’s voice said urgently. “Two cars pulling up outside. Looks like Hydra.”

Bucky’s POV

The moment Sam’s warning came through, Y/N and I were on our feet, moving in perfect sync.

“Back exit,” I murmured, grabbing her arm and steering her toward the kitchen.

We slipped through the narrow corridor, past confused waitstaff, and out into the rainy alley behind the café. The sound of footsteps and voices echoed behind us—Hydra wasn’t far.

“This way,” she said, darting down a side street.

I followed without question, my metal arm flexing as I prepared for a fight. We didn’t get far before a black SUV screeched to a halt in front of us, cutting off our escape.

“Damn it,” she muttered, drawing her weapon.

I stepped in front of her, raising my arm as a shield. The Hydra agents spilled out of the SUV, guns drawn, their faces grim.

“Stay behind me,” I said.

“No chance,” she shot back, moving to my side.

I didn’t have time to argue. The first shot rang out, and chaos erupted.

Reader’s POV

Fighting in the rain was a special kind of hell. The ground was slick, my hair was plastered to my face, and my movements felt sluggish, but I couldn’t afford to slow down.

Bucky was a blur of metal and muscle beside me, his strikes brutal and precise. For every agent I took down, he took down two more. It should have been intimidating, but instead, it was… reassuring.

We worked in perfect tandem, covering each other’s blind spots, moving as one.

But then I saw it—the Hydra agent raising his weapon, aiming straight for Bucky’s unprotected back.

“Bucky!” I shouted, lunging forward without thinking.

The shot rang out, loud and sharp, and pain exploded in my side.

Bucky’s POV

I heard her scream before I saw her fall.

My vision went red as I took down the last Hydra agent, my movements mechanical, efficient, deadly. When the alley finally fell silent, I turned and saw her lying on the ground, clutching her side.

“Y/N!” I dropped to my knees beside her, panic clawing at my chest.

“I’m fine,” she said through gritted teeth, though her pale face told a different story.

“You’re not fine,” I snapped, pressing my hand over the wound to slow the bleeding.

She winced but didn’t push me away. “Did we get them?”

“Yeah,” I said, my voice tight. “We got them.”

Her lips curved into a faint, pained smile. “Good.”

I didn’t know what possessed me, but in that moment, I couldn’t hold back.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” I said, my voice low and rough.

“Do what?” she asked, her brow furrowing.

“Take a bullet for me,” I growled. “I don’t need saving.”

She blinked, her expression softening despite the pain. “Too bad,” she murmured. “I save people. Even grumpy ones.”

Reader’s POV

His hand was warm against mine, his blue eyes fierce and filled with something I couldn’t quite name.

“You’re an idiot,” he muttered, but there was no bite to his words.

“So are you,” I shot back weakly.

For a moment, we just stared at each other, the rain falling around us, the rest of the world fading into the background.

And then, to my utter shock, he leaned down and pressed his forehead against mine.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” he whispered.

I wanted to say something, anything, but the darkness was already creeping in at the edges of my vision.

Bucky’s POV

I carried her back to the jet, my heart pounding with every step. She was still breathing, still fighting, but the sight of her blood soaking through my shirt made me want to tear the world apart.

By the time we got her to the Tower’s med bay, she was stable, but the image of her collapsing in that alley was burned into my mind.

I stayed by her side that night, watching her sleep, my chest heavy with an emotion I couldn’t name.

All I knew was that I couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not ever.

Part 4

[harrywavycurly]

Worth the Fight Part 2: City of Love

Masterlist: Here

CW: Mentions of pregnancy, language, bit of light arguing, brief details of the hook up in the bathroom, miscommunication and a touch of panic attack symptoms mentioned.

Tag List: @kookjipao @msolbesg @lomlolivia @namoreno @outofthisworl-d @mema10 @watarmelon212 @natykn @sassamanda77 @st-ev-ie @ghayda0 @hannah9921 @indierockgirrl @chaoticthoughts2022

A/N: I know it’s not Thursday but I just wanted to get this up because this week is a busy one for me! Hope yall enjoy it!!✨

Summary: Harry gets the confirmation he needs but wasn’t really expecting while you try to be as nice as possible to him, oh and Harry meets your cat! So enjoy getting a little look at the way your personalities work/clash together✨

“So uh-you’re actually pregnant.” Harry says with a heavy sigh as he watches you dig around in your purse for your car keys. You pause your search so you can look up at him just in time to see him run a hand over his face. “I just really thought maybe your tests were wrong? Like maybe you got a bad batch or something and-”

“A bad batch? Harry I took four different kinds of tests.”

“Well yeah but still I just don’t know how this happened?”

“Did your parents not have the talk with you about how babies are made? Surely you know how this happened.” Harry ignores your snippy remark as you resume your search for your keys as he presses the down button for the elevator.

The two of you just got done visiting with your doctor who confirmed you are in fact pregnant and suggested a well known obstetrician and gynecologist, Dr. Andrews that could take over and do the paternity test once you call and set up an initial appointment with his office and see exactly how far along you are. You weren’t shocked by the news, but Harry on the other hand sat there with his mouth hung open as if he didn’t expect it at all and you aren’t sure why considering you told him how many tests you took and how they all said pregnant in different ways. You know he had to be reminded of how the two of you met, seeing as he meets so many people and all but you just assumed that once he had his moment of clarity and remembered meeting you that the memory of the rest of the evening would also begin to not be as fuzzy for him but he’s proving that theory very wrong with every confused glance and silly question he tosses your way.

“I thought we were careful?” He questions once the elevator doors open up allowing the two of you to step inside, you let out a chuckle as he moves to stand next to you crossing his arms over his chest while he shoots you a glare. “Are you giggling? What’s so funny about this?” You just shake your head as you finally feel your keys on the bottom of your purse.

“Oh you-you’re being serious?” You ask as you look over at him with a raised brow making him nod his head in response. “I wasn’t aware that the pull out method was really even considered a form of being careful?” Harry’s eyes go wide as his arms fall to his sides and that’s how you figure out he really is struggling to put the pieces together of what exactly happened in that bathroom so you decide to give him just one more detail to help him understand how the two of you really ended up in this situation.

“And by the way in order for that method to work you actually have to pull out.” You add casually as you reach over and press the button for the lobby while Harry’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink as he looks down at the floor in an attempt to hide his embarrassment.

“So are you going to want to be at all the appointments?” You ask a few minutes later as the two of you enter the lobby of the medical building your doctor’s office is in. Harry looks around and brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck while you adjust the strap of your purse on your shoulder as you wait for him to answer.

“I don’t know? I just-this is a lot.” He finally replies a few moments later making you purse your lips and slowly nod your head before you turn and head for the front entrance of the building. Harry doesn’t know what to do but he knows the two of you have things to discuss so he just quickly rushes to catch up to you and when he finds you heading for a small beat up looking car that’s parked in a very obvious no parking zone his eyebrows pinch together while his hand reaches out to grab your elbow causing you to stop walking and look at him over your shoulder.

“Look I’ll tell you how my next appointment goes and when they can do the paternity test-”

“Is this your car?” Harry asks interrupting your little rant, you watch his eyes go from your face to the car directly behind you.

“Yes. She’s very reliable even though she looks a bit rough.” You say in your car’s defense as you take a step away from him making his hand fall from its hold on your elbow as he stares at you in almost disbelief as you take your car key and unlock the passenger side door and toss your purse inside before closing it so you can turn and face Harry with your arms loosely crossed over your chest.

“This can’t be safe for you to be driving around in.” You roll your eyes at his statement as he takes a step to the side so he can give your car a proper once over and when he sees a dent on the front bumper he raises an eyebrow while pointing at it. “You run into things a lot?” He asks as he looks over at you from where he’s now stood near the front of your car.

“Leave Melanie alone okay she’s nice and gets me where I need to go.” You snap at him as you turn and place a hand on top of your car so you can give it a little pat. “I’ve had her since I was seventeen so yeah she’s got a few bumps-”

“Melanie? You named your car? Have you really had this thing since you were seventeen?”

“Yes Melanie just fits her and yeah Harry I’ve had this thing since I was seventeen because most people keep their cars for a while since we can’t all have a driver to take us places or have a fancy collection of cars we don’t use.” Harry doesn’t say anything in response so after a few moments of silence you take that as a sign the conversation is over so you just turn to round the front of the car and get into the driver’s seat.

“You’re in a no parking zone you know that right?” Harry says breaking the silence just as you open your door, you look at the sign that’s posted on the sidewalk right above where you’re parked and just shrug making Harry let out a huff as he rolls his eyes.

“I was in a hurry.”

“You mean you were running late?”

“No I mean I was in a hurry.”

“Are you late to a lot of things? Is that something I should get used to?”

“I don’t know Harry do you want to get used to me?”

“What? That’s not-not what I meant I just want to know if you’re late a lot?”

“I wasn’t late today was I?”

“No but clearly you were worried about it since you were rushing enough to just park in a no parking zone-what if your car would’ve gotten towed? What would you have done?” While he’s speaking you take the time to look him over and that’s when you notice it, his hands are clenching and unclenching fists by his sides and his cheeks are slightly flushed and his eyes are a bit wide, he looks like he’s on the verge of a panic attack of some sort and him asking you these pointless questions is his attempt at holding it off.

You ignore his eyes that dart to various parts of your face and upper half of your body as if his mind can’t decide where it wants to focus as you close the driver’s side door with a bit of force making sure it stays closed and round the front of your car so you’re standing in front of him. You wonder for a moment as you stare at him if it’s your hormones already kicking in that makes you feel the need to make him feel better or if it’s just Harry who has this extremely annoying power to drive you to the brink of wanting to smack him a few time with your purse and leave him standing on the sidewalk alone and confused to all of a sudden switching it up to were you’re wanting to make sure he’s okay when he shows you any signs of distress. He watches your hands as they reach out and grab his and when you fill the gaps between his fingers with your own and give his hands a nice solid squeeze you watch his chest fall as he lets out a deep breath and his shoulders slump a bit. You look him in his eyes and give him a small smile while still giving his hands little reassuring squeezes.

“Would you like to come over? Have some tea?” Your question not only shocks Harry but you as well, not sure what came over you to even let the words slip out of your mouth, surely it’s just the hormones. Harry chews on his bottom lip for a moment before he looks down at his watch on his right wrist, checking the time before he looks back up at you.

“Uh sure yeah-yeah I can come over for a bit.” He answers with a nod. You just let go of his hands and reach over for the passenger side door handle so you can open it for him. Harry quickly looks at you with worried eyes and begins shaking his head and backing away from you while trying to reach into the front pocket of his jeans for his phone.

“Oh no I’ll just call my-”

“Harry.” You say with a sigh as you continue to hold the door open for him, he stops fumbling for his phone and stares at you making you roll your eyes as you gesture to the passenger seat with a tilt of your head.

“Just get in the car.” With that Harry just lets out a groan as he reluctantly takes a step towards the open door and bends down so he can pick up your purse off the seat. You bite back a laugh as you watch him have to duck down a bit to get into your car and he makes a show of buckling himself in nice and tightly once he’s sat in the seat. You give him a smile as he places your purse in his lap just as you close the door for him so you can go and get into the driver’s seat and take the two of you to your apartment.

“Do you have a cat?” You look at Harry over your shoulder from where you’re making yourself a cup of herbal tea in the kitchen and smile when you see him messing with a random stuffed mouse that somehow ended up on your table.

As if on queue Harry looks down as he feels something rub against his shin and you see a small smile tug at the corners of his lips when he sees your orange cat greeting him with a few purrs but it’s when you see him rub his head against Harry’s ankles that you feel obligated to warn him about something.

“Oh but watch out he might-” your words get cut off by a tiny squeal from Harry as he takes a step towards you with his eyes set in a glare aimed at the orange cat that’s decided to now head into the living room since Harry didn’t allow him to fully chomp down on his ankle like he wanted.

“He just bit me.” Harry states as he watches your cat jump onto your sofa and quickly flop down into a comfortable laying position. “He bit my ankle.” He explains while turning to now give you his full attention making you just shrug as you reach for the honey to add to your mug.

“Yeah well his name is Paris so he kinda has a thing for ankles.” Harry stares at the side of your face as you go about making your tea while explaining why your cat just bit his ankle and he rolls his eyes at how casual you are about it, but that’s something Harry is learning about you, you don’t seem to take a lot of things that seriously.

“What’s the city of love have to do with ankles?” He asks as you give the liquid in your mug a nice stir, he watches the way his question makes your brows pinch together and when you turn to look at him he sees your face looks almost concerned and he can’t imagine why considering the two of you are just talking about your cat.

“He’s named after Paris as in the one who killed Achilles.” When Harry just raises an eyebrow in response to your explanation you let out a long sigh as you pick up your mug. “Have you heard of Troy?”

“The Brad Pitt movie?” You have to fight off the urge to reach over and flick him in the ear at his answer but you just shake your head and walk past him and into your living room.

“No not the Brad Pitt movie I mean the actual story of Troy? With Achilles and Hector? The Trojan horse and all that?” Harry follows you into the living room and makes a mindful choice not to sit on the couch with the orange cat that just tried to make a meal out of his ankle, opting for the loveseat that’s placed across from the couch with a little coffee table in between the two pieces of furniture.

“Hector and the little horse thing are in the Brad Pitt movie though.” Harry explains as you get comfortable on the couch making Paris lift his head and look around to see who has come into the room and disturbed his peace.

“Little horse thing? Are you-you know what it’s not important.” You take a sip of your tea to help calm yourself down before placing it on the coffee table, Harry takes the opportunity to glance down and he quirks an eyebrow when he sees the name of the tea on the little tag hanging out of the mug.

“Paris shot Achilles in the ankle so that’s why I named him Paris…because he attacks the ankles of people he doesn’t like.” You smile as the orange cat stretches out next to you placing a paw on your thigh while Harry just lets out a scoff at the idea of your cat not liking him.

“You drink peppermint tea with honey? That’s criminal. And also there’s no way he doesn’t like me considering he just met me.” You laugh as you reach over and run your hand over Paris’s back making him purr while still keeping his eyes closed.

“Oh and it’s so hard to imagine someone not liking you after just meeting you?”

“Well yeah because he doesn’t know me so how can he not like me?”

“He knows enough to want to bite your ankle the first chance he got.”

“That’s because you’ve probably poisoned him against me.” You laugh and roll your eyes as Harry leans over and grabs your mug of tea off the table and brings it to his lips so he can taste it. “And that’s disgusting by the way.” He states with a face of disgust making you glare at him as you lean over and grab the mug from his hand before he can set it back down on the table.

“And I remember you being taller.” You mumble while Harry just glares at you from his spot on the loveseat. “What? You insulted my tea so I’m allowed to insult your-”

“I can’t really do anything about my height but you can and absolutely should fix the way you make tea because no one should be mixing honey with peppermint.” He argues as he watches you with a narrowed glare as you take a sip of your tea, you watch as he leans forward and rests his forearms on his knees and clasps his hands together.

“Is this how you always act when someone invites you into their home as a way of calming you down when you’re on the verge of a panic attack? You just insult them and-”

“I wasn’t having a panic attack.”

“You were maybe two minutes away from one and please stop interrupting me it’s so rude and isn’t your whole thing about treating people with-”

“How are you not panicking? You’re having a baby possibly my baby and you’re just sat there with your nasty tea and-”

“That’s it.” You say with a huff and Harry flinches slightly as you all but slam your mug down onto the table before standing up causing Paris to jolt awake at your sudden outburst. “You’ve insulted my car and my tea today and I was going to let it slide because that’s fine we can have differences in opinions on tea and cars but that’s on top of the fact you don’t even remember what happened between us that night and you think the story of Troy is just a Brad Pitt movie and I just-I think you should leave now.” Harry blinks up at you as your hands fall to your sides in what he almost thinks is a sign of defeat, as if you lost the internal battle you were having with yourself on trying to keep your cool with him and that makes his mouth droop a bit into a small frown.

“I remember plenty about what happened that night.” He counters as he slowly stands up while you grab your mug and turn towards the kitchen. Harry reaches for his phone in his front pocket so he can text his driver your address and a message to please come get him as soon as possible.

“If that were true then today wouldn’t have been such a shock for you.” You explain before you disappear from Harry’s sight, he can’t really put a finger on the exact feeling that comes over him as he stands there in your living room knowing that everything you said is true. He doesn’t remember exactly what went on between the two of you, at least not very clearly.

He knows that the two of you had an intimate moment in the bathroom because the evidence was shown to him this afternoon when the doctor handed him a piece of paper that told him you are truly pregnant and this is all really happening. Since then he hasn’t been able to think straight or focus on much of anything and if he’s being honest he really isn’t good in stressful situations in general, he tends to either overreact or just panic and this by far is one of the most stressful situations he’s ever found himself in and he knows he isn’t handling himself the way he should be. And your calm and relaxed demeanor just seems to make him even more unnerved because he doesn’t get how you’re not in the same panic riddled boat as him.

Harry runs a hand through his hair, giving a tug at his roots as he glances down to your couch, he catches Paris do a lengthy stretch before he sits up briefly just to look at Harry and decide that even he is fed up with him so he jumps off the couch and walks off into the kitchen. Now in that moment Harry knows he should do that as well, follow your cat’s lead and walk into your cramped kitchen so he can at least attempt to apologize for a few things but he doesn’t. Instead he just runs a knuckle under his nose as he sniffles a bit and when he feels his phone vibrate and sees a text letting him know his driver is on his way he lets out a heavy sigh. He takes one last look at your kitchen entryway, hoping that maybe you’ll come back and sit down on the couch and he thinks that he wouldn’t even mind if you didn’t say anything but just sat there not looking at him so that way he would at least be able to tell you goodbye and prove to you that he’s capable of being polite but the sound of the sink being turned on quickly wash away any traces of hope he might’ve had.

“This is so fucked.” He mumbles to himself as he walks towards your front door, he knows better than to leave the two of you like this, with certain things needing to be spoken and unkind words being the last ones said but he doesn’t have much of a choice since you won’t come out of the kitchen. So Harry opens your front door and walks out into the hallway making sure to close it as quietly as possible deciding that maybe this is for the best and at least he’s giving you exactly what you asked for, him leaving.

You watch the last bits of your tea go down the drain as the sound of your front door opening and then closing hits your ears, you take a few steps back from the sink so you can poke your head out into the living room and when you see it’s empty you just let out a sigh and go back to cleaning your mug. You didn’t want to end your afternoon like this, standing alone in your kitchen because your patience was worn too thin for the man who somehow managed to charm you into agreeing to a quickie in a bar bathroom over a month ago.

You almost don’t even know how that man and the one who was sat in your living room not even five minutes ago are the same person. The Harry you met at the bar was fun and flirty and even though he teased you throughout the night it was never with any real intention to hurt your feelings while this Harry can’t help but take every chance he can get to insult you or toss a jab your way about something. You don’t know why the corners of your mouth turn downwards at the idea of the night you two met never really meaning anything to him aside from being the night he got you pregnant. You don’t get to think about it for too much longer as Paris jumps onto the counter and makes his way over to sit next to the sink momentarily taking your mind off the curly haired boy.

“We can do this right? We’ll be fine won’t we?” You ask him while he sits there looking at you with his big green yellow-ish eyes that all of a sudden remind you a bit too much of the man who just left your apartment without even saying goodbye. “Next time bite him a bit harder okay?”