#and then take that to mean you think ALL should and are forcing them into it

[cherrygirlfriend]

pairing: frat!rafe x tutor!reader synopsis: reader attends a frat party where the theme is to dress up as your type warnings: fluff! wc: 1.3k i got this idea from the wonderful @rafeyscurtainbangs and it had me dead because it's so funny and i can picture him wearing that… i also tried out a new kinda formatting for funsies ^_^ also i'm surprised i’ve never posted for frat!rafe? anyway first fic for 2025!

you'd never really been much into parties, your best friend constantly trying to get you to go to some of the various parties the social butterfly had gotten invited to, but you simply held up the book you were in the middle of and let out a soft hum as a way to say that you had your own plans. after some more pleading, lexi always gave up trying to convince you to come and left you in your own devices, returning in the early hours of the morning, trying to be as quiet as possible yet waking you up every time.

but this time, all the girl had to do was mention the frat party she was going to that night when you let out a sigh and told her you'd come with her. maybe there was a second reason you wanted to go, other than to just please your friend.

"we're having a party this friday."

you chuckled, turning your gaze from the book in front of you to the boy next to you, "you're in a fraternity, rafe. i'm pretty sure that happens every friday without exception."

your words caused the boy to roll his eyes, yet the small grin you'd grown to like still remained on his lips as he repositioned his backwards cap, "yeah, but it's a themed party. you should come."

"why?" you furrowed your brows in suspicion and confusion as to why he'd want you to attend, "what's the theme?"

"you're supposed to dress up as your type."

"and what are you going as? some kind of variation of jennifer from jennifer's body? or regina from mean girls?" you let out a small snort.

"guess you'll have to come if you wanna find out." the boy poked your forearm with the rubber end of his pencil, licking his lips, "i wanna see what kind of guys you are into. i bet it's some thrifty hipster dudes or some broody bad boys that secretly get hard for poetry and emily dickinson and shit."

you felt your cheeks warm from the memory as you placed the backwards cap on your head. you looked in the mirror, clad in loose jeans that hung low on your hips so it'd show off the calvin klein logo on your underwear, and a sweatshirt adorning the logo of your university. the outfit you wore looked just like something rafe would wear during one of your tutoring sessions. hell, he probably had.

lexi looked at you with raised brows, the muscular girl who usually wore dark, baggy clothes looked strange in the blue sundress she'd borrowed from you, her biceps basically protruding from the short sleeves, the girl's short black hair pulled up into a tiny attempt at a ponytail, wearing some simple makeup that you'd helped her apply.

"you're going as a frat guy? to a frat party?" she snorted, taking in your ensemble, "damn, you date so little that i had no idea that's the type of guy you were into."

you rolled your eyes, throwing her the handbag that she'd asked you if she could borrow, "and you're going as...?"

"a straight girl." lexi said, her usual shit-eating grin taking over her lips.

"in that case, you could've just worn like, a grey hoodie, those flared leggings, and a pair of white nike air force ones. most straight girls here do. i think you've failed at your assignment."

"shut up."

you were surprised by how many people actually dressed up according to the theme, especially over the number of frat boys wearing different types of skirts and dresses, some of them even sporting poorly done makeup looks on their faces.

having gotten separated from lexi almost the moment you arrived to the party, you were now leaning against the living room wall, hiding a part of your face behind a red solo cup half-full of some sort of concoction you'd found as you looked around. you'd always been better at standing aside, observing what everyone else was doing, rather than trying to join in.

you lifted the cup to your mouth and drank some of the nasty liquid, nearly spitting it out when you spot rafe chatting to his friends, just about managing to swallow it before you keel in laughter.

he stood confidently in a grey cardigan strewn over a white button-up that was so small on him it actually turned into a crop top, showing off the lower part of his abs, a faint happy trail as well as a defined v-line leading to a short black pleated skirt, his calves covered by black socks that ended just below his knees.

it seemed that your amusement had caught rafe's attention, as the moment you'd finally managed to straighten yourself up, the boy was strutting over to you, his hands on his hips in a way that almost caused you to go into another laughing fit.

"what's so funny?" rafe asked with lifted brows as he reached you, looking over your outfit with a pleased look on his face before gesturing to his own, "you don't think i look hot?"

"oh, definitely. the hottest." you snorted, bringing the drink to your lips and taking a small sip before pursing your lips in thought, "so, what's your type? britney spears?"

the boy's brows furrowed at that, "huh?"

"you look just like her in one of her music videos." you explained, your lips falling open in shock as his eyebrows continued to remain furrowed, "you don't know 'baby one more time'?"

"i haven't seen it." rafe shrugged, "what, you can't recognize who i'm trying to dress as?"

"i can't say i do. who?"

"i'm dressed as you."

you knew that if you were able to see yourself, your eyes would comically widen the moment the words left rafe's lips; and as you looked at him up and down, you realized, that his outfit was something you'd usually wear; just more lewd. "you're... dressed as me?"

"yeah. and clearly you're dressed as me."

"based- based on what?" you laughed incredulously, feeling your cheeks light up, bringing the cup to your lips and drinking just so you'd be able to hide a part of your face from the boy.

"well," rafe snatched the cap on your head, placing it on his instead, making his entire ensemble look even goofier, as he took hold of the front of your sweatshirt. "i'm pretty sure i've worn this exact same outfit."

"that doesn't mean anything… plenty of guys wear this." you mumbled from behind your cup, only to have rafe grab it from your hands, your eyes widening as you watched him finish it in one swallow, scrunching up the cup and throwing it on the floor somewhere.

cupping your chin with his finger and lifting it up so you were looking up at him, rafe brought his face closer to yours, his ice-blue eyes looking into yours in a way that made you feel like you were naked as his lips twisted into a knowing grin, "it doesn't?"

"n-"

before you could finish denying it, rafe's lips were pressed against yours; your eyes still wide open when his free hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

slowly, you felt yourself melt into the kiss, your eyes automatically closing as your lips moved against his. your hands were pressed against his chest, slowly moving down to feel his defined abs over the sheer button-up.

you could feel rafe's grin against your lips before he even pulled away, looking down at you with a knowing look on his face, the boy licking his lips causing you to bite down on your lower lip, your head spinning from just kissing him.

"so, that didn't mean anything, huh?"

[abilusanji]

When I joined fandom a few years ago, I knew the score and made my freak tastes hyper public. When old fans rejoined, they had a story I wasn't expecting: "it didn't used to be this way "

It used to be that you could be private about your freak tastes and that was the norm. Now it's seen as you're hiding something, being deceitful to befriend people who don't like that stuff + gain access to them.

It's a weird, fucked up dynamic and I am particularly worried with how it affects teenagers who are transitioning into young adulthood. People who are coming into their own, developing their kinks, making those early mistakes, and also are amongst friends who are developing alongside them, or were the first people who took them in. I've seen quite a few hide their kinks to fit in, which makes it all the more controversial when it's "revealed" what they were hiding.

And this mentality doesn't even help to keep things public. It just means you have people like me, who then are sort of forced to make it their whole personality for the sake of making sure no one gets the wrong idea, or you get people who take those secrets to their grave. I've met so many people beloved by the "your kinks are gross" crowd who have those very kinks, just kept far away from anyone ever finding out (or honestly just below the surface... You'd be surprised how far you can get with kinks around lack of consent so long as you don't call it what it is).

It's a vicious cycle and I think you either have a friend group where it's absurdly not a problem, or a friend group where it is at which point it will probably only continue to worsen as the reigning mentality encompasses more and more of that part of your life. And getting out of those situations is hard, because often it involves making very hard choices at the beginning of relationships. Choices like "look at this person I vibe with and is super nice to me. Oh they made a joke where they said bdsm kinksters should be in jail. Time to completely remove them from my life." Are extreme and stupid and annoying and unfair. And often if you don't want to be in that position, it's one of the only ways you can be absolutely sure. I don't like this. I don't want it to be a thing. But I've seen frustrating shit happen enough times to know the pragmatic power to such a hard-line choice.

Idk man. This shit sucks you know.

You literally have to understand that ur closest friends and loved ones may very well have kinks or fetishes that gross or freak you out and they simply won’t tell you because they know it grosses or freaks you out. Like you have no way of knowing if your best friend is into necro roleplay if she doesn’t wanna tell you. Sometimes you date someone for years before finding out they have a thing for incest. Maybe your coworker likes ageplay and diapers. Who gives a fuck. Nothing changes between you knowing and not knowing except your own constructed moral outrage.

[preiyers]

♱ TAKE A CHANCE — LUIGI MANGIONE X READER

SUMMARY: your friend group takes a trip to the beach during summer break and one night, luigi just takes the chance to tell you how he feels.

WARNINGS: friends to lovers, making out, humping in the hot tub

A/N: i'll be using random names for their friends and a part of this is inspired by a scene in to all the boys i've loved before and this post

show a little loving, shine a little light on me

you and your friends have been staying at the beach for almost a week now. you'd be leaving in two days.

the six of you were currently finishing dinner and then planning on walking around the beach and getting ice cream, but things changed when the group insisted on resting and staying in the hotel instead.

as the group walked back, luigi was getting teased by the guys as you walked with the girls of the group, looking around the beach and talking.

"come on man, just take the chance while we're still here and tell her how you feel." marcus tells him and he just shrugs.

"i don't know, it might change things." luigi says with a hand rubbing the back of his neck. he was interested in you the moment you asked him for help on a computation — the way your eyes lit up when he said he'd help you and how happy you got when he gave you an example and you got it right.

he still remembered.

little did he know, the girls were also giving you the same talk.

"you never know y/n, it could be a good type of change!" they all agreed as one of the girls nudged you.

as you guys walked, you came across a souvenir shop. you stayed outside, looking up at the sky as the wind blew your hair. marcus gives luigi a look to hang back and stay with you which he was already going to do.

“hey,” luigi said from behind, startling you a bit which makes you jump. “i didn’t mean to scare you.” you both chuckle.

it was quiet between you two for a moment. you didn’t know what to say, how to start the conversation and so did he. the sound of the waves crashing and the rustling of leaves filled your ears.

until he spoke again. “are you okay?” he turns his head to look at you, inching a bit closer.

you could see from your peripheral vision that he was looking at you so you turned to completely face him. you just smile in response and nod.

“just thinking about how we have to go back to uni after all this,” you sighed, looking back up at the sky and crossing your arms. “i don’t know, i’m gonna miss it,” you glance back at him and he was still looking at you. the look he was giving you was something you’ve never seen before, it was unreadable but it made you feel something at the pit of your stomach. “i’m gonna miss everything.”

it felt like there was a magnet pulling the two of you closer and closer or if the tiredness was just getting to you and you were imagining things.

“i get that, nights where we’d just spend having fun together and not stressing over assignments,” he said softly, placing an arm on your shoulder, pulling you even closer. “i wish we could stay here forever.” he looks down at you and your heads are closer now.

tracy, one of your friends looked out for you guys and told your friends about it which got them to all smile at the pair of you, giving each other knowing looks. “it’s so happening,” marcus mouthed at the group.

you smile up at him, you notice he’s looking between your eyes and your lips. your stomach churns and immediately break away, afraid of what could possibly happen and your friends could be watching.

“we… we should head back, they’re probably looking for us.” you force out a laugh, rubbing your hand on your forearm.

after the group was done checking out the souvenir shop, all of you went back to the hotel. you and luigi not speaking a word at all. they all noticed and tried to get one of you two to talk but just got smiles from the two of you.

“i’m gonna stay in the jacuzzi for a while, you guys can go.” luigi tells the group once you’ve reached the hotel.

his gaze finds you, but your head was down, not wanting to look into his eyes. you could feel the awkwardness in the group and some of your friends glancing between you and luigi.

he sighs and parts ways with the group.

no one spoke during the elevator ride and when you guys were walking to your rooms. until tracy reached for your arm. “what happened?” she pulled you back from entering your room.

you shrug, “i don’t know. we were talking, it was good and then i felt like something was going to happen,” you looked down, playing with your fingers. “i got scared.”

she places a hand on your shoulder as a way to comfort you. “aw hun, it’s alright.“ she pulls you into a hug and then continues speaking. “but you do know, that boy does like you, and i don’t know exactly when it started, but i know he’s liked you for a while now.” the two of you pull away and she couldn’t read the expression on your face.

“i should go to him,” she nods at you. “you think he’s still there” you ask and she instantly nods, removing her hands from your body.

“yes go right now, you got this!” she says, gently pushing you to leave.

you rush to the elevator, press the button quickly, looking up which elevator is closest to your floor level. once an elevator opened, you immediately went in and pressed the button to the floor. you mentally prepared yourself for what you’d say to him.

luigi, i like you. no. that was too forward. luigi, remember when we-

the elevator doors open which cuts your inner monologue off. you focused on your breathing as you walked to the area where the pool and jacuzzi were.

and there he was. his arms up on the tub’s rim, back facing you. as you walked, it was like your heart was gonna beat out of your chest any moment.

“hey,” you said softly, him now being the one startled.

he turns his neck to look at your figure, going closer to the tub.

“hi.” he responds with a small smile on his face.

you walk to where the ladder was, climbing and sitting on the edge of the tub, taking off your shorts to put your legs in.

“i’m surprised you’re here,” he says, looking down at the pool then up at you. “thought i made you upset or something.”

you look away as he said the last part, watching the bubbles come up.

“no i’m okay. why would i be upset at you?” you looked up, his eyes still avoiding you which makes you just want to tell him how you felt already.

he bites his lip, then turns his head to face you. you can’t seem to read the look on his face, the same as earlier’s. he just shrugs. “i don’t know y/n, i just thought,” he shakes his head and closes his eyes.

and you already knew.

you took your tank top off and got in the tub completely now. the two of you sat at opposite sides of the hot tub.

“do you remember how we first met?” he asks you, opening his eyes to look at you.

you nod, waiting for him to continue.

“you asked me for help on the chemistry computation and you were so happy when i said yes,”

“and you even offered to tutor me for free,” you smile at the memory. “it was freshman year; i knew no one in class cause i enrolled late and everyone seemed to like you for some reason.” you teased, and he shakes his head with a smile on his face.

“yeah, well, what can i say, i’m a nice dude.” he joked, which made you roll your eyes and scoff jokingly. “uh, well, on that same day, i told marcus you were really pretty.” he avoided your eyes once again, and you just blinked at him.

“since then, i’ve liked you. i liked you when we were partnered up for projects, i liked you even when you made comments about my frat, i liked you when you’d give me massages when i’d get back pains, liked you even when you dated your ex and cried a whole week over the break-up,” he listed down which made you blush. it felt like he could go on and on the whole night with the list.

your gaze softened as he smiled at you.

“what i’m trying to say is, it’s always been you.” his breath hitches in his throat, the weight on his shoulders now gone after telling you what he truly felt.

the two of you looked at each other for a moment before you moved to where he was seated until you were in between his legs. the tension between the two of you could be cut by a knife. you take a breath before speaking up.

“i like you too lu.” you place a hand on his cheek and carress it. he smiles at you before grabbing your leg and wrapping it around his torso, now you were face to face with each other. the light from the pool, shining on your faces.

“there’s no one like you, y/n.” he whispers before crashing his lips onto yours.

the kiss started off slow and steady, his hands slowly moving up from your legs to your waist while you wrapped an arm around his shoulders, trying to get him closer to your body if that was even possible at your current position.

your lips were moving in sync, tilting your head a bit as you start to feel his tongue trying to slip in. once he does, he glides one of his hands to your ass, squeezing it a bit before placing it on top of his straining bulge.

he moves your hips as his tongue explores your mouth. you moan into the kiss, fingers finding its way to his curly hair and tugging on it softly.

never would you have expected this to happen during your trip, but at the same time, this is all you've wanted.

he's the first to pull away, leaning his head on your forehead, still keeping your bodies close to each other. the both of you try to catch your breath.

you giggle a little as you place your hands on each side of his face, caressing his cheeks before placing pecks on his moles and then his lips.

"come on, let's continue this in my room."

lmk if u wanna be added to the taglist!!

[pholla-jm]

Meet My Wife

IMAGINE: MEET MY WIFE~ LUFFY X F!READER GENRE: FLUFF warnings: f!reader implied. not proof read. slight cursing ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Luffy seemed more excited than usual. I mean, he’s always bouncing off the wall. But it was like he was expecting something and he couldn’t wait for it. 

“What do you think he’s excited about?” Chopper asks Nami.” She just sighs and waves her hand around, “knowing him. He’s probably excited about food.” 

Little did they know, they were about to be in a world of shock. 

Luffy did not waste a single second jumping off the boat as soon as it docked. He continued to run straight into town, like he knew exactly where he was going. 

The rest of the crew just watched him, some in confusion and some of them looked exhausted. Sanji sighs, taking a deep breath of his cigarette. “He’s most likely going to cause trouble.” Nami sighs, already feeling a headache form because of her idiot captain. 

However, it wasn’t food or a new adventure that got him this excited. No, it was someone who was very important to him. He remembered the instructions very clearly. He couldn’t forget it. Just follow the path, there are going to be white flowers along the path. It should lead all the way down to a small house with flowers and different plants all around the place. 

His eyes grew wide seeing the variety of plants and flowers, knowing that you had planted these yourself. The door opens and a large smile covers his face. 

“(y/n)!” He shouts, grabbing your attention. He ran at you, full force and it looked like he wasn’t going to stop. You drop the empty basket you were carrying, fully prepared for him to throw himself onto you. 

And you were right. His body crashes into you. His arms and legs wrapping around you, and he nuzzles his face into your cheek. The first thing he notices is how soft your skin feels against him. The second thing he notices is how sweet you smell. You smelled like fresh laundry, but with a hint of something sweet, like you were just baking. 

“Luffy.” You softly say with a smile on your face. “I didn’t know you were going to be here so soon… I missed you.” You whisper the last part. “I missed you too.” Lufffy pulls back, letting you go a bit. “Are you making something?” He asks. 

You nod your head, “yes. It’s actually almost done. Would you like to try some?” He immediately nods his head yes and you laugh. “I don’t know why I asked. Of course you would. Come inside.” 

He completely lets you go now, and you pick up the empty basket heading back inside. 

The sweet scent is stronger and Luffy basically salivates at the smell. You grab a cloth, pulling out the fresh strawberries and cream croissants. There were only a few, since you weren’t expecting company. 

“Careful, they’re hot.” You say but he doesn’t care. He’s already stuffing his mouth with a croissant. 

His eyes widen and there’s a smile on his face. “They're so good!” He says while grabbing another one. You laugh, “wait. Save one for me.” You grab the last one, taking a bite of it. You were glad how good they came out. 

Once he scarfs down the second croissant, he looks at you and clears his throat. “You should meet my crew!” He says like it was another Tuesday.  

Your eyes widen. “Really?” You ask and he nods his head. “Of course!” You suddenly got nervous and wondered what his crew was like. They had to be nice, right? Luffy only accepted the best of the best. So what would they think of you?

“Like right now?” 

Luffy stands up, “yeah!” He grabs onto your arm and drags you out of the small house. 

“W-wait! Wait! Let me at least clean myself up.” You try to tell him but it falls upon deaf ears. 

You were now leaving your property, and Luffy must've thought you were moving too slow because he suddenly picks you up bridal style. His arms securely wrapped underneath your legs and the other one supporting your back. 

You let out a small gasp, surprised at the action. It had you a bit flustered as he ran back to what you could assume was his ship. 

He was running for about five minutes until the both of you arrived at the port. Multiple ships lined up on the dock, but there was one that stood out to you. A ship with a sheep head. It was… cute. 

You could see people walking on the ship, minding their own business. Until they spot their captain holding some girl. 

The redhead girl gasps, gaining the attention of the other crewmates. 

“Holy shit, Luffy! Did you kidnap someone?!” Nami shouts, a bit horrified. 

Luffy just laughs as he jumps onto the ship, causing you to let out a short yelp at the unexpected height change. 

“No,” Luffy laughs while placing you down, “I want you to meet my wife.” He announces causing everyone on the ship to gasp. Your eyes widened and your cheeks warmed up at his announcement. There was no way he still thinks that the wedding was real…

“What?!” A blonde male shrieks, “you’re telling me that this idiot right here is actually married.” “Yup!” Luffy says with a proud smile on his face and his fists on his hips. “No, I don’t believe it.” Another male says while shaking his head. 

“Well believe it. We kissed and everything. It was official.” He says, causing you to cover your face in embarrassment. You had no idea that Luffy was going to introduce you like this. 

The blonde male cries out, shouting how unfair the universe was. 

“(y/n).” Luffy says while grabbing onto your wrist. He pulls you forward, “I want you to meet my crew!” 

He points at the blonde, “that’s Sanji, our cook.” He then points at the woman, “Nami, our navigator.” He then points at the curly headed man, “Usopp, aaaaand,” he points at the sleeping man with green hair, “Zoro.” 

“Everyone, this is (y/n). My wife!” He pulls you again. This time you were pressed up against him. You honestly felt like you were on fire. 

You wondered how strange this must've looked for them. And you honestly wanted to clear things up.

“B-but Luffy.” You whisper, gaining his attention. “We got married as kids. Kids, Lu.” You emphasize the words kid, hoping that he would get the hint. 

“Oh, yeah.” He says like he almost forgot something important, “I have these.” He pulls out two rings. The same poorly made rings that were made as kids. 

You grab one of the rings, feeling the familiar flutter in your heart. Luffy smiles, “I think they’re too small now. But that’s okay. We can make new ones.” 

A blush dusts your cheeks. It was really sweet that he still considers you his wife. “Yeah… that actually sounds really nice.” 

“Shishishi, I knew you would like that.”

Well... maybe things didn't have to be cleared up right away. Let the crew think the strange things.

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER FIVE ━━ I Get You

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 4.9K

❀ ━ warnings: mentions of injury, angst

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: these hoes are gay

PAIGE SITS on the sidelines, her crutches propped up against the wall, the weight of her brace a constant reminder. The gym smells like it always does—sweat, pine-scented floor cleaner, and faintly of old rubber. It’s familiar, almost comforting, but today it just feels hollow. Every bounce of the ball, every squeak of sneakers against polished wood, every shout of her teammates feels like a sharp stab. She should be out there. She should be running those plays, setting up the assists, pushing the pace, and taking those impossible shots. Instead, she’s stuck here, immobile and useless.

Her hands grip the edge of the chair, the cool metal biting into her palms as she leans forward to watch the scrimmage. Jo’s running point, calling out a play with that calm, sure voice Paige has come to admire. Jo makes it look easy, like she’s been apart of this team forever, and the rest of the girls respond to her without hesitation. It’s the kind of command Paige used to have, the kind she oddly always thought no one could replicate.

But between Jo and Nika, they’re doing fine without her.

And she thinks that’s the hardest part.

Every pass, every cut, every layup feels like a slap to Paige’s pride. The team doesn’t crumble without her; they adapt. Jo steps into the role Paige left vacant, and Paige can’t even dislike her for it because she’s so damn good at it. She runs the offense and with precision, directing the team perfectly. And, of course, it’s not like Paige wants her team to fail without her. It’s just a reminder of what she can’t do anymore—or, at least not for a long time.

Her stomach twists as she watches the scrimmage play out. She’s never been good at sitting still, and now, that’s all she can do. Sit and watch. She used to be the one lifting everyone’s spirits, the one pushing them through tough practices. Now she’s just another body on the sidelines, invisible and irrelevant. She feels like a ghost of herself, haunting the gym where she uses to thrive.

The ache in her knee is dull but persistent, a constant undercurrent to her frustration. The brace is still and cumbersome, and the crutches are a pain in the ass to deal with. Even getting to this chair had felt like a marathon. She hates every second of this—the injury, the recovery, the helplessness. It’s not just the physical pain; it’s the way it chips away at her identity. She doesn’t know who she is without basketball.

She glances down at the clipboard balanced on her lap, a half-hearted attempt to stay engaged. Geno had given it to her, suggesting she could help track plays and stats during practice, but it feels like a consolation prize. Like something he made up to keep her busy, to make her feel less like dead weight. The truth is, she doesn’t know what the hell her role is anymore. She doesn’t know how to help when she can’t be on the court.

Paige forced herself to focus back on the scrimmage, her eyes narrowing as Jo drives toward the basket. Jo’s quick, her movements sharp and meaningful, and instead of finishing with the layup, she does a no-look, dishing it out to Azzi on the perimeter, who buries a three. Paige catches Jo’s eyes as she jogs back up the court, and Jo flashes her that smile—warm, reassuring, effortless. It’s the kind of smile that should make Paige feel better, but—for once—it doesn’t.

Paige doesn’t have the energy to smile back. She knows Jo means well, knows she’s trying to be supportive, but it just makes Paige feel worse. She’s not in the mood for reassurance. She doesn’t want to be told it’s going to be okay, because it doesn’t feel like it ever will be.

Jo looks away and gets back into the flow of the game, and Paige’s gaze drops to the clipboard again. She scribbles something down, not because it matters, but because she needs something to do with her hands. She feels the tears prick at the corners of her eyes, and she bites the inside of her cheek hard enough to hurt.

The gym fades into background noise as her mind races. She thinks about the months ahead, the endless rehab sessions, the games she’ll have to watch from the bench. She thinks about how everyone else will move on, how the media will forget her name, how the team will find rhythm without her. She wonders if she’ll ever get that rhythm back, if she’ll ever feel like herself again.

She thinks she will. She has enough trust in God to hope he’ll at least give her that. But, here, right now, that feels so far ahead that it’s almost just wishful at this point.

Paige closes her eyes, breathing deeply. She can’t do this here, not in front of everyone. She pushes herself up from the chair, fumbling for her crutches. The awkward motion makes her wince, but she swallows the ache and glances at Geno.

“Gotta go to the bathroom,” she says, her voice too clipped to be convincing.

Geno narrows his eyes slightly, the way he always does when he’s trying to figure someone out. He nods once, and Paige feels the weight of his gaze as she turns away. She knows he can see right through her excuse, but he doesn’t call her out on it. She doesn’t need another lecture about staying engaged.

The moment she’s out of the gym, the air feels different—quieter, cooler, easier to breathe. The hallway stretches ahead of her, lined with murals of UConn legends. Paige’s crutches thud against the floor as she hobbles forward, her eyes skimming over the faces and names that loom on the walls. Maya Moore. Breanna Stewart. Diana Tayrasi. Sue Bird.

Her chest tightens.

She’s supposed to be part of this legacy. She’s supposed to be one of the names people remember, one of the faces immortalized in paint and pride. But now? Now she’s a girl with a busted knee and a brace that feels like a goddamn prison. The thought makes her stomach twist with equal parts anxiety and frustration, a bitter cocktail she’s been choking down since the surgery.

As she continues down the hall, trying to push those thoughts out of her head, she nearly collides with someone rounding the corner.

“Paige!”

Celeste Sinclair’s voice is bright and warm, and Paige immediately regrets leaving the gym. The grin that spreads across the redhead’s face feels too familiar, too personal, like an inside joke Paige isn’t in on.

“Hey,” Paige mutters, gripping the crutches tighter.

She hasn’t seen Celeste since before her ACL tear, and that’s probably for the best. The girls Paige hooks up with always have a way of getting too attached. Paige doesn’t blame them, not really. She knows she’s charming, knows how to make people feel like they’re the only one in the world when they’re with her. But that’s all it’s ever been: a moment.

Celeste is nice. Pretty. Accomplished. Good in bed. But Paige has never wanted anything more, never even given it a thought. Relationships aren’t for her. They never have been. Basketball has always been her first and only love, the one thing she’s willing to give herself to completely. And now that’s gone—at least for now. The last thing she needs is another reminder of how much she’s failed.

“I haven’t seen you since…” Celeste trails off, gesturing vaguely toward Paige’s knee, her voice tinged with sympathy. “How’re you holding up?”

Paige forces herself to smile, though it feels more like a grimace. “I’m good. Just takin’ it one day at a time.”

Celeste beams at her like she’s just said something profound, and Paige wants to die a little inside.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Celeste replies. “I wasn’t sure—did you get my card? I gave it to Jo to pass along before your surgery. Um, but you haven’t really said anything.”

Oh, right. The card. The one Paige didn’t even read. The one that’s now resting in a hospital trash can. Paige rubs a hand over her face, buying time to piece together an answer. “Yeah—uh, yeah, I got it. Sorry I said nothin’. Thanks, though.”

Celeste’s smile widens, and her eyes soften in that way that makes Paige want to shuffle awkwardly away. Celeste always looks at her like that, like there’s something more between them, something Paige knows she’ll never be able to—or want—to give.

“You’re welcome,” Celeste says gently. “I just wanted you to know I was thinking about you.”

Paige more, hoping that’s the end of it, but of course, it’s not.

“Hey,” Celeste starts, her tone shifting to something more professional, “any chance you’d be up for, like, a TikTok? Just something to show the fans you’re healing. They’d love to see you.”

It’s times like these that Paige understands why Jo thought it was so funny she was fucking their media girl. Paige stares at Celeste for a long second, feeling a spark of irritation flare in her chest, because, seriously, why would she even ask that? “No, Celeste. I don’t wanna do any media.”

The words come out sharper than she intends, but she doesn’t care enough to soften them. She adjusts her grip on her crutches, already turning to leave.

“Right,” Celeste says quickly, falling into step beside her. “I get that. Totally. Just… heal up, okay? Call or text, if you want to. You know where to find me.”

Paige doesn’t respond, just gives her a brief nod before hobbling down the hall. Her pace is slow, each step a frustrating reminder of how far she is from where she wants to be. Celeste finally stops following, and Paige exhales in relief as she rounds another corner, desperate for some space, some air, anything that doesn’t feel like pressure or pity.

AFTER PRACTICE, Jo walks into the locker room with the rest of the team, the chatter and laughter bouncing off the walls as everyone unwinds from the session. She’s still buzzing with the energy of the scrimmage (and the sprints they were forced to do after because of one-too-many missed layups), but as she rounds the corner to the lockers, she notices a familiar figure slouched on the bench.

Paige had disappeared halfway through practice, and though Geno didn’t make a big deal out of it, Jo had been aware of her absence like a missing puzzle piece. Now here she is, sitting in front of their side-by-side lockers, her crutches leaning against the bench and her gaze a little unfocused. Her brace sticks out awkwardly from her bent leg, and Jo feels a pant of sympathy tighten her chest.

“Hey,” Jo says as she tosses her bag in the cubby of her locker. She sits down beside Paige, close enough to make her presence known but not enough to crowd her. “You okay?”

Paige shrugs, her lips pulling into a vague shape that might be a smile but doesn’t come close. “Yeah. ‘M fine.”

Jo doesn’t buy it. It’s not that Paige is necessarily a bad liar; she’s just too proud, too stubborn to admit when she’s not. Jo watches her for a beat, the slump of her shoulders, the way her fingers fight with the hem of her T-shirt. She knows this posture, this energy. It’s the same one she’s seen in teammates who’ve been sidelined by injures, the same one she’s seen in herself on the bad days.

But Jo doesn’t push. She knows how that can feel—suffocating, like someone prying open a door you’re not ready to unlock. Instead, she plants her hands on the bench and leans back a little, changing the subject.

“Did you see Lou get me with that spin move earlier?” Jo asks, keeping her tone light. “Literally cooked me.”

Paige lets out a small, breathy laugh, almost imperceptible, but Jo catches it. It’s the first sign of life she’s seen in her all day.

“Didn’t even look like she was trying,” Paige mutters, her voice flat but laced with the ghost of a smirk.

“Right?” Jo exclaims, throwing up her hands in mock indignation. “It’s like, leave some dignity for the rest of us, y’know?”

She continues on, telling some half-dramatic story of when Nika picked her pocket after Paige left, weaving in jokes at her own expanse. She avoids anything too basketball-heavy, keeping the focus on the absurdity of her own experiences instead of the game itself. It’s a careful balance—Jo knows that bringing up basketball might sting, but it’s also a thread that ties them together, a shared language Paige can’t—and Jo knows she doesn’t want to—escape from.

Paige hums in response now and then, her focus flickering like a weak signal. Jo can tell she’s only half-listening, her mind somewhere else entirely. Still, she keeps going, hoping that her presence, if nothing else, might pull Paige out of her head a little.

After a while, as everyone’s getting up to go, Jo shifts the conversation again, tilting her head toward Paige. “Y’know, we could hang out later—maybe watch a movie or something?”

Paige looks at her, and for a split second, Jo thinks she might say no outright. Instead, Paige forces a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes and says, “Maybe.”

The hesitation is there, sharp and obvious, but Jo doesn’t call it out. She knows better than to push. She lets the word hang in the air for a moment before nodding, as if “maybe” is a real plan.

“Okay,” Jo says, keeping her tone casual.

Paige turns back to her hands, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the bench. Jo watches her out of the corner of her eye, thinking of something that might reach her. She’s learned that Paige is pretty independent, something that stems from her childhood if Jo had to guess, and Jo respects that. She does. But there’s a difference between being independent and shutting everyone out, and Jo worries that Paige is tipping too far into the latter.

She tries to think of something—anything—that might help. She doesn’t need to cheer Paige up, necessarily. She’s learned by now that joy isn’t always the right goal. What Paige needs isn’t sunshine and rainbows (though Jo would probably be better at giving her that). What she needs is something steadier, quieter. A reminder that she’s not alone, even if she feels like she is.

She’ll figure something out.

PAIGE LIES sprawled across her bed, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the string lights draped along the wall. Her eyes are fixed on her crutches, propped up against the wall next to her like a taunt she can’t escape. They stand there, silent and unmoving, mocking her with their stillness while the rest of the world seems to keep spinning without her.

Today has been one of the most frustrating days she’s had since the injury. The hours feel heavier, pressing against her chest, leaving no room to breathe. Practice was a disaster, even though she wasn’t really in it. She hates watching from the sidelines, hates feeling so useless. She’d escaped halfway through, hobbling out of the gym under the guise of needing air, only to run into Celeste, of all people. That interaction still churns in her stomach—awkward and uncomfortable, like a bruise pressed too hard.

Jo had asked her earlier if she wanted to hang out tonight. Just a movie, something simple. Paige had said “maybe” at the time. But an hour or so ago, when Jo knocked softly on her door, her voice east and unassuming as she asked if Paige wanted to make good on the plan, Paige had thrown out some half-baked excuse about being tired.

Jo didn’t push, of course. She never does. She just nodded, smiled a little, and closed the door, before Paige heard her leave the apartment—probably to go upstairs and hangout with their teammates. Her stomach twisted with guilt as she listened because Jo is Jo—kind and patient and the only person who seems to understand that Paige doesn’t want to talk about any of this. She doesn’t want to be asked how she’s doing, doesn’t want to be told it’ll get better, doesn’t want to be smothered in sympathy that feels more like pity.

But Jo’s absence now feels louder than her presence earlier. Paige stares at the ceiling, trying to will herself into a calmer state, trying to shake off the weight of the day, the week, the last month. It doesn’t work.

She sits up abruptly, shoving the blankets off her legs and swinging them over the side of the bed. Her knee twinges at the movement, the brace digging into her skin, and she lets out a frustrated huff. Her eyes land on the crutches again, the sharp lines of their edges casting long shadows in the dim light. She feels a bubbling in her chest—an anger she doesn’t know how to direct, a helplessness she doesn’t know how to contain.

Before she even realizes what she’s doing, Paige grabs one of the crutches from beside the bed and hurls it across the room. It crashes against the wall with a dull thud, sliding to the floor in a defeated heap. The sound echoes in the silence, and for a moment, she just stares at the aftermath, her chest heaving.

And then the tears come.

It’s not the first time she’s cried since the injury, but it feels different tonight—uglier, rawer, like the dam has finally burst. She curls in on herself, her hands tangling in her hair as sobs wrack her body. She doesn’t bother trying to quiet them. There’s no one here to hear her, no one to ask if she’s okay, no one to offer meaningless reassurances she doesn’t want to hear.

Except, there is.

A soft, hesitant knock at Paige’s bedroom door jolts her out of her spiraling thoughts. She freezes, her hands instinctively wiping at her face, smearing away the tears that have already begun to dry against her skin. Confusion threads through her—she thought Jo had left. She hadn’t even heard her come back.

The door creaks open, and there Jo is, standing in the sun light spilling from the hallway. Her brows are furrowed, her mouth pulled into a concerned line. She takes a step inside, her eyes scanning the room. Paige knows what she sees—the red puffiness of her face, the dampness of her cheeks, and the crutch lying discarded by the wall like a casualty of war.

“Sorry,” Paige blurts out, her voice cracking as the word tumbles out in a rush. She feels a fresh wave of shame rise up. She’s been awful to Jo, she knows that. First brushing her off earlier, and now this—disturbing her peace with her mess, her ability to just hold it together for once.

Jo doesn’t say anything for a moment, just stands there, her eyes roving over Paige’s face, taking in every detail. Paige hates how exposed she feels, like Jo can see right through the flimsy walls she’s been trying to keep up all day. Finally, Jo sighs and steps fully into the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

“Paige,” Jo says gently, “you don’t have to be sorry.”

There’s something in Jo’s voice that makes Paige want to believe her. Something so simple, yet so genuine, that it threatens to unravel the last bit of control she has. She doesn’t respond, just watches as Jo walks closer. She sets something—a bag, Paige thinks—on the floor next to the bed, but Paige doesn’t even bother to look at it. Jo sits down on the edge of the mattress, close enough that Paige can smell the faint traces of strawberry body wash on her skin. She hates that it makes her stomach do that weird fluttery thing, hates that it makes her feel anything at all.

“I’m just—” Jo pauses, and Paige looks up at her. Jo’s eyes are soft but unwavering, and the way she’s looking at Paige, like she’s trying to will her to understand something without saying it outright, makes her heart squeeze. “I’m really worried about you, P.”

The flutter in Paige’s stomach turns into something heavier, like a weight pressing down on her stomach. Jo’s worried about her. Paige knows that other people have probably been worried about her too—her parents, her teammates, her coaches—but it feels different coming from Jo. It feels too much. She shifts uncomfortably, trying to ignore the way Jo’s gaze feels like it’s peeling back all her layers.

“I’m fine,” Paige says automatically. The word sound hollow even to her, like a tired script she’s forced herself to memorize.

Jo shakes her head, her expressing softening even more. “No, you’re not. And it’s okay not to be.”

Paige doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to put into words what’s been clawing at her chest since the injury.

“But you’re shutting everyone out,” Jo continues, her voice steady but not accusatory. “It’s like you won’t even look at me some days, let alone talk to me. And I get it. I do. But I just—I want you to know that I’m here. That you can talk to me, because I’ve been there.”

Paige stares at her, the words catching her slightly off guard. I’m here. It’s such a simple thing to say, but the way Jo says it, low and earnest, makes something in Paige’s chest twist. She doesn’t know what to do with that—doesn’t know how to accept it without feeling like she’s admitting defeat.

“Azzi already tried,” Paige says finally, sounding shaky. “She tore her ACL in high school, and she tried to talk to me about it. But it’s just—she still didn’t seem to get it. No one does—I don’t know—” Her voice cracks on the last few words, and she feels the tears welling up again, hot and relentless.

Jo studies her for a long moment, her head tilting slightly. “You think nobody gets you?” she asks softly.

Paige nods, the movement slow and heavy, her throat too tight to speak.

Jo nods too, as if she’s been expecting that. “It’s not true,” she says simply. “I get you. I do.”

Paige shakes her head, a weak protest already forking. “Jo—”

“No, really,” Jo interrupts, leaning forward slightly. “You feel like everyone expects you to be perfect, all the time. You feel like if you’re not the Paige Bueckers everyone knows—the player, the leader, the star—that you’re letting everyone down. Your team, your coaches, your fans, your family—yourself. You feel like you don’t even know who you are without basketball, because it’s been your whole life for as long as you can remember. And now that it’s been taken away from you, you don’t know how to exist. You feel lost, like a piece of you is missing, and you’re scared—terrified, actually—that you’ll never get it back And you’re so used to dealing with everything on your own, to putting on a brave face and pretending you’re fine, that the thought of letting anyone in feels basically impossible. Like if you let even one crack show, then the whole thing will just come crashing down.”

The words hit Paige like a tidal wave. Every sentence is a punch to the gut, not because it hurts, but because it’s true. Jo’s right—about all of it. About the fear, the pressure, the suffocating wright of it all. And the way Jo says it, calm and matter-of-fact, makes it even harder to ignore.

“Was I right?” Jo asks softly, her eyes searching Paige’s face.

Paige swallows hard, her chest tight as she stares at Jo. There’s something about the way Jo’s looking at her—steady and unwavering, like she’ll wait forever if she has to—that makes Paige feel like the room is tilting. She wants to run from it, but she also doesn’t want Jo to stop.

Finally, she nods, her voice barely a whisper. “Yeah,” she says, her throat dry. “You were.”

Paige doesn’t know how to process the way Jo’s smile hits her. It’s small, soft, and knowing, but it wraps around Paige like a hug. Jo leans a little closer, her voice warm and teasing when she says, “See? I told you.”

There’s something about those words, about the certainty in Jo’s tone. She doesn’t want to cry anymore—God, she doesn’t want to—but something about Jo makes her feel like it would be okay if she did.

Jo’s voice interrupts her thoughts. “Scoot over.”

Paige blinks at her, furrowing her brows. “What?”

Jo doesn’t elaborate, just gestures for Paige to move. Paige hesitates, unsure of where this is going, but she shuffled over, making room on the bed. Jo grabs the bag she set down earlier and pulls herself up onto the bed. Paige watches as Jo leans back, settling against the wall, her shoulder brushing Paige’s, her other side cuddling into Sunny, the stuffed animal she gave Paige.

“What’s that?” the blonde asks, gesturing toward the bag with a slight sniffle. Her voice is still shaky from earlier, and she hates how small she sounds.

Jo pulls the bag into her lap, her voice lighter now, almost back to her usual bright, less-serious self. “Oh, this?” She opens it and pulls out a little tub of ice cream. “I went out and got us ice cream. I got your disgusting mint chip.”

Paige blinks, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth despite herself. That’s where Jo had gone, even after she’d bailed on their plans. Paige takes the ice cream Jo offers, along with a spoon, feeling a warmth spread through her chest that has nothing to do with the food.

Jo retrieves her own tub—still cotton candy, still gross—and balances it in her lap.

They sit in silence for a moment, and Paige lets herself watch Jo as she digs into her ice cream. There’s something so effortless about her, the way she fits into Paige’s space like she belongs here.

Jo suddenly looks around, frowning a little as if searching for something. “Where’s your—?” she starts but doesn’t finish before her eyes lick on something and she leans over Paige, reaching toward the nightstand.

It happens so quickly that all Paige can do is freeze. Jo’s arm brushes her side, her hair falls near Paige’s face, and Paige can smell her shampoo, something sweet and faintly strawberry. Paige’s heart starts racing, and she doesn’t understand why.

Jo grabs the TV remote and sits back, settling into her spot again like nothing happened. Paige feels ridiculous for how flustered she is, but she can’t help it.

Jo turns on the TV, flipping through the streaming apps before looking over at Paige. “You ready to finally start The Vampire Diaries?”

The blonde groans, leaning her head back against the wall. “No, I don’t wanna watch that.”

Jo’s been pestering her about this show for what feels like forever, insisting Paige would love it if she just gave it a chance. Paige, naturally, has resisted every time.

The younger girl shrugs, clearly unfazed. “Well, I don’t care. You’re already a little too depressed to keep watching Grey’s, sorry. It’s more fun to watch vampires eat people. Besides, the Salvatores are hot.”

Paige deadpans, “I’m gay.”

Jo doesn’t miss a beat. “Okay, Nina Dobrev’s hot.”

And, yeah, Paige supposes she can’t argue with that. She sighs, defeated, and waves a hand toward the TV. “Fine. Put it on.”

Jo grins like she’s won a battle, which she kind of has, and presses play. Paige doesn’t know what to expect, but she lets herself settle in as the first episode begins. Part of her wonders why this show is Jo’s favorite. Because, really, what is it about brooding vampires and dumbass love triangles that she loves so much? Maybe, Paige thinks, if she watches closely, she’ll learn something about Jo.

They eat their ice cream in comfortable silence as the show plays, the room filled with the sounds of dramatic dialogue and overly intense music.

After a while, Paige’s appetite fades. She sets her ice cream tub on the nightstand, not in grow her arm brushes Jo’s when she moves. Her heart stutters again, and she tries to ignore it, sliding back into her spot.

Without really thinking, she leans her head on Jo’s shoulder. It’s a small gesture, but it feels huge for some reason. Paige tells herself it’s just because she’s tired, that she needs comfort after everything that’s happened today. But the way her heart races says otherwise.

“Thanks, Joey,” she murmurs quietly.

Jo shifts slightly, and then Paige feels it—the warmth of Jo’s hand as it settles over her own. Paige’s breath catches, her stomach doing something weird and unfamiliar.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Jo says softly, certain.

But Paige does want to thank her, even if she doesn’t know how to put it into words. She doesn’t know how to explain what this means—Jo showing up, staying, not letting her spiral alone. All she knows is that her hand seems to fit perfectly under Jo’s slightly smaller one, and she doesn’t want to move.

The episode plays on, but Paige isn’t really watching anymore. She’s too focused on the warmth of Jo’s shoulder against her cheek, the quiet rise and fall of her breathing, the way her hand hasn’t moved from Paige’s. And in the back of her mind, Paige knows there’s something here—something bigger than she’s ready to admit.

[snailune]

Here's how I've planned to help myself with this in the new year.

I'm not, you know, any person of real authority on anything this covers, but maybe my plans could help you. I don't believe there is ever an expiration on getting yourself back, or making a new self from the old.

1. Acknowledging why you became a ghost is important in treating yourself like a person. From what I've seen, it's more common to have multiple issues than just one when it comes to losing or not knowing yourself. It's more likely been something that has served you at some point that isn't anymore, or went too far, or something out of your immediate control. Acknowledging this is the first step to understanding that you are not a permeable thing, that cause and effect happen to you. If you've lost enough to believe that the things you do have no effect on the world, the first step in getting that sense back is this.

2. Are you safe? Judge whether you are materially unsafe from expressing yourself in any way that could come up. If you are, you might not be able to do everything in it's full capacity, but you will be able to tear down some constructs in your own head to be more yourself. You can still do something. It's important to note that you'll probably feel the urge to hide away or suppress things when you first start expressing yourself, but that is a bit different than being unsafe.

3. Stop the urge to hide all of your dislikes from yourself and start small. Allow yourself to dislike something (a food, maybe?) and don't try to force your will to be tolerant of it, even if you don't express that dislike to other people yet.

4. If you're transgender, and have the will and means to, transition. Pick out a name and only use it to refer to yourself when thinking. Ask trusted friends to call you something different to test it out. If you're questioning, allow yourself to think about how you want to be perceived without the fear of someone reaching in and judging you for them. There is no thought you can be punished for. Of course, you can do bigger things, like starting medically transitioning if you want (and that is encouraged), but you can start small if it's scary, too. I don't think there's one thing on this list that has worked better for me than medically and socially transitioning.

5. Look back on what you liked as a child and try it out again. Not everything will be winners, there's some things that were just better in the past than now, but you might rekindle something that is near to you enough to call a personality trait, too. If you don't have any memory of the things you liked in your youth, it's the perfect time to explore things, especially if they're hobbies that everyone else has seemed to be doing since childhood.

6. Be more social, and/or ask your friends to reassure you that they know you. Talking to people in any capacity can help make yourself feel more like a real person if you connect at all. If you have trusted friends, ask them if they'd list some traits about you that they know of. Help establish a foundation of moving around in the world.

7. Take special notice in the little things you like. I just realized I like cut up raw veggies instead of a lot of Actual prepared dishes. Thinking of this as a fun journey rather than something someone should have figured out about themselves years ago makes it easier.

These are in essence my resolutions for the new year. If you are also going through something similar, we are in this together! Good luck to you, I hope you find joy, happiness, and contentment.

oooohhhh ok. the more you deny yourself the more you lose yourself

[baby--vera]

Blue Lock Boys as Dads

rin, sae, isagi, reo, kunigami, yukimiya

☆ミ

navigation • masterlist • bllk masterlist

itoshi rin

defo a girl and boy dad. older girl, younger boy vibes. when your pregnant he's definitely the type to get really fussy and not let you do anything incase you hurt yourself or the baby (he won't let you get a glass of water yourself). when your water broke he panicked and accidentally brought you to the wrong hospital...and you had to, as calmly as you could, tell him. and ge FREAKED out. when your baby was born it was all well, he took most night shifts to let you rest as much as you could, even though he's a professional athlete and should probably not be staying up, he would break the rules for you (and the baby too). fortunately, your second pregnancy experience was less chaotic as the first, rin still did the regular night shifts though <3

itoshi sae

only child dad vibes here. if its a girl, he would spoil her SOO much you'd have to scold him for it. but he still continues to treat your daughter like a princess behind your knowledge. on the other hand, if its a boy, he DEFINITELY bought the kid a football...he wouldn't force them to play but he would like his kid to at least try it. whether boy or girl, if they end up playing sports he would be at every match possible to support his child, even coaching them himself. your kid would be the star player of any sports team lol. but if your kid doesn't do sports, sae would also be very supportive of their hobbies, going as far as to buying the best equipment possible for it. however sae would be quite a strict dad from time to time, such as curfews and screen time. but in the end, he just wants what's best for his baby and to keep them safe <3

isagi yoichi

3 kids. he want 3 kids. obviously if you don't want that many he would respect your wishes but its just what his ideal family looked like in his imagination. he would be SOO helpful during and after your pregnancy. would give you massages, cook for you, carry you, anything you can name this guy has done for you. when it comes to taking care of the kids he definitely is big help too. he would carry them all the time and play with them all the time too. but when he's away for matches, you always facetime him before to say good luck and show him the kids in his jersey (he tears up it's too cute) but if isagi's match is nearby, you would bring your kids with you, of course wearing his jersey again, and cheer him on. he also will full on leg it to you all after a match to give you all big kisses (sometimes you might feature in his interviews too) <3

reo mikage

2 kids. either both girls or both boys. idk why i just thought of this when i thought of reo. when you tell reo you're pregnant he is over the moon, and he vows that he will not treat his kids like how his parents treated him, meaning he will let his kids have their own dreams insteaf of having to take over the mikage company. however, he will still spoil his children SO MUCH. you literally are face palming everytime he does. when your nearly about to give birth, he takes time off football (despite the disappointment from nagi lol) to take care of you and after you give birth. but when your children are a bit older he literally begs you to bring them to his matches and even gets you vip seats so they can see how cool their daddy is. if his matches are abroad, he will also pay for your plane tickets (in 1st class ofc) to come see him abroad and so he can see you and the kids. he will boast about it after the match <3

kunigami rensuke

kinda basing this off his own family but 2 girls and 1 boy. he's of course a REALLY good girl dad because he has younger sisters. he knows everything his 2 baby girls need and how they think (fr mind reader). as for his baby boy, he taught him football, of course. when we plays with his son he does play a little rough but not enough to hurt his kid. he would never forgive himself if he hurt his own kids, son or daughter. he love them all equally. (he's just a big teddy bear, even after wildcard he wouldn't treat his family any different) <3

yukimiya kenyu

2 kids. older boy and younger girl. yukimiya is the definition of GENTLEMAN. he is literally perfect. he researched everything when you told him you were first pregnant, so that he was prepared. everything went perfectly smoothly and soon, you two had your second baby. yukimiya also would take time off football to take care of you and the kids until they're manageable for you when he's away for matches. his son is a massive fan of his own father (who wouldn't be) and your baby girl is just there for the vibes lol. they have exact replicas of yukimiya's sports glasses and signed jerseys. but when the kids grow out of their baby jerseys, yukimiya gets a bit emotional, he cant bring himself to throw them away. so the frames the little baby jerseys in the living room if your house <3

here's a little thought/drabble for yall bc my maths series is taking a while...(im so sorry it will take a bit😔)

hope you like this and a smau should be out in a bit too ( 〃▽〃)

[whoops-all-jennas]

Look Who's Inside Again - j.o.

Jenna Ortega x fem!reader

"Try making faces, try telling jokes making little sounds."

Summary: This is your first time playing a major role in a movie and it's intimidating. Jenna comforts you after you hide away in your trailer.

a/n: y/f/m means your favorite media. movie, book, anime, video game, whatever.

The muted sound of everyone talking fills my ears as I zone out. The first few days on set are being used to get the cast adjusted to each other. I've never had such a major role before in a big movie, to say I'm nervous is an understatement.

I already have trouble talking to people normally, how am I supposed to talk to celebrities? Especially when they're the ones approaching me. Shouldn't it be the other way around?

"Y/n?" A voice enters my head, my head perking up at the mention of my name. I meet my eyes to Jenna's. "Are you okay?"

"I uh, yeah I'm doing good." I force a smile before looking to the side, avoiding her gaze. I have never felt more parasocial in my life. How am I supposed to hold a conversation with these people, especially Jenna, when I feel like I already know too much about them and they know nothing about me.

The main cast consists of four people. Jenna Ortega, Finn Wolfhard, Wyatt Oleff, and I. It's one of those horror movies where it's a group of teenagers investigating something where they should die because of it, but we all know they won't because it's a movie.

"So are you excited? This is your first major role right?" I turn towards the voice to meet Finn. "This could be a big debut for you."

"Yeah I'm excited." I grab my arm, holding myself and taking up as little space as possible. "I'm mostly nervous though, a lot can happen."

I feel Jenna's gaze on me, so I turn to look at her to find a look of curiosity in her eyes. "It can be intimidating, but you can do it. I believe in you." Jenna's genuine smile meets my uncertain face.

Jenna saying 'I believe in you' repeats in my head like a metronome. This somehow makes me feel more nervous and also safer at the same time.

I just don't want to embarrass myself in front of these people, especially Jenna.

It seems the conversation continued while I was in my head. Everyone's eyes were on me expectingly. Did they ask me something?

"Sorry, what'd you guys say?" I ask, Finn and Wyatt look at each for a moment with a face that I can't tell is annoyance or uncertainty. "It wasn't important." Wyatt states.

That feeling of safety is now gone, my heart beating at a thousand miles an hour.

Was it important?

I feel my legs start to shake from the nerves, as if I could fall at the slightest inconvenience.

The nervousness replaced with anxiety and uncontrollable thoughts. 'Did I already blow it before I did a single scene? Does everyone think I'm annoying? That I'm distant?'

I find Jenna's worried gaze on me yet again, causing me to look at the ground for a moment before trying to keep eye contact with the main cast and failing. "I'll be back."

I quickly find myself walking to my assigned trailer, my pace faster than usual. When I finally find myself inside, I close the door pushing my back against it before sliding down. I sit there with my knees to my chest and head in my arms wrapped around my legs.

I already decorated my trailer to procrastinate on meeting the others. I tried my best to make it feel like home, bringing posters and collectibles from different pieces of media I enjoy. The blinds are closed, blocking the light sure, but also separating the trailer from the set.

Luckily, I also brought some string lights to hang across the ceiling. I don't know if I could handle the harsh florescent lights my entire time here.

I take a moment to try to take control of my breathing, doing the breathing exercises I've been instructed since I was little.

I'm interrupted with knocking on the door I'm leaning on. I stand to open the door to find Jenna Ortega on the other side. I still can't believe I'm seeing her in person and on talking terms.

Well, if I ever actually try to talk to her that is.

"Hey, I just wanted to check on you. It seemed like something was wrong." Her worried yet genuine glance meets mine.

"I'm- I don't know." I cut myself off to stop myself from lying, biting my bottom lip.

Jenna looks past me for a moment. "Can I come in?"

I nod, opening the door more and taking a step back. Jenna walks past me, she's wearing this nice perfume that fills the scentless trailer.

She looks around, admiring the decorations. "I like the string lights, I can't handle the florescent lights they use in these."

I close the door before approaching the built in couch. "Thanks, I actually wasn't aware of them until I got here. Luckily, I brought them from home by chance."

Jenna turns, taking the seat next to me. "Do you wanna talk about what's wrong? I understand if you don't want to."

"I-"

I cut myself off again, unsure what to say. "I don't know."

My heart is still beating to the bpm of flight of the bumblebee.

Jenna gives me a genuine smile, trying to make me feel comfortable, before glancing around the room again. Her eyes linger on the merchandise of different medias.

"How about we talk about media we like?" Her genuine gaze meeting mine. "I'll start, I really like Breaking Bad. It's kinda a guilty pleasure of mine."

My eyes slightly light up.

"I also really like Breaking Bad." I say, trying to reflect her genuineness. "I really like the character development and how much they change throughout the story."

Jenna scots a little closer. "I know right?! it's so good!" She seems so interested in the conversation.

She looks into my eyes with a smile. "Now it's your turn."

I look around the room for a moment, unsure what I should say. For a lot of my life I was told I can get annoying when I delve into my interests. It's like whenever I start talking about it I can't stop.

I don't want her to think I'm annoying, but I also don't want to tear down all the work she did to try to get me comfortable.

"I really like y/f/m, I just love the universe that they made so much and the characters." I start speaking, pausing for a moment to read Jenna's expression.

She is smiling and has this look in her eyes, like a genuine interest in what I'm talking about. My eyes feel like an open door as she looks into them.

"You can keep talking, I was listening." Her smile somehow becomes more genuine, causing a smile to creep up on my face.

For the past few minutes Jenna let me ramble about y/f/m. I soon realize I've likely been rambling for way too long "I'm sorry, I didn't realize how long I was talking." My smile fades, turning to embarrassment in an instant.

"What, no it's okay." She puts a hand on my knee comfortingly. "I was interested in what you were talking about."

I look at her eyes, her genuine eyes complimented with her genuine smile.

She is just so genuine.

"Are you sure I'm not being annoying?" I ask, insecurity laced in my voice.

She nods to me, her smile fills my heart.

I'll never get over the way she looks at me. As if she's actually interested in the conversation, interested in who I am.

I find myself looking down to the couch cushion, hiding my face. Soft gentle sobs start to escape my body, my shoulders slightly shaking.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Jenna scots closer, her hand gently grabbing my unstable shoulders.

I sniffle before getting my head up, revealing my glossy eyes and a few tears. My head feels like a boulder, trying to keep it lifted on top of my shoulders.

I shake my head with a smile. "It's stupid."

"There isn't a stupid reason to cry." Jenna says comfortingly, rubbing my shoulder with her thumb as she rests her hand there.

I look away again for a moment before meeting Jenna's gentle eyes. I open my mouth, no sound coming out as I try to decide my words before I speak. "It's just you're so nice. Most people either just let me speak, but are clearly disinterested or just flat out call me annoying."

Jenna's eyes are laced with empathy as she looks into my eyes like windows.

I sniffle before speaking again, fanning my face for moment. "And you just seem so interested and intrigued in what I'm talking about, and it just means so much and- I don't know."

She continues to rub my arm. There was a moment of silence, the only noise being my soft sobs until Jenna spoke. "I loved seeing the excitement and passion you have about y/f/m. You should talk to me more about it some time." She says with a smile.

I nod. "Yeah, I'd like that." A sniffle interrupts the middle of my sentence.

"I should probably try to calm down, I don't really want to go back outside looking like this." I motion my hands over my face, addressing my puffy eyes and tear streaked face.

Jenna breaks eye contact for a moment, finding the tv before meeting my gaze again. "How about we watch something?"

I nod, she stands and quickly finds the remote. "Before we start watching something, do you need a hug? You're allowed to say no."

I love how considerate she is.

I nod, standing up. She holds her arms out, inviting me into her arms. I put my arms around her lower back and she wraps hers around my upper back, one hand resting on the back of my head playing with my hair comfortingly. She holds me in her warm, gentle embrace for a moment before letting go.

She meets my face with a smile. "Feel better?"

I quickly nod with a smile on my face, happiness in my eyes.

"Do you have any comfort movies?" Jenna asks, finding her seat back on the couch.

I find my seat next to her. "I really like Studio Ghibli movies."

Jenna points the remote to the TV. "How about Spirited Away?"

"That sounds good to me." I say with a nod, looking at her one more time with a smile before we start the movie.

a/n: hii guys, hope you enjoyed my first Jenna fic. this was inspired by the tiktoks I've seen about the way Jenna looks at people. maybe if you guys behave you'll get a Jenna fic that has actual romance in it next.

[arc852]

Fault 1/3

Summary: It's been two days since the incident where Jimmy fell out of Joel's pocket and Joel is completely blaming himself for what happened. When Tango wants to hang out with Jimmy, Joel is just barely containing his anger and jealousy on top of everything else.

Warnings: self-blame, self-deprecation, anger, crying, breaking down, jealousy and arguing

Word Count: 4121

AO3 Link

Happy New Year everyone! I'm hopefully starting the year off right by posting a new fic within the bbbcau! This one takes place pretty much right after Not Just a Drunken Dream, so I hope you enjoy!

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 Joel found that it was still hard to pay attention to his classes.

 Two days ago, Jimmy had fallen from his pocket and had almost been crushed by the crowds of students going to and from class. He had then been picked up and they could only count themselves lucky that it was Tango of all people who had done so. Joel always tried not to think about what would happen if Jimmy fell into the wrong hands. But he did anyway and Jimmy had almost ended up dead or in the hands of someone who might not have treated him like a person.

 And it was all Joel’s fault.

 Joel could still remember the panic that shot through his whole body when he had stuck his hand in his pocket after sitting down in class, only to discover that Jimmy was no longer there. He had immediately left his class, pulled Grian out of his, and then had searched all over for Jimmy. Only for him to be returned to them by none other than Tango.

 Joel rested the back of his hands on his forehead and leaned against them with his elbows firmly on the table. He closed his eyes and let the professor’s voice wash over him. Though he was technically listening, he wasn’t retaining any of the words. Mind still wandering toward Jimmy.

 He had been so stupid. Why hadn’t he kept his hand in the pocket with Jimmy? He usually did, why was that time any different? He should have been more careful. Who cares if he was late to class? He should have been walking slower and paying more attention to his surroundings. Instead, he had rammed into somebody with enough force to knock Jimmy out of his pocket.

 So so stupid.

 He was vaguely aware of someone taking the seat next to him, which was weird because the class had been going on for at least a half hour now. He kept his head down though, not looking until he heard a familiar voice psst at him.

 “Psst! Joel.” The voice whispered and Joel finally looked over to see Tango sitting there. Joel blinked, having forgotten that Tango was even in this class with him.

 “Hey, do you have Jimmy with you?” Tango asked, still whispering. Though even his whispers seemed too loud to Joel. His eyes widened and he looked around to make sure no one was paying attention. No one was, of course, but Joel was extra paranoid after what had happened two days ago.

 “Shhh!” Joel shushed Tango, who looked surprised at that. “You can’t just mention him like that!” Joel whispered back to him in a bit of a harsher tone.

 “Wha- I’m being quiet!” Tango said, his whisper getting just a tiny bit louder. “I just wanted to know.”

 Joel knew he wasn’t being very fair towards Tango but currently the man was only bringing up unwanted memories. That he had already been thinking about anyway. Joel sighed. “No, he’s not. It’s probably going to be a while before he comes to class with us again.” And even longer before it would be with Joel. 

 “Oh.” Tango wilted a bit but perked back up a moment later. “Well, is it okay if I see him after class?” Tango asked with a smile and Joel just looked at him.

 Joel narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

 Tango blinked, A bit taken aback by the hostility he was feeling from Joel. “I uh…I mean, I thought we could hang out? Properly this time, ya know?” Tango said, a bit hesitant now as he rubbed the back of his neck. 

 Joel was trying very hard to hold himself back from saying no just straight up. He was still on edge after what happened two days ago and even though he knew Tango, knew him to be kind, Joel was loath to have any other humans around Jimmy right now.

 He took a deep breath, knowing that ultimately, it wasn’t his decision. It was Jimmy’s. But even still, Joel knew Jimmy was also still a bit off from two days ago. The borrower was taking it easy right now and so Joel was confident that Jimmy would turn Tango away. The thought made him feel a bit better and so he finally turned to answer Tango. “I’ll have to ask him if he’s up for that right now.” Joel said, keeping his voice low and monotone. Despite his tone though, Tango grinned and looked excited.

 “Right, right! Of course.” Tango said and then leaned back in his chair to focus back on the teacher. Joel scoffed silently to himself and rolled his eyes, placing a hand on his cheek and leaning on it. If he honestly expected Jimmy to say yes right now, after what had just happened, then Tango was a bigger idiot than he was.

 The next half hour went by incredibly slowly, all things considered, especially as all Joel could pay attention to was Tango beside him. He could feel the excitement rolling off the engineering major in waves and it was honestly annoying Joel more than he was willing to admit.

 Once class was over, Joel closed his laptop without saving and shoved it into his bag. It wasn’t like he took any notes anyway. He had little to no idea what they had just learned about for the last hour but it was fine. He could just get notes off of somebody else. His eyes wandered over to Tango at that thought but he pushed it down for now. He zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

 Tango gave him a smile as he waited for him before starting to head out of the classroom. Joel followed him out and they paused outside of the door. “Can we head back to your dorm now, or did you have another class?” Tango asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet in barely hidden eagerness. Joel was now half wishing he did but he shook his head.

 “No, we can head there now. I guess.” Joel said and started walking first. Tango was quick to follow, not at all put off by Joel’s attitude. 

 They didn’t speak much on their way over to the dorm building. Joel felt awkward for reasons he couldn’t explain. Tango was his friend after all. Even if Joel was currently giving him a bit of the cold shoulder. Joel was happy to break the silence once they actually made it to his dorm door. “I’ll go ask him but you gotta stay here. I don’t want to overwhelm or scare Jimmy by having a human that he wasn’t expecting come in.”

 “Right, right, of course.” Tango said. The patient but eager grin on his face made Joel’s blood boil.

 “Be right back.” Joel snapped and then opened the door, but only enough for him to slip through. He didn’t want Jimmy catching a glimpse at Tango from the outside after all. He looked around, realizing Grian wasn’t there, which meant he was probably still in class. Scanning the room a bit more, he saw Jimmy on his bed with what must have been Grian’s phone. He was stomach down facing the phone, although his head had turned once he heard the door open.

 “Hey Joel!” Jimmy exclaimed in greeting, sitting up from his position and turning his body to face Joel. Whatever was on the phone had been paused. “How was class?”

 Joel came closer, setting his bag on the back of his chair before going back around his bed. “It was fine.” Joel lied, not wanting to get into the fact he had barely paid attention to the class at all. Gosh he was tired. All he wanted was to lay in bed and hold Jimmy close. At least here in the room he knew for sure nothing bad could happen to Jimmy. 

 But Tango was still waiting outside, so he at least had to ask Jimmy to get this over with and make that a reality. 

 “By the way, Tango is waiting outside. He was wondering if you wanted to hang out with him. I already figured you wouldn’t be feeling up for it though so I can just go ahead and tell him-” Joel was cut off as Jimmy stood fully up on the bed.

 “Wait, Tango is here? Of course I want to hang out with him! Send him in!” Jimmy said, a grin on his face, his eyes wide with excitement. 

 Joel felt his entire body deflate as he simply looked at Jimmy. “...Are you sure? Because after what happened-”

 “I’m sure, Joel. I’m fine, I promise.” Jimmy said and Joel searched his eyes for any hint that he was lying. He wasn’t.

 “Right. Um, okay.” His voice felt thick for no good reason and he blinked more to try and keep the water from his eyes. What the hell was wrong with him? “I’ll go tell him then.” He turned almost numbly and headed toward the door, opening it to reveal that Tango was still there and waiting patiently. He gave Joel a smile though it faltered slightly when he saw his expression.

 “Tango!” Jimmy cried out from behind him and it was just loud enough for Tango to hear. His expression shifted back into the grin from before.

 “Jimmy, hey!” Tango exclaimed back, looking past Joel to be able to see Jimmy on the bed. Joel shifted a bit awkwardly and moved out of the way to let Tango come in.

 “Come on in. Jimmy, uh, said okay to hanging out. As I’m sure you figured out.” Joel said and no one seemed to notice his pained tone or expression as Tango came in and walked right over to Jimmy. Joel was quick to close the door behind Tango, not wanting someone randomly walking by and seeing Jimmy.

 He stayed a good bit away behind Tango, just standing there as he watched Tango crouch down so Jimmy didn’t have to crane his neck so much. “How have you been?” Tango asked and Joel noticed that Tango was at least keeping his hands to himself. “Joel told me you aren’t really going to class with them anymore.”

 “I’ve been good, but yeah, it might be a bit before I’m comfortable going back to class with them again.” Jimmy said with a slight laugh, his hand going behind him to rub at his neck. Joel found himself wincing at that, crossing his arms in a way to both hide and hug himself.

 He was the reason Jimmy didn’t feel safe going out with them to class anymore. This was all his fault.

 “Well, do you feel comfortable enough coming back to my dorm with me to hang out?” Tango said, which startled Joel out of his own self-blame. He all but jumped to Tango’s side, looking at him with wide eyes.

 “Wait, what?” Joel said, not trying to hide the shock in his tone.

 Jimmy, for his part, also looked surprised but not with the same kind of dread that Joel was feeling. “To your dorm?”

 “Yeah.” Tango looked a bit sheepish now. “I mean, I figured we could have some lunch. Properly hang out and get to know each other, ya know?” Tango explained before continuing a moment later. “Oh, and don’t worry about Impulse. He’s got a full day of classes ahead of him. He won’t be back for a few more hours at least.”

 Joel had to say something. “I don’t think-”

 “That does sound like fun.” Jimmy said with a smile and a certain spark in his eyes that Joel had only seen when Jimmy was really excited about something. Joel could feel his body deflate once again, the pit in his stomach growing even more.

 Jimmy then did something that Joel hadn’t been expecting, and that was turning to look at him with his head slightly tilted. “Is that okay with you, Joel?”

 Joel could feel his cheeks heat up and from his peripheral, because he refused to take his eyes off Jimmy right now, he could see Tango looking back and forth between them with a certain look on his face. Joel was suddenly reminded that Tango had been the one to remind them that Jimmy was the one who should have the ultimate decision in whatever he did. Which Joel did agree wholeheartedly with, even if it was hard to do sometimes.

 But the fact that Jimmy was asking him now, about this, felt…well, Joel wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he really wanted to say no. He wanted to pick Jimmy up and hold him close, hold him away from Tango and just be. He wanted to scream at Tango to go away, he wanted to cry angrily into his pillow, he wanted to have not messed up-

 But Tango had been the one to right his wrong, in the end. Had been the one who ended up saving and protecting Jimmy. The thing that Joel failed at. Maybe…maybe Tango deserved Jimmy’s time more than Joel did.

 So Joel turned his head away, feigning disinterest. He’s not sure how much he succeeded though. “Why are you asking me? You can do what you want.” Joel said, his tone a bit sharper than he had intended.

 Thankfully, or maybe not, Joel wasn’t really sure at this point, but no one noticed. Jimmy just blinked and then grinned as he turned back to Tango. “I guess I can.” Jimmy chuckled a bit to himself. “Yes, Tango, I would love to have lunch with you.”

 Tango grinned back. “Great!” He said excitedly. He then paused and looked a bit awkward all of a sudden. “Um, how uh, how did you want to do this then?” Tango asked and Jimmy laughed a bit.

 Joel was back to crossing his arms, maybe a bit tighter than one would normally, and he looked away from the playful awkwardness of Tango getting used to picking Jimmy up. Although, if his peripheral vision was anything to go off of, Tango didn’t exactly pick Jimmy up but held out his hand for him. Jimmy climbed on with what at least appeared to be no hesitation. Joel stopped looking through his peripheral.

 He only turned back when Tango addressed him. ���Don’t worry Joel, I’ll have him back before dinner.” He said with a chuckle, playfully acting like he was taking Jimmy on a date and Joel was Jimmy’s father. At least, that’s what Tango’s line and delivery reminded Joel of.

 “You better.” Joel mumbled, trying not to stare at Tango too intensely. He was probably failing though, so he let his eyes wander down to Jimmy.

 “I’ll see you later Joel!” Jimmy said and Joel nodded, hoping Jimmy didn’t notice how fast and often he was blinking.

 “See you later.” Joel said. “Be safe.” He said a bit quieter, though did he actually know what that meant? He thought his pocket had been safe after all. He thought Jimmy had been safe with him.

 Joel could barely watch as Tango left with Jimmy, but he did. He watched as Tango held Jimmy close to his chest, cupping his free hand over in front of him in order to hide him in case there were any people wandering around the halls. Joel followed them to the door, numbly helping Tango open it, since his hands were full with Jimmy. It took him a while to actually close the door, not doing so until Tango had turned the corner far down the hall.

 The door closed with a click and it was suddenly all too quiet.

 Joel went and sat down on his bed and just…stared. His hands gripped at the fabric of his pants and he glared down at the floor.

 He didn’t exactly mean to stay like that but before he knew it, the door was opening again and Grian walked into the room. Grian paused as he noticed Joel’s position and looked at him in confusion. “Joel? Everything okay?”

 “Fine.” Joel said, his tone sharp and quick. Grian didn’t look convinced but then again, Joel wasn’t really trying to hide his feelings anymore. Grian looked around, noticing someone seemed missing.

 “Where’s Jimmy?” Grian asked and the question alone had Joel tightening his hold on the fabric of his jeans. He grit his teeth and took a deep breath. It did little to calm him though.

 “With Tango.” Joel practically spat out. Grian looked taken aback for a moment, blinking in surprise.

 “Tango?” Grian asked, ignoring, for a moment, Joel’s tone.

 Joel let out a shaky huff of breath. “Tango came up to me in class and asked if he could hang out with Jimmy. I said he’d have to ask Jimmy himself. So he came over.” Joel let his eyes fall away from Grian’s and back onto the floor. “I really thought Jimmy would say no.” Joel said a bit quieter.

 Grian raised an eyebrow at him. “You thought he would say no? Is that why you’re being like…this?” He motioned toward all of Joel and Joel lifted his head to scowl at him. Grian didn’t back down from it though, simply crossed his arms and looked at Joel with that stupid knowing look Joel hated.

 “Like what, Grian? Not sure I know what you mean?” His voice went high but his glare stayed true, daring Grian to continue.

 “Come on, you can’t admit that you’re jealous?” Grian said and that had Joel absolutely fuming. He stood up faster than even he had been expecting and got into Grian’s face. The fact that Grian appeared unaffected by this just made Joel even angrier.

 “I’m not jealous. Jimmy can do whatever the bloomin’ hell he wants! Tango probably deserves him more than me anyway!” Joel shouted, fuming. He hadn’t even realized what he actually said until he saw Grian’s knowing look drop and his eyes go wide.

 “Joel…”

 “Shut up! Shut up!” Joel yelled, backing up a step to get himself out of Grian’s face. He didn’t want to hear it.

 “Joel, it wasn’t-” Grian tried but Joel cut him off.

 “Oh, it wasn’t my fault? Is that what you were going to say? God, shut the bloody hell up, Grian. Of course it was my fault!” Joel yelled, moving one hand to pull at the hairs on his scalp before throwing both hands in the air and leaning more toward Grian. Not quite getting in his face like before, but close all the same. Joel felt a tinge of satisfaction as Grian backed up a step. “Jimmy almost died because of me! He almost got found by someone who could have taken advantage of him! The only reason he’s here is because of Tango!”

 Joel was breathing really heavy now, his eyes combating against the water trying to spill from them. He gripped at his hair again. “Of course Jimmy would choose Tango over me, of course-”

 “Joel!” Grian shouted, his hands on Joel’s shoulders as he shook him out of his spiral. Joel jolted a bit, looking at Grian with wide, manic eyes. Despite that, Grian held his gaze. “Calm down.” Grian’s words were firm but no less gentle, trying to ease his friend out of his self-hatred and panic.

 “You don’t get it. I can’t keep Jimmy safe! First he gets stuck in that glue trap under my watch and now this. I-I can’t be trusted with him! No wonder he’d rather hang out with Tango than-”

 “Joel, stop!” Grian yelled, his grip tightening on Joel’s shoulders. Joel finally paused at the almost desperate tone Grian’s voice had taken.  

 “But-”

 “Just…stop.” Grian said, cutting Joel off and not letting him speak himself into any more circles. He was still holding on tight to Joel’s shoulders. “Breathe, Joel.”

 After a few shaky breaths, Joel managed to take in a deep one. But as he let it out, his tears, which he had been holding back this whole time, finally started to fall. He grit his teeth as he couldn’t stop them from raining down his cheeks. Grian’s eyes went soft. “Oh Joel…” Grian pulled at his shoulders and suddenly he was in Grian’s space again, but this time with Grian’s arms wrapped around his body. Grian was hugging him.

 Joel hugged him back and buried his face into Grian’s shoulder. Not caring that he was probably making a complete mess of Grian’s shirt. “It wasn’t your fault Joel.”

 Joel hiccuped. “But-”

 “Nope. None of that now. It wasn’t your fault. It was an accident. A mistake. If Jimmy had been in my pocket the same thing could have happened.” Grian said, words firm and sturdy. And Joel suddenly felt too tired to argue with them. So he just sniffed.

 “And Jimmy isn’t choosing you over anybody. Especially not Tango. He’s your friend. Our friend. And no matter who he ends up hanging out with, he’ll always come back home to us.” Grian continued. Joel wasn’t sure how he could say that with such confidence. Even though it had been months at this point, Joel still worried about messing up enough where Jimmy left for good. But here Grian was, confident that Jimmy would always come back.

 It was quiet for a moment as Grian let his words sink in. When Joel didn’t make any move to speak, Grian decided to continue. “Why did you think Jimmy would say no to hanging out with Tango?” Grian asked, bringing back up what Joel had said earlier.

 Joel tensed, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly and pushed Grian away. Not roughly, but enough to let Grian know he was done with the hug. Grian offered no resistance and let Joel go and Joel took another step back for good measure, looking away.

 “I just thought…after everything that happened two days ago I figured Jimmy wouldn’t want to go anywhere for a while. Let alone talk to, and hang out with, a human he barely knows.” Joel let out a sigh, rubbing at his eyes and cheeks to get his tears cleaned up. “But instead he practically jumped at the chance and…I don’t know. It felt bad.”

 Grian hummed, listening intently. “I don’t think I was exactly wrong before. I do think there is a bit of jealousy seeping through everything else you're dealing with.” Grian stated, though this time it wasn’t said in a joking or teasing manner. Joel still didn’t like being called jealous but it was better than before. “You feeling bad is probably a mix of that jealousy and you thinking you don’t deserve Jimmy anymore. His acceptance of Tango’s request to hang out probably, subconsciously, affirmed your fears.”

 Joel sniffed again. “When did you become a bloomin’ psychology major?”

 Grian’s lips twitched up slightly. “Biology and psychology are just two sides of the same coin.” Grian said before letting his small smile ease off again. “Look, it’s not like I also really like the fact that Jimmy’s off hanging with Tango. Especially with what happened two days ago. I want to keep him close and safe as much as you do. But, he’s also his own person, and when it comes down to it I do trust him and Tango to be safe. Jimmy is just…excited to have a new friend.”

 “Right…” Joel said, though he didn’t look entirely convinced.

 Grian sighed. “Okay, obviously you aren’t going to take my world for it. You need to talk to Jimmy about this.”

 Joel tensed up again. “I can’t talk to Jimmy! He’ll…then he’ll know and…” Honestly, Joel’s brain was struggling to come up with a reason to not talk to Jimmy other than he really didn’t want to.

 “You’re not going to feel better until you talk to Jimmy.” Grian said as he patted Joel on the shoulder. “And I will lock you two in the room if you don’t.”

 Joel sighed but gave a little nod. He wasn’t looking forward to the talk but he knew Grian was right. He needed to tell Jimmy how he felt and talk about everything.

 Joel still believed it was his fault, it was hard not to when he looked back on everything he could have done better to prevent it, but he would talk to Jimmy all the same. He watched as Grian took his laptop out of his bag and sat at his desk. Joel hesitated before doing the same. At least he could try and get some homework done to distract him until Jimmy came back home.

 Joel tried to push down the dread he felt in his gut as he started to type away at his laptop.

[amuseintime]

Shattering Realization (Pt 2)

Star Souls AU

After Siffrin is rendered comatose, well, they have to keep his apparently not human form somewhere… So why not their tent? Isabeau can be normal about this, surely… (he cannot)

<< PREV || NEXT >>

Isabeau tried to settle into his and Siffrin’s tent once night came, he really did! But it was easier said than done, especially with so much to think about.

Funny how something that had become as mundane as a Sadness attack could throw everything into chaos! Bonnie was taking it the worst of all of them, not at all helped that no one had answers. What was Siffrin? Would he be okay? When was he going to start moving again? Was he going to start moving again? Why didn’t he have a pulse? Did that mean he was dead? Had he ever been alive? All great questions that no one had answers for. The best anyone could think to do was try to keep them from looking at…

The body? The doll? Siffrin? No one could quite decide how to refer to the still and silent form that usually housed their friend.

Odile wanted to inspect it, but she conceded to waiting until Siffrin could consent. Whether he ended up having anything to look at or was literally built like a child’s doll, whether he was aware and unable to respond or completely unconscious, it was still messed up to strip someone and look at their body when they couldn’t say no—at least outside of medical emergencies, but even if this counted as one, they had no idea what they were doing so that was senseless.

Mirabelle seemed to be taking it the best, shockingly? Apparently she loved books like this! Which was great! At least one of them should be able to help, and he’s glad that someone actually held Siffrin’s hand as… whatever happened to him happened.

Isabeau still didn’t really understand. The best he could do was stop Bonnie and Odile from staring and obsessing over Siffrin’s form…

And now, as he rolled over to look at the little body tucked into a sleeping bag, he couldn’t help but feel like a hypocrite. Why did he ever think this was a good idea? Was this even okay? Sure, they did it every night, and it wasn’t like he was doing anything—they weren’t even sharing a sleeping bag! But it still felt weirdly violating. His hands still felt cold from tucking Siffrin in, from having to be ever-so-careful with joints that suddenly seemed so fragile and arms make of something more brittle than flesh. The idea of accidentally breaking him was terrifying—what if that pushed him over some unseen edge and he couldn’t fix it this time? Could Siffrin spill out of himself like pouring water from a glass?—but what was worse was just…

Doing it.

Moving Siffrin’s body for him. Forcing it to bend and pose, even if it was just to keep him safe and, hopefully, comfortable.

Even worse, he could imagine an appeal to it, in another context. What little bits he saw of Siffrin’s body were inhumanly pretty. Pearly, smooth not-skin, slender proportions, an impressive amount of articulation with joints that Isabeau, at least, found strangely appealing, and even without the subtle glow his hair usually had, it was so soft. He understood why Siffrin would feel a need to hide it, but it seemed a shame…

His stomach curled and he turned away. There was something wrong with him, admiring the craftsmanship while Siffrin was unconscious because he got his head shattered.

Any growing heat in him was quashed. That was for the best.

…

What was he even doing? Should he be in here? Or would it be weirder to leave him? How many times had they shared a tent or been back to back on a bed with no more than a pillow or some sheets between them—Siffrin didn’t like being touched, another thing to make this situation worse. He was basically just sleeping, right? Hopefully? This shouldn’t have been any weirder than every other time they shared a tent, but…

“… hey. Sif. Siffrin. Sifarooni? Um… I don’t know if you can hear me at all, or if you’re awake or asleep. Do you sleep? Or have you just been pretending this whole time? I, uh… hope not. That’d get really boring…”

What was he even doing?

“But, uh… I hope you didn’t mind me tucking you in. I just want you to be comfortable, and we couldn’t just leave you kneeling in the field! So I hope? This is? Okay?”

…

“Sorry. I’m being weird. And, uh, I know you can’t really talk back right now. If you can hear me. At all???”

He shifted back over to look at them, to stare at the back of their head. Even in the dark of night, he could make out the darkless shades, though not half as well as usual.

“… Sorry. I’m being weird. Don’t worry about it. Just know that I still care, okay?” He paused, then sighed. There’d be no answers tonight. “Sleep well, Siffrin. See you in the morning, hopefully.”

———

I prefer tea, but buy me a Kofi?

[the-winter-spider]

The Alchemy | Part 3

NFL!Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Abuse, toxic relationships, angst

A/N: Oof this ones long but i wanted to set some shizzzzz up

Masterpost (its coming)

----

It had been a surreal moment when the email came through—the offer to join the NFL team’s media crew. Your chest had been tight with excitement, your heart hammering as you reread the words, over and over, just to make sure they were real. It felt too good to be true, the kind of dream you almost didn’t let yourself have.

You were still staring at the screen when John walked into the room, his phone in hand and a smug grin already spreading across his face.

“Well?” he asked, his voice warm but expectant. “Did they call you yet? I told my buddy I’d have to pull some strings to get them to notice you, but it looks like they finally came through.”

His words hit you like a splash of ice water, the initial glow of excitement dimming as confusion crept in.

“You…what?” you asked softly, your smile faltering.

John leaned casually against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “Yeah, my friend from Penn State—you know, the one who knows the guy on their PR team? I mentioned your name to him a while back. Just put in a good word.” He smirked, like he’d just handed you the world on a silver platter.

“John,” you said slowly, trying to keep your tone steady. “I didn’t ask you to do that. I applied for this on my own.”

“And you think they just magically found your resume at the top of the pile?” he countered, the edge in his tone faint but unmistakable. “Come on, babe. You’re good, but the competition is insane. It doesn’t hurt to have someone looking out for you.”

Your stomach churned, his words pressing down on the excitement you’d been riding just moments ago. This was supposed to be your accomplishment, something you’d earned through hard work and determination. Now, you weren’t so sure if it was entirely yours.

“I didn’t need—”

“You’re welcome,” he interrupted, his voice teasing, though there was a sharpness in his eyes that made it clear he didn’t want to hear any protests.

“John,” you started again, your voice firmer this time, but he waved you off as he crossed the room.

“Relax, honey,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “It’s not a big deal. I just made a call. The rest? That was all you.”

You nodded hesitantly, but the knot in your chest didn’t loosen. “I…guess I should say thank you?”

“There you go,” he said with a grin, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

The glow of that moment never fully returned.

You sat at the kitchen table days later, scrolling through emails from the team’s PR office, trying to focus on the logistics of your first assignment. You were determined to prove you deserved the role, to make it your own. But no matter how hard you tried, John’s words lingered, casting a shadow over every small victory.

John walked in, a beer in hand, and plopped down in the chair across from you. “How’s the new star employee doing?” he teased, leaning back and kicking his feet up onto the chair beside him.

“Just going over schedules,” you replied, keeping your tone neutral.

He nodded, taking a sip of his beer before setting it down with a smirk. “You’re lucky, you know,” he said, his voice light but carrying an undertone you couldn’t quite place.

“Lucky?” you asked, glancing up from your laptop.

“Yeah,” he said, gesturing vaguely at your computer. “I mean, if I hadn’t made that call, who knows where you’d be right now? Probably still stuck doing boring university media.”

Your stomach twisted, the words cutting deeper than they should have. “I thought you said it was all me,” you said quietly, forcing your voice to stay calm.

“It was,” he said with a shrug. “Mostly. But let’s not pretend like having connections doesn’t help. That’s just how the world works, babe. You know that.”

Your jaw tightened as you bit the inside of your cheek. “I could’ve gotten this on my own.”

“Maybe,” he said, tilting his head and smirking wider. “But you didn’t have to, thanks to me.”

The casual arrogance in his tone made your chest ache. Before you could respond, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“Anyway,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, “you better not forget who helped you get here. Wouldn’t want to lose the job, right?”

You froze, your breath catching. He laughed, the sound sharp and hollow, like he was trying to pass it off as a joke. But the glint in his eyes told you otherwise.

“John,” you said softly, your voice trembling slightly. “That’s not funny.”

He waved a hand, leaning back again. “Oh, come on babe. I’m kidding.” His smile returned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Relax, sweets. You know I’d never actually do that. You and me? We’re a team.”

The words were meant to soothe, but they wrapped around you like a vice, tightening with every syllable.

“I wouldn’t,” you said quietly, your hands curling into fists beneath the table. “I wouldn’t do anything to mess this up.”

“Good,” he said, flashing you a grin that felt more like a warning. “Because we’ve worked hard to get you here, babe. And I’d hate for you to throw it all away.”

The conversation shifted after that, moving on to something mundane, but his words lingered long after he’d walked away.

You stared at your laptop, the emails blurring together as the knot in your chest grew tighter. He was good at this—at making you question yourself, at twisting things just enough to make you doubt whether your accomplishments were really your own.

And now, as you prepared to step into the biggest opportunity of your life, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t entirely yours. That John had claimed a piece of it, slipping his name onto something that should’ve been yours alone.

Something you’d never be able to take back.

----

The jet touched down smoothly, but your nerves only sharpened with each bump and roll as the plane taxied to a stop. The rumble of the engines seemed quieter compared to the relentless buzzing in your hoodie pocket. You knew it was him—John. His texts had been coming in rapid-fire, each one another twist of the tension already coiled in your chest. You hadn’t dared look at the screen since earlier, when Bucky had quietly commented on how distracted you seemed.

The memory of his gaze lingered, heavy and unrelenting, like he’d peeled back the years and seen the cracks you thought you’d hidden. You’d done so much to build walls around yourself after leaving him behind in high school, but the way he’d looked at you—soft, questioning, but sharp enough to cut—it made you feel exposed in ways you hadn’t prepared for.

When the captain announced you could disembark, you moved quickly, unbuckling your seatbelt and grabbing for the bag beneath your seat. The urge to get off the plane, to find some air that didn’t feel so stifling, burned bright. But before you could reach for the overhead compartment, Bucky was already there, pulling your bag down with a practiced ease that left you feeling both grateful and annoyed.

“You don’t have to—” you started, but he cut you off with a shake of his head.

“I’ve got it,” he said, his tone quiet but firm, leaving no room for argument.

You sighed, falling into step behind him as the team gathered near the exit. The energy around you was light, buzzing with camaraderie. Sam was cracking jokes about the upcoming game, and Steve laughed, shoving him playfully. Even the quieter guys seemed at ease, smiling and leaning into the banter.

You should’ve been comforted by the energy, but it only made you feel more out of place. Like you were carrying something too heavy, something that didn’t belong in the warm glow of their camaraderie.

As you reached the top of the stairs, Bucky lingered, waiting just ahead. His expression was unreadable, but the way he looked at you—like he was searching for something—made your heart stutter.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low enough that it wouldn’t carry to the others.

“I’m fine,” you replied, but the words came too quickly, too mechanically. They didn’t even convince you, let alone him.

He held your gaze for a beat longer than felt comfortable before nodding once. He didn’t push, and that restraint—his patience—only made the knot in your chest tighten further. He turned and started down the stairs, and you followed, your stomach churning with every step.

The tarmac was a flurry of movement. Luggage was being unloaded, staff were coordinating check-ins, and reporters snapped photos from behind a security line. You kept to the edges, clutching your camera bag tightly like it could anchor you.

In the lobby, the buzz of your phone returned, the vibration digging into your ribs like a taunt. You hesitated for a moment before pulling it out, your fingers shaking slightly as you unlocked the screen.

The texts filled the screen in a relentless barrage:

“Ignored me again? Guess I know where I stand.”

“Why are you even with me if you don’t care enough to answer?”

“Bet you’re too busy with all those NFL guys, huh? Think you’re too good for me now?”

"We're a team. Don't forget it, Id hate for you to lose what you just got."

Your breath hitched, the words blurring together as your chest tightened. The knot that had been forming since the plane ride twisted harder, stealing the air from your lungs. You started typing a response, but your hands shook so badly that the letters blurred into nonsense.

“You’re doing it again.”

The voice startled you, and your phone slipped from your hand, landing with a muted thud against your thigh. You looked up quickly, your wide eyes meeting Bucky’s. He was standing too close, his arms crossed over his chest, his brow furrowed in that way that made you feel like he was peering right through you.

“Doing what?” you asked, forcing your voice into something steadier than the trembling mess you felt inside.

“Looking like the world’s about to collapse on you,” he said, his words clipped but not unkind. His gaze searched yours, his blue eyes narrowing like they always did when he thought you were lying.

“It’s nothing,” you lied, the words brittle and hollow in your mouth. “Just work stuff, that's all.” You brushed him off. “The first couple weeks are always a bit rocky.” Offering a small smile.

He didn’t buy it. His jaw ticked, and his arms dropped to his sides as he took a step closer. For a moment, you thought he might press, that he might push through the space you’d so carefully constructed between you. But then Steve’s voice cut through the tension, calling Bucky from across the lobby.

Bucky turned, glancing over his shoulder at Steve before his gaze flickered back to you. His expression was a mixture of frustration and concern, his brow furrowed like he wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words. The weight of it all hung heavily between you.

“I would like to catch up with you later, after we get settled if that's okay?,” he said quietly, the hope in his tone as undeniable as the knot tightening in your chest. You nodded in agreement.

And then he was gone, his broad shoulders retreating as he walked toward Steve and the rest of the team, leaving you rooted in place. Your phone buzzed again in your pocket, a relentless reminder of everything you’d been trying—and failing—to hold together.

You felt like you were folding in on yourself, the layers of your life pressed so tightly together it was hard to breathe. Bucky had been your shoulder once. For years, he’d been your steady place, the one person who could make you feel like the chaos of the world wasn’t going to swallow you whole. He was your best friend, the only constant you’d had after your mom started working longer hours and your dad’s drinking got worse..

And then you moved.

And that friendship was left behind, he didn't try to contact you again—not with a phone call, not with a text. It was like he’d disappeared entirely, leaving a gaping hole where he’d once been. You’d told yourself you were fine, that you didn’t need him, but the truth was that losing Bucky felt like losing part of yourself.

You thought you’d found that missing piece in John. At first, he’d been your saving grace, swooping in during the darkest time of your life, when your mom passed and the ground beneath you crumbled. John had been the one to keep you steady, to tell you to get up when you didn’t think you could. He was the one who’d pushed you to apply for this job, who told you that you were better than you thought, stronger than you believed.

For a while, he was everything.

But the last few years had shifted something. There were good days, amazing days even—days where it felt like you could conquer the world with him by your side. And then there were the others. The ones that reminded you too much of your dad, the drinking, the biting words, the feeling of walking on eggshells around someone you weren’t sure you could trust anymore.

You knew you should leave. It wasn’t that simple, though, was it? Because without John, you wouldn’t have this job. And without this job, you weren’t sure what you’d have left. You weren’t sure there was anything else keeping you together. Maybe you’d tied yourself too tightly to him, just like you’d tied yourself too tightly to Bucky all those years ago.

When Bucky stopped being your friend, you’d lost a huge part of yourself. And when your mom died, another part had evaporated entirely. What was left—the only thing holding you together—was this job.

The one you got because of John.

If you lost him, what would be left of you then?

By the time you got to your room, your limbs felt heavy, like every step had drained you of what little energy you had left. The texts hadn’t stopped. The buzzing had morphed into phone calls now, the shrill vibration rattling against your pocket like a storm you couldn’t escape. You silenced the phone, tossed it onto the nightstand, and stared at it, half-expecting it to burst into flames.

You wanted to call someone. To vent. But who?

Your coworkers didn’t know you well enough. You’d only ever shown them your polished surface, the carefully constructed excuses that kept them from looking too closely.

And then there was Bucky.

You sat on the edge of the bed, your head in your hands as your mind drifted back to high school. To him. To the way he’d always been there, always trying to protect you, even when you didn’t want him to. Bucky had this way of seeing through you, of pulling truths out of you that you didn’t even realize you were hiding.

But this wasn’t high school anymore.

You weren’t sure how to let him in now—not when the walls you’d built were so much higher, so much thicker. The last time you let him in, he got in so deep it felt like he was a part of you. But when you moved, he let go. It was so easy for him to leave, to let the distance become more than physical.

What if it was easy for him again?

What if you let him back in, only for the season to end? What would happen when you got assigned to another team, when you left again? Would he let go, just like before?

The thought made your chest ache, a hollow, twisting pain you couldn’t quite name. You glanced at your phone, still silent on the nightstand, and felt the weight of your choices pressing down on you.

You wanted to talk to him. You wanted to hear him say it wasn’t easy for him, that he hadn’t meant to let go back then, that he wouldn’t let go now.

But the words caught in your throat.

So you sat there, alone, staring at the phone like it held all the answers you couldn’t bring yourself to find.

A knock on the door broke through your thoughts. You hesitated, your pulse quickening. Another knock followed, this one firmer.

“Y/N? It’s me.”

Bucky.

You let out a shaky breath, crossing the room to open the door. He stood there, still in his travel clothes, his jacket slung over one shoulder. His expression softened when he saw you, but his eyes still held that quiet intensity that always made you feel like he could see right through you.

“Can I come in?” he asked, his voice low.

You nodded, stepping aside to let him in.

He glanced around the room briefly before turning to face you, his hands in his pockets as if he was trying to shrink away like he wasn’t a 6 foot tall football player “I was just wondering if you wanted to go catch up now? Maybe get dinner?”

You stared at him for a moment, caught off guard by the question. Dinner? With Bucky? You weren’t sure if the nerves knotting in your stomach were from the idea of being alone with him or the lingering fear of what John would think if he found out.

“Dinner?” you echoed, trying to buy time as your mind raced.

Bucky nodded, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Yeah. Just the two of us. Is that okay?” His voice softened as if he was unsure of himself, something you weren’t used to hearing from him.

Your hesitation made him rush to fill the silence. “The other guys are going to this sports bar—uh, Corner Kick or something. But I thought maybe we could do something a little quieter.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze flickering to yours nervously. “I was thinking…Italian? I know it used to be your favorite. I should’ve asked first, but they have a private booth, and I figured we could just…you know…talk. Catch up.”

He rambled on, the words tumbling out in a way that reminded you of the Bucky you used to know—the one who could never quite stop his mouth from running when he was nervous. It made you smile despite yourself.

“Bucky,” you said gently, placing a hand on his arm to stop him. His eyes dropped to your hand before meeting yours again, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I’ll always love Italian.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up into a smile, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly. “It sounds perfect. I can’t believe you remembered.”

He opened his mouth to respond but seemed to think better of it. Instead, he stepped back and gestured toward the door. “Let’s go, then.”

When you reached the elevator, he pressed the button and then turned to you, his voice quiet but full of conviction. “I never forgot anything about you, Y/N. You were my best friend.”

The words hit you like a gut punch. Were. Past tense.

Your heart twisted at the way he said it, like he was mourning something that couldn’t be brought back. You forced a smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “You were mine, too,” you said softly.

The elevator dinged, and the moment passed as you stepped inside.

The streets blurred past in streaks of light as the taxi rolled through the city. You sat in the back seat beside Bucky, the silence between you thick with things left unsaid.

You fiddled with the hem of your dress, your thoughts drifting to John and the inevitable fallout if he found out about this. But this was Bucky. Bucky. The boy who used to sit with you on the roof for hours, who knew your favorite songs and your biggest fears.

It wasn’t just dinner. It was a chance to have him back in your life.

When Bucky opened the door for you at the restaurant, you stepped out into the cool evening air, your nerves momentarily eclipsed by the warm glow of the Italian bistro’s lights. The sign above the door read Giovanni’s, and the faint scent of garlic and fresh basil wafted out each time the door swung open.

Inside, the restaurant was cozy, with dim lighting and rustic wooden furniture. A hostess greeted you with a smile, and Bucky gave her his name before she led you to a secluded booth in the corner.

The booth was tucked away from the rest of the diners, dimly lit with flickering candlelight that made the intimate setting feel both comforting and a little suffocating. The hum of conversation and the clink of silverware in the background were distant enough to feel like white noise. Bucky slid into the seat across from you, his broad frame making the already small space seem even cozier, more personal.

He handed you a menu, but he didn’t seem to notice the words on it. His gaze lingered on you, his blue eyes soft yet searching, like he was trying to read the pieces of your life that had been scattered in his absence.

“So…” he started, his voice low and tentative. “You’re really okay with this?”

Your brow furrowed slightly as you glanced up at him, confused. “Dinner?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck, the movement awkward but endearing. “I mean…me. Showing up in your life again after all this time. After everything.”

His words carried a weight that hung heavily between you, the years of silence suddenly sharper than ever.

You hesitated, the truth hovering just behind your lips. Part of you wanted to say no—that you weren’t okay with the storm of emotions he’d stirred up simply by being here. That seeing him again brought back feelings you’d buried so deep you thought they’d disappeared. But the larger part of you—the part that remembered him sitting with you on rooftops and holding your hand when the world felt like too much—knew the answer.

“It’s been a long time, Bucky,” you said softly, meeting his gaze. “But…I’m glad you’re here.” You took a shaky breath, willing yourself to be brave. “I would never not want to have you be a part of my life.”

For a moment, his expression was unreadable, but then his shoulders relaxed. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, softening the lines of his face. “Me too,” he murmured.

As the evening went on, the tension began to ease, the conversation flowing more naturally than you expected. It felt…normal. Familiar, even. Like no time had passed since you’d last sat across from him.

You talked about high school, trading stories about old teachers and classmates. He laughed when you mentioned how Mr. Danvers, the gym teacher, used to yell at him for being “too showy” during dodgeball. And you rolled your eyes when he brought up the time you tripped onstage during the spring play, your face flushing even though it had been years.

When the food arrived, his grin widened as he saw your plate. “Pasta al pomodoro?” he teased, leaning back in his seat. “You’re still ordering that?”

“Don’t even start,” you shot back, laughing as you twirled a forkful of pasta. “At least I don’t eat half of someone else’s garlic bread on top of my own.”

“Hey,” he said, holding up his hands in mock defense. “That was a courtesy tax.”

“Courtesy tax?”

“You were a slow eater! I was helping!”

You laughed harder than you had in weeks, maybe months. It felt good. It felt easy. But beneath the surface, there was a quiet undercurrent—something heavier neither of you had said aloud. About how things were left, things you were both beating around the bush about.

As the plates were cleared and the candle burned lower, the conversation shifted. Bucky leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. His tone softened as he asked, “So…how’s your mom?”

You felt your stomach twist, the warmth of the evening giving way to a dull ache. “She, uh…she passed away two years ago,” you said quietly, forcing a sad smile.

His face fell, and he coughed, nearly choking on the sip of wine he’d just taken. “Oh my god...I’m so sorry to hear that,” he said, his voice thick with genuine remorse. “I had no idea.”

“It’s okay, Buck,” you said, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. “She had cancer. She fought so hard, but…it was a lot for her. When my father died the year before, it broke something in her. She loved him, even after everything. Getting me out of that house was her priority, but losing him…it was too much. She held on for a year, but after that…” You trailed off, the weight of the memories making your throat tighten.

Bucky looked speechless, his jaw tightening as he processed your words. “That must’ve been so hard for you,” he said softly. “I can’t imagine—God, doll, I—”

The word slipped out, unintentional and automatic, but it hit you like a bolt of lightning. Doll.

Your heart clenched, the familiarity of the nickname stirring something you weren’t ready to face. You blinked rapidly, forcing yourself to focus as he continued.

“It was,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “I was in my last year at NYU, and I wanted to drop out so many times. But John…he picked up the pieces. He pushed me to keep going.” You hesitated, swallowing hard. “He’s the one who helped me get a job doing media for Penn State after graduation. And then he helped me get this one.”

“John?” Bucky repeated, his tone careful but curious.

“My, uh…boyfriend,” you said quickly, glancing away.

The word felt heavy in the air, and you didn’t miss the way Bucky’s expression shifted. His jaw tightened, but he quickly masked it with a small nod.

“Right,” he said after a moment, leaning back in his seat. “Well, he sounds…supportive.”

“He is,” you said, though your voice lacked the conviction you wanted it to have.

Bucky didn’t say anything, but the silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was thick, weighted with things he wasn’t saying. And as much as you wanted to believe you could leave the past where it was, you could feel it creeping back into the space between you.

The waiter returned, breaking the tension as he offered dessert menus. Bucky glanced at you, his expression softening again as he gestured toward the menus.

“Dessert? Or should I get you an extra order of garlic bread instead?”

You laughed, grateful for the reprieve, but the heaviness in your chest didn’t fade. Even as the conversation shifted back to lighter topics, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this dinner had opened a door you weren’t sure you were ready to walk through.

And when Bucky reached across the table again, his fingers brushing against yours as he asked if you wanted another drink, you realized the door wasn’t just open.

It was waiting for you to step inside.

[qoldenskies]

i think its so funny when people take the way donnie acts at face value even though its a horrible lie because he's a horrible liar, while understanding leo is bullshitting very well despite him actually being GOOD at bullshitting. many such cases

[quietwingsinthesky]

Dean is such a paradox for me because on the one hand, I have been actively triggered by him in the show, there are moments where, intentionally or not, the writers managed to create a portrayal of manipulation and abuse and control issues that it sets off actual alarms for me. And on the other hand, I would not have him any other way. There is something — not comforting, that’s too soft a word — about knowing where Dean’s actions stem from, having seen and learned all that we do about his childhood neglect and parentification and the trauma he goes through repeatedly in the show, and that he doesn’t come out clean. He comes out a goddamn mess who ends up hurting the people around him in reaction to his own pain!

There’s a reality there that’s. Almost nice, actually. Distressing to watch, but it is a fucking mess, it’s a good mess! He’s got zero healthy coping skills and a healthy relationship with say, his brother, is terrifying because it leaves him open to abandonment!

I’m not sure I’m wording this correctly. There is a way to be a good abuse victim. Take the pain, martyr yourself on it, and then, even if you have no support or idea how to, then you have to become a Good Person who never hurts anyone the way you have been learning to your entire life. Simply toss everything that shaped you out the door and emerge a saint with a tragic backstory. And Dean is not that. And that’s so fucking good. Everything that he has gone through continues to effect the way he treats the people around him, and he can’t fight the behaviors he might recognize as harmful because he also sees them as protecting him (or protecting Sam by keeping Sam with him.)

And sometimes, idk. It feels good to see a guy who didn’t heal the “right way.” Who mostly didn’t heal at all, just keeps the wound open because it’s easier that way.

[seventh-district]

Sam: "Look at me. Hey- look at me a second. I know. I know you're tough. I know how strong you are. You have every right to be proud of that. But being able to handle somethin' doesn't mean you should have to. Least of all when I'm right here trying to help. Please let me help. If not for you then for me, because I don't like knowin' you're hurtin', especially when there's somethin' I can do about it."

Me, shaking my head, fighting back literal tears: "B-but it's gonna give you another headache!"

[superbat-lmao]

Bruce is off world and Cass snaps.

She cuts the feed to the cave, traps each of them in a separate holding cell, and truth serums them.

She is sick and tired of them lying to each other, lying to themselves.

Once and for all, she wants them to just talk to each other.

Jason is the easiest one to start talking, he’s been the only one talking about anything close to honest the whole time. Sure, usually it’s yelling about it on a rooftop but now it’s yelling about it in the cave. He fights talking about the good memories because they hurt more than the bad ones.

Damian has the fewest grievances. He hasn’t been around long enough to have years worth of issues, and most of it stems from the same problem.

Dick and Tim are actually the biggest problems.

Tim has the most to talk about. He’s angry with all of them. Jason and Damian are the most obvious, but he has just as many grievances with Dick if not more. They have all hurt him, not accepted him, rejected him. He isolates rather than talking to any of them about this because every time he objects to how he’s treated it’s like he’s breaking the family. He should be thankful Jason’s back at all or that Damian isn’t trying to kill him. If he says anything it sends them both into spirals that makes them avoid the family and then it’s his fault, so he leaves as much as he can.

Dick is the most brutal. They all look up to him, even if they don’t want to admit it. He proved it could be done. And every single one of them got a Bruce that already used him as a practice run of having kids. He is expected to handle it, to leash his anger, to be more open than Bruce. And he does it, but the level to which it’s a performance? Only Cass and Bruce have a real inkling to how much he’s acting. Jason saw more of it than he should have before he died, but even he wasn’t actually prepared for Dick’s honest thoughts on all of them.

Jason: Dick never wanted me here, Tim picked up the mantle as though nothing had changed, and Damian is the most judgmental and least experienced. I no longer have the innocence I did as Robin because the world has proven that morality doesn’t protect you. I cannot give up my ideologies for emotional vulnerability with people who do not care, it got me killed once and it’ll kill me again.

Damian: I was told my worth here was based on my sole existence. To have to unlearn my upbringing while surrounded by others that challenge my worth and place in this family is a level of vulnerability I will do anything to avoid.

Tim: Jason tried to kill me, Damian tried to kill me, and Dick doesn’t care. Every single thing I have accomplished has been in spite of my supposed brothers, who have only distrusted or hurt me. If I point this out, it is my fault for driving them away no matter how much they hurt me.

Dick: Jason died, Tim asked me to be Robin, took it for himself, Jason tried to kill Tim and Bruce, and Damian lashes out at every available opportunity and somehow this is my fucking problem. I did not sign up to be a parent or even a brother. I am not responsible for their decisions. I agreed to be responsible for teammates and missions, not the emotional vulnerability of a family I never asked for. I handle myself and they should be capable of dealing with their own problems without dragging me into them. They aren’t. I was an only child and had the responsibility of being a parent thrust on me when I never agreed to it. I have my own life and my own problems that take a back burner to anything else in this godforsaken family. I moved away and am still fucking here.

But even talking to each other like this can’t solve everything. Because for as upset as they are with each other, it’s Bruce that they’re actually upset with.

[our-lesboy-experience]

Ok one thing I want to say is as a trans man I’m personally uncomfortable if a lesbian wants to date me. However I don’t mind trans men who do date lesbians because that’s totally cool, I just wish people wouldn’t make a big fuss about it when I say that “I” don’t want to (im super attracted to men being one reason) and my childhood best friend who’s a lesbian is cool with it too

yeah!! it always confuses me when people say lesbians or trans men "can't do xyz," because you know. people CAN do whatever they want regardless of sexuality. and when people ask you if you if you think they can it's like....yes?? because they have free will?? I can't control someone's personal decisions??