#but there was just acknowledgment of what was actually happening immediately right now in the moment | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

favefandomimagines · 2 months ago

Text

loml (r.c)

SEASON 4 PART 2 SPOILERS!!!!

Request: @motherlanaenthusiast “So what if we do a Rafe x Maybank!reader where like maybe she was in morocco but she wasn’t with JJ when he died cuz she was doing smthn else so like they all have to break the news and that happens and then when like after when they’re back at Kildare Rafe like gets deja vu from s1&2 him because he sees reader going kinda crazy”

Summary: Rafe is the only person to save Y/N from a downward spiral.

AN: I will NEVER forgive the writers for this lol I went on a tangent with this one

The sun was blistering and casting a golden hue over the winding alleyways in Morocco. Rafe Cameron and Y/N Maybank moved through the maze of alleyways, their steps quick and purposeful, yet filled with a tension that spoke of something much deeper than their immediate surroundings.

Y/N was JJ Maybank’s twin sister, a spitfire with a wild heart who had once been the center of Rafe’s secret world. The two had shared a tumultuous fling, a secret affair that had started four years ago under the cover of darkness and ended just as abruptly. It was a relationship neither had ever fully acknowledged. Rafe was a Kook, while Y/N, like her brother JJ, was a Pogue, tale as old as time.

The shop was quiet, the group off to Charleston to follow the next clue. Y/N stayed behind to wait for her brother after he had wandered off “running errands.” The bell above the door jingled, and the soft sound broke through the silence.

Y/N was leaning against the counter, staring at her phone screen, scrolling through all the unread text messages to her brother.

"How can I help you?" she asked absently, not looking up from her phone.

She looked up and her breath got caught in her throat, the smile on Rafe Cameron's face grating against the air. He stood at the entrance, hands tucked casually in his pockets, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, keeping her tone even, though the familiar tension in her chest began to build. She’d never been able to shake the feeling of unease around him. Not since everything went down with Pope, the fight that ended whatever it was they had.

"Can't I just stop by and visit my local surf and bait shop?" Rafe said, taking a step inside, his eyes glinting mischievously.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You looking for Sarah?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Actually, yeah. I'm looking for Sarah."

She shook her head, setting the phone down with a soft click. "She doesn’t want to talk to you."

Rafe raised an eyebrow, the smirk still in place. "I think I can have a chat with my sister whenever I want."

"Not if she doesn't want to talk to you." Her words were firm, but there was a slight quiver in her voice that betrayed her more complicated feelings.

Rafe’s smirk didn’t falter as he took a few more steps forward, closing the distance between them. He placed his elbows on the counter, leaning in closer, the sudden proximity catching her off guard.

"I'm sorry about the drama at the beach the other day," he said, his voice lowering in an almost sincere tone. "With Ruthie and the turtles."

She didn’t respond right away, trying to keep her emotions in check. She could feel the weight of his words, but it didn’t change anything. Rafe was sorry—sorry for the mess he had created, maybe, but never for the things that had truly mattered.

"Don’t act like you care, Rafe," she replied, her voice steady despite the knot tightening in her stomach. "You only care about how things affect you. And I guess now Sofia."

He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze growing intense. The years of tension between them seemed to hang in the air, unresolved and unspoken. Then he said, his tone soft but firm, "We used to be so close, Y/N. What happened?"

She sucked in a breath, trying to push down the anger, the hurt, the past. "The drugs happened," she said slowly, her voice low. "Ward happened. Your anger happened."

His eyes darkened for a second, his jaw tightening. He opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it just as quickly. After a long, weighted silence, he took a half step back, his expression softening, just a little.

"I’m on your side, you know," he said quietly, the words almost a whisper, as though they were too important to rush. "I always have been."

The words hung between them, charged and heavy with meaning. She didn’t know what to say to that. She hadn’t known what to say to Rafe since the day he’d walked away, leaving everything torn apart in his wake.

Before she could respond, Rafe straightened, brushing his hand across his forehead as if clearing his thoughts. He turned toward the door, his back to her now. "I’ll be seeing you around," he muttered over his shoulder, the door swinging open as he left without another word.

Now, as they weaved through the ancient Moroccan city, they were older, scarred by the years of treasure hunts, betrayals, and broken friendships.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Y/N said, stopping suddenly, her dark eyes scanning the shadowed alleyways. She had always been the one with the sixth sense, the one who could feel trouble like a storm on the horizon.

Rafe turned to her, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

But before she could answer, they heard Kiara’s voice, shrill and desperate, cutting through the noise of the bustling market.

“Y/N! John B! Pope!”

Y/N’s heart seized in her chest, and without another word, she took off in the direction of Kiara's cries, Rafe hot on her heels. They rounded a corner and found Kiara kneeling on the cobblestones, her face pale and streaked with tears. And lying there, motionless, was JJ.

“No, no, no,” Y/N whispered, her voice breaking as she fell to her knees beside her brother. Her hands trembled as she reached out to touch JJ’s face, his skin already growing cold under her fingertips.

“JJ, please,” she begged, her voice cracking, tears streaming down her face. “You can’t leave me. You promised.” She cried.

But there was no response, no flicker of life in those familiar blue eyes. It felt like the world had been ripped out from under her, like the ground had opened up to swallow her whole. Rafe stood behind her, his face pale, his fists clenched at his sides.

The group stood stunned, no one wanting to be the one to move. But they were in a busy, bustling city with a dead body. People would ask questions. “W-We have to get him out of here.” John B stammered. He moved to reach for Y/N, attempting to pry her off of her brother’s body.

Y/N fought against him, muttering things like ‘I’m not leaving him’ or ‘he can’t be alone.’ Rafe takes over for John B and has to use his strength to pull her up to her feet. He held her in his arms, close to his chest to avoid having to see her two best friends moving her brother.

At that moment, all he could really do was hold her.

Months had passed since that horrible day in Morocco, but for Y/N, time had ceased to exist. She was back in Kildare, but it was as if she was still stuck in that dark alleyway, kneeling beside her brother’s lifeless body.

Sarah Cameron was heavily pregnant, as she prepared for the birth of her first child with John B. It was supposed to be a time of joy and new beginnings, but the shadow of JJ’s death loomed over them all.

Y/N had fallen into a downward spiral, her grief consuming her. She drank herself into oblivion every night, stumbling through the streets of Kildare like a ghost. She would disappear for days, only to be found passed out on the beach or in the hammock outside her house. The Pogues tried to help her, but she pushed them all away, lost in her own pain.

Sarah had told Rafe about Y/N, how she was drowning in guilt for not being there when JJ had died. The words had hit Rafe like a punch to the gut, reminding him of his own spiral years ago, before his father had dragged him into the hunt for the Royal Merchant’s gold.

He couldn’t let that happen to Y/N. He wouldn’t. He loved her even if he couldn’t admit it.

So he found himself standing on the porch of the Maybank house, staring at the peeling paint on the front door. John B’s van was parked out front, and Rafe assumed he was there trying to talk some sense into Y/N.

A part of him thought ‘oh John B is here, I can come back later.’ But he couldn’t walk away, not this time.He’s walked away from her too many times.

He knocked, the sound echoing in the stillness of the early afternoon. John B opened the door, his face drawn and tired. “Sarah’s not here.” He told Rafe. “I’m not here for Sarah. I’m here for Y/N.” Rafe answered.

“She’s not doing well, man,” John B said, his voice low. “We don’t know what else to do. I think... I think she feels guilty for not being with JJ when it happened.”

Rafe nodded, his jaw tightening. “Let me talk to her.”

John B hesitated but finally stepped aside, letting Rafe through. The house was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos that had always surrounded JJ.

Rafe walked down the hall to Y/N’s bedroom, the same room he used to sneak into all those years ago. All of the memories came flooding back as he stopped in front of the door. Nights that ended tangled up in her sheets. Other nights where she just wanted to be held after a fight with her dad.

Rafe pushed the door open to find her cocooned under the comforter, a bottle of vodka sitting on her nightstand.

“JB, please go away,” she mumbled, her voice raw and hoarse. Rafe assumed from a mixture of alcohol and crying.

“Not John B,” Rafe said softly.

Y/N stiffened, slowly emerging from under the covers, moving to sit up against her headboard. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face pale and gaunt. She looked like a shadow of the girl he once knew.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“I’m worried about you,” Rafe said, moving to sit on the edge of the mattress.

“Apparently everyone is,” she muttered, her eyes flicking away from him.

There was a heavy silence, the kind that was filled with all the things they had left unsaid for so many years. Rafe took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

“Y/N... I know what it’s like to lose yourself,” he began, his voice steady. “I know what it’s like to drown. I was there once, you know that. Hell, I’m still trying to crawl my way out.”

She looked at him, her eyes filling with tears. “He was always afraid to be alone, and I left him alone,” she choked out. “I should have been there. I should have protected him.”

Rafe’s heart broke at the raw pain in her voice. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened, Y/N. JJ wouldn’t want that.”

“How would you know?” she snapped, her voice rising. “You never cared about him. About me.”

The words were like a slap in the face, but Rafe took it, knowing she was lashing out from a place of deep hurt. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I didn’t care about JJ, and I pushed everyone away. But I always cared about you. And I don’t want to lose you to this, Y/N. I can’t.”

“I’m not your responsibility, Rafe.” Y/N muttered. “No but you’re the person I love.” Rafe replied. “You can’t say things like that.” She practically snapped. “Why not? You used to beg me to tell you how I felt and I finally am. I’m sorry it came so late and it’s happening because of this but I’ll be damned if another person I love gets hurt because I didn’t do anything to stop it.” Rafe told her.

She stared at him, the anger draining from her eyes, leaving only exhaustion. “I don’t know how to come back from this,” she whispered.

“Let me help you,” Rafe said, his voice breaking. “Please. Let me be there for you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

There was a long pause, and then, almost imperceptibly, she nodded. It was a small gesture, but it was enough.

“I’ll try,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’ll try to get better.”

“And I’ll be here,” Rafe promised, reaching out to take her hand. “Through it all. I’m not going anywhere.”

A year had passed since that day in Morocco. The sun was shining over the Outer Banks, the salty breeze carrying the sound of laughter and the distant crash of waves. The Pogues had gathered for a special occasion, a day of celebration and new beginnings.

Sarah and John B’s son, Jackson, was turning one today, and they were throwing a beach party in his honor. Y/N stood on the edge of the gathering, watching as Sarah bounced her son on her hip, his tiny hands reaching for the birthday cake.

Y/N was sober, clear-eyed, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she could breathe again. She had fought her way out of the darkness with Rafe by her side, and though the pain of losing her brother would never fully fade, she was learning to live with it.

Rafe approached her, a soft smile on his lips. “You doing okay?” he asked, his voice gentle.

She nodded, turning to look at him. “Yeah, I think I am.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “I’m proud of you,” he whispered. “For everything.”

She leaned into him, letting the warmth of his embrace chase away the lingering shadows. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For not giving up on me.”

Rafe smiled down at her before she moved up on her toes and kissed him sweetly. “I love you, Rafe.” She spoke quietly. “I love you too.” He replied.

They stood there together, watching as their friends celebrated a new chapter of their lives, a chapter filled with hope and healing.

For the first time in a long time, Y/N believed that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

#imagine #imagines #outer banks #jj maybank #rafe cameron #outer banks imagine #kiara carrera #john b routledge #rudy pankow #sarah cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe outer banks

1K notes · View notes

hoshifighting · 4 months ago

Text

when you start to ignore them — seventeen as your crush

hyung line / maknae line

minghao’s not dumb—he felt it when things shifted. the way you suddenly stopped giving him those small gifts, the attention, the lingering gazes when he caught your eye. he didn’t know why, but he knew something had changed. he never mentioned it, though. minghao’s never been one to chase attention, but yours? yeah, he got used to it. maybe too used to it. the weird part is, he started to crush on you too. he’d look forward to your little gifts, the way you’d brighten up around him. he thought he’d play it cool, but now? now he feels like he’s the one waiting.

one afternoon, after another day of you barely acknowledging him, he corners you. his voice is calm, but there’s something sharp beneath the surface. “did something happen between us?” you blink at him, caught off guard by the sudden confrontation. “no… why?”

he tilts his head, eyes narrowing. “you stopped talking to me. stopped giving me attention.” his lips curl into a smirk, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “i thought you liked me.” the words hang in the air, and for a second, you swear you see a flicker of irritation in his eyes. “or was that just for fun?”

mingyu’s used to girls crushing on him. he’s tall, handsome, and charming without even trying, so it never surprises him when people start showing him attention. he thought you were just like everyone else at first—another person fawning over him. but then, you stopped. and fuck, that’s when he realized it was different.

he never thought much of it before, but when your gifts stopped showing up, when you stopped hanging around him, it hit him hard. he didn’t expect to miss it, didn’t expect to miss you. but here he is, sitting in the practice room, scrolling through his phone, wondering why you’re suddenly ignoring him. “hey,” he catches you outside the dorms one evening, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “you’ve been… quiet.”

you raise an eyebrow. “quiet?”

he nods, swallowing. “yeah. you used to, y’know, be around more.” he glances away, almost embarrassed. “i kinda miss it.” there’s a pause, and when you don’t respond right away, mingyu’s chest tightens. “did i do something wrong? or… were you just over it?” his voice is softer than usual, less cocky, and it makes you realize how much he actually liked having you around. maybe more than he let on.

seokmin doesn’t take it well. when you stop giving him attention, he feels it immediately. it’s like a cloud settles over him, and he doesn’t know how to shake it.

he tries to laugh it off at first. “oh, what did I do now y/n-nie?” he jokes, flashing you one of his signature grins. but when you don’t laugh, when you just shrug and walk away, his smile falters. it eats at him for daysssss!! he hates it. hates how much he’s thinking about you, about the way you’ve been avoiding him. he misses your presence, your gifts, your attention.

finally, he can’t take it anymore. one night, after practice, he pulls you aside, his expression serious for once. “why are you ignoring me?”

“i’m not—”

“you are,” he cuts you off, his voice a little sharper than usual. “you used to care, you used to… i don’t know, you used to make me feel special. now it’s like i don’t even exist to you.” his voice cracks.

“what the hell ive done?! or are you just tired of me?”

seungkwan’s first instinct is to make you jealous. when he realizes you’ve stopped giving him attention, stopped following him around, his pride takes a hit. so, he starts flirting with others more openly, trying to get a reaction out of you.

but it doesn’t work. you don’t even seem to care, and that only makes him more frustrated. after a week of his failed attempts, he finally gives up and decides to confront you. “what’s going on?” he asks one day, crossing his arms over his chest, clearly annoyed. “you’ve been ignoring me, and it’s pissing me off.”

you raise an eyebrow, not really in the mood for his theatrics. “pissing you off?” he huffs, rolling his eyes. “yeah. you used to be all over me, and now… nothing. did you find someone else or something?”

there’s a pause, and for the first time, seungkwan’s usual confidence wavers. “i don’t like it,” he admits quietly, his voice softer now. “i miss you.” it’s a rare moment of openness from him, and you can tell he means it.

“can we… can we go back to how things were?”

vernon doesn’t say anything for a while. he notices when you stop hanging around him, but he’s not the type to make a big deal out of it. he figures you’re just busy, or maybe you’ve lost interest, and he tells himself it’s fine. but deep down he knows its not.

after a few days of silence, vernon starts to feel restless. he misses the small things—the way you’d smile at him, the way you’d always bring him snacks, when you click your fingers on his face when he zooms out or laugh at his dumb jokes. without you around, everything feels off. he catches you one day after class, his hands shoved in his pockets as he looks at you. “sup’, you good?”

“yeah, why?”

he shrugs, glancing away. “just… you’ve been kinda distant.” he pauses, trying to find the right words. “i don’t like it. actually, i like having you around...” his voice is quiet, almost shy, and it takes you a second to realize he’s being serious. “i mean, i get it if you’re over it or whatever, but…” he trails off, rubbing the back of his neck. “i really miss you. that’s all.”

chan’s reaction is instantaneous. the moment you stop giving him attention, he starts giving it right back. it’s like he can’t stand the idea of losing your presence, so he tries to fill the gap himself.

suddenly, he’s the one following you around, offering you snacks, little gifts, even bubblegum. “here, thought you might like this,” he says with a grin, holding out a pack of your favorite candy.

“uh, thanks…”

he smiles, but there’s a hint of nervousness in his eyes. “you’ve been kinda quiet lately. figured i’d return the favor, y’know?” he keeps it up for days, going out of his way to get your attention, to make you smile. and when you finally ask him why he’s doing it, he just shrugs, his usual confidence slipping a bit.

“i missed you,” he admits softly, his eyes dropping to the floor. “you used to do all this for me, and i didn’t realize how much i liked it until you stopped.” there’s a beat of silence before he looks up at you again, his voice quieter now. “i guess… i just wanted to remind you that i care too.”

2K notes · View notes

akutasoda · 4 months ago

Text

hold my hand, lean on me

synopsis - jiaoqiu adjusting to domestic life with you

includes - jiaoqiu

warnings - gn!reader, spoilers for 2.5, angst w/ some comfort, fluff, maybe ooc, wc - 1.3k

a/n: i actually cannot get this darn foxian out my mind :( shouts to @thelightofmylife for some vv helpful pointers and information ^^ tbh i feel like this is just 1.3k words of word vomit HAHA

the healers finished informing you of the situation, thanking them you then closed the door to the shared abode. a sigh you didn't know you were holding back escaped alongside a glance down to the papers the healer's handed over. you could read them later, the news followed by the details of it wasn't exactly a pleasant thought, if anything it might be a final push for the tears to start falling.

your thoughts were distracted by the sound of hesitant, shuffling footsteps. turning around, you were met with the sight of jiaoqiu standing idly not too far from you - almost as if he was taking in the surroundings, although now it was more him trying to piece together the memories of what it looked like.

jiaoqiu had arrived back at the yaoqing not too long ago, admittedly rather late, but the luofu's alchemy commission had kept him for a while. he'd been forced immediately to the yaoqing’s alchemy commission as they were now the ones responsible for his treatment plan for the future. a short talk with them had then led to him being escorted back home. to you.

upon arrival, some of the alchemy commission healers explained to you about the entire situation. they kept it short but soon handed you a full document containing everything from “patient’s injuries” to “doctor’s post-charge advice” - each and every sentence pained you more and more, you refused to acknowledge what would've happened if moze hadn't found him, you would have to thank him later.

the healers had asked you to take upon the responsibility of looking after him at home, and in most day to day life scenarios - at least until he adjusted properly. they asked you to keep strict to the “post-charge advice” as otherwise it probably would cause more harm to him, making his healing process longer and maybe even worsening it beyond healing.

“jiao-ge” you called out, to let him know that you were still near. it pained to see the somber look on his face. the last thing jiaoqiu saw wasn't anyone, anywhere or anything he loved. no. it was something he hated, someone he loathed in unfamiliar territory surrounded by no-one he knew.

now he stood in familiar territory, with the person he loved the most. but he couldn't bask in the sights or even see you. all he had was memories to cast images in his mind, to help pretend that nothing was wrong and that he could see what he remembered.

you knew that he wouldn't want you doting on him. jiaoqiu needed to adjust, to learn how to go about his life as usual and you overly fussing over him would only probably annoy him and prolong that.

it had been a long day, any proper conversations could be held tomorrow. to no surprise, jiaoqiu insisted he could get ready and do everything by himself. you granted him that independence. eventually, admittedly with some help, you two were ready for sleep. and even though you were right there beside him, jiaoqiu never felt further from you.

---✩

the process was slow. nobody would've said that it was going to be anything other than that. jiaoqiu very clearly wanted independence. he didn't want to seen as a burden, he chose to do this, and knowing that people were constantly doting on him instead of continuing with their lives made him feel awful.

one of the first things you did was help make your shared abode more compatible with his needs. an easy step was making sure that everywhere was clean and free of obstruction, normally moze always

showed up and helped with cleaning as well. another step was helping jiaoqiu become able to navigate the home on his own, mainly he acted on memory but you needed to make sure that where he frequented was always obstruction free.

occasionally you could hear a bump or hurried shuffling from the room over, each and every time you dropped what you were doing and checked up on him. it was never anything major and if anything it always resulted in jiaoqiu silently cursing at the piece of furniture he walked into.

you two always adopted a verbal calling system at home. should you need to leave the room he was in, you would tell him exactly where you were going and what you were doing - that way he knew where you were. jiaoqiu would also inform you of where he planned on going just in case something happened or he got lost.

although, admittedly, for the first couple of weeks jiaoqiu stuck to you like glue. to him, it was a way to quickly adjust and therefore he wouldn't have to be a burden for long. however jiaoqiu subsequently had developed a rather interesting habit, one neither of you addressed - you because you thought it was sweet and didn't want to embarrass him, him because he didn't want to admit it.

and that was him using his tail as a guidance. at home, it was either curled around your waist, wrist or leg. in public, it lingered around your wrist, so much so that it constantly tickled you. it was a way of him making sure you were there with him, you hadn't left him and he was okay.

although most admittedly it was worse at night. he would hold you close, an ironclad grip that usually you would ask for him to let up but you knew he needed this. tail curled around your waist, preventing you from escaping. in his opinion, you helped him sleep easier, much easier than any fragrances he was prescribed.

however, this always came with a risk. due to residual lupitoxin still in his body, jiaoqiu became frequently prone to nightmares which plagued him constantly. everytime his mind was tricked into believing that the borisin were waiting, patiently looking for an opening to get revenge.

he wakes up because of them, drenched in fear and swear, and because he's so fearful the lupitoxin can take hold easier. suddenly he's tricked into believing that the borisin have found him. unbeknownst to the fact that it's you. so you sometimes take the liberty of sleeping away from him, but then he wakes up to an empty bead but he can hear someone in the room over and when he finds out it was you, sleeping away from him, he becomes consumed with guilt.

a major change for him was his inability to cook anymore. jiaoqiu was determined to do so with his impairment but he needed to learn. nowadays you cook with him. instead of being hushed out of the kitchen, you stood closely beside him, handing him the tools he needed, telling him where you put them so he could find them again on his own.

gently reminding him to lay off the spices when he requested more, he was to avoid spicy foods at all costs for the time being. a hard change, one that he absolutely despised but he knew better than to go against a doctor's order. helping him go out and buy ingredients, listening to what he told you and carrying out the tasks diligently.

---✩

and that was a shortlist of changes. you were very happy to accommodate anything for him, so long as he felt comfortable and loved. it wasn't uncommon for jiaoqiu to experience major lows, it was only natural and you needed to be there for him.

to listen to him, to show him that the support he needed was always a simple ask away - you didn't want to push to dote on him for many reasons. but that was different to showing genuine care and love to him when he started seeing himself as a useless, dependent person.

life would be different. for a while or maybe even forever, perhaps feixiao would strike lucky in her search for a healer that knew how to help. but for now, you two would have to learn how to adjust. to be there for eachother.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn

#—stellaronhvnters.#x reader #x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #hsr x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #jiaoqiu x reader #jiaoqiu x you #hsr jiaoqiu #honkai star rail jiaoqiu

898 notes · View notes

mariacallous · 26 days ago

Text

Not long after the November election, new members of Congress gather for a couple of weeks of orientation. Consistent with that tradition, Sarah McBride, a Delaware Democrat, made the short trip from Wilmington to D.C. to meet with her fellow first-termers. At a hotel in the capital, she learned about the lottery for office space, how to assemble a staff, and the intricacies of the legislative process. As the first transgender member of Congress in history, she also experienced an orientation in naked aggression. Within days of her arrival, Nancy Mace, a Republican from South Carolina, introduced a resolution that would restrict access to all “single-sex facilities” on Capitol Hill to those of the “corresponding biological sex.” In other words, Mace sought a bathroom bill—and made clear that she “absolutely” intended it as a reaction to McBride.

“I’m not going to stand for a man, you know, someone with a penis, in the women’s locker room,” Mace, who had claimed to be “pro-transgender rights” as recently as last year, said of her new proposal. She also added an odd, pseudo-feminist twist: “It’s offensive that a man in a skirt thinks that he’s my equal.” Mace found support among Republicans, including Speaker Mike Johnson and Marjorie Taylor Greene, who, according to Politico, told colleagues that she would fight McBride were the two of them ever to meet in a women’s bathroom on the Hill.

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez was among those who leapt to McBride’s defense, calling the bill “disgusting.” McBride, for her part, refused to take the bait, saying that she would “follow the rules as outlined by Speaker Johnson, even if I disagree with them.”

McBride was born in Wilmington; her father was a lawyer and her mother a high-school guidance counselor. At American University, she was active in Democratic politics and worked on Beau Biden’s campaign for Delaware attorney general. In her senior year, she served as student-body president, and ended her term by publishing a moving coming-out article for the Eagle, the A.U. paper, called “The Real Me.”

McBride had been hesitant to acknowledge her trans identity, she explained, because that might prevent her from pursuing a career in politics. “I wrestled with the idea that my dream and my identity seemed mutually exclusive; I had to pick,” she wrote. In the end, she realized that she would have to embrace both: “My life was passing me by, and I was done wasting it as someone I wasn’t.”

In 2020, McBride was elected to the Delaware State Senate. And this November she was elected to the United States House. At the start of our conversation, which has been edited for length and clarity, she seemed determined to keep her cool, despite the insult she had just suffered. “I think in many ways I got a fuller orientation this week, where I actually got to see not just the nuts and bolts of Congress,” she said drily, “but also some of the performance of Congress, too.”

Well, let’s talk about that. Nancy Mace, one of your colleagues now, immediately came forward and decided that this would be a good time, a perfect time, to introduce a bathroom bill, all directed at you. How did you take this piece of what can only be called aggression?

I always knew that there would be some members of the Republican caucus who would seek to use my service representing the greatest state in the Union in Congress as an opportunity for them to distract from the fact that they have absolutely no real policy solutions for the issues that actually plague this country. And, in some cases, to grab headlines themselves. I was not surprised that there was an effort to politicize an issue that no one truly cares about—what bathroom I use. I did think that it might wait until January. It happened a little earlier than I anticipated. I was still getting lost in the tunnels of the Capitol when we got the news that this was coming.

What was your first reaction to it?

“Here we go.” Throughout the campaign, I really focussed my campaign on my record in the Delaware General Assembly: of passing paid leave, expanding access to health care, and the kitchen-table issues that I know keep voters across Delaware up at night that I will be working on in Congress, like lowering the cost of housing, health care, and child care. But, as I got questions about the added responsibilities that sometimes come with being a first, the first thing I would always say is that I know that the only way I can do right by any community I’m a part of is to quite simply be the best member of Congress for Delaware that I can be, to be an effective member working on all of the issues that matter.

When I was watching this play out on television, reading about it, in the past week or two, I looked up how the first Black member of Congress was received, Hiram Revels. This is in the nineteenth century. He was treated with a great deal more respect than you were. I understand your desire to be poised about this, and straightforward, and to move the issues to the issues you ran on. But I wonder what your emotional reaction was to what you could only have taken as an enormous gesture of deep disrespect.

Look, I’m human, and it never feels good to be used as an opportunity to get headlines. It never feels good to have people talk about deeply personal things. I think I knew what I was signing up for, though; I know what the Republican Party in this country, in Congress, has become.

Which is what?

A party that is more interested in performance art and being professional provocateurs than being serious legislators and a serious governing party. I think they have come to the conclusion that they are able to get enough votes if they occasionally throw red meat to folks, because that red meat might satiate what is an authentic crisis of hope that I think people across this country face right now.

I think we have to be crystal clear in calling them out on what they are doing, and pull the curtain back to really dull the effect that these manufactured culture wars have on the American voter. Some people do receive this red meat, and it resonates with them—it makes them feel better, but it doesn’t actually address the real pain in their lives. And I think we should be calling that out and obviously modelling an approach to governing that genuinely solves the real problems that people are facing that create a level of insecurity and fear that allows for culture wars to satiate at least something instantaneously.

But I truly believe that if we solve problems, if we are serious, people respond. I’ve seen that in Delaware as we have passed paid leave, raised the minimum wage. Voters here in Delaware are sort of bucking this national trend. We’ve expanded our majorities both in 2022 and 2024 in the Delaware General Assembly, I believe, as a byproduct of a record of results that voters are responding to, and a message focussed on kitchen-table issues and economic issues. And it’s allowed us to not only expand our majorities but to break through the culture wars that the Republican Party has pursued. Because we’re in Delaware, in the Philadelphia media market—we are getting those anti-trans Trump ads pumped into our state like we were in Pennsylvania. And yet, despite that, running on a message of paid leave, higher minimum wage, union protections, a trans candidate not only won here in Delaware but actually outperformed every major Democrat running for major office in Delaware statewide.

And yet the notorious ads that ended with “Kamala Harris is for they/them, President Trump is for you”—ads that were oriented around anti-trans sentiment—not only did they occur, they worked. Certainly, they worked in the interpretation of not only the Republicans but the press at large. They ran them over and over again and poured millions of dollars into them.

So, first off, I think there are two things. One, this country is still entering into a conversation about trans people. This country still is at a Trans 101 spot. And one of the things I think Democrats have to be more mindful of is that leaders should always be out in front of public opinion, but, in order to foster change in public opinion, we’ve got to be within arm’s distance of the public so that we can pull them along with us. If we get too out ahead of it, we lose our grip and we’re unable to pull the public with us.

Is that what’s responsible for your calm in talking about this? I remember very well that Barack Obama, when he was running for State Senate in Illinois, got a questionnaire, and one of the questions was “Are you for gay marriage?” He didn’t say yes. Now, everything I know about Barack Obama tells me that, at that time, a clear “no” was not his real sentiment, but that he didn’t want to get too far out ahead, for political reasons. He clearly changed later on. Is that part of your calculus in the way you talk about this? Because Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez answered Nancy Mace in much more vitriolic terms.

I think there is a space for diversity of messengers and a diversity of message. I would never presume what was in Barack Obama’s heart and mind on the issue of marriage equality. Many people authentically evolved. What we do know is that, as the movement for marriage equality moved forward, the most effective messengers for marriage were not same-sex couples, were not parents of same-sex couples or kids of same-sex couples. The most effective messengers for marriage equality were those who evolved. And they were effective because they gave a permission structure to people who had not yet gotten there that it was O.K. to be uncomfortable, it was O.K. to be on the other side of the issue. You weren’t a bad person; you weren’t wrong.

My motto has always been: I’ll extend grace so long as people demonstrate growth. But that is a two-way street. And I think that we are shooting ourselves in the foot, as people who believe in progress, when we create no incentive for people to grow, because they perceive that they will be permanently guilty for having been wrong. We create no space for them to grow by extending no grace for them to actually walk there. I think one of the reasons why we see people pushed into their respective corners is because you say something that’s deemed problematic, and you are immediately hounded by one side and immediately embraced by the other side. Human nature is to—when faced with that degree of extreme binary reactions—go to the people who are validating you instantaneously. We unintentionally actually push people further and further into their own corners and into their negative opinion by responding with a degree of condemnation and vitriol that creates no incentive and space for them to grow.

But I actually want to say something on those ads, because you did say the key sentence in that ad. It wasn’t the surgery point, it wasn’t the undocumented-immigrant point, it wasn’t the trans point, it was the concept in that line that Kamala Harris, according to the ad, was for a small group of people, and Donald Trump was there for “you.” The lesson of this moment, of this last week, is that we should be flipping that script. Because that’s the authentic thing—Kamala Harris was for everyone. And Democrats are for everyone. And every single time Republicans focus in on a small vulnerable group of people, not only are they trying to distract from the fact that they have no real solutions—not only are they trying to employ the politics of misdirection, to move your attention away from the fact that in that same moment they’re trying to pick the pocket of American workers, undermine union protections, and fleece seniors by privatizing Medicare through the back door—but every bit of time and energy that is diverted to attack trans people, that diverts the attention of the federal government away toward attacking trans people, is time and energy that is not being spent on you. It’s time and attention that’s not being spent on raising your wages or improving your benefits or lowering the cost of living. These attacks have costs. Republicans are focussed on attacking a small group of people, and we are here to actually address the issues that you care about.

You’ve now had a week with your new colleagues, and I wonder what kind of support, or the opposite, you felt in your orientation sessions after Nancy Mace made the statement she did.

I have been overwhelmed and heartened by the love and the support of my Democratic colleagues. It was stunning. I got to Washington, and I’m at orientation. I’m grateful that I had a week before all of this started, because I had a week to just marvel at the fact that I was there. I had a week to marvel at the fact that I am serving in a body that Abraham Lincoln served in. One of the first nights we were there, we gathered in Statuary Hall, which is the Old Hall of the House, which is where Abraham Lincoln served. And then, after we gathered there, we walked onto the floor of the United States House of Representatives, where they moved in 1857, just before the Civil War broke out. And we sat in the chairs and I thought, This is the space where the Thirteenth Amendment and the Fourteenth Amendment were passed. This is the space where women got the right to vote. This is the space, these are the chairs. This is the job of the people who voted to pass the Civil Rights Act and the Voting Rights Act. And you feel this awesome responsibility, not just to deliver on the tangible policies for the constituents you serve in that moment, but you also feel that deep responsibility as you realize that you are one of a little more than five hundred people who have the responsibility to be stewards of a democracy—of the longest ongoing democracy in the world. That is an awe-inspiring responsibility.

I’m really grateful that I had that opportunity. But what was made that much more meaningful was that in that second week, as all of this noise happened—as I continued to be focussed on the actual work that I was there to do—the love and the support that came in from my Democratic colleagues really reinforced what I had already been hearing, which is that that caucus is a family.

And what about the Republican side? Did you get any support from there?

Yes. Look, there was a lot unsaid, but there was kindness and clear intentionality to say, “Welcome to Congress. It’s wonderful to serve with you.” That was quite a contrast to some of the other behavior we saw that week.

People actually coming up to you from the Republican side and embracing you in one way or another?

Yes. Staff and members.

The Speaker of the House, Mike Johnson, released a statement that said all single-sex facilities are for people of that “biological” sex. You responded to this on X, formerly Twitter (it’s interesting that you’re still on Twitter!), by calling this a distraction and saying that you’ll follow the rules as outlined by Johnson. But what do you say to people in the trans community who think you didn’t go far enough?

I understand that, at a moment where you are scared, you want to see someone fight. I understand that when you are a first, there are a lot of people who never dreamed that something like this would be possible, who are living on that journey with you. And so they feel very deeply the experience of discrimination. They feel very viscerally the experience of disrespect. I think what I would say is, This was not done to bar me from restrooms. This was done to invite me to take the bait and to fight. I am maintaining my power by turning the other cheek and doing what I promised Delawareans I would do, which is to focus on the job in front of me. Yes, when that calls for me to defend my L.G.B.T.Q. constituents, I will do that; when it calls on me to defend workers in my state, I will do that; when it calls on me to defend retirees in my state, I will do that. But I should not be the issue.

You must have anticipated, if not this, then something like it. And of course you are a first, a historical first. Do you face a lot of threats?

I think one of the problems in our politics right now is the level of toxicity has resulted in far too many people seeking to solve political disputes not at the ballot box but through violence. I am certainly not alone in Congress in having to think through that. I think it’s very early. There have been moments throughout my life where I have had to be cognizant. I’ve never had a job where I have not received death threats. Literally, I have never had a job—even when I was in my first, junior-level position.

How do you handle them?

Well, fortunately, we’ve got great law enforcement here in Delaware that I have worked with over the course of this campaign and throughout my time in the State Senate. Look, one of the things that I grappled with when I decided to run for this position is the risk that comes with being a first at this level. Even though I didn’t run to be a first, there’s obviously risk that comes with it. And there was a moment where I almost didn’t do it. Because of the fear.

Tell me about that. Was it a specific incident or just a generalized fear?

There were some rumors about what some far-right-wing groups might try to do, should I run.

When did this come up?

This was before I announced. There was a lot of speculation about me running.

So what within you allowed you to make the leap and declare yourself a candidate for Congress?

A couple of things. First off, I think that we delude ourselves into thinking that people don’t take these types of steps without fear. People aren’t fearless. Bravery only comes into play when you face those fears, when you pursue something despite the fears. I really do believe that we are at an inflection point where we need a politics of grace in this country if we are going to have any chance at not only restoring our capacity to have a national dialogue, which is fundamentally necessary in a democracy, but actually making government work better. I genuinely felt like I had something to contribute in that respect. I think I know how to get things done. I know how to legislate.

But you’re going to have to embody grace—and there’s every sign that you already do—but with a President who says, publicly, something like this: “Your kid goes to school and a few days later comes home with an operation.” That’s the President of the United States, come January 20th. How do you combat that, and all that’s behind it, and embody grace?

I think a couple of things, and I think this extends beyond Donald Trump. So I’m going to step back a little bit. I think Democrats struggle with extending one of our basic principles—which is that no one is their worst act, no one is their worst belief—to people on the other side of the political divide. I’m not talking about Donald Trump right now. I’m talking about Republicans. The question here is not how do I demonstrate grace in the face of Donald Trump; it’s how do I demonstrate grace in a world where people that I work with—where even people that I represent—hold positions and beliefs about who I am that are personally hurtful, potentially.

I think all of us need to do a better job of seeing the humanity of people on the other side of the aisle. Because I think what happens in this country right now is: The left says to the right, “What do you know about pain, white straight man? My pain is real, as an L.G.B.T.Q. person.” And the right says to the left, “What do you know about pain, college-educated, cosmopolitan élite? My pain is real, in a post-industrial community ravaged by the opioid crisis.” And I know that, when I am upset, the worst thing that someone can say to me, even if it is said with the best of intentions, is “It’s not as bad as you think.” Any therapist will tell you that the first step to healing is to have your pain seen and validated. And I think all of us have to do a better job of recognizing that people don’t have to be right in our mind for what they’re facing to be wrong. And people don’t have to be right in our minds for us to try to right that wrong. That comes down to sort of a core recognition that every single person is more than just one thing about them. And every single person is more than even beliefs that might personally hurt many other people. And the other thing I’ll say on that is to a similar point: early on in my career, I went viral for something.

Do you remember what it was?

Ironically enough, I was an advocate. It was a selfie in a bathroom in North Carolina that I was technically barred from being in.

I see.

The vitriol that came back to me as a twentysomething-year-old was so dehumanizing and so cruel and so mean. It was the closest in my life that I have ever been to suicide becoming a rational thought. I wasn’t suicidal, but it was the first moment where I just went, I want to end this miserable experience.

What was coming at you?

I mean just the level of online bullying and harassment. It was amazing to me that people—person after person—telling me to kill myself could actually hurt me. But it was an onslaught. And, again, I was twenty-five. I was new to all this, and I thought, Maybe I don’t have skin thick enough for this. I sort of went on a journey to understand the psychology of trolling and bullying. I think it was a “This American Life” podcast by a writer who talks a lot about her own weight and grapples with her own body image in a really public and vulnerable way, talking about the experience that she had writing about that hurt and getting outreach from one of her worst bullies and trolls online—someone who had created a Twitter account as her deceased father to troll her from—who opened up to her about what was motivating him. And, listening to that conversation, it really helped me internalize a truth that has allowed me to find balance and grace in the face of hatred or cruelty. And that was: Everyone deals with an insecurity. Everyone deals with something that society has told them that they should be ashamed of or that they should hide. And the thing about me is that I have taken that insecurity, that thing that society has said you should be ashamed of and you should keep quiet—and I’ve not only accepted it but I walk forward from a place of pride in it. Bullies see that. They see that individual agency and conquering my own fears and insecurities, and they’re jealous of that. That has allowed me to find compassion for folks who respond to me in sometimes the way that they do, to recognize that I hope, too, they can find the power to overcome whatever pain is plaguing them.

And so much so that when Nancy Mace made the comments that she did, and put forward the bill that she did—are you able to see it in those terms and not receive the attacks with the same despair that you did when you were in your twenties?

Yes. Yes.

That’s an enormous transformation.

I won’t say that it doesn’t hurt, but, yes, I am not distracted in the same way that I was.

“Distracted” is a small word for it. I mean, what you felt in your twenties must’ve been a lot worse than “distracted,” no?

Yeah. I am able to contextualize it and not feel the pain as much. Again, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt, but I am able to work through it.

How? That’s a very hard thing. Is it therapy? Is it maturation? Is it living in your skin ten years longer? What is it?

I think the last two: I think it’s maturation, and I think it’s just finding a confidence in myself that allows me not to internalize. I really do seek to find compassion for the people who are acting out, who say the things that they do, because that does help me. That does help me to try to see and understand where a person is coming from, even if the action itself explicitly or implicitly is not well-intentioned, even if it’s being done for cynical purposes—to try to understand that there’s still a person behind that and maybe there’s something in their life that has pushed them to engage in the way that they’re engaging.

In a certain number of weeks, you’re not only going to have to hear about Nancy Mace, you’re going to have to work with her. And you talk a lot about “working across the aisle,” which is a phrase that we hear from politicians all the time. This takes on new levels of meaning—“working across the aisle with Nancy Mace.” Can you do it?

Well, I look forward to working with colleagues on the Republican side of the aisle who are serious about the work that they’re doing. Who have disagreements with me, perhaps profound disagreements with me, but who are serious about getting things done.

For the first time in our conversation, I sense you’re reluctant to answer the question directly. With all respect.

I will work with anyone who’s willing to work with me. And I don’t know this individual member of Congress—I had barely heard of her before this. I will never say that anyone is beyond redemption.

I want to zoom out a bit now and talk about your own unique path to politics and congress. Your late husband, Andrew Cray, was an L.G.B.T.Q.+ health advocate and attorney. What kind of work did he focus on, and what of his legacy can be seen in your own political career and direction?

Andy was the kindest, smartest, and—this is very important for me in a partner—the goofiest person that I had ever met. Just a really good and decent person.

How did you meet?

We bumped into each other at a White House Pride reception during the fourth year of the Obama Administration, 2012. After that, he reached back out to me on social media, on Facebook, and he said that he thought we’d get along “swimmingly.” I thought, Who the hell in their twenties says the word “swimmingly”? But clearly someone I want to spend some time with. So we went out on a date, and I fell in love pretty quickly.

Was he already sick?

No. He was an attorney, as you mentioned, working on health policy, and he was actually working on the implementation of the Affordable Care Act. He was a brilliant mind, but also—and I think this goes back to our conversation about grace—he was so principled. I remember we had a debate once where he won me over—where we had a debate about whether it was appropriate to out anti-L.G.B.T.Q. politicians who were in the closet themselves. I was of the mind that their hypocrisy called on us to out them. And he was of the mind that the principle that we are fighting for—that everyone should be able to live their life fully and freely, be able to live their sexual orientation and gender identity, the way they see fit and the way they need to—if that is not an unbreakable first principle, then what is? And principles only matter when you have seemingly altruistic reasons to violate them. He was someone of just immense grace, principled grace.

He got sick about a year into our relationship. He developed a sore on his tongue and went in thinking it was just a benign growth. He had a little minor surgery to remove the benign growth, which was aborted in the middle of the procedure as they realized perhaps that it was something more. About a week later, he was diagnosed with oral cancer. It was a shock to both of us. I mean, we were both young invincibles, something that he had written about as he worked on the A.C.A., right? We never would’ve imagined that cancer would enter our lives in our mid-twenties, but we knew from the very start how lucky we were. He knew in particular, given his work, how lucky he was to have health insurance. And we were both very lucky to have flexibility with our jobs that allowed Andy to get care: a twelve-hour surgery that left him having to relearn how to talk, how to eat, how to breathe. I was lucky to be there by his side to care for him, to suction his tracheostomy tube, to tend to his wounds, to hold his hand through the absolute fear.

And then eventually, when his cancer turned out to be terminal, to be there by his side, to marry him, and to walk him to his passing, which happened a couple of days after we were fortunate enough to get married in our building. My brother, who’s a radiation oncologist, said to me, “I’ve seen a lot of people pass away from cancer. And one thing you should try to take stock of over the weeks ahead, as Andy’s health deteriorates, is that you are going to bear witness to acts of amazing grace that will fill your life.” And truly that grace and those miracles were everywhere. I think it has fundamentally shifted my perspective on the world and my ability to see that grace, to see beauty and tragedy, and to recognize that hope, as an emotion, only makes sense in the face of hardship.

In other words, you’re thinking about him all the time through this?

Yes. Yes.

And what does that do for you?

It makes me feel less alone in navigating this. It makes me feel more confident in what I’m doing and how I’m trying to go about this. There’s certainly things that I wish I could talk to him about and get his perspective on, but I try to take the lessons from our couple of years together and try to draw those lessons into action in this moment.

We began our conversation with you talking about how moved you were to be in the halls of Congress for the first time as a soon-to-be member, and seeing and sensing all that had happened in progressive terms, in liberatory terms, over time and in previous centuries. My guess is that this is not going to characterize the next two years for you in Congress. The Democratic Party, in large measure, will be fighting a rear-guard action against all kinds of initiatives by a Trump Presidency in a Republican Congress. How do you anticipate the coming next two years? What kind of role will the Democrats and you play? What will be your day-to-day life, do you think?

Well, there’s no question that we’ve got our work cut out for us. There’s no question that we’re going to have to push back on a lot of damaging and dangerous policies.

But, look, I think the biggest challenge for us is not that we understand that there’s a fight. And we will do the work. The challenge is going to be to summon the hope necessary to see that fight through. I think that one of the challenges that we have in this country right now, particularly for Democrats, is that, really since the nineteen-sixties, it has felt like if we simply work for it, if we vote for it, if we volunteer, if we share our stories, if we lift our voices, that we can then inevitably bend the arc of the moral universe toward justice. And we felt that, I think particularly, in 2008 and when we elected Barack Obama, and then A.C.A. passed, and marriage equality became a law of the land. It just felt like there was this sort of unfolding sense of great progress.

It feels different right now. It doesn’t feel like, if we simply work for it and fight for it, that change will come, that things will work out. We can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. But the other thing that I thought about, as I sat in that chair on the floor of the House, was about not only the elected officials that served there but all of the advocates and activists and citizens who lived through those different chapters in our country’s history. We have to recognize that that sense of inevitability with hard work that we felt twenty years ago, thirty years ago—that’s the exception in our country’s history. Every single previous generation of Americans has been called to conquer odds much greater than the ones that we’re facing right now. And they had every reason to believe that change would not come. They could not see the light at the end of the tunnel. Enslaved people in the eighteen-fifties had no reason to believe that an Emancipation Proclamation was on the horizon. Unemployed workers during the early days of the Great Depression had never heard of a New Deal. Patrons at the Stonewall Inn never knew of a country where they could live openly and authentically as themselves. And yet they persevered. They summoned their hope, they found that light, and ultimately they changed the world.

The narrative you describe is very, how do I put it—Obamian? It reminds me of Obama’s speech in Selma, the last one he gave there as President, about a kind of parade of American heroic advance. And when I talk to a lot of younger people in my office, in my life, in my family, they don’t all share the sense of determined hope that you do. There’s a good deal of depression—if not giving up, then a kind of sense that these are going to be very dark times to come. And with all the emergencies surrounding us, at home and abroad, and environmentally, it’s very hard to muster hope. As a politician, as a member of Congress, what do you tell them?

You cannot tell me that the reasons for hopelessness now are greater than the reasons for hopelessness of an enslaved person. You cannot tell me that the reasons for hopelessness now are greater than the insecurity and the fear of workers in the midst of the Great Depression, and a country that very easily could have fallen into totalitarianism and fascism, as many liberal democracies around the world were falling into that, in the early thirties.

Hope is not always an organic emotion. Sometimes we have to consciously find it and consciously summon it. And, yes, there are big challenges right now. Maybe those challenges are insurmountable. Maybe we will be, because of social media, incapable of restoring our capacity to have a national dialogue. Maybe because of the culture that we live in right now, we will no longer be able to have conversations across disagreement. Maybe because of unchecked wealth and corporate power, we won’t be able to conquer climate change. The list goes on. Maybe. But we would be the first generation of Americans to give up on this country, and we would be the first generation of Americans who were unable to find the path forward. And I just don’t believe that we are. And I certainly believe that we don’t have to be.

390 notes · View notes

7seas-of-ryy · 5 months ago

Text

I Need You | Part 1

Author’s Note: I want this to be multiple parts because I have a storyline that would feel crammed if I did it in one part! Not sure exactly how long I'll make it! Angst AND fluff!!

Summary: You've been in love with Azriel for as long as you can remember but it seems he always wants what he can't have. You want him to be happy with Elain but what will it cost you?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Nightmares, let me know if I need to add any others :)

You were running as fast as you could and it wasn't fast enough. The creature was catching up to you and the second it got you, you knew you'd be gone forever. Sweat poured down your body, fear was coursing through you as you heard the monster start to... laugh behind you? It was truly enjoying the chase. Suddenly shadows started to appear, starting at your ankles then wrapping around your body until they were covering you entirely.

Azriel. He was here to save you and the relief you felt was sweet. You knew the shadows would protect you. Until, as quickly as they appeared, they began to fade away. What? No, this can't be happening. You're cover is entirely gone and the creature jumps at you. You struggle against it and scream for the shadowsinger but its no use. It sinks it's teeth right into your neck and right as you're about to die...

You jolt awake. Immediately grabbing for your neck to make sure there are no marks and convince your brain there was no actual monster.

The immediate dread of putting on a smile for the rest of the day hit you. Everyone in the IC had their own problems and nightmares, you didn't need to burden any of them with your own.

So, you got yourself ready for the day, put on a happy face, and headed down for breakfast. Only Cassian, Feyre, and Rhys were down and eating already.

"Good morning sunshine" Cass spoke with a mouth full of food.

You smiled at him and sat down with a cup of coffee, not in the mood to fill your stomach after that horrible dream.

"How did you sleep?" Feyre asked, her kind eyes watching you

"Good" You forced out and Feyre's eyebrows rose at the clipped word. Rhys and Cass were now watching you as well.

"Uh I was thinking of going out today, maybe try out the new bakery that opened up." You said quickly, hoping they wouldn't notice you trying to change the subject.

"Oh! Azriel was just telling us he wanted to try it out! He'll definitely want to go with you!" Feyre spoke

As if speaking his name had summoned him, he walked in with Elain at his side.

"Did I hear my name?" The shadowsinger asked

"Our dear friend here was just telling us she was going to try that new bakery today and we knew you wanted to as well." Cass said while throwing an arm around you with a big smirk

Azriel's eyes lit up ever so slightly. "Ah yes, I did want to try that. I'm afraid I'll be busy for a while. Would you like to go tonight instead?"

You nodded your head with a shy smile, "Yes that would be nice. I'll meet you there"

He tilted his head in acknowledgment at you and went back to his conversation with Elain.

You had been crushing on Azriel for so long, maybe too long. For a while you'd hoped he felt the same, but it seemed his attention was always elsewhere. He's been too busy with Elain all the time so you barely got to hang out with him anymore. To say you were excited to finally get some time with him was an understatement.

You went up to your room, packed your bag for the day and left for the city. Even though you had a rough start, maybe today would be a good day... Maybe.

#azriel #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fluff #azriel angst #inner circle

726 notes · View notes

shunsuiken · 4 months ago

Text

cw. gn!reader + you are a rather shy lover & sunday thinks its the cutest thing ever + kinda ooc + set in pre-version 2.2

sunday looks… far too handsome for a gala. it’s actually baffling how he captures your attention like no other being on penacony—or even the entire universe in fact! his shimmery golden eyes resemble a warm horizon and his voice is smooth and soothing like honey. but that smile… oh, that smile—it stirs a storm of butterflies in your belly and muffles the sound of people in the hall.

you gaze at him softly from where you stand, partially participating in conversation with guests. he’s really gone all out for this gala, huh… you’re snapped out of your thoughts the second your name is mentioned, immediately you giving the guest a smile to acknowledge what they’ve said, and then offer some input on what they were talking about.

when the conversation allows you to withdraw, you find yourself looking for sunday again. but he’s not where he was standing at earlier—he’s gone somewhere else! you unknowingly pout at the thought of this, folding your hands in front of yourself neatly as you try to search for your lover.

“i could feel your stare from a mile away, my dearest,” sunday chuckles lightly, a free hand caressing your back to comfort you. “have you found who you were looking for?” he raises a brow cheekily, amusement laced in his tone.

you jump slightly at the sudden presence of a person, then relax when you realise it’s your lover. you lean in a little closer, happy you’ve found who you’ve been searching for before awkwardly tearing your gaze away from him after considering how much your face must have brightened up. oh how embarrassing…

sunday watches your entire thought process from start to finish on the look on your face, having to stifle a laugh behind his gloved hand. “i’m afraid your expressions are as transparent as glass,” he hums, tilting his head to meet your timid gaze. “were you looking for me?”

you want to slide under the table and make yourself home there. there’s nowhere for you to run when you’re in sunday’s arms! your cheeks are lit aflame at how he stares at you—observing every inch of your features and how they twitch or curl because of him.

“no, i wasn’t—i simply was taking note of how well dressed everyone happened to be tonight!” you elaborate, obviously lying. sunday sees right through you.

and so he decides to play along.

the halovian hums a sound of agreement. “well said, my dove. but in your opinion, who would you say is the most best-dressed?”

no one dares to look upon the kind of affection sunday gives you. guests and members of the family simply turn their gaze away while the oak family head practically cradles you in his arms. red hearts might as well be shooting out of his eyes!

you blink, a little shocked by his question because did he really have to ask?! the answer is right in front of you!

“w-well,” you stutter, averting your gaze and it is to your misfortune that you miss to see how his soft amber gaze follows yours, as if not to miss a single thought that would reveal itself from the look on your face. “the suit you’ve chosen for this occasion is the most splendid colour.”

a small laugh erupts from his throat. “why thank you, my dove.” he pulls you a little closer and you squeak. “so you think i’m the best dressed?”

you stare at him and grant him an answer with a small nod. but with every passing second he showers you with his attention, the gradual heat that was previously tolerable is now a blazing inferno, dancing across your cheeks.

sunday realises now that he has to calm down. for the sake of his fragile-hearted lover and for the sake of his reputation. any more of this teasing and that really inappropriate sentence queuing at the back of his throat will really leave his lips.

his eyes do sparkle at how your lip quivers. you are just the cutest little thing!

“i am only kidding, dearest one.” he gives you a soft smile, hand rubbing circles on your hip. “though i do appreciate your thoughts.”

#THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE POSTED AFTER THE PENACONY ARC FINISHED UP 😭😭😭 AND I ONLY GOT TO FINISH IT NOW GOOD LORD #sunday x reader #sunday fluff #sunday x reader fluff #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr fluff #honkai star rail fluff

437 notes · View notes

deadpresidents · 1 month ago

Text

"Mr. Trump's election demonstrates how American tolerance for the unacceptable is nearly infinite. There are hundreds of absolutely mind-boggling things I could point to from the past decade...But three election in a row, Mr. Trump has been a viable Presidential candidate and our democracy has few guardrails to protect the country from the clear and present danger he and his political appointees will continue to confer upon us. Clearly, Mr. Trump is successful because of his faults, not despite them, because we do not live in a just world...And now Republicans will control the executive branch, the Senate and the House of Representatives. There will be few checks and balances...

...Mr. Trump's voters are granted a level of care and coddling that defies credulity and that is afforded to no other voting bloc. Many of them believe the most ludicrous things: babies being aborted after birth and children going to school as one gender and returning home surgically altered as another gender even though these things simply do not happen. Time and again, we hear the wild lies these voters believe and we act as if they are sharing the same reality as ours, as if they are making informed decisions about legitimate issues. We act as if they get to dictate the terms of political engagement on a foundation of fevered mendacity.

We must refuse to participate in a mass delusion. We must refuse to accept that the ignorance on display is a congenital condition rather than a choice. All of us should refuse to pretend that any of this is normal and that these voters are just woefully misunderstood and that if only the Democrats addressed their economic anxiety, they might vote differently. While they are numerous, that does not make them right.

These are adults, so let us treat them like adults. Let us acknowledge that they want to believe nonsense and conjecture. They want to believe anything that affirms their worldview. They want to celebrate a leader who allows them to nurture their basest beliefs about others. The biggest challenge of our lifetime will be figuring out how to combat the American willingness to embrace flagrant misinformation and bigotry.

As Mr. Trump assembles his cabinet of loyalists and outlines the alarming policies he means to enact, it's hard not to imagine the worst, not out of paranoia but as a means of preparation. The incoming President has clearly articulated that he may dismantle the Department of Education and appears to be giving the wealthiest man in the world unfettered access to the Oval Office. He plans to begin mass deportations immediately and has announced his pick of a Fox News host as the defense secretary -- the list goes on, each promise more appalling than the last.

We would like to believe that many of the ideas on Mr. Trump's demented wish list won't actually come to fruition and that our democracy can once more withstand the new President and the people with whom he surrounds himself. But that is just desperate, wishful thinking. As of yet, there is nothing that will break the iron grip Mr. Trump has on his base, and Vice President-elect JD Vance is young enough to carry the mantle going forward for political cycles to come.

Absolutely anything is possible, and we must acknowledge this, not out of surrender, but as a means of readying ourselves for the impossible fights ahead."

-- Roxane Gay, "Enough", The New York Times, November 17, 2024.

This is one of the best, most spot-on pieces about where we are and what we must prepare ourselves for in the aftermath of Donald Trump's re-election to the Presidency. These gift links will allow you to bypass the NYT paywall and read the entire article, and I urge you to share these links with as many people as you'd like.

#Presidential Election #Politics #Presidency #United States #America #Presidential Transition #Donald Trump #President Trump #President-elect Trump #Trump Administration #Trump Transition #MAGA Movement #Cult of Personality #Roxane Gay #New York Times #New York Times Opinion #ELECTIONS HAVE CONSEQUENCES #Consequences #This is your life

385 notes · View notes

gavramous · 7 months ago

Text

gaz is out of commission after a rough mission. a broken arm, some bruised ribs, and a minor concussion have left him on bed rest in a hospital close to base. he gets visits daily, from his sister who happens to live nearby, and from price, ghost, and soap, keeping him up to date with the happenings at work.

the recruits are a pain in the arse, as always, soap tells him. price lets him know that there's no update on makarov at the moment, but laswell is chasing a potential lead, so fingers crossed. but ghost, after he's asked how gaz is feeling, usually just sits there, reading a book. not that gaz is complaining, because, if he asks, ghost will tell him what's happening in the story.

he apprciates it all, their comraderie, their care for him. they don't have to visit him so much, with their busy schedules, but they do, and he treasures their relationships.

it's ghosts 'turn' to sit with him for the day. they don't actually hold any sort of consistent order for when they visit him, but price said that one time, and it's stuck. ghost had walked into gaz's room with two apples and sat down on the chair to gaz's left. he immediately pulled out a mean looking knife - how he was able to get that thing through the hospital to his room, gaz has no idea - and starts slicing the first apple.

"how'r you faring then?"

"horribly, sir," gaz tells him. he's said this every day since he's been admitted. he's not really doing horribly. well, not physically, at least. sure, his ribs still ache, but he's mainly just bored out of his mind.

"mm, you don't look too good."

seems ghost is over his pessimism. "how kind you are to me."

ghost tuts, and holds out a slice of apple for him.

"what's this?"

"an apple, garrick, you're not that far gone, are you?"

"oh, full of jokes today, huh? obviously i'm asking why you're cutting me up an apple like you're my mum."

"ought not to question your mother so much, hm? just take it."

so gaz does. he's never one to turn down fresh fruit. through his chewing, gaz thanks ghost. ghost hums in acknowledgement, and there's silence as gaz eats. once he's done, ghost cuts and hands him another slice.

ghost breaks the silence after a bit. "it's weird, you know that?"

"what is?"

"your addiction to apples."

"i'm not addicted."

"no?" ghost challenges. "you eat at least one every day."

"what are you even paying that much attention for?" gaz questions.

"can learn a whole lot from observation." ghost shrugs as he hands him another slice.

"yeah? from eating habits?" gaz takes the offered slice.

"like you wouldn't believe." ghost is obviously joking. okay, maybe it's not obvious, gaz isn't soap, with his eerie ability to read ghost's jokes and moods like an open book with size 60 font, but he's getting there. and he's pretty sure ghost is joking right now. so he chuckles and says, "you're full of it."

ghost waves his knife in gaz's direction. "watch yourself, sargeant," he says, eyes crinkled slightly, pleased that gaz understood he was joking.

ghost is a little weird like that, gaz thinks. he's subtle and dry with his humour, leaving it up to others to figure out if he's serious or not, and he always seems pleased when people get he's joking. maybe it's his way of being seen. gaz is assuming now, he knows, but he's got nothing else to do, cooped up in this room. he enjoys trying to decipher the way his friends work every now and then. he feels he understands them better this way.

"why'r you fueling my addiction then?" gaz jokes back, "you obviously disapprove of my habits."

ghost doesn't answer. instead, after a minute or so, he asks, "you want another slice?"

"yes please."

he's hit with a wave of appreciation for ghost in that moment. he's found somewhat of a family in this team, and he'll value it for as long as they're able to work together.

#this is my ghost and gaz besties agenda post! they are best friends!#ghosts love language is acts of service and gazs is being cheeky <33 #mw #gaz #ghost #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #cod #mw2 #cod mw #chittering #drabble #fic #kyle garrick #simon riley

571 notes · View notes

harrywavycurly · 18 days ago

Text

Worth the Fight: A Little Treat

Masterlist: Here

CW: A few pregnancy symptoms, ultrasound stuff, baby things, slight panic attack, language, arguing, Harry is a dick, angsty bits.

A/N: This is one of the more dramatic parts of this story. I literally debated on the outcome of a certain part of chapter for two days, but hopefully y’all will be happy with the choice I made! And as always, let me hear your thoughts, comments or concerns✨

Tag List: @kookjipao @msolbesg @lomlolivia @namoreno @outofthisworl-d @mema10 @watarmelon212 @natykn @sassamanda77 @st-ev-ie @ghayda0 @hannah9921 @indierockgirrl @chaoticthoughts2022 @lizsogolden @gmikaelson @styleswithaseaview @sofaritsalrightt @babegoals @fangirl509east @one-sweet-gubler @stylesftcher @umadirectioner @last-saturday-night @montgomery-929496

Summary: You and Harry visit Dr. Andrews and the two of you learn some things that causes Harry to react in a way you don’t expect✨

You can feel the daggers Harry is shooting at the side of your head from where he’s sat in a chair against the wall facing the side of where you’re currently sitting on the exam table in Dr. Andrews office, he’s been glaring at you with his lips pressed into a hard line ever since the nice young man walked into the room. You felt the energy in the office change the moment the Doctor stepped inside and offered you a warm smile and introduced himself, Harry all but went stiff at the sight of him, barely acknowledging him with more than a head nod and a tight lipped smile and you wanted to roll your eyes because you immediately knew what his issue was about. You simply ignore his glares as he crosses his arms over his chest while Dr. Andrews begins asking you some questions.

“So you think you’re about eight weeks is that right?” You just nod as he clicks his pen and writes something down on the paper he has on his clipboard with all your information on it. “And you’re wanting to do a paternity test as well correct?” You once again find yourself nodding as if saying the words out loud will make everything more real, that this is happening you are in fact pregnant and are here to get an ultrasound and a test done so that the man who is still doing nothing but glaring at you can learn that it’s his baby you’re carrying. This time Dr. Andrews looks at you and offers you a smile as he slides his pen into the pocket of his shirt before he turns and places the clipboard on the counter near the sink that’s in the office.

“Now that we have the boring stuff out of the way what do you say to taking a look and maybe get a better idea of how far along you are?” You hear shuffling coming from the side of you making you glance over to see Harry looking visibly unamused at the doctor’s attempt to lighten the mood as his eyes watch Dr. Andrews sit down on a stool with a set of wheels attached to it allowing him to move about the space with ease. His eyes are practically glued to the man’s hands as he starts to put gloves on as he wheels himself over to the end of the exam table near where your legs are hanging off the edge.

“Oh uh-yeah I would uhm love to take a look.” You stumble over your words as Harry finally peels his eyes away from what Dr. Andrews is doing and stares at you with a blank expression. “Is that-do you want to uh take a look?” You ask with a quirked brow to which Harry licks his lips before rubbing them together as he gives you a small nod as confirmation making you smile as you turn and look at your doctor. “Will we actually see anything or-”

“Knock knock.” Harry jumps slightly as a woman enters the room in baby pink scrubs. “Sorry didn’t mean to scare you I’m Nancy and I’m here to assist Dr. Andrews with the ultrasound.” She explains with a light chuckle as she looks at Harry and gives him a kind smile that he doesn’t bother to return, instead he just looks away from her and back towards you and he feels his eyes go as wide as golfballs making his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline at the sight that’s before him.

Your lower half has a thin sheet draped over it so Harry can’t see anything other than the flesh of your calves and the socks on your feet that are currently being placed in stirrups as you slide down lower on the exam table. He watches in horror as Dr. Andrews is handed a wand like device from Nancy as she takes a seat closest to the machine that Harry knows is for ultrasounds, but the thing in the doctor’s hand isn’t anything he’s ever seen before and he’s all of a sudden feeling extremely uncomfortable. He uncrosses his arms from his chest and places his palms on his knees as he finds himself leaning in towards the screen that Nancy is setting up, needing any excuse he can to look away from Dr. Andrews as he finishes getting everything ready. But Harry can’t help but glance over just in time to see him put something over the wand like device and that’s when he decides he simply has to know what’s going on.

“What’s uh-what’s that? That thing you’re putting on there?” Harry’s voice causes you to quickly turn your head to look at him, this being the first time he’s spoken almost the whole visit minus when he was asked questions about his own health history from the nurse before Dr. Andrews came in. You follow his gaze and before anyone can answer you let out a chuckle making Harry raise an eyebrow at you as he takes his eyes off what’s happening at the end of the table near your sock clad feet and up to your face.

“Oh right you haven’t seen one of those in a while have you? That’s called a condom.” You answer as you lay down so your head is on the pillow at the end of the exam table. Dr. Andrews lets out a low chuckle while Nancy hides her laughter by biting into her bottom lip as she gets the screen ready but turns it so for the time being only her and the doctor can see what’s happening.

“Really? Jokes? Now’s not the time for this.” He snaps with a huff as he sits back into his seat and begins to twirl the ring on his middle finger, a habit that you’ve noticed he does when he’s a bit anxious.

“Have you eaten today? You seem extra grumpy.”

“Yes I’ve eaten today it’s almost ten in the bloody morning.”

“Not a morning person then?”

“What? Yeah I’m a morning person. This is what normal people call the late morning. I’m usually up well before this.” You just turn your head to look at him as he lets out a scoff and you just roll your eyes at how annoyed he looks while sat in the chair a mere three feet away from you.

“That doesn’t mean you’re a morning person you know that right? That just means your body is used to being awake at a certain time.” You explain making him let out a groan as he runs a hand over his face and you know he wishes he could be anywhere else but in this room with you, about to get a glimpse at what in his mind could only possibly be his baby. You on the other hand are a ball of excitement at finally getting to see the little thing that’s been causing you to feel absolutely exhausted at the end of the day mixed with a hint of nausea tossed in at random times throughout the day.

“Doesn’t mean you enjoy the mornings.” You add after a brief moment of silence and Harry just shoots you a look, his way of silently letting you know he’s over the conversation and won’t be adding anything further to it.

“Okay you ready?” You turn your head and look down towards your feet at Dr. Andrews who is already looking at you with a smile on his face, you give him a nod and that’s when Nancy walks around the exam table to turn off the overhead lights leaving just the glow of the screen on the ultrasound machine and a lamp on the counter near Harry to light up the room. “You may feel some pressure but it shouldn’t cause you any discomfort.” Harry tries to focus on what Nancy is doing instead of what the doctor is currently doing between your legs with the wand.

“Now Mr. Styles this is called a transvaginal ultrasound and we do this so we can get a clearer picture of what’s happening so we can confirm a few things and it’s easier to do it this way than through the stomach.” Nancy explains in a soft and calming voice that makes you relax even though thanks to your hours of googling you already knew what to expect. You allow yourself to glance over at Harry and see him just nod his head at her words as he rests his forearms on his knees after scooting to the edge of his seat.

“Okay let’s take a look here.” You place your hands on your stomach as you feel a wave of nerves take over you and you wish you could reach over and grab onto Harry’s hand for comfort but currently he just so happens to be the least comforting person you know. “You’re doing great. Just try to relax for me.” You just nod and let out a deep breath and then all of a sudden you see Nancy’s eyes go wide momentarily before she turns to look at Dr. Andrews and taps a few places on the screen, you watch him lean in towards the screen and a small smile makes its way onto his face.

“Congratulations.” You feel a wave of relief wash over you as the word slips out of his mouth while Nancy turns the screen finally allowing you and Harry to see it. “You’re having twins and it looks like you’re-” Harry’s voice quickly interrupts him before he can finish his sentence.

“I’m sorry you-you said uhm-what did-what did you say?”

“I know it always seems to be a bigger shock to the dad-”

“I’m not-we don’t know if I’m-”

“Twins? Like you mean there’s more than one baby in there?” You ask cutting Harry’s rambling off making Dr. Andrews laugh and nod as Nancy points to one little section the screen with the tip of her finger that’s labeled ‘baby A’ and then she points to another section next to it that’s labeled ‘baby B’ but both just look like little beans floating around in a black bubble.

“That’s exactly what I mean and you look to be measuring almost nine weeks along and everything looks good.” You can’t really do anything besides nod as the realization that you’re going to have twins begins to sink in. “Let’s take a listen and-”

The sound of Harry standing up makes you sit up on your elbows as Dr. Andrews and Nancy pause their movements, wanting to give Harry time to process things before moving on having dealt with this kind of thing before from shocked parents finding out their little bundle of joy is suddenly two of more. You open your mouth to say something but quickly close it when Harry runs a hand through his hair as he turns to look at you, his eyes are wide and the hand that’s at his side is balled into a tight fist and you know he’s panicking and right now you can’t do anything about it because your legs are in the air and you have nothing on your lower half besides a sheet.

“Harry are you-”

“I can’t-I uh have to go.” Before you can even say anything Harry is gripping the doorknob of the exam room and throwing it open allowing him to make a swift and in your opinion, slightly dramatic exit. You stare at the door for a few minutes, thinking that maybe he just needs some air and he’ll be back but deep down you know better, this is the same man who left your apartment without saying goodbye and doesn’t handle situations like this well at all.

“Sorry about him.” You apologize with a sigh as you bring your focus back to Dr. Andrews who just gives you a nod and a small smile while Nancy gives you a look that tells you she wants to say something but she doesn’t, she just smiles at you and begins printing off photos from the machine.

“No need to apologize.” Dr. Andrews says quickly brushing the incident off. “Now do you want to hear your babies heartbeats?”

You let out a heavy sigh as you exit the elevator and step into the hallway your apartment is on, you adjust your hold on the box that’s currently now being held with one hand so you can dig around in your purse for your house key. It’s not until you’re further down the hallway that you notice him, sitting with his back against your front door with his knees bent allowing his feet to be firmly planted on the floor while his hands are resting flat against his stomach and you squint your eyes a bit to see the back of his head is resting against your door and his eyes are closed. You want to turn around and head for the elevator and leave him sitting there but his eyes shoot open and his head turns in your direction when a tube of chapstick falls out of your purse and hits the floor with a clunk.

“Shit.” You mumble as you look down at the chapstick that decided to betray you and announce your presence to the one man you don’t want to talk to or see and if it wasn’t your favorite one you would let it sit there and turn around and go back to the elevators or make a quick escape down the stairwell. You let out a huff as you squat down so you can quickly grab the tube and shove it back into your purse but when you go to stand up you feel a hand on the bottom of the box you’re trying to keep from tipping over, gently taking it from you.

“Are these donuts?” You ignore him as you steady yourself once you stand back up. “You shouldn’t eat all these at once that’s a lot of sugar.” You roll your eyes as you quickly take the box from him and walk the few feet to your door.

“You didn’t tell me he was a man.” Harry all but blurts out after a moment of uncomfortable silence and you lift your head to send him a glare as you stop right in front of your door. You knew that’s why he was is a foul mood at the beginning of the appointment, but you just didn’t think he’d bring it up now considering that’s not the biggest issue the two of you have to get through regarding his behavior today.

“Yes I did.” Harry wants to roll his eyes because he’s sure you didn’t but at the moment he can’t be bothered to because he’s just glad you finally decided to speak to him even if it’s in the most annoyed tone of voice he’s ever heard come out of another person before. “I said he has good reviews and he had an appointment today at nine. It’s not my fault you lack basic reading comprehension skills and didn’t catch it.” Harry crosses his arms over his chest as you speak, his mind mentally going over your messages and he hates that you’re right, hates that he did miss the little hints that he knows he could’ve easily picked up if he would’ve just paid a bit more attention.

You feel his eyes on you as you move the box to one hand and go back to digging around in your purse for your house key. Normally you have it out and ready to go, but today has been anything but normal so you just let out a small sound of frustration as you touch the bottom of your bag and don’t feel the familiar coldness of your metal key ring. Harry chews on his bottom lip as he watches you struggle to hold a box of donuts in one hand and dig around in your giant bag with the other, and he swears he’s never sees someone constantly be at odds with their purse before, it’s as if it hides your belongings from you on purpose. After a few minutes he decides he can’t watch you struggle any longer as he lets out an annoyed huff and uncrosses his arms so he can reach over from where he’s stood next to you with his body turned towards you, while yours is facing your door in what he knows is an attempt to not have to look at him and grabs the strap of your purse, that to his surprise you let slide off your shoulder without any resistance.

“You and this fucking bag.” He mumbles as he opens it up and you just roll your eyes as you turn so you’re now facing him as he digs around in your purse. “What’s the point of having so much shit in here if it takes you forever to even find it?” He asks as his brows pinch together when his hand comes in contact with something sleek but when he pulls it out and sees it’s just your AirPods case he tosses it back into the bag with a groan.

“Thank god.” He sighs a few moments later once he finally finds your keyring that has your car key as well as your house key on it. He drops your bag by his feet so he can put your key into your lock but before he can open the door you reach out and grab the doorknob keeping it closed.

“No.” Harry drops his hand from the door as he raises a brow at you making you just shift the box in your hand so it’s resting partially on your hip as you stare at him with an unreadable expression on your face.

“What do you mean no?”

“Oh you don’t hear that word a lot do you? I mean no as in you’re not allowed in my apartment.”

“What? But we-”

“There is no we.” Harry swallows hard as he watches your eyes get a familiar sheen to them. “There’s you and then there’s us.” His eyes glance down to your free hand that rests on your stomach and he instantly knows who you mean when you say us and it makes his stomach do a flip at the reminder that you’re carrying twins.

“Listen I’m sor-”

“Don’t.” Your voice is low as you try to blink away the tears that are beginning to make your vision a little blurry. “You left me in the middle of an exam just to be sitting at my front door hours later so you can say sorry? No that’s not how this works.” Harry feels like his heart is beating a mile a minute as you sniffle a few times between your words.

“I just got-”

“I don’t care.” You state cutting off whatever excuse he was about to toss your way as you bend down and grab the strap of your purse that’s still by Harry’s feet. “I don’t think we should talk until you get the results of the paternity test back. Which you still have to go give your sample for by the way since you left before they could get it.” You say with as much conviction you can muster in your slightly emotional state but you internally give yourself a pat on the back for getting all out in one go.

For once Harry doesn’t know what to say, he knows you’re upset and he knows right now there’s not a lot you’ll let him do or say to make it up to you so he just nods his head thinking that the least he can do is give you what you’re asking for without starting an argument.

“I agree yeah-yeah that’s a good idea.” You look at him almost in shock at how quickly he agrees to your request but of course he would agree to not speaking to you for a bit, something you assume he’s looking forward to. You sling your purse strap over your shoulder with an annoyed huff before reaching for your doorknob and Harry has to stop himself from reaching out and opening it for you.

“You know I was so excited about today because I just wanted to have that moment of like oh wow this is all happening when I saw my baby or I guess my babies for the first time and you- you had to go and fucking ruin it.” Harry hears you let out a shaky breath as a few tears make their way down your cheeks. “You Harry Styles are an asshole.” Your voice is watery but the words still sting as they reach his ears and the tears are free flowing now as you sniffle, but before he can even attempt to say anything, not that he would dare try to defend himself given the state you’re currently in; you open your door and take a step inside.

But just as you turn to close it Harry instinctively takes a step back wanting to give you some space, you glance down at the box in your hand and then look up at him allowing him to really get a good look at your face and that’s when the reality of what he’s actually done begins to set in. He watches as every blink causes more tears to slide down your slightly blotchy cheeks, the tip of your nose is pink from sniffling due to the unavoidable snot that comes with these types of tears but the worst of it is the look in your eyes that makes it almost painful for him to keep the intense eye contact with you because it’s a look that tells him this is all his fault. He’s the reason that a day you intended to be happy and joyful turned into you crying in front of your door while telling him you don’t want him to come inside.

“And yes these are donuts. I thought I deserved a little treat after everything I dealt with today.” Your voice snaps Harry out of his thoughts just in time for him to watch you close the door and when he hears the sound of your deadbolt he knows there’s no chance of you coming back out to talk to him.

He’s not sure how long he stands there, just staring at the gold lettering nailed to your door that says your apartment number, 5C but he knows it’s long enough that when he does finally move to run a hand through his hair his knuckles feel tight as if he’d been making a fist the whole time without meaning to. He lets out a long sigh as he turns to begin walking towards the end of the hall where the elevators are. He reaches into his front pocket for his phone but instead of calling for his driver he scrolls through his contacts in a anxious hurry to find the one person that he knows will tell him what to do and try to help him fix things. And Harry needs to fix things because right now he’s so lost in his own thoughts and feels as if he’s drowning in a pool of anxiety and stress that it’s causing him to hurt other people and that’s not who he is or wants to be. He needs help un-muddling his mind and seeing things more clearly and there’s only one person who can do that for him.

Everything happens in a blur as he steps into the elevator, not remembering even hitting the down button as he frantically thumbs at his screen until he finally lands on the name he’s looking for. He looks up just as the doors open on the ground floor of your building and the moment he walks out of the small space he hits the call icon and brings the phone up to his ear while he heads towards the front entrance of your complex. It’s darker outside than it was when he first got to your apartment, a sign that he sat outside your door for at least a few hours and stood there a good bit after you told him he couldn’t come inside.

“Harry?” He doesn’t even realize he was holding his breath until he feels his lungs release a deep exhale as soon as her voice floats through the receiver and into his ears after a few rings, he doesn’t miss the slight scratchiness to it letting him know she was probably asleep before he decided to call.

“What’s wrong?” Of course she asks that, of course she knows there’s something wrong. It’s only then that Harry feels as if all the events of the past few weeks from you first contacting him about being pregnant to the exam this morning hit him and his eyes begin to sting and his heart feels as if it’s going to beat out of his chest.

“Mom I-I.” He starts to talk but then has to stop and take a few deep breaths to try to calm himself down but it’s pointless as he feels tears begin to gather at his waterline and his lungs feel as if they can’t take in enough air all of a sudden. “I don’t know-know what to-to do.” He manages to get out between shaky breaths as he stops walking when he spots a bench and that’s where he finally allows himself to break down, on an uncomfortable wooden bench on a dimly lit street only a few feet from your apartment complex while on the phone with his mom.

362 notes · View notes

princessbrunette · 7 months ago

Text

when did you know you loved me? pt.2/4 ♡

kitty!reader knew she was being a menace when she posed the question. infact, she’d been bothering him with pointless shit all afternoon. she wanted attention, above anything else — and would climb all over him and attack the second she didn’t receive it. jj sat in his home, trying to unwind as he plays on the playstation — and lo and behold, kitty sits half on his lap, poking him whilst he tries his best to focus on the game.

“you hate me. i’ve decided.” the ridiculous statement comes out muffled through laying across jj’s lap with his forearm between your teeth as your boyfriend simply tries to win the battle onscreen. he blinks, lips parted in concentration as he thumbs at the joysticks— acknowledging what you’d said and choosing not to pander.

“yeah? you really think i just let chicks i hate climb all over me like this? you must think i��mma slut or somethin’.” he hums, a little less energetic than his usual chaotic self, but that was due to the intense week the two of you had.

he was used to you, and your often attention seeking ways when you were bored, understimulated, horny or neglected. he liked that about you, that although sometimes it’s hard to tell people what you really want — you’d never shy away from showing him.

“mhm. your other girlfriends.” you grump, and immediately have to hide your victorious smile when you hear the game pause instantly. you knew how to get his attention.

you wriggle into a sitting up position until you’re straddling his thigh, face to face with the boy.

“oh you are walkin’ on some mighty thin ice. y’wanna make those kinda accusations when you are in perfect tickling distance and i happen to know all of your worst tickle spots? mm—mm, bold move.” you sense the jokiness in his tone and know you’re off the hook when you feel his threatening fingers lightly jabbing at your waist, ready to tussle with you.

you flinch, grabbing his hands and shuffle closer on his lap— launching for what you really want.

“pay attention to me jj.” you whine, and even you knew you were being annoying. despite this, there’s a patience to him, one he only shows you. where demands from anyone else might cause jj to rage, he has endless reassurance for you.

“im payin’ attention to you right now, mama.” he reminds kindly and you soften a little, the gentle tone he only used on you tugging at your heart strings. swept up in a wave of affection, you throw your arms around his neck once more, sinking your teeth into his neck.

“um, ow?”

“aww, you do love me!” you coo, and to this the boy raises an eyebrow. placing two hands on your shoulders, he peels you off him so that you sit face to face, his eyes dancing between your own in concern.

“woahwoahwoah—wait a second. were you actually questioning whether or not i loved you? ‘cus you know i’d rather stick a bomb up my ass and light it than be with anyone else, right? tell me you know that.”

“i knooow, jj.” you roll your eyes, thinking for a moment before peering up at him through smudged black liner. “when did you know?”

the blonde blinks, a little dumb.

“when did i know… what exactly?”

“when you loved me. i wanna know everything. the exact moment you knew.”

he reclines in the seat now, yanking his black backwards cap off in thought to rake a hand through matted hair, sighing in thought as he thinks back to the start of your relationship. with the action, his matching black t-shirt rides up just a tad, and you take the opportunity to drag your clawed hand up along the sensitive skin beneath his belly button. he flinches, muttering an “easy.” before settling on a memory.

“a’ight so… it’s pretty random. n’don’t judge me but i think we’d only known eachother for like, pro’lly two weeks.”

you launch forward excitedly, getting in his face with a big and excited grin.

“tell me now.”

“alright alright, back up a little kittycat, damn.” he commands casually, readjusting you on his lap for his own comfort before delving into the memory. “‘kay so it was the first time you’d tagged along with me n’the pogues. i was kinda nervous, not gunna lie ‘cus like — i thought they were gonna say somethin’ to put you off or whatever… but anyway, the cops rolled up on us, as they always do, never mindin’ their own damn business…” he rambles and you shuffle excitedly on his lap.

“i remember that day.”

“right, so you’ll remember i had that glock — the one i definitely shouldn’t have had, n’it was all tucked into my waistband… and like, i was already in trouble with the cops, so i could not get caught with that thing on me right? i didn’t wanna get arrested infront of you.”

you follow along with your own memory, however your recount of this day was hazed by how aroused you were by the sight of him with the gun tucked so casually into his pants, walking around with an attitude, willing to whip it out at any moment to protect you. you recall riding jj into the bed that same evening because of it.

“mhm…” you encourage him along.

“so we had like — five seconds to spare, and you just turned to me, grabbed the gun, n’shoved it into that ugly ass purse i used to rag on you about.” he grins at the thought and you lean back, caught on the small offensive detail.

“ugly purse? what ugly purse? the fuck?” you crinkle your eyebrows and he waves a hand.

“oh like, the one that looks like a pair of titties?”

“my corset purse? i love that purse! jj!” you frown and he rolls his eyes, placing two hands on your cheeks to focus you.

“whatever okay, i love you and your titty bag. the fact is… you hid my gun for me, and i remember lookin’ at you and thinking ‘damn… this girl ain’t scared of nothing.’” the lighthearted tone of his storytelling moulded into something more sincere, something so rare from JJ — a satisfied smirk etched into his features.

a slow smile spreads across your own as you bat your spiky black lashes at the blonde. “and that’s when you knew?”

he leans in, eyes now on your lips. “oh that’s when i knew alright, baby.” he retaliates, before pulling you in for the kiss.

#8k celebration ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ 𐙚 ა #div by pommecita #jj maybank prompt #kitty!reader

414 notes · View notes

eggcats · 9 months ago

Text

Radioapple fic, where after it's revealed that Pentious was redeemed, Heaven sends some angels (including some of Lucifer's own family) down to check out this Hazbin Hotel. (common fic theme)

And Lucifer is STRESSED. He hasn't seen any of his family in millennia, and they absolutely did not part on good terms. Especially because now he has to make as good of an impression as he can because he will NOT be the cause of Charlie's dreams failing.

Anyway, one of Lucifer’s estranged family arrives and they have absolutely NOTHING good to say about the hotel, it's people, or even hell itself. Insulting the decor, how it looks, being like "You got kicked out for free will and THIS is what they do with it? Ugh." and the like.

Lucifer is trying to keep himself together for Charlie's sake. (He's only had 3 breakdowns today, he's doing good!)

However, the last thing he expects is Alastor coming to his defense. Alastor looks at this shitty relative of Lucifer’s and is immediately like, "How DARE you? Antagonizing this angel is MY JOB, and I don't send him into hysterics, I send him into MUSICAL NUMBERS. Get out of my hotel immediately." But, obviously, he can't SAY that (for many reasons, the least of which is that Charlie needs them here for her redemption project).

So instead, he just picks at everything they say. "Hmmmmm, yes, but we at least chose to do this with this, free will you're insulting. What's your excuse for that eyesore youre wearing, hmmm?"

Alastor goes as far as to defend Lucifer’s choices in decor in the hotel, and Lucifer is completely confused because he and Alastor literally fought the day before about that SAME decor??

(The second the angel leaves Alastor turns to him and goes "They're right, you know, that is the ugliest interior design I've ever seen," and then DISAPPEARS before Lucifer can even respond. What the hell?!)

Alastor is not ignorant of toxic family dynamics, and while part of his initial issues with Lucifer stemmed from his belief in him being a deadbeat father, actually knowing him kind of changes his thoughts on this. It's a little telling that Charlie has been (apparently) attempting to contact her mother during her 7 year disappearance and has heard nothing, but the father who (she believed) thinks she's a failure shows up within an hour of her calling him ONCE. And then he does whatever he can to help her dreams, and the second she implies she wants him around more, he MOVES IN. It's kind of hard to continue thinking that LUCIFER is the toxic parent in the family dynamic, after all this.

(He still fights him, though, because it's fun to tell the most powerful being in hell his choice of interior design is ugly. If Alastor kind of doesn't go for the throat in all of Lucifer’s insecurities anymore, no one needs to acknowledge that.)

So, during the entire Heaven tour, Alastor is strongly in the "form a united front" boat. He can and WILL come out of the shadows for a sarcastic quip that simultaneously shuts them down AND makes Lucifer feel better.

(Alastor will NOT acknowledge the anger that goes through him at the idea of someone other than him picking at Lucifer, especially when they are CLEARLY trying to send him into a breakdown. How dare they. *cough* Anyway.)

So the whole ordeal winds up not as stressful as Lucifer was dreading, because somehow he has an antagonistic cannibal deer defending him the entire time. And Lucifer has no idea HOW that happened, but it does kind of make him feel better. (And Alastor's form of mocking him does, too, somehow.)

When they're alone, however, Alastor still picks at him so they can fight. (And Lucifer didn't notice until now how much FUN he has fighting with Alastor, and that Alastor insulting him makes him want to do better and prove him wrong, unlike his visiting family that makes him want to lock himself away for a decade.)

The tour ends, and Alastor and Lucifer go back to how they were before. (Sort of. Lucifer might be re-evaluating every interaction they've ever had and might send himself into a mild crisis.)

#hazbin hotel #radioapple #alastor #lucifer morningstar #duckiedeer #hazbin alastor #hazbin lucifer #fic #mine #long post #Alastor seeing someone else making fun of Lucifer: how DARE you thats MY job and youre not even DOING IT RIGHT get out of my hotel now

606 notes · View notes

etherealily · 8 months ago

Text

𝙒𝙃𝙄𝙋𝙇𝘼𝙎�� // Nate Jacobs.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Dark. SFW, but discretion advised.

Part 2 : 9 Lives

Part 3 : Blessed

Part 4 : Shards

Part 5 : Eighteen

Part 6 : Sin

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc.: You're needed. Now.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

It's not like you even knew Nate.

You knew of him, sure, quarterback and shit, but still, it was unlikely your paths would ever cross.

Until they did.

Until he started following you on Instagram.

That shit... was so unbelievably odd that you almost blocked him because you thought it was a fake account. But then you saw the mutuals. Holy shit. This was legit.

The fact that his account was private didn't surprise you. Yours was public because you had nothing to post and his was private because he had everything to hide.

You sent him a request. No biggie. I mean, he had to accept, right? He was the one who followed you first - it was only fair. And if it took too long, then you could always unsend it, yeah? Yeah.

It didn't take too long. It barely took three minutes.

Okay. Cool. Weird but cool.

The next day at school, it was normal. You didn't acknowledge him, and he didn't acknowledge you. An average social media interaction. Good.

--------

Come Friday evening, you decided that watching Maddy cheer was a little less important than your deadline and building your portfolio.

She absolutely supported you (rolled her eyes and said 'whatever, nerd. You still love me, right?') but was a little upset about it (pouted and called you a cunt).

Three hours went by, and you surprised yourself with the amount of work you were getting done. This is great. Friday evening well spent. Work a bit more, and then-

Nate Jacobs tagged you in a Close Friends story.

Close Friends? Tagged? NATE JACOBS?

Okay, one : no fucking way were you on his Close Friends.

Two : there were virtually zero pictures of the two of you, so tagging you was moot.

Three : there was supposed to be a game starting about fifteen minutes from now, Blackhawks versus whatever pretentious team they were going to beat, so why the fuck was he even online?

(Oh, yeah, the Blackhawks were absolutely fucking awesome.)

The story was only text. Text and nothing more.

Y/N, accept my message request. Now. I am not fucking around.

What message request? WHAT the fuck was going on?

You frowned, immediately scrolling over to messages. Shit. There was a request.

A picture, along with six other messages.

This was so strange. It was especially strange that he found the time to text you, when he was supposed to be practicing throwing the old pigskin around for the victory of his school. But text you he did. As if him following you wasn't enough to give you whiplash. "Yo."

"You're not here." No shit, Sherlock.

"You should be."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? This was the most excruciatingly awkward interaction you'd ever had.

"You should be here. Come."

Did he think he was super macho with all this mysterious, vague, one-word bullshit he was spewing? You know what, you'd actually bet your entire school tuition he did. But you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of asking why.

"U don't just send requests to random people. Don't act like you don't know me. Don't ignore my texts."

"I'm fucking losing it. Come now or else."

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

This was the most random thing to ever happen to you. Nate Jacobs, some random jock you never even said one word to, was texting you as if you had been best friends since two years old and you had always been all rah-rah-go-team for him.

You were almost scared to open the picture. Instagram asked you if you were sure. Once, twice. You should have listened. But you didn't, and you were about to face the consequences.

Red. That was the first thing you saw, and the first thing that had ever grossed you out enough to physically throw your phone away.

So much red.

Above the red, concealed almost cruelly, was a black box with white text in it. For a moment, your eyes were overwhelmed, so overwhelmed with the monstrosity in front of you that you couldn't even begin to comprehend what the words meant. You picked your phone back up, squinting your eyes and blocking out the rest.

He must have noticed you accepted his request, because you saw 'Typing...' pop up way too fast for him not to have been waiting.

"I'll cut deeper if you don't show up."

Nate Jacobs was a cruel and manipulative bastard of a man who you would happily let die.

But not like this.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

You glanced at the screen and then back at the road, from time to time. There was no indication that he was typing. The 'online' sign still stayed. Okay. So he either just threw his phone away while still on your chat or he was about to-

Nate Jacobs started an audio call.

Clearly tonight wasn't going to be the night you stayed in and finished all your assignments, like you'd decided.

"Pick up or I'll fucking kill you."

Yup, that sounded about right.

You laughed, incredulously. The genuine threat wasn't lost on you, but what else does one do in this situation besides laugh at the absurdity of it all?

Better safe than sorry. You swiped up.

"Y/N, please just come."

It felt so weird to hear him say your name. It felt even weirder to hear him say 'please'.

"Why?"

"You need to be here." His voice was unwavering.

"Look, Jacobs, I'm sorry, but I have projects and assignments to work on. Not to mention, my portfolio-"

You wanted to see how far you could take it. He couldn't hear your car's sounds, and he couldn't possibly track your location, so according to him, you were still sitting at home, petulantly.

If he was joking, he'd just cuss you out drunkenly. If he wasn't, he'd... keep begging.

"Jesus fuck, Y/N, just come!"

"I can't. I'm sorry."

Keeping your calm was the best thing you'd ever done for yourself, the greatest form of self-care you could give yourself, because Nate Jacobs sensing nervousness was like sharks smelling blood in the water. Quick and bad.

"I have important shit, too, you know? Scouts are here, Y/N, please!"

"Look-"

"Coach, I know, just five more minutes - FUCK, Y/N, you gotta come.", he pleaded, his tone becoming far too pathetic to brush off.

"Why?"

"Why? Whaddayamean why?", he huffed out, frustrated, as if you were supposed to know this already.

2 + 2. What galaxy we live in. The colour of the sky. Why you were needed at the game. According to this asshole, all these things were common knowledge.

"I will cut deeper."

"Stop bullshitting, Jacobs."

You hoped to god that your voice didn't betray your bewilderment. This better be a sick fucking joke.

"I'm cutting."

"Stop."

"Coach says the five minutes are up, but I won't play without you here."

A video. SHIT. FUCK.

"What the fuck is your problem?!"

Actually, no. This better not just be a joke, because if the entire school was in on this shit, you would end up cutting him.

The grunts of pain and sharp inhales from his side of the call got more and more grotesque as you pulled into the school parking lot.

The school had an unsettling vibrancy to it after hours, and this was only exacerbated by the fact that you were supposedly the cause for a boy to slice through his own skin. It shouldn't have seemed this vibrant, this overwhelming, this vivid, this.... bright, but it did. The world moved at an eerily quick pace, like a carnival ride on LSD.

As you ran across the parking lot and gripped the gate to the stadium and basically swung right past it, you finally realized how fucking loud a crowd could be.

It was like they knew that their QB might be bleeding out because of you, because they seemed to scream loud enough to torture you for eternity.

Immediately manhandled by Chris McKay -another jock you had absolutely no connection to, but who seemed to have a very personal grudge against you-, you were pushed out of the locker rooms as quickly as you came in. Fuck's sake.

"Let me go , McKay!"

"Coach is trying to calm him down, and if he sees you, we got no idea what he might do, okay? OKAY?", he ordered, sternly, through clenched teeth as he shook your shoulders.

He was earnestly trying to be calm and gentle, but his fingers gripping harder and harder into your arms did jackshit to help his case.

"Okay."

He nodded, sighing in some emotion that seemed oddly like relief.

What, did he expect more of a fight? Did he expect you to be all 'no, I gotta see him now?'

You had no clue who the hell this bastard was, let alone what he wanted. No way were you going to kick and shout for him.

"What the fuck is his problem?", you asked, sighing against McKay's chest, exhausted.

He shrugged, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. "He's stressed about the game."

"So he cuts himself in my name? We don't even know each other, dude!"

"Okay, he isn't exactly the one you go to for rationality, alright?"

"Yo, the fuck's going on, man? The game was supposed to start-"

The other team's captain.

"Yeah, we're just, uh, dealing with a situation over here.", assured McKay, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from going ballistic at Nate. Or you. Most likely Nate. But even more likely you. "Tell your coach we're so sorry, and we'll be out in a minute, tops."

The other guy scoffed, grumbling as he stomped away, glaring more at you than McKay. What, did everyone know now?

"He thinks we're trying to hook up before the game.", explained McKay, patiently, almost embarrassed. "It's a thing some athletes do, 'for luck'."

Jocks were the weirdest fucking aliens to ever exist.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

Crimson traced paths through the blinding white of the bandages wrapped tightly like dependent vines around his palm. Noticing the lack of uniformity of white, Coach tsked. "We need more. McKay!"

"Yes, Coach?"

"One more, then you can send her in."

"She came?" Nate's voice, though feeble and exhausted - and now, hopeful - was heard through the tiny gap in the door that McKay made sure would remain tiny as he passed the last bandage to him, and you didn't want to admit it, but it broke your heart.

Ew. Nate Jacobs was breaking your heart?

Coach finished wrapping Nate up, and McKay guided you in, with both measured aggression and protectiveness.

Nate's eyes lifted and brightened up immensely, a feat you'd only thought possible by a lone spark igniting and breaching every inch of a dry leaf.

"You came."

"Son, I don't know what the hell you were thinking-"

"No, no, Coach, she's here, we can play."

Everyone stopped breathing at that moment. What the hell did the self-wounding quarterback asshole just say?

"What'd you just say, Jacobs?"

"We can play. Y/N's here. This isn't my good palm, anyway, so it's fine. Let's go."

And just like that, Nate was back. The amount of theses that could be written on this sheer anomaly of a man, the amount of studies that could be conducted, the amount of shock anyone else in this situation would go through- all unheard of.

No one else could handle it, though, besides all the people right there in the room. The best friend : self-taught and well-versed in handling him, the Coach : the authority figure that could calm him down with a bunch of fatherly words and....

And you : no one knew what the fuck you brought to the table. But something told you no one else would have survived in your shoes.

"Alright... then...?" Even Coach was absolutely speechless.

Nate nodded briskly, shooting up with a sudden burst of energy as he smiled at you.

Smiled.

Ladies and gentlemen : Nate Jacobs was on crack, confirmed.

He drew you in against his chest with an extremely unprecedented jerk, and you locked eyes with McKay behind him as he did so.

Not crack. Probably fent.

Your questioning gaze- which obviously said 'what in the everloving fuck is he doing?' - was met with a shrug and a look which suggested he barely even recognized his best friend right now.

"Okay, let's go WIN this motherfucker!", shouted Nate, patting your shoulder and loudly clapping his hands together before sprinting out of the locker rooms into the cheering football field.

It was dressed entirely in Blackhawk colours and bathed in a fluorescent, sickeningly pale light that you had to now spend an hour and a half in. Ugh.

Whiplash or not, you were about to throw up.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

You know those moments after a surreal event? When you just... sit. Stare into space and... ruminate.

You were having one of those in your car. The game had ended, really well, too, with the Blackhawks winning by a landslide. Your windshield had never held such secrets before. You stared through it.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Bang.

You turned. Nate Jacobs' fist fell on your window more times than you thought was necessary. 'Unlock the door, Y/N.'

You shook your head. Not a fucking chance in hell.

"'Y/N, don't be difficult, unlock the fucking door."

Something in you told you that that would be the worst mistake of your entire life.

"I'm sorry, I just want to talk, yeah?"

You had no idea if he deliberately made it a point to rest his bandaged palm on the window in full display to manipulate you, or if it was just a coincidence.

Just a coincidence, right?

You sighed, nodding your head in the direction of the passenger's seat as you unlocked it. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He slid in, grinning as he shut the door.

"You catch the touchdown?"

"Yeah. I did."

"What'd you think? Smoothest match yet?"

"Sure."

His grin gave way to a lour as he scoffed. "Why are you so cold? Our school won."

"Why am I so cold? Why am I so cold? You asshole, you just cut yourself to make me show up!"

"Because you didn't show up when I asked nicely!"

"You're a psychopath." The effect of this word on him was oddly intriguing. He seemed to both be offended by it and seemed to get off on it.

"Can I just explain?", he sighed, sucking on his teeth for a moment as he watched other students, cheering, whistling, hooting and drinking, through your windshield.

You gestured at him to continue. He wasn't worthy enough of your words.

"You know athletes have...", he trailed off, searching desperately for the right word of vindication.

"Small dicks?"

"Okay, deserved.", he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Look, we have, like... superstitions, sometimes. For luck."

"Like the hooking up thing."

"How do you know about that?"

"McKay told me."

He scoffed, shaking his head as if his friend had divulged the biggest secret, as if he had broken some moral code.

"Alright, fine, whatever. But, uh, I pretend like it's not something I do, but I kinda have them too."

If he was about to say what you thought he was going to, you were about to press into the wound just to watch him bleed again. How dare he.

"My, um, my first game, I bumped into you on my way to the locker rooms.", he admitted, clearing his throat as if to clear space for whatever he was going to say - because it was so obviously the solution to String Theory, like he was making it out to be.

But oh, shit. He actually was going to say it.

"And we won. The next game, I did the same again, by accident. Y'know, just, this time, I fist-bumped you."

"When the fuck did you-"

"You were drunk, and you were cheering all of us on with your friends. You went for McKay's fist, but I did it instead. Uh, yeah, anyway. So, from the... maybe fourth? Yeah, the fourth game, I made it a point to at least brush my arm past you. Haven't lost a game since."

Your touch was his good luck charm? Was he clinically insane? Or was he just a massive loser?

"What's next? Our rising signs are aligned?"

"It's not a fucking joke, Y/N!", he snapped, his fist clenching.

"Really? Because it's pretty fucking hilarious."

"You know how hard it was for me to even admit I had superstitions, let alone about some random nobody girl I've never even talked to?"

No, no, he was not trying to make you feel bad, no goddamn way.

"You know how hard it was for me to see some random nobody guy bleeding out because of me?"

"It wasn't that deep." The pun was intended. It was so evidently intended that you wanted to slap the smirk off his lips.

"Yeah, okay, get out."

"Okay. You better show up to the next one, babygirl, or I'll have to take more drastic measures."

The audacious son of a bitch ruffled your hair and winked before he left.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

"C'mon, Y/N, don't be a cunt. Just do it. High five me. Fist bump me. Hug me. Whatever. Just do it, I've got a game to get to. And... everyone's watching."

The very next weekend, there was another game. Last game of the season. And you were supposed to be there, of course, because Nate's 'entire life depended on it.' And what's worse? He'd dragged you there, from your internship.

That's right. He'd basically come to your place of work, interrupted a conversation with your boss, and tugged you along with him because of his borderline insane obsession with having to touch you for luck.

He could have gotten away with it, too, if his 'good luck charm' theory hadn't involved you having to make contact with him right before the game.

And now you were out there on the field. Backing away from him. Refusing.

"Y/N, please."

"Fine."

You slapped him across the face, as hard as you possibly could.

The entire football field gasped.

He'd fucked up your week with the picture of the blade carving into his skin, and now, he was fucking up your career by costing you your internship. And what's worse, he didn't even care.

"Go. Play now."

He clenched his jaw, closing his eyes to suppress his rage before he opened them again. "That's not how it works. It has to be mutual. Like a fist bump. Or bumping into each other."

"Oh, okay.", you shrugged, grabbing his wrist before using it to uppercut him. "NOW go. PLAY."

You didn't know if you were being 'whoo'd or 'boo'd by the crowd, but at this point, the only thing you could hear was the red hot fury in your boiling blood.

He bit his lip as you let go of his hand, and before he jogged out onto the field, you could have sworn he said something that, if you'd heard it right, could cut through your entire soul and ruin your self-perception for years - something absolutely, shatteringly degrading.

You hoped you'd heard wrong.

Taking your seat in the stands, you scrolled on your phone, ignoring the entire fucking game. As expected, text from your team leader.

Gone. Internship gone. LoR gone. Nate Jacobs? About to be gone.

-------

He won.

He. Fucking. Won.

And that smirk that he gave you before blowing you a kiss that immediately morphed into flipping you the bird made you want to genuinely ask him to recreate that video once again.

You hated yourself for it, but yes.

You wanted him dead.

All the trauma he'd given you the past week couldn't be left unpunished.

Oh, to knock him off his pedestal. OH, to be the one to make him scream in pain instead of arrogant mirth.

"Whoo! Nate FUCKING Jacobs, baby!", he cheered in your ear as you gritted your teeth, walking back to your car. "And, of course, you."

You threw your bags into your car, ignoring him as you get in, starting the engine. He thumped on the hood of the car. "Come on, you can't still be mad! Your boss was looking down your shirt, anyway!"

"Oh, and I'm supposed to believe you did this out of the goodness of your heart?", you scoffed.

"That's right, baby, chivalry ain't dead."

"No, but you're about to be. Get the fuck out of my way."

"Hey, I need a ride. Gimme a lift."

"No chance in hell, Jacobs."

"Stop wounding me. Let me in."

"Or what?"

"I'll break your window.", he shrugged, casually. Normal things. The sun will rise tomorrow. Seasons will change. He'll break your window.

"I wouldn't be letting you in if I didn't think you were psychotic enough to actually do that."

He chuckled, sitting as he rested his duffle bag on his lap. A couple moments later, he looked up at you. "What? What are you waiting for?"

"Tell me where to go."

"You don't know where I live?"

"Okay, let me explain this to you, slowly. I didn't know jackshit about you till, like, a week ago. I didn't know your age or what kind of car you drove, or even what classes we shared, much less where the hell you live!"

"All this shit just proves that you don't observe people around you. You only care about yourself."

"If I only cared about myself, you'd have bled out last week."

He sighed playfully, resting his feet on your dashboard because he very evidently knew you would have a neurotic breakdown. "I, for one, know your age, the kind of car you drive, all the classes you have, plus your favourite colour and food."

"The first two are moot.", you replied, ignoring his silent mockery of the word 'moot'. "Next, you know I'm in all of Maddy's classes. And the rest you can find on my account. Account stalker."

"Account stalker. God, sweetheart, you're such a child. You don't want your account stalked, don't have a public one."

"I barely even post anything!"

"Oh, yeah, what about last month?"

He was looking at your profile last month? "I'd gone to France. It was a photo dump."

"It was unnecessary."

"Okay, you know what this is?"

He raised a brow.

"This is post-game audacity, is what I call it. You won. You're Mr. Big Shot, so you think you can just-"

And that's when Nate Jacobs kissed you.

To call it the worst fucking moment of your life would be a massive understatement. "Drive."

"You did not just fucking kiss me."

"You want me to do it again?"

"NO."

"Then drive."

This motherfucking bastard of a man!

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

"You wanna come in?"

No way in hell were you going into Nate Jacobs' house. Especially when there was a party going strong.

"I'm good."

He rolled his eyes, his arm leaning on the top of the window as he leaned in. "I don't bite. Initially."

"Ooh, you don't bite initially, oh, please let me come in right now! Shut up and get in, Jacobs."

"You've earned the right to call me Nate. Congrats. Begin using it."

"Why? We're never talking after this."

He scoff-snickered. "Oh. OH, so that's how it is.", he nodded, amused.

"Yeah, yeah, that's how it is."

He guffawed, banging on the hood of your car. "This ain't funny anymore. Come in."

"What? No."

"Is there really only one way to ask you to do something?"

"No, Jacobs, don't you dar-"

But he didn't listen. When did he ever? His fingers emerged from his pocket with his knife in tow. NOT AGAIN. This was the most cunning, calculating, manipulative, Machiavellian-

"I'm cutting. This time, my wrist."

"You're so fucking dumb, y'know that? You're psychopathic."

The grin on his face showed that you were wrong. He wasn't offended. He was 100% getting off on it.

Drops of blood reached the floor, and you realized you couldn't just drive off and leave this guy here - he'd probably still be cutting just to prove a point.

"I hope you die.", you mumbled, getting out of your car and slamming the door.

"I'm trying, dude!", he laughed, pointing at his wrist. Oh, this sick bastard.

"Not dressing that wound?"

"C'mon, blood is sexy. Badass."

Nate Jacobs was about to see how 'badass' blood could really get.

And when you were done beating the everloving shit out of him, you kissed him. Because he deserved to know how infuriating that shit was, too.

The next day at school, it was normal. You didn't acknowledge him, and he didn't acknowledge you.He didn't seem to care about the fact that you hit him so hard he almost had a concussion. An average social media interaction. Good.

How it should be.

But then he texted you.

Fuck.

760 notes · View notes