#fucking hell it’s been a long time since I’ve had a meltdown but this is fucking pushing it

[61below]

Brain: oh this weighted blanket? That’s niiiice.

Also brain: PT homework = compression socks? I’m mean ok I guess, I can tell it’s helping.

*three days of compression socks later* I CAN HEAR THE ELECTRICITY IN THE WALLS AND FEEL EVERY SPECK OF CLOTHING, THIS IS COMPLETELY UNACCEPTABLE GOOD LUCK REMEMBERING ANYTHING ELSE BC WE ARE SHUTTING D O W N

[coolstoriesbro]

FOR THE ONES WE LOVE | CH. 1

FANDOM: The Walking Dead

SERIES: For the Ones We Love

STATUS: Ongoing

ERA: Prison

PAIRING: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Female Reader (No Use of “Y/N”)

CHAPTER ONE: Backseat Driver

WORD COUNT: 2k

SUMMARY: Daryl Dixon gets much more than he bargained for when his motorcycle breaks down while out on a run. Miles from the prison, he has no other choice but to hot-wire a car he comes across on the side of the road, only to discover that he wasn’t the first person to get there.

RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: Language, Mention of Attempted Sexual Assault, Symptoms of PTSD

A/N: While I’m not new to writing fanfic, this is my first attempt at Tumblr fanfic, which is somewhat different than what I’m used to. I have a whole backstory dreamed up for this character (she’s a nursing student who escaped from Grady Memorial after it was overtaken by Dawn and Gorman), but I know from what I’ve read of Tumblr fanfic, self-insert fics are preferred. This is my first attempt at that, so any constructive criticism is welcome. Please let me know your thoughts on the story as well. I have several chapters already written, just trying to decide what format to proceed with/if there’s an audience for it.

“Wow, thanks for that.”

At the sound of an unfamiliar voice coming from behind him, Daryl Dixon’s eyes flew to the rearview mirror as you sat up from where you’d been lying in the backseat of the car he’d just hot-wired. The all too familiar noise of a hammer clicking into place sounded as you lifted your arms, aiming a revolver directly at the back of his head.

With the way you trained the gun on him, combined with the intense gaze in your eyes, he knew that you’d shot it before.

Of course you had.

A woman, alone in this world?

There was no way in hell you could’ve survived as long as you had not knowing how to use a gun.

Daryl cut the engine and raised his hands. “This your car?”

You shrugged. “No, but I was here first.”

“I got it runnin’; makes it more mine than yours.”

“I was getting to that.” You said defensively.

“Bullshit.” Daryl scoffed. “Ya don’t know how to hot-wire a car.”

“How do you know?”

“‘Cause ya ain’t that kinda girl.”

The stranger’s assumption pissed you off, but what pissed you off even more was the fact that he was right. Before he came along, you’d been close to having a full-on meltdown when finding the car just a few minutes earlier, only to discover that the keys were missing from the ignition. There’d been a hell of a lot of abandoned cars that you’d passed during your travels over the past couple of weeks, because apparently even after a goddamn apocalypse, nobody left their keys behind.

And who was he to pass judgement on you? With his Harley Davidson vest, greasy hair and the ability to steal a car in the first place — this guy was lucky you’d given him any warning at all. Although you hadn’t spoken to another human being since escaping the hospital, and were beginning to think you were missing even the most trivial of conversations, you had quickly come to the conclusion that human interaction was entirely overrated.

Especially with this particular human.

“How the hell do you know what kind of girl I am?” You practically growled.

Daryl hesitated, knowing that he ought to tread lightly, yet somehow his mouth decided to run off anyway. “Just do.”

Your eyes widened as you lunged forward to press the barrel of the gun to the back of his skull. “You don’t fucking know me.”

Dumbass, Daryl scolded himself.

What was he thinking, arguing with someone who was pressing a loaded gun to his head? After all this time spent fighting to survive, did he have a death wish all of a sudden?

With his hands still raised, Daryl nodded, his senses finally returning to him. “We can change that. I’m Daryl.”

Suddenly, a memory of your mother warning you not to talk to strangers appeared as the man introduced himself, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. After a few seconds, you lowered your gun and laughed out loud, no longer able to keep it inside.

The entire situation was absurd. You were running on zero sleep, hadn’t eaten anything in days, and hadn’t spoken to another soul since you’d left Atlanta. It was the most inappropriate thing in the world to be laughing in your current situation, and yet you couldn’t stop.

Daryl hesitated. He thought he might be okay at handling a pissed off woman — but a crazy, pissed off woman?

Might as well shoot myself now.

“Ya crazy or somethin’?” Daryl found himself asking.

You laughed harder at his question, leaning against the backseat as your sides started to ache. “Or something.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Ya gotta name or not?”

Once regaining your composure, you peered over the passenger seat and noticed the large crossbow that he’d laid down while working on getting the car started. You also noted the backpack slung over his shoulder with several arrows sticking out through the flap. “Give me your arrows and any other weapons you have. Maybe I’ll tell you then.”

“Don’t wanna know that bad.”

“Hah.” You rolled your eyes, aiming the revolver at his head once more. “Wasn’t asking.”

With an irritated grumble, Daryl shrugged off his bag and handed it over. There was a brief pause while he rummaged around in his pants and pulled out a pistol, extending it to you handle first.

“No knife?” You asked suspiciously. 

He cursed under his breath, but a few seconds later you had a hunting knife to add to your collection as well. Finally satisfied, you met his eyes in the rearview mirror and told him your name.

“You alone?”

“Looks like it.”

The silence between the two of you clung in the air like smoke. Daryl kept his eyes glued to you now that you had all of his weapons, minus his crossbow, which was useless without the bolts. 

He didn’t pride himself on much, but one of the few things that he’d always felt he excelled at was being a good judge of character. The woman in front of him was young, probably mid-twenties, and pretty. In Daryl’s experience, pretty women were absolute bitches, but not necessarily dangerous. Even so, he couldn’t brand you with that particular title just for pulling a gun on him. You were only protecting yourself.

“Mind lowerin’ that thing? I did give ya all my weapons.” Daryl reasoned.

You paused, but reluctantly lowered your gun, your eyes locked on his as you sat it down on your lap.

“How’s that?” You asked.

“Depends, can I turn around without havin’ to worry ‘bout ya blowin’ my head off?”

You stilled at his words but found yourself slowly nodding your head in agreement.

When Daryl turned all the way around to face you, you held your breath. The last time you’d been this close to a man, it was Gorman, and he had tried to assault you.

The world had been a dangerous place for women far longer than it had been for men. Men may have recently had to learn what it was like to fear strangers now that the world had ended, but it had aways been something to fear for women, which made it twice as frightening these days.

As you studied Daryl, you noticed that he had lighter facial hair than that on his head, and pale blue eyes. With his intense gaze and bare biceps, he had a rugged air about him that you had a feeling he’d always possessed. He seemed like the kind of man who didn’t need an apocalypse to know how to fight for his life.

The two of you remained as you were, staring at each other for a tense moment, sizing each other up and down as you both tried to decide whether or not the other was a threat.

“Lay down.” Daryl grunted.

“What?” You blanched, your hand moving towards the revolver once more.

“Down!” He hissed.

Jumping over the partition dividing the front and back sections of the car, Daryl slid to his knees, tucking himself in the floor space behind the passenger seat, his hands clutching you by the elbows as he pulled you down, tugging your body flush against the backseat cushions.

When Daryl grabbed you, your first thought was a vile one, but your grip around the gun relaxed ever so slightly when he landed beneath you rather than on top of you.

“What the fu—” You cried as you both lurched forward, a series of bangs sounding at the rear of the car. Rather than finish your crude sentence, you cut yourself off when Daryl’s hand covered your mouth. Feeling your jaw tense against his palm, he raised a finger to his lips when his eyes met yours, slowly easing his hand away as a horde of walkers appeared from a clearing in the woods by the side of the road.

You both remained that way for what truly could have been hours, the only sound being your heavy breathing and the groans of the horde as they trudged along either side of the car like cattle. When the noise finally died down some time later, Daryl held a hand out to signal for you to wait, then eased up on his haunches ever so slightly, peering out the front windshield to find that the horde had wandered off up the road.

Once given the all clear, you slowly lifted your body from the backseat, your hand instantly going to the side of your neck as you attempted to work out the kink that had formed there from laying in such an awkward position. 

“Jesus.” You muttered.

Remaining where he was for fear that you’d think he might try something now that he was in close proximity of his weapons, Daryl kept his eyes on you for a few silent seconds.

“Look, I know all about wantin’ to be alone, but no one can make it alone now. You can keep my weapons, even hold your damn gun on me while I drive, but I have a camp a few miles back. My bike broke down, s’why I was lookin’ for a ride, but I can take ya someplace secure. I’m with a group of people back at a prison.”

“A prison? Really?” You asked curiously.

Christ. Was that actual hope in your voice? Had the last year not completely crushed you of that?

“Yeah.” Daryl nodded. “There’s eight of us. Men, women, a boy, and a baby.” Nodding towards his backpack, he continued. “Open it.”

Cautiously moving your hand to his backpack, you unsnapped the top and drew back the flap to reveal several tins of powdered baby formula. Running your fingers over the lids, you hesitated, your eyes slowly returning to Daryl. If this was some kind of trick to get you to come along, it was pretty elaborate.

“I just gotta ask ya three questions first.” He said.

With your curiosity getting the better of you, you shrugged your shoulders. “Go for it.”

“How many walkers ya killed?”

“Walkers? You mean, the living dead freaks that have taken over the world?”

Daryl nodded.

“I don’t know. Who keeps track of that shit?”

Daryl had to admit, at least to himself, you had a point. But it was one of the questions that Rick insisted on asking newcomers, and he wasn’t about to start breaking his rules for anyone.

Seeing that Daryl wasn’t willing to budge on the question, you sighed as you thought about it. “A dozen, at least.”

“How many people ya killed?”

Your mind instantly went to the lifeless eyes of Gorman and Dawn. 

“Two.” You answered, without a hint of remorse.

“Why?” He asked.

You stared at him, expressionless. “I’m a woman and I’ve pretty much been on my own since the world ended. Why do you think?”

Daryl stared right back at you, and in his fierce blue gaze, you knew that he understood you completely. 

“All right, let’s go.”

“That’s it? I passed?” You asked, surprised.

“Looks like it.” He grunted, using your choice of words from earlier and earning a small smile from you because of it.

“Okay.” You agreed. “I’ll ride back here, and I won’t hold my gun on you . . . unless you drive too slow.”

“Pfft.” Daryl scoffed as he climbed back over to the driver’s side and began to work on restarting the car. “Don’t gotta worry ‘bout that.”

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

Charlie's corruption arc ✨😈

aka Broken Crown AU inspired by this post because I’ve been thinking about it intensively. So, I believe Charlie's villain arc would start with a great feeling of relief. Imagine: it's been a week since the final battle; it's been a week when Charlie hasn't been able to sleep at night. Others think she's still grieving, but the truth is different. Every night, Charlie cannot fall asleep because she's trying to cope with the relief she felt the second Adam died. She was the one who at first stopped Lucifer from finishing him, just because killing Adam didn't seem right. But when Niffty actually did it, despite everything, it felt right. It felt good.

After weeks (months?) of looking for a way to stop Adam from committing genocide against her people, after being bullied and humiliated by him, after witnessing how an unjust system enabled his despicable actions while ruthlessly punishing others for far lesser crimes, she finally, for the first time, felt like she had any agency. Just like that, her loved ones were finally safe. They could all breathe again, and all it took was a small act of violence against the person who fully deserved it. This realization changes her. While she doesn't intend to do such things in the future, she can no longer deny that exercising brutal power can be the best solution when dealing with certain kinds of people. This is the very first thing she hides from Vaggie. Not because she's scared of her judgment but because these ideas are so against her own moral values it is simply scary to put them into words.

Maybe I would be capable of killing someone in cold blood. Maybe I'll have to do it one day.

But Adam's dead, so they are safe, right? And she won't ever have to make a choice like that again. That's some reassurance.

And then, Niffty is killed by Lute. Just like that—Lute teleports to Hell by night and slaughters her in revenge because why wouldn't she? Who would have stopped her?

It obviously hits everyone hard—they just lost another friend. But Alastor? Alastor loses his fucking mind. He goes completely feral, yelling at Charlie and blaming her for everything.

What kind of incompetent fool shows their enemy mercy and lets them live long enough to get vengeance? I cannot believe I thought you could be a competent leader. You are just a fucking child. You are all a bunch of idiots.

Charlie goes through a complete meltdown because she knows he's right. If she had the guts to finish Lute or at least asked Vaggie or Lucifer to do so, Niffty would be alive. She's crying, choking on tears; she feels like a hopeless failure, but Alastor does not give her a break. He seems so infuriated she thinks he would kill her. Fortunately, Lucifer and Vaggie intervene. Lucifer puts Alastor back in his place by essentially beating the shit out of him. Vaggie takes Charlie out to calm her down. She insists that if it's anyone's fault, it's hers because she was the one who spared Lute, but Charlie knows that it's a lie. Vaggie would have killed Lute if not for Charlie's convictions. She fails, and she fails all over again, and it seems like she can't escape the evil. It's her responsibility to face it on equal terms. Otherwise, she won't be able to protect her loved ones.

After this incident, both Lucifer and Vaggie insist on kicking Alastor out of the hotel. He's too dangerous, too unpredictable. We can't allow him to treat you like this. We don't even need him anymore; there's nothing an Overlord can do that the King of Hell can't.

But that's not the truth. There's something Alastor can do that Lucifer can't: play the game. And now, grieving another of her friends, Charlie realizes she needs a teacher if she wants to stop pieces.

I have like 0 time to write the proper fic but I had to get these out of my system because holy shit I love coming up with elaborate plots I'm not able to execute. Maybe talking about it will somehow scratch the itch.

Also tagging @purrpleowl because she expresses her interest in this idea.

[kores-pomegranate]

I’ve been thinking for a while that I’d like to write down what it feels like when I’m at my worst. I think the human brain, for all of its wonder, does a shit job of hanging onto things, especially things that are painful. I’ve found that I can never quite recall what my body feels like or what thoughts race through my head when I feel very low.

I’m not at my lowest at the moment, but it was recent enough that I can remember pretty well. Last week, my doctor and I came to the agreement that I probably have cyclothymia. Even as a mental health professional, I didn’t know much about it outside of people calling it “Bipolar Lite ™️.” My doctor asked me if I’d ever had consistent relief from my anxiety. The answer to that is “fuck no.” If I feel consistently neutral, that’s about as good as it gets. I never feel consistently *good.* There are moments, here and there. Flashes, sometimes even a week or two at a time where I feel pretty good.

I don’t know if you’ve ever had COVID or chronic bronchitis, but if you have you probably know what it feels like not to be able to take a truly deep breath without sputtering or getting light-headed. That’s how those “pretty good” stretches feel for me. I can’t breathe all the way, I can’t settle. Always, always, a l w a y s there is background static flavored with fear. Justified fear, even. A body tensed waiting for the gun to go off to begin the sprint; all potential energy waiting for my next meltdown or crisis. And the fear is justified because one of the only certainties I can rely on when it comes to my brain is that it will freak the fuck out at some point. It doesn’t matter if everything is fine, it doesn’t matter if I’ve been doing well or taking my medications and going to therapy. I can always count on a meltdown that burns through that potential energy so fast that it brings my functioning to a screeching halt.

Anyway, back to my doctor. I told him, with less flowery language, that I’ve felt that way my whole life with little relief. To my surprise, he looked…relieved? Excited? He told me that he’d been wondering about cyclothymia for me ever since I told him I wasn't sure if one (of my four) anxiety meds was working.

Because, the thing is, it should have been working.

If what I have been experiencing was traditional anxiety, the cocktail of medications I was on should have knocked it out. And I definitely should not have had breakthrough panic attacks, self harm relapses, or roller coasters of SI.

My doc took my pulse which was sitting at around 150. He looked alarmed and took it three more times. He confirmed that I'd taken all of my meds. And then, he looked determined. He told me he thought I'd benefit from a mood stabilizer that was specifically developed for cyclothymia, to help treat hypomania.

Oh, hypomania. The "less severe" form of manic episodes. It's true, in some regards, I suppose. I don't experience week-long hells where I feel euphoric and invincible and out of control. I don't spend thousands of dollars I don't have on things I don't need. I don't make reckless or dangerous decisions with sex or drugs or food and I don't get psychosis. I'm thankful I don't have to endure those things.

But I don't get the supposed "good stuff" that is supposed to accompany hypomania. I don't get a sudden burst of energy and productivity that compels me to delightedly clean my house or do meal prep. I don't have days where I wake up in a sudden and miraculous good mood that lasts for a few days.

No, I don't get any of that. I get days and moments where my body feels like it is ripped from my control with absolutely no warning. I get, in a matter of seconds, a heart rate that jumps from 65 to 180. A rush of adrenaline that makes my body shake. The sudden and crushing belief that *nothing is okay and I will never be okay." The near incontrollable urge to just r u n a w a y. The urge to self harm. Sometimes actual self harm because feeling anything else would be better than this. Sometimes the urge to just…be gone. Because if this is my life I don't want it anymore.

That is what hypomania is like for me. Feeling as though someone broke into my car and is driving it wherever they want, even though I'm in the backseat losing my shit and fighting to regain control. It's not a fight I ever win. Instead, it's as though the thief gets bored and ditches me and my car in whatever state they put us in.

"See you soon," it always says.

Fear has been the soundtrack of my life for as long as I can remember. Today marks one week of taking mood stabilizers and 0 days since my last hypomanic episode.

I'm happy to still be here. It's nice to feel hopeful, even if I'm really fucking suspicious about it.

And to that car thief I say, "fuck you."

[cafephan]

(realizing from scrolling back 1 (one) post on your blog that the answer is almost certainly yes lol, but I asked cause I wanted to know more about your experience since every show was so unique!)

so my tatinof experience for show one was me bricking it because i had uni in the morning then i had to make an excuse to leave at lunchtime to be back home in time for my friend at the time to pick me up and so we could make it into the show - but once i actually got home and got ready i got so into the swing of things and i remember the people sat in front of me turned around to stare because i started bawling as soon as dnp came on stage :)))) pretty sure i would’ve been subtweeted or posted

ALSO i am 99% certain i heard my username a couple of times, not sure if it’s because i posted i was there idk but it is a core memory - i don’t even know the context it was said in

interactive introverts show one was interesting as my train was delayed and i was convinced i was going to miss the show so the second i got into the train station i just told my friend to run and we ran across a city centre and i remember sagging against the wall outside practically heaving and the queue to get in was so long and people stared again but i did not give a flying damn, as soon as i got seated (and breathing normally) and the show started i started tearing up and my friend had to hold my hand as i got very emotional - i know i sound pathetic i am aware but these guys saved my life and seeing them irl hits me

my SECOND ii show is the biggie - i stayed over in my friend’s uni dorm the night before and the friend i was going to the show with (lily aka phangirlingforphan, long will her memory live on this site) arrived and whilst we were getting ready i posted a fic i wrote the night before as i couldn’t sleep (titled cars and parking lots, in case you want to read lmao) and i had an absolute meltdown on the way to the venue. when we were finally allowed in - WHICH by the way the staff were trying to not let me in and i was like hahahaha nice try i’m vip let me the fuck in - i started using up this bottle of cooling spray i brought from the train station as i both had heat sweats and it was scorching in temperature, when dnp came out i started crying and lily had to fix my makeup in the line, lily started making friends in the queue whilst i just tried not to cry and by the time we got to marianne at the front of the queue my bottle of cooling spray was empty and i just - still crying - set my phone to screen record and made sure lily was also filming it (we filmed for each other) and i had my meet and greet - i was blubbering the entire time and honestly i can’t bring myself to watch the video atm to tell you exactly what was said the whole time as now it makes me cringe but honestly just being in their presence was indescribable for me and yes i am the lamest person ever but i stand by that

i’ve always been a lonely person and have been able to count my friends on one hand so i spent (and continue to spend) most of my time online watching content and dnp got me through so many of my toughest times that i won’t go into but seeing these tours was therapeutic as hell for me and yes i would meet them again in a heartbeat to get a redo as i fucked my meet and greet up by crying the whole time but those tours are so fucking special to me and nobody can take those away

also i again heard my username at the second ii show and refused to turn around - not even sure if they knew it was me but hey ho

[sophie-i-guess13]

Some Photos By A Dumb Hood

based on this headcanon <3

words : 1381

genre : tooth-rotting fluff, proceed with caution

characters: Curly, Angela, Tim Shepard, Sylvia Jackson-Merrill, Buck Merrill, Ponyboy Curtis, Dallas WInston

Tw : N/A

tag!  - @mjmacchio1991 @pepsi-and-cigarettes @the-kneesbees @ralphmaccchiato  @patrickslayze @outsiderslamb @frypansgirl  @unorginalchocolatemilk @jackettslut @johnnycadesjeanjacket @james-fucking-hates-dallas

{honourable mentions: @rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me @mysemantics @xosunshiine] Ask to be added / taken off :)

May 23, 1968

Hey, Mr. Syme. Bet you didn’t think I’d make it this far, did you? It’s okay if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be the only one. Since this is the last assignment I’ll ever hand into you (as if I actually did all those other assignments), I felt like doing something a little different. You suprised yet old man, dumb hood like me doing something original for once? You better be. The photos I’m talking about are in the envelope stuck to the back if you felt like looking at them. Sorry in advance for all the cursing and shit, but you’re probably used to that by now. Thanks for not giving up on me. Tim really appreciates it.

                                 Some Photos by A Dumb Hood 

                                                C. Shepard

I. Sleeping Beauty This is Tim. He’s asleep in the living room, The Twilight Zone was playing on the television when I snuck in past curfew. You taught him a few years ago, if you remember him. He didn’t show up a ton in your class, but that’s just because he was taking care of me and my sister like he’s doing right here. Ignore the stains on the sofa, those are from our folks. Tim doesn’t say he worries about us – or at least he doesn’t say he worries about me. I know he does, though. He complains all the time about how uncomfortable the sofa is every time he falls asleep on it, but he’ll sit there all night if he has to, making sure I get home okay. I’ve never been a great kid. I’ve done, and still do, a lot of stupid shit. I know it makes him worry – only twenty-one and he’s already going gray. But you didn’t hear that from me, man, I’d like to keep my teeth.

II. Ain’t Vanity A Sin? Angela’s about as spoiled as a girl on the east side can be. Joys of being the baby sister, I guess. All she’s gotta do is bat those damn lashes, and she’s got half us guys bending over backwards for her. I can’t remember the first time she left the house with all that makeup on, but Tim was just about as white as the sheets he was airing out on the clothesline outside. He had a long talk with her when she came home - about how even if she looks sixteen, seventeen, maybe even eighteen, she sure as hell ain’t old enough to be doing all the things the other girls are. I told her guys are gross when Tim left her room. She said she already knew that, since she lives with two of ‘em. She was having a meltdown tryna get her eyeliner right in this photo. Took it right before she gave up and asked me to draw the other one. I don’t think she’ll ever ask for my help with make-up again after that.

III. Making Friends + Breaking Bones I broke my arm when I was fourteen, this was the telephone pole that did the damage. It didn’t fall on me or anything, I was tryna show off to Ponyboy Curtis and tried to climb it. I’ve broken plenty of bones (not all were mine), but that hurt the worst. Having the wind knocked outta you when you hit the ground? Jesus Christ, that was a whole different kind of pain. I’m damn lucky Pony’s in track, he ran the whole way back to my house and told Tim what happened. We went over to the Curtises afterwards, all so that their momma could tell me it was too broken to be mended at home. I think this is when Tim stopped coming to school; he had to work pretty hard to pay off all those hospital bills. Ponyboy and I got to talking a lot after that, did a few more stupid stunts together. That’s where he got that scar on his hand, actually, we were playing chicken with our cigarettes. He’s heading off to university this fall. I’m proud of him. All us east siders are. You must be, too. It’s your assignment that made him write that essay after all.

IV. The Yankee I got this picture after a Rumble. I meant to get a picture of Ang and Tim playing nurse to the rest of our gang, but there’s someone else in the left corner, on the couch with a bag of frozen peas to his black eye. That’s Dally. You know about him, that one kid that got shot by the cops after Bob Sheldon died. Tim would die before he ever called Dally a friend, and I’m sure Winston felt the same. I did like him though, and wanted him to like me too. Came all the way from New York, with nothing but a jacket, switchblade, ring and necklace. I tried taking it once, he almost beat me to death in my own front yard. I’m sure Dallas would've killed me if it weren’t for Tim getting between us and calling me a stupid kid who got dropped too many times to know any better. We fought a lot, though nothing ever got as physical as that first one. I don’t think he hated me, even if he said he did. Hell, he’s saved my ass more times than I can count. It’s been three years already, and it still feels weird knowing I’ll never wake up to him on the couch again.

V. Good Morning To You, Too This is Sylvia, Tim’s best friend and Dally’s ex-girlfriend. Before you ask, yes, they’ve gotten into plenty fights over her. She and Angela share a room the nights she comes over. To be honest, I think she’s spent more nights at my place than she has her own. She was screaming like a banshee after I took this, even chased me down the stairs. She’d gone out with some friends the night before, and it was obvious because of the makeup caked under her eyes and how messy her hair was. She lives with us now, her and her daughter, Loretta. After graduation she was seeing this guy, even got an apartment with him. It didn’t last very long though, once he started taking her money and never paying her back. Tim went over one night after she bailed him out and told her the house was always open if she needed it. It’s a little cramped now, but I don’t mind. I got my own room now, Tim took our parents’, and the girls all share since Lori’s crib doesn’t take up much space.

VI. Us East Siders This is the whole clan- Sylvia’s cousin, Buck Merrill, included. The first nice day of May felt like something to celebrate, so we spent the day outside. Tim and me did some handiwork on the house, like cleaning out the gutters and fixing some shingles while Ang and Syl painted their nails and got a head start on their tans. Buck even brought over a shitty little paddling pool for Lori, borrowed the neighbor’s hose to fill it up for her. We all really love that kid. I got this picture once the sun was beginning to set and we were getting ready to call it a night. Saturday nights always mean dinner at the Dingo, after all. You’ve taught just about every kid in this picture, haven’t you, Syme? Bet they must look mighty different. Tim didn’t have that scar, and Syl didn’t have a baby on her lap. I don’t think Angela had her hair cut short, either. But that’s us, I guess, Buck and Tim in the back, wiping sweat off their faces, the girls sitting on the first step. I’ve got plenty of photos of them, but this has gotta be my favorite. Probably because they’re all smiling.

That’s it, huh? The big final English assignment of my senior year. Thanks for being a decent teacher, Syme, I know I didn’t make it easy for you. I’ll see you around, though. You’ll probably be teaching Angela next year (good fucking luck man, you’ll need it), and I know I’m not headed off to college come September. I’m a dumb hood, remember? One that can take some decent fucking pictures, though.

[arrowflier]

I got a prompt for you if you're still taking them? 😊 What if Ian turned out to be the one who hated living on the West Side? I can totally see this happening. Mickey, after all, probably doesn't care that much where he lives as long as Ian is around, and he's used to adjusting his life as stuff happens. Ian might be the one who gets annoyed at judge-y neighbors and expensive groceries and misses the South Side after the shine wears off. I could see this being funny (Mickey being a petty bitch about it) or angsty (Ian feeling guilty since he's the one who pushed the move).

Anyway, love your fics ❤

Ian was quiet on their way back from the store, keeping his eyes on his feet and his hands in the pockets of old, worn jeans.  Mickey carried the two bags of food that had cost them entirely too much, filled with organic fruit and a few staples that should get them through the next week.

"Hey, Enrique," Mickey greeted with a nod as they passed the groundskeeper's nephew, weeding the flower beds next to the entrance of their building. "What're we gettin' this week?"

Enrique waved, sending dirt flying onto the pavement.

"Tulips again," he answered with a grimace.  "Lady in 5C complained about the wildflowers, said they were too "lowbrow".  Whatever that means, am I right?"

Mickey snorted, ready to respond, but Ian stiffened almost imperceptibly next to him.

"Uh, yeah," he said instead.  "Good luck with that, man," and ushered Ian through the door.

Ian stayed quiet and standoffish all the way up the stairs.  He didn't even try to greet the woman they passed going down, some college kid Mickey had seen Ian talk to out by the pool, once.

In fact, Ian said nothing until they got to their own kitchen, and Mickey was halfway through putting their stuff in the fridge.  Until the receipt fell from the bag, and Ian picked it up and read it with a scowl.

"Why did you let me spend this much?" Ian griped, waving the receipt in Mickey's face.  "We can't afford this, Mickey."

"Hey," Mickey said sharply.  "You're the one that wanted all this fancy-ass shit, so don't take it out on me."

Ian sagged against the counter, hands gripping the edge tightly.  His head fell, and he shook it, eyes squeezed shut.

"Shit," he muttered to the floor, then louder, "sorry."

Mickey looked at him.

Then he threw the last unpacked bag of groceries into the fridge whole, slammed the door shut, and stood close enough to his husband to wrap gentle hands around his white-knuckled grip.

"C'mon, Ian," he prodded, tracing fingers over Ian's.  He loosened one hand enough to slip his own underneath, entwining their fingers, and squeezed.

"This ain't about your expensive as fuck fruit, so what the hell is goin' on?"

Ian pushed himself off the counter with his unclaimed hand, and slumped forward, resting his head on Mickey's broad chest.  The lengthening curls on the back of his head bent and swayed with Mickey's breath.

Mickey waited, holding his hand, letting the other touch gently at his back.

Ian mumbled something into his chest.

"What's that?" Mickey asked quietly.  "Couldn't hear you over my husband's meltdown."

Ian laughed, a sad sputtering thing, and lifted his head enough to speak more clearly.

"Fuck you," he said first, and then, "I just really hate it here."

Mickey pulled back.

"Wait a sec," he said flatly.  "You hate it here?"  His brow furrowed as he added, "You're the reason we live here, asshole!"

"I know!" Ian cried, raising a hand to scrub through his hair.  "And I feel bad about that, I do, but Mickey," he paused, eyes pained when they met Mickey's.

"The people that live here are assholes," he said in a stage-whisper, like their neighbors were listening around the corner.  "You heard Enrique--they complained about fucking flowers!"

Mickey watched as Ian straightened, and started pacing.

"And that's just the ones we know," he added with a vague gesture.  "That girl in the stairwell?  She's our neighbor, and I've only met her once."

Mickey bit his lip, and asked, "what does that have to do with--?"

"And the groceries are so expensive here, it's ridiculous!" Ian exploded, and all Mickey could do was laugh.

"What..." Ian floundered.  "What are you laughing about?"

Mickey waved a hand, doubling over to catch his breath.

"That's what I've been saying this whole fucking time!"

He went off again, and by the time he finished, wiping tears from his eyes, Ian looked nothing short of wounded.

"Oh, for the love of..." Mickey started, exasperated.  "What's the problem now?"

"I...I didn't even give you a choice," Ian answered.  "And now we're stuck here, and we both hate it, and--"

"Whoa, Ian, calm down."

"Look, it's ok man," Mickey said, clapping Ian on the shoulder.  "We'll stick out the year, then we'll find someplace more us."

Ian covered his hand with his own.

"And I'll let you pick this time," he started, but Mickey shook his head.

"Nah," he said.  "We'll pick it together." 

He grinned, and kissed Ian quickly on the cheek.  "And we'll scare off any asshole neighbors, too."

Ian chuckled lowly, pulling him back in for a proper kiss.

"Okay," he agreed easily.  "It's a deal."

[evak-fic-rec-turtleanon]

Evak Fics - Pining

I’m posting half of this list first because I started it a long time ago and it’s taking me a while to go through all the fics. So I will update with more later. 

*** Mutual Pining *** Pining - I might put mutual pining under pining if we don't see much of the other person pining. *** Bonus - The pining is not between Evak 

For the anon from this ask.

I will try my best to separate out the mutual pining fics but I think it will be tricky if it's not tagged as that. So bear with me and let me know of any mistakes or fics I missed out on.

. First Posting : 11 July 2021. Under 15k fics.  .

******* Mutual Pining *******

Even the Illustrator by eavk (SERIES, 3 fics) - An AU where Even’s an illustrator who draws what kids describe to him for YouTube, and Isak is the smitten father of a six year old with a wild imagination.

Postcards by HedwigsTalons (1k words) - Isak's wall is covered in postcards. Isak is supportive of Even's career and he cherishes every postcard but the long distance relationship hurts.

Feelings Come and Go, But Not With You by ultimatelawrence (1.9k words) - It was meant to just be a holiday romance. A fling. Nothing like love. But now it was six months later and Even was still pining over the angel he had met in Paris.

let's pretend into forever by Bellakitse (2.3k words) - “Let me get this straight,” Even starts. “You lied to your boss about having a boyfriend, told her it was me, and now you need me to go with you to your science nerd dinner?”

i will love you until the very, very end (and you were my best friend) by traumatic (2.4k words) - Isak and Even share something in the cool waters of a spring fed pool that no one, not even their fiancées, could ever understand.

Breathe Me by photographer_of_thoughts (4.5k words) - A high school reunion brings Isak and Even together after ten years, and neither of them can forget what happened when they were both seventeen.

Everything comes back to you by MermaidsandMermen (4.8k words) - Light pining. A dribble oneshot for Halloween, full of fluff and Even and Isak and a tiny pinch of angst. Because we need some Halloween fluff. That's all.

Fuck Tha Police by MacksDramaticShenanigans (5.2k words) - “This,” Eskild said, spinning the photograph around so everyone could see it, “is a picture of the latest piece of vandalism from our favorite little street punk.” he finished with a heavy sigh. They are both cops.

i tried to be strong but i lost it (i knew it was wrong, i’m beyond it) (6.3k words) - Even has a thing for his intern, Isak has a thing for his boss, they're both a bit clueless and their friends just want them to get their shit together.

all I see is you by littlemovie (Lejla) (7.4k words) - “Aren’t you gonna ask me why I’m a bad person?” Isak somehow whined and demanded at the same time. Jonas blew out a breath in amusement, which made the dark curls on his forehead move with his breath. “I’m guessing it has something to do with that guy, Even, from the coffeeshop?”

Addicted by endlessandinfinite (8k words) - They’re both completely, overwhelmingly, and incredibly...addicted. Best friends to lovers.

Calleth You, Cometh I by Kollakolan (8.4k words) - “Isak!” Mikaels pipes up. “Didn´t you two have a thing?” he turns to Even. A thing, Even thinks to himself. Yes, Isak and him definitely had a thing. They actually had a low-key thing going for years, but it never really turned into something more. The timing was never right.

In Vino Veritas by Sabeley (9.9k words) - After seven years apart, Isak wakes up to find Even in his bed and a wedding ring on his finger.

Let Me by GayaIsANerd (10.6k words) - Summer brings a lot of things. The smell of sunscreen. The sound of children playing in the shallow part of the lake. The taste of cold beer. The sweet tang of weed. But most importantly, summer brings Isak.

Something Borrowed, Something Blue by BluebeardsWife (10.8k words) - Fake dating AU, you know the drill. Even hires Isak to pretend to be his boyfriend at his ex's wedding. This Means Nothing to Me by cuteandtwisted (10.8k words) - Isak and Even are friends and roommates who don't believe in love anymore (after they both get dumped by other people) until they do. Aka the Friends/Roommates-To-Lovers Don't you let me go by solarpower21 (12.2k words) - In this universe, Isak and Even are roomates and nothing more. Except that there is something more between them and they both know that but are too stubborn to admit it. Too bad it takes a very unfortunate event for them to face the truth. Burn Down The Disco by TheGirlNoOneKnows5 (12.2k words) - A 'Black Mirror: Hang The DJ' AU in which Isak and Even decide to rebel against a futuristic dating system that pairs users up with various people in order to find their perfect match.

La Petite Mort by EvenbechNeiheim (13.4k words) - Even Bech Næsheim is one of those cool and very hot media students at Uni who might just got the task to make a film project. Eskild is the best wingman and things like accidently falling in love with an asshole media student happen. Based on the FIRST KISS YouTube video that gave the internet an entire meltdown. 

when your heart is bleeding, i'm coming to get you by orphan_account (13.5k words) - Isak doesn't exactly expect his hookup from last week to be the love advice columnist at the school newspaper he's working at. He also doesn't expect to fall even harder for him than he already has, which is a shame, really, since Even's crushing on someone else. 

Heal My Heart for Christmas by iwritetropesnottragedies (recklesslee) (13.5k words) - It’s been ten years since Isak left his small town for the big city of Oslo with his father. He hardly even thought of his time there anymore. Until he received a letter from his mother asking him to come home for Christmas for the first time since he had left. 

Love in the Time of COVID: Battlestar Edition by sweetasmaple (14k words) - Isak and Even find each other again during the COVID-19 lockdown, one Battlestar Galactica episode at a time. 

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******* Pining *******

never seemed so alive by retts (1k words) - Nothing special, just four letters strung together to spell out E V E N but they made Isak's heart race and his face blush and his hands tremble.

Hopeless by waitineedaname (1k words) - Light pining. There was no way in hell Isak would be able to talk to Even. He was tall and cool and handsome, and Isak was pretty sure talking to him would make him spontaneously combust.

i could probably just curl up in you. by milominderbinder (1.3k words) - Isak is away at a cabin with the guys when he gets a text from Even. 'hey, babe, did you take my favourite hoodie?' He is, of course, outraged that Even would accuse him of such treachery. The fact that Isak is wearing the hoodie at that very moment has nothing to do with it.

stuck on you (what did i do?) by itjustkindahappened (1.8k words) - It’s not that Even doesn’t try to be friendly with him—Isak just makes it so hard. Whenever Even approaches, Isak either makes up a fumbling excuse to leave, or just becomes really stiff and refuses to acknowledge Even’s existence.

now and forever (i will be your man) by thekardemomme (2.2k words) -Warning for pain. 3 times isak kisses even +1

i be up in the gym just working on my fitness by orphan_account (2.3k words) - Even knows that he's quite literally going to die when he finds his crush sweating on an elliptical, reading a book with his glasses slipping down his nose.

You know where I stay by nofeartina (2.4k words) - Warning for pain. Isak is so beautiful first thing in the morning. When he still has creases in his face from the pillow, when his face is red and puffy from sleep, his hair all messed up and curly. Even prefers this Isak. This is his Isak, this is only for him.

won't you be my livewire by itjustkindahappened (3.2k words) - "i've been tryin to grab your attention in class for over half an hour by poking you and throwing things onto your desk and you're refusing to acknowledge me and gdi all i wanted to do was tell you that you look cute and now it's gone too far and i can't go back"

Cookies and Cream by GayaIsANerd (3.5k words) - Isak has a crush on the barista. He's too scared to do anything about it, but luckily there's a blizzard coming up.

i can feel the weather in my bones by EvenbechNeiheim (3.7k words) - Isak and Even are childhood friends. There’s a boyfriend sweater and Isak is just desperate to wear it.

On the silver screen by Lokkanel (4k words) - Isak was really not in the mood for this. He had a long week at work, and all he wanted was to relax with his friend, drink a few beers, maybe even smoke some weed and just chill. But no. When Jonas called him to say that he won tickets to the coolest indie film festival in Oslo, Isak knew he could forget his plans for a quiet and simple weekend.

I want to love you (in my own language) by fauu_stine (4k words) - “Okay. Maybe I’m not happy,” he admits in a resigned whisper. “Do you need a shrink discussion or a best friend discussion?” "I think- I think it’s more of a friend with benefits kind of talk."

Don't be an ass by Julieseven (4.1k words) - Even really tried to forget about him. It started out as a harmless little crush, really. He saw him at the karaoke bar SYNG one night, singing "I don't want to miss a thing" at the top of his lungs, clearly drunk out of his mind, but looking like an angel with his messy dark blond locks and crooked smile.

Little Black Book by Laika (4.3k words) - Isak Valtersen is studying his third year at the University of Oslo and having the time of his life. Enter Evy Bech Næsheim, straight out of Nissen, in his stockings, mini skirts and bubblegum scented lip gloss.

cracks in our foundation by towonderland72 (4.8k words) - “You know, like a thousand years ago, men used to wear makeup?” Even asks, as Isak gapes at himself.

Safest With You (Green Curtains) by eavk (5.3k words) - Isak keeps staying up too late studying at the library, but luckily there's an escort service that gives students a buddy to walk with to keep safe at night.

the one with the prom video by thekardemomme (5.5k words) - Even has been in love with Isak since they were younger, but he never intended for Isak to find out this way.

Senses by Lokkanel (5.5k words) - Sight, hearing, smell, touch, taste… Or Even falling in love with Isak, one sense at a time.

you're the one i wanna grey with (5.6k words) - They've only been dating a month, so Isak shouldn't be pathetic enough to miss Even this much when he's only gone for a weekend.

Orion's Nebula by thekardemomme (5.6k words) - Light pining I think. Even Bech Næsheim was enrolled in an astronomy class for one reason and one reason only: the cute ass boy he saw standing in the registration line.

with the taste of a poison paradise by chasingflower (6k words) - It’s routine by now. Isak hangs out with his friends during the day and at night he kisses the Dream-Even that lives on the other side of the door in his living room, and basks in the warm fuzzy feelings he gets as a result of the attention. Coraline Au.

How to Get Your Man - A Plan By Even Bech Naesheim by Evakkk (6.1k words) - When Magnus drops a big secret in front of Even... Even comes up with a brilliant plan to get Isak to reveal his true feelings. All it takes is one little lie, and one crazy family reunion.

To Burn With Desire by photographer_of_thoughts (6.1k words) - AU in which Isak and Even are neighbours and Isak's father has a secret job that unintentionally helps Isak realize he's in love with his best friend.

Watermelon Sugar by MermaidsandMermen (6.6k words) - A little tribute to fruit and touching. To sex, and friendships and finding what you were looking for all along. And of course inspired by Harry Styles latest video offering, just because.

The Fake Boyfriend App by Crazyheart (7.2k words) - AU where Isak is desperately pining for his flatmate Even, and downloads a fake boyfriend app to get over him. When he discovers that the Fake boyfriend is a human, and not a bot, he is sceptical.

That look you give that guy by Lokkanel (7.4k words) - Isak and Even love each other in secret. It is almost thrilling at first, but when hiding and lying to their friends begin to take a toll on Even, Isak decides to end it all. He thinks he has taken the right decision, until Even eventually moves on with someone else.

my longing drives me crazy for you (7.7k words) - Isak's mum worries, Isak makes bad life decisions and Even loves Isak. It's a fake dating au.

I'm Always Here by nofeartina (9.3k words) - “Did you know that Even is working this summer? At that pool at the Plaza?” Jonas says. Isak actually sits up in excitement at this. “Fuck yeah!” Oh, a pool. Actual water they could go swimming in and cool down. And also, Even.

a garden for your love by eggsntoast (9.3k words) - He’s learning to breathe with them, even if he ends up with a floor full of violets by the end of it all. They remind Isak of him, and that’s all that matters. That’s what makes it worse. or: a Hanahaki au ft. Isak heavily pining after Even. Lots of angst.

I wrote an angry letter to the void, and the void responded (9.5k words) - Monday comes, and the book is still there. Isak looks around, content to find the floor practically empty, before giving the book the finger. Fuck that book. - a book finds it's way to Isak's sacred study spot. this proves to be a major distraction.

a constant state of closeness by chevythunder (9.7k words) - “What is it about this dude, anyway?” Elias asks. “You’ve barely even talked to him, right?” “I don’t know,” Even says. “I just got this feeling, you know? Just- I want to make sure he’s okay and safe and… stuff.” - It starts with a hug.

Is This Our Time? by Evakkk (9.9k words) - This is a world where everyone is born with an indistinguishable soulmate mark... it only changes into something recognizable, once you have physical contact with your soulmate, and it's always something meaningful to the relationship. Both partners will bear the same mark. Isak is about to turn 18... and he's the only one in his friend group who still hasn't found their soulmate. But what happens when he goes out one night, gets drunk... and wakes up with his soulmate mark?

Is This What You Wanted? by cuteandtwisted (9.9k words) - Isak is filthy rich and Even is a hardworking male model who just got signed to his father's agency. Even gets an awful offer from Isak: one night with him in exchange for money, and begins to despise him. Little does he know that everything he thinks he knows about Isak is wrong.

Just like in the movies by Lokkanel (10.5k words) - As he began taking in his surroundings, Isak realized he was in one of those small theaters that programmed independent and artsy movies, even old black and white films. He was ready to turn around and walk away when he heard a deep voice say, “Halla.”

my tiny heartbeat in his ear by riyku (11k words) - Now, about a week after the longest day of the year, the empty house across the street has stopped being empty. most beautiful things by scarletbluebird (12.7k words) - This fic is a whole ass journey. Warning for pain. This isn’t a fairytale, Isak tells himself. Even is standing at the bend in the road. He looks like a metaphor for immortal life: the youth a god would kill for. Ambrosia eyes, the universe trapped in the curve of his mouth. He looks like every warning from his mother about strangers you run into after dark. 

One week by Lokkanel (12.8k words) - This thing going on between Isak and Even, whatever they called it - fuckbuddies, friends with benefits - was simple, fun, nothing more. They were friends, they were both free to do whatever they wanted with other people. They’d just meet and have sex whenever they felt like it. Simple. Until what was bound to happen eventually did and Even fell for Isak. 

Plum by Jamz24 (13.2k words) - Femme!teacher!Even asks masculine! plumber!Isak to fix a broken shower on a scorching hot summer day...And if you think it sounds like the start of a porn film you're absolutely right! There's LOADS of smut but ... with LOTS of feelings 

Never be the same by nofeartina (14.2k words) - It starts with a bet - one of those really stupid ones: can they last an entire month without any kind of sex?It’s been 22 days – and Even is dying. 

Somewhere I’ve never been by MinilocIsland (14.6k words) - The first time Even meets Jonas' best friend, nothing goes according to plan. 

If I Should Fall Behind by MinilocIsland (14.7k words) - The plan for tonight had been crystal clear. Stay close to his best friend, and steal her away if needed. Hold her hand through the ordeal of meeting Noora again for the first time in years. Then Even shows up – and suddenly, nothing goes the way it was supposed to. 

All I Ever Wanted by MinilocIsland (14.8k words) - Isak is such a good friend. Probably the best there is. How else could he explain that he's agreed to join Magnus to this place deep in the woods for six full days of silence, meditation, and utter boredom? One thing, he knows. There's nothing exciting for him there. Right? Or: the silent retreat AU. 

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******* Bonus *******

Season 3: Jonas by Laika_the_husband (WIP, SBB 2021 fic) - There is a scene in the end of the script for season 1, where Jonas and Isak kiss each other on a dare. This story is a retelling of season 3 in a universe, where that kiss happened and completely changed the way Jonas sees Isak. Written in Jonas' POV, the story examines sexuality, love, friendship and coming to terms with never getting the boy you shouldn't have fallen for in the first place.

What the fuck is wrong with me? by notanugget (11.6k words) - The five times isak felt guilty for being in love and the one time he didn’t 

thanks for the weed, thanks for everything by evak1isak (13.1k words) - Jokael. Jonas' dealer has moved to Denmark, and Even recommends his friend's weed. What Jonas didn't expect, though, was to develop a crush on a boy, on Mikael. 

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******* WIP *******

Baby, why do you have to shine so bright? by Lilacpotter - Even knew he was radiant, and he was used to people always wanting to be around him, enchanted by his captivating words and glowing smiles, as if he was the tantalising sun. But then one day, he comes across someone who shines much brighter than the sun itself in Even’s eyes.

Lonely Hearts Club by EndingsNotTheStory - The Hearts Club. A show run by Isak and his 3 friends. He's kind of had enough with hearing about people's relationship issues and giving advice. Until the guy from his theatre class and Isak's totally not crush Even calls, dealing with relationship issues. pining

[sunlightandsuffering]

Mikasa with glasses = hot librarian Mikasa

Eren has loved Mikasa for as long as he can remember, through hell or highwater he’s been there. Since they were kids, when she was the ugly duckling in elementary school, when she was still somehow the ugly duckling in high school, he’d loved her.

Although he’d always thought she was beautiful; in high school the other kids had sure made fun of her for being taller than most boys and stronger too. Combined with the acne and awkwardness of puberty, it really just hadn’t gone well.

But Eren had always been there, hadn’t cared what anyone else thought, he’d promised to marry her on the playground in kindergarten and he’d stuck to that promise like glue. The second he got the okay from his mom that he was old enough to have a girlfriend, he’d bought her flowers and asked. She’d cried for ten minutes before saying yes and Eren had honestly been worried for a bit.

So now here they are, finally graduated, in university and living their best lives, Mikasa finally the lovely flower he always knew she would be, growing into herself more, more comfortable in her own skin and talkative with people that weren’t him.

And then, on the first day of the new semester they attend their GPA booster sociology lecture. And Mikasa makes him sit at the front of the lecture hall. Not the front middle, a few rows back, not the second row in, the first fucking row, so close to the projector he’s going to get a headache.

“Miks I know you’re a goody two shoes and all, but can we please sit a few rows back at least this is crazy.” She gives him a puzzled look, “It’s blurry back there, why would we sit there?” “Two rows back?” “Yeah, it’s super blurry,” she tells him matter-of-factly before digging her notes out of her backpack and Eren sighs, because he can’t believe he never saw this. His dad is a fucking ophthalmologist.

“Miks I think you need glasses love,” he tells her gently and she looks at him like he’s nuts. “No, it’s fine, I can see.”

“Baby, you shouldn’t have to sit at the front of the room to see the projector.”

"No, this is normal, everyone else just squints." "No my love, I can see just fine two rows up." "Fine, then we'll move two rows up and I'll prove I don't need glasses." What follows is the most painful sociology lecture of his life. Mikasa leans so far over her seat she almost falls into the next aisle several times, not to mention how hard she's squinting, he can't even see her eyes, she's going to cause wrinkles.

Not to mention how many times she leans over to ask him what a word is, blaming it on the prof's terrible handwriting. Eren doesn't have the heart to tell her it's actually really neat, pretty looping cursive.

At the end of the lecture her notes are incomprehensible and as Mikasa looks down at them she's almost inconsolable, his beloved girlfriend almost bursting into tears on the spot. She goes into full meltdown mode and he has to distract her with the snacks he brought for lunch just so she won’t cry.

Three days later and a visit to his dad, Mikasa gets reading glasses for lecture, although she pouts about it the entire time and has a full crying session in his arms the night she gets the offending lenses. “I just got pretty Eren, I finally don’t have acne, and don’t look like a twelve year old boy, what the fuck am I going to do? My boobs are great but they can’t make up for this!”

“Mikasa I’ve always thought your were beautiful you know that.” “Shut up you’re my boyfriend, you’re supposed to say that and you know damn well I didn’t have boobs for the first sixteen years of my life, I looked like a pre-pubescent boy I don’t want to hear it. Now I'm going to look like revenge of the nerds.”

He shuts up, “Well just try them on, maybe they’ll look good.” “No, I can’t let you see until you have to, I hate them, I look awful.” Another meltdown promptly occurs and Eren makes sure to worship her very well for her troubles, letting her know exactly which body parts he admires the most, which is of course all of them. Mikasa goes to sleep thoroughly fucked, and Eren thinks the problem is over. Spoiler alert: it isn’t.

The next morning before their lecture he wakes up very much without his girlfriend in their bed and he freaks out for about an hour before finally reading the note she’d left.

She’s going to their class without him, and he’s not allowed to look for her. Fuck that.

Eren ends up very late, and when he arrives to the lecture hall, it’s packed full and his girlfriend is nowhere in sight. He looks really hard too, her pretty head and cute black glasses nowhere to be found. He finds her after lecture leaning against a pole and grinning at him, glasses gone.

“Mikasa what the fuck?” “I told you, I’m not showing you until it’s absolutely necessary.” “So you’re not going to sit with me the whole semester?” She kisses his nose, “Yup.”

And so it begins, the great battle of trying to see Mikasa in her glasses.

Every morning they try to wake up earlier than the other, outpace whoever leaves first. But Mikasa is fast, and he can never arrive in time to catch where she sits, not to mention she thwarts him by shutting off his alarms, setting one only for when it’s too late for him to catch her.

Once, he sleeps over at Jean’s house, hoping he can catch her if he’s not at home. Eren arrives to the lecture hall two hours early and just sits and waits. Their lecture is the earliest class, so he has to get a janitor to let him in, but he waits patiently for his girlfriend. And when students finally begin to trickle in he expects to see her. Except he doesn’t. He carefully watches almost every student arrive, and not one of them has the same dark hair and pale complexion as Mikasa.

Not one. Yet, still after class his girlfriend awaits him asking how he liked todays material. Eren explodes, how is she doing this?

“Mikasa what the fuck, I waited two hours.” His girlfriend grins deviously, “I have a few different wigs.” Eren wants to scream. When he finally spots his girlfriend in glasses, it’s an accident.

After a month of the losing battle he’s given up at this point, he arrives a little too late to class and sleepily drags himself up to the third row down in the middle section.

Eren slides into the last available seat, next to a pretty girl with pink hair.

It’s clear she’s nervous next to him for some reason, dramatically moving all her items far away from him and keeping her body turned so he can’t really see her, but Eren doesn’t care, whatever.

He’s too tired for morning lecture. He doesn’t care until the prof asks if they can all pull out paper and a pen to participate in a class activity and Eren realizes he forgot his pencil case. He taps the girl on the shoulder a few times, “Hey, can I borrow a pencil?” She ignores him at first, but Eren is in the last seat of the aisle, she’s the only one he can ask. “Excuse me, I’ll just be a few minutes, after the activity you can have it back.” Still no answer, Eren groans, trying one more time and finally the girl looks at him and green eyes meet slate grey encased in delicate dark frames and Eren’s brain short circuits.

“Miki?” She lets out a long sigh, “Yeah it’s me.”

His eyes scan up and down her body quick and he utters out a quick, “Fuck,” and Mikasa glares at him over her glasses.

“I look ridiculous right, I knew it, I’m throwing them away when I get home.” She looks the opposite of ridiculous. Eren physically can’t breathe looking at her because he’s never really thought he’d have a thing for glasses, but Mikasa in glasses… He now understands why there’s so many sexy librarian pornos.

He’s silent for a second and his girlfriend squirms under her ridiculous pink wig, and Eren knows he has to clear up her assumption. “Can I still borrow that pencil?” Her brow furrows and for a moment she looks so unbelievably upset, but hands him hers and Eren wastes no time, writing down in explicit detail while their teach talks, exactly what he wants to do with his girlfriend. She looks amazing, her eyes magnified a little by the frames, big, grey and expressive, eyelashes long and dark. It’s just the way they sit on her face too, the cute little scrunch of her brows every time they slide down the delicate arch of her nose, how she pouts when she has to push them back up.

How she looks like she should be wearing heels and asking him where his library card is, fuck does he love Mikasa in glasses. She’s sexy as hell. Eren chooses an optimal moment to hand Mikasa his note, when the teacher is explaining the example and he watches her eyes scan the scrap of paper with his literal paragraph of dirty thoughts and she almost chokes.

He leans down to her ear, “Love the glasses, in case you couldn’t tell, you’d better be wearing them when I fuck you later.” He lays a kiss to her temple before concentrating on class. Mikasa doesn’t concentrate at all, he thinks he broke her, and he has to do their activity for both of them. But oh well, as long as she knows she’s cute with glasses, he doesn’t really care.

[we-are-inevitable]

OKAY BIG AU RANT BUT I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT THIS (even though i posted all of this in the discord last night) AND UH:

modern au where most the newsies are straight and in a frat and jack is the frat president

very stereotypical frat bro, wears his letters everyday (whether it's a t-shirt of a cap or a pin on his bag), throws a whole bunch of parties and is really respected and stuff

he gets around, and has been with a bunch of girls throughout college- nothing really serious, but whatever.

everything is going great, until he meets David Jacobs at a party the frat is throwing.

and obviously jack has seen him around campus before (they're in their fourth year of college by now), and they had a few labs together back in like. freshman year, but they've never *talked*

and now, here's david, at a party with Katherine, and jack decides to talk to him.

they actually hit it off pretty well, but then jack mentions something about david taking Katherine home and David laughs and says, "Yeah, she's gonna help me weed out my grindr matches."

cue jack being like "???" because OH! jacobs is gay. huh. okay

and jack obviously makes a big show of it ("oh, sick! being gay is okay, bro, y'know, love is love and shit like that") and it's so obvious that he's out of his element but he doesn't wanna be like. homophobic or anything

and they kind of talk for a bit longer before jack drifts off to another group of people, and he doesn't think much of the interaction- at least, not until he runs into david at another party on campus the next weekend. this time, they're alone; jack is only there bc one of his buds in another frat told him to come, and david has lost Katherine in the crowd, so jack and david talk in the kitchen and get to know each other a bit more. again, everything is pretty New and they kind of friends now but they're talking and that's fine.

later on that night, jack sees david making out with some guy on the staircase, and to get his mind off of it, jack makes out with a girl in the kitchen.

over the next few weeks, david and jack run into each other a lot- enough times for them to exchange snapchats, and follow each other on Instagram. and they talk more on social media; jack invites david to some parties and david always comes, and they always end up talking- for longer and longer each time, like ACTUAL conversations about the past and their future goals and stuff

about three months after their initial meeting, though (after they've become good friends, who talk/snap everyday and hang out at least once a week), they're at a party, and jack gets pretty drunk, and he sees david making out with some guy on the couch. and jack doesn't know why, but he feels bad. angry. kind of upset. he approaches and tells david he needs to talk to him, and David says no ("uh, i'm kind of in the middle of something?")

and jack tries getting him to move and the other guy- the one David is making out with- starts getting in jack's face and calling him names, so jack... decks him.

he decks him, and he's immediately feeling guilty and bad and the commotion has stopped all around him and everyone is staring and david looks so confused and pissed off

and all jack can do is say "i'm so sorry" and run off

it's not until he's home that he realizes that, the reason he punched that guy in the face, was because he didn't like the idea of him having his hands on david.

because jack wants to be the one with his hands on david.

as soon as that realization hits him, though, jack basically has a meltdown. he's frustrated and crying and kind of throwing shit around but not really because, no. he can't be gay. right? he can't be. he literally has like 3 gay friends and he doesn't know anything about being gay and he's never been into a guy before but, fuck, he's into david.

naturally, though, jack avoids david for as long as he can. he avoids him like the plague

until one night, about six days later, when jack is drunk again (not from a party; more like self pity) and around two am one night, he walks to David's dorm room and knocks really loudly. and it takes a minute, but David answers, and as soon as the door opens, jack starts talking.

"Davey! Hi!"

"...Jack, what are you--"

"Listen, I'm very drunk. Very drunk. and I get it, ya probably don't wanna see me ever again, but I need to talk to ya, because- cause I ain't talked to ya in days, and I miss you, and I'm sorry."

"Jack, it's late, and--"

"Y'know, no one has been talkin' to me since the party. None'a my friends, no one from class... I fucked up, and I'm sorry, and I don't have an excuse, but I just... Do you know what's goin' on right now? 'Cause I sure as hell don't."

"What do you mean?"

"Have you been flirtin' with me?"

"I- I'm sorry, what--"

"'Cause I can't tell if you've been flirting with me or not, and I can't tell if i like it or not, but if you're flirtin' with me, then I've been likin' it, and thats fucking terrifying. Seein' you with that guy... I- I know we ain't a thing or anything, but it fuckin' sucked, and I don't even know why! Okay? Because I think I like you, but I've never been into a dude, and you're a dude and that's- that's fuckin' scary, man. But it'll be fine, and I'll deal with it, and I'm sorry. Night, davey."

and all david can do it watch jack stumble back down the hallway, and pray that jack remembers this in the morning.

and obviously jack remembers, because around noon the next day- a sunday- david gets a message from jack that says, 'we need to talk.'

so, david meets jack at one of the benches in front of the library, and jack looks so... broken, and defeated, and hungover as fuck.

"...You remember last night, huh?"

"Unfortunately, yeah. Look, Dave, I... I'm sorry. All of that was- was a lot, and you shouldn't have had to deal with my bullshit, and--"

"Did you mean it?"

"...Yeah. Yeah, I did."

and they're silent for a long time, until david rubs his arm and says

"For the record, I don't even know the name of the guy you punched."

"You two ain't--?"

"No, we aren't together. I... I've sort of had my eye on someone else."

and then david slowly takes jack's hand, and he san feel how tense and how shaky jack is, and he can see how scared he is, but then jack squeezes david's hand, and things start looking up. obviously they still have to deal with the fallout (and david is still very ,, Not Happy about jack punching that guy), but for the most part, they take things slow and figure it out as they go.

when jack comes out to the rest of the guys, he's really nervous and he does it in one of their weekly frat meetings, and of course there are a few of the guys who try to start shit, but the majority of the frat (other newsies included) are fine with it and are proud of jack.

i imagine all if this happening around,, December, so then once second semester hits, jack is less focused on partying and more focused on developing his relationship with david and working on accepting himself for who he is.

also HUGE shout out to the discord server for dealing with me spamming the chat with these paragraphs last night, namely @tarantulas4davey , @starz-in-our-eyes , and @santagae !!!!!

[stardustedknuckles]

I got diagnosed with PMDD about two years ago but I think it really got confirmed today. Two years ago I was on wellbutrin and my GP suggested taking an extra one of those since antidepressants were the first-line treatment. Well. The wellbutrin was already causing anxiety, so...

Anyway I finally stepped off of that and talked to my pharmacist about whether there was any real risk in me taking a half of my dad’s old sertraline. I’ve been on it before but it didn’t do much after the first amazing couple months, it would be a low dose, etc. And I spent an hour having immense anxiety at just the thought of taking it anyway because what if? What if I just fucking died for no reason? I could tell it was anxiety but that wasn’t making it easier to buckle down and take. I got a friend to yell at me gently to do it and I did and within two minutes. Just like that, things started to change.

Which is actually what happened the first time I took a Zoloft, and I spent years hearing how that had to be placebo because SSRIs don’t work like that. Mostly that’s true. Unless you’re doing intermittent dosing for a few days before your period. In that case, they work extremely quickly. I first started Zoloft because my mom induced an anxiety meltdown demanding I look her in the eyes and then she dragged me to minor emergency where they went “no offense but you look depressed af. Please take this very safe SSRI.” Like I said, it worked within minutes. Almost like I’ve had PMDD for a long while and was raised that it was normal to go through hormonal hell. 

Anyway today within 30 minutes of taking it I could eat, and soon after my stomach issues from the past two days spontaneously resolved. I’m cozy and waiting for my delta 8 gummy to kick in, so probably not in shape for writing tonight. But I’ll get back to it soon. 

This could’ve been said in like three sentences but whatever, it’s fine.

[aka-ashi-keiji]

“i can’t hear you”

Bakugou Katsuki x best friend reader

soft angst

tw: screaming, emotional meltdown.

short fic about bakugou and you’re his childhood best friend, and you help him through dealing with his hearing loss. enjoy lovies.

*******************************************************

You woke up to the sound of your mother knocking on your door and yelling, “y/n wake up, you have training today with katsuki. i love that boy but i am not in the mood to deal with his explosive attitude over you being late .” You lived right next door to katsuki all your life and since your moms were best friends, you guys were best friends since you learned how to walk. Every saturday you guys would train from 8 AM to noon in his garage since it was basically a mini gym, and then after you both would head over to your house. You checked the time on your phone on the bedside table and it read 7:50. “SHIT MOM WHY DIDN’T YOU WAKE ME UP SOONER” you yelled as you jumped out of bed and quickly found a black tank top and grey sweatpants to train in. You could hear your mom chuckling as she walked away from your door. You grabbed your headphones, phone, water bottle, and Nike’s before yelling a goodbye and dashing over to Katsuki’s front yard. 

You knocked on his door four times so that his family knew it was you. You were halfway through slipping your shoes on when Mitsuki answered. She yawned and pulled you into a side hug. “Good morning y/n, you hungry?” She asked as she closed the door behind you guys and started towards the kitchen. “No thanks Mitsuki, I don’t like to train on a full stomach. My mom is making a huge lunch though, you guys are welcome to join us.” You said cheerfully, but kept your voice low since it was very early and you could tell Katsuki’s mom was still half asleep. She nodded and then whipped her head to face you wearing a look on her face as if she had just remembered something very important. “Kat has been very on edge lately and not very responsive this week.” She paused before starting again and turned her gaze to the floor, almost as if she didn’t want to talk. “I think it might have to do with his hearing. He won’t admit it, but I think his quirk is finally starting to affect him. Good thing we put him in those sign language classes as a precaution.” she laughed dryly and then turned back to look at you. “Just, take it easy him with the teasing today okay? and maybe try speaking a little louder. I’ll go see if he’s ready” and with that she gathered herself up the stairs and disappeared. 

You thought silently as you waited, and all of a sudden it made sense. Lately at school bakugou has been yelling more than usual, and telling everyone to speak louder. Maybe he was yelling more to be able to hear himself? You didn’t know. Bakugou has been learning sign language since he was 7 years old as a precaution for this and has been regularly signing while he talks since he was 10. So, bakugou using his sign language all the time wasn’t uncommon, but maybe Mitsuki was right. You made a mental note not to say anything until you actually noticed a big change in your guys’ training. You waited patiently for about another 10 minutes before Katsuki finally came downstairs. 

“Hey idiot, nice outfit.” Katsuki greeted you in his groggy morning voice, his hands signing his words lazily. You looked down at the tank top and sweatpants you were wearing and looked back to him, you both were wearing the same exact thing. “Morning pom pom” you greeted back as you gathered your things and started to head towards the garage. You turned around to see bakugou staring into nothing, so you called out. “Hey kat, you coming?” No response. You repeated yourself, but this time loud enough you were sure you woke his dad. He whipped his head towards you and nodded before following along. As you were walking down the hall, you turned to him and asked, “You okay?” while signing your words. Katsuki looked down at your hands and his cheeks started to dust with the lightest shade of pink. He huffed and his red eyes sparked as he just growled out a ‘yeah’ and walked ahead of you into the garage, starting to set up for your session. You yourself had picked up sign language at a young age because your dad was deaf because his quirk was being able to shoot sonic booms from his hands. you pressed the button to open the garage door and let some light in. You then walked over to the speakers and plugged your phone in as you hit play on your playlist specifically for training days. Bakugou stopped setting up the bench press station and yelled, “Can you turn it up? “ as he signed quickly, but then went back to putting the weights together. You turned back to the speaker only to be surprised since the volume was already almost at max capacity. You shook your head and turned the volume all the way up. This session should be interesting. 

It was around 9:30 AM at this point and you and Kat had finished weights and went on a 2 mile run. You were currently sitting on the floor stretching your quads as the loud techno music boomed around you. You glanced over at katsuki who was stretching on the other side of the garage and he seemed to be in a whole other universe. You called out to him, but he didn’t do so much as flinch. You picked yourself up off the floor and slowly walked towards him. You called a few more times and still got nothing from him, so you decided to turn off the music. As soon as you did Katsuki’s head shot up and his eyes darted towards you. “What the hell was that for dipshit? We’re gonna start sparring soon, we need it.” He said/yelled at you while you sauntered over to him and took a seat about a foot away from his now steaming body. You wiped the sweat from your forehead with the back of your arm before talking to katsuki, well you didn’t exactly talk with your voice, you were mostly signing. “Katsuki are you sure you’re okay? You’re not responding when I call out for you.” You waited for his response as his eyes stayed on your hands that were once moving. This time he answered, but for some reason he didn’t sign. “If I tell you, you can’t tell a single soul you hear me dumbass? Not even my parents. “ You nodded your head and gently reach over to squeeze his hand four times, your guys’ way of saying I promise. He then began to talk, and signed very aggressively as he did so, and what he said was enough to shatter you into a million pieces. 

 “I’ve been struggling in a way lately,” he started, “I tried to cover it up by just yelling all the time hoping people would just think it was my normal behavior. But, really it was so i could he hear myself.” Katsuki let out a long breath and you could see his hands slightly shaking. “It started out last week as just a slight ringing, but it got louder every damn day. But, this week the ringing got quieter, and eventually everything around me started to sound like I was underwater. “ He looked up at you and your breath hitched, tears rolled down katsuki’s face as he held eye contact. He shook out his hands and took another shakey breath before he began, “I- I can barely hear you y/n! And its so frusturating.” the volume of his voice was rising, and you could see the pain he was feeling through his eyes and the tears that were now dripping down to his shirt. “I can’t hear your fucking voice damnit! It’s the only one that doesn’t drive me up fucking walls.  it terrifies me!” He was screaming at this point as his hands worked through the air to express his words. The tears came at a much quicker pace once he had stopped to breathe, and those tear turned into sobs as he curled in on himself. He tucked his knees to his chest and ducked his head into his arms as they wrapped around his legs. His shoulders and back shook as he cried, and for a moment you didn’t know what to do. You haven’t seen Katsuki cry since you both were 8 years old and he was playing with his quirk and accidently blasted your arm. He started crying as soon as he heard you wail in pain, and the lecture from his mother didn’t help in the slightest. You subconsciously reached up to rest your hand on the scar as you tried to think of what you could say to him.

 Katsuki leveled his head and looked up at you, and slowly reached his hand out, still crying quietly. For a second you didn’t know what he meant, but it soon clicked in your head and you took his hand in yours. you looked at him with teary eyes and signed, “How can i help?” He untucked his legs from his chest and moved closer to you. Then, before you could even register what was happening, Katsuki had his arms around your waist with his head on your shoulder. You froze, it had been quite some time since either of you had needed a hug like this. once your shock had subsided, you brought your hands to rest on his upper back and rubbed soothingly. He began to cry again, which then led to sobs just like they had before. You began to talk, whispering variations of ‘I’m here’ and ‘You don’t have to be scared’, only to remember that he probably can’t hear you. Seeing katsuki as vulnerable as this broke your heart, and single tear fell from your face. Katsuki could feel your jaw muscles moving against the side of his face, so he knew you were talking, but he couldn’t hear you. “I- i- i- I can’t hear! I can’t hear you! Y/n I can’t hear you, fix it please, please I hate this so much!” He screamed into your shoulder which luckily muffled it enough to not draw any attention from the neighbors. He gripped onto your waist tighter as he breathed long and hard breaths. “I’m so scared. I’m terrified of losing you.” He whispered. This had confused you so you gently placed your hands on his shoulders and put a bit of distance between you guys so he could see you signing. “What do you mean you’re gonna lose me? I’m not going anywhere.” You said and waited for his response. He brought his trembling hands up to start signing and began, “I’m scared that if i can’t hear you, I won’t hear you calling me for help when you’re in danger. What kind of hero am I if i can’t even save my best friend?” You took one of his hands in yours and began to sign with your other. “You’re gonna be okay, We’re both gonna get you through this. I know you, and you don’t take shit from no one. And I know damn well you’re not gonna let a little hearing loss get in the way of beating deku.” He laughed slightly at the last statement, and seeing his small smile was like the world coming off of your shoulders. “We’ll take you to the doctor, they’ll help you.” He shook his head at that and his angry glowering returned. “It’s not anything to be embarrassed about. And I’m sure your parents would do anything to help you become the hero you want to be.” You finished your monologue and squeezed his hand four times, promising him you’re not going anywhere. He smiled down at his hand and then brought his other one up to sign, “I love you shithead” and you signed back, “Yeah I know, I love you too Kat”.

 He began to stand up and Katsuki pulled you up with him.  He immediately pulled you into the tightest bear hug possible. No one knew, but Katsuki was the biggest hugger, and it was your favorite thing about him. You released your arms from his waist and he released his hold around your shoulders. You took the sides on his face in your hands, and pointed to your lips as a signal to read your words. He nodded his head, and in a volume Katsuki couldn’t hear, you said, “I can hear you, I can hear you.”. He nodded and smiled the most genuine smile you’d seen out of him in years. “You ready?” he signed, and you answered “for what?”. He smirked and was quiet for a few seconds before shoving you to the side a little and running off towards your house. “Race you!” he yelled, “First one there, is your mom’s favorite you loser.” Kat called again. You smiled and shook your head as you sprinted off after him, remembering this is the Katsuki that will be the #1 hero someday. 

***************************************🌸

[pterodactylterrace]

Guys Like You Chapter 9

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 9

Chapter Summary: What happens when a busy schedule leaves you lonely?

Rating: 18+

Chapters:  {Prologue} {Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} {Chapter 5} {Chapter 6} {Chapter 7} {Chapter 8}

It had been weeks since Faye had seen Henry outside of work. Henry's schedule was packed with choreography practice, training, filming and hush hush phone and zoom interviews he refused to tell Faye anything about. She was starting to get the feeling he had given up on her and was moving on. Why else would he refuse to tell her anything about this 'project' he was working on? Not a single clue was dropped. He continuously sited 'not wanting to jinx it' as his reasoning for not telling her. She was banned from his house for the last three weeks, finding herself right back where this had all started. Could it even be called a relationship? They had never agreed to be exclusive or anything, so it wasn't like she could lay some sort of claim on the man. It seemed he was drifting further and further away with every passing day.

Briar was taking it harder than her mother was. He was the first male presence outside of her grandfather and uncle she regularly had contact with. To say she had quickly become attached was an understatement. One particularly heartbreaking evening, she had convinced herself he would be coming over and bringing "Princess Kal" as she had dubbed the poor canine. She sat by the front window, clutching her stuffed bunny stubbornly until far after her bedtime, finally breaking down into hysterical sobs when she realized he really wasn't coming. Faye's texts to Henry about the child's expectations went unanswered.

A few days ago, Mrs. Anderson was unable to babysit, leaving Faye no choice but to either call in sick, or bring her daughter with her to work. Last time hadn't caused much of a problem, so hopefully she would be able to get away with it again. Just as long as it didn't become a habit, it wouldn't be a problem, right? It really wasn't, either. For the first hour or so, the child sat in the corner of the makeup trailer, mesmerized by the movie playing on her tablet. Faye had breezed through the battle wounds on some dwarves and applied the prosthetic ears on the elves in that time, her daughter calmly tucked away the entire time.

Then came time for Henry to get into the makeup chair. The second he stepped foot into the trailer, Briar had latched herself onto his legs, sobbing and clutching his pant leg like her little life depended on it. To say Henry panicked would be an understatement.

"I told you she missed you." Faye shrugged. In fact, she had mentioned several times how Briar kept asking about him. It was a bit of a wakeup call as far as her dating life was destined to go. If Henry was only around for a few months and Briar had attached herself so firmly to him, what would happen if Faye actually dated someone and spent even more time with him? Briar would be devastated if it didn't work out.

"I'm so sorry, princess." Henry soothed, detaching the toddler from his leg and scooping her up, letting her continue to cry into his neck. "I've been busy, I wasn't trying to make you sad." He assured, sitting in the makeup chair with the little girl still clinging to his shirt.

Faye may have failed to mention the multiple meltdowns she'd had to endure due to his sudden absence, but why should she bother the man with it? It's not like it was his job to pacify her daughter. She just wished the little girl hadn't grown so attached to him in the short time she had known him.

Briar completely refused to be apart from Henry for the rest of the day, perching herself in his chair while he filmed, staring intently at him as she clutched her bunny to her chest, whimpering unsurely the first few takes of a particularly rough fight sequence. Thankfully, she had calmed quickly, Faye explaining to the little girl that he was just playing pretend and wasn't going to get hurt.

She had reattached herself to him the second he drew too close, practically climbing him like a monkey to cling to his neck again. Faye was past the point of trying to stop her by then. She had been the one dealing with it ever since he had decided to vacate the little girl's life. At least now he could see first hand why Faye had been so irritable with him lately.

He vowed to Facetime later that night to say goodnight to the little girl when he had strapped her into her car seat that evening, the child unwilling to let her mother take her to the car by herself. His promise didn't stop her from sobbing the whole way home. The poor girl cried herself out by the time Faye had pulled into the driveway, half asleep all the way through dinner, ultimately passing out at the table, a forkful of pasta clutched in her chubby fist.

To his credit, Henry had called later that night, well after Briar's bedtime. Again, he apologized profusely for his insane schedule in the voicemail he had left. Faye wasn't in the mood to talk anymore, too drained from her daughter's most recent meltdown.

Now, here he stood at her doorstep five days later, his shoulders slumped in defeat and a pleading look on his face as Faye blocked his entry into her home with her tiny body.

"Can I help you?" Faye asked calmly, crossing her arms and leaning against her door frame.

"Faye, please, can we talk?"

"What's there to talk about?" Faye brushed him off, fixing him with a cold look.

"You're avoiding me."

"Excuse the fuck out of you?" Faye hissed, stalking toward him and shutting the door harshly behind herself. "I'm avoiding you? Are you seriously going to pretend the last three weeks never happened? One second, you're around all the time, the next I only see you at work. You dodge my calls, refuse to see me and break my three year old daughter down into hysteria thinking she did something wrong. Please, go on, tell me how I'm the one avoiding jack shit here!"

"I deserve that." Henry sighed, roughly shoving a hand through his untamed curls.

"Goddamn right you do." Faye hissed, fury burning intensely in her usually wide, innocent brown eyes.

"Please, Faye. Can you hear me out?"

"What's there to talk about? You got bored and you left me behind. I don't want your fucking excuses."

"I promise, I wasn't trying to avoid you, and I didn't get bored of you!" Henry growled, anger taking over his once apologetic face at her accusations.

"Then what the hell is it? Please, tell me why I should be okay with only being in your life when it's convenient to you."

"I've been busy, Faye! My life doesn't revolve around you!" Faye's entire body tensed at his outburst, returning his fiery gaze with a cold stare.  

"And mine doesn't revolve around you either, Mr. Cavill. If you don't have time for us, that's fine. I understand we aren't a priority for you. You've made that much clear. That doesn't mean I have to be at your beck and call whenever you can fit me in. I have my own life. I have a daughter to take care of, and I don't need you breaking her heart every time you can't spare a goddamn second for her."

"I wasn't trying to hurt her. I wasn't trying to push you away." Henry seethed. "You think I enjoyed being away for this long? You think I liked not spending time with you?"

"You make time for the things that matter, Mr. Cavill. Clearly, that's not us." Faye replied, her calm tone slashing through Henry's heart worse than any previous rage or hostility could. These were not words created by anger and meant to hurt him in the heat of the moment. This was coming from a detached, practical place in her mind. This was something she had thought about, long and hard.

"Faye." Henry sighed, his tense shoulders falling in defeat. "I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt Briar. The time I've spent with you two these last few months have been the happiest I've been in years. I understand if you don't want to see me, but I really wish you would. I... damnit, I fucking need you two." He admitted shakily, his eyes falling to Faye's feet, taking notice of the black ink covering the top of her right foot for the first time. Had he really paid so little attention that he hadn't even noticed that? Was he really that detached from something that brought him so much unconditional joy?

"And what am I supposed to do when you vanish again? It's the life you live, Mr. Cavill-"

"Henry. Please, call me Henry." He pleaded softly, each utterance of the removed name feeling like a knife to his heart.

"You aren't tied down to one place. You travel all the time. Why should I let you continue hurting us? What promise can you possibly give us that you won't just leave again?"

"I never left, I've been right here." Henry whispered, unsure hands coming to rest on her hips, slowly lowering his forehead to rest against hers. He had no idea when they had gotten so close during their argument, but he had to admit, it felt good to hold her again. "Please. I promise, I won't vanish again. If I can't be here in person, I'll call, I'll Facetime, I'll send video messages, I'll text. I will do anything and everything I can to be here for you."

"Then what happens when you find someone else?" Faye countered, remaining stiff in his hold, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest, subconsciously trying to block him out and build a wall between them.

"I'm not looking for anyone else." Henry assured, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head.

"Doesn't mean you won't find her."

"Then this mystery woman can sod off. I'm not interested." Henry hummed, pulling Faye closer to wrap his arms around her, resting his cheek atop her head, her tension slowly fading away with his embrace. "Can you forgive me for being an ass?" He asked hopefully, peppering the top of her head with kisses.

"This time. There won't be a next time. I don't have time to invest in someone that won't make any time for me."

"I promise, I will make time for you two." Henry vowed, reluctantly taking a step back to look into her face. "Would it be too much to ask to come inside? I sure could use one of Briar's special cups of tea."

"Mmm, you might be out of luck then. She's decided she wants to be a knight instead now." Faye informed him, slipping away from his desperately clutching hands to push the door open, Briar freezing in the middle of charging through the house on her hobby horse, sword in hand when she saw the man standing outside.

"You're back?!" She gasped, dropping her toys and bolting past her mother, Henry catching her as she rushed him, hoisting her into his arms and letting the little girl sling her arms around his thick neck. "I sorry... I be good." She sniffled, her chubby hands gripping his collar tightly.

"Oh, sweetie. Don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong." Henry soothed, rubbing her back softly. "I was the one that was naughty, can you forgive me for being mean to you and your mommy?"

"Don't go." Briar whimpered, burrowing further into his neck, her sobs only increasing at his apology.

"I won't, I won't." Henry promised, smoothing down her wild, uncombed hair, looking fearfully up at the child's mother. Was this what she had been dealing with since he had been away?

"She got it in her head you were mad at her, and that's why you weren't coming around anymore." Faye explained, nodding him inside.

"I'm so sorry." Henry repeated, holding the toddler a little tighter as he slid past her mother, perching himself on the arm of the couch as she sobbed into his neck.

"You understand why I'm not too keen on second chances?" Faye sighed, locking the door behind herself. "I'm not going to keep putting her though this. I don't expect you to change your lifestyle, so when we fall to the backburner again, please, do me a favor and stay gone. It's not fair to her."

"I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I truly have been busy."

"I know. That's your life." Faye shrugged, leaning against the archway to the living room.

"What can I do to make it up?"

"You can't. You just have to understand that this is the last time I will allow this to happen. If you get too busy for us again, I won't open the door the next time you come knocking." Faye's declaration hung in the air, the sureness of her voice leaving no room for argument or further exchange of words. A desperate sort of silence befell the two adults, the only noise in the house being made by the small girl in Henry's arms.

Briar's sobs slowly gave way to small sniffles and hiccups, her tiny hands refusing to release his shirt, unashamedly wiping her nose on the fabric. Henry was the one to finally break the suffocating silence that had taken over the room.

"Could I ask for your help with something?"

"What might that be, Mr. Cavill?"

"Please, Faye. Henry. Call me Henry, or anything else really. I didn't mean to hurt you or set us back months. Call me any number of mean names, just... not that." Henry pleaded, resting his head against Briar's.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I need to shave my head." Henry sighed after a long moment, turning sad eyes up to her.

"You want me to shave your head?"

"You're the only one I trust to do it right now."

"You literally have a hairstylist on set."

"This is different." Henry insisted.

"How is this different?"

"Believe it or not, I like my hair. Shaving it off isn't exactly a fun time for me."

"Is the tape getting to painful to remove?" Faye asked, raising an inquisitive brow.

"I mean, it will be a plus not having to deal with that for a while, but no. I... I have a screen test in a few days. Over zoom, but a screen test none the less."

"Oh, congrats."

"But the role calls for a military style cut." Henry continued. "Which means it all has to go."

"What role is it for?" Faye asked, crossing the room to run her fingers through his unruly curls.

"Mass Effect." Henry divulged, leaning into her touch.

"So you showed up for a haircut?" Faye asked, detangling his hair with her fingers.

"I showed up because I missed you, but it made me realize you're the only one I'm comfortable with doing it. I've been dreading it for over a week now."

"I only have scissors here. The best I can do is a hack job." Faye informed, continuing to play with his hair absently. It was so soft when he didn't try to tame it. The products that kept it in check, looking so neat and orderly, always made it stiff and crunchy. His natural hair was a thing of beauty.

"I have clippers back at my house. You're both more than welcome to stay the night."

"You know Briar won't stay in the guest room." Faye sighed, rolling her eyes.

"I'm fairly certain I'm not in good enough standing with you for us to be doing anything that young eyes shouldn't see." Henry chuckled, looking hopefully up at the woman gently running her nails over his scalp.

"You are not." Faye confirmed around a giggle of her own, playfully tugging at his hair.

"Easy, love, the baby is right here." Henry lightheartedly scolded, raising his brow at her.

"You should have mentioned you enjoyed that sooner. No time to take advantage of it before I chop it all off now." Faye sighed, reluctantly letting her hand fall away, Henry reaching out to pull her closer, looking up at her hopefully.

"What are the odds I can talk you out of a kiss?" He asked, staring longingly at her mouth. Faye smirked and rolled her eyes in mock annoyance, leaning down to allow him to press a slow, affectionate kiss to her lips, reluctantly pulling back when Briar began to stir from her crying fueled power nap against his neck. "There you are, sleepy head." Henry chuckled, easing the child down to his lap instead.

"You here?" Briar asked, rubbing her still red eyes, staring up at him with a wobbly lower lip.

"I'm here. Would it be ok if you and Mommy stay at my house tonight?" Henry asked, wiping away the dried tears from her face.

"I bring Bunny?" She asked, her face finally splitting into a grin when Henry agreed to her request.  

"You go get Bunny, I'll pack you a few things." Faye instructed, Henry reluctantly setting the girl down so she could do as her mother asked.

"Thank you, so much." Henry sighed, pulling the tiny woman against his large frame, dropping his head to rest against the top of her chest.

"For letting you use my tits as a pillow?" Faye teased, running her fingers through his hair again, wanting to memorize the feel of his curls before she had to chop them all off.

"Secuititty." Henry chuckled, pulling her in to straddle his hips, needing to be even closer to her. "Thank you for giving me another chance."

"Try not to blow it."

"I'll do my absolute best."  

@Xxxkatxo @Weallhaveadestiny

[luminescencefics]

you feel like home - part three

He’s smiling then, and Jackson takes that as his cue to continue snuggling Luna into his lap. Ryan’s eyes shift from her new small friend to his father leaning against his doorframe wearing slouchy grey joggers and a graphic t-shirt that shows off his decorated toned arms that she can’t seem to stop looking at.

“Is this our new thing? Meeting up in hallways?” Harry asks, and Ryan can feel the butterflies take flight in her stomach, stretching their wings along her ribcage and floating up through her body, leaving her feeling far too many things all at once.

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***

Luna’s Great Escape

It’s been two days since Ryan last saw Harry in her doorway, and she’s grateful for the rainstorm that’s been plaguing north central London ever since he left her heart racing that afternoon. The rain hasn’t stopped roaring, presumably ruining Jackson’s playtime in the park, allowing Ryan a short period of time to catch her breath.

She’s spent the past two days in a bit of a drunken stupor. After Harry uttered those words to her in the hallway before entering his own flat, Ryan ripped open the parcel and finished her work for the day, sending over her inspections and adjustments to her supervisor in a daze before the clock struck five. Afterward, she tore off her flannel pajama bottoms and shoved them into the depths of her drawer to hopefully never be seen again, traipsing into her bathroom to turn the tub on, a few bottles of Carlsberg nestled tightly under her armpit.

It’s not that Ryan was avoiding her feelings, because she truly didn’t understand them. After two beers, she came to the conclusion that the bubbling in her gut and the warmth on her cheeks, the fluttering of her heart and the pinch in her breath—was all due to the fact that she found Harry annoyingly attractive.

Ryan’s no stranger to attractive men. Her awkwardness practically disappears after a few shots of tequila have settled into her bloodstream, allowing her to hold a conversation with a handsome man without the overwhelming urge to stutter over her words or shift in her heeled boots from nervousness. Most times, in her debilitated state, she’s gotten lucky with a quick shag and a fumbling exit hidden under the darkness of the night. But now, as she sits in her bathtub nursing her fourth beer, a Kiehl’s face mask hardened over her skin, she’s not sure how much alcohol she would need to consume in order to appear seemingly normal in front of Harry.

That was last night. Now, as her hangover starts to settle in, Ryan’s decided that she needs advice. The brutally honest kind that usually fell unapologetically from the lips of her best mate Fiona. 

“So let me get this straight, your new neighbor just so happens to be fit as all hell, and you’ve had a handful of conversations with him without making a complete fool of yourself, and you still haven’t shagged him? What am I missing here, Ry?” Fiona’s voice calls out from Ryan’s mobile that’s leaning against her porcelain fruit bowl, the camera angle allowing her to be able to see Fiona while attempting to cook some sort of pasta dish to cure the throbbing in her head.

“Fee, I got fucking rug burn on my knee from tripping over my own bloody feet the first time I met him!” Ryan recalls, the memory causing her head to shake aggressively, trying her hardest to expel it from her brain.

“Well, I did say complete fool,” Fiona retorts, causing Ryan to roll her eyes as she tries her hardest to follow the vodka sauce recipe she found on Pinterest. She’s eyeing the heavy cream she just added to the saucepan, wondering if the color should be pinker.

“I think it’s for the best if I just continue avoiding him for the rest of my life,” Ryan says, opening the box of ziti and throwing it into the boiling pot on the back left burner. 

She can hear Fiona laugh over the hiss of the water. “Stop with the dramatics! You’re starting to sound like me.”

Ryan just ignores her friend, stirring the sauce that’s starting to smell. She instantly reaches for the parmesan cheese, adding more aimlessly to change the viscosity into something that doesn’t resemble broth. 

“This could be great for you, Ry,” Fiona says through the screen once Ryan’s reappeared in front of her.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Ryan asks, a bit distracted with the way the saucepan on the hob begins to gurgle inconspicuously.

“Because he’s fit. And he literally lives right next door. This is fantastic news! You can get laid without even leaving your building! Especially during quarantine with the entire city on lockdown!” While Ryan loves her friend, she hates the way Fiona says certain words, her voice level rising with each stressed syllable. She’s speaking so loudly that Ryan thinks back to how Harry referred to hearing Mrs. Bingsley banging about in the kitchen when she used to live in this unit, and immediately Ryan lowers the volume on her mobile, grabbing it from its spot against the fruit bowl and turning into her living room to be as far away from the thin walls as possible.

“I’m not sleeping with him, Fiona. I literally just met him,” Ryan says, sitting on the arm rail of her couch, watching Luna in her periphery continue sleeping soundly against the throw pillows. 

“But you want to.”

Ryan stays silent, wondering if that’s what the bubbling and fluttering and pinching of all her insides means. Wondering if all of these feelings can simply be associated to sexual attraction.

“Why don’t you knock on his door and ask for a plunger or something?” Fiona says, breaking the silence. Ryan instantly disagrees, her eyes widening in fear.

“No, that’s a terrible idea! I don’t want him to think I’ve clogged up my fucking toilet,” Ryan shrieks, knowing that move would definitely work on a girl like Fiona—confident, unrelenting, and fearless. But for a girl like Ryan, whose cheeks turn red whenever a boy like Harry even looks in her direction, she knows there’s no way she can handle that.

Fiona sighs. “You’re probably right.” 

Before Ryan can respond, the blaring sound of the smoke detector going off from the kitchen interrupts her thoughts. “Shit!” she screeches, jumping up from her seated position and running into the kitchen, her mobile clutched in her fist as she approaches the stovetop. The saucepan with the once pinkish-red sauce has now turned black, the edges burnt to a crisp, smoke rising from the top because Ryan forgot to lower the heat to a simmer. The pot with the pasta has boiled over, water falling onto the burner with a loud fizzle. “Fuck!”

“Christ, Ryan! Only you can burn fucking pasta!” Fiona shouts through her mobile, and Ryan immediately discards the device on the countertop, flicking the burners off. She reaches for the dishtowel near the sink, waving it under the smoke detector to make the incessant noise cease.

“It won’t fucking stop!” Ryan bellows, switching the towel to her left arm. If Harry didn’t hear her before, he definitely heard her now, and the thought is enough to make her wave her arms frantically, praying for the smoke detector to shut off.

“Open the front door, get some airflow in the flat, you twit! Twenty-seven and still can’t cook a bloody meal, it’s a shock how you’ve survived this long on your own—”

Ryan doesn’t stay in the kitchen long enough to hear the rest of Fiona’s comment. Instead, she’s spinning on her heels towards her front door, opening it up partly in hope to get the smell of burnt food out of her flat.

Just as she walks back into the kitchen, the beeping finally stops, and Ryan feels as if she can finally breathe again. Her cheeks are stained red from the exertion of flailing her arms about, the stray hairs from her low ponytail sticking to the nape of her neck uncomfortably. She takes in the state of her kitchen, annoyed with herself that she got too preoccupied with Fiona’s ramblings instead of focusing on cooking her pathetic meal.

“Have you died?” The sound echoes from the countertop where Ryan left her mobile, and for a moment Ryan forgets that Fiona was waiting for her. She saunters over slowly, leaning her mobile on the toaster oven so that she can rest her bent elbows on the countertop, her hands falling over her cheeks in embarrassment. 

“Knew I should’ve gone with the boxed mac and cheese,” Ryan mumbles, catching her breath.

Fiona laughs. “I appreciate the attempt, Jamie Oliver. You’ve probably scared Luna half to death, poor thing.” 

At the mention of her kitten’s name, Ryan immediately swivels her head around to the living room, eyes falling to the spot on the couch her white British Shorthair was just occupying. But when she looks closer, she realizes that Luna is gone.

She quickly stands up straight, telling Fiona she’ll call her back before ending the FaceTime call, entering the living room to search every nook and cranny for her kitten. Luna’s small body is nowhere near the couch or armchairs, her cat tree is empty, and when Ryan takes a look in her bedroom and finds absolutely nothing, she’s suddenly filled with fear at the fact that her kitten has disappeared.

Before Ryan can have a full-blown meltdown at the loss of her meal and kitten in the span of ten minutes, she hears the faint echo of a meow from the other side of her front door. A tiny giggle follows after, and suddenly Ryan’s head is peering out into the hallway, falling on the sight of Luna laying on the carpet with her tummy up in the air, and Jackson’s small hands rubbing soothing circles in her fur.

“What would your dad say about you leaving the flat without him?” Ryan calls out from her doorframe, watching the way Jackson’s face lights up when he realizes it is her speaking to him.

“Daddy will probably be mad. But I heard the kitty outside when I was playing! I didn’t know you had one!” He’s smiling so wide it causes Ryan to immediately do the same, despite her borderline breakdown a few moments prior. She trots over towards the pair, crouching down in front of them and balancing on the heels of her socked-clad heels, watching the way Luna purrs at Jackson’s soft strokes.

“I do. This is Luna,” Ryan answers, grinning when Jackson begins cooing at the tiny animal.

“Hi Luna, I’m Jackson. You’re so soft.” He’s whispering to her and Ryan isn’t quite sure why, and when Luna suddenly flips over and sits on Jackson’s lap, Ryan feels her heart swell at the sight of two tiny things cuddling up to one another.

The silence is broken by a gruff, frustrated voice. “Jackson! You can’t keep runnin’ off—oh.”

Three pairs of different colored eyes look up at the intrusion, and suddenly Harry’s anger dissipates at the sight of his son holding a cute kitten in his lap. A cute kitten that just so happens to belong to his even cuter neighbor who he seemingly can’t stop thinking about.

He’s smiling then, and Jackson takes that as his cue to continue snuggling Luna into his lap. Ryan’s eyes shift from her new small friend to his father leaning against his doorframe wearing slouchy grey joggers and a graphic t-shirt that shows off his decorated toned arms that she can’t seem to stop looking at. 

“Is this our new thing? Meeting up in hallways?” Harry asks, and Ryan can feel the butterflies take flight in her stomach, stretching their wings along her ribcage and floating up through her body, leaving her feeling far too many things all at once.

Ryan just smiles shyly, swallowing harshly when Harry crosses his arms over his broad chest, his large palms cupping his bulging biceps under the thin material of his shirt. She coughs into her fist, realizing now that she probably should stand up from her crouched position so that she’s no longer staring up at him underneath the cover of her eyelashes.

“Daddy look! Ryan has a kitty!” Jackson squeals, his cheek squished against Luna’s tiny face as he pets behind her ears, causing her whole body to vibrate with a deep purr.

Harry looks between Luna and Ryan, that slow smirk grazing his lips that causes Ryan’s cheeks to burn with a deep blush. “I can see that, Bubs.” His voice is so deep Ryan can feel it settle into her bones, and suddenly she wishes her hair wasn’t tied behind her head in a ponytail so that she could hide her reddened cheeks under the deep brown tendrils. 

Before she can speak, a loud whistle from Harry’s flat breaks the silence. His upper body shifts away from the doorframe so that he’s standing straight, arms falling back to his sides as he peers behind the entranceway to ensure that the steam is blowing from the spout of the kettle on the hob.

“Fancy some tea, Ryan?” Harry asks once he’s turned back in her direction. 

Ryan quickly stumbles to stand upright, wiping her sweaty palms on her cotton biker shorts. An oversized band tee she stole from her ex-boyfriend swishes with her hasty movements, and she can feel her head shaking before her mouth can say no.

“Uh, I’m okay. Don’t want to impose or anything,” she stutters, the sound of her thick woolen mid-calf socks scuffling against the carpeting with her incessant shuffling due to the influx of nerves that begin creeping up her spine.

“Please, Ryan? I can play with Luna! I’m a great sitter,” Jackson proclaims loudly from his seated position behind her. Once again, Ryan finds herself struggling to say no to her new friend with just one look into his beady green eyes. With nothing but a small smile, Ryan’s nodding in Jackson’s direction, her grin growing larger when he scoops up Luna in his little arms, ducking past his father and entering the flat.

Harry chuckles, holding the door open a bit wider so that Ryan can follow him inside.

She’s watching as he ducks into the kitchen, shutting off the burner so that the whistling kettle can quiet down. Ryan watches Jackson plop Luna on the soft emerald rug, laying on his stomach so that he can observe her every move. After guaranteeing that her kitten is in good hands, Ryan enters the kitchen, settling on one of the dark leather barstools and watching Harry grab two tea mugs from the cabinet above the sink.

As his arm extends to reach the top shelf, Ryan can’t help but take note of the contrast between his right and left arm. His left arm was ornamented with various black etchings, flowing across his skin in a strange way that somehow looked beautiful. When Ryan watches his right arm reach out to grab the tea bags, the untouched skin practically blinding against the harsh overhead lights, she feels her throat suddenly dry up—and she’s left wondering if she should add this to her growing list of symptoms she feels whenever she’s around Harry.

“Sugar? Milk?” Harry asks, his back still to her as he rummages around the drawers to prepare their tea. 

“Sure.” She’s distracted by the way his thin t-shirt practically hides nothing, the ebb and flow of his back muscles constricting with each gentle movement he makes as he grasps the sugar from the counter and grips the milk from the fridge.

When he turns to meet her at the kitchen island, he clutches both mugs in one hand, the other holding both the sugar jar and milk carton. Ryan’s forced to look away, her mind completely fogging over at the site.

The sound of the ceramic mugs clinking against the granite counter causes Ryan to look up, smiling softly when he pushes the tea in her direction. Just before her hands can clasp around the handle, she regards the black script tattoo above the crook of his elbow, the words Jackson in lowercase lettering make her breath hitch in her throat.

“How have you been, all right?” Harry asks from across the island, reaching for the milk and adding a generous amount to the murky tea. His eyes are busy focusing on the task at hand, and Ryan can finally feel herself calm down a bit.

“Yeah, been okay. You?” she responds, blowing a bit on her tea before bringing the mug to her lips, swallowing deeply and reveling in the taste of the brew. Harry’s eyebrows arch when he notices that she takes her tea black, but he doesn’t make a comment about it, choosing instead to rest his forearms on the counter, pushing his mug a bit closer towards Ryan’s as he leans against the island, infiltrating her personal space just the tiniest bit.

“Yeah, okay. Bit shit with the weather, though. Jackson’s been going crazy,” he comments, his mouth far too distracting when he licks the spilled over tea on his lower lip. Ryan flicks her head over in Jackson’s direction, thankful that she can look at something other than Harry’s stupidly good-looking face.

Ryan hums in agreement, bringing the tea back to her lips as she swivels back in her stool, her eyes back on Harry’s. 

“That cat of yours will give him another reason to talk about you for hours,” Harry says with a grin.

“If it weren’t for his knack of sneaking out of your flat, Luna probably would have ended up on the seventh floor. Guess I owe him a proper thank you,” Ryan counters, smiling at the fact that she made Harry laugh.

“Little shit never listens to me,” Harry says lightly, and Ryan suddenly wonders if he has any help looking after Jackson.

She starts to look around the kitchen for any hints of a feminine touch. The state of his flat is disgustingly clean, and when she observes the fridge to see if there are any photographs of Jackson’s mum, she’s found that there’s nothing but artwork most likely done by the hands of a four-year-old.

When she shifts her head to the other side of the room, where the kitchen flows into the living room, she doesn’t really find anything new. The walls are still filled with records, the instruments are still lining the walls, the couch is still void of throw pillows. Ryan tries to visualize the entranceway, trying her hardest to remember if she noticed any heeled boots or women’s jackets on the coat rack.

She hasn’t known Harry long, barely a month at this point, and in that short period of time she’s never heard him speak about a woman before. Ryan’s not stupid—she knows that both sexes are needed to produce a child—but she’s truly never seen a woman enter or exit Harry’s flat.

Granted, it’s only been a month. And she isn’t really sure if she can call him her friend yet, therefore she feels a bit odd in asking. Ryan’s come to the conclusion that maybe Jackson’s mum is an essential worker, a nurse perhaps, a profession in which she has the luxury of leaving her home to go to work.

“Ryan?” Harry’s oaky voice breaks Ryan out of her headspace, and suddenly she’s blinking in Harry’s direction, embarrassed at the fact that she wasn’t listening to anything he had just said to her in the last few minutes.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” she responds lamely, bringing the mug to her lips with the goal of hiding the lower half of her flushed cheeks.

Harry just laughs, cocking his head to the side to observe her intently. “Doesn’t matter. Lost you for a minute in there.”

“Right. Sorry about that,” Ryan responds, wishing Harry would stop looking at her as if she were the most fascinating creature on the planet. 

“Does that happen a lot?” Harry asks quietly, suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to know every little thing about her.

Ryan’s eyes squint in confusion. “Does what happen?”

“That,” Harry starts, taking a sip of his tea without tearing his eyes away from Ryan’s. “You getting lost in your own head.”

Ryan quietly contemplates Harry’s comment, watching the way he watches her with intrigue. As a serial overthinker, Ryan knows that she retreats sometimes, mulling over her words intensely before speaking. Unlike Fiona who blurts every thought that runs through her head, Ryan’s always been more critical, obsessing over every detail before verbalizing. It’s the only thing that helps subdue her social anxiety.

But she’s found that whenever she’s around Harry, she can’t bring herself to think about anything, really. It’s as if her mind is blank, encouraging her to speak what she truly feels, without all the thinking that usually comes along with it.

She’s not quite sure what that all means.

So she just shrugs, sipping softly. “Sometimes, yeah.”

Harry nods before changing the subject, which makes Ryan feel relieved. “So, my quiet, reclusive neighbor is also a cat lady? It’s far too fitting, Ryan.” He’s teasing her a bit and it’s enough to make Ryan giggle, the sound practically causing Harry to splutter his tea over the rim of his mug. 

“I’m all about clichés, clearly,” Ryan responds, her eyes zeroing in on the hollow dimples that appear around his mouth whenever he laughs. She finds herself enjoying the sight very much.

“She’s cute,” Harry says, his eyes shifting from Luna to the woman sitting across from him. Ryan assumes he’s talking about her kitten, and she smiles, swiveling around in her chair to watch Jackson giggle whenever Luna’s paws graze his arms. But when she feels Harry’s gaze on her cheek, she’s wondering if he’s talking about something else, too.

“He’s good with her,” Ryan acknowledges, impressed with how gentle Jackson was with Luna. Most toddlers his age were too handsy with her, scaring her off before she even got the chance to get used to them. But Jackson is proving to be a natural, allowing Luna to grow comfortable around him before he started playing with her.

Harry finally looks over to his son, smiling at the sight in the living room. “Yeah, he’s a good kid.”

Ryan turns round to face Harry again. “He really is. Guess he has you to thank for that. And his mum, I suppose.”

Harry’s face suddenly loses its grin, and Ryan’s wondering if she’s said too much. His eyes have lost their shine, and the granite countertop seems to be more interesting than Ryan’s face. Before she can say anything, an apology or some version of one, the computer in the corner of the living room begins to ring loudly, causing Harry to stand upright and peer at the clock on the microwave screen.

“Shit. Forgot I had a four o’clock meeting,” he says quickly, gathering his mug in one hand and crossing the threshold so that he’s entering the living room space. Ryan stands up, frowning down at her half-emptied cup of tea, wondering what blend Harry uses because it’s just that good, and she’s a bit sad to leave it unfinished.

Harry turns around, catching the frown on Ryan’s face. “You can finish it at yours if you’d like,” he offers with a small smile. 

“Oh, no it’s okay, I wouldn’t want to—”

“—Ryan,” Harry says, cutting her off and walking towards her so that he’s fully in her line of vision, “It’s fine. ‘S not like I don’t know where you live.” The smirk is back on his face and the blush is back coating Ryan’s cheeks, and suddenly the balance has been restored in their small universe.

Ryan nods, clutching the mug tightly in her hands and side-stepping Harry in order to reach Jackson and Luna on the living room floor. “‘M sorry, champ, but Luna and I have got to go.”

“Really?” Jackson says, tearing his eyes away from Luna and onto the two adults standing in front of him. He’s frowning and Ryan instantly feels bad.

“Yeah, Bubs, daddy’s got work to do. I’m sure you can see Luna again very soon, if Ryan’s okay with it,” Harry says, causing two pairs of green eyes to fall onto her frame.

She nods quickly, crouching down in front of her small friend and grabbing Luna in her unoccupied hand. “Of course, champ. We’ll schedule a playdate.”

Jackson grins enthusiastically, wiggling on the floor with excitement. Before Ryan can respond, Harry appears in front of her, a small smile on his face.

“I’ll see you later, Ryan,” he mutters in a low timbre.

“Bye, Harry. Thanks again for the tea,” she responds, heading towards the doorway in her socks and leaving the confines of his flat, trying her hardest to catch her breath in the silence of the empty hallway.

It’s only once she’s back in her own flat, her sad attempt of dinner disposed of in the bin and in its place an oversized bowl of cereal in one hand, with Harry’s mug in the other, Ryan comes to a startling realization.

Harry’s tea mug was a far better alternative than the fucking plunger.

*** A/N: Hi guys, here’s part three of you feel like home! I hope you enjoyed it. Part four will be posted on Thursday November 19, so feel free to chat with me in the meantime! This was a submission for the 1DFF Quarantine Challenge, which has other amazing writers participating as well, so feel free to check out the page! x

taglist: @stylishmuser @vikki1220 @greatestview @verorax @cronias13 @adoremp3 @ilovegolden @taintedwonder @stepping-into-the-light​ @onlyphysicallypresent​ @dontwanttobealone​ @justsaying20​ @elemayox​ @awomanindeniall​ @ihearthemcallingforyou​ @halloweenniall @live-at-the-forum​ @kakayam​ @harryinsweatersandbandanas​ @hopelessly-harry​ @ficnarry​ @morethanamelodyy​ @niallgolden​ @harryswinterberries​ @caramello-styles

[theyarebothgunshot]

ROSE I AM FREAKING OUT HAVE YOU SEEN THE PREQUEL STUFF???? WHAT IS GOING ON, my god... I was literally about to go to sleep, decided to check Tumblr one last time and see this.... what WHAT!! WHATTTT!!!!!! I don't even know if this is good bad or what but just JENSEN IS PRODUCING A SUPERNATURAL PREQUEL AND DEAN'S GONNA BE THE NARRATOR OR Sth LIKE???? -🐸

YEAH i am normal about this <3 (jk i am also freaking out) welcome to: people screaming to me in my inbox about prequelgate ft. j/2 fallout theory. let's goooo!

Another copypasta and suddenly chaos machine is full on gay I love this prophecy

you know whats funny i just checked the j/2 tag and i feel like for the first time in a long time they are starting to realise that maybe THEY should be the ones who are "gutted" *sips tea*

ROSE HOLY SHIT ROOOOOOOOSE ITS HAPPENING HOLY SHIIIIIT

YEAH

Nevermind just read prequel and well good luck I guess but just you know kind of bleh who wants to watch John Winchester well let’s have hope anyways

i know a lot of people are bummed out but i am kind of very excited actually?? i trust robbie and even though yeah j*hn winchester turned into a nasty abusive bastard, it can be interesting to explore how it all started (imo). it's just the first of many stories they can tell.

I can only accept this circus if it’s Dean telling the stories to his and Cas’ kids and then we have a revival to show that the whole finale was in fact the end Chuck wanted there Jensen I fixed it

i would not say no to this

heyloo bee anon here

um- wtf is happening?

jackles prequel series?? why? i want to be excited about this but sheesh im scared

because supernatural is never dead <3

okay, but, jensen... john winchester ≠ jdm, you don’t have to go /that/ hard for him 🙃

true true... though i am waiting for jdm to comment on this, please i need it

WAIT A SECOND J2 FALLOUT THEORY TRUE??

LMAO HELL YEAH BESTIE

Rose you really picked the worst time to sleep for real

bestie it was literally 4 in the morning, what do you expect from me sdfjsfhsf

I can’t literally can’t we were all right LMAO j2 fallout theory is real and cockles (Misha supporting Jensen) is [gunshots] I’m just laughing cause what the hell is this timeline we’re living LMAOOOOOOOOOO

we would always end up here <3

Do we have the copypaste anons to thank for JP basically confirming the J2 fallout? lol 🦚

yes, everybody say 'thanks annoying idiots!'

ROSE, WAKE UP, COME HERE,

THERE'S A LOT GOING ON FFS

YEAH I KNOW BUT I NEEDED SLEEP

Anticipating that there's going to be a lot of yelling about the prequel on here: I am cackling, but also, I mean, the first time Dean got a look into his parent's past, Cas was the catalyst: literally entered Dean's mind and catapulted him to the 70s. So idk, it's not completely unreasonable to expect some Cas cameos, maybe setting up a parallel timeline since Dean is narrating. What I'm saying is, this is Jackles, he's getting JDM and Misha in on this lmao -Honeymoon Anon

you were right lmfaooo also i fully agree. misha's tweet further cemented that thought for me. he knew about this prequel and i dont think he is cas-baiting us, i think he'll be involved. i'd also be obsessed to see jensen and jdm act together again (though idk who jdm could play seeing as it's a prequel and he is way too old to play young j*hn)

longlivethetribbles heeft gevraagd:

Heyyyyyy bestie, are you SEEING the absolute madness going on right now holy shit

well a little late but I SURE AM BESTIE

bestie wake up pls s16 finale just dropped.

- 🍯

and WHAT a great one it was

I love coming home from work to see all of the chaos unfolding on Tumblr and Twitter. I'm absolutely buzzing right now. I'll probably still be here by the time you wake up and check tumblr 😂 - 🐢

lmaooo and were you still awake?? did you see my freak out??

Oooh bestie wake the fuck up, I know you’re gonna be excited for this one jsnsjsj

god i had SUCH a morning like. it's 12:00 now and all i did since i woke up is check tumblr rip

short summary: jen and dee gain the rights, they post on ig/twitter about a prequel ft john and mary that no one asked for, the fandom loses its everloving shit as usual, they trend on twitter thanks to the beloved twt intern who missed us, misha qt’s jen about cas possibly benefiting from being in the prequel, then j*red qt’s jensen abt how his feelings got hurt by him not being told about a prequel his character as no involvement in & he initially throws a tantrum, and the rest is history - 🦋 anon (ps: i hope this helps a little, i’ve been scattered brained trying to keep up with it all night lmao so pls let me know if i missed anything, bug crew !!)

thank you so much darling i figured it out eventually but this is a helpful summary!!!

I hope you enjoyed waking up to all of this XD -🐢

i sure did!!! also that answers my question about you being awake lmao

I WILL NEVER EVER EVER FORGIVE MYSELF FOR SLEEPING THROUGH ALL OF THIS DRAMA AND NOT EXPERIENCING IT IN PERSON I DIDN'T NEED THIS SLEEP - tea anon

well the party was still going strong this morning so im not TOO "gutted" see what i did there lmaooo

Now that you are caught up with the news... So idk if you remember this but...didn't jarpad tell jackles he was up for a reboot in an online panel? And jackles answered that this was news to him??

-🍯

yeah i think you are right but he was clearly joking and didnt expect jackles to actually be working on something already

J2 anon spare more of those anons let's finish this - tea anon

please, we're having a ball in this bitch

I saw a post on tumblr where someone said now that Kripke gave J&D the rights, maybe they’re starting with a prequel just to end on a reboot in years time and honestly ? I wanna believe that so badly. This is tinhatty but what if this is all calculated in a way that makes it so that Jensen is slowly starting to fix everything that was wrong with spn - now that he has the rights and he’s slowly making spn his own story ?! I mean he did say in his ig post he wants to ‘fill in the rest’ - and maybe Mary and John’s story is only the beginning of spn related content from J&D to come ??? Maybe he wants to give spn the justice it deserves ?? Thoughts ??

i dont think this is tinhatty at all i think this is very possible and not that much of a reach. i could see this happening yeah for sure

want to hear something funny. I found out I had a ruptured blood vessel in my eye because I was sending my friend a video freaking out when the prequel news dropped and I noticed the corner of my eye was red af. and when I got back online jared had tweeted.

DJFHSJD ANON THE CHAOS OF IT ALL, HELP, are you okay? <3

rose.. bestie... how are you feeling about The News? nsfshsf being european is a curse </3 🐞

i feel GREAT im living for it i feel on top of the world tbh (and yeah it really is dsjfhs)

What am I waking up to I can't WHAT I rested my eyes for like 5 minutes help *hits reblog button* - anon anon

yep yep essentially djfhs

“Jensen and Misha are Co workers who barley talk”

I can’t be sure of course but I’m fairly certain that this is the copypasta that brought the j/2 fallout theory back to life. Who’s apparently ‘barely talking’ now? skansjsjsj. It’s almost prophetic, these j/2 anons have superpowers I’m telling ya.

-poker face anon

next time we get one of them we should be thanking them lmaooo

ok, but are we gonna talk about the "When Daneel and I formed Chaos Machine Productions, we knew that the first story we wanted to tell was the story of John and Mary Winchester [...]"-quote because the way this is phrased implies they formed CHAOS MACHINE Productions with the intent of telling this story (first), i haven't been in this dumpster long enough but the name just tickles me in that Misha way, isn't it so sus??? am i missing something???? i mean with this announcement they SURE lived up to that name... 🧩-anon

you are absolutely right, chaos machine SCREAMS misha and we are all here for it!!

hey hey hey. joining the clownverse, there's no way THEE cas girl danneel doesn't know just how much the fandom loves misha and cas. so 2 + 2 = misha in the spn prequel!

AGREED

So I think I finally managed to catch up on wtf happened while I was asleep and my brain melted. What a shit show to wake up to.

Anyway thoughts.

I don't hate the idea of a Mary&John sequel. I think it has the potential to be good (It has the potential to be really bad too, so I'm kind scared).

🕯️🕯️🕯️ manifesting Mary being badass and John being kinda useless🕯️🕯️🕯️

As for the Jensen and J*red thing.

I can see Jensen not telling J*red even if they are still friends, because J*red is kinda good at accidentally telling Secrets. He could have told him right before he announced it so, so that J*red didn't have to find out from twitter. He was on the show for 15 years, he is bound to get asked about it. The public twitter meltdown was really unprofessional so. Like you have Jensen's number J*red. You could have sorted that out in private like a normal person, but instead you choose to act like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

Is it weird that I'm actually going to be kinda that for them if the actually had a falling out, even tho I don't like J*red all that much. They seemed to be really important to each other and while I thought before that the might have triefted apart a bit, I didn't think that the where actively fighting.

- 🐌 anon

the thing is, the polite/normal thing for jensen to do was text him before announcing it on twitter. it's weird he didn't, and that makes me believe that maybe yeah they did have a falling out. especially with the way j*red responded to it on twitter. if he had no other reason to be this upset (no prior beef or falling out) you'd think that he wouldn't be responding like this. on the other hand, the man is a mysterie to me so who the hell knows. i'm not gonna mourn about it if they did/do grow apart because j*red is just.... awful imo.

[littleoddwriter]

F#ck You, Don’t Leave Me | Roman Sionis x Male!Reader

"17 and 18. I need you + I can't do this anymore: roman x reader, reader is suffering from a meltdown (it could be a build up thing, it could be triggered by something, you can choose) and choice words are thrown, they get into an argument sorta thing but roman doesn't notice at first and thinks reader is just being bitchy but then roman looks at reader and sees the signs that this is more than a petty fight (18. I can't do this anymore, I'll let you decide what "this" is like relationship, life, everything) so roman helps calm reader down by being soothing (soft but in a roman way, I know you can keep him in character because you're brilliant) and then reader is like "I need you, don't leave me" (17) sorta thing, so more hurt/comfort idk I just know you'd do this sorta writing justice because I know you get how I feel" @theamazingspideymerc​

summary; You have a meltdown/an episode and a misunderstanding, which morphed into a fight between you and Roman. It gets resolved in the end, though.

notes; TW // Meltdown/Episode (I based this off my really bad BPD Episodes, so, idk); Yelling/Fighting; Rough Handling (shortly mentioned because Roman grabs your wrists a little too tightly); Abandonment Issues (I hope those were all possible triggers). Male!Reader; Light Daddy!Kink (Roman’s usual pet names for reader); Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Pettiness; Misunderstanding.

You felt it bubbling up time and time again over the past week. Every time you pushed it down. Every time you tried to ignore it. Every time you suppressed it until you were completely numb.

But then, something happened - you couldn't even remember what - and you exploded. You started shouting, screaming, throwing things, punching and kicking. You cried, tears burned tracks into your reddened cheeks. Your vision was blurry and red.

Roman ran over to you, when he started registering the commotion coming from the bedroom. When he saw you like this, he stopped in his tracks for a moment, confused, unsure.

"Would you fucking stop already? Fuck! What the fuck is wrong with you?" He yelled at you, trying to be heard by you and agitated by your behaviour.

"Fuck you! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! Fucking go!" You shouted right back.

It lit a fire in him.

No one fucking talked to him like that, let alone yelled at him.

In quick strides he came right up to you, getting in your face. With a little too much force, he gripped onto your wrists, just like Victor usually did with him, when he was so enraged.

"Fucking look at me, you little asshole!" He snarled.

Breathing heavily, you did. You didn't say anything, just stared at him with so much hurt and anger in your eyes.

"Listen you little fuck. No one fucking talks to me like that. No one. You hear me? I don't give a fucking fuck that you're my boyfriend. You do not talk to me like that. 'Kay?"

Tears welled up again, burning your eyes once more.

Sometimes you didn't understand why you were even in a relationship with him. Sometimes you didn't understand why he kept you around. Sometimes you didn't understand why something like this hasn't happened earlier.

On the other hand you were confused. What have you said to him? You couldn't remember. You didn't even notice that he was in the room until he was right in your face.

"I-I'm sorry," you said anyway.

What were you even apologising for?

"Good. Clean your shit up, will you? Fucking hell," he rasped, letting go of your wrists and turning his back to you.

Hurt and confused, you stood there, silent tears falling and trying to suppress the sobs that wanted to get out of you so badly.

Fuck you, you asshole! You thought.

Despite your anger and frustration, you did as you were told and cleaned up the mess you've made. All the while, you were still fuming. Tears steadily streamed down your face, quiet snivels left you here and there, when you couldn't hold them back any longer.

When you were done, you went to the bathroom and washed your face with cold water. You stood there for a few minutes, hunched over the sink and wondering just what the fuck happened there. Was this how it was going to end?

No, it couldn't possibly be. It was just a fucking argument. A misunderstanding. But the way he reacted to you left you unsure. You didn't want him to leave you, but you also didn't want to stay with someone who would yell at you - and possibly hurt you - instead of trying to calm you, when you had an episode like that.

Your wrists still throbbed a little because of the tight hold Roman had on them; and so did your heart due to the words he'd said.

The rest of the day, you couldn't help but either ignore or snap at him, whenever he tried to talk to you as if nothing had happened.

You were so fucking hurt.

At night, you went to bed with him as you always did. Instead of cuddling into him, though, you turned your back to him, quietly shedding tears.

The next day, you continued to treat him like that. You knew you were being immature and an asshole; and that you should just open your damn mouth and talk to him about this, but you couldn't make yourself do it. You couldn't gather the courage to do it. You were afraid that if you brought it up, he would really leave you.

What use was putting it off then?

Later that day, you sat on one of the chaise longue's, reading a book.

After a little while, you faintly registered Roman's familiar footfall coming closer. You didn't look up, didn't visibly or audibly acknowledge his presence. He let out a frustrated little noise. Then he sat down next to you. You forced yourself to shift away a little, despite your entire body and mind yelling at you to lean into him.

"Fuck. You know I'm not good at this fucking sentimental shit. But I received your message. Loud and clear, 'kay?" Roman started, a hint of... desperation? - frustration? - in his otherwise raspy, harsh and yet somewhat soft voice.

You kept quiet and turned to the next page of your book.

"Would you at least fucking listen to - or even just look at me?"

With that, you lowered the book, gently placing it on your lap and looked at him with an inquiring gaze.

He nodded in acknowledgment and thanks.

"Right. So, I- Fuck. 'Kay. I realise that you aren't just being petty since yesterday. I guess what happened there was more than just some senseless words thrown around. Am I wrong?"

"You're not wrong," you whispered.

"Will you tell me what the fuck exactly is happening here, right now? Because if you'd rather break up with me, then you better just fucking do it. Don't fucking play me like that."

"I- I don't know. I just can't do this anymore, Roman."

"You can't do what anymore?"

"Having everyone fucking stomp on me, for example. Having people react so fucking badly to me when I have episodes like that. Having someone spit in my face and tell me that they don't even fucking care that I'm their boyfriend. Just to name a few things."

"Y/N, I didn't mean any of that."

"Yeah, right," you huffed.

"Oh, come on! I wasn't the only one saying some shit there. Don't act like a fucking angel."

"Right, right. What the fuck did I exactly say? 'Cause I honestly can't remember. I didn't even know you were there until you gripped my wrists so tightly and were right in my damn face."

"You didn't?"

"No, I fucking didn't!"

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair, messing it up a little.

"What?"

"I thought- well, it sounded like you were yelling it at me. You were shouting 'Fuck you' repeatedly and told me to 'fucking go'."

"I wasn't talking to you. I'm sorry, no, I- fuck. I wasn't talking to anyone in particular. It just happens when I get like that."

"Right. Shit, baby, this is a mess."

He put a hand on your thigh and squeezed it. You put your own hand over his on your leg, intertwining your fingers.

"I'm sorry. This is all my fault, fuck, I'm sorry," you whimpered.

You felt so fucking guilty. All of this just because you misunderstood each other so badly.

"We're both at fault, I'd say. And you know I'm usually not one to admit to being guilty."

A wry smile forced itself on your face, before you were overcome by the crippling anxiety that you tried to suppress since the fight. You had been so scared that he would leave you.

"I need you, Roman. I need you like air, I- Please don't ever leave me. Please!"

Roman put his arms around you and pulled you flush against his chest, nuzzling your hair.

"Ssshhh, no. I'm not leaving you, baby. You're my little prince after all, hm?" He murmured, shushing you softly.

You nodded against his chest, shifting a little, so that you could wrap your own arms around his middle.

"I'm just so sorry. I've been an asshole instead of just talking to you. I was just so scared that when I- that when I brought it up, you would tell me to fuck off. I'm sorry."

Roman kept shushing you, rocking you back and forth gently.

"It's okay, sweet boy. It's alright. We're alright, 'kay? No break-up. Nothing. Just a stupid misunderstanding. It's over now, 'kay?"

"Okay," you whispered hoarsely.

You pulled back a little and looked up at him. He was smiling at you, tears shone in his eyes. You were taken aback by the sight.

Then he leaned towards you and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. You melted right into it. You had missed it. It has been roughly twenty-four hours since the fight, which was way too fucking long to go without physical affection from Roman.

"You mean so much to me, my little prince," Roman murmured against your lips.

It was the closest thing to a love confession you would ever get from him.