#i have this same rant in my head like every three months

[fabiansociety]

every so often i remember the conversation about lighting in film and i get annoyed all over again

because the thing about film lighting is that film lighting is *expressive* and *subjective* and the fad for only using "believable" lighting to the point that scenes are invisible to the audience just blows right past that. the human eye isn't a camera! people can see in much lower lighting! if you only use the amount of light that would be present in a scene, you are frequently going to end up with a scene that is darker for the audience than it would be for the character IN the scene! that sort of darkness is just as artificial as theatrical light, but with the added bonus of not being able to see anything! argggggh

okay, i'm done, sorry about that

[bowxs]

Omg I loved your Soldier Boy x Reader when he comforts her after that date that went wrong❤️ can we please please please have more of that, just Soldier Boy with his sweet girl who is all heartbroken because all the guys just ghost her after a short time (and it is totally not Bens fault because he would never threaten anyone that came too close to his precious girl wink wink)

thank u for the support!! i hope this is what you wanted

part one part three part four

divider from @uzmacchiato !!!

all ben hears is a huff, your phone hit the coffee table, and the shuffle of blankets before your curled against his side

your head was shoved into his chest, not crying but definitely not happy. just frustrated. the guy you were just talking to- josh- just blocked you. this was the 3rd guy to ghost you this month!

“am i weird” your voice is muffled against ben’s shirt, and you feel his chest vibrate with a familiar hum

“course not, babygirl. why would you ask that, huh? some idiot tell you your weird?” you hear his voice in his chest, his hand moving to rub your arm comfortingly

“some idiot- didnt tell me anything! i just got blocked for no reason!” you whine into his chest like some kid who just got told no to icecream- you really liked josh!

“my poor girl” ben hums, his big hand moving to your hair instead, his fingers running through your strands. at your sigh, ben makes a mental note to send josh the money for following the instructions to ghost you

“how about i take care of you, huh? distract that pretty head of yours from such a terrible thing” ben asks, a small smirk on his face as he tilts your head up to his, met by your pouty expression

“ah- fuck- just like that-” you moan out into the bedsheets, suddenly grateful you got ben to buy the extra soft ones from the way your face was pushed against it

“yeah- i bet no one could fuck you as good as me- no one could make you come as hard as i do-” ben rants on- the same tangent he goes on every time someone ghosts you and hes stuck comforting you

his hands grip your hips, certainly leaving bruises for tomorrow as he pulls your hips back to meet his movements, relishing in how pliable your body was to him

before you know it, the coil in your tummy was ready to snap, and of course ben picks up on it, leaning forward as one arm wraps around your front, reaching your clit as his mouth finds its way to your neck

“yeah babygirl- cum for me- i bet josh couldnt make you cum this hard” his voice his smug. cocky, even, as you spasm and release around him.

and your far too wrapped up in the pleasure to ask- how does ben even know josh’s name?

[honeydippedfiction]

Joe x Angel General #30 “why is arson always your first answer.” With # 7 “ Is that blood?” “Yes but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is-” “You are literally bleeding.”

One thing Angel is going to do? Crash out over her man. The one time she does, she goes viral for it.

1k & Birthday Bash nav | main navigation | reqs | table of contents

#30 “why is arson always your first answer.” & # 7 “ Is that blood?” “Yes but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is-” “You are literally bleeding.”

Joe Burrow x Angel

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

It was a Wednesday. The kind of midweek day where nothing felt right—gray skies, sticky air, and a mood clinging to Joe Burrow like the defensive linemen who kept finding a way past the Bengals’ O-line.

Practice had been brutal. Spirits in the locker room were low. And while Joe wasn’t the type to spiral, the weight of the season—the missed blocks, the broken plays, the endless postgame blame—was heavy.

So when he slid into the car after practice, hoodie half-zipped and hair still wet from the showers, he barely had time to exhale before Angel launched into a full-on rant from the driver’s seat.

Zariyah, their two-and-a-half-month-old daughter, was buckled into her car seat behind them, a pacifier bobbing rhythmically in her mouth as she blinked up at the roof, totally unbothered.

Angel didn’t even wait for the door to close before she launched in.

“You mean to tell me,” she began, one hand on the wheel and the other flying like it was directing traffic in a Beyoncé music video, “that Coach McFlop over there really said you need to play smarter? You? The same Joe who’s been dragging this team like a Costco cart with three busted wheels?”

Joe leaned back against the headrest, watching her with an amused, exhausted smirk.

“And don’t even get me started on the defense. They couldn’t stop a nosebleed if they had a bucket and a plan,” Angel continued. “And the media? The media can kiss my—”

Joe leaned his head back, let out a long, exhausted exhale, and closed his eyes. “Hey, babe.”

“No, no. Don’t ‘hey babe’ me. Because I know exactly what went down at practice today. You think I don’t have sources? You think that equipment manager didn’t DM me the second y’all wrapped?”

Joe cracked one eye open. “You’re texting the equipment guy again?”

“I told you,” she said, eyes on the road, tone deadly serious. “I have a network.”

He let out a slow laugh and shook his head.

Angel wasn’t done.

“I swear, if one more idiot in a headset points the finger at you instead of owning up to that fourth quarter disaster, I will drive down to the stadium with a blowtorch and a Spotify playlist titled ‘Rage, Volume 1. And AGAIN, don’t even get me started on that defense,” she continued, gesturing wildly with one hand while the other stayed on the wheel. “Giving up 380 passing yards and you’re the problem? Please. If I see the D-coordinator in a grocery store, I’m slapping the clipboard out his hand and filing it under ‘community service.’”

“Angel,” Joe interrupted gently, smiling. “Why is arson always your first answer?”

“Because it’s efficient, Joseph,” she snapped. “And these fools have clearly never seen a woman unhinged for her man.”

From the backseat, Zariyah let out a soft coo like she, too, was ride or die.

Angel’s face softened just a little at the sound. “See? She gets it.”

Their destination appeared around the corner: Swirl Up, their go-to frozen yogurt spot. Tucked between a nail salon and a sleepy pet store, it was the kind of small, unassuming place where they could just be a regular couple with a baby and a shared craving for dessert.

It was their spot—lowkey, simple, and always playing early 2000s R&B.

Joe unbuckled and stepped out first, scooping Zariyah from her seat with the kind of practiced gentleness that made Angel’s chest ache every time. He cradled her against his chest, one big hand supporting her head like she was made of glass.

Angel watched them for a beat, then exhaled the last of her rage and followed them into the shop.

It smelled like sweet cream and waffle cones inside, the air cool and clean. Early 2000s R&B hummed low from the speakers—Usher, pre-confessions. A soft smile ghosted over Joe’s lips. For once, it felt like a moment they could breathe.

Joe held Zariyah against his chest as they stepped inside. He rocked her gently, his hand protectively cupped over her tiny back, while Angel scanned the place like a lioness clocking threats in the Serengeti.

They stood in line. Zariyah snuggled into Joe’s hoodie, her small fingers curling against the drawstrings. Joe bounced her lightly on his arm, more out of habit than effort. Angel stood close, their bodies brushing with that familiar, magnetic ease that came from years of being each other’s gravity.

Angel leaned against Joe’s arm while he bounced Zariyah, who was blinking up at the ceiling like it was the Sistine Chapel. That’s when Angel noticed a group of teenagers whispering near the toppings bar, eyes darting toward them like they were witnessing a celebrity Bigfoot sighting.

Three of them huddled near the toppings bar, eyes wide, whispering and nudging each other like middle schoolers at a school dance. One of them—a tall boy with shaggy hair and braces—gathered the courage to walk up, holding his phone like a peace offering.

“Uh… Mr. Burrow?” he asked, voice cracking slightly. “Could I maybe get a picture with you? If that’s okay?”

Joe turned slightly to Angel. Not for permission—he didn’t need that—but to make sure she was comfortable, out of instinct. Just to check in.

She nodded, lips lifting into a small, proud smile, and reached out for Zariyah. “Go ahead, superstar.”

The photo was quick, polite. The kid was beaming like he’d just won the lottery, and when the group left, Angel could hear him whisper-shouting, “Bro! He’s so cool, and his wife is lowkey scary but hot!”

She smirked. “Damn right.”

They ordered—Joe got vanilla with crushed Oreos, Angel picked salted caramel with fresh strawberries—and made their way to their usual booth in the back. Joe sat with Zariyah nestled in the crook of his arm, carefully letting her tiny fingers brush against his spoon, even though she wasn’t eating solids yet. While Angel draped her arm over the back of the seat, finally relaxing.

For a minute, everything was perfect.

Then they heard it.

Two voices—one male, one female—sitting in the booth behind them. The woman sounded like she was just trying to get through the date. The man, unfortunately, had chosen Joe as his topic of the day.

“I’m just saying,” he said, clearly trying to sound like he had authority on the matter, “Burrow’s not that guy anymore. Dude peaked at LSU. He’s a system quarterback. Always has been.”

The girlfriend tried to hush him. “Can you not—he’s right there.”

“I don’t care. Someone’s gotta say it. He ain’t the future. He's fucking Cinderella except his knee is the glass slipper. Broken and worthless.”

Angel’s spoon stopped mid-air.

She hadn’t even looked up yet, but Joe knew—felt—that something had shifted. He didn’t need to hear what had set her off. He already knew what it was.

The booth behind them. A man and his date, talking just a little too loud. Loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. Loud enough for someone who was already riding the edge of protective fury to tip right over.

Joe didn’t look back. He kept his focus on Angel, his instincts sharpened by three years of knowing exactly what her stillness meant.

He reached under the table and placed a firm but gentle hand on her knee. “Babe,” he said low, calm, practiced. “Don’t.”

But the rage had already arrived. She was past the warning stage, beyond talking down.

Angel stood slowly, not with sudden violence, but with the deliberate grace of someone who knew they were about to make a scene. Every line in her body was relaxed—but only in that dangerous, feline way. The calm before the clap of thunder.

Zariyah, now cradled safely in Joe’s arms, blinked up at the shop lights, completely unaware that her mother was about to throw hands over froyo.

Angel’s sneakers barely made a sound as she walked toward the booth.

“Hi,” she said sweetly to the man who’d been running his mouth. Her tone was polite, disarming—but the slight upward curl of her lip made the woman sitting with him stiffen in her seat.

“You wanna repeat what you just said a little louder?” Angel tilted her head, her eyes dancing with fire. “I didn’t quite catch it.”

The guy blinked at her, surprised, then offered a smirk. That kind of smug, performative confidence that only ever came from someone who’d never been punched in the face.

“Look, lady, I’m just calling it like I see it,” he shrugged, half-laughing.

Angel didn’t even blink. “Funny,” she said, “because I don’t remember anyone asking you to call a damn thing. What I do remember is my husband putting in more work before breakfast than you’ve done in your whole life.”

Joe rose from the booth behind her, voice steady but concerned. “Alright, let’s—”

“Let me,” Angel cut in, her back still to him. Her tone brooked no interference. “Handle this.”

The guy’s smirk faltered, but he still stood. Poor fool.

He squared his shoulders like someone trying to remember how testosterone worked. “It’s just my opinion.”

“You’re entitled to your opinion,” Angel said, taking a small step forward, “but here’s the thing. You don’t get to disrespect my husband. Not in front of me. And definitely not in front of my daughter.”

The man scoffed and leaned back in his seat, arms folded like he was settling in for a show. “Please, it’s a free country.” he said with a smirk, “your husband’s just another overhyped quarterback with glass bones and a padded contract. Man’s spent more time in rehab than on the field. Honestly, I don��t know what’s softer—his knee, or his ego.”

His mouth curled upward in smug satisfaction.

Joe’s expression didn’t change—but his eyes flicked down for just a second, that old familiar wound reopening in his chest.

Angel, however, blinked once. Just once.

Then her entire expression dropped into something flat. Focused. Final.

The man barely had time to register the shift.

His mouth opened again—maybe to double down, maybe to gloat—but he didn’t get the chance to finish.

Angel’s fist moved so fast it barely registered.

Crack.

The sound echoed through the frozen yogurt shop like a firecracker. It wasn’t a slap, it was a full-force, knuckles-first right hook—years of boxing classes, weight training, and protective rage behind it. The man’s head snapped to the side violently. He reeled backward, crashing into his own table, a hand flying up to his face as blood immediately began to stream from his nose.

Gasps rang out from every corner of the shop. A spoon clattered to the floor. A child started crying.

Joe was already up and moving, Zariyah still nestled in the crook of his arm.

In one smooth, efficient move, he secured Zariyah against his chest, snatched both frozen yogurt cups from the table with a practiced football grip, and hooked an arm around a very pissed-off Angel practically over his shoulder as he made for the exit.

Angel wasn’t making it easy. She was still craning her neck over his shoulder, arms flailing, as if she had just one more thing to say—or throw.

“Let me just—one more shot!” she hissed, twisting in Joe’s grasp. “He said you weren’t the future, Joe! He said it in front of our child!”

Outside, the dusk had cooled the air. Joe all but wedged her between himself and the SUV, using the car as a barrier and his body as a shield.

His voice dropped low, heavy with command. “Angel. Enough.”

The words hung between them. Her chest heaved with adrenaline and fury, but she stilled.

A beat later, a small whimper floated from behind him.

Zariyah.

Joe glanced down. Their daughter’s little face was starting to scrunch with confusion, her lips puckering like she was gearing up for a cry.

Angel’s focus snapped back.

The fire in her eyes faltered, then dimmed as her gaze locked on her daughter.

Her shoulders dropped. “I wasn’t about to let him disrespect you like that,” she said softly, her voice rough with emotion. “Not when I’ve seen the work. Not when I know the weight you carry. Not in front of her.”

Joe didn’t speak right away. He studied her—his firebrand of a wife, breathing hard and bleeding, her knuckles red and raw but her pride intact.

“I get it,” he said finally, gently. “I do. But you can’t fight the whole world.”

Angel’s lip twitched upward. “You just watch me, Joe Burrow. I will burn the whole fucking thing down about you and Zariyah.”

He was about to respond when his gaze dropped to her right hand. His expression shifted instantly.

“Wait… is that blood?”

Angel looked down casually, flexing her fingers. Her knuckle was angry and red, the skin cracked and beginning to swell.

“Yeah,” she said, brushing it off. “But that’s not important right now. What is important—”

“You are literally bleeding, Angel.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“That is not the flex you think it is.”

She sighed as Joe gently took her injured hand in his, inspecting it with furrowed brows like it belonged to someone precious. His fingers were careful, tender as he examined the bandage, the concern in his eyes impossible to hide. He stepped back, moving toward the car door. With a subtle tilt of his head, he motioned for her to follow him.

Angel slid into the back seat, her hand cradling her yogurt cup, now a sad soup of caramel and strawberry. Zariyah was in her car seat, hiccup-laughing softly, blissfully unaware that her mother had just broken at least one social rule—and possibly a man’s face.

Joe stood in the doorway of the car, one arm resting against the frame. He reached in, effortlessly buckling Zariyah in with practiced ease, checking every strap, every latch with precision. Once satisfied, he turned and handed Angel her yogurt, the cup warm in her hands.

“I told you not to let me go in there alone,” she muttered, blowing on her knuckle like it might cool the pain. Her voice was quieter now, the fire from earlier finally fading into a mixture of frustration and regret.

Joe gave her a dry smile, his gaze still intense as he leaned slightly into the car. “You walked over,” he replied, his tone even. “I didn’t let anything happen. I witnessed it.”

He stood there a moment longer, eyes roaming over her, the silent tension between them mixing with a faint undercurrent of amusement. He let out a long breath before leaning his head against the top of the car door, looking at her sideways. His expression was equal parts exasperated and awed.

“God help me, Angel,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

“You’re gonna give our daughter a complex,” he said, half-laughing.

Angel winced as she took a spoonful of yogurt. “Good. Let her know early—Mama don’t play about Daddy.”

Joe dipped his spoon into the mushy swirl of vanilla and Oreo, feeding Zariyah a finger to distract her from the discomfort of her hiccups.

She gurgled, eyes wide and trusting.

They sat in the SUV with the doors closed and the windows cracked just enough to let the early evening breeze snake through. The adrenaline from the frozen yogurt fiasco had finally begun to taper off, replaced by a still, buzzing quiet that hung between them like smoke after a fire.

The interior smelled like caramel swirl and sugar cones, mingling faintly with the hot pavement outside and the distant scent of lavender from Zariyah’s baby lotion. It was that strange moment after chaos—where everything settled, but nothing quite felt normal yet.

In the back seat, Zariyah had finally calmed down again. Her tiny fists were curled tight, her lips parted in soft sleep-breaths, cheeks flushed a gentle pink from all the commotion. One little sock had slipped halfway off her foot, her pacifier loosely clinging to the corner of her mouth like she’d lost interest mid-suck.

Angel, now tucked into the passenger seat with her legs pulled up, cradled her freshly bandaged right hand in her lap. Her yogurt cup was still in her other hand, the once-firm swirl now a melted, soupy mess. She stirred it absently, the spoon clinking against the sides in soft, slow circles. Her shoulders, tight for the last hour, had finally started to sink back down.

Joe sat beside her, stretched out in the driver’s seat with one arm over the steering wheel and the other resting on the center console. His helmet hair was a little tousled from earlier practice, his shirt still faintly damp at the collar. He hadn’t said much since they’d gotten in the car, but he didn’t need to. He just watched her—calm, steady, his expression unreadable in that unique way only Joe Burrow could pull off. A mix of concern, amusement, and the bone-deep fatigue that only came from trying to wrangle an NFL season and a two-month-old baby in the same lifetime.

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, though. It was laced with familiarity—like two people who didn’t need to fill the quiet to feel heard.

Angel finally exhaled, a slow, cleansing breath. Then she rolled her head lazily against the headrest, turned her face toward him, and smirked.

“You know,” she said, her voice hoarse from yelling and full of mischief, “you’re really hot when you go all papa bear/Big dick daddy and drop the bass in your voice like that.”

Joe blinked, caught just enough off guard to smile despite himself.

Angel arched a brow. “No, seriously. That whole ‘Angel. Enough’ thing?” She mimicked his deep, commanding tone with a playful rasp. “Whew. If I hadn’t been in the middle of trying to rearrange that man’s face, I’d have dragged you into the back seat so you could rearrange something else.”

Joe flushed immediately, the tips of his ears turning a warm, familiar pink. It traveled quickly down his neck, his expression somewhere between bashful and charmed.

He laughed, soft and low, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe. But I’m right.”

He glanced at her sideways, then down at her bandaged hand. “You’re also not off the hook.”

Angel pouted dramatically. “Oh, come on. I only hit him once. That’s growth.”

“You hit him hard enough to make the toppings bar go silent,” Joe said, voice deadpan. “Pretty sure the sprinkles jumped off the counter.”

Angel shrugged, not the least bit sorry. “He called you soft.”

Her tone shifted then—less teasing, more matter-of-fact. She turned her body slightly to face him fully, eyes narrowing like she was daring him to disagree.

“And you’re not. You’re the strongest man I know, Joe. On and off the field. I don’t care how many injuries you’ve had, or what the media says when the team struggles. I’ve watched you drag your body out of bed when you could barely stand, still showing up for practice, for press, for us. You get knocked down and you get back up every damn time. That’s what makes you dangerous. That’s what makes you, you.”

Joe’s expression softened. He didn’t say anything right away—just reached across the console, brushing a thumb along her cheek. The touch was feather-light, but it carried weight. His fingers lingered there, like he needed that physical contact to anchor everything she’d just said.

Angel leaned into it, her eyes half-lidded now, that fire inside her dimmed to something slow-burning and intimate. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The world outside—the whispers, the chaos, the headlines waiting to happen—faded into nothing.

Joe leaned in, just a little, and Angel met him halfway.

Their lips touched—slow, unhurried, but full of knowing. It wasn’t a kiss of apology or passion. It was something steadier. Reassuring. A quiet promise between two people who’d seen each other at their rawest and still chose each other, over and over again.

When they pulled apart, their foreheads brushed briefly before Angel settled back into her seat, a small, satisfied smile tugging at her lips.

Joe exhaled, a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“You’re trouble,” he murmured, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“And you love it,” she shot back, grinning now.

He sighed with a chuckle, the sound settling low in his chest. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly, glancing toward the back seat where their daughter slept on, undisturbed. “Yeah, I do.”

Angel followed his gaze. Her features softened too, the fight finally draining from her in full. Whatever flame had been burning earlier was now just a warm glow in her chest, resting somewhere between devotion and exhaustion.

She leaned back against her seat, her tone lighter now. “Next time someone disrespects you,” she mused, “I’ll use my left hand. Balance things out.”

Joe gave her a long look, one brow lifting. “I need to start carrying bail money when we leave the house, don’t I?”

“Absolutely,” she said with a satisfied nod. “Better safe than sorry.”

She dipped her spoon into her yogurt again, finally taking a bite. The melted mess didn’t seem to bother her anymore. Joe reached for his too, both of them eating in companionable silence.

The sun had nearly dipped below the horizon, casting the parking lot in that hazy golden-purple light that made everything look softer than it was. The street lamp flickered on with a hum overhead. Somewhere across the lot, a couple of teenagers whispered and pointed in their direction—but this time, Angel just leaned her head on Joe’s shoulder and let it go.

And there, in that quiet moment, with their daughter breathing softly in the back seat, frozen yogurt half-melted in their hands, and Angel’s bruised knuckles cradled in Joe’s large palm, they sat.

A quarterback and the chaos he married.

Wrapped in love, defiance, and melted frozen yogurt.

Joe looked between the two of them—his fierce, loyal wife and their wide-eyed little girl—and despite the bruises, the blood, the chaos of the season, he felt something settle inside him.

No press conference, no critical sports anchor, no bad call from the sideline could touch what he had right here.

Chaos and all.

He shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, and finally closed the car door with a quiet thud. The engine roared to life as he turned the key, the sound a small comfort in the silence that surrounded them. As the car hummed, Joe adjusted the rearview mirror, making sure everything was in place, before giving Angel a sideways glance.

“Alright, Muhammad Ali," he said with a smirk, "let's get you home before you become a hit on WorldStar.”

Angel's lips twitched into a grin, a quiet giggle bubbling up from her chest. Her laughter was light, the tension from earlier slowly melting away. She shook her head, looking at him with a playful gleam in her eye.

"You’re lucky I didn’t knock you out, too," she teased, the warmth returning to her voice.

Joe chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled out of the parking lot. The world outside may have been swirling with its usual noise, but in this little SUV, it was just them—two imperfectly perfect people with a baby who was probably going to grow up knowing that her mom could throw hands if needed.

And that, in the end, was enough.

Joe smirked, keeping his eyes on the road, but his voice dropped into a more teasing tone. “Save those moves for the bedroom, baby.”

Angel gasped, her hand shooting out to smack his arm. "Joe! Our daughter is right there!" she said, her voice a mixture of playful shock and mock indignation.

Joe laughed, the deep sound vibrating through the car. “Hey, just saying, that right hook? Kinda got me thinking… you’d be dangerous in the bedroom.”

She shot him a glare, though it was softened by the corners of her mouth, which were still curled in amusement. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably lucky,” he quipped, winking at her.

Angel rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her smile. She glanced in the rearview mirror at Zariyah, who had drifted off to sleep again, blissfully unaware of the banter between her parents.

“Just wait until she starts talking,” Angel muttered, "she’s going to be repeating everything.”

Joe laughed again, but it was the kind of laugh that felt like home—easy, full of affection, and just a little bit mischievous.

And as they pulled out onto the quiet street, heading home, Joe knew that no matter how crazy things got, this was exactly where he needed to be.

.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·..·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.

The Next Day – Bengals Practice Facility

The sun blazed over the practice field, casting long shadows as the team jogged through warm-ups. Cleats scraped against turf, and coaches barked instructions from the sidelines. Joe wiped sweat from his brow with the edge of his sleeve as they hit a water break, making his way toward the benches where Tee and Ja'Marr were already half-slouched, guzzling water like it was life support.

“Yo,” Tee said, eyeing Joe with narrowed suspicion, “why you walking like your back’s tight? You sleep on the couch or something?”

Joe gave a dry laugh, twisting the cap off his Gatorade. “Nah. Just trying to recover from last night’s chaos.”

Ja'Marr glanced over. “What happened?”

Joe took a beat. He sipped his drink, then leaned against the bench like someone preparing to drop a bomb.

“You know how Angel is,” he started, voice low but amused. “We went to get frozen yogurt. Just a chill night, right? Me, her, and Zariyah.”

Tee raised a brow. “Sounds harmless so far.”

“Yeah… until some dude at the shop starts talking loud trash about me. Like loud-loud.”

Ja'Marr tilted his head. “You say something to him?”

Joe shook his head. “Didn’t get the chance.”

Both Tee and Ja'Marr stared, blinking. “…Nah,” Tee said slowly. “You don’t mean—”

Joe nodded. “Angel handled it.”

“Handled it?” Ja'Marr repeated, leaning forward. “Bro. Define ‘handled.’”

Joe tried to fight the grin creeping across his face, but failed. “She walked up to the dude, said something smooth and threatening, he said some reckless stuff about my past injuries—like, ‘washed up,’ ‘not the future,’ the usual loudmouth nonsense—and she just… clocked him. One hit. Boom.”

There was a pause. A long one.

Then: “She hit him?” Tee yelled, nearly choking on his water.

Joe held up his hands. “Square in the face. I barely had time to react. Man flew back like someone hit ‘rewind’ on him.”

Ja'Marr started laughing so hard he nearly dropped his bottle. “Naaaah! Not Angel! Wait—how bad?”

“Busted his nose,” Joe said casually. “She messed up her knuckle. I had to carry her, the baby, and our yogurt to the car like we were fleeing a crime scene.”

Tee stood there with his mouth wide open. “Your wife turned a froyo run into a Mortal Kombat match.”

“I told her she was gonna end up on WorldStar,” Joe muttered, shaking his head with a smirk.

“Did she at least feel bad?” Ja'Marr asked, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

“She flirted with me in the car,” Joe said, deadpan. “Said I was hot when I get all ‘papa bear.’ Then told me next time, she’ll use her left hand to ‘balance it out.’”

Tee just stared. “You married a superhero and a menace.”

Joe shrugged, grinning now. “Chaos and all.”

Ja'Marr let out another laugh. “I swear, if I see this on Twitter later…”

“Oh, it’s coming,” Tee said, pulling out his phone. “Matter of time before someone posts security footage or a witness comes forward.”

Joe sighed, running a hand down his face. “Please don’t let this hit ESPN.”

Ja'Marr leaned in, still grinning. “Nah, man. If it does? I’m sending Angel a ‘thank you’ bouquet.”

Joe rolled his eyes. “Y’all are the worst.”

“We’re not the ones handing out haymakers at dessert shops,” Tee said, already laughing again.

.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·..·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.

Later That Evening – The Burrow Household

The house was calm—finally.

Zariyah was asleep in her bassinet, arms raised above her head like she was dreaming about leading a revolution. Joe was curled up on the couch, feet propped on the coffee table, baby monitor balanced on one knee. Angel padded in from the kitchen with a bag of frozen peas over her wrapped hand and dropped beside him with a groan.

“Remind me to stop punching people who have weak noses,” she muttered.

Joe didn’t look up from his phone. “That’s oddly specific.”

“Because I’m oddly injured,” she replied, lifting the peas to her temple with a dramatic sigh. “He had the bone density of a graham cracker.”

Joe grinned. “I still can’t believe you actually hit him.”

Angel smirked. “I warned him.”

Just then, Joe’s phone buzzed. And then again. And again. And again.

He glanced at the screen.

Then blinked.

Then sat up a little straighter.

“…Uhh. Angel?”

“What?” she asked, head resting on the back of the couch.

“Did you… see this?”

He turned his screen toward her. A Twitter/X video was playing on loop. Grainy footage—clearly a phone recording—captured every second. The frozen yogurt shop. Angel walking up to the man. The exchange. The punch. The gasp. Joe scooping up the baby. Angel being dragged out like a gremlin with unfinished business.

The caption read: “JOE BURROW’S WIFE KNOCKS DUDE OUT FOR TALKING SMACK 😭🔥 #.RideOrDie #.QueenEnergy #.ProtectJoeAtAllCosts”

Angel’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God. Who filmed that?!”

The video had over 4.2 million views. In four hours.

“Babe,” Joe said, scrolling through the replies. “You are trending.”

Angel whipped around to snatch the phone. “No. Nuh-uh. No way I’m—”

She froze.

The top tweet:

“I need someone to love me the way Angel Burrow loves Joe. I’d commit war crimes for this kind of loyalty.”

The next:

“Joe Burrow has a 2-month-old and a wife who throws hands like she’s in a Marvel movie. Bengals might be 2-5 but he already won at life.”

Then another:

“We don’t talk enough about the fact that a man disrespected Joe Burrow once and caught a knuckle sandwich with extra sprinkles.”

Angel’s eyes widened. “Why is this actually hilarious?”

Joe leaned back into the couch, biting back a grin. “Tee sent me the video and just wrote: ‘AYO. SHE REAL.’”

Angel couldn’t help it—she laughed. Loud, belly-deep, head-thrown-back kind of laugh. “Oh, this is insane.”

“Yeah,” Joe said. “But also kinda flattering.”

“I mean,” she said, smirking at him, “you saw me in action. That was love and upper body strength.”

“And great footwork,” Joe added, nodding seriously. “You stepped into the punch.”

“I did, didn’t I?” she grinned proudly.

Another buzz. Joe checked his phone again and started reading: “‘She said “Not in front of my daughter” like she was in a superhero origin story.’”

Angel blinked, then looked at him sideways. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“You did. And then you punched a guy.”

Angel exhaled. “Okay, so now the entire internet knows I’m a menace. Perfect.”

Joe turned to her, resting his arm along the back of the couch. “No. Now the entire internet knows you love your husband so much, you’re willing to commit a minor misdemeanor in public. That’s soulmate stuff.”

Angel squinted. “You better hope this doesn’t end up on First Take. If Stephen A. Smith calls me a thug, I swear to God—”

“I’ll call him myself,” Joe replied dryly. “And ask if he wants the smoke too.”

They both burst into laughter again.

Angel curled into his side, careful not to bump her hand. “Guess I should work on my media apology voice.”

Joe kissed her temple. “We’ll script it after Zariyah’s next nap.”

The baby stirred lightly in the monitor, then fell back asleep.

Angel sighed. “At least she didn’t see it.”

Joe reached for the remote and turned on the TV. “You know what this means, right?”

“What?”

“You’re officially the scariest Burrow in the house.”

Angel smirked, settling deeper into his arms. “Took them long enough to figure that out.”

.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·..·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.

The living room was dimly lit, the soft flicker of the TV casting shadows across the walls as Zariyah cooed from her bouncer in the corner. Angel sat cross-legged on the couch, Joe sprawled beside her with one arm draped over the back cushions. Her phone was practically glued to her hand as she scrolled through the endless stream of tweets, memes, and tags lighting up her notifications like fireworks.

“Yo, people are fast,” she muttered, eyes widening slightly as she came across yet another viral remix of the incident—this one set to DMX’s “Party Up.” “This one has theme music. Like, actual sound editing.”

Joe chuckled beside her, his gaze flicking to her bandaged hand as she used it to swipe.

“You good?” he asked, not for the first time.

Angel just gave a dramatic sigh and kept scrolling. “It’s sore, but my pride is thriving.”

Joe smirked, but before he could respond, his phone buzzed loudly on the coffee table. The screen lit up with a FaceTime call.

Ja’Marr.

Joe grinned knowingly. “Here we go.”

He answered and propped the phone up on a throw pillow between them, hitting speaker.

Ja'Marr’s face filled the screen, already mid-laugh. “YO! Angel ‘Hands of Justice’ Burrow! What’s good, champ?”

Angel groaned but couldn’t fight the smile. “Goodnight, Ja’Marr.”

“Nah, nah, you don’t get to go quiet now. Sis, you really hit that man like he insulted your whole bloodline. I thought it was a prank at first. I had to rewatch it like four times.”

“Only four?” Joe teased. “I think Tee’s on his seventh. He said he’s studying her form for when the team fights back at pressers.”

“I’m just saying!” Ja’Marr laughed. “She squared up like she had a fight song playing in her head.”

Angel held up her bandaged hand. “And now I got a busted knuckle and a trending hashtag.”

“#AngelBurrowSaidBingBong is everywhere,” Ja’Marr said, wheezing. “You might be more famous than Joe now.”

Joe leaned into the frame. “I can live with that.”

“You don’t have a choice, bro. Y’all got Black Twitter and suburban moms on your side now. That’s the double threat.”

Angel tilted her head. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

Ja’Marr grinned. “Oh, 100%. And guess who else is loving it?”

Angel’s brow quirked. “Please don’t say who I think you’re about to say.”

“Your mother-in-law,” Ja’Marr confirmed gleefully.

Angel sat up straighter. “Wait. Robin saw it?”

Joe raised a brow. “My mom?”

Ja’Marr laughed harder. “Bro, she texted me before I even saw the video. Said—and I quote—‘Well… she did warn him.’”

Angel stared at Joe, stunned. “Your mom saw it?”

“And she’s unbothered, clearly,” Joe chuckled.

“Your dad?” she asked slowly.

Joe’s phone buzzed again. He checked the screen. “And there’s a text from him now. Hold on…”

He tapped it open and held the screen up for her to see. It was a photo of Jimmy Burrow sitting comfortably on the back porch, holding a "#1 Dad" coffee mug, beside a printed-out freeze frame of Angel’s punch mid-arc like a Renaissance painting.

Underneath it was a caption: “Angel’s got a mean right hook. Proud to have her in the family.”

Angel threw her head back into the couch cushions and groaned. “Oh my God.”

Ja’Marr howled. “You’ve made it, sis. Y’all are officially a dynasty.”

Joe leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to Angel’s temple, the warmth in his voice unmistakable. “You’re a legend, babe. Chaos and all.”

She peeked out from behind her hands, barely suppressing a smile. “You think Zariyah’s gonna see this one day?”

Ja’Marr answered without missing a beat. “She’s gonna brag about it in kindergarten. ‘My mommy hit a man for talking trash about my daddy.’”

Joe laughed. “We’ll teach her to use her words first.”

Angel smirked. “Unless someone talks trash about her daddy.”

Ja'Marr gave a full salute through the screen. “Can’t wait for her TED Talk: Defending Joe Burrow With These Hands.”

Angel narrowed her eyes. “Okay, I’m hanging up now.”

“Love y’all!” Ja'Marr called out as the screen went black.

Angel dropped the phone into Joe’s lap and shook her head, a mixture of exasperation and reluctant amusement on her face.

“I just wanted frozen yogurt,” she muttered.

Joe slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, whispering with a grin, “And you got internet immortality instead.”

Angel sighed, leaning into him, the bandage on her hand cool against his side. “Just promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“No more public dessert spots for the next month.”

Joe chuckled, kissing her temple again. “Deal. We’ll go underground with our ice cream runs.”

And as Zariyah snored softly in the background, the three of them tucked into the kind of peace that could only come after complete and utter chaos—with trending hashtags, family group chats, and a love fierce enough to throw a punch when it counted.

[moonyswolfie]

The Prophecy

This is the first time I write a James x reader fic and honestly, it might be my favourite piece so far. I also could not help including some fluffy Wolfstar.

TW: mentions of the prophecy announcing Jily's doom

Pairing: James Potter x Seer!reader

Masterlist

The gift of Prophecy is not for the faint of heart. While the idea of glimpsing the future may appeal to some, they often disregard the fact that said future may not be as happy as they expect it to be. Tragedy is inevitable, after all.

Some may argue that the future is never set in stone and it can change at any given moment. And it is true, but would the changes be for better or for worse?

Ever since you discovered your affinity for Divination in your third year at Hogwarts, it was like something unlocked in your mind. That’s when the visions started. It was slow at first, one every few months, but the number increased over time and here you were, three years later, seated at the breakfast table in the Great Hall, shuffling your Tarot cards in order to make sense of your latest vision. Your dream interpretation notes were scattered next to your half empty plate and a piece of parchment and quill had your undivided attention at the moment.

The Fool.

Merlin, could this deciphering process be any more frustrating?

You hated that card with your whole being. It was perhaps the most vague out of the whole deck and it never really told you anything, especially when it came alone.

You shuffled again.

Nine of Swords.

This time you couldn’t hold back the eye roll. Nightmares. Well, no shit. This particular piece of the future did indeed come to you in a nightmare, but it was very fragmented and it did not make a lot of sense on its own.

Hence why you were furiously trying to decipher it.

There were times when you could have sworn the deck was working against you and either stating the obvious or giving you the most useless information possible. You were a firm believer that Tarot cards, while an instrument, had a will of their own and the particular deck you decided to use today was your most stubborn one.

You should have gone with the Rune stones or even your pendulum. You would have had more answers by now.

Pendulum work was not the same as Tarot readings. The crystal was more precise, but the downside was that it took you a lot longer, seeing as it could only offer ‘yes’, ‘no’ or ‘maybe’ answers.

You made it a habit, over the years, to combine the two. When the vision was particularly odd or even a bit eerie, you tried to get a better idea with the cards, untangle the emotional part with the Rune stones and finish with the pendulum that would guide you towards a clearer image.

This morning, however, it felt as if you would need a whole entire miracle to work it out.

“Good morning, love” the gruff voice of your very tired best friend snapped you out of your mental rant.

“Good morning” you mumble back, not yet looking up from the levitating deck of cards that throws another one at you forcefully, as if out of spite.

Ten of Cups.

Family.

That was it, you were officially going to go crazy. You knew that there was a deeper meaning hidden beneath the order and combination, the fact that none came out reversed and, of course, the Numerology. But your brain was not cooperating at the moment and it felt like your intuition took an early vacation because the cards felt empty. For all you knew, they might not even be correct and Peeves was just fucking with you bright and early in the morning.

With a defeated sigh, you lift your head and give James a smile as he takes his seat next to you, a brow raised and a bemused smile playing on his lips.

“Don’t start” you warn, anticipating his awful jokes at the expense of your serious interpretations that he believes to be useless in the long run.

He raises his arms in surrender.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“But you want to.”

“I just don’t understand why you exhaust yourself trying to make sense of these. You know as well as I do that barely a few are ever about you personally. And it’s not like you could warn every single person you see visions of.”

He has a point, you know he does, but what would it say about you if you didn’t even try?

Probably that you would be better rested and less snarky, but that was besides the point.

“This one felt personal” you try to argue only to be met with a look that betrays exactly how many times he heard you say that.

You clear out your deck of cards and the notes and books still open around you, placing everything carefully back in your school bag as James takes his plate off the table and fills it with everything in sight. The rest of the Marauders joined you in the meantime, all of them appearing to be in different states of exhaustion.

“Well good morning to you too, sleeping beauties. Rough night?”

Your teasing was answered by Sirius who let out the most dramatic groan as he leaned his forehead against his boyfriend’s shoulder, as if his mere presence at the breakfast table instead of still being in his bed and snuggling Remus was the greatest pain he’s ever had to endure. Remus did not bat an eye at his dramatics, however, more than used to Sirius’ behaviour by now.

You turn to James, brow raised in a silent question, but he just shook his head.

“It’s too early, darling” he muttered and continued eating “what did you dream about?”

That catches the attention of the other two boys and they turn curious eyes on you. Listening to you talk about dreams and visions you’ve had was not uncommon and they were always very invested in what you saw versus the reading that came after, explaining everything. It was like their own little daily puzzle to piece together before you gave them the correct answer.

“It…I don’t know, exactly. I only saw pieces and it looked as if they were years from now and from each other. I think it has to do with a family being torn apart, if my reading is to be correct. And something about nightmares, but truthfully, that could be about a different thing. Maybe the pieces are not even related” you shrug and look down, blushing faintly under the boys’ gaze.

Remus frowns and puts his fork down.

“What did you see, exactly?”

“A flash of magic, there was a scream, someone running up some stairs, a Dementor…and I felt this inexplicable coldness when I woke up, as if the creature left its mark in the real world, somehow.”

You shake your head, hoping to also shake this confusion and the images away. You were used to tragedy and whatnot, but the Dementors were where you drew the line. Those nightmarish beasts belonged far away from this school. If it were up to you, a world apart would not be far enough.

Remus hums, considering your words.

“It seems like you have an idea about the premonition already.”

You sigh and throw the deck of cards a disapproving look.

“I would have a better idea if those spiteful motherfuckers didn’t thrive in times of torture. Next Saturday cannot come faster.”

Your reply causes Sirius to bark out a laugh and Remus to let out a wounded whine. You almost chuckle, realizing your mistake, but stop in time as to not upset your other best friend further.

“I’m sorry, Remus, it’s nothing personal. I just really need the full moon to cleanse my cards and crystals and…well everything, I guess.”

James frowns and extends a hand to pick up the cards, but you slap it away at the last moment. He knows better than to touch anything you use for Divination.

“Why not cleanse them in the sunlight? And why am I never allowed to touch anything?”

His childish whine caused you to roll your eyes so far back that you were sure you saw your brain.

“The sunlight is usually used for charging, whereas the moonlight is reserved for cleansing. Except these – you lift the cards – don’t like the sunlight and lose all their energy as if in protest. And for the millionth time, Jamie, you cannot touch them because you will leave your energetic fingerprint all over the objects that are programmed to answer to me and me alone. Your energy would confuse them and they would stop working properly. I’m struggling with them as it is, don’t make it any harder, please.”

“Why don’t you use the other deck?”

Lily’s voice catches you off guard because one, she never speaks before breakfast and two, you didn’t realize she was paying attention to the conversation happening around her.

You let out a sigh and throw James a pointed look.

“Because Prongs here decided that he was bored waiting for me one day after class and attempted a love reading. And not only did he mess up that deck, he also managed to lose a few cards.”

Lily laughed, soon joined by Sirius and Remus, who shook his head and returned to his now cold breakfast.

“And what did the cards have to say?”

Peter, the last of the Marauders who managed to remain unnoticed until now, inquired, genuinely absorbed by the exchange. You felt a little guilty for not noticing him sooner and promised yourself to be more aware of your surroundings from now on.

James answered him, a proud smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

“That I already found the love of my life, but the timing is not right, so I have to wait a little longer.”

To say that everyone is shocked would be an understatement. Remus stopped with the fork halfway to his mouth, Sirius regarded his best friend as if he suddenly grew an extra head and Lily cocked her head, awed but disbelieving at the same time.

You rolled your eyes and smacked his arm lightly.

“Stop lying to them. I had to step in and do the reading all over again with a different deck.”

“See, now that sounds more like the James we know” Lily mumbled between spoonfuls of porridge.

*

Fate had a way of taking everyone by surprise – even the ones who already had a glimpse of the tangled threads of future. One decision could lead to greatness, whilst another – no matter how similar – could be one’s downfall. One action can change the course of one’s life.

And such was the case of your relationship.

To say no one expected you and James to start dating in your seventh year at Hogwarts would be a lie. To say no one expected your relationship to actually last over the years would be closer to the truth.

Despite his years of infatuation with a certain redhead, Remus and Sirius had a bet going on regarding when he’ll finally realize that he’s been in love with you all this time and chasing Lily was a hopeless endeavour. The latter became obvious when her secret relationship with Mary was discovered, but the first part was still a work in progress.

It was the little things that gave his feelings away, but ironically, the two of you were completely blind to them, much to the bewilderment of your friends.

That is when they decided to meddle.

And thank Merlin they did, because your life could not be more perfect – married to the love of your life and waiting for your son’s first Hogwarts letter.

When James came downstairs this morning to prepare his coffee, he was met with the sight of you, seated at the dining table and shuffling a deck of Tarot cards. He smiled to himself as he took notice of the charmed steaming mug on the counter awaiting his arrival and moved silently to grab it and take a sip, careful as to not disturb your reading.

The levitating deck threw a card on the table and knocked the pot of ink next to your scattered parchment, managing to drench them in the black liquid.

Your groan of annoyance had James suppressing a chuckle, as he was fondly reminded of a similar scene that took place 15 years ago.  

You were aware of his presence behind you. Of course you were, you were working with unstable magic, so you always had to be on your guard. But this, his lingering presence and silent watching has become a ritual over the years, one neither of you could start the day without.

“Don’t start” you warn, but instead of severity, you tone was full of love and fondness.

He raises his arms in surrender, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“But you want to.”

You finally turn around in your seat, taking in the amused expression on your husband’s face. He placed the mug back on the counter and came behind you, leaning down to place a sweet kiss on your temple.

“I know better than to say anything, my love.”

You laugh and shake your head, catching his hand and placing a kiss of your own on his knuckles.

“You sure do.”

It took a while to decipher the vision you had almost two decades ago, but you did. And you were right, it was personal, but you never shared it with your friends. There was no point in it, seeing as life (and your friends) had other plans for James and Lily.

Dumbledore called it a prophecy, but you were certain you only saw a possibility. The future is, after all, uncertain.

“I love you” you whisper, but he heard it loud and clear.

His smile was so wide and so full of love, you were not sure where he stored this much happiness.

As he took a seat next to you, his lips met yours in a soft kiss, interrupted only by his equally quiet, but powerful confession.

“I love you too.”

[galaxygurlll]

Brotherly support... and teasing

Warnings: None

Word count: 850 words (I actually got a little carried away there at the end, and it's actually 891 words, so sorry!)

Requested: Yes

Reader could be Lando's little sister and it's just events where Lando is like playfully threatening Oscar but is like actually very supportive of the relationship and actually shipped it before it even happened. something like that please.

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"So, when can I have the talk with him?" My dear old brother, Lando Norris, just casually asks me as we sit down to have dinner, wiggling his eyebrows and smirking lightly, "Lando!" I scold him as my head flicks up after placing my napkin on my lap. He just laughs.

This causes me to roll my eyes, used to this behaviour with him ever since his teammate, Oscar Piastri, and I, got together. Both of us honestly, and rightfully so, thought that the older boy was going to be pissed. Oh, how wrong we were.

He seemed, to excited, like he was planning stuff.

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NOTIFICATION ALERT!

1 NEW POST FROM y/n_norris

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Photo dump! First three are my annoying brother, last three are my amazing lover! Happy 4 months!! 🫶

Tagged: lando, oscarpiastri

❤️ 128K    💬 917   ✈️ 1,092

Liked by lando, oscarpiastri, friend1, friend2, and 128,982 others

oscarpiastri 🫶 🫶 🫶

--- y/n_norris 🫶 🫶 🫶

----- lando Ew, stop, gross

fan1 Love the different aesthetic

--- fan2 Was about to say the exact same thing!

----- fan3 The perfect mix of chaotic and calm to level out our girlie

friend1 Still can't believe lando made you carry him

--- y/n_norris I know right, so rude

----- friend2 Very 😂

lando I swear to you, if you do not stop hugging my sister oscarpiastri, I swear

--- oscarpiastri You swear what mate?

----- lando I swear stuff that you do not need to know of right now. But know that I am watching your every move mate 😁

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"Hello there, love," I exclaim as I reach Oscar and give him a slight peck on the cheek, avoiding the way my brother is fake puking in front of us, "Not in public you two, you're going to embarrass me," he tells us both in that stern brotherly joking tone that he's loved to use lately as I roll my eyes.

Little did I know though, my Lando had actually been basically praying to the gods above to get me, his sister, and Oscar, his teammate together since almost as soon as the young Aussie joined McLaren in 2023.

Little did I know that was me and Oscar would express our dying love for each other to the English man, and even though he had found it quite cute to begin with, and actually did root for us, he just wanted it to stop.

Well, that didn't go to plan for him as now he gets more rants in, but, he can now tease us more than ever.

For example:

"So, you gonna steal my sister again over to your side of the garage, or am I not gonna have to fight you this time? Reminder, she is my blood," before chuckling to himself, patting the slightly nervous Aussie on the shoulder, and just, casually strutting away.

Another example:

"Might have to kick you out of the house soon if you keep kissing my sister mate," causing me to just swat him away with my hand as I snuggle up against Oscar and mumble, "No." Lando then gives Oscar a glare, but I can tell it's a playful one. I mean, he's not even that scary, to be honest.

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NOTIFICATION ALERT!

1 NEW POST FROM oscarpiastri

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My love! Happy 4 months! 😘

Tagged: y/n_norris

❤️ 596K    💬 2,239   ✈️ 1,872

Liked by y/n_norris, lando, friend4, friend3, and 596,072 others

y/n_norris Blessed to have you! 😘

--- oscarpiastri 🫶

----- lando Please stop this, otherwise I will run you off of the track when the season starts

------- mclaren lando!

--------- lando For legal purposes, that was a joke!

friend4 Adorable! Can't wait to see you two!

fan4 Happy 4 months to you cuties!

fan5 Wish I had this type of love

--- fan6 Well, I'm sorry that I'm not an F1 driver

----- lando You should be. Do better!

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"Might have to put a barrier between you both if this keeps going on," Lando speaks, all smug-like whilst leaning against the wall, "Oh, piss off Lando Norizz," I comment back causing him to gasp, hand on his heart in shock, jokingly.

Then, he speaks, "That's it, no more seeing him for the rest of the day! Come on Oscar, let's go talk to our team." And he walks off, making huge gestures, causing Oscar and me to roll our eyes before saying our goodbyes for now, and going our own ways.

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"You're going to help me plan a date, with your sister?" Oscar comments to the British man in front of him, arms crossed, "Yes!" Lando responds, all jittery, "And you're not gonna kill me?" The Aussie questions, eyebrow raised.

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no! That, I'm going to do later! If you ever break her heart that is! Now, let me tell you everything about her-" Oscar cuts him off, "I practically know everything there is to know about her mate-" He then gets equally cut off, "No you don't! Not when I'm around! And besides, if you cut me off again, I'm not even going to allow this date to happen!" Lando explains, causing Oscar to just nod, uncertain.

"Alright, so, what do I need to do?" The Aussie asks, "Glad you asked!" Lando responds, all hyper fixated on making this his sister's best date yet!

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Note from author: I just wanted to quickly add that I just figured out how to put photos all grouped together! By accident! So now it doesn't look so clunky and I can add more to chapters and requests! Yay! Also, hopefully, this was good! Haven't written in a little, and haven't ever written a playfully threatening piece before, just so y'all know! Also, this will (hopefully) be my last author's note!

[mooki3-bear]

I Need You pt.2 (paige bueckers x black!reader

Part one <3

Summary: You and Paige finally unite

Warning: Just cursing

word count: 1757

Three months. It’s been three months since me and Paige went on our “break”. 

The first month was the hardest. Just a lot of crying, bargaining, rants, and Chipotle. I sat in my puddle of despair, wondering what Paige was doing.

What she was thinking, hoping the thoughts were about me.

My worst thought was thinking that she had moved on to someone new, or someone that has always been there.

The second month was the month that I told myself to stand the fuck up.

This month had its ups and downs. I moved in with my best friend who welcomed me with open arms. She’s been more than supportive since the very beginning. She comforted me, fed me when I didn’t feel like eating, and took the remote from my hands every time I felt like turning on a UConn game (I'm healing slowly but surely).

I even picked up a hobby! I started taking a ballet class to keep my mind off of things! My bleeding feet are a VERY good distraction.

The third month is when I felt like a new and healed me. My skin was clear, my curls were popping, my body was giving. I felt better.

However, no matter what I did or how much better I thought I was…I can’t get her out of my mind.

“Come on! You’ve been stuck in this house all day! It’s getting sad Mookie” my bestie, Quenlin, says while ripping the blanket from my body.

“My dance class got canceled today and new episodes of my show came out. I just thought I could lay here and wallow all day” I moan while pulling my hoodie over my face. I turn my head to see Quenlin shaking her head.

“Girl, you smell like ten cans of ass and your hair looks a mess. You cannot let this girl get to you like this” She turns to open the curtains.

The blinding light burns my eyes as I wince and pull a pillow over my face. She rolls her eyes as she lays next to me on the bed.

“Let’s go bar hopping tonight! You love that shit” she yells as she shakes my aching body! She wasn’t wrong, bar hopping was probably my favorite activity. I lay there and contemplate whether I should get cute and have fun or lay in the imprint I have made in the bed and cry.

“I’ll buy you Chipotle” and with those four words, I hopped in the shower, got dressed, and was ready to head out the door.

9:30 Pm

Me and quen were on our second bar of the night and I felt alive again. I had flashes of images of Paige in my mind throughout the night but I decided I would deal with that issue when I went home. 

“Girl, can you go order us some drinks? I gotta piss real bad” Quenlin said, doing the potty dance at her grown age. 

“Go ahead, and stop doing that shit” I laugh as she waddles off to the bathroom. I make my way up to the bar and order me and my friend vodka cranberries. 

I twiddled my thumbs waiting for the drinks, when I finally heard it.

“Hey beautiful” My body froze when I heard the voice I had longed for so much but also dreaded hearing. I slowly turned my head to see the beautiful blonde that had been occupying my mind for months.

She looked so good, but also drained.

Words tried so hard to leave my mouth but nothing came out.

“You look good. Like, good. Guess the break up was good to you” She lets out an awkward laugh as I am still in shock but gain the ability to speak.

“Eh. It was ok for me. A lot of crying hehe” I mentally slap myself, who the fuck says that. 

“Yeah, same” She looks down at her feet trying to figure out what to say next.

“Listen, can we talk, please? I wanna fix this. I-”

“Unh Unh! What are you doing here” Quenlin appears from thin air as she jumps in front of me to confront Paige. This breaks me out of my trance as I jump to defend Paige. 

“No, Quen! It’s ok! Me and her are just going to talk outside” I put my hands on my best friend's shoulders to calm her down. She turns to look at me and then back at Paige.

“Fine, but if you try some manipulative shit, it’s me and you” she pokes piage with her finger before walking away. Paige looks back at me “I never liked her. I just want you to know that.”

I laughed as I walked to the door, Paige following close behind. When we get a good distance away from the bar we stop and just look at each other.

I can tell she’s trying to find words to say, I couldn’t find any either.

We stood in silence for a few more minutes before one of us finally spoke.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I made you feel like shit for so many months. You should have been my priority and I didn’t do that” Paige let out a shaky breath before looking down at the ground. I waited for her to continue but….she just stopped.

“Paige…that's not the only reason why I wanted to take a break. Yes, you ignoring me was a big part of it but there was so much more” She finally raises her head to look me timidly in the eyes.

I take a shaky breath before continuing. “It was the petty comments, the constant arguing, and the insecure feeling I always felt” I started choking up on my words, and the memories of me and the girl I love screaming at each other came flooding back.

“I'm sorry! I was just so stressed with basketball, the interviews, and the constant attention that I guess I got stressed” She quickly tried to defend herself, flailing her arms in the air.

“I understand how stressful that could be but…I would've been there for you. I could've listened to your rants, helped you during solo practice, and helped you calm down when you were nervous about an interview…but you shut me out and started bullshit arguments for no reason. I love you so much. I just wanted to help you” I felt a tear roll down my face.

I saw Paige’s face change from defensive to vulnerable in the middle of the conversation.

I let out a sigh as Paige drops her head, tears falling down her pretty face. “Paige, I love you so much. You’re probably the best thing that has happened to me in a long time” I take her hands in mine “but when we have an issue, you can’t just shut me out or brush it off. We need to talk. We need to express ourselves or else it’s just gonna get worse.”

Paige raises her head once more, looking into my brown eyes with her bloodshot blue eyes. “I know…I wanna be better for you baby. I will do anything to make it up to you. I just want things to go back to the way they were” She brings my hand to her lips, placing a tender kiss upon them.

I felt my skin turn hot as her lips connected to my skin, it’s kind of funny how we were together for so long and she still managed to make me nervous.

“I know it seems like an empty promise but I swear I will do everything that I can to make it up to you. I’ll communicate better and I will make sure to do everything that I can to remind you that you're the love of my…I can’t fucking lose you again y/n” she wraps her arms around my body, leaving another kiss on the top of my head.

On instinct, I wrap my arms around her to as I close my eyes to breathe in her perfume.

I was still angry with her but somehow I knew deep down that she was serious about wanting to be better for me. 

She pulls back to look into my eyes before she places an unexpected but loving kiss on my lips. I felt like I was floating on air as my lips touched the ones that they have been craving for three months. With this simple act, she knew that I forgave her 

As we pull away she rests her forehead on mine. 

“Can we just start over please, I miss you so much” Paige giggles while also sniffling. 

I let out a snort as I placed my hand on her cheek “Well we got a long way to go until we are back to the same place but, I think we’ll be ok”.

2 days later

“Ok! I think that’s the last of my shit” I let out a sigh of relief placing the last bit of my clothes back into me and Paige’s shared closet. I fell back into our bed, missing the smell of our sheets. 

I let out a grunt as Paige ran into the room and jumped on top of me. “Jesus Paige! I think you broke one of my ribs” I try to push her off of me as I let out a laugh.

Paige keeps her position on top of me as she puts her face into the crook of my neck. “I'm sorry, baby. I'm just happy you're back” she sighs as she kisses my neck.

“Ew, can yall wait to fuck until after I leave,” Quenlin says as she brings me some more of my stuff in from the car. I laugh as Paige finally rolls off me with a dramatic groan.

I walk over to Quenlin take the box of stuff from her hands and place it on the floor. “Thank you for letting me stay with you,” I say as I hug her.

“Of course, anytime! However, if this shit happens another time me and Paige are gonna have to tussle. You hear me” she yells towards Paige.

“I love you too, Quen” Paige blew a kiss to her.

Quen rolls her eyes before giving me a kiss on the cheek and leaving. 

“Why must y’all fight over me”

“Because you’re the most important thing to us, baby” Paige leaves another kiss on my lips before hopping back onto the shared bed that I will never leave again.

Y'all I am so fuckin sorry this came out so late! But here yall go <3

[zumek0]

draft 05; fushiguro, m.

↪︎ angst but very mild?, comfort, college/university au, no curses au, reader is very stressed.

↝ summary: megumi comforts you after you break down due to academic stress.

There’s a feeling of pressure on your chest, and a growing pit of despair in your stomach. You fucked up. Big time. Your teacher had given you a topic to make a presentation about a month ago and yet here you were, a week before your due date, not even having a clue of what the hell the topic was. As you stare into the google calendar tab open in your laptop you realize that not only were you supposed to present the topic in a week, but also turn in two different group assignments and an individual one. On the same day.

Almost mechanically you pick up your phone and open the messenger app. 

Megumi’s always been more of a night owl. His body is used to staying awake until sunlight threatens to spill over the horizon. He knows it’s not healthy but even if he tries to sleep at a normal, decent hour his mind remains restless. So he does what he’s able to: assignments, projects, pre-reading for lectures, reading books he enjoys or has been wanting to read, listen to music, make playlists with songs that fit the vibe of a very specific picture of you he has in his gallery, watch a movie, etc. 

It’s 11:56 p.m. when his phone starts vibrating over and over again. He can’t help the feeling of irritation that bubbles up inside him, thinking that Yuuji or Nobara are spamming the group chat with TikTok slideshows of “ask your friends which ‘blank’ are you!”. Although the feeling is immediately replaced with worry and slight curiosity when he sees it’s you who has been spamming him for three minutes straight.

His eyebrows furrow when he notices you’re texting with correct spelling, no emojis, no jokes in the middle of the conversation and capitalizing the first letter of every text. He reads over the messages you’ve sent so far to grasp an understanding of the situation. When he gets to the bottom of the chat, he gets up and grabs his shoes and keys while still paying attention to the still incoming messages you’re sending him.

You’re startled when you hear a soft knock at your door, stilling your fingers from expertly moving across the keyboard on your phone. Your eyes remain on the door while you wait for the sound to repeat itself, just in case you misheard or imagined it. Your phone vibrates softly on your hands, displaying a text from Megumi: “open the door”. You get up and do as he ordered. 

Once he’s inside your small campus room, he speaks. “Okay, now tell me everything slowly.” You do.

“… oh, did I also mention that I have two midterms that same week? And that quiz that we were supposed to present last week but the teacher changed last minute.” You can feel the headache creeping up your spine. You bring your hands to your head and rub your temples.

“And I know what you’re gonna say: ‘complaining about it isn’t gonna help you at all’” you make your voice sound deeper and more monotone to make it sound like his, “It’s just- It’s really frustrating. I don’t know why I can’t seem to just sit down and do things, like you do!”. 

He doesn’t say anything and you’re thankful for that. “It’s like—I know I have stuff to do, and I know it’s very important that I do it right. But I just can’t seem to ever find the motivation to do it. And then I’m left in spots like this one where I’m gonna have to pull a miracle out of my ass to actually turn in everything I have to turn in this week.” He listens to your rant patiently. Even rubbing your thigh when he notices your eyes crystallizing and tears starting to well up in the corners of your eyes.

After sitting in silence for what feels like hours, he finally speaks. “Do you want reassurance or a solution?” “Both. More reassurance though.” You both move to make yourselves more comfortable. 

He’s sitting down in the floor with his back against the side of your mattress. One of his legs is bent and the other is stretched. Your head is now resting on his outstretched thigh. His long fingers find themselves running through your hair, an action that you commonly direct towards him whenever he finds himself unable to fall asleep while sleeping over in your room.

“I think you’re gonna make it out of this.” His voice Is soft, but assertive. “And yes, you have some awful time-management skills that we need to work on,” a snort leaves your nose “However last time you were able to give that other presentation while only having studied two days prior. If you try hard enough, everything will be okay. We’ll be okay. I’m gonna help you.”

You’re pretty sure the tears are running down your face at this point. You sniff tour nose. “Thank you.” Megumi leans down and gives your forehead a kiss. “But now, we need to get some rest. We both have early clases tomorrow. Well, today, technically.”

You get up from your position and make it to your bed. He’s hugging you while your head is on top of his chest. From this position you’re able to hear his heartbeat slowly lulling you to sleep.

can you tell i’m proyecting with this one? i literally wrote it at midnight. stress is eating me alive, so please excuse me if this seems like a self insert. i know people who are currently dealing with a lot in uni, so i hope this can help you if you’re going through the same.

—han

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU pt 56

part 1 | part 55 | ao3

March

"Steve, honey," Claudia calls from the living room, where he can hear her shuffling around to get her things ready for work — the rustle of a jacket, the clink of keys against her thermos. "Do you need anything before you go?"

"I'm fine, Ma!" Steve answers.

And he is. He is fine. It’s been three weeks, and Steve is fine! He has a date tonight with a girl he doesn’t care about, and he's gonna cheer on Lucas at the championship game, and the other day at work he got a fifty cent per hour raise. And sure, his nightmares are worse than ever and his head aches all the time, and he’s had some weirdly persistent sinus infection or some shit going on, but he only teared up once this week while jerking off to thoughts of Eddie, so.

All in all, not bad.

He shoves a plain bagel in his mouth and rushes to leave the house; passes Claudia on the way out, who's now rapping her knuckles impatiently against Dustin’s door and asking, “Dusty, what’s going on in there? You’re gonna be late!" to which Dustin replies with a panicked shriek: “DON’T COME IN, I’M NAKED!”

Jesus Christ. "Deafen my other ear, why don't you?" Steve mutters under his breath.

He throws Ma a parting wave and heads out to pick up Robin so he can take her to school before his shift starts. She looks nicer than usual, and she won’t stop reapplying her mascara, and by the time Object of My Desire starts playing on the radio Steve is practically begging her to just suck it up and end this will-they-won’t-they thing with Vickie because it’s been months of obvious flirting and Robin still won’t make a move.

“I listen to you, and now look at me!” he argues, as if the handful of pointless dates he’s used to distract himself from Eddie are anything to look at. “Boom. Back in business.“

“Mm,” she objects, a little ‘you’re so full of shit’ frown on her face. “Not the same thing.”

Don’t say it, you bitch, don’t even—

“You ask out a girl and she says no…”

Oh, thank fuck. Steve sags in relief and licks the corner of his mouth as he listens to her rant, grateful that she’s just working the small town homophobia angle and very graciously not pointing out how half-hearted and sad his attempts to move on with his life have been. It’s a small mercy he repays by rambling about girls and boobies and girls who definitely like boobies until she scowls so hard at him that she smudges her mascara and has to apply another coat.

—

Dustin calls the store some time around lunch. Asks if Steve wants to sub in for Lucas at tonight’s Hellfire campaign, which, first of all, fuck you — he’s been helping Lucas practice for months now, he’s not about to miss this game — and secondly:

“What, to hang out with you and Eddie the Freak Munson?” he asks, idly playing with a slinky. “Uh, yeah. I’ll pass.”

"Dude."

"What?"

"You can’t just call him names because you’re pissed at him! That’s not cool!”

Steve rolls his eyes and tugs the slinky so hard it flops off the counter’s edge.

“Look,” Dustin says, his voice dipping into that low and slow and trustworthy thing that makes Steve want to snap the kid’s non-existent collarbones. “I know you won’t tell me what happened, but whatever it was, he’s sorry, okay? He’s really, really sorry. And he asks me about you, like, every day; if I didn’t know any better I’d swear he was in love with you or something.” Steve chokes on his own spit, and Dustin just keeps going; steps right over Steve’s corpse to continue his impassioned plea. “Besides, friends forgive each other! Right, Steve?”

Goddammit. Steve really regrets saying those exact words in that exact order the last time Lucas and Dustin had a fight. “Man, you can’t just use my own brotherly advice against me.”

“I can, and I will.” Wow. What a little shit. “Seriously, dude, come on! How many times do I have to pass on his apology messages before you just talk to him?”

How many times? How many times?

Steve doesn’t know.

He just knows he’s not ready; knows that as soon as he talks to Eddie, it’ll make it all real. It’ll be over for good. Whatever words they exchange next will get etched into the headstone of the thing they briefly had. He opens his mouth to say something, to try and make sense of the vortex in his head, but all he gets for the effort is a fresh migraine coming on.

He’s saved from answering by the doorbell’s chime. “I got some customers,” he says over Dustin's squawk of protest. “Gotta call you back, bye.”

—

part 57

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[out-there-tmblr]

Young zaundads wip (20)

***

At the end of the month, Silco forgoes a day's pay to line up with Vander and withdraw money. It's the same as always: a long snaking queue across the courtyard, two Piltie bookkeepers sitting with their piles of folders and the cash box between them; six bored looking enforcers standing behind them, with their masks and goggles, hands loose on their guns.

It's the same as always, but Silco keeps his arms crossed and his scowl grows meaner with every shuffling step forward. He looks like he's about to start ranting about the unfairness of having to beg for wages they've already earned.

"Stop looking at me like that," Silco hisses at him, which feels unfair given that Vander hasn't said anything. "I'm not stupid enough to say something in front of enforcers."

"I'm well aware you're not stupid," Vander says gently, but it doesn't work. Silco only glares at him. "I mean it. Sharp as a fish hook, my Ma would say."

"She really was a riversider," Silco mutters back and Vander will happily take the edge of mocking rather than that tightly-held anger.

"Got something against riverside? Going to tell me we all smell like chum?"

Silco raises an eyebrow in challenge. "That you can't walk straight on land unless you're drunk?"

"That a freshly washed riversider only has silt between their toes?"

Silco snorts in amusement as they shuffle forward another step. "And the only way to get their attention is to dress in canvas and bring rope?"

Vander laughs at that one. It's such a stupid fisherman joke, but it's not the sort of joke anyone makes around a guy Vander's size. "Yeah, that's us. If it doesn't float or have fins, we're not interested."

Silco tilts his head, his expression becoming thoughtful. "Why didn't you join a boat? Better than being here."

"I get seasick," Vander says, like stepping onto a boat doesn't make him think of his father every damn time. Wonder if he should be mourning or fuming.

"You grew up by the river. How can you get seasick?"

"It's a skill."

"Not a very good one," Silco replies and they shuffle forward another step.

It takes another hour of standing in the electric lights of the courtyard, but eventually they get to the bookkeepers. There's no true privacy in the mine – too many people and not enough space. From his spot in line, Vander hears Silco requesting a balance, and pulling out his notebook. A large folder is opened on the table, the bookkeeping looking up Silco's name.

He reads out the figure and Silco copies it down, while Vander looks on, stunned. It's over twenty thousand bronze. Vander has to cunt on his fingers to translate that debt to gold, but two thousand four hundred gold sounds even worse. Three hundred gold is an impossible figure. Ten times that…

But Silco doesn't even blink at that figure. He just nods and then says, "I want to withdraw coin. How much am I allowed to withdraw on credit?" He withdraws the maximum amount and then asks for half of it in silver.

Vander gets waved over to the other bookkeeper as the coins are counted out.

Vander has nearly eight hundred bronze owed to him. He withdraws most of it, even takes some out in gold just to hold the sparkle in his hand.

He finds Silco waiting for him with a pouch of coins. "Sixty. We didn't agree on interest, but five seems fair."

"For the wood?" Vander stares at the pouch, at the seven bronze lect in Silco's palm. "You don't have to pay me. I don't need–"

"There's nothing free down here," Silco talks over him. "You pay now or you pay later. I don't like building up debts."

"You owe them over twenty thousand!"

Silco looks up at Vander, not backing down an inch. "To be precise, twenty-one thousand, five hundred and eighty. I won't owe you as well."

"Look," Vander says, wrapping a hand around Silco's arm and tugging him away from the others. "I'm sleeping there too. Every night, I'm saving money because I don't have to pay for a bunk. If we're both gaining from it, we should go halves in the costs."

Through narrowed blue eyes, Silco considers it.

"And no interest," Vander adds. "Not between us. We're better than the damn company."

Silco gives one sharp nod to that. "Fine. Halves. That's twenty-seven bronze."

Vander hands him back the pouch. "And the bed too. We should go halves in that."

Silco glances down at his coins, and quickly realises he'll have just enough. "I could have waited until next month, Vander. I don't need charity."

"The isn't charity. This is us working together and improving life for both of us." Vander leans down, low enough that he can whisper right into Silco's ear. Boice pitched carefullylow, he adds, "And this way I don't have to wait to fuck you in a real bed."

***

[sunnyie-eve]

1 | Triplets

Series: Unexpected

Paring: (Matt Sturniolo x OFC Brock!) (Chris Sturniolo x OFC Brock!)

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: none

| MASTERLIST |

~

Sam and Colby were now mostly known for their ghost hunting videos on YouTube. At times Colby would bring his younger sister, Dani, along since she was so interested into it. Like for this trip to Austin Texas to investigate the Driskill Hotel, she was tagging along with him and Sam.

"Dani, you seem very excited for this video." Sam says as they wait for the Sturniolo Triplets to show up.

"Do I?" She smiles a bit since she was excited to see Nick in person.

Her and Nick have been friends online for the past like two years and never have gotten the chance to meet up yet. So for this collab between them and the triples were their first time getting to see each other in person.

"Yes, you do. You excited to be here or you get to meet the triplets?" Sam gives her a look as Colby was busy.

"Sam, seriously?" She laughs.

"I'm playing with you." He gives her a hug.

After a while the Triples show up and everyone handshakes except Dani and Nick giving each other a hug. They all chat for a bit before starting to film.

"What's up guys it's Sam and Colby." Colby starts.

"Today we have..." Sam starts.

"Me!" Dani hops into frame.

"Yep, my sister." Colby smiles.

"But is it just me?" Dani says with a smile as well tilting her head.

"We have some very special guests today too. You have literally been asking us every single month to collab with theses people. The Sturniolo Triples!" Colby interduces them.

"Are you excited?" Dani asks them so they all agree, " Gonna be a good night."

"I hope to find triple ghost tonight." Chris says making everyone laugh.

"Scared at all or nervous?" Colby asks them, "Or just excited?"

"I'm scared." Chris answers honestly.

"Let's not front. I'm terrified." Nick says for himself.

"It's gonna be fine, Nick." She gives him a reassuring smile.

Dani was the type of person everyone felt safe and comfortable around, even if they knew each other, hardly did, or not at all.

"Better be,"

"I don't even go on rollercoasters. I don't do anything scary." Chris lets the other three know.

"Tonight will be a rollercoaster of emotions." Dani says causing him to laugh with her.

"I wanna do the Estes Method." Nick changes the topic.

"I remember you telling me that." Dani nods her head.

"You two have talked before this?" Matt asks looking at the two.

"We're friends. Benn talking to her for a year or more now. She's like one of my best friends. But this is our first time meeting face to face." Nick explains to his brothers.

"I had no idea." Colby looks at Dani.

She just looks at him knowing what he was thinking, "You've never asked."

"Our secret friendship is gone." Nick laughs.

"I can't believe this..." Matt says surprised. He thought Nick would have told him he was friends with Colby's younger sister.

"Who knew Nick could be so secretive? And not tell us." Chris adds.

"It's not that big of a secret." Nick rolls his eyes.

"Okay, what's your guys believably scale on this stuff?" Colby changes the subject back to the video.

"I'm like at a 9.5 honestly." Chris shocks Sam and Colby.

"I'm a 10 but I have no reason to be at a ten. Like nothing has happened to me to be like at a ten. But I'm at a ten." Nick says his.

"I'd say eight." Matt keeps his short before they walk around.

"Nick, loves guys with facial hair." Chris jokes as they al walk over to the big painting.

"Stop speaking forever." Nick points at him.

"He's not wrong, you do." Dani adds.

"So do you." Nick gives her a look.

"Hey, it depends if they can pull it off or not. If no, I'll shave it myself. And it works the same around. Some people with facial hair look weird with a clean face. Like grow it back, please." Dani goes on a little rant.

"Okay, now the whole world know how you feel. Also I need like a copy of this in my room." Nick talks about the painting and frame.

"Excuse me?" Colby asks looking at the camera causing everyone to laugh.

"The frame and everything. The frame is very ornate." Nick pleads his case.

"Whatever you say." Matt laughs.

"The frame id very ornate." Chris mocks Nick.

"It's a pretty frame." Dani says to have Nick's back.

"She gets it." Nick high-fives Dani.

"You two are going to kill me." Colby shakes his head at the two.

"Good." Dani pats his back making his eyes widen.

"This guy is gonna haunt us in our sleep." Sam tells the group as they all just stare at the painting.

"I can't wait to meet big Daddy D." Chris says.

"I wonder if he's just is like always around his picture frame, like he loves just being here." Nick keeps his eyes on the painting.

"So a ghost who loves looking at himself?" Dani looks away from it and Chris cracks up.

"Oh, I love the carpeted stairs." Nick says as the make their way up to the second floor.

"I hate them actually." Matt adds, "I feel like I'm gonna fall when I walk on carpet."

Dani was shocked by hearing him say that, "Like in general or only on the stairs?" She asks him.

"In general,"

"Huh, you're odd." She can't help but laugh at him.

"Dani, don't expect anything normal from Matt." Chris speaks up so Matt tells him to shut up.

The second floor only felt weird to Dani since it was so open, "They need to put more furniture up here."

"That's what I was thinking." Chris agrees with her.

"Any of you guys know how to play the piano?" Matt asks seeing one in the middle the the room.

"Do you?" Sam asks him.

"Dani knows one song. I'm jealous of her." Nick walks over to see if it's open for her to play.

"Wait, you can play the piano?" Colby asks not knowing that about her.

"As Nick said, one song."

"What song do you know?" Matt asks her.

"Fly me to the moon,"

"It's closed. I probably shouldn't open it." Nick gets upset, "I wanted to hear Dani play."

"Honestly, I'm happy. I'd be too nervous to play in front of you guys and a camera." She walks away from it.

"I'd love to walk into another room later and then just hear the piano playing." Chris touches the piano.

"Yes!" Dani agrees, loving the idea.

"That'd be fun."

"You two are crazy." Nick looks at them as they smile wanting it to happen badly, "Since knowing Dani, I never thought she'd get along with either Matt or Chris." He adds.

"Why?" Colby asks curious since he was protective of her.

"Just her vibes,"

"I never thought that..." Dani looks over at Matt and Chris. They both seemed funny and great from just their videos.

"Maybe just Matt." Chris decides to mess around with him.

"What?! What's wrong with me?" He asks him.

"Obviously something to them." Sam laughs.

"There's nothing wrong with him." Dani shakes her head with a little grin.

"You'll take that back getting to know him." Chris laughs while Matt glares at his brother.

"Topic change," Colby speaks up again, "Who's do you think is the most scared?"

"Yeah, who's scaredy-cat?" Dani asks.

Both Matt and Nick point at Chris and he points at himself agreeing as well, "At least you aren't embarrassed to admit it." Dani tells him before Nick explains they hate horror stuff.

He goes on to say he saw his first horror movie because he had to in a film studies class in school. That they've never done a haunted house ever, the three of them. And Matt adds that they bailed on an escape room because it was too scary.

"Why are you doing this?" Colby asks them.

"Welcome to the channel guys." Sam smiles.

"I'm surprised that we're present right now." Nick laughs, "But we're gonna do it."

"Yeah, it's gonna be awesome. There's only 90 ghosts that roam here every second." Colby tells the camera.

"I'm excited to meet them all." Nick says excitedly.

"I got like the cold sweats." Matt pays his pits, "I'm freezing but I'm sweating."

"You guys could easily do like a deodorant brand deal." Chris says fake putting in deodorant.

"People would literally buy it. No doubt." Dani leans on Colby's back wrapping her arms around him, "Make more money to spend on me to go on trips." She smiles so he pushes her away playfully.

[akiraiscute]

Yandere!Killua X Hunter!Reader

Tw ; Yandere shit, gore (idk what to add)

KILLUA IS A CHILD IN THIS AND SO IS READER. SO ITS NOTHING ELSE THAN KISSING AND HUGGING AND CUDDLING.

Yet all of this could off been avoided, everything could off been avoided if you didn’t go to the hunter exam. Everything, every last detail, every single word you said to both of them but here the fuck you are. Hugging the person who is absolutely obsessed with you, yes you don’t know but still.. its such a horrible move but you’re here with gon, Killua can’t just confess his love for you in front of gon or that blonde guy and black hair guy! That would make it awkward as well. But You were worried sick about killua, you even came with gon and uh, Kurapika and Le- Leorio.. Doesn’t that mean you care about him? If he even thinks about it, he gets this weird feeling. Killua doesn’t like that weird feeling at all.

“Kil! You’re bruised?! Are you okay?!”

“Oh..oh im fine..”

“You don’t look fine!”

“Oh shut up gon!…”

Killua said embarrassed as his reddening face got called out by gon, again. Leorio and kurapika smiled at the three, adoring this scene as it played. They both started to laugh a bit.. Just because he gets red around you, doesn’t mean shit! Doesn’t mean he has a crush on you, not at all. That’s weird! Super duper weird! But, but seeing you get even more worried for him, was making him weak.. isn’t that a bad sign?! Being weak is bad, right..? Yea! It is! He can’t stand you making him suddenly weak, just because you care about him doesn’t matter! Doesn’t mean anything either.. God, maybe Killua was head over heels for you, maybe he would just.. confess his love, maybe. And maybe! You’ll say yes and you two could live happily, away from his family too… god he wanted that. He didn’t want his fucked up family to take you away, nor take him away from you. He can’t stand being away fro- What is he thinking! He just met you, maybe a few weeks ago! Or a month ago! He can’t be talking like this about you. Ugh..

“Let’s go already, my mother may already be heading this way.”

“Oh! Okay!”

“What is your mother like anyways?”

That made Killua’s gears turning. He started to rant about his mother doing stuff, crazy stuff. Might i add.. Walking past the servants or whatever and kept talking as gon and you said bye and ran after him, Kurapika and leorio doing the same but walking. When You five got outside, kurapika started to speak, sorta talking over Killua but Killua didn’t mind as along as he got to look at you really, maybe he’s realizing he’s obsessed.. maybe he is! Maybe he’s gonna try stopping himself from doing anything.

After the two left, Killua was already talking to gon about him beating hisoka. He tried to show how far away gon was from hisoka as well, making sure gon knows.

“What about you?”

Gon asked before Killua immediately made the line medium size.. Killua thought he was so humble, yea right but it made you laugh. He.. he made you laugh right?! That counts, he made you laugh… god he was going to think this over in his head over and over, gon groaned as he let out another sigh, not knowing what to do even. Before Killua suggested to go to heavens arena, which both of you and gon found that going to heavens arena was a good idea! Even if you both don’t even know what heavens arena is..

You three got the tickets online, and was on the airline as soon as it was there. Both gon and killua talking, sometimes you adding in as well.. as you were just tired from going to killua’s house even! God, opening those big ass doors were horrible for you and your back.. you yawned before leaning back into your seat, finally falling asleep as Killua and Gon were talking until Killua noticed you sleeping and he stared at you sleeping so peacefully.. he felt sorta at peace for that at least you were sleeping and not hurt. He zoned out really before Gon snapped him out of it really.

————————————————————————————————

Im tired soso, Everything i do will have a part two prob😭😭 but have this my bbys, finally getting into my hxh stuff😊🫶

— Aki.. Akira… Loggi.. Logging… off..

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Imagines: She’s Electric

————————————————————————-

Summary: Tee’s nosiness comes in handy.

(Part three to - part 1, part 2)

Warnings: None

Pairing: Joe Burrow x *athletic trainer* reader

Imagine Universe: Misc.

————————————————————————-

September 12, 2022 - *Continuation of last part*

“They were talking about me?” - Joe

“Yeah…” - Tee

Tee looked around before sitting down at the table and leaning in close.

“Well? What were they saying?” - Joe

“Joe… did you guys hook up?” - Tee

“Yeah…” - Joe

“Oh. Okay, that makes more sense, but Nick asked her if she'd told you yet. I don't know what, but she was supposed to tell you something. She said no and that after you guys hooked up, she panicked. Told you that it was just a one-night stand.” - Tee

All at once, all of the guys looked at me with the same look on their faces.

“That means she wanted more then.” - Joe

“Seems like it, but I think you might've lost your chance.” - Tee

“Why'd you say that?” - Sam

“She put her two weeks in. She told Nick this was the last team she was working for. And get this… the only player she slept with was the guy from the Niners. The ones from other teams were all made-up rumors, which is why she kept leaving teams.” - Tee

“How'd that come up?” - Sam

“That's why she freaked out and didn't tell Joe she liked him. y/n told Nick that she didn't want him to have to be connected to her name.” - Tee

Without saying a word, I jumped up from the table and started toward the trainer’s offices.

I barged into y/n’s office to find only Nick.

“Where is she?!” - Joe

“Who? y/n-.” - Nick

“Yes, y/n. Where is she?” - Joe

“She left… why?” - Nick

“I need to tell her.” - Joe

Nick cocked his head to the side, a confused look on his face.

“Tell her what?” - Nick

“That I want her. All of her. I don't care about the rumors that are connected to her name. Tee overheard your conversation, and I can't let her get away without her knowing how I seriously feel.” - Joe

I noticed a small smile forming on Nick’s face as I spoke, and he nodded when I was done.

“Tell me how you ‘seriously feel’, son.” - Nick

“Her smile, man, it's like a burst of sunshine that can light up even the gloomiest of days. Every time she walks into a room, my heart starts racing like crazy, and I can't help but get lost in her presence. She's got this amazing sense of humor that always has me cracking up, and her laugh is so infectious. She's not just a pretty face - she's super smart and talented too. I could spend hours talking to her about anything and everything. I just… she's electric.” - Joe

Cutting my answer short when I realized I was ranting, Nick chuckled and leaned back in his chair.

“What if I told you that you just did?” - Nick

“Did what…” - Joe

“You told y/n how you seriously feel.” - Nick

Confusion was the only word to describe how I was feeling. My expression matched Nick’s earlier one.

“Turn around, Joe.” - Nick

My stomach dropped, and I slowly turned on my heels to see y/n standing behind me in the doorway. She was slightly jaw-dropped.

“I forgot my water bottle… had to come and grab it. Did you mean… everything?” - you

“Yes.” - Joe

After letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding in, Nick patted me on the back and left the room.

He shut the door behind him, and I looked down to my feet.

“Joe, I'm really scared.” - you

“About what?” - Joe searched your eyes with his own

“How I feel about you. I've never felt it about someone before. It's just that we've only known each other for a month, and there's so much you don't know about me. The rumors too, being with an NFL player after my ‘history’ is a bad look for me and my job.” - you

“We can get to know each other more before anything serious happens, but just know that I seriously care about you. I don't give a shit about the rumors because they're not true and don't define you. Also, you're crazy if you think I'm going to let your job get affected because of me.” - Joe

“So… what now?” - you

As our eyes met, a wave of emotions washed over us. The air crackled with anticipation, and time seemed to stand still.

With trembling voices, we confessed our feelings, poured our hearts out to each other, and said every word we'd been thinking since that one night. At once, all doubts and fears faded away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of joy and connection.

We took each other's hands, knowing that this was the start of something incredible.

At that moment, everything felt charged with an indescribable energy.

And so, hand in hand, we stepped into a future filled with endless possibilities, knowing that our love would always be electric, igniting our hearts with a love that would never fade.

————————————————————————-

A/N: Everlasting Love is defrosting.

Hope you enjoyed! 💕💕

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Shannon Watts at Playing With Fire:

So, it’s been dismaying, to say the least, to watch too many Democratic leaders mostly fail to meet the moment after Donald Trump was reelected. Instead of speaking from a place of outrage, they’re going on Sunday cable shows and spewing consultant speak. Instead of pushing back on Trump’s reckless and dangerous orders, some are voting to pass his legislation and approve his cabinet picks. Instead of giving the 75 million voters who supported them their marching orders, they’re either ignoring us or sending emails asking for money.

Despite all of the warnings and the polling and the three-month planning period between the election and the inauguration, Democratic leaders decided to show up for a knife fight with a cheese stick. My anger about this finally came to a head after I read that seven Democrats had voted to confirm Kristi Noem as Secretary of the Department of Homeland Security. Noem, a Trump acolyte, has vowed to carry out Trump’s shameless and despicable mass migration operation. As I am wont to do when angry, I posted a rant online, which included this complaint: “…to watch Democrats make millions off of stock trades, cozy up to people they admitted were fascists, trade obligation for access, and play internal politics while democracy is destroyed is a disappointment I don't have words for.”

To be clear, my disappointment doesn’t mean I’m not a Democrat anymore. I continue to believe in the party’s platform, promise and potential. However, my experience as an activist has taught me that if voters demand a course correction, loudly and publicly, it can force change. For example, back in 2012, about a quarter of all Democrats in Congress had an A-rating from the NRA—until our volunteers started calling them out online and in real life. In Virginia, Sen. Mark Warner was voting for the gun lobby’s priority legislation. Our volunteers started showing up wherever he went, including fundraisers. At one such event, a group of women in our red shirts cornered the Senator inside someone’s home and told him they would not tolerate his allegiance to the NRA and would hold him accountable if he didn’t publicly separate himself from their agenda. Lo and behold, weeks later, Warner did exactly that, and an entire army of women in red shirts helped get him reelected in November. And he’s been on the right side of history ever since.

[...]

There’s nothing Democrats can do; we don’t any have power

You don’t have to have legislative power to oppose and protest; to educate and resist; to organize and galvanize supporters. In fact, it’s often easier to oppose than it is to lead. For example, Trump has essentially declared war on cancer patients by delaying the study-section meetings where grant money gets doled out to cancer studies. As a result, crucial research is likely to be delayed or abandoned due to a lack of funding. This arbitrary freeze is outrageous and Democrats shouldn’t wait for focus groups or polling or consultant input to create a campaign that calls out this betrayal of Americans, regardless of their political party. What would Trump do if he was the one in the opposition party? He’d concoct some kind of stunt to harness public attention and anger. He might draft resolutions, show up at lawmakers’ offices accompanied by cameras, or bring cancer patients and doctors to a press conference. In that same vein, Democrats should stop faxing wonky statements into the ether and start showing up where Americans are paying attention. As former White House communications staffer Aaron Huertes posted online, “Every Trump outrage is an opportunity to communicate core messages to different constituencies.”

Party leaders need to be less concerned about controlling the message and more invested in communicating authenticity to the broadest audience possible.

We’re letting Republicans hang themselves; Trump’s behavior is a distraction

Elder Democrats seem to think doing nothing will win them the midterm elections (just like they thought letting Roe v Wade get overturned would give them a blue wave). Obviously, we can cut our time in hell in half if we win the midterms, but that’s only IF THERE ARE EVEN MIDTERM ELECTIONS. Nothing is a given, and it isn’t safe to assume anything in this volatile political environment. As columnist Jamelle Bouie recently wrote, “It is not a distraction to vocally oppose Trump’s would-be nominees or highlight his extreme intentions. Democrats should look at every aspect of the next Trump administration as an opportunity to do, well, politics—to demonstrate their values and show the extent to which this president has no plan to pursue the public good. The quiet and supposedly responsible approach of the past four years is a dead end.

[...]

Call first, email second: Call your Senators and Representatives every single day to thank or shame them.

If the lawmaker you call is a Democrat who’s aiding and abetting the Republican agenda, say this: “As a rank-and-file voter and an American, I feel exposed, unprotected, and unsupported by Democratic leaders. It feels like [NAME OF LAWMAKER] is in hiding. I want to be given a plan for resisting and assurances that [NAME OF LAWMAKER] will stand up and fight.” If the lawmaker you call is a Republican, say: “I am being harmed by the Trump agenda and I demand [NAME OF LAWMAKER] stops kowtowing to the President and starts caring about his constituents.” I promise you, these calls matter! The whole reason 15 Republican Senators voted for the Bipartisan Safer Communities Act is because they received so many calls from constituents that they became concerned about the consequences of ignoring them. So, this week, call your lawmakers every day—regardless of political party—and in addition to telling them to act, demand they VOTE NO on cabinet nominees Kash Patel, Tulsi Gabbard and Robert F Kennedy.

[...]

Post online: Too many progressive people and groups are leaving social media spaces where they could be challenging Republican policy. After leaving Twitter/X in the post-Elon Musk era, groups like the ACLU, the Human Rights Campaign, and Planned Parenthood have ceded important ground to their opponents. My posts this week on Twitter and Bluesky went viral and led to calls from lawmakers, fellow activists, and reporters from major publications. People are paying attention and looking for someone to say what they’re thinking. Did I get blowback? Sure—some people told me not to criticize Democrats, others told me I’d conveniently ignored party issues for a decade, others suggested I’ve gone MAGA. I’ll live.

Love this post from Shannon Watts on Substack: Democrats need to show a spine and fight against Fascist Trump.

[utilitycaster]

no d20 spoilers here since i know you know the gist of the drama but the fact that both kipperlilly (and the ratgrinders as a whole) and laudna are sending the their respective fandoms into meltdowns is FASCINATING to me!!! Especially happening at roughly the same time

I am now officially caught up and. not to brag but, called it re: the Rat Grinders, huh, except it's even more stupid. Like. The "but they're literally minors?" argument sort of falls apart given that they're the same age as the Bad Kids, and are actively trying to kill them, the "but redemption" argument doesn't mean shit since at no point did they make any forays towards redemption and indeed sicced a bunch of dragons on the Bad Kids, and so we're left with nothing but an impotent desire to not have a sick-ass battle in the finale of a D20 Campaign. And, perhaps, an uncomfortable realization that they are not unlike the Rat Grinders and the narrative said "lmao yeah you suck".

Laudna's shit? not that different actually. Like there's a lot of reasons why the arguments defending her are bullshit but the biggest one is that the "Laudna has never done anything wrong ever in her life and Imogen is her tether" crowd have painted themselves into a delightfully tiny little corner and they can't hide it anymore. Like, okay, so, is Laudna in control of her actions? Because if so she just attacked Orym in the middle of the night. Is she not? Because if so why hasn't she made the efforts that Chetney and FCG and Imogen (at least sometimes) did to address that? If the issue is trauma why is hers more valid than that of others? If it's abuse tell me how you feel about Caleb, Fjord, Beau, and Percy? Why is Orym shutting down the conversation when he says the Vanguard killed his family but Laudna's not doing the same when she tells Ashton not to speak to her of loneliness and Chetney not to speak to her of loss when she doesn't have a monopoly on either?

Why is it Bells Hells' job to endlessly accomodate Laudna and why are so many people suddenly talking about Bells Hells as an abstract 7-headed entity that didn't deal with Laudna's problems when those same people (if they were around at the time of the gnarlrock airing, and many of them weren't) were like "NO THEY SHOULD MAKE UP AS FAST AS POSSIBLE AND IMOGEN IS A BITCH BECAUSE LAUDNA DIDN'T MEAN IT." Why wasn't it an issue for them when Laudna's ranting about her time in Issylra and how hard it was got shut down by Imogen kissing her because that's why it didn't stay in the spotlight. Why wasn't it an issue for them when Imogen said "if you need her, that's my answer"? Why is it Orym or "Bells Hells" in the abstract who never spent time on Laudna's trauma after months if not years of throwing a fit any time someone (often me) (not always though) pointed out how much Imogen and Laudna were shoving under the rug and not dealing with? What does it say that you can't even expect Laudna's partner to be the one supporting her through this- it has to be Orym? Why doesn't Laudna have any responsibility here? At minimum she could have spoken up about the sword at at least two if not three junctures and she didn't.

There's a lot of things I hold in contempt, and after the obvious things like bigotry, two I really detest are hypocrisy and dereliction of responsibility. It's been extremely telling with both the D20 and CR discourse that people do not like seeing the story and the fandom say "hey actually you need to take responsibility for your actions, you only get redemption if you work for it, and if you leave a room hoping someone will follow you without saying that's what you want? Don't be surprised if no one does." The reason everyone was preparing to stop Laudna was because she was, in every action and decision, showing herself to be a person in need of being stopped. Can you describe this perfect balance of gentleness in which she's never pushed too hard but she does talk about her trauma and work through it and in doing so leaves Delilah? Have you demanded any other member of Bells Hells be granted that same gentleness and patience and kindness or do you think Orym should get over his grief because it's inconvenient to your arguments.

Just as the Rat Grinders show the narrative saying "being an entitled, resentful, jealous person who hurts others from jealousy makes you an easy tool to be manipulated into cruelty and you need to deal with that," I think Laudna shows the narrative (and certainly the fandom) saying "you do have an obligation to deal with your trauma, especially if it causes you to hurt others, and you can ask for help but you can't just sit on your ass waiting for someone else to initiate the process for you" as well as "if you do hurt people because of your trauma they may be angry with you, this may shape how they see you, and they are justified in that because you hurt them" and I think people in both fandoms hate being told that because I think a lot of the people sparking the discourse really do think that you can shield yourself from criticism over your hurtful actions by claiming trauma or neurodivergence or mental illness or whatever and it's like, no, you do still suck, you just also had sucky things happen to you as well.

[elliesfavbae]

Are you nervous, flower? - first kiss with Ellie, part 1

synopsis: Your more experienced at kissing best friend helps you out

Pairing: Ellie Williams x unexperienced!reader

warnings: just a fluff, my first fic too (how do i crop a pic)!

part two, part three

wc: ab 1500

It was a hot summer day. Like 32 degrees celsius outside. The sweet space of your room was no better. You were BOILING, everything sticking to your skin. Ellie could’ve said the same, sitting next to you in your room. It was like she was a part of your room’s scenery at this point, she was there almost all the time. You have been friends since you remember, spending every while with each other. Ellie recently broke up with her girlfriend and she was ranting about it:

“I let her be my girlfriend for two months for what?! So she can cheat on me WITH A MAN?” She emphasizes the last three words

It seemed like she wasn’t upset about losing her, just was frustrated she “wasted” so much time, as she describes it.

“I’m telling you, she wasn’t worth it” You try to comfort her. But the amount of times she has told you about her break up within the last week is uncountable, and you can’t think of any good responses anymore.

“Yeah, I know” Ellie rolls her eyes at your answer and groans, throwing her head back.

“It could’ve been worse though. Like, you could’ve been together for a year or something” You try again but it doesn’t seem to work well and Ellie sighs.

“Two months is a long period of time anyways. You don’t understand, you’ve never had a girlfriend” She whines, throwing herself next to you on your bed.

“Hey!” You throw a pillow at her. “I still have time” 

“Okay, okay” She puts her hands up in a defensive gesture. She’s making fun of your lack of romantic relations whenever she can. “But you can do like, a lot of things in two months in a relationship“

“A lot of things? Like..?” You look at her, curiosity in your eyes as a thought occurs in your mind “Like… have you done the deed?”

“What? No! Ew, don’t say it like that” Another groan escapes Ellies’ lips and she hides her face in hands. “We just… Kissed. A lot. Unlike you” She smirks as she finds another reason to make fun of you.

You don’t say anything because you know it’s true. Yeah, you haven’t kissed anyone yet. It’s not like you didn’t want to, you just… Never had a chance.

“Actually, why have you never kissed?” She turns right to face you. There is no malice in her voice, just pure curiosity.

You drop your gaze down “I don’t know I just… I haven’t had a good opportunity, I guess?”

“Bullshit. If you wanted to do it, you’ve already done it. Seriously, with that pretty face of yours?” She jokingly strokes your cheek

Your gaze is still running away from Ellie’s inquisitive irises. Suddenly, it feels like the temperature just increased by another 32 degrees.

“I guess I am just too nervous to do it. I have, like, no idea how to kiss” You admit

A chuck escapes Ellie’s lips “Sorry, shouldn’t be laughing but it sounds ridiculous. You’ve never kissed because you don’t know how? Yet you don’t even want to try” Ellie really tries not to laugh but can’t help a giggle which she tries to cover with a cough

“It’s just not that easy as it sounds. Not for me” Though she is laughing, you don’t feel amused. You realized it’s true, you’re actually scared to kiss.

“Listen, I’m really sorry” The girl says when she sees your serious expression. Ellie puts her hand on your arm “What if someone… showed you?” Her lips curl into a playful smile

I finally let my gaze meet your eyes “Like a movie?” You awkwardly chuckle, trying not to jump to any conclusions.

“No dumbass, like a person would actually… teach you. Would that make you less nervous?” Ellie suddenly sounds kind and now it’s her gaze that runs away from your eyes.

I gulp. It’s obvious what Ellie means now “Like… you want to kiss me?” You ask, a ray of hope creeping into your voice

“No, I, uh. I don’t necessarily want to, I just want to be a good friend and help you out” She sounds so nervous all of a sudden.

“Well, yeah sure, you can steal my first kiss” I say sarcastically, but to be honest you actually want her to help me out.

“Alright, come here” Ellie’s confident again, she pats a space on your bed in front of her, inviting you to sit closer.

You take a deep breath as you change your position, fake yawning to check for bad breath hoping Ellie didn’t notice that. But she did.

“I don’t care about your breath, really” She chuckles again but it doesn’t sound annoying. Not anymore.

“It's not like I thought you would, I know you won't judge me and-” I start mumbling because of the nerves “fuck I don’t even know what I’m saying” I admit with a sigh and an awkward smile.

“Are you nervous, flower?” She brings her hands to your cheeks and gently strokes them and you feel dizzy as if the blood left your whole brain, but in reality it’s quite the opposite. A blush creeps on your cheeks. Ellie has never called you a name like that before.

“I promise it will feel nice” Your best friend half-whispers and you feel like the whole world is spinning. You must have a real stupid look on your face but you don’t even care at this moment.

“So,” she starts “It’s all about what you do before the kiss” She puts her hands down and looks you into the eyes. Then her gaze lands on your mouth and your eyes again.

“You should look them into the eyes, at their lips, and into the eyes again.” She bites her lip “Extra points if you do that.” You are so lost in this moment you don’t really listen to her anymore. You can smell her cologne and shower gel. You can feel how hard your heart is pumping, too.

“And if you’re bold enough” She stops to bring her hand to your ear and she tucks a strand of hair behind it “You can do this. Trust me, it works” But you’re a living proof it works, as well as the damp spot on your underwear is.

“So? Are you ready?”

At first, you forget words in your throat. You clear it, and answer, your voice just a whisper “...Yeah”

She puts her hands on your cheeks once again and pulls you closer. You watch as she closes her eyes, so you do the same. And then you feel her lips on yours. It doesn’t feel like you imagined, it’s wet and slippery. But she was right, it feels really nice. She sucks gently on your lower lip, tilting her head, so you do the same to her upper lip. You feel so many things at once, yet you feel numb at the same time. Butterflies in your stomach going crazy, the smell of her warm skin, soft lips against yours, confident fingers holding your cheeks, her saliva mixing with yours, throbbing between your legs. The only sound in the room is this wet kissing sound you are making and your heartbeat. And, did you hear that right, a whimper from Ellie? The kiss lasted about five seconds, but it felt like eternity to you. 

Ellie pulls away from the kiss. She keeps her hands on your face and you already miss her soft lips.

“So? How did your first kiss feel?” That’s all she says as if nothing has happened. As if she didn’t just kiss her best friend for the first time.

You touch your lips with your fingers, like you are checking if it actually happened. You are speechless at first, but finally manage to say something, it doesn’t even make sense. “Wow.. It was.. thanks Ellie”

“What?” She furrows her eyebrows with a smirk on her lips. “Um, you want advice? Another try? Anything?” She suggests, slightly amused by your reaction

“Yeah, right, advice or kiss me again or something” You start mumbling again

“I would say… Just don’t tilt your head so much. And don’t stress, princess.” She does it again, calls you a name that makes your face red “But to be honest, it was adorable how nervous you were.”

You finally regain your attitude but your voice is still low. You roll your eyes at her “So… Can you kiss me again?”

pics credits on pinterest: ambar, vic

[blckberrie]

A little backstory for why I write in the first place. Just a disclaimer: I'll talk about PTSD, addictions, physical abuse, sexual assault, sewer slide attempts, self-harm, etc. Please don't feel pressured to read my rant if you're uncomfortable with anything I listed.

To give you some info, I'm fourteen and addicted to self-harming. I will say, I don't cut, but I'd rather not say what I do because learning about it made me start doing it. Just remember you are special and even if you don't see it or believe it, people love you.

My writing started after my dad went to jail for, I think, the third time for domestic violence and I started writing my experience with what he put me through. He gave me PTSD and caused me to fear things like yelling, doors slamming/loud noises, and things being thrown near me or at me.

No, he didn't hit me, but he would hit/hurt my loved ones, and I never once heard him apologize and change. After one of the worst days of my life, I started having symptoms of PTSD and to this day, it's the hardest thing I deal with.

I thought the only way I could express my feelings or understand them in some way was to hurt myself, but I would hide it so I didn't cause anything. I still struggle with self-harm, and every day feels harder to get through, but I try my best to do it anyway.

Since the beginning of 7th grade to now, I have tried to OD three times. They weren't bad enough to be hospitalized but rather to make me vomit all day after and feel unreal. Also, I've had my appendix burst maybe 2/3 weeks after my 2nd attempt and I still feel I caused it by trying to OD.

Again, if you ever feel unwanted, I promise you suicide is not the way out. Please dial 988 to call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline if you ever think about doing it.

Something I've also never ever really talked about was the abuse and sexual assault I went through from an old friend I used to have. She would tell me that everything she did, like kissing me or touching me, was okay, and she did it with all her friends.

She'd act like she was dating me and she'd treat me like her girlfriend in secret but avoid me around others and would hide me.

She would threaten to hurt me if I told anyone that we were even friends so I wouldn't say anything for the longest time. She would tell me to go to the bathroom during school and would proceed to kiss and touch me, and if I complained, she'd slap me, punch me, and just say things to hurt me.

I would say that she caused a lot of my fears, and the last time we talked was the last month of 7th grade, she forced herself into my pants and continued to get so angry that I didn't want it and beat the shit out of me.

That time, I fought back and cried to her but she didn't care. The last thing she told me was to kill myself and that she'd never speak to me again. I hate admitting that I had tried the same night making that my first real try.

The next school year, she completely disappeared and I'm assuming she moved. She also blocked me on literally everything and yet I was still too scared to tell anyone.

The reason she kept trying to kiss and touch me was because, most times, I was too tired to stop her, so I'd let her do it. To this day, I haven't tried dating anyone in fear I'd find someone like her again.

I cry at night thinking about my scars, that girl, and my father. I fear myself for what I think when I let everything get to my head. I've tried coping with my problems by drinking and self-harm, and any time I could get my hands on drugs I felt safe doing.

I began writing down my feelings, what I went through, and really anything about myself. I had friends who wanted to read what I wrote and they'd tell me how beautiful it was. (I might share some one day)

I created this blog to write about stuff other than everything I went through and rather about what has helped me cope more safely. For me, this is about Hayden but I also love reading what others write and making friends.

I hope that my blog can help you too, even if it's by reading practical filth or heart-shattering angst. Whatever helps you, helps you and I hate shaming healthy coping methods.

I try to make people laugh and feel better about themselves because I know how it feels to forget what that's like.

I love you and I'm always here if you need to talk to someone.