#i wanted to fix things. YOU made your choice.

[elleaitch22]

Terms of Endearment

Chapter 9: In the Name of Love

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

A/N: Welcome back to the show! This was a little rushed, ngl. Half of it was written when I was dozing off at 5 am and the other half is from when I was dozing off after my pool day. Please live react or leave comments if you can! As always, I hope you love it!! xx Elle

Warnings: Detailed emotional abuse, psychological manipulation, disordered eating, food control, referenced date r*pe, gaslighting, flashbacks, dissociation, panic attacks, referenced murder

Word Count: 3.7k

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Paige didn’t make her talk. She didn’t make her move. She didn’t even make her eat.

Azzi had just stopped crying when Soleil padded into the living room. “I’m hungwy.” She rubbed her eyes, still sleepy. She walked to the couch and nestled herself between the two women. “I want noodles with Azzi.”

Azzi smiled softly, “Wants pho.”

Paige pulled out her phone, tapping her screen, and putting an order in quickly. “It’ll be here in 20 minutes Lei.”

“Azzi still sad?” Soleil’s big blue eyes, full of pity and sadness. When no one gave an answer, she looked to her mother expectantly. “Azzi is sad. We watching Fwozen. S’her favowite.”

Paige followed Soleil’s instructions without question. When “Love is an Open Door” played, Paige was happy to ride down to the lobby to pick up the food. When she returned, Elsa was lecturing Anna about marriage.

The three of them ate their food huddled together. When Soleil finished, she made Azzi lie back before climbing onto her stomach and laying her head on her chest. Azzi’s arms wrapped around her, hands running up and down her back slowly.

Soleil’s breath deepened, warm and soft against Azzi’s chest. She stared at the tv, not really seeing the movie playing.

The room was still. Peaceful. Safe.

“I met Grant when I was 18.” She started quietly. “My best friends, Caroline, Colleen, and I all went to this frat party. I only had a few drinks, but I blacked out.” Azzi is almost reliving it, not even hearing Paige’s sharp gasp. “I woke up at his apartment naked. He came back with waffles, and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so I stayed. I was so mad at myself. He was my first, and I couldn’t believe it was something I couldn’t even remember.”

Paige’s hand covered Azzi’s, breaking her out of her flashback. “That wasn’t your fault, Azzi. He drugged you, and even if he didn’t, drunk people can’t consent. This is all on him.”

Azzi nodded, not really listening to the blonde. “He was so good at first. He treated me like I hung the moon. But it was little things. He chipped away at me until I was exactly what he wanted.” She felt tears welling up in her eyes. “I didn’t even notice the manipulation until it was too late. I wasn’t allowed to eat carbs because it made my face puffy. I had to try on my outfits before I could leave the house, and if he felt like it was too tight, I had to weigh in. If I was too heavy, it was going to be a week of kid’s meals or even meal replacement shakes if it was bad enough.” She shook her head. “He wanted me to be healthy, he just didn’t know how to help me in a healthy way.”

Paige got on the floor and kneeled in front of Azzi. “He wanted to control you Azzi, that’s all. You were already healthy.”

“No, he just wanted me to be healthy. I’m not good at making choices, so he helped me. Sometimes I have trouble remembering things right. I’m probably just twisting his words and making him look bad. He said I used to do that all the time.” Paige brushed a few loose strands out of Azzi’s face, almost wanting her to snap out of it and come back to her.

Azzi’s eyes were glassy, locked on some fixed point beyond Paige. Her voice didn’t match her face — it was too calm, too quiet, like she was reading from a script she’d memorized to survive. Paige froze. She’d seen this kind of dissociation before – she’d seen it in herself. She hated that Azzi was experiencing it too.

Then she started again. “I miss Carol and Colleen. I couldn’t talk to them because they were trouble. They wanted me to wear bad outfits and drink, but Grant didn’t like going out anymore.” Tears slowly fell down her face. “I miss my mom and dad. I miss my brothers. I haven’t seen them in five years.”

She went silent again. Paige was left helpless, just watching the brunette cycle through her thoughts. She was looking at Paige, but her eyes didn’t register the blonde. She wasn’t here – not really.

“I never should’ve left him.” Azzi whispered. “He took such good care of me. He loved me so much, and now I’m all alone.”

Paige got closer, cupping Azzi’s cheeks in her hands. She brought her forehead to Azzi’s, letting it rest there and saying affirmations until she was back. Azzi, you’re safe. You’re okay. You are not alone. You don’t ever have to be alone again. You are good. You are perfect. It’s me, Paige. And Soleil. You have us. You have a family. We want you. We will always want you.

She didn’t know how long she knelt, repeating the same words. But she could tell when Azzi was out of her trance. A gasp, and then more tears. Falling faster, uncontrolled. She tried to keep her cries small and silent with Soleil laying on her.

When Paige tried to move her again, Azzi’s grip tightened once more. “I’m so sorry Paige. I should’ve kept her safe.”

“No, don’t do that, Azzi. You kept her safe. Even when I got there, you were still keeping her safe.” Paige paused, trying to think of what to say next. “You were good, Azzi. You did such a good job protecting Lei.” Azzi let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. “Thank you, Azzi.”

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Paige didn’t move, content to stay on the floor and stroke Azzi’s hair gently. Eventually, Azzi joined Soleil in dreamland.

The blonde bolted to her bedroom. She needed to get out of this suit, and she needed to hit something. She needed to be quick though; she didn’t want Azzi to wake up by herself. After pulling on a pair of basketball shorts and a hoodie, she decided she should probably get something for Azzi to wear too.

She thought back to the pictures Azzi had sent her earlier. She looked so pretty in her yellow dress. She looked happy with Soleil. Paige had been looking forward to getting home and seeing Azzi and Soleil in their matching outfits watching a movie, or working on an artistic masterpiece, or just talking.

But he ruined that.

She didn’t know how to fix it yet, but she knew one thing: he would never control Azzi again. She’d make sure of it.

Paige was hot with anger again.

She yanked open a drawer and pulled out her favorite lilac sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. She grabbed a pair of fuzzy socks and the matching sweatshirt, wanting Azzi to be as comfortable as she wanted.

Paige’s phone flashed with a notification.

Ash 🤠: Found him. Grant Hayes.

Attachment: 1 file

P. Buckets 🏀: Thanks Ash.

When Paige clicked the PDF, she realized she made the right choice in firing Q and promoting Ashlyn. She’d pulled emails, phone records, text messages, social media history, bill information. Everything.

Ash 🤠: Morgan filled me in. Don’t crash out over this. It’s…bad.

P. Buckets 🏀: How did you find him?

Ash 🤠: He’s messy and too cocky. He’s been posting about Azzi since she left him.

Before she let herself start reading the file, Paige pulled the blanket off her bed and walked back out to the living room. She covered Azzi and Soleil and sat next to their heads.

She propped her feet up on the coffee table and got to reading.

After an hour of reading, Paige’s emotions had gone from anger to wrath to fury to rage. Her body was wound tightly with anger. Paige thought the things Azzi had said earlier were bad. But it was nothing compared to the six years of abuse she’d suffered.

He had messages with his father asking ways to make her stay. His dad told him to wake her up to talk the nights before she had class and to start a big fight right before a big exam. She found messages telling his friends what he’d done to trap her. Found messages about the drugs he used the night he met her. Paige found messages where he’d been stalking her, waiting to get a chance with her. He tricked her into getting on his phone plan, then turned her service off. He would change the WIFI password so she couldn’t use any of her apps. There was a lock on the refrigerator and pantry that he only opened when she was cooking for him. She wasn’t even allowed to eat the meals she’d prepared unless he said she could. She had to send him pictures of everything she ate; the portions looked like something a second grader would need. She found hundreds of messages sent to Caroline and Colleen, even a few sent to Azzi’s family.

Then Paige saw his messages to Azzi. Saw every name he ever called her. Said she was dumb and worthless for wanting to be a teacher. He told her she was lucky he was with her because no one else could love someone like her. She forgot to cook one night because she was studying, and he told her she’d be the shittiest wife. She got a bad grade on a child development exam after a night of fighting, and he told her she’d be a terrible mother. It would be child abuse to have a baby with her. He blamed her for all their issues. Blamed it on hormones, her indecisiveness, even her kindness. He would clean it up though. He would buy flowers and chocolate, telling her she couldn’t eat it because she’d gain too much weight. Then he’d say he only did it because he loved her and cared about her.

Paige locked her phone and stared at the blank tv screen. She was angry before. She was angry just by hearing the things Azzi had said.

But now, now she wanted to kill him. She would make what she did to Manny look like child’s play. She needed to hit something; she didn’t want to be this angry in front of Azzi.

She unlocked her phone again, going to the group chat.

God’s Favorites + Kamorea 🍫🍒

P Boogies 🌈🤰🏼🤪: Anybody home?

Muhl Rat 👯‍♀️🤞🏻🇭🇷: almost, but me and N have a date at 7. what’s up?

Baby GOAT 🐐🤣💃🏾: Me. Omw up now.

Jane from the Pyramids 🪡👸🏻🇪🇬: Meeeeeee! Me and Ice are working on Azzi’s spot.

Ice Princess ❄️👑🧚🏽‍♀️: we’re coming up now

Muhl Rat 👯‍♀️🤞🏻🇭🇷: WAIT FOR ME!!!!!

P Boogies 🌈🤰🏼🤪: Actively trying to avoid catching another body.

P Boogies 🌈🤰🏼🤪: Come in quietly. They’re sleeping.

She went to another group chat.

Beauties and the Bucket 👸🏻👸🏽🪣

P Boogies 🌈🤰🏼🤪: Just need y’all to stay with A and Lei til I get back.

P Boogies 🌈🤰🏼🤪: Maybe just turn on Bluey if they wake up. Don’t make her talk

Jana and Ice liked both messages, and Paige went to the last group chat.

Unholy Trinity 😇😈

P Boogies 🌈🤰🏼🤪: Need to smash some shit before I get locked up

P Boogies 🌈🤰🏼🤪: stg no bull

Muhl Rat 👯‍♀️🤞🏻🇭🇷: parking now. can use staging room??

Paige heard the elevator ding, and she stood up quietly, not wanting to risk waking the two. She looked at them and got stuck.

Since she got back home, she hadn’t really taken the chance to look at them. Soleil and Azzi. Together. They looked like everything Paige wanted; something she thought she could never have. She wanted to crawl in next to them and never move again.

That’s how the girls found her. Bent over looking at the nappers with a look of awe on her face.

Nika let out a quiet cough, making Paige straighten up quickly. “You don’t look like you’re about to kill someone.”

Her face darkened again, and she stalked towards the quartet. “Nika, KK, let’s go.”

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The women rode the elevator down to the thirtieth floor. The apartment she chose was perfectly staged. The perfect canvas to ruin.

Paige’s body was wound tight, like a spring ready to explode. She held the door open for Nika and KK. Paige walked past them. She paced the length of the living room, fisting and releasing her hands, rubbing her face and hair with rough movements. Trying to release some of the anger without being too destructive.

Her breath got louder and quicker. She picked up one of the magazines off the coffee table. There was a dull thud when it hit the wall. She knocked a glass off the coffee table, a little tension releasing when it shattered.

Then she exploded.

Couch cushions were ripped. The fruit bowl on the counter was launched at another wall. A dining room chair was used to destroy the glass coffee table before she smashed the chair until it was broken. One of the chair legs was smashed into the oven door and induction cooktop. She used a different one to swing at the refrigerator until it was dented. Lamps were thrown and broken. The common areas destroyed.

Paige paused to look around the room. She felt a little better, but when she looked back at the kitchen, she remembered.

He told her she needed to lose weight. She was fucking perfect. She cooked for that bitch, and he didn’t even let her eat. And she thought he loved her, that she was lucky to be with him.

Her temper flared again.

She yanked the broken oven handle off the door and headed for the bathroom. The glass shower doors were her next victim. The sound of the glass showering down was cathartic. The toilet took a little longer to break, but Paige was persistent. She went to the sink, gripping the sides tightly. Her breath was ragged. She couldn’t calm down; she was so angry. She wanted to punch the mirror, but she knew it would cut her hand up, and she didn’t want to scare Azzi with her violence.

She tugged off her hoodie and wrapped her hand and struck. Her destruction started again. Mirrors, walls, doors. All of them fell victim to her fists and kicks.

Paige ended up back in the living room. Azzi didn’t deserve any of that. I have to fix it.

She fell to her knees next to the glass from the coffee table.

Nika moved first. She squatted beside Paige, making sure to miss the debris. “Come on, let’s sit.”

Somehow, Paige had missed one of the armchairs and two dining room seats.

The blonde glared at her little sister, “Did you know what he did to her?”

KK’s eyes widened, “She didn’t tell us anything outside of him being too controlling. Not letting her make decisions, stuff like that. What happened?” She asked warily.

Paige didn’t know what she could have told them without it crossing boundaries. “Her ex was outside the building today. Sent her into a spiral.”

The other two women tensed. “Did he do something to her?” Nika questioned.

“Not today, but I had Ash look into him. He was awful to her.” She sighed. “No one fought for her. She was all alone. Even when she got to Chicago, she was by herself.”

KK was hesitant, but she wrapped her arm around Paige’s shoulders and pulled her close. “Yeah, but she has us now. She’s going to be okay.”

“Paige, she’s seemed okay, and I think a big part of that is you and Soleil.” Nika added. “What do you want to do? I know you wanna help her, and we can help you.”

Paige ran her hands over her face. “I want to murder him.” She breathes out harshly. “I don’t know. I know she doesn’t feel safe. She feels like she fucked up. I don’t know how to help her.”

“Maybe you can just feel her out, see what she needs and do that.” KK suggested.

Paige nodded, “Yeah. Maybe that’ll be good enough. I want her to be happy.”

Nika put a hand on Paige’s leg. “You’re showing up, P. That’s more than anyone’s done for her in a while.”

“I don’t want her to feel like she’s broken.” Paige whispered, jaw clenched.

“Well make sure she isn’t.”

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Azzi wakes up to a knee in her stomach and a hand in her face. Soleil.

For a second, she doesn’t remember what happened earlier. She remembered the amazing day she’d been having with Soleil, then Grant’s face popped into her head, and she stiffened.

Soleil’s head popped up from Azzi’s neck, smile already stretched across her cute little face. “Mownin’ Azzi!”

“Good morning, Princess.” Azzi smiled, voice raspy with sleep.

Jana’s face entered Azzi’s field of view. “Hey girl! Paige left some clothes out for you to wear so you don’t have to stay in that dress.” She rubbed Soleil’s head, “Come on Lei, let’s go change.”

Azzi wandered back to Paige’s bedroom. Her bedroom wasn’t dark and sleek like Azzi had expected it to be. It was neutral and calm; Ice had done a good job in here.

On the top of her dresser was a lavender sweatsuit. The fabric was soft, like it’d been worn a million times. She pulled the dress over her head, pulling the clothes on quickly.

She was enveloped in the smell of Paige Bueckers. The smell was crisp and a little citrusy with a hint of sandalwood, vanilla, and spice. It was intoxicating.

Azzi smiled at the fuzzy socks Paige had left her. The whole outfit felt like a hug.

She strolled out to the living room, pulling the blanket from before around her. It smelled like pear and white pepper; sweet and warm all at once.

She was waiting for Soleil to come back out when the elevator dings.

Azzi’s whole body froze. He was here.

She didn’t move until a blonde head peeked around the corner. Then, she was able to breathe again.

“Oh. You’re up!” Paige started, surprised. “Did you have a good nap?”

Azzi’s head tilted a bit. Was Paige mad that she slept over here? She remembered Paige saying something to her before she went to sleep. Maybe Paige really was mad about Azzi risking Soleil’s safety.

She looked at the floor, tracing the patterns in the wood with her eyes. She nodded, too afraid to see the look of disappointment or irritation on Paige’s face.

“Good. I’m happy you were able to rest.”

Azzi’s head shot up. Brows furrowed, “You wanted me to sleep?”

“Yeah,” Paige started, walking towards the couch. “You had a rough afternoon.”

The soft look in Paige’s eyes was disarming. Azzi nodded again, still a little confused. “I was gonna chill for the rest of the day. Was thinking we could talk about the school tour, then just hang out over here. Everybody else came over an hour ago, so we’d just be vibing with the family.”

Azzi was thankful for the clear direction and path the rest of the day would take. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to make more decisions.

Soleil walked into the living room halfway through the conversation about Four Oaks. Her blue eyes moved between both women before she decided to sprawl out across them both: head in Azzi’s lap and legs on Paige’s.

She told her mom how much she liked the school, but how she still wanted Azzi to be her teacher.

“Would you like it if you went to school for the morning, then finished school with Azzi in the afternoon?” Paige suggested, looking to Azzi with her brows raised.

Soleil’s head popped up at the idea. “That’s pewfect! I get new fwiends, and I get to keep Azzi!”

“Is that okay with you, Azzi?” Paige questions. “It’ll give you more time to figure out what you want to do for work.”

Azzi nodded quickly. “Yes! That sounds perfect. No more money though.”

Soleil, satisfied with the outcome of the conversation, decided now would be the perfect time for a dance party. She rounded up the other ladies and made them all stand in the living room.

Paige pulled up Just Dance 2 on YouTube and smiled while Soleil and KK stole the show.

The rest of the day is light. Full of laughter and love. It was the most relaxed Azzi had been in a while.

Everyone sat in the dining nook to have pizza. Soleil claimed Azzi’s lap as her throne since they are “gluten fwee besties” and Azzi wouldn’t have it any other way.

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Azzi was back on the couch wrapped in the same blanket once everyone has left and Soleil has been put to sleep.

Paige sat next to her quietly, eyes glued to the muted television.

“He makes me feel broken.” Azzi whispers. “I thought I was over it, but I’m just as weak and broken as I was the day I left him.”

Paige moves a little closer, “Why do you feel like you’re broken or weak?”

“I feel like I should be over it by now. I’ve been away from him for two years, and all he had to do was look at me and I fell apart.”

“But you got away from him, Azzi. That makes you strong. A lot of people never get out.” Paige ducked her head to make sure Azzi was listening.

Azzi pulled her knees to her chest, laying her head on them to look at Paige. “I know a lot of the stuff he said isn’t true, but I don’t know the difference anymore.”

“Well stay, don’t run. I can show you. Soleil can show you. We will all show you what love looks like. Let me help you, please.” Paige’s heart cracked a little at the tears in Azzi’s eyes.

“I’m scared. I don’t know how.” Azzi whimpered.

Paige’s heart broke a little more. And she started to plan. She would do whatever she needed to make Azzi feel like the most loved woman she knew.

Paige draped on arm around Azzi’s shoulders and let the other come up to hold her face. “I’ll teach you, Az. I’ll show you. You just have to let me.” She wiped a tear as Azzi gave a single nod. “You don’t ever have to be alone again, Azzi. You’re not alone. I got you.”

[belit0]

Thinking about Hs Yan Obito and his gf 👀. I think the other people at the school would be shocked that an Uchiha has stuck to one girl so long with the way the other Uchiha’s run through girls lol. While Obito isn’t like the most popular/wanted Uchiha (like I bet everyone had crushes on Madara and also Izuna bc he’s a flirt) it would still cause people to be jealous but like not specifically of wanting Obi like y/n being with and Uchiha and everyone telling her she’s so lucky to catch one. Poor reader like “yeah I’m lucky” when she has no choice in leaving the relationship lol

Obito, for me, is the worst of the 5

It started with a kiss. Sweet. Hesitant.

The kind of kiss that makes you think maybe, just maybe, he’s different.

But now she can’t remember what that first kiss tasted like.

Not under the weight of what came after—Obito’s arm constantly draped over her shoulder like a chain disguised as affection, his hand sliding into her back pocket in the halls like she was his property. His voice, warm as honey, whispering things that should have sounded romantic, but never did.

She tried to end it a second time, after he showed up in her bedroom.

(Y/N) waited until the final bell, when he was finishing a cigarette with Shisui and Izuna. Madara was slouched against the wall, quiet, mean-eyed. Indra stood a little off to the side, unbothered, lighting a match just to watch it burn.

She pulled Obito aside, her heart pounding.

-I can’t do this anymore,- she’d said. -I don’t feel the same. I need space, real space.-

Obito blinked. Just once. And smiled.

And that’s when she realized what she’d just triggered.

Shisui tilted his head, grin stretching slow, venomous.

-She’s cute when she’s confused.

Izuna laughed. -She still thinks she gets to walk away... Thought we made it clear—he’s not just your boyfriend. He’s family. And we don’t let family get abandoned.-

She looked around.

Madara wasn’t laughing. He was watching her like a wolf watches something fragile.

Indra didn’t speak, just crushed the match between his fingers and dropped it on the concrete.

And Obito, still smiling, leaned in and whispered, -You don’t really mean that, do you? You’re just tired, again. Stressed. Maybe someone’s been putting shit in your head? Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll fix it.-

He kissed her temple. His fingers brushed her neck.

She felt like she was falling into a hole no one would ever dig her out of.

Now, weeks later, the whole school thinks she’s the luckiest girl alive.

The girl who got an Uchiha to stay.

She hears it in the whispers in the bathrooms, in the jealous stares when she passes hand-in-hand with Obito down the hallway.

Other girls look at her like she won a lottery they’d all been bleeding to enter.

They don’t understand.

It’s not Obito they envy.

It’s the status. The badge.

No one in school has ever made any of them commit—not Indra, not Madara, not Shisui, definitely not Izuna.

They fuck and disappear. They destroy girls for sport. They walk through relationships like they’re made of tissue paper, never once slowing down.

But Obito? He’s obsessed.

And somehow that obsession makes her a legend.

No one sees the way her smile twitches when he pulls her into his lap in the cafeteria. No one notices how tight his grip gets on her wrist when she’s too slow to answer him. No one hears what he says when she doesn’t text back fast enough.

-He loves you so much,- her friends say, eyes wide with envy.

She smiles. Nods. Plays the part.

Because no one would believe her if she told the truth.

No one would believe that he checks her location twenty times a day. That he reads her DMs before she does. That he warned her once, in a voice low and kind, that if she ever lied to him again, he’d make sure no one else could ever have her.

No one would believe that she wakes up some mornings and doesn’t recognize herself in the mirror anymore. That every day feels like another performance. Another test. Another slow suffocation in a golden cage.

But still—she smiles.

She sits beside him in class, fingers laced with his, heartbeat steady through practiced control. She lets him tuck her hair behind her ear, kiss her cheek, hold her like she’s something to protect.

Even though she knows the truth.

She’s not his girlfriend.

She’s his hostage.

And the scariest part?

She’s starting to forget what freedom felt like.

[mer-acle]

Silent Wars - Headcanon Time

Pt I don't fucking know lol, but there are 80 in total now XD I meant to put the last 10 but somehow it turned out to be 11

Find the rest of the hcs in the lore document

When Athena was younger, Hera gifted her a necklace for one of her birthdays made from relatively soft silver. Now what the traumatized and neurodivergent kid would have also needed was a stress/fidget toy but where would be the joy in being undiagnosed then? So Athena ended up chewing on the necklace a lot out of both stress and boredom and it ended up pretty dented and nicked by her teeth. She was very scared Hera would hate her for ruining the gift which obviously she did not... she didn’t even get particularly scolded bc she was straight-up sobbing about it.

Hephaestus designed up his family as gods in a fantasy game, (they curiously end up having very specific skillsets that we are very familiar with, yes Athena said "Gods I need this Quick Thought thing so bad")

Ares' hair is long because Hera used to braid Athena's hair and he felt left out so he grew it out to braiding length and has just kinda stuck with it since.

Ares has a sweater from Athena's college because they got one for free and she ordered one in his size instead of hers. As long as he could, he also wore her school sweaters.

Athena definitely misses the little table pillow fort she had when she was younger but she’s a “reasonable adult now, Ares and also I don’t have enough space here.” (get this girl a cave ffs)

Aphrodite is an absolute musical buff and initiated the siblings into that world as well. Athena got won over by Phantom of the Opera. Ares is mainly smitten about his girlfriend singing along.

One Friday when Athena was about 15, the bus from the boarding school got canceled and Athena knew nobody could pick her up that day so she’d have to stay at school over the weekend. Which she decided would not do and walked the 12 miles home instead. That was probably the angriest Hera ever was at her, woman was worried sick because she was over an hour late, and her baby could have been hurt or kidnapped on some back road and nobody would have known where she was.

Athena actually never calls Hera “my mother” when talking about her, that feels inaccurate to her, so even in more impersonal settings if it comes up, she talks about “my Mom” (which seems very counterintuitive for people bc she speaks more distantly otherwise (Zeus is “my father”, it’s “My younger brother” not “my baby brother” for Ares and Heph) but my girl is just avoiding “my stepmother” by any means necessary without “lying”. Her impostor syndrome is out of this world).

Heph calls Metis “Athena’s other mom” even though he doesn’t have reason to talk about her much. When Hera told him, he just wanted to know if Athena still loved him the same and when Athena told him that of course she did, that was the extent of his emotional reaction to that. He started hating the evil stepmother in Cinderella a lot more though because “she could have just been her other mom, she didn’t have to be mean to her! 🤨” (Hera look at you, you fixed the stereotype all on your own for the little guy)

Zeus actually wanted Hera to adopt Athena way earlier than she ended up doing (Athena was formally adopted at age 8, roughly three years after Metis died) but Hera wanted to make sure it was what Athena wanted and was emotionally ready for. She had power of attorney until then which basically means she was authorized for making daily care choices (like signing permission slips, picking her up, doctor’s appointments etc) for Athena while Zeus has the power to make the bigger choices (*cough* boarding school) [Take legal information with a grain of salt i have no idea]

Hera and her sisters were all adopted by Oceanos and Thetys (surname Mercer as a reference to the sea (mer in Latin)). Hestia is the oldest, Demeter the middle, and Hera the youngest, they all moved in between the ages of 0-3 over the span of seven years, Hera was just an infant when she came to them, her parentage is unknown. She had a phase as a kid where she loved “Annie” and did make up stories about her birth parents. She struggled with the concept of not being wanted, but Thetys telling her that while her biological parents may not have chosen her, they did choose her, really helped. She explains it very similarly to Hephaestus decades later, that he and Ares were her chosen children when she gave birth to them, and Athena is her chosen child because she decided to take care of her, and that makes the love equal and just as valuable.

pls let me feast on your thoughts i am lonely /silly but do talk to me pls

Also, one of these hcs is directly based on my own life, have fun guessing which one ;) (by "which "based on" i mean it's not even projection, this literally happened)

[partiallysame]

little does he know you’re freaking out about the same thing. bc all of your tattoos have some sort of meaning so what happens when you’ve gotten them all? you don’t want to get tattoos just for the sake of seeing simon (no shade to ppl who do! different strokes for different folks 😊🙂‍↕️) but you guys did meet bc of tattoos and your conversations are always fun and engaging but that doesn’t necessarily mean he wants to see you outside of tattooing you maybe he’s just being professional and and and…and you’re spiraling.

and so is simon bc goddamnit socializing and flirting are johnny and kyle’s thing not his. price keeps telling him if ever needs anything just ask but he’s quite sure this isn’t what price had in mind when he offered (it is) and the captain isn’t as slick as he thinks he is bc simon knows he’s the mastermind behind all of these shenanigans. but fuck he really wants to keep seeing you so it’s looking like he has no choice but to tuck tail and ask them for help. fuck it all he’s going to have to make peace with the fact that the 141 will NEVER let simon hear the end of this. sigh…you’re worth it though so simon will just suffer through it

*cue operation bag the bonnie*

three guesses as to who came up with the mission name 🤪

(also ppl really do sleep on the fact that price is a quiet behind the scenes tactical menace and i will die on that hill)

I just know that Simon walks in to the Not So Secret meeting they are having and they’re rushing to turn off the PowerPoint and hide the notes. He mumbles asking for help and they all know what he said but they will be making him say it loud and not so proud. But instead of actually asking he’s like “so what’s the plan” have a seat Riley we made copies for you.

He informs them that you are coming in tomorrow bc you forgot your wallet (Simon took it out of your purse and hid it for this exact reason) and Price is like ‘that’s my boy’. Johnny and Simon are on flirting duty while Kyle may or may not be putting tracking on your car. Price is setting up surveillance on your house since now they have your address. Simon made copies of your ID.

So you show up and everything is going to plan. Johnny has you giggling and Simon’s even been the cause of your laughter a few times. (Kyle changes your oil while he’s placing the tracker under your car bc god damn girl when was the last time you had this done. He will be putting that on the list of things they can do for you to keep you coming to them). Everything is going so smooth but then your demeanor changes a little and Simon and Johnny are panicking bc why did you just get nervous. But then you tumble out a “Simon would you like to grab drinks sometime” and immediately follow it with apologies if that’s inappropriate to ask and it’s ok if he doesn’t want to. Johnny is running in circles behind you celebrating and Simon is sure he’s having a heart attack. But then Johnny notices that Simon has not answered yet. He’s just staring at you. So he’s behind you waving his hands to get him to say something and Price is screaming in the comms in his ear and finally Simon nods. And Johnny chimes in that Simon would love to you’ve just got him all shy at the moment. You leave and meet Kyle in the hallway and the gentleman he is walks you to your car and oh so casually mentions he knows how to fix cars. (He changed your oil and then back tracked and put a hole in it so you’d need help).

Missions success boys

[bluecagez]

Still here ۶ৎ

꒰ Beom-seok x Reader ꒱ ⠀

| comfort, slight angst, canon compliant !gn

~scenario: at the airport when beom-seok is about to leave for his flight !

~wc: 558!

The airport was buzzing, too loud for how quiet and empty Beom-seok felt inside.

He stood near the gate, shoulders hunched, eyes flicking between the departure screen and the polished floor. His suitcase sat next to him, untouched, like even the suitcase wasn’t sure he should go.

He hadn’t expected anyone to come.

So when you appeared, walking toward him with steady steps, it took him a second to believe you were real.

“…y/n?” he said, voice small.

you stopped a few feet away. your expression was unreadable. Calm, maybe. Tired. But not angry.

“You weren’t going to say goodbye?” you asked.

Beom-seok dropped his eyes. “Didn’t think I deserved to.”

you didn’t answer right away. The silence made the sound of boarding calls and rolling luggage feel louder.

“You’re probably right,” you said at last. “You did a lot of damage, Beom-seok.

He flinched. But he didn’t look surprised.

“I didn’t come to excuse it,” you continued. “I just… couldn’t let you leave without saying something.”

He finally looked up, eyes rimmed red. “Then say it.”

you stepped closer. “You hurt people who trusted you. You let your feelings fester and rot instead of talking about them. You lashed out because it felt easier than being left behind.”

Beom-seok’s hands clenched at his sides and he felt his heart tighten. “I know.”

“I know you know,” you said. “But knowing doesn’t undo it.”

He nodded, barely.

A pause. Then, quieter: “I never meant for things to go that far. I just wanted—” His voice caught. “I wanted to be seen. Not as a burden or a weakling. Just… as someone who mattered.”

Your expression slightly softened, but not with pity. More like recognition and understanding.

“You do matter, you always have….” you trailed off. “But not because of how much pain you carry. And not because of who you hurt.”

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” Beom-seok whispered. “All I know is I don’t want to be this. Whatever I’ve turned into. This cruel monster who ruined everything, hurt everyone around me…”

Another tense silence followed… then a small sigh escaped your lips. You tried to offer a small understanding smile.

“That’s something,” you said. “It doesn’t fix anything. But it means you’re not past the point of trying.”

He looked at you — like really looked, as if searching for signs that you were lying. That this was just another trick of kindness that would slip away.

“Why are you even here?” he asked. “After everything?”

You shrugged lightly. “Because I don’t believe in throwing people away. You still have a choice, Beom-seok. And if you’re willing to do the work — to face what you did and what you’ve been through — I’ll be around. Not to fix you. Just to walk with you while you figure it out.”

He blinked hard. Swallowed. “You’re not going to pretend I didn’t ruin everything?”

“No,” you said. “But I’m not going to pretend you’re beyond saving either.”

The final boarding call rang out over the speakers.

Beom-seok reached for his suitcase, hesitating.

You stepped aside slightly, not blocking him, not urging him forward either. Just… there.

He gave you a look — uncertain, raw. “Will you really answer if I call?”

“Yeah,” you said, simply. “Every time.”

A breath, shaky but whole, escaped his chest. He gave a small nod, then turned toward the gate.

And for the first time in a long time, Beom-seok moved not because he was running from what he’d done — but because someone reminded him he could still try to be better.

little ramble

waaa I love beom-seok smmmm I know most people hate him for what he did, and yeah, I get it—but I can’t help but relate to him in some way. he’s such a complex character, and if you really take his past into account—the way he grew up, the way he was treated—it starts to make a bit more sense💔. I’m not saying what he did was okay, because it wasn’t, but still… ughhhh poor boy needs to be taught proper communication skills, it’s something he hadn’t developed I feel 😭 anyway maybe it’s partly because I adore his actor, but beyond that, my shayla just needs comfort. (maybe I’m projecting a little in this fic, but yknow what? we ball.) anyway, i hope you enjoyed! <3

edit: 😞 the voices are telling me to rewrite it so I might…

[volpeenthusiast]

filling in ⚾︎ m. fried

max cements himself into your daughter's life on an early morning. everybody cheer for domestic dad max fried

Your apartment is bright as the mid-morning sun filters in through the windows, your back to the stove as you cut up fresh fruit for your daughter.

You'd checked on her after you slipped out of bed, seeing her peacefully asleep in her bed. Max was still asleep in yours, and the domesticity of it all made your heart warm.

You and your daughter, Elodie, had had a late night watching the game at Yankee Stadium last night for one reason and one reason only: Max was pitching.

When you first started dating Max, you'd been hesitant to let him into your life. Not because you didn't trust or care about him, but because of Elodie. Introducing her to your boyfriend who you weren't sure would stick around didn't seem like the best choice for her or you.

Her dad had never been in the picture, and false hope was the last thing you needed to expose your girl to. When you'd admitted that to Max, he made a promise not to rush you into doing anything you didn't want. So you started off slow. Before the season started, you and Max took her everywhere together. The park, the movies, even daycare if you two wanted a getaway. You introduced Max to her as a friend, and your incredibly perceptive daughter agreed, likely to placate you.

When you felt like the time was right, you gently explained to Elodie that Max was more than a friend. She'd understood, and immediately began on a family portrait of the three of you that was still hanging on your fridge.

Max stayed over more frequently, and your anxieties were quelled by how good he was with her. He watched YouTube videos to learn how to do her hair, bought her souvenirs when he went away, and did everything that a dad should.

For the first time since Elodie was born, you felt like you were finally able to give her a life that was somewhat normal. You and Max had talked about it one night- him being her dad.

"I don't want to force her to call me anything," he'd said, and you'd nodded in agreement. "I love her, you know that. But I'm not her dad if she doesn't want me to be."

Your heart had broken a little at his admission, but you understood where he was coming from too. Elodie had settled on calling him "Maxie" instead of "daddy," and you both agreed that it was perfect for now.

Your attention is pulled away from the strawberries you're slicing when you hear footsteps entering the kitchen. You grin at the scene in front of you: a very obviously sleepy Max, holding Elodie on his hip as she yawns. Your heart jumps with fondness when you see their matching sleepy expressions and messy hair.

If you didn't know any better, you'd think she was his.

"Did you wake Maxie up?" you laugh, pressing a kiss to Elodie's forehead as her eyes fix on the bowl of fruit. You follow her gaze, then look towards Max.

"How do pancakes sound?"

You sit Elodie at the kitchen island, letting her eat the fruit as you and Max make the pancake mix and heat up a skillet on the stove. You pour little pancakes for Elodie first, smiling at Max as leans into you.

Some naive part of you hopes it's like this all the time. Max at your side as you cook breakfast, Elodie telling the two of you about her day, and a little New York apartment filled with enough love for the rest of the city.

Elodie murmurs something, her little hands smacking against the kitchen island. You look over your shoulder as Max flips a pancake, raising a brow. "What'd you say, baby?"

Elodie huffs as you turn back towards the stove, smacking her hands against the granite harder. "Daddy."

You don't say anything at first, padding to the fridge to retrieve orange juice to offer to Elodie. You spare a glance at her, pausing when you see how distressed she looks.

"Daddy?" she repeats, leaning forward in her chair. You glance between her and Max, and it suddenly clicks.

"Maxie?" you ask, pointing to your boyfriend who's attempting to make heart-shaped pancakes, and Elodie nods.

"Daddy!"

Max finally turns, spatula in hand, gaze softening when he sees Elodie's waiting expression. He smiles, something sweet and proud, and you think you see a shine in his eyes.

"Me? You talking to me, El?" he asks, and Elodie nods. Strawberry sticky hands reach out for Max, but he picks her up all the same. You bite your lip to try and stave off your own tears as Max tucks her against his chest.

Elodie's eyes focus on the pancakes, and her legs kick excitedly. "Lemme try?"

Max offers her one of the only completed pancakes, which she munches on happily. You move to stand at his side as he discreetly swipes at a tear tracking down his cheek.

You smile softly, squeezing Max's shoulder as he smiles at you like you're the only person on earth, brushing Elodie's loose hair out of her eyes.

-

robin's notes: can u guys tell i have a soft spot for kids based on my last few fics.... laugh out loud. anyways max fried is pookie and he pitched SO well today

[peachycheekz]

Come What May Creator's Challenge #9

May 17th, meadow/match

a/n: happy Sunday my loves. :> Had to take a break from writing this because I got too drunk watching the ESC yesterday. Unfortunately Germany actually getting some points this year ruined my bingo but good for us, I guess. Still hated the song. CW: Attempted sexual assault, mentions of blood WC: 3.6k

read on ao3 previous, next

Mismatched

You weren't surprised that this day sucked.

It was Thursday; those always sucked. Your unlucky day. Although most times the shit you had to deal with was confined to coffee running out when you craved a cup or the milk in the fridge having turned sour because someone hadn't bothered to screw the cap on properly again.

Generally your days always took a turn for the worse when you saw the metal-armed douchebag, but it was particularly bad on Thursdays.

So when you were called into the mission briefing room on your most hated day of the week, you could already guess whatever it was Steve would put you on, it would be calamitous. The unsettling feeling in your gut only intensified when you spotted Barnes in the room. Just Barnes. Well, and Steve.

Seemed about right. Fuck Thursdays.

"Nice of you to finally join us, sweetheart." You wanted to murder him. You wanted to slap that smirk off his lips without first remembering how they had felt on your skin. One drink too many at last year's Christmas party and it turned out drunk you didn't think him half as insufferable as sober you.

Cue an endless pool of possibilities to hold it over your head. Like he had been sober when he'd stumbled the both of you back to his room.

You rolled your eyes, not giving him any more attention than absolutely necessary and picked a place at the table that was out of strangling distance. For his safety.

"What am I doing here exactly?" You aimed the question at Steve, who slid a file your way. The same one Bucky was holding apparently. You didn't like where this was going.

"We've come across a little…uh…logistical issue." Steve rubbed the back of his neck, Barnes tried to stifle a laugh. "I know you've resigned yourself to desk duty, but we really need your help on this. Nat was supposed to do it but she's stuck somewhere in Iceland with Clint."

Resigned yourself to desk duty. You bristled at the choice of words. Although not untrue, it still stung to hear it put so bluntly. Your shoulders straightened, chin raised in false confidence. Beneath the table your hand balled into a fist atop your right thigh. The one that gave your walk a slight limp. The one that made sitting too long painful in your hips and participating in active field action impossible.

The one that no amount of surgery or Stark tech could fix because of that one infinitesimal splinter of a Chitauri weapon lodged just a tad bit too close to a main artery.

"If it requires me to be anywhere but in a chair in my office I can't help." The words left a sour taste in your mouth. It surprised you Bucky didn't have something undoubtedly biting to say to that. He was usually quick to point out anything he thought you lacked in.

"It would just require you to wear a dress and look pretty. For, like, two hours max."

You waited for the other shoe to drop, for Steve to break out laughing because this was obviously supposed to be a joke, but his face stayed perfectly serious.

"Your shitting me. Right? Steve?"

"Christ, just say yes. Don't got all day." Ah, so he did speak. His eyes bored into the side of your head with an intensity that reminded you of things you'd rather forget so you kept refusing to look at him.

"No," you said stubbornly, if only to spite him. "I'm not cleared and even if I was I would sooner dive head first out of a plane without a chute than go on a mission with that guy."

"Hey!" You were pleased to hear he sounded actually offended.

"Please just look at the file first? I understand your concerns but can you just…just take a look, okay?" You sighed, defeated. Steve was hard to deny when he got like that. All doe-eyed and making you feel like you were their last hope, when you very well knew there was an arsenal of better equipped — and not crippled — agents to choose from.

But, unfortunately, you also knew Barnes got his panties in a twist when he had to do missions with people he didn't know.

The mission outline was pretty standard stuff. One target, one distraction, one to take the shot. The target's identity however-

Your eyebrows shot up and when your gaze slid to Bucky without your permission you knew you'd agree anyway. He was looking back at you like he already knew you'd change your mind once you knew the guy was one of the people who had worked closely with Rumlow. A scientist.

You may not be on the best of terms with the ex-assassin but if your involvement would help take down Hydra scum you were in.

Already regretting your decision you pinched the bridge of your nose. "Fine. I'll get a dress."

Even with a fucked up leg you could manage a couple hours of buttering up some weirdo so Bucky could put a bullet through his head. Hopefully.

Thankfully, the day of the mission was not a Thursday. You still had hope that Nat would make it back in time before Saturday rolled around but she didn't, so you made a last minute effort to make yourself look presentable, slipped on the pair of heels that came closest to comfortable and stomped down to the garage where Bucky and Steve were already waiting.

Even though you've made peace with your injury years ago the dress you wore made you feel far to exposed, the limp in your step had you feeling insecure and even though you knew the scars from surgery and the incident itself were barely visible on your thigh, the way you kept the slit up the side of the floor-length gown closed with one hand made it clear you were uncomfortable.

If Barnes would just quit staring at you like that.

"What?" you snapped at him in lieu of a greeting. He cleared his throat, averted his eyes, sneaked another glance. Steve unsuccessfully hid his amusement behind a cough.

"Ready?" The Captain handed you your in-ear communication device which you put in place with practised ease. "As I'll ever be. The sooner I'll get back to the monstrous pile of paperwork on my desk the better."

You slipped into the passenger seat of the sleek, black car and waited for the guys to finish their overly dramatic goodbye. Finally Bucky stashed the bag with his sniper in the trunk. The driver's side door slammed closed, silence almost drowned out the sound of the engine roaring to life.

"Don't crash the car, Barnes."

"Oh, how inconsiderate of me. Would you rather like to drive?"

Ouch.

You huffed, folding your arms over your chest. If you could you would. And he knew that.

The next few hours were going to be just delectable.

You were just starting to appreciate the quiet after driving for quite a while when Bucky had to go ahead and ruin that for you. Because of course he had to. Just not in a way you had expected.

"So you and Dave, huh?"

Your head whipped around faster than your brain caught up with why he was choosing that to talk about with you. "Excuse me?" His eyes were trained on the street in front of him but his knuckles whitened like he intended to strangle the steering wheel. The only indication there must be more behind his question. You tried not to think too hard on it.

"Dave," Bucky repeated, brows drawing together. "In the office across from yours, I thought you were…nevermind." His eyes briefly caught on yours, saw the lack of understanding, the confusion. He quickly looked away, bit his lip. Like he was internally reprimanding himself for having said anything in the first place. "Forget I said anything."

How he even knew Dave's office was the room across the hall was beyond you. As far as you knew Bucky's never been on your floor.

"No, please do elaborate. What about me and Dave?"

"I said forget it." His lips pressed into a thin line and you knew better than to push it.

He kept his mouth shut the rest of the way to the venue but now that the words, the insinuation behind them, was out there your head was swimming with thoughts that had no business occupying any space in your mind right before a mission.

Thoughts that were dangerous considering the fact that beyond that one night he's made it perfectly clear he wasn't interested in you in any way.

You only noticed the car was parked when the passenger's door opened to an impatient looking Bucky, duffel bag slung over one shoulder. "Today, if the lady pleases."

"Oh, fuck off." You muttered and tried to hide your embarrassment about the way you got out of the car behind a mask of irritation you feared wasn't entirely genuine. Surprisingly, he didn't comment when you stumbled, dragging your right leg the first few steps.

His hand twitched at his side and for one quick moment you thought he was going to reach out and steady you and you hated that you were disappointed he didn't. And you despised that he was matching his pace to yours and taking the side of the road on the sidewalk so you didn't risk stumbling into traffic. Not that you would have, but still.

Your paths separated a few blocks further down the road. You'd enter the fancy fake-charity event across the street while Bucky would take the roof of the building opposite and wait for a clear enough shot.

You rolled your shoulders, nerves finally catching up to you. It's been a while since you've done something like this. The job assigned to you was easy enough. Get Rumlow's scientist friend's attention, get him to follow you a floor up, preferably in front of a window. Bucky'd handle the rest.

"Hey." He bumped your shoulder with his, getting your attention. "Be careful." Something alarmingly similar to worry resonated in his voice and you managed a dry scoff. "Sure."

"I mean it." All the mockery had left his tone, there was only steely seriousness and something you didn't dare identify. "Be careful."

You allowed yourself to meet his gaze and wished you hadn't. You've always had a weakness for his eyes and the way he hid all the things he couldn't say out loud behind a sheen of blue ice. "Fine," you said, much softer. "Just make sure you don't accidentally shoot me."

"It wouldn't be an accident." Before you turned to go you caught the faintest hint of a smile ghosting around the corners of his mouth and were glad he couldn't see your own lips curling up.

The air inside was stuffy and thick with the smell of pretentiousness. You had barely taken a step through the huge, elegantly ornate double doors that you heard Bucky's voice in your ear, low and slightly raspy. "You're leaving my field vision now. Be upstairs in thirty or I'm coming in myself."

It shouldn't have had the effect on you that it did and you quickly swept a flute of champagne off of a tray from a waiter that was making his way through the crowd to wash away the memory of other things he'd said to you in that voice. In that tone. You suppressed a shiver.

Not the time, not the place.

You moved slowly, just enough to give your hips a nice sway but not enough to pronounce your off-balance gait.

"You see him yet?"

"Geez, Barnes," you whispered quietly, turning to the side so no one would see you talking to yourself, "give me a damn minute." He grumbled something unintelligible and the line went silent again.

He was probably just eager to pull the trigger.

It took two rounds around the main hall, filled to the brim with people in suits worth more than your entire wardrobe and dresses studded with gems some would kill for, but you found the guy. Huddled smack in the middle of the room, circled by a bunch of men you'd bet your next pay check on were also Hydra.

There went your hopes of getting him alone.

Plan B it is then.

You got a glass of red wine at the bar and mentally apologised to Wanda for ruining the dress she'd lent you. Try getting wine stains out of anything.

"What are you doing? Now's not the time for drinking."

"I thought I was out of your line of sight?" Your eyes scanned the room suspiciously. Surely he hadn't abandoned his post this fast. Did he really have so little trust in you?

The earpiece crackled with something similar to a huff, then it went silent again. You wished rolling your eyes made a noise.

Shaking your head subtly you did your best to look as drunk as possible and stumbled your way through the crowd. Luck was on your side, the target was moving your way. You tripped over nothing, bumping into his chest, wine spilling down your chest, on his suit.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" you gasped, slurring your words. Anger flashed across his features and for a moment you were scared this might not work but then his eyes caught on your cleavage and the metaphorical lightbulb in his peanut brain seemed to catch a spark. "Now, now, don't you worry, dear." You never knew a smile could be so repulsive. You tried not to look too disgusted when he plucked the glass from your hands and snaked an arm around your waist, too low and entirely too handsy. "Maybe lay off the wine, huh?"

You forced yourself to giggle along and leaned into him. "I'm really sorry," you repeated, "I was totally not looking where I was going! And now I've ruined such a fine suit." Clumsily you adjusted his tie, hand lingering on his chest. Even a bath in straight bleach wouldn't be enough to make you feel clean after this.

At least he was taking the bait.

"Don't you worry your pretty head about my suit but why don't we go and see if we can save that dress of yours?" He didn't even leave you time to answer just dragged you along with him. All the fake staggering was giving your leg a hard time and you had no choice but put some of your weight on him, which he wholly misunderstood and apparently took as an invitation to let the hand around your waist wander to places it shouldn't be.

Thank God this guy would be dead in a couple moments. If Bucky didn't change plans last minute that was.

How you had managed to take the stairs without making your condition too obvious was a miracle but you made it, somehow. He led you down a dimly lit corridor, all the while talking about how great of a guy he was and how wealthy, oh and did I mention I am a doctor?

If he kept stroking his own ego like that you'd throw up.

He steered you to the left, but you needed a room on the right. With a big ass window preferably. You made yourself stumble, giggled hysterically, veered to the right. He tried to catch you but you were already slipping through one of the doors into what seemed to be a conference room of sorts.

Huge windows.

"We shouldn't-"

"Can't we take care of my dress in here?" you interrupted, letting your lips pull into a wolfish grin. The message unambiguous. He followed you into the room and you walked back until you thought Bucky must've definitely seen you but the shot never came and then your back hit a wall and you were pretty sure you were the target now.

Where the fuck was Bucky?

Hands gripped your waist, the nauseating smell of cologne that was far too cheap for someone claiming to be super rich invaded your nose and you froze. You were out of practice, hadn't been in a fight in years. You were still pretty sure you could take him but not without harming yourself.

When he leaned in you whipped your head to the side, lips pressed tightly together. He made a displeased sound, almost crushed your jaw with a meaty hand as he forced you to look at him. "Playing hard to get now, are we?" he snarled.

"I changed my mind."

"I don't think so."

The hand keeping an iron grip on your jaw moved lower to your throat, squeezing. Breath stuttered in your chest, fear widened your eyes. His other hand already fumbled with the buckle on his belt.

"You're not gonna make a sound." The sound of a zipper being undone. Where was Bucky? "You're gonna be real good for me or I'll kill you and take what I want anyway."

The pressure around your throat tightened just the faintest bit and finally your head caught up with the situation. Muscle memory kicked in. Your head connected with his in a sickening crunch. He broke away from you, holding his head, startled. Surprise morphed into fury, contorted into something more sinister.

"You bitch!" he yelled, charged at you. You ducked a swing, drove your own fist into his side. He doubled over with a groan and you used the moment to kick him between the legs. Unfortunately with the wrong leg.

Pain shot up to your hips, into your lower back and you went down with him, barely concealing a cry.

"I'll fucking gut you like a fish, you fucking whore."

Hands wrapped around your ankles, you clawed at the floor, kicked at his face with your good leg but the aim was off and weak and he was reeling you in like prey until he was slotted between your legs and your arms were pinned above your head.

You struggled and yelled, mission be damned, but he clammed a hand above your mouth to shut you up and-

And then he slumped to the ground beside you, red soaking into the floorboards from a fresh hole in his head.

You were breathing too fast and your heart was beating too fast and everything was happening way, way too fast.

Bucky fell to his knees in front of you, his eyes a mirror of your own panicked state. He was brushing away tears you didn't know you'd shed and looking for injuries with a touch so gentle you barely noticed.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt? Y/N, did he hurt you? I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have…I was just…fuck, this is my fault."

You barely registered any of his words, your body still didn't feel quite like your own. Like you weren't in it. 

"Hey", he repeated more softly when you didn't respond, "You okay?"

The world came rushing back in and the most plausible thing to do seemed to be slapping Bucky in the face real hard. He let you.

"Where the fuck were you, Barnes?" You pushed yourself up onto your good leg, swayed dangerously to the side. He made a move to help but you evaded. "Don't touch me."

"Sorry." He looked stricken, genuinely worried, guilty even.

"Why weren't you where you were supposed to be? I was almost��almost…" You stopped talking, swallowed hard.

"I didn't like that I couldn't see you."

"So you abandoned post and put me in danger because you didn't trust me to get this done right? Is that it?"

"That's not why I-" He interrupted himself with a deep sigh, tilting his head to the side like he was picking up on some noise you couldn't hear. "Can I get you out of here first, please? You're obviously in pain and we really should get going before we're discovered."

"Whatever." You started hobbling towards the door but then you heard it, too. Footsteps in the hallway, shouts. The readying of guns.

"We can't go that way."

"Yeah, no shit." You still refused to look at the now very dead man on the ground but holding Bucky's gaze wasn't any easier. He usually wasn't one to be so reckless. He was always the one giving people shit when they didn't do exactly what they were told to. Of course the one time you get roped into something like this, Bucky decided to screw you over. He really didn't care at all, did he? "What else do you suggest?"

"Window." He simply pointed over his shoulder.

"You're kidding." The hand he held out for you to take told you otherwise. The noise in the hallway got louder, the footsteps drew closer but he stood almost relaxed, hand outstretched, waiting patiently for you to allow him to touch you.

"Don't drop me," you finally agreed. He could probably fight his way out without breaking a sweat but you couldn't.

He tucked you against his chest with a carefulness you hadn't expected, even asked you if this was fine when he felt you tense. "Don't act like you care," you mumbled. His response was drowned out by a door being broken down, the sound of shots being fired, then, the breaking of glass. And you were in free fall.

Bucky hit a dumpster down in the alley, his body beneath you absorbing most of the impact. You still hissed when it reverberated through your hips, your leg was feeling like it was on fire by now. "You okay?" Bucky was bleeding, had just taken the brunt of a fall from a second story window and he was asking if you were fine?

"Are you?" you asked incredulously, pushing yourself off of him.

"Jumped out of worse."

"That's not an answer."

"Don't act like you care," he echoed your own words back at you.

[mcskedprisoner]

"Yes. I regret my actions. Every single one of them. But for reason that only a few know I have to do these actions. Even if I regret it. If I don't then it won't work. It would of all been for nothing."

There was no hesitation when he spoke. Going through the motions as he stirred the water every so often. He raised his right hand once more to bring out some seasoning and a grinding stone to grind them up. Procuring some herbs as well. He also took out a Potion of Regeneration before looking at Tommy.

"Would this be too much for your body to take at this point? You're going to need your health at full. Trust me."

His words were blunt, to the point. Potions were extremely difficult to gather, at least from what Wilbur said... But were they really?

"It has a sort of salty taste due to the ghast tear needed to use brew it. But the Nether Wart is kinda sweet. So, it's your choice on if you want it added or not. You're in control of this dish, Tommy. I may know your favorite food, but I don't know everything you like in it. I'm only guessing."

He was still watching Tommy, watching the other's movements very intently. Gathering information.

"But to go back to what you said before, no nothing i say or do now makes up for it. Hell, what's going to happen after all of this won't make up for it. But it need to happen. It's not something either you or I have any control over. But Those Who Watch are just pulling everyone's strings. We're just puppets in a sick play of torture so they're entertained. Do you think I genuinely enjoy hurting the fifth person ever invited onto the server? Because I don't. Do you think I enjoy knowing that none of us can leave this fucking server? Do you even remember what you did before this server, Tommy?"

"This server was supposed to be a server that we all could come and go freely from, where we just fucked around and played on it! I didn't sign the fucking contracts with those Gods to preside over this server! The only one I did was with Kristen! So that if someone dies, they wouldn't die forever! But that's not what's happening is it?! It's easier to pin the blame on the Admin though."

He was angry, venting out his frustration. How everything went wrong. How it was easier to just blame him for everything. He could feel the strings. It made his skin crawl. He had his own strings dug into every player on the server, playing them around like a chess master but he was in the same position. He was laying the Wilbur's former pawns to finally check the king piece that he was. He could never tell them, or it would compromise the plan. But he wasn't angry at Tommy, no. He was angry at the situation. He was angry at the Gods overseeing his server. The only one he trusted was Kristen. But even then, she was more than likely being manipulated just like all the players on the server.

"I will admit I've done things wrong Tommy. I will admit it all, I will regret it. But no apologies will fix anything. Nothing will change the shit that has happened. But this is all to give you guys a better chance of stopping this."

Tommy watched him work in silence, arms crossed and teeth grinding behind a tight jaw. The sudden drop of the knife had startled him—too fast, too sharp, the hiss of pain cutting through the tension like a blade of its own. His first instinct was to move, to help. But he didn’t.

He stayed still, glaring, eyes flicking to the makeshift bandage and then back to the vegetables. Like hell he’d admit the sight of blood made his stomach twist.

When the letter landed beside him, Tommy didn’t touch it right away. He stared at it like it might explode. From the President’s desk. Tubbo’s handwriting, maybe. Maybe not. He wasn’t sure he could read it without hurling something across the clearing.

Dream kept talking. Rambling almost. Maybe trying to fill the silence. Maybe trying to drown his own thoughts out. Maybe trying to make himself seem human again.

Tommy wasn’t buying it. Not all the way. But the offer… the offer of truth, that was tempting. Dangerous, but tempting.

He picked up the letter, held it without opening it. Just felt the weight of it in his fingers.

Then finally, his voice came out—rough, low, and absolutely dripping with spite:

“Oh, so now you wanna be honest?” He scoffed. “After all the bullshit, after the gaslighting, the threats, the 'best friends' crap—now you're in the mood for honesty? What’s next, a fucking apology?”

He shook his head, waving the letter a bit like a prop. “This—this doesn’t fix anything. I don’t care if Fundy’s trying to marry you or if Tubbo’s hunting down a man with a skull for a face, alright? That doesn’t make this,” he gestured around, “any less messed up.”

But then, he looked down again at the letter. His throat worked once. Twice.

“…Still gonna read it, though.”

He tucked the letter into a pocket, carefully folding it up.

Then he sat down across from Dream, still radiating fury, but there was something else there too—exhaustion. A worn-down edge that no amount of mouthing off could fully hide. He helped with washing vegetables, rinsing them off in one of the extra water buckets, before passing them off to Dream to be sliced.

“Alright. You said ask anything. So here’s one.”

A pause. A beat.

“…Do you ever regret it? Any of it. What you did to me. What you're still doing.” His voice wavered. "Even just for a second."

He didn’t know why he asked. Maybe to hurt him. Maybe to see if there was anything real left in Dream at all.

[ilikeyoshi]

ppl like "i have to use ay-eye bc i can't drawwwww :(" ok whose fault is that. i can't draw either u know who's fault that is?? mine!!!! it isn't a bad thing but if i am unwilling to learn to draw that is Exclusively My Fault buddy!!!! if u refuse to practice that is, in fact, a you problem!!!! that's fine!!!! but u dont get to pretend u HAVE to use ay-eye bc an Uncontrollable Force prevents u from learning to draw!!!! u could just Go Learn!!!!

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

i thought their voices made for a pretty interesting combination, so i made a little test thing to show it off

ust by Zoë (@/half-a-head)

[coffee-keith]

Really struggling with trying to figure out what's me. Like what I enjoy and what ideas/traits/desires are actually my own. I think it's beautiful that people influence each other and grow together, but I'm left feeling lost right now and wondering what's actually me.

[aroaessidhe]

2023 reads

Adrift In Starlight

space opera adventure romance

a courtesan is hired to seduce the soon-to-be-wife of a famous actor

a historian who’s focused on her career & has no idea her marriage has been arranged by her rich parents

after a museum tour they and two co-workers accidentally resurrect an ancient alien artifact and end up on the run from the law, traveling from planet to planet

pan nonbinary transfemme MC, touch-averse ace MC

[luvcaleb]

DO YOU WANT MORE?

nsfw (18+). includes implied marathon sex, unprotected sex, breeding, breast play, squirting, caleb fucks roughly but still does tender gestures <3, nicknames (pipsqueak is possibly the worst they could've picked for a canon nickname but this is my attempt at making it sound hot). filthy smut from top to bottom. likes and reblogs will be very helpful !!

“C'mon, pipsqueak, raise your hips.”

Caleb squeezes your waist, his thrusts changing from a deep, persistent grind that makes you feel every inch of his cock to a fast-paced pounding. You've long lost feeling in your legs, and the only thing keeping you from sprawling on the bed is Caleb's tight grip on your hips, fucking into you relentlessly from behind.

“Ah...! Wait, Caleb, haah, no more...!”

Each thrust loudly snaps the bedframe against the wall, but it isn't enough to hide the squelching noises between your legs. Slick and cum drip down your thighs, staining the sheets into ruin. They get even messier with a few more thrusts as you gush around his cock unannounced, squirting into the cum-soaked bedsheets.

Caleb groans as your cunt squeezes around him, trying to coax out more of his hot cum. “Fuck, baby, you're so tight... Feels good when your cunt sucks on my cock...”

His hand slides to your squirting pussy, rubbing circles on your clit. More slick jets out of you, soaking his palm. Squealing, you try to crawl away him him, gripping tightly on the blankets that have been slipping off the bed.

The delicious pressure against your clit releases, but Caleb pulls you back to his cock. He straightens your back to press against his chest, bottoming out in a single thrust to hit the deepest spot in your pussy. “Ngh, why are you running away? Didn't you say you'd last longer than me, pips?” He pants against your ear, hand tenderly running along your side to soothe you, yet his hips don't stop their merciless thrusts. “Or are you tapping out now?”

Perhaps hours ago, you would have answered with a vehement refusal. But now, with drool dripping from your lips constantly agape from moaning, your clit too sensitive from his insistent flicking and rubbing, and your thoroughly-fucked cunt filled with his loads of cum, the idea of calling it quits sounds appealing.

“I'll do whatever you want, baby. Just say the word,” Caleb murmurs against your skin, his lips molding over your neck to suck another hickey among the marks he already made. “If you want to stop, I'll run the bath and take care of you. We'll cuddle on the sofa and watch that new movie you've been looking forward to.”

His hips stop, having pulled all the way out, the tip barely brushing against your cunt. “But if you don't want to stop...”

Slowly, his hand travels up your torso, squeezing your tits. He plays with your nipples, evoking another gasp out of you. “I'll make you feel good. Fuck any other thought out of your mind so you'll only think of me.”

You whine as his cock rubs along your wet folds, catching on the strings of cum dripping from your pussy. The tip circles around your clit, teases at your opening, just putting it in enough to make you feel its thick girth, but he pulls out too soon.

“What will you choose, baby?”

Your hazy mind can't come up with clear thoughts, foggy from the pleasure. But forming an answer is the easiest thing to do—it's not like he left you with any other choice, anyway.

“Please fuck me, Caleb,” you sob, clinging at the arm cupping your breast. “Please put your cock inside me. Fuck me even if I tell you to stop. Cum... please cum more inside m- ahh!”

You're roughly flipped onto your back, but he holds your head softly to lay you down on the pillow. It's only at this moment that you get to see Caleb's face, brows furrowed, sweat dripping down his temples, his lip bitten red from the strain of holding back. “Shit... you really do know how to rile me up, pipsqueak.”

He looms over you, muscled arms caging you on the bed, chest heaving up and down as he pants. He fixes his position, resting his weight on his knees, and he uses his hands to spread your legs wider. His eyes are dark with lust while he stares at your abused hole, spilling cum on the sheets below you.

“Maybe this time, I really will fuck you pregnant.”

The statement doesn't even register in your mind because he immediately thrusts inside, pounding at your cervix. You gasp, aimlessly grasping at anything you could hold onto as you lose your mind, a fresh stream of cum soaking his cock.

His abs ripple with each thrust, the dirtiest groans and pants leaving his lips. “Fuck, you're so cute... cumming already when I just put it in.” Caleb leans closer, catching both of your wrists to make you wrap your arms around his neck instead of the dirty sheets. “When did you become such a pervert?” He drops his head to suck at your tits, licking your nipples.

It's your fault, you want to say, but all that leaves your mouth are noises you didn't think you were capable of making until Caleb touched you for the first time months ago, and he hasn't stopped since. You heard couples would be insatiable for the first few weeks of dating, but it feels like you're never going to go past that phase.

“Can't even speak because my dick's too good, huh?” Caleb chuckles, thumb resting on your lips. He rubs the tip of your tongue, pleased when you dart out to lick him. “You're the absolute cutest...”

The sounds between your bodies are downright lewd. His cum sloshes inside you every time he fucks you to the bed, forming a creamy ring at the base of his cock. He's filled you up so much with his huge cock and cum, that you wonder how you even have the space to breathe.

Caleb's the type to try to be quiet, but he's not holding back his moans now, groaning his pleasure against your ear.

“This feels too good, shit... Feel like I'm gonna cum soon...” He tucks the hair covering your face behind your ear, pressing a gentle kiss at the corner of your teary eyes, so different from the rough fucking he's giving to your pussy. “I'm gonna blow my load inside you. You want that, don't you?”

You nod desperately, leaning your face on his hand that's cupping your cheek. He smiles, nuzzling against you, but the sweet moment lasts only for a few seconds before he thrusts even faster, chasing his release.

“Fuck, here it comes, I'm cumming...” Caleb drives his cock the deepest it can go, his balls slapping against your ass. “Oh, fuuuuck, I'm cumming!”

Thick, hot strings of cum coat your insides once more, crammed into the tight space of your cunt. Your squirt splashes against his pelvis and abs as you moan high and reedy, scratching lines down his back. He hisses at the slight pain, spurting more cum at the feeling, and he collapses on your body, making sure not to suffocate you with his weight.

“Ah... damn... I don't think I've cum that hard in a while...” He ruffles through your hair, soothingly patting your head. “You doing okay?”

“You're too intense,” you say, your voice weak and groggy. You wrap your arms around him, content to fall asleep and let Caleb take care of things from here.

“Hey, don't fall asleep now.” He pokes your cheek, trying to stir you awake. When you open your eyes, you see Caleb smiling, the one that means he's up to no good. “After all that you said, do you really think this will end with just one round?”

[painsandconfusion]

Writers, here’s your reminder that you should be doing warm-ups!

Athletes need to warm up. Musicians need to warm up. Artists need to warm up. Heck, I even have to play a few matches in video games before I get into a groove every day.

Warm-ups help you get into the right headspace, give you more control of your actions and word choice, get you comfortable in your physical setting (eg: with your keyboard, notebook, tablet, or whatever you're writing with), and spark creativity.

Even if you don’t think you have spoons to write, sit down and do a couple warm-ups. If you still don’t want to, that’s alright. But. I think you’ll be surprised how often they help break that ice.

5-15 minutes is all you need. I personally set a timer for ten minutes each time and do not stop writing until the time is up. Your warm-up can be anything at all so long as it gets you writing and starts nudging those creative juices.

Here's some common warm-ups:

Journaling. Just jot down some notes about your day. Feel free to really lean into something that you noticed. We're going for description and details -- try to avoid settling into a spiral or focusing on something negative that will upset your creativity.

Short story prompts. Type that into Pinterest and pick the most ridiculous, cliche thing you can. Write a little scene, story summary, or even a rant about why you do or don't like the prompt. Just write.

Vocab challenge. If you like a bit more critical thinking to get you in the zone, have a random vocabulary word generator spit out five or so words. Check their meanings and jot down a little story or thought that includes all five. You get more familiar with beautiful and descriptive language, and it gives you a much narrowed prompt (which is lovely if you're like me and suffer each time there's an open-ended task assigned).

Character moments. Try putting your character into a generic setting and write down almost meticulously what their thought process would be. Follow them realizing they've just stepped in mud or dreading the start of the day. Pick a mundane thing and describe them working through it. This will not only get your writing going, but it will wake up the character's voice in your head.

Ongoing storytelling. Did you know that Whinnie the Poo was A.A. Milne's warm up story? He would jot down a quick little story with those very basic characters and did so every day. Whatever came to mind. He kept writing little tidbits on the same characters and eventually it turned into a series. Having that ongoing plot with isolated scenes and simple characters can help you feel more motivated to sit down and write.

Get-to-know-you-questions. Google a list of basic first-date questions (there are a million out there) and answer one yourself. Go into specifics. Where do you most want to travel and why? Let yourself ramble until the question is fully answered.

Writer's block blues. This is a favorite of mine. If you're truly stuck, write about being stuck. Eg: 'I'm supposed to write for ten minutse, but that feels so stupid and impossible. No one is goign to read this anyway. I have no ideas and the page is so overwhelming when its blank. I used to be able to write on and on and nothing could stop me. it was like breathing. but now I have nothign and do nothing and I can't even do a stupid prompt-' Even the rambling and ranting got me writing. It made things easier. It made writing this post easier. Also -- notice the typos? Yeah, don't fix those. You're in writing mode, not editing mode when you're doing this. If you edit while you write, you're forcing yourself to stay in your executive and calculating headspace rather than falling fully into creativity and dream. Ignore the mistakes. That's for future you to handle.

I've officially rambled far too much, but I hope that helps even a little bit. Live well and write often, my friends. Best of luck to you <3

[vounoura]

I’ll consolidate my thoughts more coherently later but. I liked BG3 and I liked playing it, though I think a lot of the choices (mostly the act 3 ones) have an issue of not wanting to commit to their consequences and always give the player an out which is personally frustrating for me

[rafeovermorals]

YOUR OLD NEIGHBOR JOEL who becomes your personal handyman.. always fixing things around the house for you. something broken? you bring it to him and he’ll take care of it.

he teased you at first. “no boyfriend to do this?” he questioned in his usual nonchalant, grumpy tone.. but when you replied that you were single, you saw his lips tug into a smirk.

after a while you didn’t have to ask anymore. joel came over on his own accord just to find things to repair, it made him feel useful that way.

he warmed up to you over time. “it’s no problem, darlin’. not like i got much else to do these days.” you always offered him a cup of coffee as a thank you, which he accepted.

you would help him too. he was skilled with his hands, but electronics were a different story. when he finally upgraded from his flip phone, he didn’t have a clue in the world on what to do with it. “not my generation.” he grumbled, clearly struggling to figure it out.

he was too embarrassed to ask. “let me do it for you, old man.” you teased with a giggle, snatching the device from him. you got everything ready to go— going the extra mile to downloaded tinder and offering to set up a profile for him.. even though he swore he’d never use it.

you added your number to joel’s contacts. it was the only number, actually. he texted like a dad, responding to your texts with a flat “sure.” or “no.” until you taught him what emojis were, then he sometimes used the thumbs up or a heart.

he gave in one day, deciding to try out the dating apps. his profile was simple— classic joel. nothing really special about it.. except that all of the pictures he had were taken by you.

he scrolled through, pressing ‘x’ on each women that was prompted to him. he was ready to delete it all together.. but a familiar face popped up. you.

your profile was unlike anything he’d seen from the others. you stood out from the rest, of course you did. he swiped back and forth between your pictures.. his cock stirring in his pants at the sight of one with you in a bikini. you were alluring, a seductive smile that was bound to attract endless messages.

he felt dirty for staring too long. it was wrong, yet he couldn’t get himself to look away. why were you on there, anyway? a pretty girl like you had no business searching for love on this app full of perverted, lonely men like himself. even if so.. why would it show your account to him when he’s three times your age? he knew for a fact that the user had choice in what range they were interested in— you told him that.

the thought stuck with him. those flirty remarks, sneaking glances, and lingering touches clicked in his mind. before he could regret it, he pressed the ‘✓’ beside your name with a hold of his breath.

YOU HAVE A MATCH!

quick drabble because this picture posted today sent me into an old handyman!joel spiral. i’ve seen a few neighbor/fixer upper fics, but i want to link inspo to this one as it is one of my favorite reads on here!