#no one in the whole world should ever go through this

[lupinqs]

CRUSH CULTURE ━━ paige bueckers x reader

☆ ━ summary: paige has a hopeless crush on you, a cheerleader.

☆ ━ word count: 5.4K

☆ ━ warnings: alcohol consumption, kissing, this one’s tame

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, inspired by this request (lol i know this was forever ago)

☆ ━ author’s note: hiii i hope y’all enjoy—lemme know if you guys want a part 2 and if so send in ideas for it!!! i have been hopelessly uncreative recently!!! also yes i have been writing tmtc and safe and sound i promise—new chapter of tmtc should be out sometime this weekend, no idea on safe and sound because goddamn that fic takes me forever to write

PAIGE HAS ALWAYS noticed you—though, funny enough, at first it wasn’t because you cheered. That part didn’t even register until her junior year, when she started paying attention to things off the court. But she’d first noticed you back in her sophomore year, in that one class she didn’t feel like she needed at all. She’d often zone out, either doodling in the margins of her notebook or letting her eyes drift around the room as she let her mind wander. Her gaze would skip over classmates until, one day, it stopped on you.

And, God, she remembers that moment. The way she’d blinked, like she needed to reset her brain for a second because… well, you. It wasn’t anything specific, nothing she could even name at the time. But there was this something about you that made her stomach flip. From then on, whenever she zoned out, her eyes would find you before she even realized it. You’d be focused on your notes or lost in thought, completely unaware, and Paige would catch herself staring just a little too long.

She’d think about talking to you, but for some reason, you made her nervous. And that wasn’t something Paige was used to feeling—not with girls. She’d been confident her whole life, even a little cocky when it came to flirting, and her reputation certainly proceeded her. But with you, all of that confidence vanished. Her brain would go blank, her hands would fidget, and her heart would pound just watching you, sitting across the room. The idea of walking up to you, striking up a conversation, felt almost laughable. You’d somehow managed to turn her, Paige Bueckers, into a stammering mess with just a look.

And then there was the other part—the part that kept her from making a move even when she managed to work up the nerve. You looked so…straight. She knows it’s a stupid assumption, but something about the way you carried yourself—she’d convinced herself that you had to be straight. Maybe it was the way you fit in with the other girls, how they flocked around you like they were all in some effortlessly straight, picture-perfect group. Whatever it was, Paige felt certain you’d never look at her the way she looked at you.

So she let it go, or at least, she tried to. But you kept slipping into her thoughts, distracting her in that class, making her mind wander back to you when she least expected it. Her silly little crush on you lingered all through sophomore year, and even when summer rolled around, she found herself thinking of you every now and then, imagining what it might have been like to know you outside of that class.

Then junior year rolled around, and her whole world changed with that ACL tear. Benched for the season, her focus shifted in ways she never anticipated. Instead of charging down the court, she found herself sitting on the sidelines, watching, observing things she normally wouldn’t have noticed. And it was during one of those games, one of those long, frustrating nights when she just wanted to play, that she saw you again—this time, on the court as one of the cheerleaders.

At first, she couldn’t believe it. She actually had to blink a few times, like her brain was trying to catch up with what her eyes were seeing. This was her third year at UConn, and she hadn’t noticed you were a cheerleader ever. Maybe she really was just unobservant, but it truly shocked her. You looked completely different from how you did in class—more animated, more alive, like you were in your element. And when you started that long, impressive tumbling pass down the court, her jaw dropped. She didn’t even know you could do that, and it left her staring, heart hammering in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. (And maybe the tiny little uniform helped speed it up, too.)

From then on, Paige couldn’t keep her eyes off you during games. She’d always find herself watching you, wondering if you’d somehow feel her gaze, hoping that maybe, just once, you’d look her way. She spent so many games like that—sneaking glances, letting her mind wander, imagining what it might be like to finally work up the nerve to talk to you. But game after game, you never seemed to notice her, too focused on your routines, your teammates, and the cheering crowd around you.

And Paige? She knew she was hopelessly stuck. She’d sit there on the sidelines, feeling ridiculous, pining after a girl she couldn’t even talk to, a girl she thought she’d never really have a chance with. It was her worst crush yet—the kind that left her feeling off-balance, stumbling over her own thoughts, trying to convince herself that it didn’t matter—and she’d never even spoken to you. But each time she saw you out there, smiling, moving with that same effortless grace, she’d feel that same pull, that same quiet, persistent ache.

It’s senior year now, and Paige has one thing on her mind: basketball. It’s been more than a year since she’s played, and she’s determined to make this season count. All summer, she told herself the same thing over and over: Stay focused. Don’t get distracted. No more drifting thoughts, no more daydreams, and absolutely no more pointless crushes on girls she can’t have. And especially no crushes on you.

You, the cheerleader she’d spent too many junior year games staring at from the sidelines. You, the girl she still thought about when her mind wandered late at night, even though she knew better. No, this year, she was locking in. She’d worked too hard, too long, to let her head get all twisted up over you again. She was here to play basketball, not to chase after some unattainable crush.

But as she jogs onto the court for warm-ups, trying to ignore the butterflies that come with her first game back, her eyes somehow find you anyway. Just like they always do. And it’s like no time has passed at all. You’re laughing with the other cheerleaders, your hair perfectly styled in a half-up-half-down, a bow nestled in it, your uniform hugging you just right. The lights catch on your skin, giving you this soft glow, and your smile—God, that smile, so open and sweet and painfully distracting—has her heart skipping a beat before she even realizes it. Paige quickly snaps her eyes away, reminding herself she’s here to play, not to get lost in some imaginary world where she has a chance with you. This is her first game back, and even if it’s just an exhibition against Dayton, she’s got to make it count.

With a deep breath, she manages to brush you off. The pregame excitement kicks in, and her focus sharpens as the game begins. And it’s everything she’s been waiting for—the sounds of the court, the rush of the crowd, the thrill of moving with the ball in her hands again. She’s finally back, and for the first quarter, she’s locked in, feeling the rhythm of the game, feeling unstoppable.

Then it happens. KK makes a bad pass, and Paige is already in motion, chasing down the ball to save it from going out of bounds. She dives, stretching to reach it, but it’s just out of reach. Before she can stop herself, she’s crashing full speed into the sidelines—right into the cheerleaders.

Right into you.

The impact is quick and jarring, and she scrambles to her feet as fast as she can, heart hammering in her chest. She’s prepared to rattle off an apology when she realizes who she’s just barreled into. You’re significantly smaller than her, and her stomach drops as she takes in your wide eyes and the faint wince that flickers across your face. But you handle it with the same grace she’d always admired from afar, waving her off with a laugh and saying, “It’s fine! You’re good!” Your smile is easy, casual, and she’s even more mortified by how sweet you’re being about it.

She tries to apologize again, but you’re already brushing it off with that smile, and she feels her face heating up as she mumbles something unintelligible before hurrying back onto the court. But now her head’s a mess, all her carefully built-up focus gone, replaced by the embarrassing replay of what just happened. She tells herself to get it together, but it’s no use. Her mind keeps drifting back to the look on your face, to the sound of your laugh, to the softness in your smile when you waved her off.

The rest of the game passes in a frustrating blur. She’s off her rhythm, missing open shots she’d normally sink with ease, getting caught in rotations she usually anticipates. By the end, she’s only scored eight points—a painfully low number, especially for her—and she feels the weight of it like a stone in her stomach. She should be thinking about the game, her missed shots, how to get her focus back. But as she sits on the bench, watching the last few minutes tick away, all she can think about is you standing there, laughing off her clumsy collision, looking up at her with that easy, unbothered smile.

So much for not getting distracted.

After the game, Paige is still kicking herself over how sloppy her performance was. She lingers in the locker room, hoping to avoid any unwanted run-ins. But finally, when she’s convinced she’s given it enough time for everyone to clear out, she heads out into the quiet halls of Gampel Pavilion.

Except, of course, her luck isn’t that great. Just as she’s walking out, she spots you—still in your cheer uniform but with a UConn sweatshirt thrown over it, heading down the hall, cheer bag on your back. Her first instinct is to turn around, bolt back into the locker room, and hope to avoid any more humiliation, but it’s already too late. You look up, and your eyes meet, and suddenly she’s frozen in place, panicking because she’s actually staring straight into your eyes.

And then you smile at her. That smile, the one that sends her brain into a meltdown every time. But it’s so much worse now because your smile is directed at her. And, suddenly, you’re walking up to her and saying, “Hey, good game tonight,” and Paige is pretty sure her heart has stopped.

She tries to seem casual, to play it cool, but all she can manage is a shrug and a half-hearted, “Eh, wasn’t my best.” She’s hoping you don’t notice her stutter, but her cheeks are burning, giving her away.

You just wave it off, your dimple showing as you grin up at her. “Nah, this was just your warm-up. You haven’t played in, like, over a year. Next game you’ll drop thirty.”

Paige blinks, and the fact that you know she’s good at basketball—even though everyone knows she’s good at basketball—is enough to send her into a coma, she thinks. “Oh, gosh,” she says, rubbing the back of her neck, struggling to find words. “Gonna have to now, just for you.” The second it’s out of her mouth, she mentally facepalms. That totally sounds like she’s trying to flirt with you.

But you just laugh, eyes crinkling as you look at her, completely unfazed. “I’ll hold you to it,” you say, and that smile doesn’t waver.

There’s a pause, and Paige knows this is where you’re about to say goodbye, and she panics because, after two years of thinking and practically obsessing over you, she’s finally talking to you, and it feels too short, too fleeting. Before she can second-guess herself, she blurts, “Oh—uh, hey, about earlier… when I ran into you. I’m… really sorry about that.”

You shake your head, smiling even wider, brushing it off with an easy laugh. “Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time; more than you’d think.”

There’s something so casual and warm about the way you say it, and she feels herself relax a little, caught up in the fact that you’re looking right at her, not at all bothered, almost… endeared? And for some reason, seeing your dimpled smile has her stammering like she’s never done before.

“So… uh…” Paige stumbles, her words failing, her confidence gone. “Are you, um, going to Ted’s tonight?” She bites her lip the moment it’s out, but she presses on. “You know, a lot of people go there after the first game—it’s kinda, like, a…thing. Which, y’know, I guess you probably already know about because… you’re, like, not a freshman…” She sounds so stupid. God.

You tilt your head slightly, considering, before you smile at her again. “I wasn’t really planning on going, but…” You pause, looking at her with a bit of a spark in your eyes, and for a second, she feels like she might actually combust. “Should I?”

Paige’s eyes widen, and she’s nodding before she can stop herself. “Y-yes! I—I think you’d have a good time.” She mentally scolds herself for the stutter, but you’re just nodding, still smiling, still looking so effortlessly at ease while she’s a nervous mess.

You laugh softly, a sound she’s sure she’ll replay in her head all night, and say, “Alright. I’ll think about it. And if I do decide to go, I’ll see you there, Bueckers.”

And with one last smile, you turn and walk away, leaving her standing there in shock, her heart racing and her mind replaying every word you just said. She’s tempted to pinch herself, convinced this has to be some elaborate daydream because there’s no way she actually just talked to you.

She doesn’t move for a long moment, replaying the way you said her name, the sound of your laugh, and the chance that she might actually see you tonight.

IT’S LATER in the night at Ted’s, and Paige is doing her best to stay composed, talking with one of the guys from the men’s team. Dirty Shirley in hand, she’s feeling just the faintest buzz, not enough to loosen her grip on reality but just enough to feel the edges of her confidence soften. She’s nodding along to something the guy’s saying when, over his shoulder, she spots you walking in.

Paige’s attention falters as she takes you in. You’re in baggy jeans that hang low on your hips, and a leather tube top that clings in all the right places, dipping enough to make her gaze lower slightly. She can barely tear her gaze away as you head over to the bar with a couple of friends, both of whom Paige recognizes from the cheer team. You’re laughing, leaning into one of them, completely at ease, and she can’t stop watching.

She realizes she’s staring a little too long, so she quickly excuses herself, not to talk to you—God, no, she can’t even think straight around you—but to hide by her teammates before she does something stupid. Her teammates notice her the moment she approaches, grinning as they watch her flustered expression.

“You see who just walked in, P?” Azzi teases, nudging her.

Paige groans, cheeks burning. “Don’t start.”

But they’re all laughing, and Ice is elbowing KK with a smirk. Nika, who’s been listening with a barely disguised grin, rolls her eyes. “Okay, this is ridiculous. You’ve had a crush on this girl since, like, forever. Go talk to her.”

“Are you kidding? I can’t. She’s—” Paige doesn’t even finish the sentence, glancing over her shoulder just in time to see you at the bar, waiting for your drink. She’d be lying if she said her confidence hadn’t evaporated the moment you walked in, looking like that.

“Girl boo,” KK sighs dramatically, before grabbing Paige’s wrist and dragging her toward the bar. Paige stumbles after her, mumbling weak protests, but KK is determined, practically hauling her across the crowded floor until they’re standing right next to you. KK orders a Sprite, leaning casually on the bar and glancing over at you with a grin. “Hey, girly pop! You cheer, right?”

You smile, looking more at Paige than at KK, and Paige’s heart thuds against her ribs. “Yeah, I do,” you say, introducing yourself and holding out a hand to KK, but your gaze flickers right back to Paige, who’s half-hiding behind her friend, cheeks pink and looking slightly caught. “Hi, Paige.”

Paige’s voice comes out a little sheepish. “Hey.”

KK smirks, clearly satisfied, and gives Paige a quick wink before excusing herself, leaving Paige standing there alone with you.

There’s a beat of awkward silence as Paige shifts on her feet, trying to keep herself from looking like an idiot, which is hard considering how aware she is of every single thing about you—your posture, your smile, the way you’re leaning in just close enough that she can catch a faint hint of your perfume.

“So,” Paige says, trying for casual. “You glad you came?”

You tilt your head, your lips quirking up. “Hmm, not sure yet. I’m not too impressed so far.”

She nods, stifling a wince, feeling more awkward than she can ever remember. And yet, her mind’s racing, urging her to just go for it, because this is her moment. She’s Paige Bueckers—she’s supposed to be confident. She always is. Besides, if you’re not interested, at least she’ll know. And if you are…

She hesitates, then swallows, trying to keep her voice steady as she says, “Um… can I buy you a drink?”

There’s a flicker of something in your eyes—maybe amusement, maybe surprise—and she’s mentally bracing herself for you to say no when you glance at the bar and say, “Actually, I just ordered one.” Her heart sinks a little, but she forces a smile, trying to play it off. Of course you’re not interested; she should have known better—

Then you’re leaning closer, nudging her elbow with yours, and you smirk, your voice soft and playful. “But you can buy my next one, if you want.”

Paige’s brain short-circuits as your words settle in, her mouth going dry as she realizes what you just said. “Uh, y-yeah, totally,” she manages, trying to keep from looking as giddy as she feels. “I…I’d love to.”

Your smirk turns into a grin, and you’re looking at her like she’s the only person in the room. She’s trying to come up with something smooth to say when, suddenly, one of your friends pops ups beside you and Paige, tugging on your arm, pulling you off the barstool and towards the crowd with a teasing, “Come on!”

Paige opens her mouth to protest, but before she knows it, you’re being swallowed up into the throng of people—not before you send her a quick, apologetic look over your shoulder, your friend still dragging you. Paige frowns, a little disappointed, but quickly catches herself. It’s fine, she thinks, though a twinge of regret lingers. She pushes it aside, grabbing her drink from the bar and returning back to her table, telling herself to focus on celebrating. She’s finally back on the court, and after such a long, difficult recovery, tonight is meant to be about unwinding. So she does, letting her team hype her up as they cheer and clink their drinks in her honor, pulling her deeper into the night.

As the time passes, Paige’s frustration eases, replaced by a warm buzz that dulls everything except the elation of being surrounded by her friends. But even as she sips her drink, she can’t help but think about where you’ve disappeared to, if you’re still here, still laughing with your friends somewhere across the bar. She finds herself scanning the crowd more than once, looking for a glimpse of you. She tries to push it down, laugh it off with another round, but every time she looks around, her gaze seems to search for you.

Eventually, the heat of the crowded bar gets to her. She feels flushed, dizzy from the alcohol and the mass of people, so she slips out the back door for some air. The cool breeze hits her face, and she closes her eyes for a second, sighing as the sounds of the bar fade behind her. She barely has a moment to herself before she notices a figure sitting just a few feet away.

It’s you, sitting on the curb, looking down at your hands as if lost in thought. Paige blinks, unsure if she’s seeing things. But then you look up at the sound of the door closing and smile, that familiar, gentle smile that makes her heart stutter. You seem just as surprised to see her, but your expression softens, like you’re genuinely happy she’s there. And that’s all the encouragement Paige needs.

“You care if I join?” she asks, trying to sound casual, even though her heart’s racing.

“Not at all,” you reply, and she takes a seat beside you, a bit closer than she planned. She feels your warmth even in the night air, and it makes her head spin in a way she can’t blame on the alcohol.

There’s a pause, a comfortable silence stretching between you. Paige watches as you draw patterns in the gravel with your fingers, the lights from the bar casting a soft glow over your face. She swallows, summoning up the nerve to say something—anything that might keep you sitting here with her.

“Why you out here?” she starts, genuinely curious.

You shrug, glancing back toward the bar. “Got a little claustrophobic in there,” you say, voice soft.

“Yeah… me too,” Paige nods, grateful for the fresh air and this quiet moment with you. The silence returns, but this time, it’s charged, heavy with something she can’t quite put into words.

Finally, Paige finds her voice again, her words slipping out before she can think them over. “You’re a good cheerleader, y’know. You do all those flips and shit—it’s impressive.”

You let out a small laugh, looking away for a second as if flattered. Paige is almost certain she sees a faint blush on your cheeks, and the sight makes her smile a little, lips curving upward. “Didn’t know you really paid attention to the cheerleaders,” you respond, teasing.

Paige scoffs, shrugging as if it isn’t a big deal, even though she feels like she’s been caught in some sort of confession—which, she kinda has. “Well, I did sit out for a year, so… I had to find something to watch.”

You tilt your head, smirking as you ask, “So you chose to watch me?”

Paige’s cheeks warm, and she silently thanks the alcohol for the courage that lets her meet your gaze. “Yeah,” she murmurs, watching as you look away, biting your lip as if trying to hide a smile. The sight makes her heart skip in a way that’s both exhilarating and terrifying.

After a moment, Paige adds, “I think we… had a class together, couple years ago?”

You nod, eyes lighting up at the memory. “Yeah, we did. Sociology, right?” you reaffirm, nodding in tandem with her. “’M surprised you remember that—you always seemed so disinterested.”

Paige nearly blanches, genuinely surprised you’d noticed her too. She didn’t think you’d have remembered her, much less noticed her back then. The notion gives her some of her usual confidence beck and she manages a chuckle, shaking her head and tilting it slightly toward you as she murmurs, “Ah, so you were watching me too, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you as you nudge her shoulder. “Shut up,” you mutter, but the blush on your face doesn’t go unnoticed.

There’s another pause, the two of you sitting side by side in the quiet, both of you lingering on the edge of something unsaid. Finally, you break the silence, voice soft and hesitant. “How come you never said anything before?”

Paige swallows, the question catching her off guard. She doesn’t know how to answer without giving herself away, without admitting the way her stomach twists every time she sees you around campus. So instead, she asks, turning the question back on you, “How come you never did?”

You don’t seem to mind that she didn’t really give you an answer. Instead, you just shrug, looking down at your hands. “I don’t know… you make me kinda nervous.”

The confession makes Paige’s heart alight, feeling like it’s on fire and might spread throughout her whole body. She’s used to people being in awe of her for basketball, for her skills on the court. But hearing you say that you feel that way too, like she’s someone more than just her reputation, shakes her. Besides, you’ve always seemed so incredibly at ease around her, never even bothering to look her way. So, almost incredulously, she asks, “Why?”

You scoff, looking at her like she’s missing something obvious. “Um, because you’re Paige Bueckers. Basketball prodigy, campus celebrity.” You raise your eyebrows at her. “I think most people would be.”

Paige feels a rush of warmth at your words, the way you say her name like it means something special. She searches your face, feeling the air grow thick around you, heavy with something she couldn’t quite name. And maybe it’s the alcohol in her system, maybe it’s the way you’re looking at her like she’s somehow both intimidating and endearing at the same time, but she’s feeling bold. Bold enough to keep this conversation going, to see where this moment might lead.

She clears her throat, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Well, if it helps… you make me nervous.”

You laugh, a little breathless, clearly surprised. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious,” Paige insists. “You ain’t see the way I stuttered around you earlier? Ion know, ma, you just kinda fuck with my head.”

She watches, grin widening, as you blush at her words, the color blooming across your cheeks. It’s addictive, seeing you react like that—because of her. She doesn’t even try to hide her amusement when you ask, gaze set out in front of you instead of on her, “Why would I fuck with your head?”

It’s a good question, one Paige asked herself for a long time. It never took her long to figure out the answer. Though, she’s a little nervous to explain herself.

And she gets even more nervous when your gaze slides back onto hers, your head turning towards her. Paige’s smile falters, just slightly, at the eye contact. It’s intense, the kind that feels like it’s holding the world still for a second. Paige’s heart is a drum in her chest, each beat vibrating through her veins. Her eyes slide across your face, your features, tracing the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, the faint shimmer glitter swiped along your eyelids. She catalogues every detail as if she’s never going to get this close again—a very real possibility if she doesn’t up her game.

Finally, she leans in—just slightly—her voice low and steady as she answers you. “You got this positive energy that makes you just… stand out in front of a crowd. Big smile. Bright eyes. Mm, I just… like seeing that in people.”

The words settle in the space between you, warm and lingering. Paige hesitates, letting them wrap around you both before adding, her voice dipping lower, her boldness shooting upward, “And it doesn’t help that you’re too beautiful for your own good.”

You blush deeper this time, cheeks tinted more red than pink, and it makes Paige’s heart skip. She can’t help the way her lips twitch into a grin. She’s waited so long to see this—see you flustered because of her. It’s everything she imagined and more.

“Stop,” you protest, fighting a smile as you push at her hands, your tone not carrying any weight behind the word. Paige just laughs, soft and easy, catching your hand in hers before you can pull away. She lifts it slightly, letting her thumb brush over your knuckles as she murmurs, “Nah, really.”

It’s then that the air changes—shifting into something heavier. The space between the two of you is practically nonexistent at this point, your sides tucked right into each other. You’re staring at one another, and Paige can’t help it when her gaze flickers down to your lips, just for a second. But it turns out to be enough. Because then she sees your eyes dart to her mouth in return, lingering there. And that’s when Paige knows.

Still holding your hand, she locks her gaze on yours, her voice firm but soft when she repeats, “Really.”

It’s like that word unlocks something between you because suddenly you’re leaning in, and Paige is doing the same, her breath catching the moment your lips touch hers. It’s soft, tentative at first, like neither of you are quite sure if this is real. But then you press into her just slightly, and Paige swears the whole world tilts on its axis.

The kiss deepens, slow but deliberate, and Paige feels her whole body light up. Your lips are warm, soft, and you taste faintly of tequila and strawberry chapstick. It’s intoxicating, the way you move against her, gentle but with enough purpose to make her head spin. Paige’s hand slides up to cradle your jaw, her thumb brushing against your cheekbone.

Your fingers grab at her bicep, holding on like you don’t want to let go, and it sends a thrill through her. Paige’s lips part slightly, and when you follow, letting her slip her tongue into your mouth, it’s like a fire ignites somewhere deep inside her. The kiss isn’t frantic or messy—it’s unhurried, like the two of you have all the time in the world to explore this. She can feel the heat of your skin where her hand cups your face, and she wants to memorize every second, every sensation.

The way you tilt your head just a little, giving her more access, nearly undoes her. Paige tilts her own in response, deepening the kiss further, her fingers slipping from your jaw to the back of your neck. The touch is light, almost reverent, but the closeness makes her heart race.

Your other hand moves, grazing against her side before resting lightly on her hip. Paige’s stomach flips at the contact, her body leaning instinctively closer to yours. She swears she can feel the warmth of your breath between kisses, the subtle hitch when she nips at your bottom lip.

It’s slow, it’s sweet, but it’s intoxicating. Paige swears she’s never kissed anyone like this before, never felt this much just from simple lip-locking. When you pull back slightly—not breaking the kiss entirely, just catching your breath—she can’t help herself. She follows you instinctively, her mouth chasing yours in a way that feels both vulnerable and utterly fearless. You allow her to, tongues half entwined between your swollen lips.

When you finally part, Paige keeps close, her forehead gently pressing against yours, her hand still cradling your neck. Neither of you moves far, the space between you so small your breaths still mingle, soft and warm against each other’s lips. Paige’s eyes flutter open, but she doesn’t look away from you, her gaze locked on yours like you’re the only thing in the world that matters—which, right now, you might as well be.

Her voice comes out lower than she intends, husky and laced with something she can’t quite hide as she murmurs, “You gonna let me buy you that drink now?”

Your lips curve into a slow, easy grin, and Paige feels her chest tighten, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of it. You’re so close she can see the faint glimmer of mischief in your eyes, the way they soften as you look at her.

“Yeah,” you say, your voice soft but sure, “I’d like that.”

The way you say it, the way your smile widens just slightly after, makes Paige’s heart race all over again. She can’t help the small, satisfied smile that spreads across her face. Paige leans back just enough to take in the sight of you—your flushed cheeks, the way your hair’s slightly mussed, and that lingering, breathtaking smile she knows will haunt her in the best way.

“Good,” she murmurs, her thumb brushing your jaw lightly one last time before she pulls away completely, standing up and offering you her hand. When you take it, she holds on a little longer than necessary, leading you back into the bar, already planning how she’s going to keep you smiling for the rest of the night—and, hopefully, much longer afterwards.

[travelingtwentysomething]

Steve shakes his head with a frown, "Wait, what?"

Eddie backs up and starts shaking his hair out like a wet dog, dead petals and leaves falling around him like sad confetti. He doesn't quite look at Steve and bites his lips, quickly looking away at the pile of boxes that had spilled out of the closet, not sure what he was looking at, but feeling guilty as hell that he had been caught snooping. Even though he wasn't.

"Sorry, I wasn't looking through your stuff, I don't know what I was doing, I kinda panicked when I heard you coming and I think the plan was to hide in your closet." Eddie confessed, unable to look Steve in the eyes. He crouched down and started gathering up the bouquets and boxes, needing something to do with his hands.

"Well it's a little late to be going back into the closet now, especially your boyfriend's..." Steve snorted, Eddie's eyes darted up to Steve's at that, a shy grin taking over his mouth, unsure if it should bloom fully or wilt in the heat of his cheeks, red hot with embarrassment.

"Boyfriend?" Eddie whispered hesitantly, hope sparking at the bottom of his spine. Steve got on his knees across from him and started pulling boxes out of the pile to stack up neatly in front of him like a wonky tower, unstable and futile.

Steve was the one biting his lips now, the red in his cheeks making him look like a kid just came in from the snow tracking in mud, waiting under the glare of some parental figure ready to yell at him for the mess.

"I..." Steve glanced up into Eddie's eyes but couldn't hold his gaze, unsure what Eddie's were saying to him. Steve was terrified right now, his hands shaking as he tried to stack another box, knocking the whole thing over again.

The boxes fell and this time one of the flatter boxes opened as the lid tipped off. A leather bound journal, handmade from the looks of it and stamped in the cover was a bold EM in beautiful script you might see in a medieval text.

Steve gasped and tried to grab the book and shove it back in the box quickly, but his shaking hands were covered by another pair, more sturdy, but cold with the metal of a plethora of rings. Steve shyly looked at Eddie's face through his lashes, but Eddie wasn't looking back at him, his eyes glued to the journal.

"Steve... Is this- Are these my initials?" Eddie whispered, finally meeting Steve's honey brown with his dark chocolate, only growing darker by the minute.

Steve misinterpreted the look by miles.

"Yeah, look, I'm sorry, man, I don't know how to do this. I mean- I do, I've got moves, I can be smooth, trust me- just, I've only ever done this with girls, and I know you're not a girl- that's not- not the point. I know I can't just romance you like some chick, bring you flowers," at this Steve gestured all around them at the plethora of flowers ranging from Halloween decor to fresh as a daisy, "and hold your hand at the movies," here he reached down to Eddie's hands that had fallen limp on his own knees, holding them both between them as if to tether him back to reality, "but I can't help it, I really want that- all of it- with you. I-"

Eddie tackled Steve to the floor, landing on top of him with an oomph from them both as he knocked the wind out of Steve and his hair draped around their faces, blocking out the rest of the world. Steve looked up at Eddie with wide eyes, afraid for a moment that he had gone too far, but took one look at the beaming smile that had blossomed on his face and gasped in pain and relief, his head falling limp onto the carpet below as his body finally released all of the tension it had been holding since he had come back to the living room with pop corn and an apology on his lips to find Eddie missing.

"Steve, look at me." Eddie snapped. Steve opened his eyes wide again and looked at Eddie, smiling like a lunatic above him, "My favorite flowers are Violets, and you can absolutely hold my hand, and cuddle, and kiss me whenever you want! I may not be a girl, but I'm still a romantic, and right now I just found out I have a boyfriend who has been hoarding gifts and flowers in his closet like some sort of gay dragon." At this Steve laughed and rolled his eyes, trying not to let the water building up on his lash lines fall, beaming up at Eddie hovering over him, the curtains of his curly hair keeping the world at bay. "So, shut up and let me kiss you before I swoon from all this smooth romancing!"

Steve opened his mouth to say he absolutely can be smooth, he just had to work out some... kinks- but Eddie was done talking, he had a better use for his tongue.

steddie au where eddie thinks they're just hooking up because steve never treats him like all his previous girlfriends, but steve thinks they're dating and the relationship is only different because it's Gay. he's just trying to follow eddie's lead without making a fool of himself (he keeps buying gifts and flowers then shoving them into the back of his closet because he doesn't want eddie to think he's "treating him like a girl")

[sarawritestories]

Oh Gods I Wish You Were Here

Cassian X Fem Reader

Summary: The holidays are fast approaching, and Cassian can feel the void now more than ever.

Content warning: mention of death, holidays, grief, and tears probably, not proofread.

A/N: Not how I intended to come back, but I got in my feelings, and this was the result.

Don't take it personally that I didn't tag this one...I just wanted to get it out as the words came.

Joy to the world. The war was over Feyre's birthday was upon them, along with Winter Solstice. Velaris snow covered, warm lights illuminating the longer evenings. Cassian could hear your daughter laughing alongside his cousin Nyx. All was right with the world.

Just not Cassian's.

As he looked at the daughter, the two of you shared, he reached out that familiar bond, and he did his best to cover his flinch as a reaction to the winter breeze rolling in. And not the ache of the end of the fading gold bond being hollow. The painful reminder that you were not here. Not watching your daughter growing up or laughing at his corny jokes.

The Mother was cruel.

"Daddy," he smiled, swallowing the tears threatening to form, "Nyx said we get to go decorate the tree at Auntie FeyFey and Uncle Rhysie's house" Aria, your 6 year old, raised her arms up and was in Cassian's embrace in an instant, his wings curving to block the wind. "Can we, pretty please?"

Cassian wanted to fall to his knees. She had your smile, the twinkle in your eye when you were excited about something. It wasn't fair.

You should have been the one to soak in these moments. To enjoy in the holiday luster. To see your child grow into a person. To see that she had your looks, personality, and your mate's whole heart.

But illness doesn't discriminate. It takes and it takes. He continues to take until its victim has nothing left, and the General of the Night Court's army only had a tombstone, and the memories you both shared as illness managed to claim another innocent soul.

Cassian had no time to grieve as Aria needed him, needed him to live, to move forward, to get out of the bed. He had to live so that Aria had her best chance at life.

The sounds of familiar voices hit his ears as Nyx led him and Aria to the townhouse, a continual meeting place for Solstice. Rhys greeted them, and Aria was greedy to get out of her father's arms and embrace her uncle. "Can we decorate the tree?"

Rhys laughed and kissed her cheek, "Of course, Starlight. Go find Auntie FeyFey and Uncle Az." Aria was quick to grab Nyx's hand, leaving the two Illyrian males behind. Rhys' gaze met his, and talons scratched at Cassian's walls.

"I'm fine," Cassian grumbled.

"Well, over 500 years, and you are still a horrific liar." Rhys flicks some lint off his shirt and sits on the stoop. Cassian joined him his wings tucked in tight. "I know the holidays are hard."

Cassian shook his head, "Aria, started school. She's made friends and takes art classes. It's not fair, Rhys. Aria shouldn't have to learn about her through stories at night time. She should be here Rhys." Cassian tucked his face in his hand a sob racking out of his body. "I want her here."

Rhys held his friend tightly. As Cassian roared, "Oh God's I wish you were here!" The door creaked open, and tiny hands gripped onto Cassian's wrist. He uncovered his face to see Aria smiling. "I'm sorry, Sweetheart," he sniffled as he pulled his child to his chest, trying to compose himself from his outburst.

Aria kissed his cheek, "Look, Daddy. A gift for you. Uncle Azzy said you could open it early." An envelope with his name in her tiny hands with...your handwriting. He gently took it from the small child and opened it.

Hey Handsome,

If you're reading this, then it must be Solstice, and our little girl is not so little anymore. I need you to know that if you're reading this that I fought hard. I fought so that you would never had to open these. I think we both know the outcome. I know you are hurting. I know you are fighting to keep our girl safe and protected and loved. I will never be able to thank you enough for the bravery you had before, during, and after this hardship.

Know I'm there with you, every big milestone, every storytime, every boo boo you kiss for Aria. And I'll be there through the bad stuff too, I'm sure. I get to look down at you from the stars and make sure you're safe and protected, for once. I love you, Cassian. I promise that we will find each other in the next life and we will have more time. There are letters for both you and Aria for big milestones, Az was given strict instructions on when to deliver them for you. When the world seems like too much and the void is too great, maybe my words will help the two of you grow and move on in my absence.

All My Love,

Your Sweetheart.

"Daddy?" Aria looked at him with eyes that matched his own, "what did it say?" Cassian smiled aware that the two were now alone

Cassian held her close and looked up at the stars, illuminating the town. "Look up at the night sky, little one." She did, and as the two looked on, a star flashed across the star, and Cassian heard her little gasp. "That was Mommy. She was letting us know she was here."

Aria snuggled against her father's chest, "I miss her." She whispered.

"Me too, Princess, me too." And the duo looked up at the night sky and wished that their favorite person was looking back at them.

~Fin

[isabeauwolf]

Ex Dabi x reader (x Hawks) - My World

It has been a few months since you two broke up.

You said you were done being a villain and out of Dabi's life.

You apprenticed under Giran as an information broker. The man picked you up off the street as a teenage run away and you never looked back. Well, until...

That. Nosy, goodie two-shoes, two-faced, hypocritical red winged chicken sunk his talons into you.

Stole you from him.

His doll. His woman.

Dabi's usually cool and carefree composure cracks every time he sees you with Japan's Number 2 Hero. His anger, rage and red hot jealousy burning like liquid fire in his veins as he feels his burnt, scarred and stapled jaw clenching and grinding; his free hand twitches and closes into a white knuckled fist.

Seeing you smile cutely. Blushing and giggling with earnest and genuine emotion in your doe-like eyes as the bastard's gloved knuckles brush the back of your cheek, shoving a soft lock of your hair behind your ear, gently cups your jaw and brings you into a kiss.

Dabi knows this faker was a double agent. Why couldn't you see that despite his warning? You usually have an incredible sense of reading people. How could you be so blind? Unable to see this lying heartbreaker through those rose tinted glasses.

Yes. Shigaraki and Giran had given you their permission to walk away, you no longer had a criminal record or it was deleted and destroyed by your hacker friend La Brava, who chose to support you in your career change.

Shigaraki, Giran, Toga, Twice, Mr Compress and hell, even Spinner missed you.

Dabi chose to watch from the shadows. No matter how much he hardened this heart, making himself go numb, shove the earth shattering pain and heartbreak down, masking it, locking it and burning the key with his blue hellfire flames.

Only when he was alone in his room at night did he breakdown every night, releasing silent screams into his pillow that still smelled like you. The one person who thawed his icy, horribly fragile, blackened, ash covered and twisted stitched back together heart.

Clutching the blue pillow to his chest as he cried bloody tears, shuddering and sobbing quietly and mentally remembering when you used to look at him like that. As if he was your whole world.

He should hate you with every fiber left in his soul, and yet... he couldn't... he couldn't bring himself to hate you.

Not even after you shattered his heart.

Dabi's eyes widen as more red, bloody tears covered and hazed his vision.

Seeing you look at Hawks made him second guess himself. Did you truly love him at all for this past year since he's joined the League?

Or were you only using him for information?

The more Dabi questioned himself and your relationship, the more his paranoia and mind began to unravel! No, no! You loved him. You said you did! You wouldn't have stayed by his side and nursed him back to health after he'd gotten sick and injured during a mission, if you didn't love him and didn't care. Right?

He thought about the last few weeks before you decided to break up.

"Touya?" You mumbled shyly while cuddling against his naked chest on his bed.

Touya hummed, opening an eye and glanced down at you, holding you close and the other arm underneath his head.

You opened your mouth and then closed it. You sat upright, dragging the sheet with you to cover your chest and frowned, "Do you... ever thing about the future... after the war is over? After you, Shigaraki and the rest of the gang have tore down Hero Society?"

Touya raised an eyebrow. This wasn't the first time you two had had this conversation. He reassured you that he would be all yours, whispering comforting words to try and soothe your fears. But this time felt different. "Doll, what's this really about?" He sat upright, tilting his head and cupping your cheek as tears spilled down your face and down his hand as he wiped them away. "Y/n?"

"I... I don't care... what happens to the world... I can't lose you.." You whimpered, salty droplets falling harder and faster as you sobbed and hiccuped. "I'm not... strong enough..."

Touya frowned and pulled you into his chest and into his lap. "Hey, hey, shush, I'm coming back, baby." It hurt him to see you like this. He rested his chin on top of your head as he held you tight and let you cry it out. "I can't leave my crybaby all alone in this shitty world, can I?"

You both knew it was a lie. You both held onto each other tightly as each others lifelines. Knew the clock was ticking, the closer it came to the boss' hibernation to gain more power.... it was only a matter of time before The Heroes would strike. Try to capture you both and lock you away forever.

There was no All For One or Overhaul, some other big baddies to distract the Heroes attention and escape routes, do-overs, resets, check points, it was all or nothing. The game will be going on auto pilot while the boss is sleeping and the NPC's, Allies, Enemies were all gathering their strength, training and preparing.

Sniffing once you had claimed down, you pulled away. "I love you, Touya Todoroki." You whispered, breathlessly.

Touya's eyes widened and his breath stilled, his heart thudding hard in his chest. That was the first time you ever said you loved him. There was no need to before, he knew you loved him from your actions alone. Words were cheap, actions spoke louder. You always whispered his old name so sweetly, like a secret, which it was. Only you were allowed to say it in private or during your love making and rough fucking in the sheets when everyone else was gone.

Your frown deepened. "I said, I love you... aren't you going to say it back?" You fiddling with your hands, showing how nervous you were.

Touya blinked, he couldn't voice his answer. He knew that a world without you would be hollow and empty. He felt half mad and worried when you were out gathering intel and groceries for The League in a disguise since you weren't well known, but the more paranoid part of him couldn't risk it.

Your hair covered your face and you started to crawl off his lap, bottom lip trembling. "Sorry.. sorry for bother-"

Touya cut you off, leaning forward, smashing his mismatched lips with your own and pushing your back against the mattress. You gasped and moaned into the kisses as he poured all of his love, feelings, heart and passion into it. He couldn't tell you yet, not yet. Instead, he would use his body, his hands, his fingers all of him into showing you. Using his scarred, burnt and broken body as an instrument to use to pleasure you, to protect you.... you; his too kind-hearted doll. He made love to you again, more tender and gentle, forcing orgasm after orgasm from your body, and greedy for more.

Dabi shook his head, furiously wiping away and painting his cheeks red from his tears as he scowled. He replayed the day you two broke up in his head as his hands tightening into the pillow.

Anger and fury resurfacing as you had just finished talking with Shigaraki about something. He didn't like not knowing what. You were always stupidly and annoyingly over excited to share your new assignment or information with him after telling the boss.

Your smile dropped as soon as you turned back to face him. "Hi, Dabi." Your frown deepened as you glanced at your feet.

Dabi's eyes narrowed as he tilted his head. Something was wrong. You hadn't been this nervous and shy since he first joined The League. "What's wrong, "V/n?"

You bit your lip and swallowed. "Can I... talk to you in private?"

Dabi walked towards you, his movements slow and intimidating as he towered over you. His presence usually smoothed you and comforted you, but now you were cowering before him. "We are alone right now. Talk." His voice calm, but a hint of ice in it. Backing you up against the cold, hard concrete wall behind you as he pressed his hard chest against your own, arms rising and boxing you in on either side of your head. "C'mon, my little doll. Tell your boyfriend the truth like a good little girl and maybe... maybe I'll go easy on you." He cooed darkly, lips curling into a wolfish and hungry grin, you knew he'd keep his dark promises.

He knew you loved his twisted praises.

Your breath hitched and you shivered against him, cheeks heating.

Your eyes met his own as he gently gripped your chin with his thumb and forefinger. "I-.."

His mouth ghosting over your own, this cat and mouse game never grew old between you two. "Yes?" Dabi whispered low and husky, excitement and lust heating his veins.

You closed your eyes, swallowed down your fear and pushed your courage to the surface. "I want to break up with you, Dabi!" You said that a lot louder than you meant to, but you said it, nevertheless.

Dabi paused and his heart stopped, his body froze and tensed. Did he hear you right? No. He couldn't have. You were just playing with him. A joke for scaring you. "Come again?" He bit out, he felt his body growing hotter, quaking and trembling with anger.

You didn't answer, which pissed him off even more.

Pulling away from you, his blunt nails digging into the concrete and the other slamming hard into the concrete slab beside you, a blast of blue embers igniting, leaving scorch marks. "Goddammit! Answer me, Y/n!" He hissed, turquoise eyes heated and dilated in furry.

The sound of wings flapping and something sharp pressed against his neck made Dabi peak over his shoulder. Of course, the nosy, Heroic red peacock was sticking his nose into business that didn't concern him. "What do you want, Hero?" The black haired man growled, meeting Hawks own cold hearted, amber glare.

"I believe you've been dumped my friend." Hawks answered. "Now, back away from her or things will get messy." Pressing his bladed red feather further into the other man's neck. "Go walk it off, hothead."

Everything in the villains body forced him to stay still. The hell he would leave you alone with this bastard. He knew you hated Heroes. No one had saved you when you needed them most, no one else, except for Giran. Not until The League and Dabi himself protected you, their treasure and info broker, their golden egg.

You were apart of them now. Their comrade. You've cried for them. You've risked your life for them time and time again. You've bleed for them.

"I don't like being told what to do, chicken feet." Dabi fully turned, keeping his back towards you, shielding you despite how royally irritated he was at you. He wasn't going to abandon you. He'd rather let his shitty old man have a free shot than trust this faker. "Our conversation is between us, not you. Beat it before I really get angry and burn your feathers."

Hawks lowered his weapon and sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "Talk about a flare for the dramatic arts you have, Dabi." He folded his red feathers behind his back, locking his gloved hands behind his head and spun around in a circle on his heels. "The missy clearly doesn't want you anymore and you can't let go." He clicked his tongue and frown, "That's just sad man, ya know? Happens all the time. The chemistry and romance fizzles out. You two don't click anymore." His golden gaze met the flame villains.

Dabi felt as if he had been stabbed in the heart with a knife and the stupid feathered freak was twisting it, deeper and deeper. It made his ire burn hotter and flames blaze, double fists white-knuckled as his hands ignited, bursting into azure hellfire. "Last warning, bastard." His eyes narrowed, snarling. "Back the fuck off, eyesore."

Hawks raised his crimson feathered blade and got into a battle stance, "Hard way it is then, flam-o."

Hero and Villain getting ready to charge.

You ran around Dabi and stood between them, raising your arms and yelled. "Stop! Please stop!"

Dabi and Hawks paused, eyes widen.

"Doll, move."

"Get out of the way before you get hurt, little bird."

Dabi grit his teeth, he hated the stupid pet bird name Hawks gave you. It didn't suit you at all. You were his doll. His baby. His little mousy. "The fuck are you nicknamin' my girl for, fuckface?" He growled.

Hawks raised an eyebrow. "What? As of.." He tilted his head and hummed, gripping his chin, then glanced down at his watch. "Five minutes ago, the girls single and free game right?" He winked and gave you a cheeky grin.

Dabi was seeing red, his blood boiling in his veins and he felt every muscle in his body twitch and grow alight. "The hell she is. Dream on, playboy." Bursts and sparks of his blue flames randomly appearing over his body: the side of his head, his palms and his shoulder. He hunched his shoulders, getting ready to charge using his legs and his flames as you stepped towards him.

He remained rooted on the spot, a heated and frustrated groaning hiss leaving his already raspy vocal cords. "Move out of my way, baby or you'll get hurt! I'm warning you, dammit!"

You puffed out your cheeks and chest. He knew you did it when your more stubborn and bratty streak came out while challenging him.

He normally would tease you and call you cute, playing your bluff. You were a shitty liar and had a terrible poker face. But right now was not one of those times.

"I'm not moving, Dabi." You spat, tears prickling the corners. "You either back down or run me over. Your choice?" Your voice cracked and breaking, voice trembling, the next few words felt like acid. "Hawks... is right... its over... Dabi.." Your body quivering and you sobbed, letting your tears spill freely. You would have fallen onto your knees and onto the ground had Hawks not caught you and pulled you into his arms.

"Hey, it's okay, I'm here, birdy." Hawks whispered softly into your ear, cradling you against his chest, wrapping one of his feathered wings around you and shielding you from Dabi's view.

Dabi's flames vanished, he shook his head. No. You didn't mean it. You couldn't mean it. It's a lie.... he thought, that fake motherfucker poisoned your mind with his false chivalry and play boyish charms. God, please, please... tell me this is all a nightmare. He swallowed the hard lump in his throat. He just realized that he said those words out loud, he own voice sounded foreign to him, broken, needy and pleading.

That wasn't like the infamous, cold-hearted, Dabi at all.

Hawks glanced over to the flame user with pity and sympathy. "Hate to break it to ya buddy, but it is." He picked you up in his arms as you wrapped your arms around his neck and sobbed harder into his bombers jacket. The Hero turned, but Dabi caught the frown and sorrow behind Hawks golden viser.

No. It clicked, that flying rat was in love with you!

You were letting him touch you and comfort you, which was his job.

Dabi shook himself, "Put her down, bird bitch." Jealousy already settling into his bones and twisting in his gut. If you left with Hawks, it would truly be over and you never explained why?! So many unanswered questions swirling in his mind.

Were you cheating on him with Hawks? No.

Hawks half turned, soften golden orbs glowered. "If you attack me. You risk hurting your ex-lover pyro. Is that what you want, hot shot?" He argued, scowling. "Hurting a defenseless woman out of anger? Pathetic man." His red feathers ruffled and flapped with aggravation and irritation, growing razor sharp. "Try it and I won't be nice a second time."

Dabi grit his teeth, his fists clenched so hard, his nails dug into his palms, breaking the skin, blood spilling from the wound and dripping on the ground. He didn't feel it. Couldn't even, if he tried. His sense of pain was dulled, except for the unbearable pain in his chest, his heart, and his soul. "Get the fucking hell out of my sight before I change my mind, Hero." He spat with venom as he stormed off in the opposite direction.

Dabi wouldn't admit it, but he regretted not stealing you away from Hawks when he had the chance. The next morning, you left a letter on his pillow saying that you had quit.

Standing from the bed, wearing only his sweatpants, he began to pace back and forth. The more he walked circles round and round the room, the more frustrated and heated he became, nearly tearing his hair out of his scalp.

So many puzzle pieces were missing. He couldn't ask the boss since he was still asleep. Dabi was tempted to barge into Twice's room and demand for him to make a clone of you. He needed answers, but he also missed you so goddamn much. He missed you hogging the blanket in the middle of the night, you wearing one of his shirts to bed and nothing else, you sleep in his bed and that cute, dopey, half sleepy and half awake smile on your face as he brought you your morning coffee.

Why couldn't you see that you were his whole goddamn world? He'd do anything to make you happy. He'd burn the world and anyone you asked him too.

Were you ashamed of him? Calling him your boyfriend? That he didn't repeat those three little words back to you when he should have? Of course, he loved you! He thought you knew that. Trusted him.

Dabi dug his blunt nails into his skull harder. What the fuck was he missing?!

It's all that stupid, huffing, puffing, red feathered assholes fault!

Hawks. Damned nosy, kiss ass.

Piss ant. Poser. Traitor. Double crossing, Hero spy.

Dabi's eye widened a fraction. Spy? Spy!

He stopped his pacing and his clawing. Scarred, burnt, stapled lips quirking and twitching into a feral, twisted and chesire cat grin. A string of giggles slipping past his mouth, laughing and snickers growing in volume, he spun on his heels, round and round, faster and faster, cackling into madness and hysterics.

All of it made sense now. You weren't in love with that prick. You were a spy for The League! Who better to butter-up that pansy than you.

Dabi signed and threw his body back onto his bed, half delirious and dizzy, the room spinning, his body still shook and giggles died in his throat and trying to regain his breath. Oh, my brilliant and beautiful, crafty doll. He wished he could kiss you and smother you with cuddles, praises, love bites and bury himself into your warmth and body. My naughty girl, keeping a secret mission from me. His little mousy had truly grown into a fine villain.

----------

Fanfic inspired by the song: My World by SR-71

https://youtu.be/1MNukXXhOMA?si=1YhVOZgedAP8VlUB

I'm sorry 😭 Touya. The angst, hurt and heartbreak 💔 just hit while I was listening to this song on my music playlist

Should I make a part 2? Tell me your thoughts 😉 Should reader and Dabi get back together?

If I missed you in my tag list let me know! 💞 Or if you want me to take you off my tag list, I understand.

Tag list: @fanofflames @slayfics @angelblueflame @cherry-queens-blog @tapiocakisses @moonchild701 @selinakyles-wife @shadow-w1zard-money-gang @dabislittlemouse @nekolover93 @kkodzukens @phantomhoeass @s-k-3-l-l-y @fabled-lady-twilla @trickster-kat @myvillainacademiafan @nikki0606 @metranart @m3gumibear @staitc-rj @spectra-phantasma @kyiratodoroki

[dorkydegeneracy]

It's crazy that we were all tossing around these theories about how Eddie was going to get Chris back, and arguably one of the more obvious solutions, Eddie returning to El Paso all together to be with Chris, never crossed our minds.

Because let's be honest. IRL this isn't a terrible decision. It's actually quite a good one, considering Chris is seemingly thriving in Texas and all of his blood family is there (radio silence from Tia Pepa and Abuelita (didn't abuela move back to Texas, or is that fanon? The lines between fic and reality are Heavily blurred)). Uprooting Chris' life again would be unnecessarily cruel. Stability is of paramount importance right now after the tumultuous life Chris has had.

There are really only two things that make this idea nonsensical:

1) Eddie moving to El Paso is not going to fix his relationship with his son. He's doing it purely for himself because he is missing out on his son's most formative year. (See #2 for more insight on this.). But Chris doesn't need Eddie to move to El Paso permanently. He needs Eddie to come to terms with why he continues to make these reckless mistakes that affect Chris in a real way. Chris needs Eddie to stop trying to replace Shannon. Chris needs Eddie to move on and be happy so he can be an even better father. Which brings me to. . .

2(a)) Eddie believes that moving to El Paso is going to make him happy because Chris is there. But he is sorrily mistaken. The priest gave him the assignment to stop punishing himself and allow himself to feel joy. And he is choosing to move so that he can be happier by not missing Chris's milestone moments. He's going about the assignment the wrong way. Yes Chris should and does make him happy, but that's not the only thing that makes Eddie happy. It would be incredibly unhealthy if this was true. Eddie LOVES being a fire fighter. Eddie LOVES his fire fam* (more than he likes his parents). And. . .

2(b)) EDDIE LOVES BUCK. There are a million reasons why Eddie loves Buck. But one in particular was illuminated last episode that I don't think the show has ever teased at before.

Listen, I know we are all obsessed with Buck having his own crisis, but this was the most striking part of the entire scene for me. DO Y'ALL SEE THIS FACE? This is the face of a man who was afraid to let his "best friend" know that he was planning on moving to El Paso to be with his son because he knows that Buck is going through a tough time right now. He didn't want to add another stone to the pile. But Buck isn't a guest in Eddie's house, so he took a peak and ripped the band-aid off. And Buck had the nerve to be 1000% supportive of Eddie's decision. So Eddie makes that 👆🏾face because he CANNOT BELIEVE that Buck would be so selfless. He thinks it's crazy that somebody would unquestionably help him be happy in Buck's scenario.

Eddie, I'm just saying, what we all just saw is HUSBAND-like behavior from Buck. And I know you didn't see the whole thing, and you don't know this, but you have just flipped Buck's world upside down. Your man is dying on the inside. Because BUCK LOVES YOU. But he doesn't know that yet. And he doesn't want to pull you away from your son. Who is also his son. So yeah.

*NOTE: The fire fam is not the same as actual blood family at least not for Chris. I get it, Helena obviously does not have Eddie's interest at heart, which is why her and Ramon taking Chris for three months is cruel, but I think the show is trying to suggest that Chris is indeed thriving in El Paso where he is surrounded by his aunts, uncles, cousins and other family. Those bonds are unique and important. Even if Helena Diaz is conniving. The fire fam in my mind is more crucial for Eddie. Not that the fire fam aren't amazing and provide a comforting familial sense in LA, but. . . you get what I mean. It's just different. Especially since Eddie actually has a big family back home, not all of which he is maligned.

[meamiki]

okay here is the original ramble under the cut here! mainly doing these to the ones with associated textposts for different tagging systems tbh LOL

vvv

TLDR - The Universe keeps fucking with Loop and they are not really happy about it, regardless of timing.

While I haven't decided anything 100% concrete for Loop, the idea of a reverse isekaied Loop in general is interesting to me, so I'll be exploring that a bit here. Especially in terms of timing on when Loop gets taken out of their timeline. At least in terms of immediate outlook within this AU. So, for now, have a couple of those thoughts! 

---

The two main points in time I am currently considering are the following:

1. From when they gave up their original wish and made a new one.

In this instance, I feel like their arc would play a bit similar to in game

Seeing this new world as different & peaceful

Since they don’t have to deal with the loops anymore, just watch whatever happens.

Be a lil silly for funsies! The chaos that can ensue with a star being existing within a modern world! 

Even though it hurts to see Siffrin’s team hanging around, they really don’t have anywhere to go at the moment (hard to hide a star being in this type of world)

To a slow realization of how unfair this whole situation is. In comparison to all of the horrors they went through, this Siffrin has it so easy.

This Siffrin gets to live an idyllic life, free from the world calamity of being frozen & the literal time loop.

This Siffrin gets to freely hang around their family team, with no foreseeable "end" to being with them in sight.

This Siffrin had their original wish, the wish Loop wanted granted, handed to them on a silver platter. 

This Siffrin, nor anyone in this world, would ever be able to come close to understanding what Loop went through; Loop would never truly be seen in this world, not fully anyway.

What does The Universe have against them, to put them into this world and make them witness all of this?

It should have been them, with this carefree type of life, given all they went through.

2. AFTER the fight with Siffrin.

This leans a bit more lighthearted than the last, since Loop would have gone through all the development from the game via convos + the talk at the very end with Siffrin, and has a bit more peace about their whole deal.

Perhaps they would still see the same conclusions as above, since healing from the horrors would not happen all at once, if ever, with additional flavor

Underlying bitterness in why the script is still going. 

Why is The Universe asking for them to continue into a new world and role?

Haven’t they had enough, once making them witness another Siffrin’s loops and perfect ending, and now a completely idyllic Siffrin’s life from the get go?

However, there is also a bit of hope in the entire situation. Since if The Universe keeps deciding to fuck with them (as in, sending them to different world lines) there is still, technically, the chance of going backward as well.

To their original timeline and to their family.

Once could have been a one-off, but twice?

Perhaps three world jumps might be the minimum to go back, following standard wishing rituals?

More hope in this one from the get-go, with that thought in mind.

---

Though there are probably other points in time that would be interesting too! 

Another one I was considering was RIGHT BEFORE the fight with Siffrin, perhaps even mid-fight. However, I don't think that makes much sense for this particular AU ASAFASFASDAS. Can you imagine if Loop just spawned into this world, doesn't realize this is a completely different Siffrin, and attacks on sight?????

Honestly the idea of a reverse-isekaied Loop into different AU's in general is neat, would love to see other people's takes on it!!  Especially cuz of the various reactions/conclusions Loop could have/make based on the scenario/circumstances would be interesting, if that makes sense. At least I think there is something in that thought? I dunno!

I feel like I am missing some characterization bits in here, but that was the main gist of it for now since I cannot remember LMAO.

Mumblings over, thanks for reading my silly thoughts if you got this far!!!

a star being appeared in your apartment, wdyd?

(aka loop getting reverse isekaied into the modern office au)

also there are some scattered mumblings on loop in this AU under the cut actually in an rb now link right here if anyone's interested (spoilers for all of ISAT, including 2hats!)

[dylansfavwife]

cool tats

୨ৎ summary : you meet matt in the coffee shop when working

you cursed to yourself as you heard the bell ding, signalling someone had come into the store. the cold air from outside filtered in until the door closed behind them.

it was nearing the end of your shift and you were exhausted but you quickly put on a strained smile as you looked up to the customer who’d just walked in.

you’re voice faltered as you made eye contact, his blue piercing eyes hooked onto you. his hair was tousled and slight messy and his face was soft as he smiled at you. his cheeks and nose pink due to the bitter cold outside. he seemed to be in his early twenties just like you.

“wha- what would you like?” you questioned, cringing at the slight stutter in your words. he just sends you a sweet smile, filling you with butterflies.

“could i just get three pumpkin spice lattes?” he asked, his eyes having quickly flickered to the menu screen.

“yeah of course, is this to go?” you asked.

“unfortunately” he replied looking back over to the window where you could see the strong winds swaying the trees, you chuckled at his words, missing how his smile grew from your laugh.

“well uhh what’s your name” you questioned trying to hide your interest as he replied “matt”.

you smiled now much more genuinely than before, “well matt, just wait here a second and i’ll have your drinks” you explained as he simply nodded, he had just met you but something about the way you’d said his name left his heart racing.

you walked over to the coffee machine as you concentrated, all your movements precise as you made the drinks. making coffee was an easy job to you which meant you could get lost in your thoughts.

your thoughts were preoccupied with the man, matt, standing at the counter. he was insanely attractive and you cursed the world that he had to see you on a working day were you were filled with exhaustion, your eyebags prominent.

you walked back over to him, the drinks all on a drinks tray for easier carrying as you put his drinks down on the counter.

“three pumpkin spice lattes for you” you announced as he walked up smiling gratefully.

“thank you…” he paused as he read your name of your name tag, his hand coming up to push his hair out of his face nervously, you now noticed the tattoos which littered his arm and you felt entranced by them. they felt contrasting to his seemingly soft personality.

“cool tats” you complimented without thinking about it much, he laughed as he pulled out his phone to pay.

“thank you, have you got any?” he questioned his eyes flickering over your body, his clear intrigue caused you to blush as the payment transaction went through.

“oh just a little one on my hip” you explained, your voice so entrancing to matt as his eyes twinkled with intrigue. “oh yeah?” he smirked slightly as you looked away quickly, the eye contact leaving your skin burning with sensation.

“yeah, i really wanna get more though” you said starting to ramble as he chuckled again, his laugh deep and genuine.

“i think you would suit more tattoos” he complimented. you thanked him trying to hide the giant smile threatening to fill your whole face.

you both started at each for a moment, no words passed, he then quickly cleared his throat “well i should get going, my brothers are waiting for their drinks” he pointed out picking up the coffee you had now forgotten about.

“yeah of course, have a good evening” you spoke, your voice soft as he smiled. he bid you goodbye as his eyes looked you up and down once more before he walked back out into the freezing cold as snow began to fall.

as the bell dinged with his exit, did you realise you forgot to ask for his number much too caught up in the moment. you sighed unsure if you’d ever see him again.

a.n : i love writing some fluff

[heavenbloom]

🇵🇸 BEFORE YOU READ: DONATE • BOYCOTT TLOU • GAZAN MUTUAL AID MASTERLIST

❆ — 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

song: the night — lovewave

summary: a letter addressed to abby anderson, twenty years after the two of you parted.

warnings: 18+ mdni, literally straight up angst, letter format, from reader’s pov, set in the future, not proofread.

a/n: this is entirely inspired by moonlit winter (2019). this’ll probably be boring af but i love love that goes beyond time and the physical and i love mundane yet emotional movies <3

The icy air nipped at your fingertips, the chill tracing unforgiving trails from them to the bottom of your soles.

The snowfall was thick this time of year and it painted the small town in hushed tones. The only thing heard in the white noonday was the laboured crunch of your boots and the heave of your breath against your thick woollen scarf.

The cold barely registered, though, as you dipped your hand into your coat pocket. The thin, glossy edge of an envelope crinkled at the contact.

How could something so small and hidden conceal a whole lifetime within it? It felt like it was burning a hole where it sat, yearning to reunite with your being, to settle there and remain a secret.

The sound of your footfalls ceased, and you let out a slow exhale. A plume of air swelled in front of your vision, softening the edges of everything.

The post office box was rimmed with ice. It stood as lonesome as you did, on this drowsy street, in a town you knew so well now, yet not nearly enough as you should have. It was hard to be a part of something when you always had one eye gazing back at the past.

This would hopefully change that. A parting gift. A farewell to somebody you had said goodbye to long ago.

You reached for the letter.

⋆⁺₊❅.

Dear Abby,

It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?

I don’t know if I will send this letter, but I can imagine the look on your face if you ever do receive it. Bushy, furrowed brows and downcast eyes… you never looked up when you were puzzled about something. It was if you had to retreat into yourself in order to make sense of the world around you.

The woman that I see receiving this is youthful and vibrant, forever frozen in the sands of my memory. Lines have begun to etch my features, and with each year that passes by, they deepen. It must be the same for you. It has to be, right? But the image of you, aged, eludes me.

I often imagine what kind of person you are now. Did you ever marry? Have children? Do you live in a house with a garden bursting with the smells of overripe berries and fresh herbs, like the one we fantasised about owning all those years ago? These are the reveries that have teeth, that sink and gnaw at something unspoken within me.

I did know you, once, but I’m unsure I do now. Does the soul change over time, or just the meat and bone that surrounds it?

I’ve experienced more of my life with your absence as opposed to your presence. I moved to a quiet corner of the world and made a life for myself. The summers here are mild and the winters are the never-ending and silent kind that we never saw back home. It’s somewhere that you would despise.

Maybe that’s why you plague my mind so often. This town is a place where I know you’d never find yourself in. Back then, I was running away from you and in a way, I still am. Like visiting an attic that one knows is haunted, I think of you.

I dream of you, too. Mundane, meaningless. Nothing happens in these dreams, but you’re there, shining. A wisp of blonde hair, the starlight of a freckled shoulder… the same.

I guess this sameness is what compelled me to write this. I’ve been walking through my life with my head craned back towards the past, so much so that I couldn’t see where I was headed. Now I’ve stopped, in the middle of it, in this purgatory. It can’t go on, Abby. At some point, I have to turn to face the future. I should have long ago.

I’m made up of regrets, but what good will they do now? Instead of listing the should-haves, I’ll tell you the truth;

This is not the first letter I’ve written that’s dedicated to you, but it will be the first I’ve ever had the courage to send. Let it be the last.

I’m sorry if what we shared has also left you with scars and an endlessness of seeking. I’m sorry that I was cowardly, and that I still am.

Thank you for the sliver of sweetness that you gave to me. Thank you for loving me like you meant it. I hope you know that I meant it, too. Everything I did, every word and every touch, was honest.

But I have lived with its death. Now I must let it rot.

Goodbye, Abby. Be braver than I am.

[melodytowmn]

What Isreal is doing to Gaza right now is horrific and should not be ignored

Do not stop talking do not stop sharing, we can't let them win.

[runningracingdancingchasing]

She had not expected that kiss, but it said more than his words had been able to, reached her in a way that nothing else had. She cradled his face with one hand, the other resting over his bound hands.

And then, he was gone. Gone from her lips, gone from her life.

"No..." she begged quietly. It was a plea for his ears only, but his ears could not receive it. "No...!" She bent over his body, her forehead touching his, as the last of the living warmth was leeched from his skin by the cold indifference of death.

She was useless, worthless, the breeze tugging at dead brown hair that might have been able to save him mere hours ago. She shouldn't have cut it. She should have found another way! Maybe then, all would not have been for naught.

His crow cried out, and its caw mirrored the anguished sound her heart was making as it shattered in her chest. Everything. She'd lost everything except Pascal. The woman who raised her, her mother in all ways but reality, was gone. She couldn't go home again; she'd already revealed herself to be their Lost Princess, and they would want to keep her here. And Audwin. Her dear, sweet, wonderful, hurting Audwin. If only she'd had more time to show him the goodness and kindess in the world, maybe he'd have learned how to be truly happy. And now, he'd never know.

Rapunzel's shoulders shook as a sob wracked her body. She did need him. No matter what he said, she needed him. Maybe not in the way he thought she meant, but without him in her life, everything was grey.

Her heart ached so badly, she didn't know how to soothe it, and so she did the only thing she could think to do, the one thing she always did when she was in any kind of pain.

She sang.

♫ Heal what has been hurt Change the Fates' design Save what has been lost Bring back what once was mine What once was mine... ♫

She had never meant the words more than she meant them now. She was hurt, she had lost, and for a brief, shining moment, he had been hers, and she wanted him back. She needed him back. But she couldn't do anything about it ever again. Her magic was gone, and she wept. She wept for the man she loved and the power she'd lost. The life she'd lost in one hasty cut of the scissors.

The courtyard was silent as she mourned, so silent that she wasn't aware of the thousands of eyes on her, the shock and awe with which she was watched. But then, the sudden blooming of murmured voices caught her attention, and she looked up.

A golden glow, the exact same color as her healing hair, was erupting from Audwin's chest, tendrils of light weaving through the air like strokes of her paintbrush. It was warm to the touch, ruffling her short hair and caressing her skin, soothing her heart. Healing light. But, she couldn't! Was it doing it on its own? The light trails moved and connected and formed the brilliant image of a flower, which hung in the air before more light trails grew from it, until the entire courtyard was aglow with healing magic. The murmurs of the people had become cries of shock, bewilderment, wonder, awe, and Rapunzel held tightly to Audwin's body the whole time, her hand cradling the back of his head.

The arrows were pushed from his body, clattering onto the steps and rolling away, and his wounds knitted back together, the golden light closing them as if they had never been. And then she felt his skin begin to warm, and she felt him take a breath, and she didn't dare to hope, but how could she not after a display like that?

The world seemed to still as the light dissipated, blending into the morning sunlight. "Audwin...?" she breathed, prayed, peering at his face as she brushed his dark hair from it with curious, eager, trembling fingers.

In his years alone, Audwin had gotten used to being chilled by empty, lonesome cold. This was different. More all encompassing. Like he was going numb.

"Ssshhh shh," Audwin gently hushed her, letting his bound hands rest on her forearm. Her skin was warm under his hand as his bare palm touched her skin for the first time. "You never needed me..."

Every breath and word hurt, but he couldn't stand to hear her begging. It was beneath her. He was beneath her. How he had ever been allowed to be near her, he couldn't say, but he was grateful for every moment of it. She had brought sunlight into his dark and miserable tower.

Everyone in the courtyard stood by in silent shock and reverence. Too stunned to speak as a truth they hadn't been prepared for was revealed. Their princess, who they had mourned for years, was alive... And cared for the man they were about to execute for her death. Though it would appear they still had. No matter how fast they called for a surgeon, that arrow had pierced his lung. No earthly power could save him now.

Audwin laid there, staring up at Rapunzel, her head framed by a halo of morning sunlight. Her magic was gone, but she'd never looked more radiant. Or maybe that was his vision beginning to blur and making everything around him foggy except her. He could tell there was no time for him to say all the things he needed to. What he had wanted to say on that bridge before would be left unsaid. It didn't matter now. There were two arrows buried in his back. What words could convey what all needed to be said?

With the last bit of strength in his body and a gasping, shallow breath, the owl sorcerer lifted his head to meet her. His heart was racing, and he knew he didn't have much time, so he finished what he'd started when they were hanging from that statue hours ago. When everything in the world was right. He kissed her. It was chaste, shakey and cold, and maybe he could taste his own blood in his mouth, but he couldn't die without it being the last thing he did.

He held on for as long as he was able, but as seconds passed, his lips fell away from her, and his body went limp. His head dropped back onto the stairs, and her skirts and his eyes didn't reopen. A gentle morning breeze pulled at his dark locks, but his face didn't twitch in irritation as it usually would. An anguished caw from his crow was his death knell.

The owl sorcerer was vanquished. Audwin was gone...

[vaguely-concerned]

just going about my day idly contemplating how some of the ways hawke can interact with a romanced anders are not at all unlike how they interact with leandra (and a bit of carver too, especially with a purple hawke), and then thought about my hawke in the timeline where he romances anders and was hit straight in the face with 'was he ever actually in love, or was he just desperately trying to renegotiate with his mother's ghost in any way he could' and now i need to lie down. this is the power of dragon age 2

[lususnatura]

🎤 🎤 🎤

a song that i associate with my muse meme!

AHH, hey, ramone!! thank you for sending in this prompt :D since you sent in three of the mic's, i shall now be treating you to three songs that make me think of blamore when i hear them / that i associate with it. an explanation of why i chose them will be in the tags <3

hozier - who we are.

icehouse - crazy.

depeche mode - personal jesus.

[came-out-of-the-coffin-desisted]

writing dragon age fanfiction is so so so so hard for me because every time i spot another historical inaccuracy that’s like “i don’t care that it’s fantasy they have the same level of technology this is WRONG” i have to have a moment of like. “kaed NO ONE ELSE will EVER care about this. you watch ‘ranking period dramas on corset accuracy both in construction and writing’ videos on youtube for entertainment normal people simply do not give a FUCK about medieval castle layouts!”

and yet this cycle continues, because the dragon age devs so so so so clearly DID research but they did BAD research and it HAUNTS me. like WHYYYYY is there only one courtyard that isn’t even really a courtyard in castle cousland WHY is the “main hall” huge with no furniture while the great hall “dining room” is tiny as fuck and in a horrible to access spot WHY are there no ovens in the kitchens where the FUCK do they bake the breaaaad!! like ok fine cool servants get beds in thedas i’ll bite. that fucks hard, actually! but WHY are there more servant rooms than rooms for visiting nobles do you honestly think anybody in the middle ages fucking had servant rooms???? they slept on the FLOOR in the GREAT HALL! and WHY is there a fucking library and a ‘treasury’ (which what the fuck is THAT there should be a DON-JON in there you locked your valuables in the TOWER at the TOP, not in ONE room centrally located on the first floor with TWO guards!!) like i KNOW it was for level design i KNOW it was but oh my fucking g-d it’s gonna KILL ME to write out creeping through corridors when there WERE NO CORRIDORS! like look at this. look at this.

castle cousland: stupid, awful design, honestly they kinda asked to be coup’ed with their garbage unsurvivable castle that supposedly nobody sieges regularly even though it’s literally a death trap. there is ONE main exit, no way to trap your enemies, and only one official guard post that i can see. fuck awful.

harlech castle in wales: it took 115 years for someone to successfully take this castle, and it’s withstood COUNTLESS sieges, you can go visit it right the hell now if you go to wales (not at all getting into the evilness of the english building castles in wales, that’s not the point i’m trying to make.) see how the outside makes it so that even if your enemies breach the walls, to actually reach anyone important they have to survive the volleys of arrows from the ramparts? and then presumably kill everyone ON the ramparts, or the minute you go to open a door or try to drag someone out, you’re going to get shot full of arrows. that’s after breaching TWO heavy doors (which would require a battering ram both times) which would wake up the entire castle LONG before they got anywhere NEAR the heir to the castle’s wife and child.

and before somebody says “oh well kaed maybe you just don’t know your castle building periods very well” think again. i know my castle building periods. that style above is concentric (harlech castle’s initial construction was finished in 1289 and was one of the first finished castles in england in this style,) which came after the keep and bailey style, which came after the motte-and-bailey style, which came after the burh (which arguably WASN’T a castle but whatever,) etc. there are no fortified castles in english history that look like castle cousland, because it’s fucking indefensible. now, this does lead to the question of “oh, well, what is the timeline for the game, maybe there’s something you missed!” so let’s examine the time period of origins:

at the very, very latest, origins could be based off of the BEGINNING of the british “wars of the roses” (the civil wars between the various members of the house plantagenet) which began in the 1450s— this is personally what /i/ think origins is based off of, for a couple reasons. 1) trevelyan was a real person— g.m. trevelyan was a british historian who wrote about the wars of the roses, and in one instance there’s a quote of his the devs almost verbatim used for the design of the free marches: “the Wars of the Roses were to a large extent a quarrel between Welsh Marcher Lords, who were also great English nobles, closely related to the English throne…” they ixnayed the part about the marcher lords being ferelden nobles, i imagine because it was too complicated, but trevelyan? marcher lords? a close relationship with this country? (i.e. like somewhere that might take in their refugees after a catastrophe?) cmon. 2) because ferelden is fucking huge and the histories are kinda weird, because they aren’t 1 for 1, i’m gonna say that we have to use the norman conquest of england as our unification date. in other contexts i wouldn’t try to argue this, but in this one, i’m saying 1066 is the unification date of the anglo-saxon kingdoms into england. calenhad gives us a hard unification date for ferelden— the first landsmeet was in 5:42 exalted, ergo origins is 388 years later. the wars of the roses started in 1455, 389 years after the norman conquest ended. 3) the wars of the roses happened because of a succession crisis— admittedly, these two succession crises are very, very different, but there are definitely parallels between loghain and henry vi and alistair and edward iv. henry vi was crowned at a young age (loghain largely ruled for maric at various points in his life, starting when he was very young,) and was very ineffectual— he suffered from an unknown mental illness which made him extremely unstable and unable to rule for large periods of time. loghain, on the other hand, ruled when the /theirins/ weren’t stable, so you argue he had the opposite— meanwhile, his policies WEREN’T sustainable, whatever you might think of him. loghain is too shaped by his own experiences to be a truly good leader, and by the time his rule/anora’s rule is threatened by cailan, he’s sacrificed enough of his principles that he’s willing to commit atrocities (notably, margaret of anjou ruled during the worst parts of her husband’s mental instability, which again could apply to loghain OR anora, as they ruled fairly jointly after a certain point.) edward iv was the son of richard of york, who was eligible for the throne at a very young age (18 to alistair’s 19) because his father was dead. he was coaxed and led into battle by his cousin, the earl of warwick (also known as the kingmaker— sound like a protagonist you might know?) that’s about where the similarities end, but that’s largely because alistair is a grey warden— if he weren’t, he’d probably be able to have kids and end the question of succession. but he can’t, which, assuming the devs eventually remember, WILL lead to another civil war. hence why i say this is at the BEGINNING of the wars of the roses.

another option that could be argued but makes much less sense and i have no evidence for is that alistair has similarities to edward ii (second son who only became king because his brother died, married a more powerful woman to consolidate power, not very good at ruling, no offense to alistair,) but that still puts origins at like 1307-1327. in either case, they would have been using concentric castles— and given what time period castle cousland was originally built in, it would have been built as a motte-and-bailey, which would NOT have lasted four hundred years. so the castle had to have been rebuilt, and bryce cousland would have had to update that rebuilt castle, because no one lived in it during the orlesian occupation. so where the hell does this winding, weird multi-level design come from?

i GUESS— and this is SO charitable— they could have designed castle cousland based off of a country house design from the mid 1500s, but none of them look like that, either. they’re exclusively rectangular, for one thing, and one of the huge bragging rights of owning one was that they weren’t fortified— they came into fashion during a period of relative stability under the tudor rule, when it was considered guache and maybe even treasonous to build a fortified castle. ferelden is NOWHERE NEAR a period of stability, if anything at the end of origins they’re entering their greatest period of INstability, given what happens in inquisition, and that no matter who ends up on the throne, there’s no way for them to have children. so there’s NO way this castle is a country house, or inspired by one.

leaving us with the final conclusion that a) the game devs definitely did do research into the time period because i can fairly directly trace a line between the event i think inspired origins and the plot, but they didn’t do enough research to figure out what the everloving fuck the BUILDINGS looked like. so these castles make no fucking sense and can’t possibly be called historically accurate even with the fantasy defense, and b) i care WAAAY too much about this for somebody who isn’t even a medieval historian. my area of expertise is the paleolithic, i have no clue why this bugs me so bad i spent four fucking hours writing this post.

[homophyte]

did someone like do a wellness check in mike patton in the early 90s . was he okay

[pitzer]

I love this person

“Occasionally I’ll have a beer after work and break out the sketchbook. But I had wanted to be this great painter. I wanted to do these grand things: big, huge oil paintings. But those days of painting all the time were such a roller coaster. There were these periods of extreme depression, followed by manic states of trying to put myself out there. I couldn’t do it anymore. I mainly felt sorry for my dad. I know it was rough for him. My mom hadn’t wanted me to go to art school. She wanted me to do something more practical, but my dad said: ‘No. This is what he wants to do, and I want to support his dream.’ And then I abandoned it. That was the first time I had to deal with real failure. A lot of times when you’re an artist, it’s your job, it’s your lifestyle, it’s your entire fucking identity. It wasn’t like I failed to do a thing. It was like: I failed to be something, you know? It was a failure to live up to what I thought was my destiny. But then on the other side of that, there was this figuring out that there was nothing wrong with me the entire time. I didn’t need to be something else to have meaningful friendships, or a good relationship. I didn’t need to be something else to be loved and cared about. After work tonight I’m going to meet up with a person who’s in love with me, and I can’t wait. And that person met me long after I gave up on being a full-time artist. They met me when I wasn’t even a chef yet. I was a piss-poor, part-time line cook. But even then, they decided I was worth it. So you know, there’s something there. There’s something there that’s enough.”

[ttsukiimi]

───〃★ C’MERE, BRING THAT D⍣CK HERE .ᐟ

〃★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ⎯ You’ve been a good wife—you really have! But when your husband’s boss confronts you about him cheating with his secretary, you just can’t help but take up his offer to get back at him.

〃★ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⎯ nanami x fem!reader, gojo x fem!reader, Sukuna x fem!reader, geto x fem!reader, cheating (not reader), smut (mdni), exhibitionism (sukuna, gojo), slight n⍣pple play, slight cl⍣t play, slight creamp⍣e (geto), full Nelson (gojo), office s⍣x.

〃★ 𝐚/𝐧 ⎯ I was gonna add toji but realized his broke assss not the boss of anyone🤧

────〃ଘ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 - NICE ‘N SLOW

The wooden legs of his desk scrapped against the floor with every deep thrust, important paperwork scattered all over from how much he had you squirming from his slow, calculated movements. Your nails dug into the wood, scratching and latching onto the edge as your back arched, a cry of pleasure bubbling from your throat.

Was this wrong somehow? No. Your cheating scum of a husband should receive the treatment he’s given you. And you almost wished he’d walk in on the sight of his boss balls deep in his wife. Well, ex-wife, anyway.

Nanami leaned in to your ear and you shivered, feeling his breath fan past your neck, smelling his cologne and—fuck, you could feel his muscles through this suit against your back. “Hope you’ve finally found your worth. He never deserved you.”

His words entered one ear and came out the other with how hazy he had you feeling, cock penetrating you over and over in a cycle that had you feeling delirious. Your head spun, and the world seemed to blur from existence—except for Nanami; his hands, his words, his voice.

“I’ll make you feel better—cum better than he ever has.”

────〃ଘ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 - I’LL DO IT INSTEAD

Now, Satoru had always had his eyes on you. From the very first moment you came into the office, bringing your husband his forgotten lunch, he knew he had to have you. The whole interaction left him feeling bitter anyway—he only waved you off after he grabbed his lunch and refused to kiss you in front of his colleagues.

What kind of man was he?

Satoru had no problem fucking you in front of him, though.

You watched your husband’s wide eyes, embarrassed but basking in your sweet revenge. A smirk graced Satoru’s lips, his own focused on your husband’s flickering gaze from how he split your cunt open so lewdly to your bouncing tits as if in a trance.

“‘S how’s it feel? Watching your pretty little wife get ruined?” He breathed, strong arms folding you further into the full Nelson position he had you locked in. “You turned on, hm? Seein’ her lil’ cunt get fucked?”

Your eyes closed and your tongue lolled out, head thrown back onto Satoru’s shoulder as your hand came down to pinch your pulsing clit in circles.

Satoru peppered kisses upon your jawline and stopped by your ear. “Why don’t you tell him how good ‘m making you feel?”

────〃ଘ 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 - DO IT BETTER!

You’d always had your eye out for your husband’s particularly hot and intimidating boss, though you’d always stray your gaze away from him out of respect and loyalty. Respect and loyalty that your husband never seemed to reciprocate.

And when his boss finally confirmed that he was cheating on you—you’d finally given into your fantasy of fucking him.

But this isn’t how you imagined your fantasy would go.

Everyone’s eyes were glued to you, either out of fear of what Sukuna would do or out of pure infatuation from how wet your cunt was. You sat on Sukuna’s lap, legs spread open for anyone and everyone to see—even your spouse whose face was a mix of anger and confusion.

He didn’t have the right to be mad right now.

You were almost about to curse him out when Sukuna slid in with one swift thrust. Your breath caught in your throat, tears already welling in your eyes as he began to move without giving you even a second to adjust to his abnormal size.

He bounced you on his lap, heavy balls smacking against your ass so loudly it resonated throughout the meeting room. His big hands groped your chest though your blouse, practically ripping it off you.

“I’ll show you fuckers how to properly fuck a pretty lil’ thing like her.”

────〃ଘ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 - LIKE YOU DESERVE

Heat creeped up into your face. You hadn’t expected your day to amount to anything—considering your husband’s boss had told you about his affair just a day before—but there you were, sat on the same man’s lap as he fucked up into your cunt.

I’ll fuck you like you deserve. Those were his words—the words that got you here in the first place.

Suguru’s fingers toyed with the hood of your clit, pinching the nub of nerves in such a gentle yet pleasurable way that had shocks of electricity rocking through you. Your legs shook and quivered with how wide he had you spread them, muscles beginning to feel sore after some amount of time.

But Suguru hadn’t had his fill yet, he had to show you—make you feel what your husband couldn’t do to your body. So, with his cock still pumping in and out of you recklessly, two fingers entered your mouth while his unoccupied hand pinched and twisted your hardened nipples.

“Suck,” he ordered, and you did. It was almost embarrassing how fast you complied, wrapping your tongue around his thick digits as you suckled on them, excess saliva dribbling down your chin.

And it was all so lewd. The ring of cum coating his cock from both your multiple orgasms, your red and pulsing clit, your moans—and shit. If Suguru knew one thing it was one thing only; he would keep his promise and fuck you like you deserve.