#same person - same jokes - same opinions- but taking up space as a woman is a good thing

[ticifics]

Home Charm

James Potter x f!reader

Summary: James Potter, the devoted and loving father, transforms every moment into magic and love with his enchanted family.

Warnings: none

A/N: anon, hope you like it <333

Masterlist

• James loves making you laugh and uses every opportunity to tease you in a cute way. He might steal a kiss in the middle of an argument or tickle you until you beg for mercy. Life with him is always light and fun.

• He deeply values your partnership. For any important decision, he always checks with you first, making it clear that your opinion is the most important to him.

• James never misses a chance to steal a kiss. Whether you’re in the middle of a sentence, distracted with a book, or even complaining about something, he simply can’t resist. “You had that irresistible look, love, I had to do it,” he says with a mischievous smile, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

• James is such a soft dad that just hearing the kids say “dada” for the first time made him emotional. He tells everyone about it — Sirius had lost count of how many times he’d heard the same story. “My kid said I’m the best dad in the world yesterday. I’m not saying it’s true, but I’m not denying it either,” he jokes with a smile that lights up his entire face.

• If one of the kids mentions liking something, even if it’s a small detail, James jumps into action. “You like chocolate frogs? Great, now we have an entire collection.” He fills the shopping cart with anything he thinks the kids will love, only realizing the excess when you laugh while trying to find space in the house to store everything.

• For James, physical touch is a form of love. He wraps his arm around your waist whenever you’re together, as if he needs to make sure you’re there. When you’re cooking, he leans against the counter just to watch, but never without first running his hands over your shoulders or waist. He pulls you close with the excuse of “needing to taste something” you’re making, but in reality, he just wants you in his arms.

• He has the habit of complimenting you out of nowhere, especially in public, as if he can’t hold back how he feels. “Are you all seeing this? How did I marry the most beautiful woman in the world?” he jokes with his friends, but his look is completely serious. You might roll your eyes, but the sparkle in his smile always melts you.

• James has a smile unlike any other, one he reserves only for you. It’s the kind of smile that makes it feel like you’re the only person in the world who matters, full of tenderness and adoration.

• Even without music, James finds an excuse to make you twirl around the room. Whether it’s after a long day or just because he thinks you need a smile, he takes your hand and leads you in an exaggerated way, as if you’re the stars of a ballroom. When you protest, he just laughs and insists, saying, “You know I won’t stop until I get a smile, right?”

• He has the habit of pulling you into a long kiss, especially when you’re in a rush to leave. “Just one more, please,” he asks, pressing his forehead against yours after, still a little out of breath and with shiny lips. Of course, this results in you both being late more often than you’d like, but who can resist him?

• He loves it when you wear his clothes, especially his sweaters and shirts. When he notices you’re cold, he doesn’t wait for you to ask — he just wraps you in one of his huge coats and puts his arms around you like a human blanket. “Much better this way, don’t you think?” he whispers in your ear, though it doesn’t take long before he removes his clothes from you.

• The king of excuses to hug you. “You don’t look comfortable in that chair,” he comments, pulling you onto his lap with ease. “You know what would be better? Sitting here.” He does this anywhere: in the living room, the backyard, showering your neck with kisses that fluster you.

• James knows exactly how to make you laugh, even on the toughest days. He might mimic voices, make faces, or even create hilarious imaginary scenes with objects around. His goal, he swears, is always to hear you laugh, because “if you’re laughing, I’m winning at life.���

• When you’re sick or tired, James becomes your loving caretaker. He brings tea, makes soup, and wraps you in blankets. “You just need to tell me what you want, my love, and I’ll do it,” he insists, even if his soup attempt ends up being more funny than delicious.

• James loves telling the story of the day he met you. He does it with such enthusiasm that it feels like he’s reliving the moment every time, emphasizing how you captivated him right away. “I knew from that instant I was lost,” he confesses, while you roll your eyes, but your heart races anyway.

• No matter how tired he is, James never forgets to give you a kiss before bed. He pulls you close, whispers something sweet or funny, and kisses your forehead, cheek, and finally your lips. “Good night, my life,” he says with so much affection that it feels like you’re in the arms of the whole world.

• When the kids scribble on the house walls, you try to be firm about the rules, but James shows up with a mischievous look. “You know, they were just expressing their creativity,” he argues while trying to scrub the marks. In the end, he ends up sitting in time-out with them, admitting that “he was an accomplice to the art.”

• During your pregnancy, James had the habit of lying next to you and talking to the baby, even when it seemed silly. He would talk about how excited he was to meet the baby, or make up funny stories about teaching the baby to fly. When he felt the baby move, his eyes would shine in a way that made you fall even more in love.

• Before bed, James turns simple stories into epic adventures. He does all the voices for the characters, makes exaggerated gestures, and even creates a soundtrack with light spells. Even if the kids are exhausted, they always ask for “just one more story, daddy.”

• When you say no to something the kids want, James does his best to negotiate on their behalf. “Love, they just want to build a fort in the middle of the living room. And look, they’ve already assigned me as the troll guarding the entrance. I can’t disappoint my adventurers,” he says with an irresistible look.

• Even on days when the kids make a mess or are in a bad mood, James stays calm. He believes every behavior has a reason and prefers to resolve things with conversations and playfulness rather than scolding. When one of the kids cries, he immediately sits next to them, saying, “It’s okay, champ. What’s wrong? Daddy’s here.”

• James never misses a chance to shower the kids with affection. He hugs them, kisses their cheeks, and messes up their hair. “You know I love you, right?” he says daily, because he believes it’s important for them to grow up knowing how adored they are.

• James loves creating little traditions. Every Friday night, he organizes “pajama parties” in the living room, where you watch Muggle movies (courtesy of Remus) and eat enchanted popcorn that changes flavor. At Christmas, he always dresses up as Santa, even though the kids already know it’s him.

• He completely surrenders to playtime. If that means getting covered in paint or glitter, James doesn’t mind. To him, the kids’ laughter is worth any effort. Later, he makes sure to help them clean up, singing made-up songs to make the moment fun.

• James makes sure to emphasize how amazing the kids are. “Did you know you’re the smartest wizard that ever existed?” or “That was the most impressive defense I’ve ever seen in a Quidditch match! And trust me, I’ve seen a lot of Quidditch.” He believes every day is a new chance to make the kids feel special.

• James makes sure to show you how much he loves you in front of the kids. He says “I love your mom” whenever he can, believing this will teach them what a healthy relationship looks like. He believes raising kids in a home full of love and laughter is the greatest gift he can give them.

[littlemspeachy]

Crazy To Love You

(Feyd x Reader)

Summary: You hated him. You hated his planet. You were the sun and the stars. Of warmth and gold. Yet, for some reason, you do find black appealing.

Note: While this is a reader insert, there are mentions of brown skin, but other than that, it's fairly neutral

Warnings: 18+ content near the end but nothing explicit, mentions of blood and use of the word whore.

Word Count: 2.35K

Part II

---------

Everyone said there was something complex about him. About the man you were about to marry. In her opinion, there was nothing complex about the man. He was easy to figure out and it didn't take a shrink to realize that. He was violent and cold. Obsessed with blood and the cries of a man he knew he was about to kill. 

He was nothing special and yet here you were getting ready to get sent away.

"You are to marry him." Lady Jessica coolly responded while she watched your maids put the finishing jewelry into your hair and bodice. 

You stared at her from the reflection of your vanity mirror. 

"You don't get better than this. You're a daughter of your fathers' whore-" She started angrily. 

"Get out of my head. The least you could do is that." You snapped before the Reverend Mother walked through the door. 

"I don't understand how you managed to raise such a disobedient child," The older woman dragged. 

"And child I don't understand how you could be so stupid." She said smacking you on the back of your head. 

You sighed and stared at yourself in the mirror before applying lining your lips with a soft brown and filling the rest of the empty space with a dark red. And no, you weren't stupid to not know what was going on. Lady Jessica messed up and bore a son and so in the eyes of the Reverend Mother, you were the best choice. You were still of the Duke's blood and by marrying the na-baron and producing an heir you would bring the houses together and create a perfect union. You knew this, you knew this ever since you came of age. You knew it more and more in every etiquette lesson. 

Raised like cattle for slaughter. Or not slaughter but more so for breeding. 

 A knock on your chambers broke you from your thought process, you looked to your door to see your brother peek into the room. 

"He's here." 

You sent the young man a small smile before standing and heading out with Lady Jessica and the Reverend. 

Your ladies-in-waiting walked silently behind you with your luggage in hand. They too knew of the rumors of the man you were bound to marry. The grotesque nature of his uncle and family. 

The warmth of the sun warmed your skin, but it didn't seem to reach past it. You had known these halls all your life. Stared at the paintings and art that decorated the walls. You'll miss the yellow of the sun that allowed your brown to become even richer in the warmer months. 

When you were younger your nursed like to joke that if there were goddesses you had to have been the child of the sun. Unfortunately, today proved that no such being existed because why would she curse her child to a polluted waste land with a sun as black as night. 

They arrived at large doors to the negotiation room. Guards of both families lining the walls. You followed the two older women into the room while your ladies-in-waiting stayed outside. 

 You sat next to Paul and across from your husband to be. 

Feyd was... Not stunned no. Not amused either. He had heard about you as a child and adolescent and even met you at some point in those years. Yet here he was, intrigued. You looked almost entirely out of place and in place at the same time. He could tell you were strong willed, but then again, any man in the room could tell that. 

You sat with your back straight and head high. Your eye's moved to each person as they spoke. 

As much as he would never admit it. You were beautiful. Not seductive, not sensual. You were beautiful. You're skin complimentary to the gold in your hair and the gold threads in your bodice. Your skin shined in the lazy afternoon sun. Your lips plump and decorated in red. You were stunning. 

"Then it is settled. You two will be wed by the next full moon," Feyds uncle rasped, a greedy smile upon his lips while he stared at you intently. 

"Come it is getting late and we must make our way back. Have her maids put her items on our ship. There's to be a solar disturbance. And I don't want to be here longer than I need to, this heat is starting to annoy me." 

You swallowed intensely. "No." 

All eyes snapped to you. Feyd tilted his head slightly to the side in curiosity. 'A fighter' he mused. This should be interested. 

"I have never been Giedi Prime, and since I am to be married in a week, I would like my family to join me, a proper wedding, and an introduction to your culture and customs. There is more than enough time to organize my request." You stared at the two leading men at the table. Inside you were shaking and fearing the worse. While you still had enough status to marry into a High Family, it didn't take away the fact that you were born out of wedlock. But fortunately, your voice stayed strong and didn't betray your nerves. 

Lady Jessica started to open her mouth to reprimand her but was cut off by laughter. Well, it was more of a bark but humor present, nonetheless. 

"I agree to your terms, child." Feyd's uncle said staring at you.

"I do not understand." Lady Jessica muttered staring at you in horror. 

"This will either be the greatest match in all the high families. Or the worst thing to come from your House." 

You bite the inside of your cheek, jaw flaring. The handshakes and contracts were signed. 

You walked silently and quickly to the informal meeting place of your home. Maids scrambling to get other items for your family and to leave promptly. Lady Jessica hot on your tail and delivered a quick slap to your face when you turned around. 

"How dare you embarrass us like this." 

"Not to intrude on family... matters... But as she is my bride, I'd prefer if you don't leave marks on her. That should be my job soon enough." A voice said boredly. 

She whipped her head to look behind her and stared at the pale man behind her. Before gritting her teeth, giving a small curtsy and walking out quickly. 

"It's impolite for us to be together without a chaperone." You stated. Eyes following his every move. You didn't trust him. How could you? He was a bloody murder, that craved blood and bones. You would consider him uncivilized if it wasn't for the fact that he came from a royal bloodline. 

"Hmm, you see something you like?" 

You squeezed your dress in your hand to stop you from being annoyed and rolling your eyes.

"You know I heard you were sweet. Demure. But you seem to like a fight." 

"A fight that was not, my lord. Just a request. I am to be whisked away to a place where I am nobody and have no rights outside of you. So yes, requesting my family and have a civil wedding, is the most basic request." 

He gave you a smirk. Him slowly getting close to you, almost like a snake. "You sure are mouthy, I hope it's the same on our wedding night." He whispered, closely to your ear. 

His hot breath sending a chill up your spine. You watched him walk past you to the window. He was incredibly pale and hairless. No blemish or scar in sight. Was that genetics or cosmetic you would never know. How dark was it on his planet to make someone so pale? Paul was pale, but his skin warmed and tanned during the warmer months.

You glowed in the sun; you understood the sun. The sun gave light, it gave colors. A black sun... Would strip things of light. Nothing exists in a sun like that. 

The reality of your situation started to bare its weight on your shoulders. You knew why they needed the marriage to work, you knew why you needed to produce an heir. It would create an alliance forged in blood, it would tie your two kingdoms together and prevented them from going to war. It would protect your kingdoms economy and exports. But why a place so cold in dark. How were you to live? To raise a child or children. How were you going to raise your children. With dreams and fantasies of a kingdom they'll never know. Shall they become their father? Murderous and craving madness and death? 

You let in a deep breath, to help settle you. You were to be married and have a child. That's it. You were raised to do so and do it you will. Nothing more, nothing less. 

"We are ready for departure your majesties." A voice rang through the room.

You nodded at the man before taking a look back at Feyd and realizing that he's been staring at you the whole time. 

The next few days were spent learning about their "castle", which in your opinion was a bland fortress meant to keep people out and in.  The days were spent watching bloody sparring matches in preparation for his big fight and preparing for the wedding. 

Skin was cleaned and body was scrubbed clean. Herbs and foods to increase fertility feed three times a day. Lessons on how to "please a man" in way too much detail. Nothing like what you expected your wedding day to look like. When you were younger you imagined white dresses and days of getting to know your soon to be husband by the waves. Intimate and flushed glances at each other over dinner. Excitement and butterflies. And all there was to greet you was darkness. Black suns and pale heads greeted you at every corner. You prayed your child you look more like you. Or at least a mix. 

 You woke up to the sound of your sun alarm. You're glad you brought it with you. It imitated actual sun light and reminded you of home and warmth. You cuddled back into the pillows when you realized your maids weren't there. Breakfast and a long intensive bath could wait. You hardly did anything and yet had intensive baths every morning and night. After five days you were surprised, you had any skin left. 

Feyd watched you silently doze off again, perched away in a corned you have not seem to realize. He chuckled lightly at the last time you fully conversed. 'Not polite.' What he was going to do in one days' time wouldn't be very polite to her parents either. 

He watched you as you walked softly to the vanity you had set up in your room. It was simply a desk and a small mirror, but it worked for what it was. For what you had access too. 

You hummed lightly to yourself as you took your scarf off your head and took out the rollers. The maids given to you had no idea what they were doing when it came to your hair. It was the last thing that you had for yourself... Only yourself. 

Feyd walked over silently, almost leaning down to your ear whipping backwards and grabbing your wrist. 

No words were said, outside of the sound of heavy breathing. 

The two of you stared intensely at each other before the man's eyes wondered over to the knife in your hand. Sharp and ready to sink into the next victim. 

He raised what you assumed would've been a brow if he wasn't hairless. 

"Did you intend to kill me." 

"It didn't matter if it was you. The knife was intended for whomever decided to get that close to me without out announcing themselves." You spat. 

He smirked at you, "So you do know how to take care of yourself."

"My father didn't raise a stupid damsel."

"Very clearly he didn't." 

You two stared at each other before he went and bite your collarbone. A guttural groan coming from his throat as he smelt your rose body oils from the night before. 

You gasped, shocked, your hand dropping the knife and your body arching towards his. A surprising mix of sharp pain and pleasure dancing through your body to your fingertips. 

"I thought you hated me?" He whispered grabbing your chin and forcing you to keep eye contact. 

Truth be told as much as you hated his home, his planet, the whole preparation of practically being wedded purely for alliance reasons. You got used to the idea of being his. 

He was smart and quick on his feet. Intelligent and willing to amuse your intellectual ideas. He let you fight him and berate him when you were alone. He guarded you and defended you. And he was taken with you the moment he met you. Many women were raised to be obedient, silent, and just take what was given to them. If he was going to become the Baron one day he'd need a woman that was going to raise his children to be strong. Your union was perfect, anything that he lacked you had. 

"I hate you invading my space. If you wanted to come you could've asked or at least told me." You stated. A terrible and needy heat starting to fill your body. 

He smirked at you before crashing your lips together. Teeth and tongue clashing in a battle of dominance. His hands threading through your hair and yours finally getting the relief of feeling his body. 

You broke away to breath, head being lifted by the upwards pull of your hair. 

"I would love to continue this but, this is impolite, remember." He said breathlessly, backing up slowly. 

You stared back at him. Becoming painfully aware of the want in your core and the electricity running through your body needing release. 

"Fuck you." 

Feyd laughed at your temper tantrum before leaving your room and leaving you to deal with the mess he started. 

[shiraglassman]

Hey, I know this is kind of a dumb question, but I came across a TikTok about a month ago suggesting that dragons (the western, fire breathing, princess snatching, treasure hoarding ones) were rooted in antisemitic in the same way something like goblins are. I couldn’t tell if it was a joke or not, and it kind of sent me into a tailspin, since I’ve always loved dragons (I read the WoF series ONCE and wouldn’t shut up about it for 3 years), and I was worried that I would have to drop them entirely for fear of offending someone. I can definitely see the similarities between common antisemitic tropes and dragon tropes, but I’ve always heard that the origins of the western dragon were that it was just a scalier of the devil and not meant to represent any marginalized community. However, I am not Jewish in any way, and I’m aware it’s not my place to dictate what is and isn’t harmful, so I was curious as to what you thought. (Sorry about how long this is TuT)

I held on to this ask for a few weeks to try to make sure my response made sense, so here goes. Disclaimer that I'm just one Jewish woman who loves dragons, and I claim no expertise or position of authority. I can't guarantee that someone won't look at your special interests and judge you unfairly. I also can't guarantee that you'll be hyperaware enough and careful enough to catch dogwhistles if they're subtle, compared with ordinary fictional dragons. What I can guarantee is that your average Jewish person is not going to assume you are more unsafe to be around than other unknown gentiles just because you like dragons, but fandom spaces and Tumblr spaces sometimes represent a skewed or specific cross-section of the population and may react differently. I can't make any of those calls. I don't want to tell you to start tuning out marginalized people when we speak about our issues including bad representation, but I also don't think "every Western dragon" is a problem the same way the entire perception of Halloween witches is, for example. For "some reason" (antisemitism) we've decided that big hooked noses are a thing you strap to your face to fake being a witch, or the way witches look in clip art. This is an issue because it takes a simple, neutral feature that some of us have and exaggerates it to the point of looking nonhuman. "Ha ha," says the trope. "Wouldn't it be funny if this trait that these Others have was so different and so jarring in appearance that they looked as different as they truly are, from us, the In Group?"

If the same group of folks who had anxiety about us coexisting alongside them created the witch aesthetic as created the Western dragon lore, and indeed much of old-fashioned European fantasy, it's easy to see how their feelings about us an other marginalized groups (disabled people etc.) creep into the stories. HOWEVER, it's also incredibly easy for dragons to not be us. Or have anything to do with us. If you're nervous when writing your own stories that someone is going to mistake your greedy characters for Jewish-coded, try to establish that real (human or otherwise) Jewish characters coexist with the greedy dragon or whatever to show that you're not using the dragon as a subconscious Jewish reference. But if you're talking about just "can I continue to buy dragon merch from creators who draw cute art", the only thing I can tell you is that there's an intense diversity of opinion among the Jewish people and even though I'm saying it's fine and probably most people at my temple would say it's fine, I can't account for strangers on apps I don't even have. Personally, I think you're safe as long as you avoid dragon things that evoke the trope directly. And many MANY dragons don't even evoke the trope these days, because so many millennials and younger grew up adoring dragons so we launched media where dragons are good. And don't even always hoard wealth. Much of modern dragon media seems to ignore the greedy and/or hoarding tropes entirely or have replaced greed as a motivator for the collections with "this dragon has a special interest", which is cute and doesn't evoke antisemitic tropes at all. You'll probably be able to make good judgments about what does the trope and what doesn't, but for some additional help here is a post Meir and I did on @writingwithcolor, which is where we'd prefer these questions be directed (yes, I know we're closed currently but we're reopening soon.) P.S. If this was sent to my personal specifically to avoid the WWC ask box being closed, please don't — that's an amount of volunteer work I simply can't take on. But I also know that it's possible and likely that you didn't know about WWC at all, so now you do — feel free to peruse our vast archives of past posts. @im-tired1124

[transmascpetewentz]

The reason that transandrophobia is a real, systemic oppression is because both transphobia and misogyny are forces of systemic oppression that greatly affect the lives of transmascs. Misandry need not exist for transandrophobia to; what I call transandrophobia is the intersection of transphobia and misogyny that affects transmascs, as well as anyone perceived to be transmasc or transmasc-adjacent.

I would also argue that transandrophobia usually refers to the way that a combination of transphobia and misogyny are used to speak over transmascs, take away our autonomy, and treat us like objects who don't have opinions on everything that affects us. It's the way that some of us, usually those of us who primarily date cis women, try to be "one of the good ones." It's the way that everyone is immediately suspicious of us being incels, especially if we aren't attracted to women.

It's the way that we are constantly forced into the role of a woman: how we're expected to put up with forcefem "jokes," detransition "jokes," corrective rape "jokes," and other such "jokes." If we don't let people walk all over us, calling us feminine terms, reminding us of our place, that's toxic masculinity. We can't have any relationship to womanhood, either, or else we're creepy men invading women's spaces. But if we reject womanhood entirely, if we exist as men who only love other men; then we're basically the same as MGTOW guys! /s

The difference between us and MRAs is that MRAs are straight, white, and usually able bodied and neurotypical. Meanwhile, transmasc-centered feminists tend to be neurodivergent and/or disabled gay trans men, and there seems to be a good mix of different ethnicities and cultural backgrounds speaking up. The MRA comparison doesn't work because when MRAs don't want to take women seriously, it is from a place of misogyny and often straight privilege. Gay trans men that don't worship cis women in every way are just guys who are tired of being forced to be women. There is a big difference here.

A lot of this new discourse is very much "gay men are more likely than straight men to be misogynists because they don't even like women!" repackaged, except it's not even repackaged. You just added "trans" to the beginning of everything! I don't know why I have to explain to queer discourse Tumblr in the year 2023 that not being attracted to women when you're a man doesn't inherently contribute to misogyny and patriarchy.

Gay trans men aren't making a choice to leave the Good Pure Women's Team and join the Horrible Evil Incel Faggots. Kill the radfem in your brain that believes that queer male identity and sexuality is inherently oppressive. Kill the homophobe in your brain that believes gay men need a woman in their lives to prevent them from going off the deep end. Kill the biphobe in your brain that believes that the only moral thing for an m-spec man to do is to date a good pure woman.

Transitioning is not a calculated choice for the vast majority of transmascs. I do not owe any cis woman the rest of my life spent in emotional pain due to dysphoria in order to make her happy that I'm not one of Those People. No one owes anyone else suppression of their personal identity and desires for gender expression in order to serve someone else's political framework. If your social or political framework does not include someone's identity, that is a problem with your framework, not their identity.

Gay trans men are not predators. Putting "trans" in front of your homophobia doesn't make it less homophobic.

[rearranged-fanfic]

New Chapter, Ah Yeah!

Excerpts below the cut

(Spoilers, duh)

Excerpt 1:

“What’s going on?”  Honestly, I’m not sure I want to know. Akemi smiles pleasantly.  “Settling a difference of opinion.” “On my front porch?” I inquire dryly. At that moment, Takuma’s eyes get wide and he points at me, excitement coloring his tone.  “Oh, you’re outside by yourself!  Heck yeah!” “My wardens decided to lessen my sentence a bit.” “’Bout time!” he crows, delighted.  “Thought you were gonna die of boredom if you stayed locked up much longer.” “Well, it was either that or killing them for entertainment.”  I shrug nonchalantly, like I hadn’t just inserted murderous intentions into a normal conversation.  I wait for them to take that as a joke and laugh, but they just kind of look at the ground awkwardly. …Okay?  They’re acting weird. “Don’t you attract Spirits, though?  Are you safe?” Akemi points out. And when I pull out the charm that Gojo gave me, Takuma elbows forward to take the glass bead in his palm.  His eyebrows scrunch up cutely and he leans in super close.  All Sorcerers apparently abhor personal space. Which is all well and good until Beans launches herself from my cleavage in a sneak attack, clasping onto the younger teen’s face with her wings.  Takuma lets out an undignified ‘eep’, scrambling backwards.  That’s what he gets for muscling his way into my bubble.  If only Beans could do that to Gojo—I’d have the ultimate protector, saving me form touchy-feely weirdos. He pulls the Shiki off, sucking in air and fanning himself like a dainty woman about to faint. Beans comes back to rest on the top of my head, planting herself on my crown and letting out a tiny, angry roar.  I reach up to stroke under her chin with my finger.  Good beans, I think affectionately.  Takuma finally collects himself, even as his sister has to hold her gut form laughing at his misfortune. “You have a charm like Ieiri,” the young Sorcerer notes.  I immediately note the lack of honorific, but don’t really think much of it.  Instead, it’s his words that get my attention. I peer down at the blue bead.  “She has one too, huh?”  I guess that makes sense; Gojo is all about fiercely guarding the two people he actually cares about in this world.  And now he’s offered the same protection to his precious little informant.  I should feel privileged, but him walking in on my masturbation session because of this little charm still lives in my head rent free. “It’s on her wrist,” he says, gesturing to his own. I think back and try to remember if I’d noticed a bracelet before, but I’m not really that observant.  At least I know to ask about it next time she pops up, I guess.  It’d be nice to know exactly what this charm can do, beside allow Gojo to be the world’s most efficient stalker-slash-cockblock. I shake my head to clear out the fuzz and offer my guests a little grin.  “So, what brings you guys here?” “Oh, Ma told us to come check—” Akemi throws her hand over her brother’s mouth, cutting him off.  “To check to see if you could help me with something!” she says a bit too excitedly. “What do you need help with?” I ask, distrust laced through my words. “I’m having trouble in English class, and I know that it’s your first language.  Do you think you can help me?” Uh huh.  Well, that’s not suspicious at all.  They’re clearly here to appease their mom.  And they’re fibbing about it. I cross my arms and raise a single eyebrow questioningly, doubt painted over my features.  Akemi holds up what looks to be a backpack, shaking it as though in offering.  Clever, bringing an item to use as an excuse.  The other young woman puts on her best puppy dog face, making her green eyes appear large and watery all while her lower lip quivers ever so slightly. I’m a sucker, I think with resignation as I step aside to welcome them in.

Excerpt 2:

I pinch off a section of cake, offering it to her as tribute.  The sweet treat is quickly gobbled up, and she sniffs at my fingers for more.  I roll my eyes at the gluttonous Shiki and give her another sizeable chunk.  This one, she eats a little slower.  And when she’s done, she gives me a friendly nip at the tip of my thumb and a sweet chirp.  Content with the cake for now, she curls up around my throat and prepares to sleep.  I note that she bites her own tail so that she doesn’t slip off backwards. I have a living necklace, I think.  When I pat her, she wriggles to get closer to me, letting out a contented sigh. Somebody’s affectionate today. Then again, she’s been clingy since this morning for whatever reason. Rolling my eyes at the silly creature, I peer down at my phone.  Time to see what’s up next on my adventure.  I scroll for a few minutes, listening to the whistling snores that my Shiki puts off like it’s the most soothing music known to man. A shadow falls over me, blocking the light, but I ignore it.  Until somebody clears their throat. “Excuse me, Miss.”  I think I’ve heard the voice before, but I’m not quite sure where.  Maybe he’s another friendly character from the manga? Then I roll my eyes at the thought.  Yeah, right.  What are the odds of meeting another manga character in a city as bis as Tokyo?   He’s probably just some dude that I’ve met in passing—maybe the clerk at the hotel I stayed at my first night here?

[clonerightsagenda]

i would love to hear anything more about communications director minkowski that you would care to share, it sounds like a very fun route for postcanon! 👀

It IS very fun. In lieu of writing a coherent post I just spent quite a bit of time scrolling through 3 years of discord messages for good tidbits:

Gill spent part of my day wondering “you know you’d expect Lovelace to have some Loud And Pointed Opinions about Minkowski being offered the post of Communications Director but maybe instead she’d be the first to figure out there’s no better way to dismantle the company than from the inside out” Kat If you want a job done wrong you gotta do it yourself Gill Minkowski: They… want me to be the next director… and I think I’m going to take the job. Lovelace: …actually. That sounds like an amazing idea. Minkowski: Minkowski: who are you and what have you done with Captain Lovelace Kat Careful Renee. That joke has a bit of an edge to it Gill Nobody’s getting out of post-flight quarantine without an identity crisis of some kind it seems Kate I bet Lovelace would jump at the chance to have a woman on the inside… who has a lot of practice ruining Goddard's plans. Gill Lovelace, probably: You’re gonna need your own version of Cutter’s hypercompetent Right Hand Minion, and it seems to me that the person who kept him distracted while you put a harpoon through his torso would be the ideal candidate. Lovelace: Also, it’d be fun to deface Kepler’s old office.

*

Kat was thinking about Minkowski marriage drama in the context of her voluntarily signing on to be comms director under the same contract as the last one fully aware this means everyone will try to kill her just in case she can keep everyone else safe and then having to explain that to her husband tfw your wife never prioritizes you bc she's too busy prioritizing a) dying in space b) dying on land now Gill Dominik Koudelka, maybe: it just feels like I have to get myself kidnapped by shadowy corporate goons if I want to spend time with you!

*

Kate Communications Director Minkowski 1) definitely publishes her own adapted fifth edition of the Survival Manual that’s not a joke and full of useful things and 2) mostly inspired by things Eiffel did that his justification was “well no one ever TOLD me this would happen in space!” Gill “Leprechauns are not real. Ghosts, however, are.” “In the unlikely but theoretically possible event that leprechauns are discovered at some point in the near future, disregard previous. It’s important to keep an open mind.” Kate Adaptability! Flexibility! Priorities! Acknowledgement that space is full of unpredictable and incomprehensible bullshit! The spirit of the new space age Gill Tip #1002: You may say “fuck”. Once.

*

Kat thought: re Goddard possibly having prison labor going on, maybe when they got Eiffel out of jail they just transferred his sentence to them, and Comms Director Minkowski finds out she technically owns two of her crewmates now and isn't super happy about it Eiffel: so for the next 23 years my ass is yours I guess Minkowski: I don't want it Minkowski, sifting through paperwork: why… why do I own prison laborers now? Can I pardon them? What is this news anchor voice: Goddard Futuristics stocks dipped today as new director Renee Minkowski gave the entirety of their asteroid mining staff early release, quoted as saying "Go home. The fuck." Gill Comms Director Minkowski like ok first off we’re actually giving our workers benefits Kat we'll reroute some of the money headed toward all the R&D for evil shit Gill we’re also defunding our paramilitary branches. Why do we even have those?? Kat Jacobi, raising hand: To do stuff like break into Elon Musk's Mars colony and take him out with extreme prejudice Lovelace: ok that one sounds justified actually Gill Lovelace: Can I go fuck up Elon Musk’s stupid libertarian summer camp? Minkowski: Later, I need you here right now. Lovelace: Aw, ok. ): Kate Okay project Fuck Up Elon Musk can stay

*

Kat underappreciated aspect of the comms director Minkowski concept: DC girl Minkowski finds out she now owns like 75% of the politicians on Capitol Hill. Is not sure how to stop owning them It's like feeding wild animals, they keep coming back for your money even when you try to cut off the lobbying Gill Minkowski: next time a senator shows up at my house I’m siccing Lovelace on them Kat Minkowski: Cutter had an entire budget line for funding ballot initiatives and…. wow, that's a lot. Hey Doug, what are your thoughts on felons being able to vote? Eiffel: Felons can't vote? Minkowski: …. yes?? Eiffel: Oh. Huh. I don't ever vote so I didn't notice. And I see from your expression that you don't approve of this.

*

Gill Comms Director!Minkowski: If you need me, I’ll be in a meeting. /crawls into the vents Kat Local unions still talk about the super weird HVAC remodeling the new director insisted on

*

Gill You are an astronautical engineer at Goddard Futuristics’ special projects division. You were handpicked by the special projects manager herself to work on this new prototype. The craft you and your colleagues poured untold hours of work into is commandeered by Warren Kepler, Legendary Local Douchebag, and two of his minions (an entire ship! For three people!!) to go off and babysit one of your boss’s boss’s ultra-secret pet projects, which you quietly believe is actually an elaborate fraud scheme of some kind. You rage at this. Then, you mourn. Perhaps you drink heavily. Either way, you move on, setting aside your quiet hope that the Urania one day re-enters terrestrial skies, but gradually making peace with the idea you may never see this particular fruit of your labor again. And then a year and a half later you get it back and the interior is just plastered in printer paper that looks like a brigade of toddlers just went nuts on it with their crayons. And also your boss is dead and the apparent leader of said toddlers is the new communications director. Kat Hey at least the astronautical engineering division can feel vindicated that that shuttle a few years back didn't malfunction Gill Engineer: So that shuttle didn’t malfunction and Cutter was actively orchestrating a fake explosion and cover-up. Then he sent Warren “Oh just let me fire off this prototype in a civilian area” Kepler and his goon squad up in our prototype to go fuck around with you guys some more. Minkowski: Yup. Engineer: And you killed him. Minkowski: …yes. Engineer: …did you kill him painfully? Tell me it was painfully. (Minkowski is mildly worried about how she acquires some of her new supporters) Kat Lots of long simmering resentment Kate I imagine she gets a lot of goodwill points for taking out Cutter and Kepler… imagine

*

Kat comms director Minkowski having to do tax fraud to protect her team somehow Gill Jacobi, having just another day in the office, doing taxes: god this is so dull, I hate tax season. I wonder if Minkowski’s gone and holed up in the accounting department, she probably lives for this kind of thing. /smash cut to Minkowski threatening an IRS agent at harpoon-point Kat Minkowski making Hera her own LLC so she has rights now: This is legal according to Citizens United as long as no one looks at it too closely (my dad became an LLC today so he can contract with his work after he retires. I joked he will be the last person able to vote in the household once they take everyone else's rights away but corporations are people) Gill “Minkowski Commits Tax Fraud” would be an amazing chapter title for a fic at some point though Kat Minkowski early in the mission diligently doing her taxes in space because she's a good American citizen Minkowski like 5 years later: fuck capitalism Gill That one meme image but it’s, Minkowski: You mean the game was rigged all along? Minkowski @ herself: always has been. Kate This is my strongest Minkowski belief Gill Minkowski: wow, capitalism sucks, and growing up in a Soviet satellite state was also awful. Perhaps… the true problem… is giving people the power to wholly dictate other people’s lives…

*

Kat after the story of the Hephaestus crew breaks and they're famous Eiffel gets Minkowski a funko pop of herself it has a little harpoon Kinsey i support this wholeheartedly Gill It is both unsettling and adorable. She sets it proudly on her desk at work Kat someone coming into Comms Director Minkowski's office: uhhhhh Minkowski sitting next to her funko pop: what it's got the same psychic damage potential as Cutter having a #1 dad mug on his desk and everyone's too scared to ask about it Gill Concept: Minkowski eventually being gifted the Funko Pop versions of her entire crew They’re referred to affectionately(?) as her minions Kate If you’ve been called to her office because you’ve done something Sketchy and Capitalistic, you might even prefer looking into the creepy flat soulless eyes of the funko pop rather than Minkowski’s very, very sharp and angry human ones Gill Another mental image. Lovelace, beholding her funko pop: I mean, I don’t think my eyes are that terrifying even when I’m possessed by unknown cosmic entities, but other than that, it’s a perfect likeness. Lovelace: Look, she even has her arms folded because she’s mad at the other little plastic crewmates for being idiots. I love her.

[jessicafurseth]

Reading List, After All the Other edition.

"I need to walk down a sidewalk somewhere on a shady afternoon, find a table outside a cafe, sit down, order a drink, and I want to sit there with that drink and I want a fly to land on that table. Then, in the background, I want to hear somebody laugh. Then I want to see a woman walk by in a green dress. I want to see a dog walk by, a fat dog with short brown hair and with grinning eyes. I want to die sitting there. I want to die upright, my eyes still open. I want an airplane to fly overhead. I want a woman to walk by in a blue dress. Then I want that same fat dog with short brown hair and grinning eyes to come walking by again. That will be enough, after all the other, after everything else." [Charles Bukowski]

[Image: Ellsworth Kelly's slippers]

*

Unquotable in the best way, this is quite the ride [Sophie Heawood]

Welcome to the chaos era of social media [Annalee Nevitz, The Atlantic]

"They presented an irreverent version of adulthood that I had never seen on TV or in life: a playful yet sophisticated world where grown-ups joked and laughed together and didn’t take themselves too seriously, even when everyone around them was being very serious indeed." On Seinfeld's relevancy, 25 years later [Maya Salam, The New York Times]

"Why on Earth would it be odd to eat alone, or go for a walk alone, or live alone, or do virtually anything alone? Everyone’s their own person, we live in a free country, what possible reason could you have not to do whatever it is you want to do, accompanied or not? Equally, must we really pretend that it is always fun and great and liberating to do all those things by yourself?" [Marie Le Conte, The New Statesman]

"In 1990, my parents decided to raise me in the United States, and we all had a chance to choose a new identity. They asked for my 3-year-old’s opinion: What would I like to be called in this new place? I answered, the story goes, with Connie, after that pretty “ayi,” or auntie, we watched on TV. That ayi was Constance Yu-Hwa Chung, or, as the world knows her, Connie Chung." All the little Chinese girls named Connie [Connie Wang, The New York Times]

Why so many autistic people still identify with the term "Asperger’s" [Zoe Corbyn, The Guardian]

"Let me grapple! Let me exist!" Less TikTok, More Screaming [Persinette}

My Taste Is Basic. So What? [Samantha Irby, Harper's Bazaar]

“Amazon doesn’t care about books … a book is just another thing in a warehouse,” [B&N CEO] Daunt says. “Whereas bookstores are places of discovery. They’re just really nice spaces.” How Barnes & Noble bounced back #BoycottAmazon [Lauren Aratani, The Guardian]

Why don’t we realise how screwed up the UK really is? [Jonn Elledge, The New Statesman]

Notes from Prince Harry’s Ghostwriter [JR Moehringer, The New Yorker]

"That we’re not the most beautiful is a frequent accusation, as if the only currency exchange for male power is perfect female beauty when, as Eve Babitz worked out and wrote down, an equal conversion for a woman is self-possession." [Emma Forrest, The Guardian]

Spiraling in San Francisco’s Doom Loop - Downtown San Francisco will survive this, but it will be a sad few years [Elizabeth Weil, Curbed]

No, Cities Aren’t Doomed Because of Remote Work - it's complicated [Alissa Walker, Curbed]

The Best Beer Gardens In London, mapped [Londonist]

13 truly great ads [George Mack on Twitter]

The colour of the city: The argument for red [Peter Ackroyd, Londonist]

[hiraya-sa-dilim]

When my friend introduced her then boyfriend to the friendgroup, we immediately disliked him. We couldn't give a truly good reason why--he's boring, he's ugly, he writes shit poetry, petty shit--until my friend let it slip he checks our gc and possibly her dms, too. Weird, right? But because we were all inexperienced with healthy romantic relationships and he t e c h n i c a l l y wasn't a douche, we (uneasily) dismissed it as cheesy couple things and didn't pressure her to ditch him beyond joking about it a lot.

Soon after, we graduated and went back to living apart across the country. Lockdown happened. My friend became inactive in the gc, and didn't take our how-are-you dms beyond superficial fine-thank-yous. We assumed she got distant with the distance plus annoyed with our nagging, so we let her be. (We would ask about the boyfriend too, even though all her posts implied their relationship was forever in the pink of health. We didn't bother asking why we kept asking.)

Then she initiates a call with one of us for the first time in two years. He'd been cheating on her with her cousin, beating her, and raping her (although she did not use these words), and she wanted to ask if it was okay for her to think she should talk to him about it.

Listen. This is a woman who is confident, liberal-minded, and well-educated. She had not been, as far as our friendgroup was concerned, an idiot in a way that matters. It took us a while to comprehend how it got so Bad:

She was not an idiot in any way that matters as far as our campus friendgroup was concerned because we built a respectful environment for one another. We didn't spend time together 24/7, but it was enough that we started expecting the same love and integrity from others outside our group when we were apart

She (and by extension, we) expected the same love and integrity from the asshole because that was what she got from her loved ones across the board. She chose good choosing us, so that means he's a good choice, too. As much as our friendgroup disapproved, we trusted her judgement--no way a smart woman would make such a mistake, right?

When we moved apart, she got stuck with him, and she cut off her other loved ones because they all called bullshit, too. Her environment now solely expected Shit Things from her. And she gave the Shit Things because people in love are supposed to listen to their so's. (He was her first serious relationship.)

Because we kept reminding her we would always have something bad to say about him, even for the pettiest things, she cut us off. With lockdown in place, there was no way we could give her a second opinion, or be physically present to see what she wasn't showing us in her socmeds.

We didn't have strong enough a connection with her other friends and family. Even if she collectively cut all of us off, the net would have been tighter for her, and there would be less space for his abuse to slip unnoticed in the cracks if we had been communicating with those physically closer to her.

There's no one person we could blame for all that's happened asides the asshole, but we're doing the best we could now. After several long, hard talks online and in person, we convinced her to ditch him. We notified her loved ones, come up with ways to better support and communicate with her from a distance, secured therapy services for her. Right now, we're in the process of helping her file a complaint. But I wish we followed our instincts and got her to leave him even when we didn't have anything substantial to go by. I wouldn't have wondered what if we were wrong?, I would've asked what if we were right?

TLDR: To all SO-disapproving loved ones, especially if your opinion is shared by mutual friends--please follow your fucking gut.

If EVERYBODY in your life hates your significant other then they are the problem. If it is one or two people like a family member you have a turbulent relationship with and one friend who’s always been kind of jealous, maybe they just hate your success. But most of the time that is not the case and the people who are closest to you and love you and have had your back for years probably know when your new relationship is toxic and/or doomed.

[leaveharmony]

@soundsfunbutno​

Ok listen, this would probably be one of those let-it-slide things if I hadn’t literally just spent the best part of three weeks dealing w/ the fallout but

This is a very formative and intense part of my personal trauma because it has literally happened to me repeatedly - my father, my parents, taking, selling, destroying and throwing away things that belonged to me without my consent (sometimes without my knowledge) and in one instance, literally while I sobbed uncontrollably on the ground in the driveway while I watched a woman walk away with a doll cradle I was begging him not to sell on me

You can imagine what my opinion was of the woman who was just happy to get a bargain on a wooden doll cradle while she watched a child’s heart break into pieces

This is what my living space looked like at the start of the month:

...and yeah part of why it looked like that is a combination of decades of depression and a lack of storage space, but a very big part of it was a total inability to let anything go (even if I was choosing to do it) and the psychological drive to make the space as intimidatingly chaotic and hazardous as possible to prevent anyone who was not me from being able to find anything and take it away from me.  If they don’t come in, they don’t take my things, nothing goes ‘missing’ and then a week later I find out it’s just gone forever

It was an enormously unhealthy thing and it fucked me up exactly as much as you’d imagine trying to exist with the only clear floor space being a narrow path between the bed and the door would; I’m still not finished restoring it to a livable space yet

And again...I’d let it slide, but like, I’ve had conversations w/ friends who have that same experience of being totally powerless while their cherished things were just...taken away for arbitrary reasons, and it is an awful experience that lingers for years and years

I’m not mad, I’m not #triggered or anything but I’d like to just request you not make jokes like that w/ me because it is upsetting.

[raddishstew]

My own controversial opinion is literally a rant about how I absolutely despise Amy Pond, more specifically, how Moffat wrote Amy Pond. Though I have only one reason to hate Steven Moffat, it is the same than one of the reasons why I hate John Nathan Turner, so you can guess it is a very strong reason ; He is a sexist. I know, what an accusation, right ? Benedict Cumberbatch said it too ; Steven Moffat is a mysogynist. He wrote Amy the same way JNT wrote Peri ; to be an eye candy "for the dads" if I take JNT's words. The thing is the early Matt Smith era made me super uncomfortable. She literally gets her baby KIDNAPPED, and discovers her baby was her CHILDHOOD BESTIE ALL ALONG, the doctor leaves her waiting HER WHOLE LIFE, and she doesn't even CARE !! The doctor was literally just Steven Moffat at one point, how he hid Rory's death is just very weird. And it was a Steven Moffatt POV too, because when Amy first appeared, the camera first shows her legs and thighs, which is SO UNCOMFORTABLE. The doctor was and isn't supposed to be a creepy pedo who has young girl companions for bed, but through JNT and Moffat's eyes, he is, because their personality is reflected through the doctor.  According to JNT, the 7th doctor was attracted to 16 year-old Ace ! I refuse to believe any of JNT's headcanons, because that would just make me hate the show.  In the Russel T Davies era, the doctor was fun, goofy, heroic, not a creep ! It is proved by Rose, Donna and Martha, my favourite new who companions. Rose has a story, a personality, a life with her boyfriend and all, same with Donna, and she has some character and stands up for herself, which is a first one since the JNT dictatorship. I relate to Martha the most, since she escapes her family problems with the doctor, which I definitely relate to because personally for me, my parents can't stop arguing, and I would definitely go on a magical police box with some crazy magical middle aged gay guy instead ! But when Steven Moffat came and introduced Amy, it just reminded me of Peri. And it isn't very new of Doctor Who to put female companions as a damsel in distress with short skirts saved by the doctor "for the dads" as JNT says. Wendy Padbury got put in short skirts and tight suits a lot and Patrick Troughton once said as a joke it was for Frazer Hines not to be the only one in short skirts. Sarah-Jane is also a tragic story as at first she was a very feminist woman who stands up for herself, then suddenly became at her second story the damsel in distress. Janet Fielding once complained about how Tegan wore short skirts and high heels while in the cold, and oh, poor Peri. JNT frequently put her in bikinis and swimsuits in cold places, to the extent that Nicola Bryant got frostbite repeatedly which worried Peter Davison since she turned once blue. Matt Smith's doctor also made me extremely uncomfortable since he would make sex jokes and grab and kiss women more than any doctor ever would. Heck, no doctor before Matt Smith ever made sex jokes like he did ! It was too much of a change from David Tennant and Christopher Eccleston, both written by Russel T. Davies, where Doctor Who was a goofy space alien sci-fi fun show, or like in Verity Lambert's doctor who, a literal educational show aimed at children, and not a drama romcom show "for the dads" !

Anyway, since my post was so long, here's two cookies for you ------> 🍪

i’m genuinely interested and also quite petty, so could people please reblog this with their most controversial doctor who opinion? the more niche and likely to get you slapped by the masses, the better (but preferably, without actually fighting about it)

i’ll start: talons of weng chiang is a boring episode actually, and jago and litefoot are vastly overrated

[somewhatgreatexpectations]

Goldrush (Taylor Sloane/ Reader)

Hello everyone!

Venturing out from Wanda/ Leigh to provide you all with, drum roll please... fluff! Taylor Sloane fluff to be specific! Loosely inspired by Taylor Swift's "Goldrush".

Summary: Social media influencer were shallow. You couldn't stand them... So why were you letting this one get close to you?

It took all you had to bite back the groan of annoyance when you stepped foot on the beach. Your little hideaway had been discovered and you weren’t sure if you’d be able to find peace there ever again if it was going to be full of all these shallow ‘influencers’.

“Nothing is sacred anymore.” You mumbled to yourself as you carefully pulled out your vintage Olympus OM-1. Your most prized possession.

As you began to prepare the film a commotion caught your attention. You turned your head to see someone approach a small group of obnoxiously loud people. It looked like the person was asking to take a picture with a blonde in the group. The sight immediately lost your interest as you turned your attention back to your film.

You were scouting to see if you would be using this location for your future photoshoots. That was your priority. Not the obnoxious people who wanted attention.

Carefully brushing away the sand, you wandered over to a manmade trail of rocks that lead out into the serene ocean. The sun gleamed brightly on the water and tinged it with an ethereal glow. A beautiful sight if you slowed down long enough to take it in. You kneeled so you were at eye level with the rocks, aligning the camera so it was could capture the sight, the cold water gently lapping against the soles of your worn-out converse.

Just as you had set up the shot a sharp cough made you jump, almost making you drop your camera into the water. The interruption alone made you clench your jaw in annoyance as you turned to find the source of the sound. Your eyes meeting with the blonde from earlier, a fake smile on her face. It was clear she was one of those ‘influencers’.

Beautiful but empty. An illusion of beauty.

“Can I help you?” You mumbled.

The plastic smile never wavered. “You’re a photographer.” You stared at her blankly, waiting for the question. “Can you take a picture for me and my friends? We’d ask someone else, but you’d probably be a little better.”

“Sure.” You eventually replied flatly, taking the phone she held out. The group arranged themselves against the light, so they’d all be washed out, but you didn’t say anything. That wasn’t your problem.

As soon as you lifted the phone they all stopped bickering and began laughing as if they had just heard the funniest joke . Several peace signs showing up among the group.

Fake, you thought to yourself as you took the photo. You then handed the phone back to the blonde, fiddling with the strap of your camera that was slung across your chest.

The woman immediately handed the phone back to you, making you furrow your brows in confusion. “We’re washed out. Do you mind taking it again, but like… better? Maybe try getting lower.” You bristled at the comment. The charming smile she flashed you was something you were certain got her whatever she wanted.

You almost denied the request just for the satisfaction. “Sure.” You mumbled again, crouching ever so slightly to take the picture again.

“Do you mind getting lower?” She questioned.

Before you could stop yourself, you made a face. “What? Like in the sand?”

“Yeah, that’d be perfect! Thanks.” You bit the inside of your cheek to stop the sarcastic comment that was threatening to fall from your lips. As you kneeled down in the sand you heard her whisper to her friends. “It’s cute, an amateur photographer being able to take pictures for me. She’s probably just nervous.”

The comment made your blood boil. That was the issue with all these influencers. They thought they were god’s gift to the world. That’s why you refused to work with them.

Without paying any attention, you took the picture and marched over to the woman. “Just so you know, I have no idea who you are. Have a nice day.” You said in an overly cheery voice, shoving the phone back into her hands.

The woman sputtered slightly in surprise, but before she could say anything you hurried away, clutching the strap of your camera tightly. You needed to find new places to shoot at.

_________________

As much as you tried to avoid all the places that the social media influencers went, you couldn’t help but go to this small café that they had infiltrated. It was on the edge of the coast, close enough that the ocean breeze swept through your hair as you read by the open window.

You had become such a fixture in the shop that the owners had come to expect you at least twice a week. Today was no different as you absently picked at the chocolate croissant that the owners granddaughter had eagerly given you.

Even the little girl had become familiar with your presence (mainly because you let her play with your older cameras when you were around).

Just as you were about to turn the page, the stillness of the café was interrupted by the sounds of exaggerated laughter. You refused to look up, you knew the type. They’d be gone as soon as they got their pictures anyway.

“Excuse me?”

You looked up to see two women standing before you, one the blonde from the beach. You were surprised to see she actually looked a bit uncomfortable when she saw it was you. “Yes?” You replied, placing a finger in your book so you wouldn’t lose your place.

“Do you mind switching places with us? This spot would make a better picture.” The other woman batted her eyelashes flirtatiously.

You couldn’t help but smile in disbelief. “You know what? Sure.”

The squeal that came from the other woman’s lips made you wince. “Perf! Let’s go get our stuff, Tay.” The other woman walked off as you turned to gather your things, it was time to leave. You had a photoshoot early the next morning anyway.

“What are you reading?”

Not looking up, you began packing your things into your backpack. “Middlemarch by George Elliot.” You replied. As much as you were sure this woman was vapid, you didn’t want to be rude. Even if the aftermath of her comment still prickled under your skin.

“What’s it about?”

Curiosity got the better of you as you finally turned to face her, eyeing her skeptically. “It’s about marriage, idealism, self-interest, hypocrisy, political reform… It’s a masterpiece in my humble opinion.”

The woman’s eyebrows raised interestedly. “You sound passionate about it.” You shrugged. It was your favorite book, but she didn’t need to know that. “My names Taylor.” The same charming smile she wore on the beach made a reappearance and you tilted your head in response, not impressed.

“Y/n.” You supplied.

There was a brief moment of silence in the air, Taylor’s smile wavered slightly. “About the beach, I think I came off as kind of a bi-”

“Tay! Let’s take a pic of our coffee. The beach in the background will be adorbs.” The other woman interrupted. “Do you mind?” She asked you, gesturing to the space you were standing in front of.

You pressed your lips together, shaking your head. “Not at all. It’s all yours.”

As you passed Taylor you made eye contact, she looked like she wanted to say something, but you had already walked away. Playfully you ruffled the hair of the owner’s granddaughter on the way out. You were so occupied by the way the young girl eagerly showed you the pictures she took that you didn’t notice the eyes that were watching you with interest.

_____________________

The movement around you faded as you focused on the controlled chaos that surrounded you, the people all living their own lives. Your fingers itched to capture these unsuspecting moments of beauty. Of the elderly couple holding hands on a walk, of the two friends laughing over a picture they had just taken, of the children playing catch with their dog. Of- your peace was interrupted when someone stepped into your line of vision.

You fought the urge to groan. “Are you following me?”

Taylor raised the bag in her hand, smiling slightly. “No. I was actually on my way home from the farmers market.” You squinted at her slightly, unsure of what that had to do with you. “I think we got off on the wrong foot yesterday.”

“What makes you say that?” Your paused slightly. “Do you think it’s because I’m an amateur photographer that’s nervous to be around you?” You asked with a mocking pout.

Her face flushed. “I didn’t mean to sound so…”

“Stuck up?” You offered flatly.

Taylor nodded slowly. “I swear I’m not… that type of person.”

You chuckled as you began packing your things. “Yeah, for some reason I don’t buy that.” When you stood you noticed how close she was to you. Your breath faltered slightly because you were certain you’d never seen eyes more beautiful in your life. “Why do you care? You don’t even know me.” You grumbled stepping around her.

Her footsteps followed you as she fell into step beside you. “I don’t know, you seem different than anyone I know.” You huffed in amusement. That was probably certain. “Let me show you I’m not as bad as you think I am.”

“You see, as intrigued as I am by that offer I think I’ll pass. I’ve seen your type.” You quipped, glancing at her out of the corner of your eyes. “I have an amateur shoot that I need to get to anyway.”

She groaned. “You’re not going to let that go, are you?” You shook your head. There was a brief pause. “Can I have your number?”

A short chuckle fell from your lips. “Seriously?”

Taylor nodded and held out her phone. “Get coffee with me this weekend and I’ll prove you wrong.”

You had to admit, the persistence was admirable, you’d even say cute. “Fine.” You took the phone and put in your number. “I really have to go.”

“See you this weekend. Same café on the coast.” Taylor said as you turned to leave.

_______________

When you arrived at the café you were greeted with warm smiles as the owner offered you a tea, and raised eyebrows when you requested two. You rolled your eyes at the suggestive waggle of eyebrows you received as you walked the teas over to a table in the corner.

Glancing down at your watch, you couldn’t help but frown. 12:05. It was five minutes passed the agreed upon meeting time.

A sigh fell from your lips when another fifteen minutes passed. You mentally berated yourself for allowing yourself to hope she wouldn’t be what you thought she was. Not even a moment later you heard the chime of the bell, indicating someone had entered.

Like a whirlwind, Taylor came rushing in just as you stood to leave. “Y/n.” She hurried over to the table. “There was an accident and they stopped the freeway. Like… completely stopped it. We literally just sat there for twenty minutes. I was supposed to be here at 11:50.”

Despite yourself you couldn’t help but be amused. “Taylor.” Her eyes were still a bit wide when she met your gaze. You enjoyed the authentic emotion she was showing. “It’s fine.”

“I’m not making a good impression, am I?”

You shrugged playfully as you took a seat again, Taylor taking the seat opposite of you. “You could be doing worse.”

Taylor pushed a hand through her hair. “That’s not very reassuring.”

Again, you shrugged. “I never said I was trying to reassure you.”

For a moment she just stared at you then burst out laughing. You couldn’t help but duck your head at the sound. “I’m glad you aren’t. It’s refreshing.” She admitted when her laughter faded away.

“What? Honesty?” You chuckled as she nodded. “I hate to break it to you, but if authenticity is refreshing, you should probably reevaluate the people you surround yourself with.”

Her hands fiddled with the tea cup that you slid over to her. “Yeah, well, we can’t all be contrarians.” She retorted back.

Her words peaked your interest, you raised an eyebrow. “Did you just call me out?”

The smirk on her lips made you fidget in your seat. “How’s it feel to be on the other end?”

You nodded approvingly. “Touché, Taylor... Touché.”

“I read that book you told me about. The Middlemarch?” Your eyebrows raised in surprise. “I liked it.”

For some reason you couldn’t help but feel skeptical. “Did you really like it?”

Taylor nodded. “Yes, I did!”

“Okay.” You accepted her words as you took a sip of your tea. “Why?”

The woman sitting across from you faltered slightly. “Why?” She repeated back to you.

Your brows furrowed. “Yeah... Why did you like it?”

For a moment you watched in amusement as Taylor looked around the café as if it would hold the answers she was searching for. “I liked the characters?”

The response came out in the form of a question and you couldn’t help but feel entertained. “You know, you don’t have to pretend around me.”

Taylor’s cheeks flushed, seemingly bothered by you not believing her. “Okay. I hated it.”

You couldn’t help the boisterous laugh that fell from your lips. “That’s better!” You exclaimed. “Tell me why.”

“It’s just so pretentious and dull. I thought my eyes would fall from their sockets if I had to read another page.” She admitted flatly, her eyes shimmering with confusion when you smiled back at her.

“That’s what I like to hear!” You said encouragingly.

Taylor let out a disbelieving laugh. “What? I just insulted your favorite book.”

You nodded enthusiastically. “I know. It’s amazing.”

“You can’t be serious.” She mumbled suspiciously.

You leaned across the table slightly. “I am, and you know why? Because you’re finally being authentic.” Silence. “Look, Taylor, you don’t have to like this book because it’s my favorite or because it would make your followers think you're intriguing if you did. Ignore what everyone else is telling you to think because none of it matters. The way I see it is, you can lie and pretend to like what everyone says you should like and be miserable OR…”

Taylor leaned forward a bit as well. “Or?”

You smiled. “Or you can be honest and say when you hate something and talk about what you love instead… and be happy.”

Taylor’s breath hitched slightly and for a moment she just stared back at you. “Show me.”

“Show you what?” you questioned curiously.

“Show me how you see the world.”

For a moment you considered her words, your heart racing in your chest. “Well let’s start with this small little coastal town.” The invitation was wordless as you stood and offered her your hand.

Her hand twitched for a moment as if she was silently debating with herself. The smile she gave you when she finally took your hand took your breath away. You rolled your eyes at the way the owners watch you walk out of the shop hand-in-hand.

________________

“Babe.” Taylor whined quietly.

You raised an eyebrow in surprise. Smirking when you finally processed the word. After dating for a few weeks the term of endearment was new. “Babe you say?” You teased lightly.

Her cheeks flushed red. “When I asked you to take a picture of me, I meant with my phone not on film.” She mumbled, ignoring your question.

You decided you wouldn’t comment on it.

Just like you wouldn’t comment on the way she’d develop the film herself just like you taught her. You wouldn’t comment on the way she'd smile when they developed just right. You wouldn't comment when she would say how much better the picture looked on film… And you definitely wouldn’t comment on how endearing you found every single thing she did either.

“Taylor, everything looks-”

“Better on film.” She finished with a playful eyeroll. “I know. You probably tell me that mmm… at least once a day.”

Laughing quietly, you held the camera up to your eye, so you could focus the shot. “Only once a day? I’m going to need to step it up.”

Taylor shook her head lightly, her eyes twinkling from your antics and her lips forming into the beginnings of a genuine smile. You took the shot.

That was an authentic Taylor. No peace signs and fake smiles. The real Taylor was all twinkling eyes and crooked smiles. You had never seen a more beautiful sight.

And when she wandered over to press her lips tenderly against yours, you were sure you’d never felt anything more beautiful either.

__________________

Taylor surprised you. And you fell for her. Fast.

Four months with her and you were certain you were ruined for anyone else.

She was something your heart had never expected.

“Babe?’ you hummed distractedly. “Babe!”

You blinked rapidly, refocusing on the world around you. “Yes?”

Taylor’s laugh drifted into your ears and you smiled at the sound. “I was asking if you’ve seen my Eagles shirt?”

“It was hanging on the door.” You mumbled. “Wait. Don’t you mean my Eagles shirt?”

She pecked your lips to avoid answering. “Thanks, babe!” Taylor winked and ran over to the door, pulling the shirt over her head. “Anything on the agenda for the day?”

You began getting dressed. “I have a photoshoot where they’re giving me complete creative freedom. Then I’m meeting with my manager since I have a few more offers to shoot a couple different things.”

A soft noise of excitement fell from her lips. “Everybody wants you.” She padded across the room, her arms draping around your shoulders. “And I have you.”

The smile on both your faces made it almost impossible to kiss, but you didn’t let that stop you.

_________________

The movement around you faded out as you looked over your camera, feeding the film into the machine serenely. You had no idea who you were shooting today, but the company who booked you was very eager to work with you and let you have complete creative freedom. Complete creative freedom meant film for you. Not digital. The thought alone excited you. “She’s here. Are you ready?”

You looked up at your assistant after you were sure your camera was ready. “Did they water the rose bush?”

“Yes. I still don’t understand why you wanted a rose bush. We’re in the middle of a desert.” Your assistant mumbled.

“Double vision in a rose bush. An illusion… Because of the dessert. The beauty is an illusion?” You explained, rolling your eyes when you saw your assistant bite back a smile. “Shut up. Where’s this person?”

A small tap on your shoulder answered your question. “Looking for me?”

When you turned around you were met with the sight of a playful smirk on familiar lips. You squinted at her teasingly, hiding the surprise of seeing your girlfriend here. “Are you following me?”

“You’re the infamous photographer that this company was telling me about?” Taylor questioned back at you, feigning confusion.

You sent her a sarcastic smile. “No. I’m just an amateur that’s here to take pictures of you. I’m so nervous to be working with you!” You said mockingly.

Taylor groaned, the act falling away almost immediately. “That was a year ago. Before we even started dating! Are you ever going to let me live that down?”

“Hmm…” You pretended to think, your finger on your chin. “Nope.” You quipped back, popping your lips on the word.

You began walking away, smiling slightly when you saw Taylor fall into step beside you. “Maybe I’m nervous to work with you.” She said softly, taking your hand in her own and pressing a light kiss to the back of it. “After all, everybody wants you.”

“What a coincidence because I will only ever want you.” Before you reached the set-up, you turned to face her, pressing your forehead lightly against hers. “Tell me about something that makes you happy.”

Her soft breath fanned over your lips and the smile she sent you made your cheeks flush. “Well... She hates the sand but loves the beach. She practically lives on the coast she’s there so often. I sometimes need to call her out on her contrarian shit, but… I’ll never find a love as pure as her.” Her words were quiet, but sincere. Authentic. “Tell me about something you love.”

“She loves to sing to songs on the radio even if she doesn’t know the words, she dances like a goof when she’ s drunk, but she claims she doesn’t when she’s sober. Hmm… She steals my clothes.” Taylor giggled, and you couldn’t help but smile. “And more importantly, she’s also stolen my heart.” You mumbled, her lips connecting with yours almost as soon as the word left your mouth.

After a moment you pulled away, noticing your assistant walk up to you both. You turned to face her. “Never mind about what I said earlier. This beauty isn’t an illusion... and she never will be.”

That's all folks! And you all thought I couldn't write happy endings. Well, anyway, I hope you all enjoyed since this is fairly different from what I usually write.

Please let me know what you think because as always, thoughts and comments are always welcome!

P.s. Should I make a general tag list?

(P.p.s. if the Gerri stealers are reading this... rude.)

[unhealthyfanobsession]

Can I ask for drunk Nesta flirting with Cassian in front of the ic and him getting all flustered but being secretly pleased about it???

Hell yeah you can! I love this idea! It wasn’t specified so I’m going modern here just because I’m not really sure where this could’ve happened in the canon timeline without a bunch of other factors impeding. Also I’m throwing in a dash of my fav jealous Cassian 😏

It wasn’t that Cassian didn’t want to be there. Well, no, actually that was exactly what it was. Cassian didn’t want to be there. He was exhausted and he hadn’t gotten to the gym that morning and he had a massive deadline that Rhys kept insisting they could push back but Cassian didn’t want to. He just wanted to go home and finish his report and maybe have a glass of whiskey to close off a truly awful week.

But Feyre’s art exhibit opened earlier that week and he hadn’t even gotten to see it yet and so it wasn’t like he could blow off her big party when he already felt like the world’s worst friend.

And he was completely lying to himself and everyone else. He didn’t want to be there because he didn’t want to watch Eris Vanserra’s slimy ass mill about the elegantly decorated, high ceilinged, natural light dripping, beautiful space, with his eyes glued to Nesta’s ass as if it was the art they were meant to be appreciating.

Did Cassian also appreciate every inch of her body like it had been sculpted by Michelangelo? Yeah but that was besides the point. And he had the respect to do it subtly.

“Remind me why he’s invited,” Cassian grumbled into his overpriced merlot. Because apparently only wine was classy enough for these fancy, classy, art events.

“He’s Lucien’s brother.” Azriel also didn’t look impressed by Eris’ uninvited hand on the small of Nesta’s back. Or the way he kept refilling her glass before she asked or was even done. “And he’s richer than Midas and spends a lot of that money on art.”

Cassian rolled his eyes. “We have as much money as he does.”

“Yes but you know Feyre’s rule. No family purchases. She doesn’t want to be a success just because Rhys could buy and sell this entire gallery.” Azriel was stoic as usual. Betraying no opinion on the matter.

It was several hours of carefully constructed comments where Cassian pretended he knew anything about art and pretended his neck wasn’t getting increasingly hot under his collar as Eris kept glued to Nesta’s side.

Cassian had no right to be jealous. He knew that. He and Nesta weren’t anything. Casual flirting. Witty banter. Eternal, pining, unrequited love on his end that she didn’t even seem to notice or care about. So fine. Maybe Eris was her type. It wasn’t his place to interfere.

Except that she really needed a glass of water right now and-

Cassian’s hand darted out on instinct as Nesta walked past him, wobbling a little on her completely impractical shoes.

“Careful sweetheart.”

He braced for the hissed don’t call me that, but When he looked up Nesta was blinking slowly through a hazy wall of the wrong wine.

The wrong wine because Eris had been giving her a Nappa Cab Sauv all night when she preferred old world Syrah. Which was probably why she kept drinking it so quickly, looking for her opportunity to get what she really wanted.

“Cass,” she smiled. It was a little lopsided and definitely off kilter, but even through her wine brain he could see that she was playing at something. Nesta had never called him Cass in his life. “It’s so good to see you!” Her voice went up a full octave and she pressed her entire body against his as she hugged him.

The display turned a few heads in their direction. It was mostly just family at this point, and Eris who couldn’t learn how to take a fucking hint. Technically, he supposed, Eris was family. Nesta’s fucking brother in law. Was that how it worked? Was the brother of the person your sister married also your brother in law? Brother in law once removed?

Not important, moron. Drunk Nesta. Body. Wrapped in a tight sheath dress and clinging to him. Cassian closed his hands around her back and got lost for a minute.

Holding her against him like she was made to fit in his arms. Breathing in her scent like he could capture it in a bottle and spray it on his pillow every night before he went to bed.

Someone cleared their throat. Feminine. High pitched. Mor.

Nesta had already let go and was smirking at him a little. He dropped his hands immediately. “Um, yeah, always a pleasure.”

“Interesting choice of words,” Nesta’s grin was feline. She was definitely up to something. And normally he would make a stupid remark, probably something about how much more pleasurable the evening would be back at his apartment, except that she was drunk and his entire family was staring and Eris was still standing there.

“Can I get you a glass of water?” It seemed like the right thing to say. To offer. Feyre smiled a little, a silent thank you. Azriel was covering a laugh, Mor was watching them both with narrowed eyes like a hawk, and Rhys honestly couldn’t have cared less. Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “Or maybe throw you into a pool,” Cassian joked stupidly.

“You should probably buy me dinner before offering to get me wet.” Someone dropped a glass. Cassian honestly thought it might have been him and he wouldn’t have noticed. Not in that moment. Not with Nesta looking at him through hooded eyes and talking about…

He could do this. His pants were not getting tight. Not at all. Because he wasn’t a damn teenager.

“I- um- do you-”

Nesta burst out laughing. It was a sound he’d never heard from her. She was usually all sultry under her breath snorts or ironic guffaws. Full, deep, angels singing, laughter was not usual for Nesta.

As evidenced by the fact the no one was even pretending not to be watching them anymore.

“I’ve got her.” Eris pushed himself back to Nesta’s side.

“Does he?” Nesta looked straight at Cassian, one eyebrow raised. “Because I’m willing to bet he wouldn’t have made it past glass two if your family wasn’t here.”

Azriel coughed. Amren cackled.

“You… do you want him to have you?” It came out wrong. The words. He meant did she want Eris to take her to get some water. Like he offered. He didn’t mean, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t…

“I want you to have me.” She was drunk. She was so drunk and it shouldn’t have been hot but fuck him it was. It wasn’t some sloppy college night out messed up drunk. It was a woman whose inhibitions had been soaked in wine just enough that every word out of her mouth was low and hot and honest.

“Find somewhere else to be, Vanserra.”

“Hey man what the fuck? We were talking-“

Cassian scoffed, snapping out of whatever flustered mess Nesta had put him in. “Anyone who gave her that much Cab Sauv doesn’t deserve to talk to her. Get lost.”

“I saw you eyeing the bottle,” Nesta laughed a little, swaying on her toes. Cassian moved his hands from a support on her bicep to a full arm around the waist support. Even if she did try to fall he could lift her with one arm easy. “Thought you might say something after…”

After the night they spent in her apartment with a bottle of her favourite Syrah only a week ago. It hadn’t been on purpose. Feyre and Elain and Azriel and Lucien were all supposed to be there. And they all conveniently cancelled only after he’d already showed up.

Which, judging by the barely contained grins on their faces, was even less of a coincidence than he thought. Busybodies.

“I’d offer you a glass of Syrah now, but I think what you need is a coffee.”

“Oh but then I’ll never sleep. And I do think I’m ready for bed.”

Sensing that he’d lost, Eris swore under his breath and stomped off.

“Let me take you home, Nes.” Cassian whispered into her hair.

“Hmm, your place or mine.”

“Yours,” he kissed her temple, pulling her legs out from under her and not even paying his family a backwards glance. “For a nightcap of 2 big glasses of water and a bottle of aspirin that I’m going to leave on your nightstand for the morning.”

“You don’t want to be there in the morning?”

Cassian groaned. “You said it yourself, Sweetheart. Dinner first.”

“You’re never going to let me live this down.” Nesta sighed, head lulling onto his shoulder.

“Actually go for dinner with me next week and I promise to never bring this night up again. And bribe our friends to do the same.”

“Deal,” Nesta said immediately.

An hour later after Cassian had supervised Nesta drinking her water he was about to leave her apartment when she yawned.

“Hey Cass,” she mumbled, half asleep.

“Yes sweetheart?”

“You made a bad bargain. I would’ve gone out with you either way.”

Cassian chuckled, a low rumble. “I’m satisfied with the bargain I made.”

“Cheesy as hell.”

“You love it.”

Nesta laughed, “I am prepared to tolerate it at best.”

“Good enough for me.”

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating J.D.

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous and @poruchik-logy​)

(Sorry about the inactivity lately. With the holidays coming up, I’ve been a bit busy. Plus, I’ve written a post or two on my other blogs which means no post on this one. Anyways, hope you enjoy!)

- You meet J.D. when he transfers to your school. You’re in study hall when you just so happen to look up and make eye contact with the boy while glancing around the room. 

- For the rest of the period, you feel like someone's watching you, and lo and behold, every time you sneak a glance his way, his eyes are on you. He doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he was looking, he just raises an eyebrow at you when you turn and meet his gaze. 

- You spot him in the lunchroom later that day and ask your friends about him though they don’t have much information besides his name and where he moved from which they got from one of their teachers forcing him to introduce himself to the class. He was a mystery …and boy were you intrigued. 

- You have your first conversation at the local Snappy Snack Shack. You’d just popped in to grab a little junk food, only to find him stalking through the store in his black trench coat. You figured you’d dance around each other until one of you left but before you knew it, he’d sauntered up to you and interjected that you looked familiar. 

- Before you knew it, the two of you had introduced yourselves and began a sort of flirtatious conversation. He bought you a slushy and offered you a ride home on his bike which you coyly accepted after a moment of nervous hesitation. 

- It was that same night that he returned to your house, rapping at your window and damn near giving you a heart attack. Even though it was terrifying at first, it was also sort of endearing and you soon found yourself joining him outside.

- Now, It’s your choice whether or not you sleep together that night. If you do then consider yourself kissed and claimed from then on. If you don’t, he’ll continue to show up at your house or hang around you at school until he gets what he wants. You. 

- You suppose that your first date happened at the Snack Shack so from then on, the two of you were sort of seeing each other. Well, one of his favorite things to do with you is not be at home so the two of you were hanging out in an empty lot.

- The sun went down and you were sitting in the dark, the glow of the moon being the only thing lighting up your date. You were sitting down and he was lingering on his feet somewhere behind him, sorta pacing from what you could hear. 

- He knelt down beside you and you turned your head to look at him, only to immediately get pulled into a kiss that all but had you melt into the floor. It was passionate and somewhat rough, exactly what you’d expect from him. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

- Well, he most certainly isn’t letting you go after that. I hope you like him babe because you’re not getting rid of him anytime soon. 

- This man is fully willing to makeout with you in public. So yeah, there’s a lot of Pda.

- His hands are pretty much on you at all times.

- Pecks on the lips. He loves when you just give him a kiss for no reason at all.

- Rough, passionate kisses. He asserts his dominance by hooking his arms around you and pulling you into a searing kiss until you can’t breathe.

- He definitely calls you “woman” and a ton of other pet names ranging from cute to just plain annoying. 

- He never would have imagined a girl like you would actually put up with him for so long …but boy is he thankful you have.

- He’s a little shit and that’s just something you’ll have to live with. He’s blunt, conniving and sarcastic, but he does care about you.

- He pretends like he doesn’t give a shit a lot of the time but he does, more than he cares to admit.

- Surprisingly enough, JD actually really likes cuddling. You’ll usually lay with your legs intertwined and your head resting against his chest while he wraps his arms tight around you. 

-  Jason's father sort of ignores him, they aren’t very close and certainly not close enough to be sharing affection besides; maybe, a pat on he back or something similar. So he craves attention and affection.

- He yearns for you to touch and love him but he doesn’t know how to tell you that he wants you to suffocate him with your own body. He’ll just try to repeat whatever it is he did to make you touch him or touch you until you do something to him.

- Hugs from behind.

- Husky whispers in your ear. He does it on purpose because he knows what it does to you.

- Motorcycle rides. 

- Trying to get him to quit smoking. It never actually works but he; somewhat, tries to cut down on it for your sake. He thinks the fact that you care is sorta amusing. 

- Cutting class together.

- Going shooting with him. The beer bottles and porcelain plates kind of shooting, not the Ram and Kurt kind of shooting. 

- Dark humor. Although, sometimes you genuinely don’t know if he’s joking or not. 

- He can always seem to make you laugh, even if it makes you feel guilty to laugh at some off the stuff he says.

-  Hearing an alarming amount of gun and bomb facts. 

- Going to Snappys Snack Shack with him.

- Junk food binges.

- He’s kind of a stalker if I’m being honest. He follows you around without you knowing, finds out everything he can about you, etc. You’re sort of like an obsession of his and that can be good or bad depending on the situation and to what extent you know about his feelings. 

- He knows practically everything about you, ranging from your birthday to where you are at pretty much any given time.

- He’s not too great at all that lovey dovey shit but he tries. It might take him a little while to get the hang of it but he eventually will. 

- Getting him to play the sax for you.

- Having his hand on your thigh whenever he’s driving. 

- Making out.

- Hickeys.

- He likes when you wear his clothes, it’s like marking his territory without getting in trouble for making your neck different colors.

- Listening to morbid music.

- Deep existential conversations. What else do you talk about with your girlfriend besides the meaning of life and why society will ultimately cave in and destroy itself in a violent revolt?

- Late night phone calls from him. Be prepared to rush to your landline at three a.m. so that you don’t wake up your parents. You can’t even really be mad at him because he’ll just immediately launch into either a spiel about how he missed you or ask what your opinion on Manchurian candidates are; successfully silencing you in bewilderment. 

- Getting random knocks at your window whenever he decides he just has to see you. 

- Your parents either love or hate him, there is no inbetween. He’s generally pretty good at playing the role of the upstanding young man who cares a lot about their daughter; that parts real of course, but occasionally a parent will just get a bad vibe from him and his charade; though convincing, just won’t work on them. 

- If that’s the case with your parents then you’ll sort of be forced to sneak out if you want to see him, which he’s particularly good at helping you do. 

- Getting kept away from his father. He tries to keep your interactions to a minimum, especially if you have a much different personality than to the man.

- Incredibly jealous though he’ll always try to hide just how upset whatever situation you’re in makes him. He makes jokes and “forgets about it” as soon as you join his side, convincingly acting like nothing happened or that he saw nothing wrong with it but staying up the rest of the night wondering what he can do about it. 

- Possessive. You’re each others, aren’t you? He’s yours and you’re his. Everybody belongs to someone and the two of you belong to one another. 

- Is he protective? What do you think? If you ever complain about a person bothering you, he’ll almost immediately ask if you want him to kill them. You think it’s a joke. It’s not. 

- Although it may seem like he does things just for his own benefit, he would genuinely do anything you ask of him. Sometimes he’ll surprise you with the lengths that he goes to make your life easier and happier. 

- He’s hot tempered and kind of an asshole so the two of you are; most likely, almost constantly fighting. You’ll usually be yelling at each other or arguing passionately which is a problem because he thinks you’re hot when you’re angry. He’ll usually wind up trying to kiss you which succeeds in making things worse and having you give him the silent treatment/break up. 

- He tries his best to give you your space but the instant you want him back, he’s all over you. He usually never actually apologizes but he doesn’t force you to when you’re in the wrong either so you suppose it’s fair. 

- I love you’s are few and far between. He doesn’t really want to make himself seem too vulnerable so you only get them on rare occasions. 

- The two of you tend to not talk about the future. He wants to be with you forever; which is obvious, and he wants you to be his; which is also obvious. But you don’t know if you’re entirely sure you can handle him. So, you try to just enjoy the time you’re spending together and not think about how things may end. 

- You’re either the Bonnie to his Clyde or his blissfully unaware darling. Pick your poison. 

[internetaddict104]

I’m sorry you think I’m a miserable person for getting upset I’m getting death threats. I’m sorry you think I’m taking this too far by venting on a platform they don’t use so will likely never see (especially since it’s both negative and negative towards Amanda). Am I not allowed to vent? I’m sorry this might upset her, but you’re lowkey just proving my point. You’re upset that I posted a negative opinion of Amanda. What I gain from posting this is to be able to let it out somewhere (and yes a little bit of this is to try seek some validation and find someone else who sees my perspective but I know that’s selfish and wishful thinking). Also Amanda is an influencer, she had to expect some people to not like her. She puts herself on the internet for all to see, why can’t I put my opinion out there too? If she can’t handle one negative comment/one person she’s never met not liking her, maybe being an internet celebrity/influencer/YouTuber isn’t the right career for her.

My issue at the moment isn’t that I don’t like her, it’s that I’m not allowed to dislike her. Any other cast member, fine. But Amanda, no. I can say I don’t like Kimmy (and I did years ago bc I actually didn’t, but now I like her), and I got people agreeing and disagreeing. I’ve seen people say they don’t like Courtney, or Noah, or that Keith isn’t funny, and while there’s still a ton of fans disagreeing with them, there’s some who agree. I’ve only gotten hate over Amanda. I’m not allowed, by fandom history and rules, to dislike her. I’m not allowed to not find her funny. I can say Olivia’s jokes are bad and unfunny, and people will agree. But if I say I didn’t like Amanda’s jokes, I deserve to die and my parents hate me and I’m a horrible disgusting trash person. I literally cannot have a negative opinion of this woman or else the fandom attacks me.

I don’t give a shit if everyone else likes her, that’s fine. She’s just not for me. In any other fandom/space, that’s fine, but with Smosh, it’s unacceptable. I just don’t understand why I can’t have or express my feelings too. There’s plenty of negative posts on the Reddit (there’s a majority positive ones but there are still some negatives in there), and no one has any issue. But if someone asks for an unpopular opinion or our thoughts on each cast member, and I give my opinion and thoughts on Amanda, I’m wrong.

I just wanna know why I can’t dislike her. And because I’m not allowed to express my feelings on Reddit (where it’s asked and usually encouraged), or really any platform, it’s just getting bottled up and getting worse. I can’t express my feelings anywhere and I don’t think that’s fair.

I just don’t understand why the fandom is so gatekeepery over her. Like why is she the one person we can’t have a negative thought about? It’s sort of like how when you’re a kid, and your parents tell you not to do something, that makes you really want to do it more, if that makes sense? Like since I’m not allowed to dislike Amanda, it’s just making her dislike her more. She’s like the golden child of Smosh and I’m not sure why or how that happened.

She seems really condescending and patronizing to me, and while I’m sure she’s a lovely person, I just can’t vibe with her. I thought the feeling would pass because I had similar negative feelings towards Kimmy when she was introduced, but after Summer Games that subsided and I really liked her (I think I didn’t at first bc everything about her was “I’m new here/I’m the new girl” and “I’m super sweet and nice”, like her entire personality and schtick was that she was nice and she was new).

Also People Magazine did cover Harambe a few times 😂. And Amanda is only 36, she’s the same age as Ian and Anthony, so while she is one of the oldest cast members, it’s not like she’s a grandma 😂.

As for your last paragraph, I’m honestly not 100% on what parasocial means (tbh my understanding mainly comes from the John Mulaney and Ned Fulmer scandals) but from my understanding I don’t think I personally am. I’m not saying we all need to dislike Amanda, or saying she deserves pain and suffering because I don’t like her. I’m not upset at Smosh for hiring her. I don’t care that she’s there. I just don’t like her and don’t understand why I can’t share it, in that I get attacked and harassed because of it, and only when it comes to Amanda. I once said I didn’t think Olivia was funny (this was during her “bored” phase where she always looked like she’d rather be anywhere else and put no effort into videos, and this isn’t my opinion, that’s what most fans describe it as) and every single comment agreed with me, though some took it too far. I say I don’t think Amanda is funny, I deserve to die horribly. I just don’t understand the double standard here.

Also this post of mine has gotten more engagement than any other post of mine in terms of conversations (it’s usually just reblogs with maybe some tags, I never get asks or reblogs that add/discuss my posts), and I think that’s just proving my point because every single one has been negative or disagreeing with me 😂.

I need to vent for a sec

So idk if yall know this bc idk if I posted about it before but I truly cannot stand Amanda. I have no idea why she’s just never clicked for me and I can’t watch any videos she’s in.

I can’t say it on the Smosh Reddit because I get attacked (I’m currently being bombarded for disliking her “I don’t know the internet/pop culture” bit. It doesn’t even work bc she’s admitted she reads pop culture magazines so she has to know some things. I don’t find fake ignorance funny, I’m sorry.

I also just don’t think she’s funny at all. She’s patronizing, condescending, and only has 1 character voice she uses for everyone. Talking in a low voice doesn’t make it funny.

It’s also not helping that I’m not allowed to dislike her. Someone else just posted on the sub about not liking Trevor and his humor, and that was okay, but me commenting that I don’t like an Amanda bit has the pitchforks and torches out??? It’s just making her hate her more bc I have to bottle it up.

I just really need to vent about it since I’m apparently not allowed to and I’ve gotten death threats over it before. Please tell me someone else in the Smosh fandom isn’t kissing her ass worse than a Swiftie or Ariana Grande fan 🙏

[highqueenofelfhame]

Hi I saw your post about fics being in character and I thought this could be a good opportunity to share some insight to help people who struggle with their characterization. I love your writing and ask could you share some traits you see as 'core' Rowan and Aelin traits? Maybe more valuably, would you be open to sharing your process for what you look for in the text when understanding characters, what stands out to you and what you make sure to include vs what you don't? I understand if this isn't something you want to share and I send this ask with good intentions and respect and hope this can start a productive discussion, no drama. Thanks :))

totally okay that you asked this!!

i think part of it is that i have read everything up to EoS so many times. like at least four times each and i've read heir of fire and queen of shadows probably six times each. i've only read kingdom of ash once bc it's still too painful to read again lmaoooo.

when i write i also always look for any chance i can to make parallels. i love making canon parallels to anything from small moments to bigger ones that are more recognizable. like the rowaelin qos reunion, rowan's "where is my wife" moment. rowan and aelin sparring in any capacity, like, anything like that. because i think that helps when you're pulling from the text and putting them into situations where you know how they interact with them, and it makes it easier to add in bits and pieces before and after. if that makes any kind of sense. (this also goes for legit any ship that i write. nessian, feysand, etc. pulling from the text and putting them in familiar situations will always help.)

as far as traits go, one of my major ones that i always try to keep in mind is rowaelin's loyalty to each other. rowan is like loyal to aelin almost to a fault sometimes. he will do anything and everything for her. when it comes that's why their thing is "to whatever end." they will follow each other to whatever end and beyond.

aelin has a very low opinion of herself. she thinks that she's expendable compared to those around her. she is very depressed sometimes and i think it gets overlooked a lot. (when i get my books back from my sister, i plan on doing a meta about this.) but she's been through a lot in her life and i try to keep that in mind in a lot of au's. some au's that are heavier (like iihasts and fafs) i try to pull on that. her mental health is very important to a lot of the way she handles things. post KOA, i know this girl has PTSD. it's evident in the way she handles a lot and takes a long time to warm back up to rowan in kingdom of ash. but she was tortured and manipulated for months. she's not okay.

people (in the books) also call her selfish A LOT but most of what she does she does for other people. she even spared dorian the weight of killing his father and told him she did it. like, come on.

as celaena, she does lean on the more selfish side, but as aelin she's doing everything she does for the greater good of the entire world. she didn't forge that lock for herself. she forged that lock for a better tomorrow for everyone she loved. which is incredibly selfless. she would also completely throw down to keep her loved ones safe.

the arrogant behavior is such an act. she's not really like that, it's a cover to hide everything she's truly feeling inside, to protect herself, to keep people from truly getting to know her. she can flip her personality to better suit the situation and the people she's around. she's mostly only her true self around aedion, lysandra, and rowan. i don't even think she really reveals herself to the rest of the cadre for probably a very long time. she picks fights when she's hurting the most and rowan is really the first person to see and recognize that. (very evident in hof when she sees what a good person gallan appears to be and goes and picks a bar fight immediately. or when arobynn humiliates her and she wears her nicest jewels to try to intentionally get robbed so she can start a fight.)

the reality is that she's an insanely hard worker, she keeps going and going and going to meet to meet her goals. she's a master strategist and very quick on her feet in any situation she finds herself in. she feels isolated (which goes back to her depression and ptsd) and she feels misunderstood. but she has been known to literally give the cloak off her back (with kaltain) and the money in her pocket (with yrene) and doesn't expect anything in return. literally nothing in return. she just did it out of the goodness of her own heart, yet she's constantly filled with self doubt that she's a bad person because people tell her that she is (chaol literally calls her a monster and she holds onto that and ends up asking rowan if she is one.)

she gives a lot of forgiveness and second chances, except to abusers. she pulls no punches with them. yet even with arboynn, she made sure there were no redeeming qualities left before letting lysandra kill him. instead of seeing it as a victory, though, she just felt hollow. she doesn't take joy in killing these people. she is not a bad person.

she feels a lot of guilt when she feels she could have stopped things. i think she carries those moments with her. which is why she helped those people the king wanted dead to escape in com. she has no problem ending people that deserve the punishment, but when they don't, she does what she can to help them.

rowan is so respectful. he finally gets his mate and his wife and his love back and he's consistently giving her the space she requires when it's so hard for him to not just touch her. he puts his own needs aside consistently based on what aelin needs.

he's a complete and total hardass to other people but is so soft for her. but he's also territorial about her. he's protective of her. but never at the cost of what she needs and wants. however, he will put his foot down and make people swallow their own tongues if they're disrespectful toward her. but he's also respectful toward everyone, not just aelin. he can prove his points without physical violence even if he would want to.

in that same vein, if you're doing enemies to lovers, he doesn't understand her at first. he think's she's spoiled and doesn't have a single clue about the trauma she's been through and he's very hard on her. he treats her like another warrior in their training. he doesn't go easy on her just because she's a woman (which also still comes from a place of respect) but the second he finds out about her trauma the way he treats her shifts. he becomes protective because he doesn't put up with that kind of shit. he isn't torturing her in their training, in fact aelin in hof says that he's brilliant even if he beats the shit out of her every damn day. a lot of people try to twist that into a thing of abuse, but again, he's training her like a warrior. he doesn't coddle her and she doesn't want to be coddled. again, this comes from a place of respect.

he also learns from his mistakes and tries to right them, and takes action to better himself from it as soon as he can. this is important. he has the humility to apologize, whether it be by actions or words. he doesn't ask for credit in the things he does and ends up kind of making jokes about it. i think he has a lot of humility at the end of the day. he is quick to forgive others when it's deserved but has a lot of trouble forgiving himself. this is also important.

but rowan also has a playful side with aelin. they have witty banter that they exchange even when they're not totally on board with the other. he's funny in subtle ways, and toward the end of the series we see that he's so wholly comfortable with her that he even gets a little silly.

after his own trauma, he also falls into a very deep depression. for centuries. it took aelin coming along for him to come back out of his shell. everyone gave up on him, but aelin never did. just like he never gave up on her, and they were able to walk out of that darkness together. i also think he feels a lot of guilt when innocent lives get put in danger and risk or die at his hands when he felt he could have stop it, much like aelin.

rowan is also very calm in most situations. he's able to work out solutions like the warrior that he is even when other people are losing their minds, which makes him a very good soldier and eventually king.

i could keep going but this is getting wildly long lol. i hope this helps even a little. thank you to @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading @punkassbookjockey26 for helping me with my thoughts as i'm still exhausted from surgery and healing.

[bqstqnbruin]

Aerosmith

Alright, y'all: here's that fic that I'm low key scared no one is going to read that has taken me a few months to write, a Trent x single mom!reader fic

It's a long one, with the Bruin's feral little fighty boy from St. Louis, around 13.3k words. The songs listed as the headers of each section are all by Aerosmith, each part partially inspired by the song (hence the name of the fic)

Shoutout to @toplinetommy for helping me with this the entire time and being my beta AND to @chara-hugs for letting me bounce ideas off of you and talking through what I was thinking of. Love you lots 💛

I hope people like this

___________

Just Push Play

Considering how much was happening around you at the bar your friends had dragged you to, the only thing that could keep your attention was your phone. It was the only thing, at this point, that you would allow to keep your attention. You had no desire to be there. Part of you wanted your phone to start buzzing, anything that would give you an excuse for you to leave, but the other part of you knew that something bad had to happen in order for you to leave. Every second that you stayed was costing you more money and less time being where you wanted to be.

“Hey, Y/N, put the phone away. This is your first night out in, like, years,” Molly tells you.

“Four years. Maybe five?” you guess.

“Six years, exactly,” she wrongly says, earning a disappointed head shake from you, a small ‘no’ escaping your lips that goes ignored as she takes your hand that’s holding the phone. “Can we please just enjoy tonight and have some fun? He’s going to be fine.”

You take in a deep breath, almost sure she was right about that. You hadn’t had a night to yourself in years, and Molly was also almost right that this was your first one in over four years. Actually, given the timeline, it was probably more like five. “But what if something happens?” you ask, the natural worry and constant fear you felt taking over your ability to just enjoy the night.

“If something, anything happens, you’ll be able to feel your phone vibrating in your pocket, and I will go home with you to take care of it,” she reassures you, playing around with the settings on your phone. She hands it back to you, pulling you up from the table you had yet to move from in the first place. “He’s fine. He always is. Why don’t you request a song?”

“Because you keep telling me you hate my music.”

“Well, that’s because you have the same music taste as your sixty-something-year-old father when you’re a twenty-something-year-old woman.”

“You don’t even know how old I am? We’re the same age.” Molly rolls her eyes at you, dragging you up to the line of people to request songs, a book sitting there with the songs you could request. “They’re not going to have anything I like,” you tell her as the line behind you gets longer.

“Don’t you listen to that one guy?” she starts.

“That could mean anything. Have I told you lately that you are the most unhelpful person I know?” you snap at her, trying to find anything in your Spotify that you could request as the line got shorter and shorter in front of you. “What about this song?” you ask, your finger hovering over someone from one of your Daily Mixes. Molly looks over your shoulder at your phone, shaking her head at your song choice, and every song choice that you suggested. “I’m just going back to the table, you’re being impossible.”

Before she can protest, you turn around and head back to your table, sitting off to the side away from the rest of your friends, your eyes glued to your phone. At this point, you were praying that you would get a message from Rachel asking you to come home, telling you that something was wrong. Even something as simple as she had to leave unexpectedly so you could, too. Anything so that you could leave sooner rather than later.

“Sorry, but you really couldn’t find a song in that book?” you hear a guy's voice, tearing you away from the screen. He sits down next to you, not too close that it was uncomfortable but just close enough that you could smell his cologne, covering the smell of beer that had been lingering in the air around you. “There was some Aerosmith in there, I have a feeling that’s the closest to something you’d enjoy,” he says, smiling at you.

He must have been in the group that was in line behind you, hearing your conversation with Molly. Regardless, you smile back at him, something about his own being so infectious that you couldn’t help but mirror his expression. “Well, you’re right, but it depends on what Aerosmith song,” you respond, a hint of flirting in your voice.

“Is there a bad one?”

“No, but there are some superior ones,” you tell him, his eyebrow cocked as a sign to get you to explain. “Sweet Emotion is great but not as good as their cover of Come Together. Dream On and I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing are easily, in my opinion, their best songs.”

“Is that up for debate?”

“Oh, you think their most popular songs aren’t their best?”

“I think the one that’s about to play is one of their best,” the guy says, both of you pausing as there’s a lull in the music, the chatter and screaming of the bar’s drunk patrons overtaking everything.

“Just Push Play?” you ask, a smile on your face. It wasn’t one of their most well-known songs, but you still had to admit it was an underrated one.

The boy shrugs, a smirk on his face. “I might have requested it so you’ll have a reason to dance with me,” he flirts, getting up and extending his hand for you to join him.

You hesitate, unsure if you should get up with this mystery man standing in front of you. There was something about him that you couldn’t figure out. He looked young, probably younger than you but looks can be deceiving, nevertheless telling you that there was some sort of innocence or naivety to him, but the obviously fit physique under his clothing telling you that he could and would break your heart in a moment if he had to, the time leading up to that would be like nothing you had experienced before. You didn’t have time or the energy to spend on something you knew would lead to heartbreak, but you felt like you wanted to, like you had to. “I’m not sure I can dance with someone whose name I don’t even know.”

“I’m Trent,” he says, taking your hand and guiding you away from the table. You introduce yourself as his hands snake their way around your waist, holding you close enough that you could feel his heart starting to race against your own chest as your hands met the skin at the back of his neck, your fingers grazing along the collar of the back of his shirt, the two of you not moving at all in sync with the faster beat of the song. Not that you cared. There was something about this boy you were talking to talk to over the music that made you completely disregard the movement around you, forgetting about your phone and what was waiting for you at home for the first time in nearly five years.

You danced for what felt like forever, for what you wanted to last forever, every song passing you by as he listed out song after song that he recognized, most of them country as he claimed he had a country playlist that went on for seven hours, all of them involving him trying to sing bits and pieces of the lyrics off-key, every time pulling a laugh from you.

“I don’t know what I like more,” he starts, resting his forehead against yours as the space between the two of you disappeared, “the music they’re playing or your laugh.”

You roll your eyes, a smile on your face as the heat rushes to your cheeks. “Those lines usually don’t work on me.”

“But?” he asks, his lips ghosting yours.

“But from you, they do,” you tell him, planting your lips on his before he has the chance to say anything else. You didn’t know what it was about Trent; you were never the one to make the first move, you barely interacted with guys at this point since your life was permanently hectic. But Trent was something else. You don’t know what Trent was, you just knew he was different.

His hands were on your back, finding their way to your waist, his grip tightening when you feel someone tap your shoulder. You pull away, a pout on Trent’s face as you turn around to see Molly, waving your phone in your face. “It’s almost midnight.”

“Oh, shoot!” you squeal, taking your phone. “I’m sorry, I have to get home.”

A confused look covers Trent’s face. “Is your Uber going to turn into a pumpkin if you aren’t home, Cinderella?”

You laugh at his joke, going back to your table to grab your stuff. “I’m so sorry,” you repeat, “But I really have to get home.”

“Let me walk you.”

You stop in your tracks as you were rushing out the door. You never brought a guy anywhere near your apartment, knowing that most of them would want to go in, most of them would want to sleep with you if you invited them, most of them would be gone by morning when they found out why you didn’t want them there in the first place. You don’t know why you knew Trent would be different. “No, you don’t have to,” you tell him, instead, even though you wish you could bring him home with you.

Before he can answer, someone calls out his name, pulling the two of you away from each other’s attention. “Trent, we’re leaving.”

Trent looks between you and his friend, the group of guys aggregating around him as they wait for his answer.

“You don’t have to,” you repeat, trying to get out the door because you had to.

“Jack, give me a minute,” Trent calls to his friends, “I want to,” he tells you, taking your arm, turning you towards him. The look in his eyes was sincere, begging you to let him walk you home. “Please?”

You let out a sigh, caving in even though you knew you shouldn’t. “Fine, yeah. Let’s go,” you tell him, taking his hand and leading him out of the bar, his friends left without an answer as they watched the two of you walk away.

Come Together

“I’ve had a really great night. Sorry about my friends, though” Trent apologizes to you again. He explained that he had gone out with them after their game that night, supposed to be spending their off-day tomorrow together, but Trent leaving with you had seemingly changed those plans. As the two of you walked and talked on the way back, his hand never left yours, from the time you left the bar to now standing outside your door. He pulls you in for another kiss, the worries of what was on the other side of the door melting away. You wanted to invite him in, but you weren’t sure if he would even want to once he found out.

Your door opens, Rachel stepping out. “Sorry, it’s almost curfew.”

“Yeah, sure, go ahead,” you tell her, Trent confused by the girl sneaking out of your apartment. “That was Rachel. She’s my babysitter.”

“Babysitter?”

You could feel your face twisting involuntarily at his question. You knew you should have told him before you got home, it would have been easier leaving him at the bar than watching him walk away from you outside your door. Why did you even let him walk you home in the first place? Because he’s hot and you’re dumb, that’s why. “I have a four-year-old son. If you wanted to leave, I would understand. Most guys do when I tell them about Ben,” you spit out, not making eye contact with him. You weren’t ashamed of your son, you just knew people your age got weirded out and panicked at the thought of the responsibility that came with having a child.

He tilts your head up, his eyes flicking between your own and your lips, a lazy smile on his face. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Do you want to stay?”

“If you’ll have me,” he says, kissing you yet again. You bring him inside, showing him Ben’s room first. The two of you stand in the doorway, his arms wrapped around your waist as you lean against the door frame. You feel him kiss the back of your head as you watch Ben wriggle in his sheets before settling down, you taking Trent’s hand and leading him down to your room. You tell him that you don’t want to do anything because of Ben being so close, Trent giving you a sweet smile, kissing you before settling next to you in bed. You had no idea why, but it all felt so domestic, so right that he was there with you in that moment.

“Can I ask you something?” his voice pierces the silence that had fallen between you.

“Sure.”

“Why didn’t you mention Ben before?”

You swallow hard. You weren’t ashamed of having Ben, something you found yourself repeating in your mind every time you told a guy about your son. He was the best part of your life. Everything you did was for him. “We’re young. Being a single mom at our age has such a stigma around it. When guys find out, they normally bolt. I didn’t want you to until the last possible second.” You turn to him, still able to make out his features in the dark, the pout that was forming on his face visible without anything lighting him up.

“You could have told me before we got here,” he says, pain in his voice as he reaches for your face, the pad of his thumb gently grazing over your cheek. “I don’t care if you have a kid. I mean, I do, Ben is part of who you are. But, I would have understood. I understand. You shouldn’t be afraid of telling someone about that part of you. What I know about you so far is pretty amazing, I can only imagine what Ben brings to the table.”

“That seems weirdly out of character for what I know about you,” you tease him, pulling a smile from him.

“Well, maybe, but even a stopped clock is right twice a day, right?”

You kiss him, a feeling of relief washing over you at his words. The two of you spend the rest of the night telling each other about yourselves, keeping quiet for Ben, despite the amount of laughter you let you. You couldn’t remember the last time a guy made you feel so happy, falling asleep with a smile on your face, his arms wrapped around your waist as if that’s where they belonged.

You wake up the next morning, the sun shining into your room, but no Trent. You get out of bed, probably figuring that he had left in the middle of the night, trying to spare your feelings about you having a son. You understood. What guy really wants to get into a relationship with a single mom at this age?

You go to check on Ben, opening the door to his bedroom to find that he wasn’t in his room. You started to panic at the sight of his empty bed, unmade with his blankets in disarray. If Trent was gone, and Ben was gone, where could they be? He wouldn’t kidnap your son, would he? He was a professional athlete, that’s not something he would do, right? Your panic starts to recede when you hear laughter coming from the kitchen.

Trent is standing at the stove, spatula in hand with eggs cooking on the stove, a piece of bread held up to his face with holes bitten out of it where his eyes are, making Ben shriek with laughter. “Sorry. I heard him get up and I didn’t want to wake you, so I started making breakfast. Is that ok?”

You can’t help but smile, going over to Ben. “How’s he doing so far?”

“Mommy, look! French toast!” Ben says, pointing excitedly to the cut-up pieces of bread on his plate.

“French toast?” you repeat, your eyes wide to play along with his excitement. “Give me a bite,” you tell him, opening your mouth as he picks up a piece with his fingers, nearly missing your mouth. You hear Trent laugh, you not containing your own.

You go over to Trent, leaning into him as the two of you watch Ben eat the food Trent made. You feel him kiss the top of your head, his fingers dancing up and down along your arm. You look at his hand, a bandaid on the back of his hand. “What happened to you here?”

“Oh, oops,” he says, looking at his hand. “Got a little cut, but don’t worry, it’s not bad. Dr. Ben here fixed me right up,” he tells you, going over to Ben and ruffling his hair.

Trent hands you a plate of french toast and eggs, pouring you a cup of coffee, kissing you in front of Ben, who either didn’t notice or didn’t mind. No guy had ever stayed the night, let alone stayed and made breakfast for the two of you the next morning.

“So, what were you two talking about before I joined?” you ask, taking another bite of the French Toast. You already knew it was good from what Ben gave you, but you were still devouring it.

“Bears, boots, and battles of galaxias,” Ben lets out, his full mouth spraying crumbs everywhere.

“I’ve been trying to make sense of that all morning. I have no idea what he means. Why does that sound familiar?” Trent asks, sitting down next to you, his hand on your thigh under the table, sending a chill through your entire body as his fingers lazily traced an unknown pattern on your skin.

You take a sip of the coffee he had handed you, setting down your cup and putting your hand on top of his under the table. “He saw that one part of the Office, the identity theft cold opening, where Jim says, ‘Bears, beets, Battlestar Galactica?’ That’s how he remembered it,” you explain, Trent looking over to your son who was fixated on the food in front of him.

“Benny,” Trent calls him, your entire body going numb hearing him call him the same nickname you used for your son, “do you like bears?”

“Bears are the coolest!” he squeals. Everything he saw with a bear on it, he would start begging you to buy him, your heart breaking from the look on his face when you had to tell him no, we don’t need the kitchen towel just because it has a bear on it.

“Can you do your best bear impression for Mom and I?” You felt your heart skip at the sound of Trent calling referring to you as just ‘Mom’ instead of ‘your mom,’ like he was already part of the family. You didn’t even hear Ben growling, his best attempt at being the ‘scary’ Baby Bear that he was just laughing along with Trent.

“Hey, buddy, what if I called you Benny Bear from now on? Do you like that?” Trent asks, Ben nodding excitedly at his nickname.

“You’re nice,” Ben says to Trent while he clears his plate, Ben running off to go play.

You look at Trent, not able to help how you were beaming at him getting along so well with your son. It was like he belonged there with you, and with Ben, making his presence that much better. “That means he likes you.”

“Not trying to pry,” Trent starts, standing beside you at the sink while you wash the dishes, “But how often does he like the guys you bring home?”

You bite your bottom lip, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. “I almost never bring guys home. And when I do, he generally doesn’t talk to them.”

“So he likes me,” he starts, getting closer to you as you nod your head. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you away from the sink. “How about you?”

“That depends,” you flirt, stretching to turn the sink off before draping your arm on his shoulders, twirling his hair through your fingers at the nape of his neck, “do you like me?”

He lets out a small laugh, pulling you in for a kiss. “I do.”

“I like you, too. Help me finish cleaning up and then we’ll go watch Ben, ok?”

The two of you wash dishes in silence, weirdly domestic and comfortable considering you knew this boy all of twelve hours. “Can I ask you something?” Trent breaks the silence, just as he did the night before.

“Sure.”

“Where’s Ben’s dad?” You take in a deep breath, knowing that this would have come up eventually. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” he continues, a wash of panic over his face at the thought of asking something too personal too soon.

You shake your head, smiling at him to try to calm him down. “No, no, that’s fine. Um, we were together when we were in college, but we broke up. I started feeling like shit so I went to the doctor and she told me, ‘Congrats! You’re two months pregnant!’”

“Does he know about Ben?” Trent asks quietly.

“Yeah. Yeah, he does. I told him when I found out because I knew Ben was his. I told him that I was going to keep the baby and since we weren’t together anymore, he had the choice of either being present and helping out or if he didn’t want the responsibility, then that was fine, too.”

He didn’t know what about the way you were talking was making him feel this way. A lump in his throat was forming looking at your eyes start to shine with the threat of tears while you refused to make eye contact with him. You rarely talked about Ben’s father, making the decision a long time ago that he wasn’t worth your time thinking about since he didn’t want much to do with his own son. “And he didn’t?”

“He sends a present to Ben on his birthdays and Christmas, but other than that nothing really. I’m not even sure if Ben’s made the connection between the presents and his father yet. Like I said, though, I gave him the choice.”

“Do you regret anything?”

“I could never regret Ben or anything with him. I almost regret giving his father the choice, though. Being a parent isn’t easy, even if you have someone to take up half the work, but it’s even harder when it’s just you by yourself, you know? And I’ve gotten help, but it would be different if Ben had his dad as a constant in his life. Ben’s only seen him a few times, anyway. He calls him Andy instead of dad, and it’s just,” you stop, trying to find the word, “heartbreaking seems too severe, seeing him not acknowledge his dad as his dad, but what can you do?”

Trent didn’t know what to say. He was practically still a child himself when you really look at him. He couldn’t imagine having his own at this point in his life, let alone raising one on his own. “I’m sorry,” is all he can get out, trying not to cry even though he could hear Ben’s laughter ringing from the other room, sending a weird sense of joy through him at the same time.

“No, it’s fine. I would rather do this alone than do this with someone who didn’t want Ben to begin with. You can’t be a parent if you aren’t all in.”

He had no idea why, but he already felt so connected to Ben. There was no reason why, but he did. “I’m in.”

You turn back to him, shocked, confused, not even sure if you heard what he said properly. “What?”

“I’m in with you. With Ben. If you’ll let me. I want to see you again, keep seeing you. And that includes Ben. He already likes me, after all.” Trent was used to making snap decisions, on the ice, off the ice, wherever. He knew this was one, but this one felt like his best one.

“You don’t have to, you have your own life with hockey and everything,” you try to insist, cut off by Trent’s lips connecting with yours.

“I want to. Let’s go play with Ben.”

Angel

“Are you sure this is safe?” you ask him for what was probably the millionth time, getting out of his car in front of the rink.

He runs around to get Ben out of his car seat, you grabbing the stuff he had stashed in the trunk. “Yes, I promise it is. The guys bring their kids all the time and they’re way younger than Ben.” He had invited you and Ben to the family skate the team was having, you reluctant to go since Ben had never been skating before. Naturally, you were worried he would get hurt, either by falling down or being curious about the skate and somehow cutting himself, something you were sure he would do if given the chance.

You two had been together for about a month, Ben falling head over heels for Trent, jumping up and down whenever he saw him on TV. Much to your dismay, Ben loved it when Trent was fighting, begging you to let him play hockey so he could fight just like Trent. You loved taking videos of his excitement despite that fear of him skating and fighting like Trent, sending them to him to see during the game, Trent always making sure to FaceTime you the next afternoon when you got home from work if you two couldn’t meet up so that he could talk to Ben. He was acting like the dad Ben never had.

And that was terrifying to you. The thought of you and Trent breaking up and him suddenly leaving Ben’s life was the reason why you never got close with a guy before. You didn’t want Ben to go through that. You didn’t want to go through that.

But there you were, sitting rinkside at the Garden as you tried to tie up the skates that Trent got for Ben, his feet swinging back and forth in excitement no matter how much you tried to get him to stop for a moment.

“Are you excited, Benny Bear?” Trent asks, picking him up and walking out to the ice.

“Yeah!” he says, squirming around and clearly ready to go.

You weren’t sure if you were more nervous about Ben being on the ice for the first time, Trent already showing him how to skate, or you formally meeting all his teammates for the first time, that night at the bar not really counting. The three of you step onto the ice, Ben in between you two, practically swinging in the air as you both held his hands while you skate.

“You’re nervous?” Trent asks, reading the expression on your face.

“They look like they didn’t know about Ben.” You saw the looks you were getting from the guys' families as you and Trent were skating around with Ben between you. You knew they were looks of confusion, but you couldn't help but think that they were the same looks when you went out with Ben in general, the societal disapproval of being a young mother, no ring on that finger to show that this was planned with another parent on the other side. People were judgemental; it was in their nature, but you were hoping Trent’s teammates were accepting like Trent had been.

“Um, I guess I didn’t tell them? I didn’t think I needed to,” he says, looking down at your son. Ben was beaming, not paying attention to what you two were talking about, not that he would probably understand it if he was. Trent didn’t think it would be a big deal to have your son around. The guys knew he was seeing you, but was it really that big a deal that you have Ben? He looks over at you, the scared look that was on your face worrying him. “We can just tell him he’s your nephew or your little brother?” he whispers so Ben doesn’t hear.

“Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know. You don’t seem to want them to know he’s your son?”

You stop skating, pulling Trent over to the side while holding onto Ben’s hand as he begs to pull away and take a lap on his own, something you weren’t going to let him do. “I told you I’m not ashamed of Ben,” you hiss at him.

“I’m not saying that you are. I’m just saying if you’re scared of what people would think we could just tell them something else.”

You look at him for a moment, trying to properly process his words. “Am I scared of what people think, or are you?”

He steps back, careful not to fall on whoever's kid was zooming past him at that moment, Ben begging to go skate with him. “Hey, Zach,” he calls Patrice’s son over. “If he takes Ben is that ok?”

You knew you shouldn’t say yes, but you didn’t need Ben hearing this conversation, no matter how oblivious he might have been to begin with. “If you trust him, fine.”

“Zach,” Trent starts, crouching down to their level, his hands on Ben’s shoulders so he can’t skate away before he’s done, “Can you take care of my guy Ben here? Make sure he doesn’t fall? Go skate to your dad.” Zach and Ben practically rush off with each other to Zach’s dad, eager to skate around and surprisingly good for their age. “What do you mean I’m scared?”

“Who’s the one suggesting that we don’t tell your teammates that Ben is my son? We’ve been out together when people ask if he’s my brother, my nephew, if I’m his nanny, and every single time you’ve seen me correct them. I told you I’m not ashamed of Ben. And to come here and have everyone giving us looks because they’re trying to figure out who he is to you makes it seem like you are. You couldn’t even tell the guys you claim are like your family about Ben. He’s not old enough for that hurt, but I am.”

He looks down at the ice, shuffling back and forth on his skates. “I’m sorry.”

You move closer to him, tempted to reach out and hold him. He looked just as hurt as you felt, part of you glad that he was actually showing he was sympathetic instead of just saying it. “Are you ashamed of Ben?”

His head snaps to you, a look of disbelief on his face. He starts shaking his head, the curls on his head that were loose enough going wild with his movement. “I’m crazy about that kid. I know why you aren’t ashamed of him because I don’t think I could ever be.” Trent turns around to find Ben on the ice, skating around with the other kids, some of the guys playing a small game with them, Ben with his own little stick. He watches Ben score on whoever was playing goalie, Ben shrieking with joy. Trent couldn’t help but smile, turning to you. “He means more to me than I thought someone else's child could.”

“Then why didn’t you tell them about Ben?” you ask him.

He shrugs, sticking out his bottom lip. “Because I’m dumb.”

You can’t help but laugh, hooking your fingers in his belt loops to pull him close to you. “Well, I do call you a stupid muppet,” you joke, earning a groan from him, “Hey, I say it with affection and you did say I could call you that.”

He cups your face and kisses you, momentarily forgetting his teammates and their families around you. “We could go tell them now?” he suggests, his forehead pressed against yours.

“Do you want to?”

Trent starts skating over to the rest of the guys, Ben giggling and playing with the rest of the kids. The two of you start talking to his teammates, introducing yourself to Jack and Jeremy, keeping your eye on Ben while he plays as you wait for Trent to finally say something about him.

“Trent! Trent!” Ben’s voice tears you two away from the conversation. “I’m you!” he yells, using the stick to try to shoot the puck, instead missing the puck and falling down on the ice. He was trying to process what just happened, hopefully not meaning to do what he did.

You look at Trent’s face, his teammates laughing while his face turned red. Ben shoots back up and starts skating again, Trent beaming at him. “That was cold,” he says to you, a smile on his face anyway.

“You know he didn’t mean it,” you tell him, squeezing his bicep before skating over to your son. You lift him up off the ice, thankful that he was still small enough to do that as you kiss his cheek and skate around with just him for a bit.

Trent couldn’t take his eyes off you, his teammates doing everything they could to try to peel his attention away from you. He watched you interact with Ben, the same light in your eyes when he looked at your son.

“Dude?” Jack finally succeeds in bringing Trent back down to Earth, “is that her brother?”

Trent shakes his head, turning back to you. “Nope, that’s her son.”

“Son? What are you thinking?” Jack asked. He knew what he meant. Trent was young. You were young. Having a kid was something real adults did, not whatever definition of adult he fell under.

Trent shrugs, watching you and Ben laugh and smile as you skated around, talking with some of the guys' girlfriends as they coo over Ben. “I’ve been better since I started seeing her.”

“You were fine before you started seeing her,” one of them mumbles.

He rolls his eyes, turning back to them. “Come on. I was fine but I wasn’t great. All I did was punch a few guys and get a couple of secondary assists. Even Butch said something about my play last game. Everything in my life is better with Y/N in it. And Ben.”

He didn’t hear what the guys were saying, and honestly, he didn’t care either. He loved your son, probably not as much as you did, but he felt like he was getting there. He wanted to get there.

Because he loved you.

Dream On

“Where are you?” Molly's voice comes through your phone, panicked and irritated. “I thought you were coming in today?”

“What are you talking about? Today’s my day off.” You were at home, sitting on the couch with the tv playing in the background while Ben played with his toys in front of you. It was one of the rare days that you could spend from the time you woke up until you went to sleep with your son, and you had no real intention of changing those plans, which is what it sounded like Molly was going to ask you to do.

“Well, you know that funding we secured for that new project?”

“Yeah?” you say, Ben coming up to you, trying to show you something. “Hold on, Benny. What’s going on, Mol?”

“They’re getting cold feet.”

“You’re joking.”

“No, we need you here. You and DeAndre were the ones who got them in the first place, and he’s already here. Please?”

You take in a deep breath, trying to figure out if anyone is free to watch Ben. You couldn’t bring him in and have him running around the office while you were trying to convince a major investor to give you the money promised. “I have to find a babysitter but I’ll be there as soon as I can,” you sigh, wracking your brain as to who would be free. Rachel couldn’t typically do weekends, but maybe she could if you promised to pay her extra? But then there was the issue of: did you have the money to pay her extra?

You start scrolling through your contacts, trying to figure out if anyone in there would be able to watch your son, running into your room to get changed to look at least a little presentable.

Trent’s name pops up, calling you with what you hoped would be somewhat perfect timing. “Hey, babe, what’s up?” you answer, your phone on your bed as you try to find something to wear.

“What am I looking at?”

“I’m changing for work and my phone is on my bed, so the ceiling.”

“I thought it was your day off?” he asks as you throw what seemed to be the only clean work shirt that you could find. You knew you were forgetting to do something today, now you realized it was laundry.

“Molly called saying that I need to go in and now I have to find someone to watch Ben or else I’m going to have to bring him in with me, which doesn’t seem like a good idea. And most of my friends are from work or have their own lives and can’t watch him, Rachel can’t do weekends, but I guess I could ask her if she has any friends who could watch him last minute.”

“Y/N.”

“But then I have to pay them and since it’s so last minute I would need to give them more money, right?”

“Y/N.”

“I guess I could, but I think I would also have to pay for meals, and then I have no idea what time I’m going to get home, and whenever that is I’m going to have to do laundry, and-”

“Hey. Earth to Y/N. I can watch him,” Trent finally cuts you off long enough to get a word in.

You were hesitant; Trent had never been left alone with Ben, and probably never left alone with a four-year-old ever by your assumptions. “No, no, I can’t ask you to do that,” you tell him, picking up your phone to see him.

“I’m serious! You just said you need a babysitter, I was going to ask if I could come over and see you before the road trip, anyway.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, biting your lip. Did you trust Trent enough to let him watch and take care of Ben? If you could trust Rachel, a girl who still had a curfew and couldn’t even drive her friends in the same car as her, why couldn’t you trust your boyfriend?

“Of course!” he says, clearly getting up and walking around what you think was his apartment. “I’m leaving right now, I’ll be there in ten.”

He hangs up and leaves you to finish getting ready, hurrying through trying to make yourself look presentable and finding the stuff that you needed. You couldn’t find your work bag, or your computer, mentally cursing yourself for the one time you didn’t leave it in your closet like you normally did.

“Hey, Benny? Have you seen Mommy’s computer and bag?” you go into your living room to where you left Ben. He shakes his head, his overall attention not leaving whichever toy he was fixated on. “Great,” you mutter under your breath, trying to find it. “Ben, how about you and I play a game?” you ask him, getting down in front of him. “If you can help me find my blue bag and my computer, someone really special will come over tonight!”

Ben gets up and starts looking for you, hoping that you can find it before Trent actually gets to your place. “Mommy! I found it!” Ben comes running to you, your bag nearly as big as him as he struggles to carry it to you.

You take it from him, kissing his head as he goes running off, a knock at your door just in time. Opening it, you see Trent on the other side, a bag in his hand. Kissing him hello, you tell him, “I owe you big time.”

“We can discuss payment when you get home. And I have some ideas as to how you could pay me,” he says, bringing you in for a kiss.

“Trent!” Ben runs over, interrupting.

Trent practically launches himself off you, picking up Ben and hugging him while your son’s laughter and happiness fill your home. “Benny Bear!” He gives Ben the bag, telling him to open it.

“A bear!” Ben jumps up and down with the small stuffed animal that Trent had gotten him.

“What does a bear say?” Trent asks, both of them going, “grrrrr,” with their hands curled like claws, their faces scrunched. You felt yourself melting at the sight of Trent getting along so well with Ben, your son running around in circles with his new toy that he would probably say is his favorite since it came from Trent.

“Did you buy him a Benny Bear?” you gush, bringing him in for a hug.

“I saw it when I was on the road and had to get it for the little guy.”

“You love him,” you tell him, not needing to ask since you already knew what his answer would be if you did.

“Of course. But you have to get to work,” he tells you, pushing you off him.

“I’ll pay you for whatever you get for dinner, order what you want, within reason for him.”

“You don’t have to pay me back, and I’ll make sure to get him lots of candy,” he jokes, earning a look from you. “I’m joking,” he says, throwing his hands up in defense. “Go, go to work. I’ve got this.”

“If you need anything call me, or even one of the guys who have kids. If you trust them, I’ll trust them.” You kiss him again, yell goodbye to your son and remind him to behave for Trent. You were nervous about leaving Ben alone with him, but if you wanted to be serious about this guy, you had to do it at some point, right?

You close the door, leaving Ben and Trent alone on the other side as you try to think about how you and DeAndre can now keep your investors from pulling money, practically running down the hall so that you can get to your car.

Trent turns around, Ben already sitting back down on the floor and playing away with his toys. He had no idea how to watch a four-year-old. He takes in a deep breath, sitting on the ground with Ben, his back leaning up against your couch. “Alright, Benny, what do you want to do?”

Ben hands Trent a toy, starting to ramble on about whatever magical world he’s conjured up that Trent was no part of. He had no idea what he was doing, trying to follow along with your son’s imagination as best as he could.

Trent didn’t know how you did it. Ben was a ball of energy all the time, and at home seemed to be no exception. Trent was chasing him around as they played ‘Bear catcher,’ which Trent wasn’t really sure the rules of in the first place, just following around your four-year-old through your apartment while he sprinted, jumped, hid, crawled, and did every other action that Trent felt too old for.

Ben finally sits down and focuses on the tv when he hears some song coming from it, the first moments that Trent can sit down as well, hoisting himself onto the cushions. His phone starts buzzing, a call from Jack coming in. “Hey, what’s up?”

“What are you doing right now?” Jack’s voice comes through the phone as Ben gets up again, starting to run around with the bear Trent bought him.

“I’m watching Ben.”

“Since when are you a babysitter?” Jack asks, judgment dripping in his voice.

“Since Y/N needed a babysitter and I was free.” Ben climbs up on the couch and starts jumping, Trent suddenly feeling a wash of panic over him at the thought of Ben falling and getting hurt. Jack starts saying something that Trent knew he didn’t want to hear anyway, giving him the perfect excuse to cut him off. “Hey, Ben, you’ve gotta be careful. Sorry, dude, I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.”

He hangs up before Jack can get another word in. “Hey, Benny. Mom said we could order dinner,” he says, pulling Ben into his lap in hopes that he would calm down long enough so he could talk to him. Ben squirms as his energy never seems to stop, Trent doing everything he can to try to figure this out. “What sounds good to you?”

“Ice cream!”

Trent lets out a small laugh, Ben’s face glowing at the thought of ice cream for dinner. “No, bud, you can’t have ice cream for dinner.”

“Ice cream! Ice cream!” Ben wriggles free of Trent’s grasp, repeating the phrase over and over again as he sets off running around again.

Trent was way in over his head. He didn’t think that Ben would have this much energy for this long. Whenever he was with you, it was either during the day and Ben stayed relatively calm, or when you were playing, he had you to help counteract and keep Ben from being the seemingly crazy child that he was right now. He could call you and ask what to do, but from how you sounded on the phone and when he came over, you were way too stressed out to also have to worry about Ben at that moment. He could call one of his teammates who actually knew what they were doing when it came to child care, but Jack’s words from the family skate practically haunted him. He wasn’t in too over his head when he was with you, or when he was with you and Ben. But just Ben? Not going too well.

“Benny Bear, come here,” Trent says, reaching out to catch Ben as he runs by the couch. “How about, we get something else to eat, and if you eat all of it, I’ll get you ice cream?” he asks, making a mental note to at least text you to ask if it was ok that he have it. Ben nods his head since Trent technically said he could have ice cream. “What do you want?”

“Mac and cheese!”

“What about,” he starts, pulling out his phone. “Some chicken fingers?” Something told him cheese and ice cream wasn’t going to end well for Ben’s stomach that night, and by default, it wasn’t going to end well for Trent, either.

Ben nods, going back off and running around the room. He had to tire out at some point, right?

“Hello?” you answer your phone, Trent calling you to make sure his dinner plans were ok.

“Hey, Ben said he wanted ice cream, but I told him only if he eats his dinner, and I had to make sure it was alright with you, first.”

“What did you settle on?”

“Chicken fingers?”

He hears someone calling your name in the background, you yelling something back to them in panic. “Yeah, there might be some in the freezer? If not, just tell him that the ice cream fairy is coming later and he can have it tomorrow, or something. There are also some carrots in the fridge, too. Tell him he has to eat some of those if he wants ice cream, even if I don’t have any. Have some with him, pretend they’re spaceships, and play with them before you eat them, that normally distracts him long enough.”

“That works?”

“Trent, he’s four. Most things like that do.” He hears more yelling from your end, Ben coming zooming by him yet again, nearly tripping over Trent’s feet. “I’ve gotta run. Love you, bye.”

You hang up before Trent can react. You hadn’t told each other that you loved the other yet. He knew he loved you, but he didn’t know if you loved him back. But you just said it, and he didn’t even know if you meant it since you said it in such a hurried context. He hoped you meant it. He can’t even focus while he’s ordering dinner, not really sure what he was having other than the carrots you mentioned were in the fridge.

Trent just sits there while he waits for the food to arrive, getting the carrots out and trying to see if there was anything close to ice cream, or even yogurt that he could throw in the freezer for Ben while he continues to zoom around your apartment. “Hey, Benny, look!” he says, holding up the carrots. “Spaceships!”

This felt like he was talking to a dog, which seemed weird, but at this rate, Ben was tiring him out so fast he didn’t know what to do. He and Ben start playing with the carrots, watching your son eat what was in front of him when the doorbell rang for food.

Ben keeps playing with food, something Trent thought you probably wouldn’t like too much, but at this point, he didn’t know if he should care. He had no idea how you did this. There was no way Ben had this much energy every night, right? He had never seen you exhausted, so Ben couldn’t be a ball of energy all the time. At least, that’s what he convinced himself as he sat there eating his food.

Eventually, Ben goes to sleep, Trent helping get him ready for bed and tucking him in. You had texted that you weren’t sure when you were going to be home, but Trent was free to stay the night instead of driving back home regardless of what time you would be back, something he gladly took you up on.

Trent finally settles down after finding a pair of sweats he left at your place a while ago, collapsing onto the couch in complete exhaustion from Ben’s running.

“Trent?” he hears Ben’s small voice coming from down the hall, pulling Trent away from the trance he fell in trying to stay awake until you got home. “Trent!”

He runs down the hall at the sound of the increased panic in your son’s voice, not sure what he was supposed to expect when he practically burst through his bedroom door. “Buddy, what’s wrong?”

Ben was breathing heavily when Trent got close to his bed, clutching his sheets to his chest, “I had a bad dream.”

Trent sits down on Ben’s bed, a sad smile on his face. “Ah, Benny, it’s all over now. You’re safe.” Ben nods his head, a terrified look still on his face. He pulls Ben in for a hug, kissing the top of his head, Ben’s small arms wrapping around Trent’s own. “How about I read you a story to help you fall asleep?”

Ben nods, jumping out of bed and getting a book for Trent. “Goodnight Lab?” Trent reads, a confused look on his face.

“Mommy likes science,” Ben offers as his explanation.

“Of course she does,” he says, opening the book, putting his arm around your son as Ben cuddles up against Trent’s chest. “In the great green lab, there was a laser, and a lab notebook, and a picture of Einstein with a stern look,” he starts, already seeing Ben’s eyes getting heavy.

You finally get back home, seeing the light on, no one in the living room. Wandering through your apartment, you hear Trent’s voice coming from Ben’s room, finding him there with your son, him asleep against Trent’s chest as he whispers the end of the book to him, “Goodnight liquid nitrogen, goodnight compressed air, goodnight scientists everywhere.”

You stand in the doorway, Trent not noticing you as he slips himself from Ben, your son curling up with his blankets. Trent bends down to kiss him on the head, tiptoeing out of the room.

“Hi,” you whisper, closing Ben’s door behind you, giving Trent a kiss hello. “What was that?”

“He had a nightmare, so I read him a story to calm him down and get him back to sleep,” he explains.

“That’s so sweet of you,” you tell him, leading him down the hall to your room.

He shrugs, closing the door behind you. “My mom used to do it for me and my siblings. I always told myself that I would do it for my son or daughter.” You don’t know what to say, just pulling him in for a kiss, down on your bed. He pulls away, a smile on his face, “Oh, and I love you too,” he tells you, hoping that Ben didn’t wake up and hear what you two were about to do next.

Sweet Emotion

“Happy birthday, Benny!” Trent says, taking a video of your son as he blew out the candle on the small cupcake in front of him. Your son’s fifth birthday was spent out with Trent, starting with him making breakfast again, taking the two of you to the park and Boston Commons as he played with Ben the entire time, out to dinner where you were now, treating you the entire way. Ben didn't even care about the gift that you had gotten from Andy, something he had previously looked forward to every year. Ben was starting to see Trent as a father figure, something that was both terrifying and exciting to you.

If Trent, for whatever reason, stopped wanting to be part of your life, that would mean he would also probably leave Ben’s, a boy who already didn’t know his father and didn’t seem to want to know him. But he wanted to know Trent, he loved Trent, and you knew Trent loved him, too. You were just afraid he would fall out of love.

Ben was giggling as Trent smashed part of the cupcake against his nose, the bright red frosting making him look like Rudolph as he tried, and failed, to lick it off himself.

“Did you get that part, too?” you ask Trent, leaning over to see his screen.

“Yeah, I’ll send it to you. Do you mind if I post it to my private story? Some of the guys and their wives would go crazy for this.”

“Only the private one,” you tell him, laughing as you turn to Ben to see his face more of a mess than before, the red frosting now spread to his cheeks, “Benny, what happened?”

“I’m painting,” he says, using his finger to smear the frosting on his face.

Trent can’t help but laugh, you pulling Ben in for a hug. Trent snaps a picture of you kissing the frosting off his face. “Wait a sec,” he says, calling over a waiter to take a picture of the three of you, both of you kissing Ben’s cheek as he beams at the camera.

You see him set his phone down, notifications lighting the screen up as you guys get ready to leave, the picture of the three of you his new phone background.

The next morning, Trent had morning skate before needing to get ready for their game that night. The last game before the All-Star Weekend marking the halfway point of the season was always both nerve-wracking and exciting, the hypothetical of ‘if the season ended today, would you be in or out of the playoffs?’ always on everyone’s mind even though it meant virtually nothing, but still wanting to stay at one of the top spots in the league regardless.

“Hey, what was with that story yesterday?” Jack asks him after practice.

“It was Ben’s birthday,” he shrugs.

“Isn’t it weird?” Zach asks. “She has a kid. She’s a mom. You aren’t a dad.”

“I never said I was his dad,” he defends himself, starting to take on a hostile tone.

“Well, you’re acting like his dad, aren’t you?”

Trent rolls his eyes as his only response. What was he supposed to do? Ignore that you have a child? Trent gets up to leave, Jack now standing in front of him to stop him.

“You’re with them all the time. You watch him when Y/N is busy. You brought them to family skate. You know his favorite toys, his favorite tv shows, you facetime them every night before the game because he’s going to be asleep by the time the game is over. You’re not his dad,” Jack lists to Trent, Trent getting more angry with every word that comes from his friend.

“What am I supposed to do? Pretend that Ben isn’t part of her life? Pretend that she has no kid? I can’t do that. I don’t want to do that.”

“It’s messing with you, Trent!” Jack yells, the rest of the remaining guys getting quiet. “You don’t do this. You don’t date a girl who has a child and play ‘house’ with her. You’re the guy who just fucks around and has fun. Where did he go?”

“I can’t change? I can’t settle down because I wasn’t settled before?” Trent responds, knowing that his face was bright red, “I love Y/N, and I love Ben. I don’t care if you think it’s ‘not normal.’ It’s what I want and you don’t really get a say in that.” Jack stands there, stunned by his friends' words, still struggling to find them as Trent grabs his bag and walks out of the room to go home before the game.

He wanted to call you and talk about it with you, but what was he going to say? ‘The guys think my dating you is weird since you have a son?’ The flash of your expression appeared in his mind when you realized the guys didn’t know about Ben at family skate, the pain he knew you felt when you thought he was ashamed of Ben. He wasn’t then and he isn’t now.

But what was he doing? Jack was right: he wasn’t Ben’s dad. He could never really be Ben’s dad. Why did your son mean so much to him if he had no relation to the child in the first place?

Why did he have to say he was all in? He was supposed to be focusing on himself and his hockey, not a girl he met at a bar and pouring all his excess energy into you and your son. What was he supposed to do? Pull back? Pull you away from your son? There was no way that was going to be an option, and there was no way that was an option he wanted to follow.

He was supposed to be following his normal pre-game traditions and routines, not having his mind run rampant over the thought of you and Ben and what his teammates think.

He pulls out his phone, a notification from Instagram telling him that you had responded to his story a few hours ago while he was at practice. Trent opens it, seeing the picture of Ben, looking so happy with the cupcake that was all his, the red frosting seconds from being smeared all over his face. Trent didn’t think about being a dad anytime soon. He really never had any intention of settling down, at least not yet, not seriously, yet there he was, thinking of Ben like his own son, head over heels for you and your son.

It was too much, wasn’t it?

His phone started buzzing with texts from the guys to make sure that he was ok after they watched his and Jack’s blow up in the locker room. Trent didn’t even care about them at this point, knowing that he should at least answer them even just to tell them to leave him alone for the time being.

But what if they were right? Jack’s words kept ringing through his head, that he was just a guy who had fun because that’s what he wanted, not a guy who settled down with a girlfriend, and especially not a guy who settled down with a girl who had a toddler.

He spent the entire time he was supposed to be taking a nap going back and forth between whether or not he was in too deep or if he was fine because he was in love. The night he met you, he had never intended to get this far in with you. He had just wanted to hook up, the reason he went home with you in the first place. But as soon as you told him about Ben, seeing the crushed look on your face at the prospect of him leaving because of your son, he knew that he couldn’t just be one and done. There was something about you and Ben that he had to be part of it once he was introduced, that part of his life that he never knew was missing until he realized he couldn’t picture his life without you.

And it was just too much.

Attitude Adjustment

Trent finally gets to the Garden, not even remembering who they were playing that night. He couldn’t think about anyone else, almost tempted to tell Bruce that he was sick so he could be a late scratch instead of letting this mess with him. Because no matter what he did, he couldn’t get out of his head and focus. The music that he normally played before a game wasn’t working, even so much as trying to close his eyes and picture being on the ice while he was in the locker room before the game.

No one approached him while he was in his stall, probably out of fear of another outburst from him. He wasn’t even paying attention when Bergeron gave his traditional pre-game motivational speech before they all went out to the ice, Trent skating around by himself in hopes of being able to focus before they played the Flames that night.

“Alright, what’s going on?” he hears someone say, not even noticing who came up to him in the first place.

He looks at Brad, suddenly thankful that there was someone on the team who knew what he was going through. “Katrina already had Sloane when you two met, right?”

“Y/N and Ben on your mind?”

“You were in the locker room after practice.”

The two of them skate around their half of the ice, the time before the game ticking down. “When you date a woman, when any two people date, there’s always going to be something that can get in the way and potentially break you up. That includes their family, their kids if they have them. You need to decide if you want to let Ben break you and Y/N up or if you’re going to take him in and not let him do that.”

The guys were migrating back to the bench, Brad still on the ice for the starting lineup. “It worked for you, though,” Trent says, hanging back as long as he could, his eyes darting back and forth between the clock and his teammate.

Brad shrugs, looking out to the blue line where Bergeron and Pastrnak were already waiting. “I don’t see Sloane as any less of my son than I see Sawyer as my daughter. It worked for me. If you want it to work for you, then you have to make it work.”

The buzzer sounds, Bruce yelling for Trent to get off the ice and onto the bench. Did he want this to work with you and Ben? What the three of you had was already great, but Trent had barely spent any time with you, a time when you and he could just be a couple without worry of anyone else.

Trent’s line goes out on the ice, his mind still occupied as he skates. The puck touches his stick, him making a mad dash towards the Flames net, only to get tangled up with Tkachuk, sending Trent to the ice. He doesn’t get up for a minute, trying to process what happened, an easy shot and probably goal just messed up, leading to a breakaway to the other end to put the Flames up 1-0 against the Bruins.

By the time he can finally get himself up, Bruce is yelling at him that if he messes up like that again then he’s benched the rest of the game, definitely not a good look going into the All-Star break. He gets back out on the ice, the same thing happening with him tripping on a breakaway, this time over himself instead of a Flame, again leading to them scoring and putting them up 2-0. He couldn’t get out of his head. Trent sat there the entire time, not even focusing on the game, not focusing on the comeback his own team had to win the game 4-3.

He didn’t talk to anyone in the locker room, rushing out as soon as he could to go home, hearing Brad’s voice carry through the hallway to the elevators as he explained what he knew about the situation, no doubt that Jack offered his own remarks that Trent was sure would have lead to them fighting right there.

He had never wanted to fight one of his teammates over shit they said before, let alone one of his best friends. Other guys on other teams? Sure. But Jack?

Trent gets into his car, his phone already blowing up, asking him if he had still wanted to come on the trip to Puerto Rico he and the guys had planned with their girlfriends a while back. He had completely forgotten about the trip, no one even mentioning it for the longest time, not even sure that it was actually booked by anyone.

What surprised him most was Jack asking in the group if you were going to come with them, followed by a separate text saying that he meant it, that he wanted you to come.

Maybe this is what you and Trent needed; a trip with the guys, the two of you able to spend some time alone and just be with each other without the constant worry of someone or something else. He texted back that he would be there, not sure about you yet.

“Hello?” you answer your phone, Ben’s coming through the background. Hearing him made Trent hesitate, swallowing hard.”Trent?”

“Yeah, uh,” he swallows again, “Sorry, um, mind if I stop by for a few minutes?”

You sit up from the couch, looking at the mess you didn’t even realize Ben had created during the game. “Yeah, sure. I’ll see you soon?” you say, hearing him start up his car.

“Yeah, awesome,” he says, hanging up before either of you could say anything else, practically speeding out of the Garden as fast as he could to get to you. The more he thought about it, the more excited he was about spending a week with you.

“Hey, Benny, guess who’s coming over soon?” you put on a cheery voice, crouching down to the floor where Ben was playing with his toys.

Your toddler started bouncing up and down, his arms waving around in excitement. “Trent?” he squeals.

“He should be here any minute, help me pick up some of your toys, ok?”

You and Ben start to scramble to pick everything up. You knew Trent wouldn’t normally care if there were toys on the ground, but there was something about the tone of his voice when he called to tell you that he was stopping by that worried you.

You had watched the game, you weren’t stupid that he had had an awful game, thankful that it was an earlier evening game that Ben could watch with you. Even he was upset when Trent fell, both times, getting benched and hearing Jack and Brick speculate what was up with one of their favorite players.

Ben continued to buzz around as you waited, thankful that he couldn’t sense the anxiety that was building up while waiting for Trent. You hear him knocking on the door, getting up while Ben seems to be oblivious to the sound. You smile when you see him, mirroring his own expression, the complete opposite of what you expected given the conversation you had minutes ago.

“I have something to ask you,” he starts, his hands on your waist as he starts walking you backward down the hall, seemingly toward your bedroom.

“Trent! Trent!” Ben comes up to the two of you, bouncing up and down, Trent's hands releasing their grip on you. “Are you coming on Friday?” Ben asks him, referencing his concert at school that Trent had promised to come to.

You saw the smile on Trent’s face fade at Ben’s words, a nervous look taking over as he knelt down to look Ben in the eye. “I really want to see your concert, buddy, but I’m not sure if I can make it. I’m gonna try, though, ok?” he tries to save face when he sees the crushed look on your son’s face.

Ben nods, not understanding what Trent was really saying to him. In his world, Trent saying he wasn’t sure meant he didn’t want to see him sing with his other classmates. “Um, Ben, why don’t you go play in your room for a little bit, ok?” you ask him, guiding him to his room, watching him run down the hall. You turn to your boyfriend, clearly confused by what he just told Ben. “It’s the All-Star break, what came up?”

“The guys and I are going away for the break, and I want you to come with me.”

“What are you talking about? You said you were staying here?” you ask him, praying that Ben doesn’t come out of his room and couldn’t hear any of this.

“I know, I know, but, come on, things change,” he says, taking your hand and trying to lead back down your hallway.

“Wait, Trent, come on,” you stop him, turning him around to face you. “You want Ben and I to come with you on a trip with the guys? What guys, where are you going?”

His expression drops again, “I was kinda hoping it would just be me and you.”

“And where would Ben be? I can’t just leave him alone. I can’t go away with you.”

“But, Y/N, come on,” he whines. “This could be so good for us. A few days, just you and me, no distractions, nothing stopping us from just being together, like a real couple.”

“Distractions? A real couple? Trent, what the,” you stop, realizing you were standing right outside of Ben’s door. You look between Trent and the door, Trent’s pleading expression as you take him down the hall, practically slamming the door to your own bedroom. “What the fuck are you talking about?” you hiss.

He sits on your bed, you still standing, towering over him. He puts his hands in his face, letting out a deep breath. “I’m,” he starts, “I just want time where it’s you and me. Other than that night at the bar, we almost never have had more than a few hours when you and I are alone. I need to get out of Boston for a bit, and I don’t want anyone with me beside you.”

“Trent, I can’t,” you protest, sitting down next to him.

“Yes, please, just say, yes.”

“No, Trent. You aren’t hearing what I’m saying.”

“I am, I just-”

“Ok, then you aren’t listening! I can’t just drop everything on a moment’s notice and go off with you on a vacation. I have a kid, and if you haven’t noticed, I can’t exactly afford a babysitter for more than two nights in a row, let alone watching him all day every day for an entire week.”

“Don’t worry, I can pay for one, I just need to get out of here, and I need you with me.”

“Trent, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Ben can stay with a sitter.”

“Don’t you get it? Ben comes first. Ben has to come first. When it comes to a decision between you and Ben, or anyone and Ben, my choice is always Ben. There is never a case when I’ll pick something or someone over him, especially not going on some trip with you and your frat boy-like teammates because you’re upset you had one bad game. I choose him every single time. Especially over you, Trent.”

“What about Ben’s father? Can’t he stay with Andy?”

You can’t help but gasp, hurt by what you thought Trent meant. “You mean the father that didn’t want him? I. Told you. This,” you say, standing up again, “Andy wants nothing to do with Ben. And right now it seems like neither do you.” You could feel the tears threatening to roll down your cheeks, turning around and heading out of your room. You couldn’t look at him. You had no idea where you were going to go, given that you had Ben in his room and couldn’t leave him.

“Y/N, please, I’m sorry,” he runs after you, stopping you before you reached the door. “I just want a few days, where it’s you and me. Where everything is easy for us. Where there’s nothing, no one, besides you and me.”

“This isn’t supposed to be easy. You knew it wasn’t going to be so why are you so shocked that this is how it is?” you tell him, the tears finally falling.

The two of you stand there for a minute, Trent starting to reach for you a few times before running his hands through his hair. “It’s me and Ben, or neither of us,” you give him an ultimatum. His mouth opens and closes like a fish, wishing he can find the words. “Fine. If you can’t make the decision, I will. Get out.”

“Y/N, come on.”

“No. If you have to think about it, then you aren’t ‘all in,’” you call back to the morning after you two met. “Because if you were, you wouldn’t have to think about it.”

Trent doesn’t say another word, pushing past you and leaving you there.

You press your back against the door, letting out a silent sob so that Ben can’t hear you. This was exactly what you were afraid of, wiping the tears from your face and peeling yourself off the door. You walk down the hall, hoping that Ben wouldn’t notice the redness that was probably in your eyes from crying, opening his door.

“Where’s Trent?” Ben asked, handing you a toy of his when you sit down on his floor with him.

You swallow hard, not sure what to really tell him. “He had to go, Benny,” you say, running your hand on his hair, pulling him close to kiss the top of his head.

“When’s he coming back, Mommy?”

You put on a fake smile for him, not wanting to let him know when you really thought Trent would be back. “I don’t know, sweetie. Not this week.”

I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing

You hadn’t checked anyone’s story on Instagram since last night, sitting on the metal chairs in the middle of the day, surrounded by parents much older than you, figuring now was probably the only time you hate the chance.

You tap through them, some stories from friends from college, random celebrities that you followed. You finally get to Jack’s story from last night. They were in Puerto Rico, in some dark restaurant. Zach and Jeremy were dancing, Jack behind the camera. In the corner, you could see Trent sitting at a table, looking miserable. He sees Jack with his camera, shakes his head and storms off. You replay the story, Jack’s shaking making you think that he was saying something and turning the sound on low, holding the phone to your ear. You could hear the music more than anything else, sounds of Zach, Jeremy, and Jack’s laughter breaking through after one of them said something inaudible. Trent must have gotten up at that point, because you hear Jack yell, “Oh, Trent! Come on, man! Have some fun!”

You go to Trent’s profile, hoping that he had posted anything. The last photo he has posted was of the two of you, him strategically cropping out Ben because you had asked him to. It was from Ben’s birthday, outside the restaurant. He had captioned it, ‘Spent the day with my two favorite people, Bear not shown.’

Ben’s preschool teacher gets up on the stage, the high-pitched whispers of the four- and five-year-olds starting by the back door as Ms. Barry introduces the class, all of them walking up in a line to the stage. They start waving to their parents, Ben waving to you as everyone, including you, has their phone out waving back and recording the moment. The children start singing ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,’ their pixie-like voices filling the auditorium, all slightly out of key and slightly out of sync with each other. Towards the end of the song, you notice Ben starting to jump up and down, anxious over something he saw towards the back of the auditorium, as did some of the other children. You figured it was nothing, none of the other parents turning around to look at what it was either.

They go onto their next song, one you weren’t paying attention to, nor did you recognize it. Ben was no less antsy than he was before, waving again with the biggest smile on his face. It had to be someone.

You turn around, Trent leaning against the back wall, one hand in his pocket while the other was waving to Ben. All of his attention was on Ben. You turn back in your seat, shocked that he was there. He was supposed to be in Puerto Rico.

You put your bag on the seat, the mom next to you promising to watch it. You sneak back to Trent, not sure what to say to him. You turn to Ben, giving him the thumbs up and a single finger to tell him that you were going to be back in a second, feeling bad that you were leaving your so. Ben jumps up and down, nodding and continuing to sing.

You grab Trent, pulling him out of the room and into the small hallway. “What are you doing here? You were in Puerto Rico last night; I saw you on Jack’s story.”

He looks down at his feet, biting his bottom lip. “I couldn’t be there knowing you and Ben were here.”

“That’s not what you said when you wanted to go.”

He nods, looking up at you for a second before his eyes flick back down to his feet. “I told you I was dumb.”

“So why are you here then?”

“I told you when we first met that I was all in. I can’t be all in if I’m not here.”

“So?”

He takes a step closer to you, hesitating for a moment. “So. I don’t want to miss anything with you, or with Ben.” You don’t know what came over you, kissing him outside your son’s concert the way you did. You can hear the parents start to cheer, signaling that the concert was finished. Trent pulls away, your foreheads pressed against each other. He smiles before stealing a kiss again, pulling you back inside.

Ben comes running up to you, giggling with his arms open. “Trent!”

“Benny Bear!” he responds, crouching down with his arms open, hugging Ben when he came in contact. He picks him up, kissing him on the cheek, your hand on Trent’s back.

“You came! You’re back!” Ben squeals, burying his face in Trent’s shoulder.

“Back and here to stay,” he says to you, giving you a quick kiss before putting Ben down, getting your bag, and going home.