#she's angry. she's so angry. because she's seeing the same bullshit she dealt with in middle school being repeated again

[mars-ipan]

this is gonna sound incredibly virtue signal-y i fear but i have been feeling. so fiercely protective of all the transfems i've ever met lately

[alchemistc]

There's been something about the woobification of Buck that's been sitting on the tip of my tongue for weeks now, and I think I've finally figured it out.

This is, of course, mostly in reference to the moral outrage about a decade-ish (give or take) age gap between two adult men and the infantalization of one said grown man, so all the puritanism isn't really coming from a place of good faith anyway, but here's the thing that's been bugging me that I couldn't quite put a finger on until now.

Buck has people he goes to for certain things. He has, what are in his mind, experts in the field for most of the things he can't think through on his own, that he goes to for a sounding board.

He went to Hen to talk through the sperm donor dilemma for a few reasons that made sense to him. 1) She's a mom. She has very much had to deal with the reality of 'giving up' children she considered her own. Buck is aware that he would be giving up something that could mean something to him, and he wants to talk to someone who has some insight into that. 2) She's dealt with IVF. She knows the risks, she knows the trials and tribulations, she knows about this thing that he is thinking about agreeing to be a part of so she's going to have a fuller grasp on the enormity of everything this process entails.

And they drink about it. Hen gives him what she can and cautions him where she thinks she should and they continue to talk about it and regardless of what SHE thinks, he makes his mind up in part because he got to talk to his Expert.

Bobby is often his go to when he feels like he's losing his grip on things. He's seen Bobby staring down the bottom of the bottle. He's seen the work he's done to pull himself back into the world, and he's seen the way he fights for his family, his people. Buck leans on him in times of questioning himself because he knows Bobby has pulled himself off the ledge with bleeding hands and a bleeding heart.

He reaches out to Maddie about interpersonal shit constantly. We see it all the way back in S2 when he's starting to question what the hell he's still doing in Abby's apartment, and that never really changes. She's the one with advice for him when he's angry with his parents, upset with the firefam, worried about his friends, or just generally concerned with the way he's perceived by people or how he perceives the world. He goes to her when he's embarrassed, ashamed, because he knows she won't judge him for it. She'll call him out, for sure, but she's not going to look at him differently when she knows he's done something he considers bad behavior.

When he goes to her during the Tommy arc, he's there for one reason he'll admit, and another she has to ferret out. 1) He lied to his best friend and he doesn't know why. 2) Oh yeah he went on a date with a dude that's not strange WHY IS THAT STRANGE I'VE ALWAYS BEEN AN ALLY PLEASE DON'T PULL BACK THE CURTAIN - and Maddie is there with two things: 1) It's not weird but it IS new and something you clearly haven't worked through all the way which is why 2) you'll tell Eddie when you're ready

And Eddie is sort of his go-to to bounce ideas off of. Eddie is his Buck expert. Eddie is the guy who can sort through all the bullshit and who sees Buck for exactly who he is, every time, regardless of what Buck himself is thinking. Eddie is his best friend, and he knows the good the bad and the ugly better than anyone else. He is also, quite frankly, the one Buck seeks out to help him contextualize all of his romantic feelings for people. Eddie's the guy he talks to when he's interested in someone, when he's falling for someone, he's the guy through which Buck filters his love interests into the firefam. I do the same shit with my best friend. It's instinct to want the person you consider the expert on you to meet the person you are interested in, it's instinct to want them to like each other, to get along. Buck knows Eddie loves him (in whatever way you see that love, Buck knows Eddie loves him) and he wants this person who loves him to be at least an active listener as he talks himself through the minefield of relationships. I do also think that up until the events of season seven, Buck considers Eddie sort of an expert on that traditional love-marriage-kids-white-picket-fence relationship Buck thinks he's striving for - in a very naive way, because obviously the wasn't what Eddie and Shannon had and Buck knows that, but he's probably fed some of Eddie's rose colored reminiscences back into that notion.

When he comes out to Eddie he's got two worries. 1) I lied to you and I figured out why but I'm still a little worried you think it's weird and 2) I screwed it up with someone I really like and I don't know where to go from here.

And Eddie (Buck expert) reassures him that just because it's new and unexpected doesn't make it strange, that it doesn't change anything in their friendship. And then he gets right to the heart of it - if you like him you should reach out and tell him that. He doesn't know you like we do but if you give him the chance to, he'll love you as much as we do. If he doesn't give it the same shot you want to he's the idiot.

With all that context in mind, Buck isn't seeking out Tommy's attention because he wants an authority figure, or someone to take care of him, someone to guide him through sex or love or relationship dynamics or any of the other random shit I've seen ppl infantalizing Buck about.

What he's looking for, and what he ultimately tells Tommy he'd like to pursue, is a partnership. Someone to walk (or more likely for Buck, speedrun) through experiences together. The Athena to his Bobby, the Chim to his Maddie, the Karen to his Hen.

So every time I see someone infantalizing Buck for seeking out a relationship with an older man for X or Y reason, I'm just like - no. He has Bobby, Hen, Maddie, Eddie, Chim etc for that. He doesn't want or need Tommy for that. He is a grown ass man who has built these strong relationships with his peers and his mentors and he is so fucking aware of that because he reaches for their help any time he feels the urge for a helping hand.

So yeah, Tommy's older. Yes, Tommy has more experience with his sexuality than Buck. And that - that's really it. Buck's been in the same career for more than half a decade. He's lived on his own since he was no older than 19/20. He's had serious relationships, he has a rich and fulfilling life. There is no power imbalance in the relationship between Buck and Tommy.

And while the age gap may be a bit of a draw for Buck, it's not WHY he's attracted to Tommy. We know because he's told Maddie. He's cool. He's interesting. He's confident. He has a cleft.

Buck isn't going into this waiting for someone older and more experienced to take the fucking reins. He felt like he clicked with Tommy, like there was an immediate connection, and yes, Tommy had to kiss him about it for Buck to actually figure out what it was he was experiencing, but from that point on it was all on Buck (and the people he leans on for advice) to help him sort through.

Tommy didn't do shit other than pump the brakes and try to give Buck the space he thought he needed to decide what he was ready for. Buck (again, with the help of his experts - Maddie for the emotional piece of it, Eddie for the Buck of it all) did the work on his own. Tommy didn't swoop in and overbearingly hold his hand through a sexual awakening. He kissed him, asked him out, realized he wasn't ready, stepped back and then checked in multiple times when Buck came back at it going 120 miles an hour.

And then he did everything he could to prove to Buck he wanted the same thing - a partner, someone to talk to, and lean on, and flirt with and rely on to show up whenever they could feasibly manage it (and sometimes when it's a little unfeasible too).

The narrative even acknowledges that Buck had no reason to go to Bobby in this scenario, when he often would, and lays out exactly why.

Within the canon of this particular arc, we're meant to see this as Buck realizing he has the experience necessary to think these things through on his own. This is Buck finally taking control of something that's always felt like it fell into his lap a bit. This is Buck doing more than treading water until his legs give out.

And minimizing that growth bc you personally don't like the LI he's pursuing is gross at best. At worst it's something much more insidious.

[lapinneok]

Hello dishonor the game people! Here's a little concept of mine.

tldr: billie has a mimir in the void and delilah paints her dreams

After the events of KoD, instead of leaving Dunwall Billie goes to meet Delilah for the last time in order to mess some of her plans up to help Daud win some time. Daud didn't ask for it, he doesn't need it, Billie does this out of being purely angry with Delilah (and herself for falling for Delilah’s schemes). It goes bad. Horribly bad.

Rather than killing Billie, Delilah traps her in the void painting, where Billie resides sleeping timelessly. Delilah also gets trapped in there by Daud at the and of the Brigmore witches dlc. Daud doesn't know Billie's in the void with Delilah. Events of dh go unchanged.

under the cut are some sketches & a bit more info <3

Events of dh2 still happen, Delilah gets out of void to overtake the throne, Emily has to flee the tower yada yada yada. The people who are helping her get to Karnaca are Daud and Thomas. 

Daud decides to help Emily because 1) he has already dealt with Delilah once and it bothers him that she's onto her rule-the-world bullshit again 2) their joint search with Thomas ended up in Dunwall in the right time to help an empress so why not okay 3) Emily eventually guilt trips him to helping her anyway.

sooo they set out on a journey

Being it the void with Billie asleep, Delilah projects her artwork onto Billie's dreams. Delilah is bored and angry and will make it everyone else's problem.

Billie's dreams do not reflect her understanding of reality, but Delilah's. People in them are the ideas of whom they actually are, so they act grotesquely unnaturally, some of them share brief character traits with their real versions. 

Some of the whalers, whom Delilah has never seen without a mask, simply don't have a face. The only person she conveys as accurately as she can is Daud (since she had at least seen him in person).

She may make Billie leave peacefully with what she thinks is Deidre, only for the world to crumble around her when she starts asking questions. (this is a reference to THIS FIC please go check it out i think about way more then i should. if it didn't exist this whole thing probably would not too).

To be awoken by Thomas and assume this nightmare has finally ended and then notice a detail that will make everything fall apart, again and again. 

Delilah is always an empress in those dreams. She simply doesn't allow herself to be of less. This helps Billie to identify whether she's sleeping or not when she eventually figures it out. 

She's finally awoken by Daud after 15 years, the only thing she is able to do is to wonder why he grew old, seeing him as being the same for all that time.

that's all for now! thank you for reading

SHITPOSTS START HERE

SHITPOSTS END HERE

thank you for your attention!! much love <3

[accidentaloracle]

The Gang

{Order from top to bottom}

✶Shin

My original and has gone through a couple of fantasia changes in her time. I am still trying to work on her details during each expansion but I mostly associate her with the shared canon I have with friends. Which involve falling out of an airship, void bullshit and romantic notions with a tall, blue eyed Ishgardian.

Shin's main class is WHM 🌳Although she lacks a good bedside manner, she always makes up for it with her expertise in healing magics and dedication in helping those in need. My snark queen ♥

✶Badabing Badaboom

[THIS GUY! Listen.. this lad was made purely just for goofs and seeing what playing as a lala was like. Never did I think I would put so much time and energy into him!]

Badabing, a member of the Nanarito family, grew up privileged in Ul'dah. This upbringing in a wealthy environment contributed significantly to fostering a strong sense of entitlement in his youth. He indulged in taking whatever he desired and acted without restraint. Those who dared to oppose him found themselves swiftly and decisively dealt with. Following his father's death under mysterious circumstances, which were connected to his uncle Lolorito, his perception of himself and his way of life began to change.

Following the calamity, Badabing founded NBM, an organisation that funds various projects and covertly assists those in need. Badabing is always battling to keep the organisation one step ahead of his uncle and to preserve his gruff persona so that he does not get too caught up in Ul'dah's shady business dealings. The main operation of NBM is their deli, which provides a variety of lunch and snack options, located in the Goblet residential zone. Originally planned for the NBM hideaway, Badabing's culinary adventures grew as he travelled to other places, ultimately inspiring him to pursue his love of cooking. Badabing often tries out different lunch ideas or makes easy meals for travellers on the road with his limited spare time. Badabing appears cold and distant, but he is incredibly devoted to his friends and close family members. "Playing the game of Ul'dah is an exhausting one"

✶Barm Brack

My sweet, good Elezen gal

Barm was born in Ishgard, but was soon taken in by her aunt Eliviane in Gridania after the death of her mother. Growing up, she found it hard to make friends. Eliviane was notorious for speaking her mind, causing discourse in the city, and challenging the Gridanian policies. Because of this, most of the parents warned their children away from their family. For the majority of her childhood, Barm spent her time wandering through Central Shroud, climbing trees, people watching, and convincing herself she could talk to animals.

Barm often watched hunters and The God's Quivers go about their daily tasks from high atop the trees. One day, hanging around the bannock, she spotted a bow and arrow lying beside a tent. Although she was nervous about being caught, Barm convinced herself she could borrow the weapon and put it right back. Surely, no one could be angry?

With some luck, she had successfully grabbed the bow, made off to one of the few secluded spots she preferred in bentbrach meadows, and began attempting to recreate the perfect archer posture. Unbeknownst to her, an Anole was hurtling towards her. It snapped a twig in the bush, the sharp sound causing her to leap and quickly turn around. She inadvertently released the bow, sending the arrow straight into the Anole's head.

Before Barm could even react, two figures appeared in the same direction as the creature. Two members of The God's Quivers, both smiling in astonishment at the young Elezen's aim. Barm was feeling too guilty about stealing the bow to even understand why they had ushered her back to the city. She had assumed it was to be punished for her crime. It was not until she had glanced up at the familiar sign that she recognised they had taken her to the archer's guild.

From that moment on, Barm was recruited into the guild and told only one person about what really happened that day, her first friend.

(I do have more to add to each character, but I hope it gives enough of a sample of what they are like ^^' )

[silvermoose]

Fanfic I wrote for The Coffin of Andy and Leyley. Originally posted on Reddit, then Ao3.

---

Being able to be openly affectionate with Ashley was one advantage to quarantine, Andrew had to admit. Even when their parents lived with them, their mom was always giving them disgusted looks, or making snide comments to them. Now he didn’t have to watch over himself, trying to be cautious about every interaction they had. He could interact with his sister without feeling judged about it. Everything felt natural, and he could be himself.

This changed after they started having sex.

He became much more self conscious, in a way that he never was before. Even buying condoms had become an ordeal. In his past life, he would just pick some up when he got cigarettes. He didn’t care who saw him, because he didn’t care if anyone knew that he was getting laid. It was different now.

He tried not to go to the same place twice, and never went with Ashley, lest someone realize how similar they look and make the connection. Each trip had him on the brink of an anxiety attack. They had discussed other options, but getting a prescription for the birth control pill would start a paper trail, and the consequences of pulling out were too dire. So instead Andrew dealt with the fear and shame of being found out every time he went to the pharmacy. He also stocked up on pregnancy tests out of paranoia; It got to the point where Ashley was used to just taking one every few days as a matter of routine.

“You know how that’s not how it works, right?” she said the third time, as she handed him the test with one blue line. “It doesn’t show you the moment you get pregnant, it only shows after a few weeks.”

“It’s either this or your demon trinket, and I’m not sacrificing anyone else if I can avoid it,” he said. He checked the box to confirm that yes, a single line meant ‘not pregnant’.

While She didn't mind at first, it got tiresome after a while. So she stole a pen from the front desk while Andrew was out. When it was time to take another test, she drew an extra line on it.

“Hey An-dy,” Ashley sang to him, holding out a test with two blue lines on it.

Andrew puked. Violently.

“What the fuck, Andy?” Ashley screamed.

“You're pregnant?? How did this happen? We were so careful! Ashley. I don't think we can do this.”

“Well, then it's a good thing I'm not actually pregnant, Asshole. It was a joke. I drew on the extra line.”

It took a minute for Andrew to register what she had said.

“What? What the fuck, Ashley, why would you do that to me??”

“I didn't think it would make you puke! Did you ever puke after having sex with one of your floozies??”

“It's not the sex, Ashley,  it's the thought of having a baby!”

“You think I'd be a bad mother.”

“No, I think it's a bad idea to have a child when both parents are unemployed, on the run, and oh yeah, they’re siblings!!!”

“It's not like anyone knows”

“Really, Ashley? You think that no one ever looks at us and sees how similar we are? Which features we share? The same mannerisms we have? That’s bullshit.”

“Is that why you never show affection to me in public? That you won’t kiss me or hold my hand? You’re afraid some stranger will judge you?”

“If they notice us enough to judge us, they notice us enough to report us, Ashley.”

“We’ve been out in public a lot without anyone saying anything!”

“Not while we were fucking!  Going out in public is hell. All I think about is people seeing through me, realizing I'm the freak that fucks my sister. And when I'm alone with you, I feel better. I feel happy. I feel like I’m home. I reinforce that they’re right .”

“Oh, so I make you a freak?” She yelled, more angry than hurt.

“Ashley. Leyley .” he said gently. He embraced her and kissed her hair. “You don’t make me a freak. You make me happy. I can’t live without you. But I don’t know how much longer we can go on like this. It seems inevitable that we’re either going to get caught and arrested, or killed, or something else, but we’re going to be separated, and I don’t know what I will do with myself if that happens. I don’t want to lose you.”

“And I don’t want you to leave me.”

He closed his eyes and held her tighter.

“What do we do, Leyley? To be free?”

“Let's ask the trinket,” Ashley suggested. “We still have one vision on this thing.”

It seemed like such a big ask. Up until this point, the trinket had primarily worked when it wanted to. But it was right about the hitman, it had been right about them sleeping together, so he agreed to give it a shot.They slept together that night with his arms wrapped around her, holding the trinket between their hands.

Robbing the pharmacy was easier than it had any right to be, but that was the advantage of having demons on your side. The place was remote and had only one pharmacist, so when they went in Andrew simply locked the door behind him while Ashley held the gun to the pharmacist.

“Don't be stupid about this, and you can live,” she said. The pharmacist nodded. “We want sectional. All of it.”

“Sectional? Is that what it’s called, Ashley?”

“ Leyley . And yeah, something like that.”

“Something like that? Seconal, Ley. It’s Seconal.” He shot Leyley a look, but she only smiled and blew him a kiss in return.

The pharmacist brought them their entire stock of pills, which wasn’t a lot, but would be enough. The Graves then bound and gagged the pharmacist and left him behind the counter, a rare act of mercy for them.

In the car, Ashley popped open one of the beers they had bought earlier and handed it to Andrew.

“Not while I'm driving!” He said, and tried to wave it away.

“What do you care? The vision showed we’d arrive safely.”

“I need to be able to chisel properly.”

“Why? Does it matter how nice it looks?”

“You know what? Fuck it, you're right.” Andrew took the can from her and took a swig.

They had a good buzz going by the time they arrived at their destination. Ashley was initially against the idea, but Andrew convinced her that if it was in the vision, they should do it that way. Plus, since their parents' bodies were missing, there was no actual grave. No Coffin. Just a tombstone with the word GRAVES on it, with their parents names and dates of birth below it.

Andrew chipped away at their names and dates of birth as best he could until it only had “GRAVES” on it. It looked alright, considering how much alcohol he had. Ashley laid out a blanket over the area in front of the tombstone, and they sat down on it.

“Okay,” Andrew said, as he poured the pills into two piles. “I guess it doesn’t matter how much we take? So we’ll each take half. Then lie down and stay on your back.”

“On my back so we can go out with a bang?” Leyley teased. 

“I'm serious, Leyley. If you puke everything up, it won't work.”

“Being on my back will stop me from puking?” she asked. She took the pills and followed it with some more beer.

“Yes,” Andrew lied. The reality was that if either of them threw up while on their back, they would choke on it; being on their sides meant they might survive the ordeal. 

“Leyley?”

“Mm?”

“In your vision, what was death like?”

“Peaceful,” Leyley said. “It was just us, here, then a feeling of warmth and heaviness. I woke up from the vision with a sense of peace.”

“I hope that means hell is nice,” Andrew said. “Look up at the stars with me.”

“Very romantic.”

“It is, actually. Author Mary Shelley supposedly lost her virginity on her moms grave. Romeo and Juliet died in her family’s crypt.”

“You always knew how to bring the romance,” Leyley said, her voice somewhat unsteady. Romantic, not romance, Andrew almost corrected, but now wasn't the time. He was starting to feel dizzy and didn't want those to be his last words to her. 

“I love you, Leyley.”

Leyley didn’t respond, and Andrew didn’t want to risk moving his head to look at her. Instead, he reached his hand out to hold hers. He felt his muscles grow weaker and weaker, and he couldn't keep his eyes open. As his breathing started to slow, he felt himself overcome with a sense of peace and calm.

[malka-lisitsa]

'I'm not falling for it, yanno? Your act.' His words were quiet, cigarette lifted to his lips. He had a tendency to do that; drop in, unexpected. 'I see right through you; you're drowning everyday. It takes one, to know one.' He paused, head dropping back. 'That's we fight and fuck, cause we're running from something. Yet no matter how much alcohol and sex, it's never enough is it? Still the waves are rising. The tide won't turn.' A drag and he let out a light laugh. 'It's fucking bullshit. All of it and you know what? You can't run forever. You can't run from yourself.'

He has a habit of being really fucking annoying is what he has a habit of.

The fucking audacity of him spawning in like some NPC triggered by an event. And to talk to her, like he knows anything about her, like he can understand anything shes been through, like they're the same. Fuck him.

The anger rises through her core and settles in her chest, making her feel like she could explode at any moment. Every single word that follows the first pushes and pushes her. Rage building like a volcano getting ready to erupt. Will it be explosive? Or will she calmly tear him apart while she does her nails? Which ones worse? Her cold anger? Or her fiery rage?

Katherine's dangerous either way when shes angry, when she's hurt. She is both right now, angry AND hurt- Why? Because he's right. Because she's done everything she has for the past 500 years either running from something, or chasing something, or BOTH.

She doesn't remember who she was, she doesn't know who she IS.

All she knows is that she's ALONE and she HATES IT.

Finally her control breaks and she speaks, unable to help the impulse to lash out any longer. He hasn't done anything wrong, he hasn't harmed her, but he's seen her- and in a lot of ways that's the worst thing you can do to Katherine Pierce.

"I'm not putting on an act, and if I was, it sure as shit wouldn't be for your entertainment, so quite frankly? You don't have to buy it. I don't care."

"You don't know the first thing about how I feel, or what goes on in my head. You can act like you do all day, and you can even pull that astrology bullshit and vaguely describe anyone whos ever dealt with trauma ever and it will sure sound like you know what you're talking about."

"But you don't fucking know me. And you never fucking will. I'm not interested in being your trauma buddy, I'm not interested in patching up each others wounds, I'm not interested in drowning my sorrows with you, or being friends, or whatever else you hope these little heart to hearts turn into. I don't care."

"I'm not your wife. So stop pretending you fucking care about me, because we both know its only out of some fucked up guilt you're projecting on to me."

[despair-to-future-arcs]

Yeah there was no way Nagi was holding well from their cruel treatment, it definitely hurt her.

*after crying, she still had her head on Hajime's shoulder* ...At the time, I think what made it easier for my time at Hope's Peak was just spending time with other students in other classes; it just made things... tolerable and I wouldn't have to feel so isolated.

But when it comes to my own class, it often feels like that I can't tell what's up with them and felt I was walking on eggshells; either they act like I kill Hatomi, treated me with cold indifference, avoided me cause I'm that reminder she's dead, exclude or treat me as if I'm special because my family are Ultimates when they discover which I never care for much or just... I don't even know.

Yeah, I can get why you would feel that way, you haven't exactly spoken about any of this at all and while sure; I know they aren't like that but you met them at their worse time or when Junko started to influence them while for me, I got to spend time with them before they enroll so probably why it's hard to let go of any bias for me.

Indeed, I just...I don't even know what to say at all, I rather not make them feel worse about themselves but I can't deny, it's difficult to say anything without trying to remain unbais here or get angry at them.

So I've just accepted that none of them would view me as anything more then just a caretaker that wants what's best for them, that's all it is for me and it's the same with my worries about me Divine Luck, I feel that I'm worry that I might become corrupted with greed.

Right, I suppose that is what you remember and it's not like I can change your views of them since you for, you dealt with them for nearly 2 to 3 years so it's understandable.

But still, you should be allow to say something. You shouldn't have bottle it up, you were hurt and were upset. Sure, the teacher was the sole reason for it but your allow to be upset with them.

You think so...?

Yeah, if your upset and were hurt then yeah, you have a right to get mad; if someone is treating you horribly you should say something instead of trying to bottle it up.

I mean, given how you seen me; I probably wouldn't put up with their bullshit either but you have a lot more patience then I do which says a lot and I question how you don't get mad at all.

Given how these guys are, I feel they do need to get call out a few times. Hell, I was able to listen to you and understand things thanks to you explaining it - you probably are much kinder then you make yourself out to be and I think you do give yourself very little credit.

...What?

O-Oh uh, sorry was that too much.

O-Oh uh, no-nothing just... surprise you say that, it's rather... odd to me...

I see, well okay then... (What was that reaction, did I say something weird?)

[leschanceux]

pip's defense of mum's absence is hollow to his own ears; they're words meant for henry, they've always been words meant for henry, because pip is too old and too cynical to believe it himself ( apparently henry is too these days --- christ, this is like realising that henry is too old for santa, the tooth fairy and the easter bunny all over again, but far more devastating ).

that's a bullshit reason, pip. yeah, it is, and pip knows it, but he's perpetuated it for so long. he doesn't answer, doesn't dare to even take a breath as henry white-knuckles his teacup like he might snap it in half with the weight of his words.

if only dad could see them now.

he can't help the way he flinches as henry lays out the charges against them all, and finds them guilty guilty guilty of neglect and general shittiness while henry was still far too young to deal with everything he'd ended up dealing with alone. you never came to visit except to tell me off. it hurts, because he knows it's true. he wishes it wasn't true, knows the reason it is true, but there's nothing he can do about it now.

he offers no defence for himself - he's never told henry or beatrice about the way gran had twisted the knife in his heart until he'd stopped fighting, had started to take what she'd dealt out with a nod and a quiet agreement, a puppet she could control with just a twitch of his strings. he's never told them that he'd let her drive a wedge between the three of them so they'd be easier to control, three broken kids who were left lonely and bereft of parental love, that he'd had to let her, because she was threatening their futures behind closed doors.

he's never told them that the one time he'd lost his absolute shit with her, the day before a-level season had started and the papers were already writing about henry, the day she'd sat him down and laid out their packed-out schedules for the next three months and he'd told her it's too much for them, just leave them alone, they're just children. she'd just turned cold eyes on him and told him that if he was struggling so much, perhaps he should reconsider his ability to lead the country. that if beatrice was struggling that much, she could always be found alternative lodgings. that if henry was struggling to do as he was told, perhaps-

this isn't about gran, though --- except it is, kind of, because if mum had been present and pulled her head out of her arse and remembered that they existed occasionally, that they were feeling the same pain she was but doubled, they might not have been so emotionally beaten down.

he and bea had been adults when everything had happened; independent, free(ish) to deal with their grief in their own ways. they hadn't been constrained by a strict daily routine decided by someone else, aside from gran's list of appearances. they hadn't been uprooted and sent away, left at school and then alone at kensington because everybody was too busy to look after them.

they had lives and friends and privacy, and henry hadn't had any of them.

philip still hasn't said a word, curled over his own teacup as guilt and sadness and so many other emotions wash over him in waves. he can't apologise - it's not enough. he can't apologise because it won't change the past, won't bring dad back, won't change the fundamentals of who gran is and how mum had shut down.

"i told her it was too little too late after that meeting," he says finally, voice small like he's confessing to something truly heinous. "she barely even acknowledged me, hen. the only thing she said to me was that she didn't appreciate my tone, and then after..." he scrubs his palms over his face, inhales deeply. "she tried to rip a strip off me, told me she was disappointed in the way i'd treated you and bea, that she'd expected more from me, and if isn't that just the story of my entire fucking life?" his laugh is bitter, angry, forced through his teeth. "anyway, i told her i didn't need a mother. i'm too old for her to come barging back in and start dictating what she thinks i should and shouldn't be doing, and i told her all that."

and she'd looked at him with betrayal in her eyes, tried to tell him that dad would be disappointed and he'd walked away in anger.

"i'm... i'm sorry for my part in everything, henry. i am, genuinely. i should've been there, should've asked you to move to anmer so you weren't alone. i should've done so much more to make sure you were alright."

of course he hears his brother's words . he recognises them intimately . the explanation and defense of mum's actions in the years since dad had died . . . so many years that he almost remembers more years with her refusing to see him than he remembers the years of her being around . and that was unfair .

he recognises it because he has said that to himself over and over for so many years . his hands tighten on his cup again , knuckles and fingertips turning white against the china . " that's a bullshit reason , pip .  "

if they're talking , well , he might have well say it .

" and i know it is , because i said the same about you when you never came to visit except to tell me off . i said the same about bea when she cared more about partying than the fact i was living in kensington by myself . they've lost dad too , they're just sad in their own way . her refusing to seek help for her mental health because she was sad does not excuse how she treated us . "     

how she treated me . he wanted to shout . how he was just a kid, kicked out of and banished from the only home he had ever known days after losing the most important person in his life .

" bea didn't get to use it as an excuse when her addiction problems were all over the front pages , and i didn't get to use it when i got into that fight at eton . so she doesn't get to use it either . "

and it is quite possible that henry is madder than he thought.

it's quite possible that he hasn't been able to let go of how it had felt to lose his entire family in one swoop . because that was what he had felt like . philip and bea had lives already , exciting lives full of people henry didn't know , doing things henry didnt know about . but his life had still been eton and boarding houses and seeing his parents on the weekends . he still had school timetables and saturday and wednesday sports afternoons. he still had homework and mock exams and real exams and school uniforms and half terms .

his temper cooled as fast as it had spiked and something sad and small replaced it . somehow he's that seventeen year old again who had just lost his dad and din't know what to do . but maybe it's more than that , maybe this is him standing up for that seventeen year old .

" she knew i was gay, dad told me they knew . and she knew that gran knew and she knew what she was like and she sent me to live with her anyway . showing up nearly ten years later ,   a week after it hit the papers ,   is quite frankly a little too late .  alex got here faster from the white house,  for christ's sake .  "

[hollyhomburg]

Loved this chapter, tho mc is so much more patient than I’ll ever be. Id be quite tired of dealing w the packs anger towards me over something that I couldn’t control 😭 like at some point I’d be telling Jin and Hobi to get over themselves. Like did Hobi miss the memo that yoongi claimed her bc she would have died if he didn’t? That she begged him not to? And he says that SHE’S the one complicating things?

I love Hobi and Mc but my patience is so thin w him rn. “I should hate u” no u shouldnt and if u do, go to hell. Love him tho ❤️

(Besides I’d be spilling dirt on all of them like did u know Jimin kills people for a living. Jin is an FBI agent. Y’all were complicated and murky long before I even met yoongi u emotional asshole).

I do enjoy Hobi and Mc getting closer tho. I hope they can talk fr. I’m glad Jin was able to sort out whatever he was feeling. And Jimin and Tae took the damn cake w how sweet they were my goodness. All I can think of is Jimin anxiously smoking a cigarette while shopping for makeup for his gf while other customers and workers are looking at him like 👀

okay BUT- i was super intentional about the language i used in this chapter, i really thought that people wouldn't like...still be upset with jin?

i'm not saying you're wrong for it- and this is on par with bily because we've seen everyone in the pack make questionable calls thusfar- thats part of the fun in the story, but if i may, i'm gonna bring up a few spesific lines of the last chapter in rebuttal to this ask, just because it left me with a weird taste in my mouth.

i really hoped that people wouldn't still be angry at jin and hobi...but i guess it's out of my hands right now unless i want to edit.

but remember, we see these charecters conflicted about the very things that youre unsure about, we see hobi's internal narration go. "You claimed Yoongi’s soul and future for yourself before you even met them, even if you had too- Hoseok has a right to be angry). But he’s not. He lies his cheek next to yours on the folded blankets, close enough that he can feel the warmth of your skin, and thinks- are you the only one who I can’t offer comfort to? Isn’t that a wretched thing, that we’re in the same pack but we can’t be so close?

we see hobi here being extremely conflicted, he's not exactly musing on his issues but he's letting them go! i get that the m/c still had to like- deal with them. But i think its very clear how tired she is of it. hobi gets and and he's tired too. it's more then dealing with the bullshit of that together as a pair- the first time they've really done something together for the benefit of their relationship thus far. and we see him immediatly offer her comfort right after- trying to limit the damage of his emotions and actions on her.

and then jin! jin's is also more easy to point out we see the m/c ask "Are you still upset at me and Yoongi for the mark thing?” i was very intentional to use the word upset not angry. jin confirms that he's still upset eventually- but he's mostly upset that they had to make those choices, that the situation forced them to do something that could have easily killed them both, because he wants them both alive not because he doesn't care that the m/c almost died.

but they'res also jealousy and insecurity there- because yoongi would have rather them both almost die then reach out for jin's help. both of those feelings are dealt with through sex in part because they need to reaffirm their desire for intimacy with each other and the trust. jin knows he could push the m/c too far, and she trust him not too in the mini scene (thats not really a scene)

i think people in general with bily forget the trauma that the m/c and yoongi put the pack through. remember- yoongi left without telling them one word, came back with another person and then she proceeded to not speak to them for about a month. i don't think any party is wrong in their feelings, and i do think that the mc is frustrated with them too. she just handles her emotions diffrently, she's more prone to self doubt then anger in part because of her abuse.

when others are angry or unrightfully emotional about others- tae for instance- she has no problem speaking up. but it's different when it comes to her because shes still handling the after effects of the abuse she went through. i'd even gander that the pack is well aware of this and is taking steps to make sure she does speak up for herself, remember hobi says "would you stop with the whole 'i hate you thing'"

and emotions don't just go away once you feel them, sometimes they linger, but both jin and hobi try to make sure that the m/c doesn't feel quite so bad about it, they at least try to make sure the emotions don't hurt her.

hobi offers her comfort before anyone else will- "You’re doing a good job, with Tae. In case no one’s told you yet.”“Oh,” you say, words muffled by the blanket, burying your face in it. “Thanks.” He can feel the warmth of your cheek, and after a second you move just a little closer, just enough for your skin to brush a little, atoms to atoms and more a feeling of warmth than skin. 

jin's is here- oh so he doesn’t hate you, you didn’t realize how worried you were of that, that Jin had someone decide he didn’t want you anymore. The hardness poking at your stomach dictates the opposite of that too. Jin’s hand cups the back of your neck possessively, tilting your mouth so that he can kiss you the way that he likes. He gets you gasping when his teeth dig in a little, just a little harder. But Jin knows you like a bit of force behind it, just to make your mind quiet. (jin knows he's stressed the fuck out of the m/c, and now he's gonna make her better!

Tldr: hobi and jin are trying their hardest!

also please definitely picture minnie smoking and anxiously shopping, a cigarette between one finger and another, or one hanging from his lips while he runs his hands through his hair and looks over high heals trying to figure out the guy to girl size conversion chart and being so so so confused why skirts don't always have pockets or what the fuck a beauty blenders used for.

[talkingtea]

Haven't watched this season and haven't caught up with this blog in a while, so reading the bs that has been going down has me stunned. Seeing the way Iris is being treated is so disheartening, I'm in disbelief about how bad things have gone??? Iris is missing and the team are having game nights?? With her husband and father laughing as if nothing is wrong. The same Barry and Joe that were beyond depressed all of season 3 because of her impending death??? The way this time-sickness plot has been dealt with is atrocious, this is why I never wanted it in the first place. Have they even explained how she has time sickness? Why are other characters being changed to take her place? It's disgusting.

I'm sorry to say but if Candice is staying on for S9 (which i'm like 87% sure she isn't) I'll be disappointed and angry at her. Cut yourself from this show already. Jesse leaving, BW cancelled so she has a less support system in place, ratings plummeting etc. Leaving at this point won't make a difference bc that gremlin eric is doing every thing in his power to erase her legacy with her ON the show. She needs stop allowing that 7-head imbecile to continue blatantly disrespecting her without consequences: bc that's what her staying implies, that he can write bullshit for her character and treat her like shit but she'll still stay. Oh i bet that witch dani is living life knowing that her sucking up payed off, I'm so pissed off rn. I can't believe this show and WA were one my comfort show and ship, now I roll my eyes and cringe whenever I see a clip of wth is going on now.

🗣🗣🗣

[pa-panda-heroes]

Hey u seggsy mf 🙄☝🏻 could u do hcs for nanami, sukuna and megumi where they get into a fight w fem!reader and something bad happens to her before they reconcile? Angst that ends w fluff basically haha. Okay ily bye 😽💕

Angst with fluffy ending is apparently something I’m good at so LETS DO IT. Idk how I feel about these omg send help. I hope you enjoy!!

Nanamin, Sukuna, and Megumi fighting with reader and she gets hurt!

Nanamin:

Nanami Kento doesn’t fight over trivial things. Maybe there’s a slight disagreement, and he’ll move on, encouraging you to do the same. It’s not worth the time or energy, he thinks.

There’s not much he would argue about, actually. He’s a reasonable man, he doesn’t mind compromise where reasonable. But he likes to stick to his routine, his ways, his preferred methods.

So whatever you got into a fight over must’ve been big, something that wasn’t at all trivial enough he (and you) could brush it off, something that might have involved a life or death situation for at least one of you (and potentially a civilian or more) whilst on a job.

Nanamin doesn’t worry; he’s adept putting himself in control of a situation where need be. He plans five moves ahead of the move he’s currently making, he comes up with backup plans - he’s a quick thinker, even when his temper might be flaring at you. But he won’t do what he’s told. He has his own ways.

He’s angry, to be sure. You had made one move that totally changed the situation on top of your previous spat and everything was getting worse - even more so when you were hurt after getting separated. It looked pretty bad. You were okay until you fell unconscious, then he was worried.

He dealt with the curse as quickly as he could safely, ensuring it kept a decent distance away from the worry-inducing, unconscious you. The entire time he fought the damn thing off, he thought about your wound, whether it was superficial or deep, how much blood you lost, and how quickly he could get you aid.

Nanami pretty much gets so intent on cleaning this mess up and getting you help, that the next thing he knows, you’re laying in bed, bandaged up, and resting.

Once you’re stabilized, he’ll get you flowers, he thinks. The kind you like best. Maybe he’ll snatch your preferred snacks, if the kind doctor allows you to eat them. He can be stuck in his ways, he knows that. He has his own ways of doing things, but so do you. Next time he’ll have to figure out a way that makes you both happy.

Sukuna:

Getting into an argument with this bastard is way too easy. As intimidating and menacing as Sukuna can be, he can also be bitchy and stubborn as hell. Maybe even prissy, if you think about it.

So whatever argument you get into was very likely not your fault. Sometimes you have to wonder if he does it for entertainment, but then you hear the “human matters are trivial” bullshit that makes your blood boil. No, he’s just an ass sometimes. Well, he is a curse, you suppose.

All that said, he was always quick get over your little lovespats, and it’s not like he ever threatened or attacked you (in any way, much to your surprise) personally - it was just his attitude, usually. It’s not like you constantly argue in some never-ending cycle.

But nevertheless, when you’re arguing, you are pissed. Maybe he earned the title “King of Curses,” fine, whatever, but the entitlement it gave him was still aggravating. Not as aggravating as getting hurt, though.

...although, that wasn’t half as aggravating as getting hurt and... needing his help. You’re going to avoid that like the plague, you tell yourself, trying to sew up your side on your own. That’s what you get for trying to go solo, you supposed. You were up for it, you knew you were! How did this happen?

Thankfully the wound was superficial enough, but it’s hard to do when your hands won’t stop trembling. Doesn’t help that it hurts and you’re light headed, probably from blood loss. Maybe you’re crashing from the adrenaline spike of battle. Who turned the lights off?

Apparently you’d passed out. And apparently, he helped you out, because when you awake you see that shit-eating grin sitting across your bed. You can tell him to shoo all you want, but it won’t work. You’re stuck with him, now, and he’s going to give you so much grief, because he told you not to do the mission solo. And he was right. He’ll never let you live it down.

You pout and refuse to say anything, crossing your arms and looking away. He teases you and gives you a proud “I told you so,” yet you still say nothing. He lets you rot in silence, although his patience fades away and he makes his way to you, grabbing your neck and pulling you toward him as he plants a tiny kiss to your forehead. You’ll never let him live that down, you decide.

Megumi:

Pretty boy here is fairly quick to argue. When he wants something done, he wants it done his way and usually his way only. He can be argumentative. Dare you say that’s the Zen’in blood in him? Anyway.

He does get to a point where he’s just, done arguing and sometimes gives up. Most of the time he’ll suggest you both take a breather and come back to the issue later. But this time he just kept going, to the point you forgot what the initial problem even was.

Megumi didn’t, though. He told you another sorcerer had his eyes on you in a very not professional manner, and you simply scratched your neck and told him you not to worry and that you didn’t think so. No, he knew so, and he was a little hurt you blew him off like that.

Maybe his jealousy and lack of sleep was clouding his judgement, because he told you how he felt, and when you became defensive he just continued arguing. Megumi wanted the point across, he wanted you to look out for yourself more - there are guys out there you ought to be wary of.

But because his brain shuts down when it comes to you, he didn’t get that point across like he wanted. Instead, he came off as aggressively jealous and, quite frankly, a bit of an asshole.

He’s not a possessive boyfriend at all, you know this by now. But seeing another guy after the oblivious you had him seeing red. Honestly, he didn’t trust the other guy even before you met him. He was a half decent sorcerer, but he was just in it for the money.

To say that Megumi felt like banging his head against a wall was an understatement. So when he finds you in the hospital hurt, he feels even more like utter shit. Flowers weren’t enough. No, not chocolates... Animal plushies? No, that’s not it. He wracks his brain but falls short. Use your words, Megumi!

Finally he gives up and decides to talk it out with you. Luckily for him, you realise what he was trying to say for the most part, so he doesn’t have to trip over his own tongue explaining. With a sigh at his fortune (that you picked him of all people), Megumi sits on your hospital head and pulls you close for a hug. Your bedside table is bare and the room is honestly boring. Maybe flowers weren’t a bad idea, after all.

[sleepysnk]

i decided to write some angsty fluff for you guys because i just really wanted to get this idea off my chest. i hope you all enjoy! ♡

He Missed Out

Pairings: Eren Jaeger x Fem!Reader

Warnings: some angst, swearing

"Still no response?"

(Y/N) sat there on Eren's bed staring at her phone. She was waiting for a reply from Jean, the guy she liked. He was lagging again on her for the 5th time and of course, she went to Eren to rant about it.

Eren and (Y/N) had been best friends since they were toddlers. Eren lived right next to her and their mothers were close, they bathed together, played at the playground, celebrated birthdays, went through the shitty four years of high school, and now they are going through the next four years of college.

The two watched each other grow up. They were no longer these children who played tag or rode bikes until the street light came on, but rather adults who had to prepare for their futures.

Eren's brunette hair was now long, it grew past his shoulders and could be tied in a neat man bun. (Y/N) grew into a woman practically overnight, her face showed her growth.

"I don't know why you're wasting your time, isn't this like the 5th time he's ghosted you?"

Eren stepped into the room with a bag of chips, he tossed it onto his bed so she could take it.

"He didn't ghost me! He's just not sure if he wants a relationship," she replied, grabbing the bag of chips off the side of the bed.

Eren rolled his teal eyes. "Yeah okay.. I've heard that one before. He ghosted you (Y/N), just like last time."

She leaned back against the headboard, she hated how Eren could be so pessimistic sometimes. He always looked at the bad in certain situations, it was clearly his toxic trait. He was too stubborn to admit it though.

She never understood his stubbornness, many people in high school questioned how she dealt with Eren and his crazy mood swings. He had a temper, causing him to get into fist fights and arguments with anyone in the student body that pissed him off. She always told those people that she could easily calm Eren down, somewhat like a comforter for him.

"He'll be back tomorrow," she said, opening the bag of chips and shoving a few in her mouth. Her tongue tasting the saltiness.

Eren didn't necessarily believe that. "Whatever you say.." he replied before plopping down next to her.

A sudden ping from her phone made her ears chirp. She grabbed it seeing Jean's name across the screen, a smile forming onto her lips.

Eren grabbed the phone from her. "Don't respond," he said, placing it next to him.

(Y/N) turned her head towards him. "Why not? Eren! Give me back my phone. It's rude to not respond," she said, trying to reach over and grab it.

His eyes narrowed, "What? (Y/N), you've got to be kidding me. He ignored you for a whole day, it's rude of him to not respond." he felt frustration going through him.

She pouted a bit, crossing her arms. "You never know Eren!"

Eren shoved her phone in his pocket. "Yeah okay.. you better provide the same energy. Don't reply to him and I swear if you do I will call your mom," he said and reached for the remote.

She rolled her eyes at Eren's actions. He didn't know why Jean wasn't responding, so why should he be mad?

"Fine, whatever you say." she said, looking at the tv screen.

-

The next day was another dreaded day of classes and homework. (Y/N) was swamped with assignments and so was Eren, he had so much to do he could barely keep count of the amount of essays and other work he had to do.

"We could study together!" Eren said, nodding his head at (Y/N) as they walked through the campus.

She was on her phone, not paying too much attention which bothered Eren.

"Hello?"

Eren grabbed her phone out of her hands.

"Eren! Give it back!" she yelled, trying to grab it from him.

He stared at the screen, seeing Jean's name displayed on the screen. Jealousy rang through Eren, it made his chest feel tight.

"Seriously?" he said. "I told you to give him a rest, (Y/N) he's literally a dick."

She rolled her eyes before taking her phone back. "Eren I get you're trying to be a good best friend, but really, I got this. He told me he was busy, relax." she replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

Eren was frustrated, why the hell does she keep going back to the guy? He's put her through so much bullshit and it bothered him to the point that he wanted to punch Jean in the face himself. He always bit his tongue on it, but it was like a thorn in his side whenever she talked or ranted about him. Can't she see what's in front of her?

"Yeah.. whatever.. look I gotta go anyway," Eren said before walking away and leaving her there.

She watched as he turned the corner, fading from her vision. Eren was stubborn but he usually got over things like this, what was the problem now?

Eren scoffed making his way to class, his mind was now clouded with negative thoughts. He wished (Y/N) would just listen to him! No matter how much he tried she wouldn't ever give his words a chance, it's like she didn't want to face the actuality that Jean was a lying asshole.

As Eren turned the corner he was faced with a sight that made his vision turn red.

There was Jean.

Leaning in against another girl.

His green eyes grew wide at the sight, what the fuck was he doing? His eye twitched at the sight, Jean was lying to her. It was blatantly obvious, and that explained why he would disappear for hours to days on end. (Y/N) was his second choice. He whipped out his phone, snapping a photo before heading off to class.

-

Two weeks went by and (Y/N) heard nothing from Eren.

No calls, no texts, nothing.

She tried approaching him at school but he ignored her, he avoided going in the same directions she did and whenever she tried texting him the messages were always opened.

She wasn't sure what she did but she needed her best friend right now. Jean stopped talking to her again, and she needed a listening ear. Eren was her usual go to but without him here, she didn't know what to do.

Here she stood outside Eren's apartment. Her heart thumped in her ears, she could feel it throughout her whole body.

She knocked on the door, waiting for a response.

The door opened, Eren's gaze met hers. She could faintly see his jaw tighten up and his face harden from the sight of her.

"Eren.. um, can we talk?"

He didn't say anything but move so she could enter his apartment. She could smell the faint scent of his body wash on his skin.

"Don't you have class?" he asked, plopping down on a chair.

She fidgeted with her fingers. "Um no.. I finished my classes early," she replied, looking at him nervously.

He nodded his head before sipping the water in his cup. "Mm.. I see"

She felt the awkwardness and tension through the air, something was up. She just didn't know exactly what.

"Jean stopped talking to me again.." she said, avoiding his eyes.

A chuckle escaped Eren's throat. "Huh.. doesn't surprise me but what can I say, you let it happen." he stood up, heading towards the sink.

What the hell? Eren has never said shit like this before to her.

"Okay seriously, what the fuck is your problem!? You ignore me for two weeks and now you're being a dick??" she scoffed.

Eren's head snapped towards her. "My problem? You want the honest truth, (Y/N)? You really wanna hear what the fuck is going on?!" he yelled, his voice sounding serious.

"Yes! It'd be good to know!" she replied, crossing her arms.

He laughed before leaning against the counter. "Jean doesn't fucking like you. Okay? I'm so fucking tired of how dense you are."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "What? Eren you don't understand how complicated it is!" she replied.

He laughed again before sliding his phone in front of her. "What's complicated about that huh?"

She picked up the phone, her eyes grew wide at the sight of Jean leaning against another girl. She felt hurt, angry, upset. Nothing could pinpoint how she felt.

"I-I'm.." she felt tears burning her eyes.

"It's so hard being your friend.." he mumbled, looking at her.

Her head shot up, "What?! Eren-"

"No let me fucking speak for once. It's so hard being best friends with you, these guys walk all over you! And guess what? I'm the one who has to fix you! Then what do you do (Y/N)? You go back and let them treat you like shit."

Tears rolled down her cheeks, a few sobs escaped her mouth.

"Eren-"

"I'm not finished, do I gotta remind you? Levi Ackerman during your freshman year? Porco Galliard your junior year? I was there for all of that. You kept going back to them and you never once listened to me! I warned you so many times, yet you rather not face the facts. I was always there to pick up the pieces." he said, his voice loud.

She sobbed, Eren was right. She never listened to him, he always was the one to give her warnings and yet she still went for it anyway.

"Eren.. I-I'm s-sorry.." she cried.

He scoffed, "It's just.. you never saw who was in front of you," he said, looking at the floor.

Her head shot up, "What? What do you mean?" she asked, her brows furrowed.

"Don't you get it (Y/N)?" he asked.

She shook her head, "N-No..? I don't even understand why you're yelling at me either!" she replied, wiping a few tears off her cheeks.

"Christ (Y/N), I fucking love you that's why!"

Silence filled the room between them. She felt her heart suddenly swell, deep down she always knew she loved Eren.. she just pushed those feelings away because she thought it was just a best friend kind of love. But it was more.

"B-But.. what about Mikasa? A-And Historia?" she asked.

Eren walked towards her. "(Y/N).. I love you, I never loved Mikasa or Historia.. they were just close friends. I always hung around them to try and push what I felt away," he replied.

"I don't understand.. how long? Why didn't you ever just come clean?" she asked, few tears escaping her eyes.

He looked away from her. "(Y/N) I knew I loved you when we started high school, Armin noticed, so did Mikasa. I wanted to come clean sooner but everytime we got close you found another guy and pushed me out of the picture."

Her eyes went to the floor, she was trying to process this information. She never once thought Eren felt the way she did, she always figured that she'd be only a best friend, nothing more.

"Eren.. I'm sorry, I'm such a horrible best friend." she said, sniffling a bit.

He walked in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Don't apologize.. I don't wanna see you hurt anymore that's all," he used the pad of his thumb to wipe away the tears on her cheeks.

She looked into his eyes, she noticed how they softened now. "E-Eren.. I-I love you.." she said, curling her fingers around his wrist.

His eyebrows shot up, "What? N-No you don't.. you're just saying that to make me feel better," he replied, looking away.

She used her hand to turn his face towards her again. "Have I ever lied to you? Eren.. I knew I loved you, I thought it was just a best friend type of love, but I knew deep down it was more than that."

His cheeks dusted pink, "I just... I don't want you saying it because I said it. You genuinely mean so much to me and fuck... (Y/N) I wanna be the one to heal you from everything," he said, cupping her cheek. "I want to make you forget all of the hurt you went through."

She felt a smile grow onto her cheeks. "I'd.. love that," she replied, looking into his hues.

Their faces were now inches apart, his lips ghosted over hers before he leaned in and kissed her. Her lips were soft, warm, the kiss was passionate, it felt.. real. Her arms went around his neck, bringing him down closer to her.

His hands found their way to her hips, he pressed her body against his.

Breaking the kiss, she looked up at him. "I love you.." she said.

A smile grew onto his lips. "I love you too.." he replied. "Please.. let me be the one to heal you from all of this, I promise, I'll never hurt you."

Her cheeks grew warm, "You promise?"

"Have I ever lied to you..?" he asked.

She felt a smile grow onto her features. "Well no.." she replied.

He pecked her lips, "There's your answer, now come on, let me take care of you."

He lifted her up, her legs going around his waist. "Eren! Be careful," she said, slapping his shoulder.

"I won't drop you, trust me!" he said, taking her to his room.

-

"I haven't heard from (Y/N) in days," Jean said, looking at Connie.

He shrugged, "I dunno! Maybe she lost her phone," he said.

Jean sighed, maybe she was just busy? He wasn't sure.

"Uh.. Jean?" Connie said, hitting his arm and pointing at someone.

Jean looked up, his jaw dropping.

There she was, but she wasn't by herself. She was with.. Eren??

"Ha! Sucks to be you!" Connie said, chuckling at Jean's expression.

He glared at him, "Shut up! What the hell?! That doesn't make sense.. she was talking to me!" he said.

Eren smirked as he walked past Jean and Connie, his hand around (Y/N)'s waist. He felt enjoyment watching Jean get pissed, he also seemed to take in that Jean noticed the small bite marks around her neck. All provided by Eren of course.

"Stupid Eren.." Jean mumbled.

Eren looked at (Y/N), she smiled up at him. "That was probably the most petty thing I've done," she giggled.

Eren smirked, leaning down to kiss her lips. "He missed out," he replied.

"He certainly did." she said, taking his hand into hers and going to class.

[babyjamiebarnes]

Build-A-Bear

Part One

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Peter Parker (platonic), background MCU characters

Warnings: [chapter] language; [series] language, smut, violence

Summary: The only people who knew she was actually a Stark were her dad, her step-mom Pepper, and her “uncles” Happy and Rhodey. A promotion within Stark Industries takes her from an already-sought after position in the Weapons Anaylsis Unit straight to the Avengers as a Weapons Enhancement Specialist... which means her dad is her new boss. There’s only one rule at work: no fraternizing with coworkers. There’s one more rule at home: no dating any Avengers. So what is she supposed to do when a grumpy super soldier becomes not-so-grumpy around her? At 25, do her dad’s rules still apply? Or is her entire livelihood at risk?

Author’s Note: I’ve written a decent portion of this but know I won’t keep writing it or post it unless I hold myself accountable and get it out there in the first place 🙈 I haven’t written much for Marvel yet but I’ve read plenty and have written for other fandoms in the past (not to mention the writing degree on my wall lol). I’ll try to post every 2-3 days to keep this moving! And if you like it and want to, buy me a coffee!

No one knew Tony Stark had a daughter. No one but Tony Stark and his daughter. Well, and her step-mom Pepper. And her godfather Rhodey. And her uncle-not-uncle Happy. But no one in their everyday lives knew. She was given her mother’s maiden name and kept a secret, even when she turned 17 and moved to a small apartment near NYU’s campus (with Happy stationed right next door, of course) to start life as a truly normal adult, or as close to normal as an undercover Stark could be. When she graduated with her PhDs in robotics and electrical engineering at 25 — proving brains really do run in the family — she moved into her own apartment in Manhattan, funded by her father under the pseudonym “Michael Myers.” Subtlety was never his strong suit.

Fortunately for you, growing up without the Stark name let you live a relatively normal life. It also allowed you to apply for a position within Stark Industries without being ushered past any red tape because of who your father is. Outside of the financial advantage you had, you worked for your spot in a STEM career. You suffered through every man in your field belittling your work despite knowing less than you. You dealt with the constant interruptions and “well, actually” because of your gender. You powered through late nights and early mornings when your mind was flowing too smoothly to quit.

The last thing you wanted to do was have all that work disregarded because you shared a name with genius billionaire playboy philanthropist Tony Stark. So you filled out the application, sent in your resume and cover letter, and attached three letters of recommendation from your professors. You went through hours of interviews, background checks (conveniently redacting your father’s name), and polygraph tests until that offer letter showed up in your email. You even had to sign the Non-Disclosure Agreements that would bar you from discussing *anything* work-related with anyone outside of your department.

You spent your first year in the weapons analysis department, evaluating alien weaponry and determining how it worked and how to disable it. You had your fair share of mishaps, of course. Holes blasted into walls, fried robot dummies, even burnt animal carcasses. By the end of your first year, your supervisor sent a commendation and proposal for you for an undisclosed promotion. After Pepper Potts “thoroughly examined your resume, cover letter, and accomplishments during your tenure with Stark Industries,” as the letter read, you were awarded a position working on the Avengers’ weapons as a Weapons Enhancement Specialist. You’d never see a fight in-person, but you were assigned to work on advancements and post-battle repairs for everyone, from the Winter Soldier’s arm to the Falcon’s wings to Vision’s... everything. The only heroes you wouldn’t work on were Iron Man and War Machine (those were your dad’s territory) and Spider-Man.

On your first day in your new position, the one and only Pepper Potts showed you to your new lab on the 47th floor. It took all your willpower to look your step-mother in the eye and say, “Wow, Miss Potts. This is amazing. It’s such an honor to meet you,” with a straight face to convince any passerby that you had no outside affiliation with her. Even if her eyes stayed steady on you, you could see her mentally rolling them.

Once you were alone behind the doors of the elevator, conversation changed course.

“You’re going to be sharing a lab with someone else,” Pepper said.

“Sweet. As long as they’re competent, that’s fine by me,” you shrugged. Part of earning your degrees was learning to share a workspace with others, even those who bumbled and fumbled with no idea what they were doing. You’d had more hair singed by nearby explosions than you’d like to admit.

“He’s still in college so he’s not here as often as the others. Most of his work will be on Spider-Man’s gadgets and suit, but you can use him for any help you need.”

Walking past the familiar faces of Dr. Banner and Dr. Cho in their respective labs, Pepper ushered you into your lab, where you were met by your father and put on the same excited facade you did with Pepper.

“Oh my god, you’re Tony Stark! This is incredible! It’s such an honor to meet you, sir!”

He shook his head at you and reluctantly accepted your outstretched hand. Oh, the jokes you’d be making at family dinners.

“Yeah, anyway, this is your new lab, Miss [Y/L/N]. Make yourself at home. This lab rat over here is mister Parker. If you have any questions, he can at least bullshit an answer for you.”

The young man on the other side of the lab perked up at the sound of his name. He tugged the goggles off his face and set down his soldering rod to rush over to you.

“Hi. Hi, I’m Peter,” he said, reaching his hand out to you.

“I’m [Y/N]. It’s nice to meet you, lab partner.”

He looked to be a bit younger than you and at least relatively smart, if the MIT sweatshirt peeking out from under his lab coat said anything. If your dad gave him an internship like this, you knew you shouldn’t question it. He had to be a genius.

The kid just smiled at you, continuing to shake your hand past what most would deem socially acceptable.

“Okay, enough of that,” Tony said, pushing on your joined hands to separate you two. “Mister Parker might be in and out of the lab from time to time. He joins the Avengers on the occasional recon mission for immediate repairs but since he’s on break from classes, you’ll see him more often than not. Play nice.”

When he noticed you surreptitiously looking Peter up and down, he added, “Remember, no fraternizing with coworkers.” He pointed a finger directly at you before he spun and pointed to your fellow lab mate, realizing he should warn Peter too to save face.

“All the blueprints you need for the Tin Man’s arm are in the system. We’ll have you start on that and see what you can do about minimizing the sound that thing makes. Any other questions, give Pep a call.”

“Thank you, mister Stark. I really do appreciate everything,” you said genuinely.

“Yeah, well… don’t let me down,” he replied, patting you on the shoulder on his way out. Pepper followed close behind, leaving you alone with Peter Parker.

“So Peter,” you started, sliding onto the lab chair next to where he remained standing, “tell me about yourself.”

“Uh… what do you want to know?” he asked as he shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

“How old are you?” you asked immediately.

“I’m 21.”

Only four years younger than you. So you’d probably get along just fine.

“I assume you’re at MIT?” He nodded. “What are you studying?”

“Biomolecular and mechanical engineering.” He said it so casually, you’d think he was talking about the last song he heard on the radio.

“Damn,” you responded, eyes wide. “I thought robotics and electrical engineering was wild but fuck, that sounds like hell.”

He laughed and nodded, letting a bit of the tension in his shoulders fall. “Yeah, it’s not easy. But it’s worth it.”

He shot you a small smile before gesturing back at his project. “I should probably get back to work and let you get started.”

For the rest of the day, you familiarized yourself with the Winter Soldier’s arm to figure out how to… turn the volume down? You assumed it was the gears inside causing the noise, but part of you wanted to outfit an audio jack and speaker just to fuck with your dad.

You and Peter worked in relative silence, aside from the playlist he had quietly playing through the lab sound system. When lunch rolled around, however, you finally spoke up.

“Hey Peter,” you called, his eyes flicking from the chemical beakers in front of him up to you. “First of all, what are you doing?”

“Um, it’s Spider-Man’s web fluid. Just trying to find more durable combinations.”

“Interesting.” As much as you wanted to touch the stringy substance, you knew better than to fiddle with someone else’s lab work. “Okay so second thing, in my last position, I’d just order food and have it brought to my floor but now that I’m on an exclusive floor, what do you do for lunch?”

“Oh, there are a couple security guys who have clearance to come into this floor. They just can’t get into any rooms so you’d have to meet them at the elevator. But I usually find something in the kitchen down the hall.”

“Oh, sweet. Thanks!” you said as you made your way out the door. Before you could fully exit, you turned back to see if Peter wanted you to grab anything. Once he promised he’d take his own break ‘once I get this one thing figured out,’ you continued to make your way to the kitchen.

As you drew closer to the doorway, you could hear three voices speaking over each other. They didn’t sound angry, but they were definitely arguing. You opened the door anyway and almost immediately froze in your tracks. The Falcon stood with one hand on his own head and one on the Winter Soldier’s head while Captain America rolled his eyes before those same eyes landed on you, along with the rest of the room.

“Perfect,” Sam started. “Hey new girl, between the three of us,” he said, pointing to himself, the Soldier, and the Captain, “who has the best hair?”

“First of all, my name is [Y/N]. Second,” you continued, making your way past them to the fridge you hoped your dad kept stocked with goodies, “that’s an unfair question.”

You grabbed a soda and popped it open before turning back to the three men. “Your hair suits each of you. Cap wouldn’t look good with Winter Soldier hair and Falcon wouldn’t look good with Cap’s hair.” You took a few steps closer, leaning against the island counter between you and eyeing each of them. Your eyes settled on the Winter Soldier, unashamedly flitting across his face and admiring the sharpness of his features. “You,” pointing at him, “could probably pull off either of their looks, though.”

Bucky smirked at you, but his rosy cheeks gave away a hint of embarrassment at your compliment. Steve and Sam, on the other hand, weren’t taking it quite as gracefully.

“What?!” Sam shouted. “Okay, now I know you’re lying. I could pull off Cap’s hair for sure.”

“You know, I think shaggy hair would really suit me,” Cap said, only half sarcastically.

You giggled to yourself as the three of them started talking over each other again, all dead set on their own hair being the best of them and positive they could pull off the others’ looks. While they bickered, you searched the pantry until you found a snack to at least get you through the remainder of the day.

“Alright boys, it’s been fun but I have work to do,” you said as you walked past them again. “Actually, wait. Bucky — can I call you Bucky?” He nodded even though you continued anyway. “If you could stop by lab six today, I’d love to check out your arm in person. The digital renderings aren’t quite the same.”

“Uh, okay. Sure. I’ll find you,” he said quietly.

“Sweet, thanks!” And with that, you skedaddled back to your lab.

[primasveraas-writing]

"the holy or the broken" -Ted Lasso

I'm so sorry.

WORD COUNT: 2401

XXX

There are three eras in Roy’s life, and they’re all defined by the same woman.

The third echoes the first: Roy Kent, angry at the world with no one to pull him out of his frustration. It’s also worse, though, because before, Roy lived in blissful ignorance of the joy and sorrow that laid ahead.

Rebecca and Ted express their surprise at Roy’s anger. They thought him changed, or perhaps that grief would prevail over rage, and they were wrong. Because Roy Kent, when stripped of everything he is -his athleticism and grim humor and the love of his life- has anger. Nothing less and nothing more.

At first, he can’t say her name. He doesn’t even think it, because every reminder of her is a reminder that she’s gone. Despite her mark on everything- the furniture they picked out together, the bed they shared, her usual seat at the dining table, the compliments she gave his hair and clothes- Roy doesn’t think of her. Which means he doesn’t think at all, so he becomes his anger and his pain, and nothing else.

He stops coaching, obviously. Nobody asks him if he’ll keep going, nor does he announce his departure. His absence, professionally, personally, emotionally- is expected fully. Though people still coming to the fucking house. He tolerates her parents, and Phoebe once or twice, but eventually the visits dwindle, and Roy doesn’t check his phone or answer the door. There’s shouting, sometimes- inevitably Ted Lasso- but Roy has soundproof headphones for a reason and he’s perfectly fine with calling the cops on Ted. And he does, more than once.

His sister begs him to talk to her, or at least to Phoebe, and Roy, in all his anger, doesn’t have the heart to turn his niece away. So it’s just her and Roy, a few days a week, and they order food directly to the house and Phoebe tells him about school, and he grunts in acknowledgment. She cries sometimes too, and that’s when he holds her. No words are exchanged, but he comforts her, enough so that the sobs stop. The numb feeling he has remains intact.

The yoga moms scout his address, somehow, and drop off a wine basket- they drink in relative silence, and clean up his house and make a few casseroles. He picks at the food, but they slowly disappear, and it’s almost nice to eat more than once or twice a day.

It doesn’t get easier. People tell him it will, that the pain will start to lessen, but it doesn’t. Not three weeks after, or four, or five, or when summer emerges and the lilies bloom.

Roy’s not particularly good at adapting. He never wanted to be. And it’s bullshit that he’d have to start now, for some shit fucking luck and life-alerting occurrences he never saw coming.

Because he never expected that there would be an “after” regarding Keeley Jones. It’s not something he planned for and certainly not something he ever wanted. It’s just: one breath she’s there and the next, she’s not. Gone and the house empty, her office too, and suddenly every space at Richmond is filled with flowers because Roy doesn’t accept a single bouquet.

He does start to say her name, although only to his sister- the only adult he talks to. He spits it out, with venom, and he suspects that it’s this habit that prompts Rebecca to show up at his house.

She sneaks her way in, the stubborn shit. Apparently, she hid down the street until he ordered food, bribed the deliverer with an obscene amount of money, and rang his doorbell herself. Rebecca slips into the entry before Roy realizes it’s her, and slams the door behind her.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He hisses, and to her credit, Rebecca doesn’t flinch. She gives her best businesswoman smile, the one that so directly contradicts the flint in her eyes, and straightens.

“Someone informed me that you made developments in your grief-

“Fuck you-”

“-so I thought a visit was due.”

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

“Somebody told me once that I was always welcome in her home. Has that changed?”

“Yeah. She’s fucking dead.”

Rebecca does bristle at that one but she doesn’t challenge the statement. Instead, she clears her throat, setting Roy’s food down on the table in the foyer.

“Your sister told me how quiet you’ve been. And that any time you talk about Keeley, you do so with an incredible amount of anger.”

Roy doesn’t deign to respond, glowering at Rebecca instead. She takes a look around the room, in all its dusty glory. Lights off, trash piling on the floor, clothes strewn over backs of couches. It matches Roy, in terms of appearance. Unkept. Uncared for. Unloved.

“I’m calling the police,” Roy decides, scanning the room for his phone. “You can’t fucking impersonate a food deliverer. Or fucking be here when I don’t want you to be.”

“I paid him handsomely-”

“-illegal. And fireable.”

“-enough so that his salary for the next few months should be covered.”

“Get out.”

“I can’t do that.”

“I don’t give a damn about what you’re here to fucking do or say. Leave me the fuck alone.”

“And leave you to stew in your anger and your filth? I don’t think so.”

And Rebecca struts into his living room and seats herself on a sofa.

“Dr. Sharon proposed to me that your anger had legitimate grounds. Not just your usual brooding about playing and coaching a game for a living, but you know,” Rebecca gestures to Roy. “Real reasons to be so surly.”

“My fucking wife died.”

“Yes, well. My best friend died yet I’ve been outside over the past few months.” She gives Roy another placid smile. “Despite the fact that I’m mourning.”

“It’s different.”

“Undoubtedly, yes. You’ve been much unhealthier in your habits.”

“Fuck you,” Roy growls. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

“No.” Keeley would refer to that as Rebecca’s scariest tone. “I came to talk.”

“I don’t care.” His hands clench into fists.

“You’re angry at Keeley.”

“I’m fucking pissed at you and your fucking break-in habits. Did you fucking compare notes with fucking Lasso?”

“You need someplace to direct your anger, and since fate dealt you both such a terrible hand, the only thing you can think to do is blame Keeley.”

“That makes as much fucking sense as you impersonating a takeaway driver. Fuck you.”

“So you go from not being able to say her name to saying it like a curse because you’re much more comfortable with your anger than sorrow.”

“I can say Keeley’s name.”

“Can you say it without sounding like the angriest person on the entire planet, Roy?”

“Fuck off.”

“Well?” Rebecca stands. In heels, she towers over Roy, who glares right back at her. “Show me you can, Roy.”

“I don’t have to prove shit to you.”

“No. But I asked you to.”

“I’m not fucking angry at my dead fucking wife.”

‘You’re angry at someone.”

“Yeah. You.”

“Come on now, Roy. Do better.”

“I’m NOT fucking angry at Keeley!”

Rebecca raises an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

“Fuck you.” Roy paces before her, ignoring how every step makes his knee throb. “Fuck you, fuck off. Fuck you.”

“Are you even sad?” Rebecca says quietly, and Roy freezes, his muscles clenching painfully.

“Ask me again,” he dares, his tone low. He takes a step closer to Rebecca, who remains unfazed.

“I said: are you sad your wife died in your arms, Roy?”

“Fuck you!” Roy bellows. He spins away to upturn the coffee table, sending dishes crashing to the floor.

“Do you miss her? Do you wish she hadn’t died?”

“I’ll fucking kill you.”

“So I’ll see Keeley again. How lovely.”

Roy roars, using the full force of his body to punch a hole in the wall. His fist comes out covered in plaster, bright red blood leaking from his knuckles dusted white.

“She fucking died in a freak fucking accident. There’s nothing- nothing- she could have done differently.”

“But she left you.”

“She fucking- she-” Roy’s chest heaves as he looks wildly around the room, at anything but the woman in front of him. “She was supposed to get her fucking nails done. We were going to get Thai for dinner. We had a sexy fucking weekend planned, and she was going to come home and it all would have been fucking fine.”

“And now she’s gone.”

“We can’t do any of that shit. Can’t fucking fall asleep next to her ever again. Or hold her fucking hand. We had fucking plans-” His words catch in his throat, and he looks away, examining the new damage to the wall. “We had plans.”

“Roy-”

“Don’t.” He closes his eyes. “You riled me up. Is that what you fucking wanted?”

“Yes,” Rebecca admits, and she retakes her seat on the couch, disregarding the surrounding wreckage. “Since the one person you want to talk to is gone, I figured I’d substitute.”

Roy glances around the house, at the forgotten groceries by the entrance, at the overturned table, and at the destroyed wall. “Good fucking job.”

“Thanks,” Rebecca says swiftly. “I figured I’d be better at it than Ted.”

“I’d have fucking killed him.”

“I thought so.” Rebecca sighs, massaging her temple. For the first time since her arrival, her bravado fades and her shoulders slump. It’s a familiar sight, one Roy witnessed the last time he saw Rebecca- at Keeley’s funeral, where all traces of the usually confident woman had faded away, and a grieving shell stood in her place. “Is that it, then? All the anger is for what’s never to be?”

“Yeah. That’s it.”

“And this is the first time you’re realizing it?”

Roy’s eyes narrow. “Yeah, it is.”

Rebecca shrugs. “Okay.”

Silence prevails for a long while, then Roy sighs and takes a seat next to Rebecca.

“You know, my office has quite literally never been quieter. Even with Ted bursting in at all hours, it’s just… not the same. I started to get frustrated at Higgins trying to coordinate with me simply because he’s not the person I want to see. And then I woke up angry, too. Absolutely pissed at the sun just for rising. Because every day that I experience is one I should be sharing with her.”

She looks down at her hands, which tremble slightly. “It’s not fair. And I have nowhere to put all my anger and blame.”

Roy wordlessly gestures to the wall, and Rebecca gives a soft laugh.

“There’s one option.” Then, she swipes at her eyes, and sniffs.

“Keeley would have never forgiven any of us if we gave up on you, Roy.”

“I know.” He clears his throat. “She told me as much. About me.” He rolls his eyes, then blinks rapidly. “I’m not supposed to give up on myself.”

“Good job,” Rebecca retorts, and Roy growls, but Rebecca gives another breathy laugh. “You didn’t call the police on me. I’d say that’s a good sign.”

“Don’t let it go to your fucking head.”

“No. Of course not.”

“Thank you,” Roy says very, very quietly. Rebecca takes his hand and squeezes it briefly. Her palm comes away coated in dust and blood.

“Clean up, Roy,” she tells him, standing. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”

-

Rebecca leaves, but she sends over a team of cleaners and a fresh batch of groceries. For the first time since Keeley died, his fridge is fully stocked with food for him to make into meals, and the house is spotless. He sends a text to his sister, telling her to fuck off in a way she’ll know means thank you, and showers. He trims his beard and dries himself off with a freshly laundered towel, then he falls asleep ass naked on the bed and sleeps for twelve hours.

He goes to see Phoebe and the rest of his family. They catch him up on all the petty bullshit he doesn’t give a fuck about, and it’s nearly normal, except that he drives home alone to an empty house.

He goes back to yoga, and every stretch feels like he’s never done a downward dog before in his life. Still, the wine after is good, and he ends up going home with a spare bottle and another casserole, and so another part of his life resumes.

It’s a slow process. Richmond is a hard place to face, with Ted trying to be casual as he checks in on him, and the boys stepping around him like glass, and Jaime Tartt in tears when he first catches sight of Roy. Her office, the lack of visits from his wife during the day, and the plaque commemorating her on the wall hurt like getting that phone call all over again. But it’s the beginning of the mourning process, Dr. Sharon will tell him, and now that it’s started, the hurt will eventually lessen.

With every end, a beginning.

Roy takes his first steps.

-

There are three eras in Roy’s life, and a thousand different Roys.

There’s the prodigy footballer, eight years old and scoring goal after goal in every match. There’s the Chelsea player, a championship winner, then the Richmond player, bittered by age. Injured Roy Kent, retired, coaching his kid niece’s football team. Then, briefly: professional commentator. Richmond coach.

Roy Kent, who fucking hates Jaime Tartt except usually his girlfriend is nice at least. Roy Kent, Keeley’s boyfriend. Roy Kent, Keeley’s fiancé, husband- widower.

Roy Kent- a bastard luckily enough that Keeley loved him too. Roy Kent, who lit up when she walked into the room, who smiled more during their time together than he ever had before in his life. Who wanted to start a family with her. Who doted on his wife and promised her the world and a thousand other cheesy things, because she had that power over him.

Roy, who was beside her at the very end, who evoked her last words and smile. Roy, who had that horrible, painful privilege of easing his wife’s passing with reassurances and small comforts and anything he could do to make her feel his love.

Roy, who loves her still. Who’ll die loving her and missing her, and wishing they had just one more day.

Roy, who learns to live to make her proud.

[musecharm-writes]

Keep Your Nose Clean (Platonic Reader X Hopper)

ANONYMOUS: hey, i love how you wrote hopper! can we get a dad hopper insert �

Summary: It just happens that you have a harder time keeping your anger in check than most people do. That doesn’t mean you’re bad.

You’re getting pretty tired of people telling you that you are.

(**Note: Reader’s mother says and does some subtle things that could potentially trigger people who have dealt with manipulative or emotionally abusive parents. It isn’t extreme, but I still wanted to include a warning just in case.)

You aren’t a bad person.

All right, you’ll admit it: you have a bit of a short fuse, and sometimes you don’t have the best judgment because of it. But who doesn’t lose their temper every once in a while?

It just happens that you have a harder time keeping your anger in check than most people do, that’s all. That doesn’t mean you’re bad.

So you’re getting pretty tired of people telling you that you are.

“God, I just can’t believe you,” your mom says, pulling at her hair in frustration. “Every other week, you’re getting into a fight, or skipping class, or keying Mrs Dombrovsky’s car!”

“She kicked me out of class for ‘being disruptive’ even though literally everyone talks in her class! She hates me, Mom!”

“So that gives you the right to key her car?” Your mom shakes her head and sighs. She looks defeated. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”

You cross your arms and look away stubbornly, setting your jaw.

Your mom stands there in silence for a moment, trying to ice you out you guess, before she gives up.

“I have to get to the diner. I’ll be home late, so you’ll have to find something to eat.” She waits for you to say something, and when you don’t, she takes a step closer and puts a hand on your shoulder. “Honey, I just want what’s best for you. I don’t understand why you don’t see that.”

You jerk your shoulder out of her grip. “Maybe because you never listen to me,” you fire back.

She looks hurt, just like she always does when you tell her the truth. You regret it immediately.

She sniffs and lifts her chin. “I’m leaving now. I hope you have a better attitude by the time I get home.”

She turns and leaves, grabbing her keys from the dish on the hall table without stopping. When she closes the door, the sound seems to echo through the house.

You stay there, standing in the middle of the living room, listening to the wall clock tick, for several long seconds. Then you sit down on the rug and cry.

--

When you get to the cabin, you knock on the door and wait -- you don’t try to go in because you know the door is locked.

When the door opens, revealing a girl with curly brown hair in baggy jeans and a flannel shirt, you say, “Is he here?”

She nods. “Yes.”

“Can I see him?”

“Yes,” she says again, stepping aside so you can enter the cabin.

The creaking of the old wood floors alone is enough to ease some of the tension in your shoulders. You breathe in the smell of wood and old furniture, and when you breathe out, the anger and the sadness isn’t gone, but it doesn’t seem so crushing anymore.

Hopper is in his recliner with his feet up, a half-finished beer on the side table. He looks over at you and seems surprised, but not unpleasantly so.

“Hey, kid,” he says. Then, because he’s always understood you better than anyone, he adds, “Bad day?”

You nod.

He nods back. He reaches down and throws the lever on his recliner back into its original position, and then stands with a grunt, leaning backwards a little to pop his back. Without saying a word, he heads for the porch, and you follow.

The two of you sit on creaky old deck chairs, looking out over the lake. Hopper takes a carton of cigarettes and a lighter out of his breast pocket, sticking a cigarette in his mouth. You hold out a hand and he raises an eyebrow.

“When’d you start smoking?”

You shrug. “Few months ago.” You keep your hand extended.

He eyes you for a moment before sighing and putting a cigarette in your hand. “Just this once, though. I want you to quit; ‘s a bad habit.”

“Really?” You say, putting your own cigarette in your mouth. He lights his and then hands you his lighter so that you can do the same. “I don’t think you get to lecture me about this , Hop,” you say, eyeing the lit cig between his fingers.

He chuckles and takes a drag. “I’ve been smoking since I was younger than you. I think I have every right to lecture you about it.”

You consider this for a moment, and then you shrug and nod. He does have a point.

“So, what brings you here on this lovely, overcast night,” Hopper drawls, turning to stare out at the horizon. You do the same, taking a long drag from your cigarette.

“My mom,” you say simply.

“Ah,” Hopper says. “Givin’ you grief again?”

You sigh. “Yeah. She’s pissed off because I got caught keying Mrs Dombrovsky’s car.”

Hopper whistles. “That’s somethin’. What’d Dombrovsky do?”

“She kicked me out of class for talking and wrote me up for being disruptive. Which is utter bullshit because everybody talks in that class, but I’m the only one who gets in trouble? Like, whatever, bitch, I know you hate me, I don’t care,” you roll your eyes and lift the cigarette to your lips again.

“She didn’t do anything else?”

You exhale smoke through your nostrils. “...Why do you ask?”

“Because that’s not the kinda thing that really grinds your gears, kid. The shit that really gets to you is more personal than that. You don’t key somebody’s car because they kicked you outta pre-calc.”

You hesitate. “She… She called me a burnout.”

Hopper nods, grimacing. “That sounds like Dombrovsky, all right. That woman had it in for me, too.” He looks over at you. “That all she said?”

You bite your lip and shake your head. “She said I was nothing but a burnout and a delinquent, and she didn’t want to see me in her class for the rest of the day if all I was going to do was distract the other students,” you say. The words are practically burned into your memory. Just thinking about it makes you so mad you want to punch something. “All I did was ask somebody to move so I could see what she was writing on the board.”

Hopper shakes his head. “I’m sorry, kid,” he says, and he sounds it, too. You know there’s nothing he can do about it, though; Hopper’s not your dad, and it’s not like he can arrest Dombrovsky for being a heinous bitch to you. At least he can be there for you, though.

The two of you are silent for a while, just listening to the cicadas and the gentle lapping of the waves on the lakeshore.

Then, Hopper says, “How’re your grades?”

You shrug. “Okay, I guess.”

He raises a brow. “‘Okay?’ What’s ‘okay’ mean?”

You pick at a loose thread on your shirt with your free hand and smoke to buy yourself time. “I have a C in English.”

“Uh huh.”

“...And a D in Spanish…”

“How come? And why do you have a C in English, I thought you liked English?”

You sigh in frustration. “I didn’t wanna do this stupid oral presentation in Spanish so I skipped class that day. And the book we’re reading in English is really boring, I can’t focus on it when we have to read at home.”

Hopper shakes his head, frowning. “Kid, c’mon, we’ve talked about you skipping school. You’re gonna get into trouble if you don’t stop ditching.”

You look down at your lap, feeling guilty, like you’ve let him down. “I know. ...Sorry.”

He sighs and takes a drag from his cigarette. “It’s fine,” he says, smoke trailing from his mouth and nose. “Just try a little harder, okay? I know school sucks and it’s boring, but you have to stick it out until you graduate. Don’t be like me that way, all right?”

You nod.

“You know, when I was your age, I was dealing with a lot of the same… issues you are. Shitty teachers, boring classes, parents who either aren’t there or aren’t listening to you. I was angry. Hell,” he laughs shortly, bitterly, and you know more than ever this man recognises something in you most other people never will. “Sometimes, it felt like I’d never stop being angry. But I want you to know it will get better. And if you ever start to feel like you’re all alone in the world… If that anger and hurt ever starts to feel too big…” He looks you dead in the eye. “I want you to come talk to me. Okay?”

You swallow thickly and nod. “Okay, Hop.” You feel wetness on your cheeks, and you swipe at them with your palm, sniffling.

Hopper notices and stands, wordlessly opening his arms to you. You accept gratefully, and he lets you cry into his chest for as long as you need before you pull away slowly, sniffing and wiping your eyes.

“Thanks, Hop.”

“Anytime, kid.”

[chasing-classics]

Addicted to the Odds- Fezco x Reader

Pairing: Fezco x Reader

 Warning(s): Smut, mentions of drug addiction, angst, language

 Summary: You are an addict and it is indirectly Fez’s fault. Out of nowhere, your dealer refuses to sell to you anymore and you have a gut feeling Fez is the reason for it. You confront him and angst/smut ensues.

 ‘’What do you mean you don’t have any?’’ you all-but growled out from the screen door of your dealer’s run-down house.

 ‘’Like I said, ma. I don’t got any for you anymore,’’ he replied, taking a hit of his bong and refusing to look you in the eye.

 ‘’Nothing? OxyContin, fentanyl-‘’

 ‘’Nothing. Nada. Zip,’’ he cut you off.

 You huffed, narrowing your eyes as you shifted your weight to your right-hand side. You ran a hand through your hair, trying to keep a level head. For the past year-and-a-half you had been an addict. It all began when you attended a party with your best friend Cassie. She had just recently began seeing McKay and it was through one of his intense parties you met Fezco. The ginger-haired man caught your attention immediately. He was beautiful, in his own way. At the time, you had only dealt with weed and various fruity drinks. You were a good, kind-hearted girl. You did well in school and were well-liked by everyone. That was the thing about addiction; nobody ever strives to be an addict. It starts with one hit, then slowly crawls to another, then another, and another. You don’t realize you’re addicted until it’s too late, and by then the claws of addiction were already too deeply imbedded in your skin.

You wanted to let loose, have a good time. You wanted to fit into Fez’s world. ‘’Come on, Y/N get the stick out of your ass and live a little,’’ you remembered Nate Jacobs smirked down at you. That was the push you needed, you were embarrassed to admit. It sounded like a bad health class lecture, ‘’don’t give into peer pressure’’ and all that jazz. You remembered approaching Fez, his eyes trailing up and down your body with interest. That was the first night of the rest of your life as an addict. The moment you downed the OxyContin pill with a bottle of Hennessy, your life changed forever. All to get the attention of a boy who probably only saw you as another client. You ended up finding a different dealer because it became too difficult to continue going to Fez, who you had fallen for only to feel the sting of embarrassment when you realized he was never going to see you the same way you saw him. And that’s your story; became a fucking drug addict by the age of seventeen because you had a crush on a drug dealer who you had a handful of conversations with in the past nearly two years.

 ‘’Did Fez put you up to this?’’ you hissed. Your dealer’s silence was all the confirmation you needed.

 ‘’Fez! Open the door!’’ you yelled, banging on his front door.

 You knew Ashtray probably alerted his older brother of your arrival, but it didn’t stop you from marching to the front door. Every second that Fez took to answer the door felt like hours, sweat dripping down your body as the withdrawals were hitting you. Just when you were about to raise your fist to knock again, the door opened and the man in question was right in front of you. He towered over you, his green eyes taking you in and you could’ve kicked yourself for the butterflies you felt in your tummy.

 ‘’Y/n?’’ he questioned.

 ‘’Why did you do it? Cut off my supply?’’ you crossed your arms over your chest, your whole body fidgeting.

 ‘’I dunno what you’re talking about,’’ you could tell he was lying when he couldn’t look you in the eyes.

 ‘’Bullshit. You talked to my dealer, I know you did. Why?’’ you took a step towards him to the point if you puffed your chest up your breasts would brush against his chest.

 ‘’You need help, y/n,’’ he was about to head back inside when you forced your way in.

 ‘’You’re one to talk Fez! You sold me the drugs at McKay’s party! You got me into this life! God, I’m so fucking stupid,’’ you cried out, running your hands through your hair in frustration. You ceased and straightened yourself out, glaring at Fez.

‘’I wanted so badly to be in your life. For you to notice me,’’ you whimpered.

Fez stood in front of you, an unidentifiable expression on his face. He took a step towards you, reaching out for you only for you to take a step backwards. He nodded, taking in a shaky breath,

 ‘’I did notice you. Fuck, man. I noticed you the moment you walked into that party. You were full of life, but still shy. You brought this fucking light around you everywhere you went, ma. And when you came up to me to buy some pills, I wanted to say no. I should’ve said no. But I wanted an excuse to talk to you or see you again,’’ he confessed.

 You didn’t notice the tears until you felt them roll down your cheeks. You swiped them away, your heart beating furiously in your chest. You turned around and left, the sound of the screen door slamming ringing in your ears as you ran.

 Rehab took a lot out of you. You often questioned your decision to enter the facility, but the desire to retake control outweighed the desire to feel numb. 90 days felt like 90 years, but you were able to take the next step in your rehabilitation. Another three months passed and the light slowly but surely began to show in your eyes.

It had taken a lot of you, but when you were able to celebrate your twenty-first birthday with your old high school friends, it was all worth it.

 Cassie had convinced you to go out for one night. No drugs, only drinks if you were sure you could handle it. After two years sober, you were aware of your boundaries. You knew you could still go out and live a normal life, you just had to be careful in order to avoid a relapse. So here you were, celebrating your sobriety and your birthday. Maddy, Lexi, BB, and Kat were more than happy to come along and catch up. As you laughed and enjoyed your party, your face fell when your e/c hues locked with all-too familiar green ones. Fez was in the back of the club, talking to Rue and nursing his beer.

 You prayed you wouldn’t regret this, but you excused yourself from your friends and headed to the restroom. Thankfully, nobody else was in there as you leaned against the porcelain sink, staring deeply into your reflection. You sighed as your eyes analyzed every inch of you. You looked great, you felt great, so why did you feel so empty?

 The creak of the bathroom door didn’t cause you to look away, but the strong hands on your waist sure did. You jumped slightly until the smell of cologne and weed hit your nostrils.

 ‘’Fez,’’ you breathed quietly, suddenly becoming more self-conscious despite you looking like sex-in-high-heels.

 He didn’t respond, just pressed his face into the back of your neck. You felt the hardness that was his dick press into the small of your back. You sighed in content, his hands trailing up and down your exposed arms.

 ‘’I’m sorry,’’ he whispered. You blinked away the tears, shaking your head as he looked up so that your two reflections were looking at each other.

 ‘’Please,’’ you didn’t know what you were asking for, but Fezco did.

 He turned you around and slowly took in your face before capturing your lips in a long overdue kiss. It was Heaven and Hell, passion and sin, all together in that one kiss. The past four years replayed throughout your mental as you pulled him closer to you as your hands were on his chest and running through his shaved head. His hands gripped your waist as your tongues fought for dominance. You lost and moaned into his mouth when he nipped at your bottom lip before his tongue entered your mouth. The moan that erupted from his throat when you sucked on his tongue encouraged your hands to trail down and your hand to grip his hardened cock through his pants.

 That was all it took for him to pull away, shoving your lace panties down to your ankles and spread your legs as he pinned you against the bathroom wall. Anyone could have walked in and that thought alone caused you to become slick. Fez groaned when he pressed a calloused hand to cup your pussy.

 ‘’F-Fez,’’ you whined, hands going underneath his shirt to grip his shoulders and claw at his back.

 ‘’Fucking beautiful,’’ he breathed as he looked down at you.

 You didn’t even notice that he had taken his dick out of his pants until you felt the swollen head at your tight entrance. You looked up at Fez, engraving the look of pure desire and adoration on his face. He raised his eyebrows, as if asking one last time if this was ok. You nodded and couldn’t prevent the high-pitched whine that erupted from you as he entered you in one swift thrust. He grunted when he was fully sheathed in your tightness, hands gripping your thighs as you were pinned against the dingy walls of the restroom and impaled on his throbbing cock.

 ‘’Fez, please. Move I need to feel you,’’ you whimpered, fingernails clawing at his muscular back.

 ‘’Fuck baby,’’ he groaned as he slowly pulled back, only to snap his hips forward. Your cries fueled him, egging him on as he gained momentum. The sight of you, looking like something out of the cover of a magazine, taking his dick in this grimy bathroom in this shabby club. The fact that something so beautiful could want him, let alone cry out his name as he fucked into your tight pussy. The sight of his angry cock disappearing into your drenched folds. The revelation that you still loved him just as he still loved you. It was almost too good to be true.

 You moaned when one of his hands yanked down the front of your dress to release your tits so that he could watch them bounce from the force of his thrusts. You closed your eyes and threw your head against the wall when his mouth latched onto one of your breasts and began nipping and sucking at your bud. His thrusts were rough and unforgiving and you could hear the slaps of your skin echoing in the dimly lit room.

 ‘’You’re so tight for me, ma,’’ he groaned, his facial hair tickling the soft skin of your breasts.

 The tip of his thick manhood reached that special spot inside of you, causing you to cry out his name and clutch the back of his head. He focused on hitting that specific spot, succeeding over and over again. You could do nothing but moan out Fez’s name and hold onto him and take whatever he chose to give you. The feeling of being full of him and belonging to him was too much.

 ‘’I’m going to cum, Fez,’’ you panted, tears at the corner of your eyes as your walls began clamping around his thickness.

 ‘’Cum for me, mama. Milk my dick,’’ he grunted, hips pounding you into the wall. While one of his hands still held onto your thigh the other trailed to the side of your face and gently held your jaw, forcing you to look up into him as he took you, ravaged you. His dirty words and the strong grip on your face combined with the lust swirling in his beautiful green hues was too much. You came with a scream of his name, his thumb in your mouth muffling your cries only slightly as you felt your juices coat him and in between your thighs.

 ‘’I fucking love you,’’ he hissed, pressing his forehead against yours’ as he sloppily thrusted a few more times before you felt the warmth of his load crept up into the depths of your body.

 All you could do was hold each other; your legs wrapped around his waist. Your heels still on as his cum began dripping from your sore pussy. Eventually both of your breathing relaxed and you pressed a kiss to his lips. He kissed you back, looking down once more to watch his release drip out of you and his dick slowly slide out of you. He kissed you again before helping you down.

‘’I’m sorry,’’ he whispered.

You cupped his face with your hands, offering him a small smile.

 ‘’I know. Just hold me.’’

 You didn’t know what the future held for the two of you. You didn’t think a house with a white picket fence and two darling children was in your future with Fez, if you even had a future with him. The odds weren’t in your favor, but the same could’ve been said about the seventeen-year-old girl who was addicted to OxyContin and fentanyl. They said you wouldn’t make it to see your twenty-first birthday. The dusty clock that read 12:01 AM proved them all wrong. Maybe you and Fez could too.