#tired of. degree. it has taken me so long. i am not saying years but it has taken me so long ALREADY and it is going to CONTINUE to take

[intertexts]

gggh.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my sister that I didn't find her instagram post funny and that I didn't want her to send me things like that again?

I (32f) have never had a good relationship with my sister (34f). We have gotten somewhat better over time, but we have always had a strained relationship. We are about as opposite as you can be. Social rights issues? No compromise. ACAB? Constant disagreements. Politics: best never mention them. TV Shows? No interest at all. Music? We cannot stand each other's music. We genuinely have nothing except our blood and the fact we were raised by the same people in common.

I am currently in the process of finishing my PhD and live on a different continent to her. We have been vaguely trying to talk and maintain a cordial friendship from afar.

For the past four months I had been preparing for a conference that I was organizing, leading, and moderating. It was a massive project that will be a huge part of my dissertation research, and it went very well. The day after the conference I had a long career planning discussion with some academic advisors, and spent about three hours talking in my second language with my own advisor. The combination of everything left me genuinely exhausted to the point that I woke up the day after it all still too tired to move.

After I woke up, I realized I had a text from her containing an instagram link - no comment, no notes, no context, just the link. I know I wasn't in a perfect headspace and still needed more sleep, but I clicked it because usually she just spam sends me instagram videos about random baby rearing things she finds funny. I don't find any of them amusing, but tolerate them because she seems to enjoy it. I usually just nod my head or offer a few responses to show I've seen it and move on.

But this video was different. This video was, as far as I can tell, an influencer attempt at selling an AI. It had a young woman walk into a classroom with the onscreen text describing how "my professor is the same age as us and she has her phd!" and when she was asked how she got it, the video shows how the "teacher" went onto Youtube, put Youtube videos into this AI which created an algorithm to summarize the video. It ends with the words "University is a joke in 2024".

I was....genuinely offended. After everything I had been through working on this conference and with years of thesis work, I was just hurt. I watched it a few times, trying to understand what it was even trying to say, and could come up with no good reason for why she would just send it to me. So I wrote back to her "idk how you even want me to respond."

She said she thought it was funny, and I asked her if she understood why I wouldn't find it funny. She wrote back "because you lack my sense of humor smh." I tried explaining why I was upset and reframed it in the context of her job. She doubled down that she thought it was funny, but that it was because she thought it was amusing anyone would think they could get any kind of degree like that.

I explained that AI is genuinely a problem in universities right now and that our students are using it to get through their classes and it's causing a lot of chaos with profs trying to crack down on it. Then I told her it felt like she sent me something just to annoy me.

The argument continued from there. I asked her not to send me stuff like that again, and she asked how she was supposed to know I would be triggered by an AI video, and that I was being oversensitive, and how it was my fault for always assuming that she is plotting to piss me off and that she can never show an interest in my life without me having a "feelings dumpfest" and calling her out for being a bully.

I don't understand how she could think sending a video to me saying "university is a joke in 2024" with no context at all would be taken as a joke in the first place. And I felt like if I didn't tell her I didn't like this kind of video and why it made me upset she would keep sending things like this to me I'd have to keep seeing and ignoring future posts.

AITA for telling her I didn't think it was funny and to stop?

Should I have just ignored it and gone back to sleep? (At this point that's what I felt like I should have done...)

What are these acronyms?

[lucky-dyse]

The Nice And Valid Criticisms of Dyson Bradley (bitch)

General warning for Good Omens Season 2 spoilers

Please heed this warning before reading further, thank you.

I just binged the entirety of Good Omens 2 (which I will refer to as GO2 for simplicity from now on) and I had a few thoughts about it.

First of all I want to preface this by saying I loved it. I'm not writing a long hate speech bc I enjoyed every moment of it, there are just some thinky thoughts I need to throw into the void. For example, the writing was superb. Gabriel's "Jim" character was my absolute favourite. I'm a sucker for 'scarecrow' type characters and he was my silly little guy. I wanted to pinch his cheeks. I loved how Aziraphale and Crowley inadvertently adopted him for a solid minute.

The diversity of the show in its entirety was refreshing to see (as a personal complaint, though, I wish we could've seen at least one trans man). Especially the disabled angel. There were only two slight rough spots about the disabled representation that I felt.

1. I did not like how the disabled character kept being forgotten and meant so little to the season that if you removed them nothing would change.

2. I did not like that, despite all of the representation of queer people, people of colour, we only got one visibly disabled character. It felt sort of tokenized, like "hey look at me there's a wheelchair user! Okay onto more of the other minorities that we care more about."

I liked to see the reality that is the fact that queer people can have toxic relationships or be toxic in a relationship. It's not all sunshine and rainbows. Nina having a genuinely difficult relationship with Lindsay was good for the fact that it was very real and kicked all the lesbian fetishism a bit by saying "these are people in a relationship, not sex appeal." Which was fucking amazing. So tired of seeing lesbian relationships be perfect all the time. I also absolutely loved the fact that they didn't end up together and did the mature thing. They communicated and decided it wasn't a good idea to date right after Nina got dumped.

Gabriel was a joy to watch and I loved the mystery of what happened to him. Somehow, despite how sudden it was, the relationship formed between Beelzebub and Gabriel didn't feel sudden or forced. It was actually really sweet and I was happy they got to be together. I didn't like how Gabriel's memories came back in a fly, I wish Beelzebub had taken the time to slowly remind him of who he was and ultimately make him a more optimistic and better person from the transition of Jim's experiences to Gabriel's. Though I understand it was a subplot and limited to 6 episodes of already hectic storylines. You can only do so much, especially with the strikes.

Shax was a pretty flat character, which is fine. She made a good antagonist, I just wish there was more of a sense of danger like in the first season. It felt a lot calmer and more love focused, I'd love to see aro representation here too.

Which brings me to my final criticism.

Aziraphale.

Now I have no degree in literature, I am literally [REDACTED] years old and fresh outta highschool. This is mainly just my opinion. As the rest of it has been.

But it was my interpretation that the entirety of GO season one was to represent Aziraphale finally accepting the fact that he is not on the Angels' side nor the Demons' side, but on Crowley's side. I had thought it was quite clear that he and Crowley officially made their own little corner of nice living outside of the binary.

However, this seems completely erased in GO2. It's not clear until the last episode, but Aziraphale still wants to be on the Angels' side after everything. It's like GO1 never happened. It felt like a soft reset of his personality in its entirety. Same with Crowley and the whole "nice" thing. I had thought that he was accepting his niceness enough to tolerate being called it every once in a while.

But neither of them changed. In fact they got worse. They didn't communicate with eachother about their relationship (which, I understand), and then the show ended on a cliffhanger after Aziraphale seemingly completely reverts back to when he first met Crowley. Maybe I'm not understanding something, but it just didn't feel right. I'm not Neil Gaiman at all but it wasn't in Aziraphale's character in my opinion.

That all being said, if you haven't watched it and for some reason you read this anyway knowing there would be spoilers, please go watch it if you have access to it and if you enjoyed the first season. The characters are still so very well written and they feel like real people with real experiences which you don't see often in queer media. It's good representation of real people. I can't wait to see what happens next ♡

[doctors-journal]

11 July

The detective seemed to be a little more himself this morning at least. He even joined me at breakfast for a hasty kiss and a piece of toast.

“I have found us another client,” he declared as he ate, “an American by the name of ‘Garrideb’ who is looking for a long lost relative of his in England. His source is unfortunately outdated, so we have compiled a wide net and we shall see what we find. What do you say, Doctor?”

This came as a surprise to me. I thought he would be preoccupied with his “Moriarty,” but it’s probably for the best that he’s turned to something else.

“Come, Doctor,” he said, “we have not a minute to waste.”

He ushered me out to the bus stop.  I would say that I have crossed the whole city in my time working with the detective, but I am certain that the next time the detective gets it in his mind to go on one of these errands, I will discover whole new places that I didn’t know existed.

 It was a hot day for standing out in the sun waiting for buses and hurrying from door to door. I have spent longer shifts on my feet, but it wore me down hour by hour. It didn’t help that the detective knocked and then stood silently, waiting for me to awkwardly explain our errand to whoever answered.

“We’re looking for someone with the name Garrideb,” I said.

And each time the person answered with varying degrees of annoyance and confusion, “Who? Never heard of them. No, I don’t know anyone with that name.” They all began to blur together.

One woman was especially surprised by the question and to my amazement she answered, “You have the wrong address, George Garrideb lives down the street at number 20.”

I glanced at the detective, but he didn’t say anything, so I thanked the woman and we went to number 20.

Thankfully, the detective finally took the lead to talk to the old man who answered the door. “Hello, I’m Stephen Escott,” he explained in a voice that wasn’t his own. “I’m a plumber, you see. I was just in the neighbourhood and I noticed the age of the pipes going into your house, and I was wondering if you might want a consultation. How old is this house?”

The man seemed taken aback, but he answered, “Oh, must be 80 years.”

The detective nodded and then jumped to the next question. “That’s what I thought, and how long have you lived here?”

“Twenty some, twenty seven maybe, no that can’t be right…”

“I see, I see. And have you had any trouble with the piping?”

“Well, you know, in one of these old houses, it’s a miracle anything works right, but I get by. Say, what’re you selling?”

“Nothing, nothing, I was just wondering if you wanted me to take a look and make sure everything is in ship shape. I was just talking to your neighbour down the way at number 13. His house seems to be in a similar condition. Do you know how long he’s lived there?”

“Hm… Could that be six years, now? Though I don’t see what that has to do with my pipes-”

The detective cut him off. “I see. Any more recent arrivals in the neighbourhood?”

“There’s a young couple who just moved in, but I really don’t need any plumbing work. Good day.”

The man shut the door before the detective could spring another question on him.

That was about all we got out of a long, hot day. I don’t know why we’re looking for Garridebs. We got back to the flat for a late dinner and then I just came up to my room. The detective is probably still in the living room, curled up in his chair with a cigarette and his Sherlock Holmes book.

I haven’t been this tired since I came back to England, and I was hardly even doing anything at all.

[n0resistance]

Puti 

     One time, I was with my old coworker at my old job and we were just talking. He was raised half in Brooklyn and half in Asia. I told him I was half Filipino and by looking at me, I  obviously look Caucasian. He looked at me and said, I wish I had a white dad. I reacted, and said, “excuse me? What does that even mean?

    He said, “you know what I mean a chill not so strict white dad that lets you do whatever you want.” I’ve never really thought about it until that moment. He wasn’t wrong. My dad was chill, not strict, and let me be on my own from a young age. Where I really did need structure. We were all surviving at the time but I lost the disciplined, strict, hard to deal with Asian parent that really cares about taking care of you. 

    A lot of my life I resented him for not being that way. I was home a lone since he worked a lot. He let me stay at my friend’s place for days, I went to college and although most of my life I thought I planted the seed that I was going to be a nurse. That when it didn’t work out, he didn’t yell at me for it. He was totally okay with me following my dreams and my passion, even though I didn’t know what that was. Just as long as I didn’t need him to survive. He helped me out until I turned 21 but after that I couldn’t live at home nor did I see any money, even if I was broke. I mean we agreed, I’d get some help with bills until I got a degree and then that was the moment I became an adult. 

     This Asian kid that wishes he had a white dad, still lived at home. & we don’t really talk but he might still live at home, and the money he makes is for something else. Maybe to one day own property, a business, or go to school. Or maybe he just spends it on alcohol and drugs. (I don’t think so, he’s respectful and smart, but he could). Or maybe he sends money home to Asia. But he is taken care of to an extent. He will probably never worry about paying rent on time or ever as long as he’s there. But he has to clean the house, maybe has a curfew, and has to obey his parents. Like they may have to approve of his girlfriend, or maybe what he chooses to study, maybe he has to help out family. 

    The one thing I could say is without that push of being kicked out. Would I be as self sufficient as I am today? Like if my mom never passed away. She was really there for us and I feel she would still she support me. Taking care was her nature and she did it well. Would I be a nurse? Even though seeing blood makes me want to vomit? Would I be an obedient kid. My mom hated winter and wanted to live in Florida or go back to the Philippines. Would I finish high school in the Philippines? Or Florida?

    A lot was cut off from my life when she died, it was too sad. Filipino parties, our family friends, and I remember feeling she was gone. No more parties, or Christmas, or home cooked Filipino food. 

    Maybe I’d just lose that identity, if it weren’t for my siblings, it really may would have dissipated. That if my family was small, I would remember it solely if I met another Filipino person, and that would always make me sad. Our family is tight knit but that’s only half of me. In Filipino culture, we always think of family. Money there is different, you can make it if you have your own business or come from a wealthy family. 

    However, people don’t work like we do here. We put work over everything here. They have a strong sense of community. Stressing and living paycheck to paycheck  is non existent, I assume. Over there you live with your family. & Family values is the big thing I appreciate about being Filipino. 

     If you ever watched the movie “Fools Rush In” with Mathew Perry (rip )and Selma Hayek. About two people who don’t know each other and are having a baby together. She’s Mexican And he’s Caucasian. She says “family to you is getting through a holiday once a year”. Some families that is their culture. We work a lot, we’re tired, wana get drunk with our friends and keep it light.

    Some families have a party every weekend with good food and good times. They fight but live together. They are codependent. And there is a balance between my polar opposite sides. 

     My balance for myself has been New York. The place where it’s easy to have your own identity. Hop jobs, and groups of people, you never have to have the same meal twice in this city. Sometimes you can even forget your old identity. Maybe for a second. 

    Now I just wana hone everything. Hone the artist identity, the entrepreneur, hustler, socialite, friend, the filmmaker, the concierge. Because really the things I love to do I really love to do. I’m thankful for the opportunity to make that consistent in my life. That has actually been valuable to me. I also will always know even though I have my boyfriend and a few good friends where I know I could stay on their couch. 

    However I know….That if I ever mess up. Not make enough money to pay my bills or lose a job or jobs. Or am stuck financially. From taxes, stocks, or anything like that. Nobody will save me. And weirdly enough that is a comforting place to be. 

    Because if nobody saves you, the less likely you are to mess up. You have to rely on you. It makes me an overall reliable human. I designed my entire life from scratch, so if things don’t work out, I really don’t have anyone else to blame. 

    It makes me think when I have kids. When would I stop taking care of them. Is it right after highschool, or college, is there a limit. Is there a way to communicate that they have to be on their own. It seems difficult but transparency is probably the best way. The way to do it, I don’t know if there’s ever a safe way but either way it must be done at some point. 

    I also think, if my mom, the woman who was so good at taking care of me was still around. I would’ve given her a big hug and leave her when the time was right. Only to come back to let her know what I was accomplishing and to let her know I am fine. Right now I just get to tell my dad, things are really hard but I’m getting through it, and he will always say “that is great”, like the chill dad he is.

[bellesowl]

kiss and make up

- multiple characters 

⤷ atsumu, sakusa

genre: (an attempt at) angst to fluff ; established relationship, timeskip 

synopsis: in which you have an almost relationship-ending argument

word count: 2.1k total - about 1k each

warnings: fighting (obv), being called a burden, the boys are kinda mean but they make up for it i swear

- a/n: tbh i was kinda getting sick of writing just fluff so i wanted to spice it up a lil! if this sucks i’m probably going to stick to fluff fics but i think it should be fine? this one also only has 2 characs cause idk how i would be at writing angst LMAO if this does well enough i’ll post the one i have written w kuroo and iwa <3 but i feel like this kinda sucks so oh well

- thank u @kybabi for beta-ing <3

- miya atsumu

you n atsumu have been together since high school which is why you’ve always been inseparable

you went to the same college & moved in together right after, but once he got his job with the jackals, he insisted that you didn’t work and focused on getting your master’s degree

you reluctantly agreed, if only to be able finish & earn your phd soon after

because atsumu is always busy, it’s kinda become commonplace for you to do the chores around the house- like doing the laundry or washing the dishes or cooking dinner for him

but it’s gotten to the point where he expects it

atsumu sighs, unlocking the door to your shared apartment. today’s practice was rough, it was a day of hard conditioning and bad sets and he wanted nothing more than a good meal and to cuddle. the first thing he noticed when he walked in was the mess. instant ramen bowls were scattered everywhere, empty coke cans and dirty napkins were all over the floor, and there you were, in the eye of the hurricane. the second thing he noticed was that there was no homecooked meal.

surprised, he walks into the dining room to see you, furiously typing away at your laptop with four different books surrounding you. you hear his footsteps and look up.

“hey baby! how was practice?” you ask with a smile

atsumu grunts in reply and gestures toward the kitchen, “so.. what’s for dinner babe?”

your eyes widen, “oh shoot! i’m sorry, i was so busy studying for this final that i forgot to cook. do you mind-“ you stop when you see him roll his eyes and head out.

“um, where are you going? you just got home?” you ask, following him.

“out. i have to get food somehow” he replies, “especially because my useless s/o can’t cook a goddamn meal for me” he mutters under his breath

you stop in shock because did he really just say that?

“i’m sorry, i don’t think i heard you right.” you start but he interrupts you

“i said, i have to go get food because someone is too busy to cook a goddamn meal. what do you even do anyways- well, besides spend my money? the least you can do is cook for me, god.” he finally turns to look at you but he feels his heart stop at the look on your face.

not wanting to escalate the situation any further, you try to calm him down, “tsum, hey, i’m sorry i forgot to cook okay? this is my last final before the year ends and i just can’t afford to fail it, so i’ve been studying all day. if you come back to the kitchen, i’ll make you something, okay?”

“i don’t want to eat your half assed attempt at a meal, y/n. the whole point is that you couldn’t get off your ass for an hour to cook when i make the money, i paid for the apartment, hell, i’m even paying for your school! is it really too much to ask for you to stop being such a burden and cook and clean everyday?” he fumed.

you gape at him, shocked that he would even say that. to hell with not escalating things

“at least i want to do something more with my life than hit balls around and retire at 35” you hiss, “and i do everything in this house! i do the laundry, i clean the bathroom, i cook - i do all the things you refuse to. and do i complain? no. i offered to get a job but you refused.”

you turn around to grab your laptop and your textbooks, “just- just do whatever the hell you want to, atsumu.” and with that you walk out the door.

atsumu’s heart drops when he realizes that you actually left. sure, you’ve had arguments here and there, but you’ve never left. he pulls out his phone to call you when he sees you’ve left yours on the counter. knowing there’s nothing to do but wait at this point, he begins to clean up and calls osamu over.

-

it’s already 3 am when you walk back into your apartment, and you blink multiple times when you open the door. it’s ... clean? you’re sure it was a mess when you left, so how would it be clean? you sigh, too tired to think about it more and walk into the kitchen. your eyes widen at the sight. not only is your favorite food on the stove, but there your boyfriend is, asleep on the dining table. you smile slightly, well that explains things.

“ ‘’mu, hey, wake up babe.” you kiss him lightly and shake him.

he grunts and sits up, “baby! i’m so so sorry for what i said. you are in no way, shape, or form a burden, i have no clue why i said that. today’s practice was just really tiring, but i know i shouldn’t have taken it out on you. just please-” he sighs, “just please don’t leave me again.”

your heart breaks your teary eyed boyfriend. “shh, of course baby. i’ll never leave you again okay?” you say, tugging on his arm, “cmon babe, let’s go to bed, okay?”

“mm okay my love.” he replies and practically pulls you into bed. “i love you, okay?”

“i love you too baby.” you reply

“to the moon and back?” he asks

“yeah, and to infinity and beyond.” you reply, your lack of sleep hitting you hard

“oh, i didn’t know i was dating buzz lightyear”

you let out a loud laugh and just like that you both fall into the same routine, love radiating off both of you in waves.

- sakusa kiyoomi

dating sakusa was,, challenging

it definitely took him a while to get comfortable with you

so you guys have been dating for a couple years now, and at this point he’s def clingy

however there still moments when he reverts to his old self

this just happened to be one of those times

“OUT! AND JUST LIKE THAT, EJP RAIJIN TAKES THE WIN AGAINST THE BLACK JACKALS!”

the stadium is silent before the ejp cheering section erupts in cheers. you stay silent, watching your team below. you watch as sakusa stills, still in disbelief. you make your way down, practically sprinting to your boyfriend.

he sees you on the sideline and makes his way over to you. you put on your biggest smile and attempt to make him feel better.

“you did great, kiyo! you’ll get them next time, yeah?” you beam, knowing how hard he’s been training to beat his cousin

he eyes you warily, not knowing what to say.

usually, sakusa gets pretty clingy after games, so you you move to give him a hug.

“don’t touch me” he barked, jerking away from you. “if you hadn’t been distracting me, we would’ve won.”

you stare at him, refusing to let the tears flow. you both turn when you hear a certain setter yelling at the opposing middle and you sigh.

“um, okay then. i’ll see you at home, yeah?” you ask

sakusa merely nods and makes his way over to his teammates. you look around to see if anyone saw what just happened and you lock eyes with your boyfriend’s cousin, who walks over.

“congrats on the win komori! you guys did so well!” you cheered

“thanks, y/n! and i’m sorry about kiyoomi. i’m sure you know he gets that way sometimes.” he explains

you smile and shake your head, saying that you’re used to it and you both bid your farewells. as you walk out of the stadium, you think back to how your boyfriend, the one person you loved with everything you had in you, utterly embarrassed you in front of his whole team. before you know it, silent tears start streaming down your face. 

you enter your home and immediately rush to the bathroom. you draw yourself a bath and make some dinner while waiting. you assume that kiyoomi wouldn’t be home to have dinner with you anyways- and now that you think about it, you can’t remember the last time you had dinner together. after you finish your bath and eat your dinner, you decide to wait up for boyfriend and watch a couple episodes of your favorite show to pass the time. 

-

kiyoomi walks into his apartment at around 1 am, completely and utterly exhausted. he kicks his shoes off and drops his bag on the floor. The rustling rouses you from sleep and you sit up.

“hey kiyo” you say with a yawn, “where’ve you been all night?” 

sakusa ignores you in favor of getting ready for bed and you frown when he brushes past you. 

“kiyo, babe, what’s wrong? you’ve been ignoring me all night and i-” you start but he interrupts you before you can finish. 

“god, just shut up, y/n. can’t you tell i don’t want to talk to you right now? i’ve already had the worst day, i don’t need you making it any worse.” he snaps

"kiyoomi, look, i understand you’re upset but you shouldn’t take it out on me.” you reason, reaching out towards him, “listen, i’m here if you wanna-” 

“i said, do not touch me.” he seethes. “you are so fucking clingy y/n, lord, let me breathe a little.”

with those words, you explode. “you know what, sakusa,” he flinches when he hears his last name come out of your mouth, “i think i have the right to want to spend some time with my boyfriend! i haven’t seen you in god knows how long- you leave before i wake up and i fall asleep in an empty bed. i’ve been working my ass off to get some time off to watch your stupid volleyball game and what do you do? you embarrass me in front of your whole team!”

you sigh, wiping away the tears that continue that continue to fall. “listen, i don’t want to fight right now. i’m going to go stay at a friend’s house for the night, alright? i’ll see you tomorrow” you say, grabbing your purse. “if you’re even home tomorrow,” you add under your breath.

sakusa is in shock. the moment he saw your tears start to spill, he felt an undeniable and unrelenting ache in his chest that only seemed to grow with every work that came out of your mouth. and when the door shut? sakusa fell on his knees, his heart dropping. he truly couldn’t believe he said that to you. now all he had to do was wait till you got home.

-

2:38 pm - you check the time on your phone before pulling out your keys. you hope you made the right move, choosing to come back home while kiyoomi was still at practice. you open the door and the sight causes your eyes to widen.

there, on the couch with your favorite flowers in hand, is your boyfriend. he hears the door open and stands up abruptly.

“y/n, my love, i am so sorry. i truly cannot express how horrible i feel, and i cannot begin to understand how you feel.” he takes a deep breath, seemingly holding back tears. “i- i do love you. i love you more than i’ve ever loved anyone in my entire life. i know i’m not the best at expressing it, but you mean the world to me- no, you are my world. without you, i don’t know what i would do. so please-” his voice cracks, “just, please give me another chance?”

you run towards your boyfriend, practically tackling him. “kiyo, baby, of course. i love you too, you know? you just can’t do that anymore, yeah? you shouldn’t feel like you have the right to embarrass me just because you had a bad day. and please, don’t call me clingy? i know i do stick to you like glue sometimes, but that’s just because i never see you anymore.” you reply.

“that will all change, darling.” he answers sincerely, “i’ll make more time for you, i swear. in fact, i’ll take the week off, how does that sound?” at the sight of your smile, he relaxes.

“that sounds wonderful, yoomi.” you answer

sakusa feels the weight that’s been dragging him down lift and he realizes the effect you have on him- you’re his breath of fresh air. he also realizes how utterly idiotic it was to push away the one person who could make him feel better.

it’s fine, he reasons, he’ll just never make that mistake again. he swears it.

[hesokuri-wars]

Are you guys alright? Like, personally? I'm worried about you :[

✨I can only speak for myself, but I’m alright! Sorry to have just vanished without a word. I honestly didn’t intend to and always hoped I’d get back into the swing of this

Last year I started a new job that is really physically and sometimes emotionally exhausting. I’m very happy there!! But I also have 2 part time jobs on top of that, so I’m just a wee bit burnt out and tired lmao

I've been Chronically Offline for a while, not just here; working 5-7 days a week without weekends or holidays means my free time is quite limited. And yeah, that free time has not included Heso at all, so I really can’t answer any questions about the game from the last year even when I am rarely around :/

So like... when will I come back? Will I come back? Big shrug. I do love the game and this community, I just don’t have the energy for it like I used to. So don't get your hopes up, I guess. Sorry

(And yes, I literally can't figure out how to format my mod icon into this post ✌😎✨)

💙Mod Kara

(Actually, it's great that you don't have a mod icon, because I can't be bothered myself to recover my own batch of icons for this post. This is good.)

Heeey, anon. It's super sweet of you to have sent in this ask, so I thank you for your concern. To answer your question, I'm doing fine, too. Like Mod Kara, I've got a job as well, but unlike her, I'm as online as ever, so what's my excuse?

Well, I haven't exactly touched anything Heso-related in... since the last time I posted actual Heso news, whenever that was. At one point, I sort of just stopped opening up the game and mostly left things up to Mod Kara. Truth be told, it's been a long time since I've actively been interested in Heso for a variety of reasons, ranging from my issues with the game itself, my current dedication to other interests, and the admittedly less-than-ideal way that I perceive this blog that I've owned for the past 5 years.

I'm aware that my explanation isn't as... justified as Mod Kara's. She's not active because she genuinely has too much on her plate at the moment, while I'm not active for reasons that can essentially be boiled down to I Don't Want To. Because of that, I do feel some degree of guilt for not being around for people who follow this blog, so I'm not going to bother defending myself. All I can really say without going full-blown TMI is that there are a handful of different factors that contribute to my lack of motivation, and I simply can't take responsibility for a long-term help blog when I'm like this.

Does that mean I'm quitting, or does that mean I'll be back one day? I'll just repeat what Mod Kara said above: Big shrug. I've learned a long time ago that I'm wildly inconsistent, so I'd feel like I'm lying if I committed to one particular resolution right now. And thus... I guess you could say this is a really belated hiatus announcement?

(inb4 anyone asks if we can just get new mods on board: that would be the obvious solution, but those things have only led to mods being cyberstalked. out of the question.)

~Mod Ichi (I’m sorry if I’m late!) As for me... it’s really been a mixture of things! I’ve made a lot of big steps in my life and I’ve gotten a lot more busy at work now that I’ve taken on more roles. I also recently got married so that’s awesome! (Planning the reception party has been so stressful aaa...) My wife and I are also looking to move into a new place soon, so that has also been taxing.

But to be honest, it’s also because on my end, like Mod Ichi, I’ve also been interested in other things. Between work, my social obligations and my other hobbies, my attention has been pulled in a million different directions. I feel really bad and I’m sorry to all of the folks who still follow the blog and look for news / updates.

But all the same, thank you always to everyone for all of your support. It means a great deal and it’s very sweet of you to check on us. ~ 💚 Mod Choro

[parkersroses]

sunflowers. | harry styles.

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader (dad!harry, husband!harry)

summary: harry is very much in love with his little family.

word count: 2724 words

warning(s): a sprinkle of sexual mentions and a whole lot of fluff

disclaimer: gif is not mine. 

author’s note: hey there. been a while. i missed writing here and the reason i haven’t been doing that is because i was focused on finishing school. of course now, i still am busy with school, having to start my degree. but i miss writing so i thought i’d make this little piece here. it’s my first harry styles fic! quite exciting and nerve-wrecking for me. but as always, leave a like and a comment if you enjoyed this, also constructive comments do help me to improve my writing and i do want to be better at it. and reblog (!) it really helps writers out in creating content for you so pls do so if you like it. all the love x

She pushes her cart down the aisle as she browses through the shelves of delicious snacks. She already has picked out a bunch of biscuits and juice boxes when her phone rings, making her jump a bit. She takes out her phone and smiles as the screen showcases the contact name ‘lovie’ with a picture of her husband. She accepts the call as she continues to stroll down the aisle. 

“Hi, lovie!” she answers happily. “Hello, darling. Hope everything’s alright there,” Harry answers back. She giggles as she stops by the fruits and vegetables section. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that since you’re the one that’s looking after the house?” She questions about Harry’s intention of calling her. He chuckles through the phone. “Pfft, don’t be silly, love. I got everything under control here,” He says. She imagines how he is probably pouting a bit on the other side of the phone as she playfully rolls her eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, hun. Now, what do you need?” She asks, figuring that Harry has some last minute additions to the grocery. Harry hums and thinks as Y/N picks out some fresh salads. “Could maybe buy more bread for us?” He asks, which confuses Y/N as she thought she has already bought bread for them.

“Harry, didn’t I already buy those, like, two those days ago?” She questions as she starts picking out some fruits. She picks out two packets of strawberries and grapes each and one honeydew melon. She feels as though Harry is hesitating to answer back through the phone. “Yeah, but.. I got hungry so I finished most of them,” He says as though he is embarrassed by admitting this to his wife. Y/N only giggles at this information. 

“You and your bread. Any kind that you fancy this time?” She asks as she makes her way to the wet area of the supermarket. “Just the usual ones. Oh, and the whole wheat bread if there’s any,” He requests. Y/N hears the sound of cutleries clanking in the background, though she brushes it off, thinking it is just Harry cleaning the kitchen. “Alright. I’ll see you guys at home, yeah? I’m nearly done here,”

“Of course, darling. Bubs and I will be waiting,” he says, and Y/N smiles at the thought of her little family at home. The couple say their goodbyes and hang up. Y/N makes a note to herself to get some bread after picking out some salmon before checking herself out of the supermarket. 

After over a year of marriage, the both of them decided to start a family of their own. It excited her to think about Harry with their own child, knowing very well how good he is with children in general. They were both overjoyed by the news that they will be expecting a baby girl, more so of Harry than herself. He was ecstatic to be a father throughout the pregnancy journey. Even on the occasional dates they would go on, he would always make sure they picked some of the most private areas, paparazzi and fans-free. It was an important time for them and they wanted to keep things on the low most times. 

Now, their baby girl Rosie is six months old and is just the purest ball of sunshine and happiness. Harry and Y/N swore that their hearts grew ten times bigger upon first laying their eyes on her baby. Of course after she was born, it was tiring enough for them to handle a baby as they were new to being parents. Though, they managed to get the hang of it after some sleepless nights and cleaning up baby vomit. 

All of that which leads up to this moment where Y/N is buying some groceries for the family. Harry suggested they should take little Rosie out for a picnic. Although it was rather difficult to go outside without them getting papped and stalked, they luckily had a backyard that was big enough to have their little picnic together. It was all fenced up with a couple of flowers planted. It was ideally the perfect place to relax and have some family gatherings. 

Y/N quickly gets home in time for dinner, not before buying some Chinese food for her and Harry. She unlocks the door and quickly rushes by the living room and into the kitchen to put the heavy bags of groceries down. Harry, who had been folding the laundry and entertaining his daughter, notices his wife and calls out to her. “Hi, honey!” Baby Rosie, who has been laying on a plush little blanket, perks her head up and excitedly babbles after her father’s voice. “Hey, lovie! Give me a minute to put these away!” Y/N yells back at him.

Harry hums and puts away the last of the clean laundry in a basket before laying on his side next to Rosie. He lets his baby grab a hold of his large hand. He watches as Rosie puts his tiny little hand on the center of his palms, smiling widely as she looks at him and babbles about in baby language. It’s not long until Y/N comes in with a bag of Chinese food and some baby food. “C’mon, let’s eat, my loves,” She gently says as she sets the food down on the coffee table. Rosie holds out her arms to her mother; much to her delight, Y/N carries her up and sets her down on her lap. 

Y/N multitasks eating her dinner and feeding Rosie throughout dinner time. The faint sounds of a Fleetwood Mac album playing on the vinyl player filling the background. “So, what’s on the menu for tomorrow’s picnic?” He says as takes a bite off his spring roll. Y/N shrugs and wipes the excess baby food off Rosie’s mouth. “Don’t know yet. Maybe I’ll make those smoked salmon sandwiches that you like.”  

Harry playfully moans in delight. “You mean, those sandwiches you make are award-winning, darling,” he says, which makes Y/N giggles at her silly husband. “Well, I hope they are, Mr. Styles. Would be shameful if the salmon I bought just went to waste.” Little Rosie eventually finishes her food and decides to play around with her mother’s hair. She stares and strokes on Y/N’s hair, gently tucking it at times. The couple smiles widely at the sight of their daughter. “You doing alright, bubs?” Rosie merely stares at her parents with her big green eyes, not understanding their question. It still amazes Y/N how much of Harry’s features Rosie inherited. “Surely you weren’t a handful with your daddy this evening, were you?” Y/N playfully questions. 

Harry chuckles and takes Rosie out of Y/N’s arms. “No, she wasn’t. However, she wasn’t helpful in helping daddy with the laundry, were you princess?” He says as he lifts his baby girl above both of the couple’s heads, eliciting the sweetest laugh from Rosie. He does this a few more times until he stops since he didn’t want her to get dizzy and throw up. 

It was a very domestic moment for them. Just the three of them, having dinner, smiles and laughter all around. It is moments like this where Harry prefers the simplicity of life, in the comfort of his little family. “Think it’s time for someone to go to dreamland, don’t ya think?” Y/N says as she caresses Rosie’s soft cheeks with her finger, Rosie obviously showing her tiredness with her droopy eyes. Harry nods in agreement, already packing up to empty food boxes to throw away. 

“You wanna go up first, love? Nurse Rosie a bit. I’ll clean this up quickly.” Y/N insists on helping out Harry after he’s taken care of the house while she went to buy groceries. Though, Harry insists back on helping to clean, saying it’s no big deal. Without much of an argument, Y/N lifts up Rosie from his arms and heads up, not before giving Harry a loving kiss of appreciation. 

After nursing her, Rosie quickly falls asleep in her mother’s arms, lulling to the faint sounds of her heartbeat as she rests her little head on her chest. Harry soon joins in the room and he stops to admire the sight he has become all too familiar with. Just the sight of the woman he loves, carrying and rocking their baby daughter to sleep, a feeling of warmth and peace fills his entire heart. Sometimes, he can’t believe how lucky he was to have ended up in this position and he always thanks the universe for blessing him a family that he loves with his entire soul. 

Rosie gets tucked in her cot, a soft purple blanket covering her. Harry and Y/N go back into their room soon after. Harry lays on his bed with his eyes closed, humming a random tune while Y/N picks out her nightwear, which turns out to only be one of Harry’s T-shirts and underwear. “Can you believe she’s six months old now?” Harry asks out of the blue. Y/N turns around and stands between his legs. He sits up and gently pulls Y/N in by the waist. She runs her hands through his curls, he sighs in delight of the feeling. “Time flies, huh?” 

“Soon she’s gonna start walkin’, runnin’, she’ll become quite the troublemaker,” he jokes and pouts at Y/N. She chuckles at his silliness. “It’s nothing we can’t handle, right?” She smiles at him lovingly as she strokes his cheeks. Harry smiles back and puts his head on her stomach, giving it a light kiss through the dress she’s wearing. 

“Thank you. I feel like I haven’t said that enough,” he mumbles against her stomach. She looks down at him with a confused expression. “You carried her for a whole nine months and went through so much to deliver her to us. So, thank you. And I love you, darling. I’m so lucky.”

Y/N feels her breath hitched at his confession and she smiles at him. She leans down and kisses him hard. Sometimes, she thinks that she is the lucky one. She managed to find someone who loves and support her unconditionally, even through the late night snacks she had while pregnant with little Rosie. Harry doesn’t hesitate to kiss back and pulls her closer to him. She feels his tongue swipe across her bottom lip, asking for entrance. And who is she to deny making out with her incredibly talented and beautiful husband as she opens her mouth, making the kiss more passionate. Harry hears a soft moan from her and swears he feels shivers running up his spine.

They break away after feeling the oxygen running out of their lungs and lay their foreheads against each other’s, breathing heavily. “I love you, too,” she breathes out. They both smile widely at each other, feeling like teenagers in love. She pecks his lips one last time before pulling away from him. She starts undressing as she makes her way to the ensuite bathroom, Harry watching her every move as his mouth gapes open slightly. 

God, my wife is so fucking beautiful, he thinks to himself. He continues to admire Y/N as she undresses until she’s fully nude. He gulps as he feels the blood rushing towards his lower region.

Harry’s cut out from his thoughts as a piece of fabric flungs to his face. He grabs it from his face and he chokes on his saliva upon seeing Y/N laced lavender-coloured underwear. He looks up to his wife leaning against the bathroom door, every inch of her on display for him and him only.

“Mind joining me for a shower, baby?” she smirks as she quickly heads in the shower. 

When he hears the shower turn on, Harry jumps up from the bed and quickly takes off his clothes, tripping on his sweatpants on his way to join his wife in the shower.

━

Rosie giggles loudly and she reaches out for the blue butterfly in front of her. Y/N smiles at this soft moment and holds up her digital camera to take a picture. The sky was a nice shade of blue and clouds looked like cotton candy hanging above. The flowers in the garden were blooming and Harry managed to pick out two sunflowers for his sunflowers. It seemed like the perfect day.

Harry comes out with a bowl of freshly washed strawberries and grapes. He sits down next Y/N on the blanket they laid out, giving a soft kiss on her forehead, before looking over at his daughter. “What’s that, bub?” he asks Rosie in a seemingly excited voice. Rosie squeals and babbles to her father as she points out to the blue butterfly fluttering in front of her. 

“That’s right, bubs! That's a butterfly!” Harry picks her up and puts her on his lap. Y/N is already munching away on the strawberries. Harry opens his mouth to her, implying that he wants to be fed with the red fruits, Y/N rolls her eyes at his silliness but complies as she puts it in his mouth, plucking out the stem. As she does this, little Rosie looks at the exchange and opens her mouth wide, copying Harry. The couple merely laughed at the little girl’s behaviour. 

“You want a strawberry, Rosie?” Y/N smiles as picks one out, she bites lightly on the tip of it so Rosie could have the smallest bite of the fruit. Rosie whines and reaches out for the tiny piece. “Calm down, you bugger. Might wanna say ‘please’ to mommy first, yea?” Harry says to her gently as he rubs her back.

Of course, Rosie wouldn’t know how to say any words at all yet, so she babbles in her baby language and whines to be fed. “Think that might be ‘please’, love,” he says jokingly to his Y/N. 

“Well, who am I to say no to the cutest girl ever?” She jokes back and puts the tiny piece of strawberry in Rosie’s mouth, her mouth slightly stained from the juices. Harry wipes it off with a napkin and leans back on his arms, admiring the beautiful day outside. He takes in the clean summer air as he listens to his daughter babbling about to her mother, Y/N merely nods back as if she understands and talks in the most gentle voice to her. 

Harry sees Rosie picking up the large sunflower he picked out, her little fingers brushing against the yellow petals. He takes a look at Y/N and as he sees her smile, he thinks back about how lucky he is to have them two. There is not a day where Harry was never in awe of the love and passion Y/N gives to the family and he thinks of how he couldn’t possibly love his Rosie more every day. 

He breaks off the other sunflower from its stem and tucks it behind Y/N’s ear. She looks up and blushes at the gesture.  “You okay, H?” she asks. 

Harry nods and smiles at her. “I just really love you,” he says as he cups Y/N’s cheek, stroking it gently. 

Y/N feels the heat rising up to her cheeks. There is not a day where she’ll ever stop being in love with the man in front of her. She holds the hand that’s resting on her cheek and kisses it softly. “I really love you too,”

She leans forward and gives him a kiss or two. They both smile widely at each other, radiating the same amount of love, if not more, that they have for each other. Rosie squeals and claps her chubby hands together as she watches the sweet exchange between her parents. They both laugh at her cuteness. “And we love you too, my little love!” Y/N exclaims to her as she cups her cheeks and plants many kisses all over her face, making Rosie squeal in delight. Harry laughs and smiles at the sight. 

Life certainly feels good to him. Surrounded by the loves of his life, there’s no place or moment Harry would exchange this beautiful day with them. 

[volleychumps]

« Ghost.

~ the one in which Sakusa Kiyoomi sees you happy after he broke your heart.

format: One-shot

genre: angst

- Sakusa Kiyoomi x Reader

Warning(s): Use of alcohol, set in after-high school 

One of my older requests I’ve kept, this fic is influenced by the song ‘Ghosts’ by Jeremy Zucker. Although it’s not a song fic, very sad content is ahead. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I told you to wear your gloves.” 

“Whaaat? Why would I do that when your pockets are so warm?” 

“How convenient for you.” 

“Here, put your hands in here with me. Live a little, take your gloves off! It’s so warm~”

Sakusa swallowed. Dark eyes stared blankly through the glass out into the deluge of rain, a slightly damp travel bag seated on the plastic seat next to him, a gentle prod of his fingers making him snap out of it. Komori sends him a worried stare, noting that his cousin seemed to have changed a lot from his travel abroad. 

The slight glimmer in Sakusa’s eyes before he left was just as dimmed the day he boarded that plane. 

“Does anyone else know you’re back in Japan?” 

“Who would I tell?” Sakusa shrugged as his cousin met him with a incredulous stare. “The team is expecting my return-” 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

Sakusa stiffens, clearing his throat before sipping the warm beverage before him. He didn’t taste anything, eyes flitting over to the half-drunken matcha in his cousin’s cup. That reminds him of- 

“You didn’t tell Y/N?” 

There it is. 

Silence filled the distance between the two before Sakusa’s dark coffee hits the table with a prominent thud. 

“It’s not like she would want to see me.” 

“She could never hate you, you know. Especially after-” 

“Komori.” Sakusa’s stare hardened, fingers clasping at ceramic. Komori’s lips press back together in a thin line, opting to swirl the matcha tea in his cup before bowing his head slightly in apology. 

“I told you that you wouldn’t like it.” 

“Blegh! How do you drink it so strong?” 

“...swap with me.” 

“Don’t tell me you ordered a matcha because you knew I wouldn’t like it.” 

“Ha. Don’t get ahead of yourself.” 

“Awh, Kiyoomi-Kun!” 

“Gross.” 

The rain was less now, the two figures in the rain under the abandoned shop seeming to dissapitate with the downpour. It was him, holding a girl’s hands in his pockets as he stubbornly adjusts the hat on her head. Two half-drunken drinks that had been swapped sat next to them- 

“Let’s get going, yeah?” Komori stands, having finished his tea as Sakusa rips his gaze away from the familiar scene. 

“You seem tired from all the traveling. Didn’t you get any sleep on the plane?” 

He hasn’t slept well in a long while. 

“I did.” He finishes the americano in one go, ignoring the burn in his throat as he longs for the taste of alcohol. “Lead the way.” 

Sakusa casts one more glance through the glass window. The two figures were nowhere to be seen. 

----------------------------------------------------

His thumb grazed his phone screen over your contact. Backspace. Hello-. Backspace. Delete. Hover over delete option. Back to messages. I’m back in-.

Sakusa sighs through his nose, a futile attempt to release the tightness in his chest, before turning on his side as the sun peeks in through his window. Five hours at most, a lot better than his usual nights. 

Perhaps it was because he knew you were a mere cardrive away. 

“Why are you here?” 

“...it was on the way.” 

“So...what can I do for you?” 

Silence. 

“Unless....no way, did you miss me?” 

“No.” 

“You answered too fast, meaning you’re lying.”

“So what if I did?” 

“Come here Kiyoomi, spend the night.” 

He throws his phone. 

--------------------------------------------------------

“You hurt her, you know that?” 

“Is she...doing okay?” 

Sugawara sighs heavily, running a hand through his gray locks across from the stoic boy. Sakusa was lucky at least one of your friends was willing to give him the time of day, seated across one of your more gentle friends in the university library. 

“...she’s doing fine. She’s holding down a gig at Onigiri Miya while she finishes her degree.” Sugawara stands, guilt filling his hazel eyes before hardening slightly. “But you don’t get to ask about her.” 

“I know.”

“You walked away from her when all she did was give you everything her world had to offer.”  

Sakusa grits his teeth. “I know.” 

“Do you?” Sugawara wasn’t easily irritated, flipping a page in his textbook before meeting your ex with an even stare. “If you knew how hard it was for everyone to pick up the pieces-” 

“Thanks for meeting me.” Sakusa’s chair scraped the floor as he stood abruptly, heart pounding in his ears. He felt Suga’s stare on his back as he exited the library, stopping at the exit as his breathing picks up. 

“Am I even allowed here?” 

“It’s fine. Relax! You look like a Uni student.”

“...Y/N.” 

“Hm?”

“I-” 

“Sakusa?” 

It had been a whole year since he heard that voice, not haunting his dreams, but in reality. Dark eyes widen a fraction as his breath catches in his throat at the smile that spreads across your lips. You had gotten more beautiful than the image his mind spun back and forth, rooting him in place.

“You’re back?” 

“...Mm.” 

“That’s great! Tell the team I’m looking forward to your welcome home party tonight. It was great seeing you.” 

Sakusa’s lips parted, but no words came out. He was taken back abruptly as your shoulder brushed his as you walked past

“Don’t be a burden.” 

“K-Kiyoomi, how could you-?” 

“I don’t need to leave something annoying behind me when I leave to train.”

“Something? Kiyoomi, it’s me. It’s us-” 

“Don’t wait for me.” 

“I will! You just need to say the word, and-” 

“Are you usually this pathetic? We were never in love, Y/N. You were just convenient.” 

“You’re lying-!” 

“Good luck, Y/N. I don’t know when or if I’ll be back. Don’t look for me.”

He needed to let you go, no matter what lies stain his tongue. He needed you to be okay without him, not looking out the window everyday in hopes that promises over text and call were enough. 

And that was the day he brushed past you, a stream of even tears falling from your widened eyes as your heart shattered in your chest- 

not realizing that the sight of Sakusa’s back shielded the view of the single trickling tear down his cheek. 

But still, he kept walking. 

“Y/N.” 

Dark eyes widen when you flinch on instinct, Sakusa’s hand hovering in mid-air over your arm before your smile is back. His chest tightens as he realizes that it’s merely polite, not holding the same love it once did. 

You tilted your head, and Sakusa could feel his fingers tremble at the shine in your eyes. 

“I gotta go, Sakusa. Suga’s waiting. It was great to see you though, you look good.”

It was his turn to watch your back as unshed heat brimmed his eyes, but you don’t look back to notice. 

...Sakusa?

-------------------------------------------

“I need to go for a walk.” 

“What? Dude, this is your party.” Atsumu blinks in disbelief as Bokuto and Hinata chow down on plate after plate of onigiri. His friends bustle around the shop, but you were no where to be seen. 

“Five minutes, you imbecile. I won’t run away.”

“You better not!” Atsumu slurs, on the edge of absolutely hammered as he flashes Sakusa a wide thumbs-up. “You’ll make our guests sad!” 

Out of everyone in this party, he wanted to see you the most.

Sakusa manages to make it out the back door, planning to watch for your arrival until he sees your figure seated not far away in the grass, cradling a single drink in your hand as your eyes stare up at the clouded stars. Faded, but they were barely there as your eyes seemed to be questioning the world up above. 

It was a lie. 

Sakusa’s nails bit into his palms. 

It wasn’t just convenient for him. 

He swallows back the lump in his throat. 

You were his world. His first and last love. 

He begins to take a step-

Please let him be your last. 

“Whatcha doin’ out here?” 

He stops in place, watching from mere feet away as Osamu Miya plops down in the grass next to you. You jokingly protest as Osamu takes your drink, taking a swig from it before looking at you with something in his eyes. 

No. It wasn’t something new to Sakusa, because that’s the way he used to look at you. 

“...He came back.” Your voice was almost a whimper, and Osamu gently tugs you to lean your head on his shoulder.

“I know.” 

“I’m happy, Osamu.” 

“I didn’t say anythin’.” 

Sakusa should’ve walked away. He should’ve willed his feet to move, but he couldn’t. All his dark eyes could do was watch as you rolled your eyes playfully, tugging the drink out of Osamu’s hands before setting it down and cupping his face with one hand-

Doing that thing where your hand slipped into Osamu’s denim jacket pocket. 

“I love you. He was the past. You are my present. And...my future, hopefully?”

Osamu’s lip twitches upwards as he turns his face so he can kiss your palm that’s cupping his cheek. 

“I know, princess. You’re allowed to be sad, I’m not a monster.” Osamu pauses, thinking for a second before nodding once. “Unless you want me to be a monster, I can beat-” 

He’s cut off as you roll your eyes, smiling as you kiss him so lovingly- 

Ah. This must’ve been how you felt the day he left you in pieces. 

Sakusa wanted to scream, but a warm trickle of wetness slipped down his cheeks instead as it began to rain, the clouded stars turning darker ironically as Sakusa realizes that the shop he’s standing outside of-

the abandoned one where he kept you warm that winter night. 

It was now Onigiri Miya. 

He felt his legs almost give out as he stumbles to the side of the building, shielding him from view as your panicked laughs sound over the rain. 

“Y/N. I...I think I-”

“Kiyoomi?”

“What?” 

“I’ll love you more than you’ll ever know.” 

Sakusa couldn’t tell if the drops on his face was the rain, feeling like he was floating as his skin became numb to the cold.

In fact, he wished that this was one of his dreams, the ones where he punished himself with images of you in his arms. 

That way, he could keep on living with your ghost.

--------------------------------------------------

Brb It’s not like I’m vv sad as I write this. 

General works: @takemetovalhalla @kasandrafaye @savemesteeb @dreebbles   @yams046 @let-me-have-my-own-name @deadontheinsidebut @lifeisntjustblackandwhite @curiouslilbeast @aprettyfruit @wisepandaslimeland @h0ngh0ngh0ng @lmkjimin @orangegiraffe7 @dai-tsukki-desu @kac-chowsballs @spikertrash @yamaguwuchi @lord-suneater-explosion @nekomawhore @holaaaf@babyybokutoakaashi @lexysclubhouse @disneyloving-muggle

[neonlights92]

RUN: Chapter I

Jeon Jungkook hops from bed to bed, sleeping with as many beautiful, rich women as he can possibly find time for.  He’s young and attractive, with a silver tongue that gets him practically anything he wants.  So when his friend and boss, Kim Taehyung, tells him it’s time to settle down, Jungkook takes it pretty badly.  And when he finds out that the woman he’s destined to marry is, in fact, his little sister’s best friend, he is less than impressed.

You have spent your entire life trying to forget the way you feel about Jeon Jungkook.   So when you find out that Jungkook is to be your husband - and that he is anything but pleased about it - your world is thrown into chaos.  How can you survive a loveless marriage with the man you are hopelessly in love with?

WARNINGS: Language, some violence and eventual smut.

A/N: I changed Jungkook’s story slightly from my original story.  Hope you guys like it!!! Enjoy :)

You were in love with Jeon Jungkook. 

You had been in love with him, since the moment you understood what it truly meant to love someone. 

The engagement party was in full swing - people chattered around you happily, congratulating the supposedly happy couple - but all your attention was on him.

You watched him from across the expanse of people wedged between you both.  He leaned against the stone wall, observing, as he always did.  Arms crossed, dark eyes narrowed.  

You knew you probably shouldn’t watch him for long - that if he felt your gaze on him he would add it to the long list of reasons why he’d probably noticed you were in love with him years ago.  But you couldn’t help yourself.  He looked so handsome - so inviting - and you swore at yourself for still holding a candle to someone who didn’t see you as much more than an accomplice to his little sister.

Your best friend Nayeon had been born only a year after Jungkook, but sometimes it felt like he would treat her - and by association you - as a child forever.

“Stop staring,” Nayeon had sidled up beside you, a flute of champagne clutched in her hands, “You’re making it so obvious.”

You rolled your eyes, “You mean twenty three years of following him around like a puppy hasn’t been proof enough?”

She sighed heavily and slipped an arm through your own.  Nayeon had known about your unfortunate feelings for her brother for a long time.  Unfortunate because, really, in what world would your love ever be reciprocated?

Not only had you been relegated to little sister status long ago - but Jungkook was so handsome he could have any woman he wanted. 

It was well known that Jungkook was Bangtan’s resident playboy.  He’d made no effort to settle down in the years since turning a ‘marriage-appropriate’ age, and had done just about the opposite.  Flitting from woman to woman  (and coincidentally bed to bed) with an easy smile and eyes that could warm the hardest of hearts.

Eventually, of course, he would be forced to settle down.  Not only was he an important member of Bangtan - he was in the capo’s inner circle.  Soon Taehyung would choose a wife for him whether he wanted it or not.  Because Jungkook needed to produce heirs - it was what had always been expected of a made man.

“I’ve told you to talk to your father,” Nayeon’s voice was sympathetic, “Our families are such good friends - maybe the two of you could get married.”

You felt your chest pinch at Nayeon’s suggestion.  She was right, she had been telling you this for years.  But you knew that speaking to your father wouldn’t change anything.  Had told her just as much.

“Taehyung will choose his wife Nae, you know this just as well as I do.”

Her eyes softened and you felt yourself grow tired again.  Your feelings for him were exhausting sometimes.

“Talk to Taehyung then.  Your family is well-respected, Y/N.  It wouldn’t be a downgrade.”  

You scoffed, “For Bangtan’s golden boy?  C’mon Nae.  Let’s not start this again.  I’m not in the mood for it.”

Your eyes moved towards Jungkook once more, but they widened slightly when you realised he wasn’t there anymore.  Probably off flirting with some beautiful woman… 

Your heart clenched in jealousy as it always did when you imagined Jungkook with someone else.  

“Looking for me?” 

There it was.  His voice.  

You turned sharply, eyes lifting to connect with his own.  Jungkook’s face was unreadable as he stared down at you - and you wondered for a moment, if he was angry with you.

“What?” The word escaped you, “Uh… No.  No.  Just enjoying the party.”

Nayeon’s arm had slipped out of yours at some point.

His expression was dark and you felt like perhaps he was glaring at you.  Glaring?  Why would he be glaring?  Your chest tightened.

“You couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

The words sounded venomous, almost.  You felt confused.

“What?”

Jungkook quirked a dark brow, “Playing dumb doesn’t suit you, Y/N.”

Nayeon cleared her throat noisily and stepped between the two of you.  You were grateful for her presence.  Jungkook had never spoken to you like that.  Almost as if… He hated you.

It was so much worse than the way he usually treated you - like a little sister he begrudgingly liked.  What had you done to deserve this treatment?

“What is going on, Jungkook?” Nayeon’s voice held a note of warning.

His gaze snapped up to meet hers and he scowled, “This hasn’t got anything to do with you.”

“Like hell it doesn’t,” Nayeon growled back, eyes narrowed harshly, “Y/N is my best friend and you, regrettably, are my brother.”

“Why don’t you ask your best friend, then?” He spat the words out almost viciously, “Ask her why I got called into a meeting with Taehyung, our father and her father, this morning.”

Your heart felt like it was going to fall out of your throat. 

“What?”  Your voice was quiet - little more than a whisper.

Jungkook’s eyes shifted for a moment and he softened - before his face became that impassive mask again.  It was the Jungkook of Bangtan that stood before you.  Not your Jungkook.

Not the Jungkook that used to pull on your hair when it got too long, or the Jungkook that taught you how to swim.  This Jungkook was scary, unpredictable even.

“I suppose I should welcome you to the family,” His voice had lost all of it’s anger - it was just cold now, “Mrs Jeon.”

Your heart stopped.

“I….”

“What are you talking about, Jungkook?” Nayeon interrupted and though you wanted to look at her, your eyes seemed incapable of moving away from Jungkook’s.

He wasn’t glaring at you anymore, thank god, but now his face was just blank - unmoving.  You recognised that look from your own father’s face.  Long ago you’d dubbed it the Bangtan face.  The way coldness seemed to freeze over any warmth.  It frightened you more than any anger could.

“I’m marrying her,” He said, emotionless.  Like a robot, “At the earliest opportunity, apparently.”  His eyes flickered for a moment, and you thought you saw something gentle, in them.  But it was soon replaced by that same, cold indifference.

“Me?” You squeaked, heart thundering in your ears.  

Nayeon was silent.  It was the first time in a long time that something had left her truly speechless, you reckoned.

When Jungkook nodded, once, sharply, your insides twisted.

“I’m sorry,” You felt the tears burning, but you refused to let them fall, “I didn’t… I never asked for this.  I swear, I had no idea.”

The conversation you’d had with Nayeon just moments ago flashed through your mind.  It was so ironic you almost wanted to laugh.

“Your feelings for me have become… Increasingly clear in the last few years.”  Jungkook’s tone wasn’t cruel, but you felt the chill in it, “I suppose your father realised, as did mine.  Taehyung has been wanting to marry me off for years, so he was only happy to accommodate.”

On the last word, you flinched.

Accommodate.  Like you were a burden being handed to him.

“I’m sorry,” You repeated, although you weren’t entirely sure what you were apologising for.  Was it your inability to keep your feelings under check?  Should you really feel sorry for something you couldn’t really control?

“It’s not your fault, Y/N.” Nayeon had seemed to regain some of her sense, “You know how this world works. She didn’t choose this, Jungkook.”

But you could see that he blamed you.

And in some ways you understood.  It was your clear feelings for him that had caused a matrimony that he didn’t want.  Jungkook valued his independence, his freedom.  He’d told Nayeon and yourself time and time again that he would try to delay his getting married as much as he could.  Another twenty years, at least. 

And now he was saddled with you. 

You had taken away that freedom he treasured so dearly, without even meaning to. 

“No I didn’t choose this but I am sorry,” You felt like you might crumble to dust under Jungkook’s stare, “I shouldn’t have made my feelings so clear.”

The words were difficult to say - was it really your fault that you loved him? - but they seemed to do the job.  Jungkook’s shoulders relaxed and his face softened.

“So you didn’t ask for this?”

You shook your head once, rigidly.  

“Then I’m sorry for getting angry,” He said gently, his eyes roving your face carefully.  He was doing that thing he always did - he was trying to read you - the same way he read everyone.

But you were like a book to him, weren’t you?  So open.  So obvious. So easy to read.  He barely needed to try.

Jungkook had never made it as clear as he had right now, that he knew you were in love with him.  You supposed you should be embarrassed - and you were, to a degree.  But some part of you, a much larger part, just felt sorry.

“And I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”  He added, hands moving towards the pockets of the trousers he was wearing, “But in a month’s time, you will be Mrs Jeon Jungkook.” A month? You felt sick - like you might throw up.

This was all you’d ever dreamed of… But you didn’t want it like this.  Forced and angry.  You wanted love and passion and affection.  Things you knew Jungkook didn’t feel for you.

Things you’d always worried he’d never feel for you.

You were content watching him from a distance but now?  Now he was up close and personal, and you could barely meet his eyes.

Without another word, Jungkook slipped away from you, probably off to find some kind of alcohol to drown himself in.  In one month you would be Mrs Jeon Jungkook…

“Oh Y/N.” Nayeon’s voice caught, and suddenly you realised you had started crying.

The man you loved probably hated you now and in a month you would become his wife.  Any hope of Jungkook reciprocating your feelings for him disappeared.

It was all one big, scary mess.

//

You hadn’t spoken to Jungkook since the night he had told you about your upcoming nuptials.  From the little information Nayeon had been able to gather, he wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of having to marry you.

“He’ll come around,” She told you time and time again.  But you could barely bring yourself to believe her.

It had been years of loving him.  Years of watching him from far away and never being able to call him yours.  Why would that change now?

How could it change when he probably despised you for this wedding?

You couldn’t bring yourself to hope for anything more than civility.  Anything else would break your heart.

Everything about the wedding had been decided for you.  Down to even the dress.  You had tried things on, a mannequin for the women of your family and the Jeon family.  Your mother had tried encouraging you to enjoy yourself, as had Nayeon, but nothing seemed to work.

“I’ll be married in a week,” Your stomach twisted, “And Jungkook hasn’t even looked at me since that night.”

“He’s just getting used to the idea Y/N.” Nayeon tried to convince you but it was as futile and pointless as ever.

“He hates me.”

“No he doesn’t. It’s Jungkook.”

You felt your heart pull uncomfortably. It was Jungkook. You wanted so badly for him to be yours - had spent years and months and hours thinking about it. And yet….

That would never happen.

Nayeon was helping you wrap up the wedding favours. Another thing you’d had no part in choosing. Jungkook’s mother had ordered bracelets for the women and cuffs for the men.

“Don’t you have someone else to do this?” Nayeon fiddled with the baby blue crepe paper, “I’m so bad at this.”

“I asked to do this.” You shrugged, “It was the only thing my mother trusted me with. I wanted to feel somewhat useful.”

“I’m sorry Y/N.”

Any hope of magic for your special day had been obliterated the moment Jungkook had confronted you. He would never accept this marriage as anything other than something he’d been forced into.

And he would probably always blame you for it.

“It’s alright,” You cleared your throat of the thick tears threatening to spill, “I never expected to choose anything for my own wedding anyway.”

“Still.  This is meant to be exciting.” You laughed and it caught in your chest, sounding suspiciously like a sob.

“I’m marrying the love of my life and yet… I’m miserable,” You shook your head, “Only Bangtan could be capable of causing something like this.” Nayeon opened her mouth - maybe to tell you that her brother would come around - when a knock at the door stopped her.

“Yes?” You answered quietly, half expecting it to be your mother with yet another ridiculous demand.

The portal opened and revealed your husband to be - Jeon Jungkook - looking decidedly sheepish as his eyes met your own.

Sheepish?  Jungkook?  It couldn’t be.

“Your maid… Jennie.  She let me in.”

You nodded and felt the questioning gaze of Nayeon flicker between both you and Jungkook.  What was he doing here? You were curious, too.

“Could I… Nayeon…Could I talk to Y/N for a minute?  Alone?”

Nayeon curled her top lip, “You’re not going to be an asshole to her again, are you?”

When Jungkook gave her a look that could freeze hell over Nayeon merely shrugged. Though they’d grown up in Bangtan - and though Jungkook was as dangerous as they come - Nayeon and him still shared a relatively normal sibling dynamic.

They were both stubborn of course, with tempers that could rival even the scariest Bangtan member…. But they loved each other.

And they were fiercely loyal. A Jeon trait, you’d come to learn.

“Just five minutes okay? Then you can continue to be a pain in the ass,” Jungkook glared at his sister as Nayeon stood, eyes narrowed.

“I’ll be just next door Y/N. Scream if he pisses you off.”

She patted your hand, face still scowling at her brother.  He flipped her off before she pulled a face, sliding out of the room with a quiet click of the door.  When you were alone with Jungkook, your heart felt like it was going to crawl out of your mouth.

His eyes were almost warm as he turned to you again.

“Y/N I wanted to… Apologise, for my behaviour at the party earlier this month,” He seemed genuinely sorry, “And for…” He trailed off before clearing his throat again, “And for ignoring you, the last few weeks.  This marriage has been difficult for me to process.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

“But I wanted to come here and tell you that… If we’re getting married to one another, then I suppose we should try to get along for the sake of our own sanity.”  He stepped towards you and almost looked like he wanted to touch you, but thought better of it, “But that doesn’t - I don’t…” He paused and you noticed his eyes seemed almost sad, “I know how you feel about me, Y/N.  But I can’t… Promise anything.  I’ll be kind to you like I’ve always been.  And we might grow closer because of this marriage but… That’s all I can offer.” 

You knew what he was saying.

He was happy to be your friend.  Maybe to even warm your bed at night.

But Jungkook would never love you as you loved him.

You nodded, mutely, feeling that if you said a word you might break down in tears.  And you refused to let him see you that way, no matter how much your heart ached.

“I don’t want you to resent me, Y/N.  But I’m not… I’m not a man of commitment.  You understand, don’t you?” You almost laughed in his face.

He wasn’t a man of commitment? Jeon Jungkook spent every day of his life committed to the cause of Bangtan.  He was willing to fight for it.  To die for it.

It wasn’t commitment he didn’t want - it was you.

He didn’t have to lie to try and placate you.  You were a big girl.  Stronger than he took you for.

“You will never love me as I love you.”  You said, voice hollow, “Is that what you’re trying to say Jungkook?”

He winced, “I’m sorry.”

The words hurt you more than if he’d slapped you across the face. He was sorry? 

“Please don’t apologise,” Your chest twinged, “There’s nothing to feel sorry for.” The way he was looking at you made everything a million times worse.  You felt like a glass vase, teetering off the edge, about ready to shatter into a thousand pieces.

After a moment you cleared your throat, “How long?”

He raised a dark brow, “What?” “How long have you known about my… Um… Feelings for you.”

Jungkook shifted, clearly uncomfortable, but you decided you didn’t really care.  If you were going to spend the rest of your life committed to a man that didn’t want you, the least he could do is give you this much.

“Since your sixteenth birthday party.”

The memory seared your heart and your stomach fluttered.  Even thinking of it now, almost ten years later, caused something indescribable to pass through you. 

It had been a summer’s evening - you were born in late August.

Your mother had planned this overly flamboyant affair (she had a flair for the dramatics, clearly) and though you hadn’t wanted to attend, you’d done so anyway, not wanting to upset her after all her hard work.

And of course, she’d invited all the girls from Bangtan’s most powerful families including your arch nemesis at the time - Jihyo. 

Jihyo was as beautiful as she was mean, and though she was a little older than you were she never passed up the opportunity to humiliate you.  Your birthday was no different.

When you’d turned up in that ridiculous excuse of a dress - a frilly, pink puff pastry of a thing - Jihyo had spent all evening making fun of you in corners, and whispering cruel things behind your back.

Nayeon had threatened to bite her nose off but the both of you knew she was untouchable.  Jihyo was the Taehyung’s father’s niece.  She moved around the room like she owned it (and in a way she did) and it wasn’t until she made a comment about the angle of your mouth that Jungkook had stepped towards you and taken your hand.

Of course, Jihyo seethed with anger and jealousy all night. 

All the Bangtan girls wanted just a little of Jungkook’s attention - but he spent all evening treating you like a princess.  He laughed at your jokes, and danced with you, and even tucked your curls behind your ears. 

And you knew it was only because Jihyo was a bully and Nayeon was his little sister so you were too, in a way, but it didn’t really matter.  Because that evening it was like he’d plucked the moon right out of the sky and placed it in your pocket.

That was how special you’d felt.

And that was the Jungkook you fell in love with.

You nodded,  once, sharply and then took a deep, calming breath.

“You don’t have to worry, okay?”  Your voice was shaking but you forced yourself to move past it, “I won’t let my feelings for you get in the way of things.  Ever.  I know what this marriage means to you.”

For a moment - just one moment - it seemed like something close to regret flashed past Jungkook’s eyes.  But it was gone before you were even sure you’d seen it.

“Thank you, Y/N.”  He bowed gently and you tried to smile.

It was only later on, when Nayeon came back with a cup of chamomile to calm your nerves, and a sympathetic smile to stroke your pain, that you finally gave way to the tears that had threatened to spill since Jungkook’s arrival.

This was all a fucking mess.

//

[homoose]

Teach Me Something I Don’t Know: Part VII

Summary: Spencer’s unresolved trauma catches up with him. Reader gets her heart broken.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, I’m so sorry guys

Warnings/Includes: brief mention of violence and details of a case; brief mention of prison, past trauma; a lil self-loathing and self-sabotaging

Word count: 3.8k

a/n: I knew that this was where this story was going from the very beginning. The dialogue is one of the first parts I had written. It still hurts. Relevant to the story: I operate with the understanding that the Jeid arc does not exist, which also means that Spencer never went to therapy in season 15. Also, huge thanks to @reidscanehand​ for beta-ing and just generally being my hype person!!!!

Song Recs: Shrike by Hozier; Better As a Memory by Kenny Chesney (don’t come for me if Spencer made playlists this would ABSOLUTELY be on there)

Series Masterlist

———

Spencer made his way to Emily’s office, ignoring the team’s eyes on him— varying degrees of understanding, concern, and uncertainty plain on their faces. As he reached the threshold, he paused for a second before moving into her line of sight. When he moved into the doorway, she looked up and waved him in. He closed the door behind him.

She gestured to the chair in front of her desk. Spencer hesitated for only a split second, but it was long enough for her to notice. He lowered himself into the chair and met her eyes.

She folded her hands on top of the desk. “How are you feeling?”

He drummed his fingers across his kneecaps. “I’m fine.”

It was a lie, and they both knew it. She bit back a sigh and flipped open the folder in front of her. “I’m finished with the official report. I wanted to go over it with you before I submit it to the director.” She looked at him briefly before reading out the report. “On January 9th, our team pursued a lead at the residence of suspect Andrew Hurley. We divided into teams to cover the two entrances to the home, as well as the barn behind the house.”

Spencer fidgeted slightly in his chair and rubbed the tips of his fingers together. Emily continued, “During the raid, Supervisory Special Agent Spencer Reid became separated from the team and was ambushed and disarmed by the suspect in the barn.” She paused but didn’t look at him. “The team was unaware of the altercation for some time, during which Dr. Reid employed various approved restraint methods and was ultimately forced to utilize self-defense measures to preserve his own life. Consequently, Mr. Hurley sustained serious injuries.”

She did look at him then, a steady and unrelenting gaze that had him shrinking inside himself. “However, I have determined that Dr. Reid’s actions were justified in order to maintain his own safety.” She returned her eyes to the report. “Mr. Hurley was detained and treated for his injuries at Sebastian River Medical Center, and he is expected to make a full recovery. Based on the cognitive interviews and physical evidence, a grand jury hearing is scheduled for January 25th.” She brought her hands to rest on top of the report.

“I’ll sign off on it and deliver it to the director by the end of business today.” She let out the sigh she’d been holding back. “Reid.”

He pressed his mouth into a thin line, torn between shame and vindication. “Emily.”

“What happened in that barn was unacceptable. And I need you to recognize that.” Her eyes were back on him, a leader’s gaze boring into a weak link. “You went against a direct order. You put your life in danger unnecessarily, and in the process you endangered this entire team. Furthermore, you could have cost us the ability to close this case, to put Hurley away and bring justice to his victims.”

“It won’t happen again,” he assured her.

“No, it won’t.” Her tone told him that if it did, he’d have bigger problems than a meeting in her office. “My recommendation to the director is that you transition to your next mandatory leave cycle early.”

“I can handle—”

“It’s not a request. You’re on sabbatical starting tomorrow. That’s an order, and one you’d do well to follow.” She closed the file in front of her. “We’ll see you back in the bullpen on March 7th.”

“I don’t need more time off, Emily,” Spencer snapped.

He could see her grind her teeth together at his tone, but he couldn’t seem to care enough to feel contrite. She took a deep breath in through her nose, leveling him with a pointed look. “If Simmons hadn’t broken it up, you’d have killed Hurley on the floor of that barn.”

His mind snapped back to the lifeless eyes of Hurley’s victims— eight year old boys in shallow graves. Boys who died afraid, and in pain, and crying out for their mothers. His thoughts raced to the feel of Hurley’s throat under his arm, the crack of the zygomatic under his fist. Emily was right of course. If Matt hadn’t found them in the barn and dragged him up and off of Hurley’s nearly lifeless body, Spencer would have killed him without compunction.

“Reid.” The stern edge was gone from her voice. Spencer refocused his eyes on her face, now showcasing an underlying concern that made his stomach turn. “I’m not recommending another cycle of mandatory counseling at this time, although I reserve the right to require it moving forward. But… I’m asking you to take care of yourself. You’ve been through a lot in the last two years. More than a lot.”

“I said I’m fine,” he insisted, but there was less fire behind it this time.

“And I’m not saying you aren’t,” she countered. “But I am saying that the person in that barn… that wasn’t you. That was not the Reid that I know.” Emily tilted her head and furrowed her brow. “The Reid I know uses his intellect and empathy to see angles that the rest of us miss. He depends on the strength of his mind and his unwavering compassion to diffuse conflicts without violence. He invites his friends to foreign film showings and puppet theater.”

When he didn’t budge, she let out a long breath. “I want you to take the next fifty days to find that Reid and bring him back to us.”

...

Y/N dropped into her desk chair with a huff. They’d been back from winter break for two weeks, and she already needed another vacation. But tomorrow was Friday, and then they had a long weekend. She could make it through one more day.

She closed her eyes for a long moment, tired in the way that only kindergarten teachers fresh off a long break can be. She heard the click of Anita’s shoes coming before she even entered the room, and Y/N couldn’t stop the twitch of her lips.

“Dude. How is it only Thursday?” Anita flopped down into the plush Calm Corner chair.

“This has been the longest week of my life,” Y/N agreed. “My kids were off the chain.”

“There is so much drama in middle school right now,” Anita groaned. “I can’t keep up with all the tea, and you know how I love to stay up to date on the freshest brews.” She shot Y/N a look. “Speaking of, where’s the good doctor?”

“I think they’ve had a lot going on at work,” Y/N surmised. “I haven’t seen Mrs. Jareau in over a month.”

“Well, I’m getting antsy,” Anita complained. “Thought for sure you’d be going steady by now.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help but feel a little impatient herself. If she’d known it would be this long before she’d see him again, she might have made a move when he’d volunteered. Then again, probably not. She sighed.

Her phone chimed with an email message, and she automatically swiped the screen open to read it.

Spencer Reid Re:

Are you free today? If you are, I’ll be at Soho.

...

Spencer sat at the table in the corner of the coffee shop. He sipped absentmindedly at his tea, almost gone cold. He hadn’t waited for a reply before leaving Quantico. He drove straight to the city, figuring he’d wait at Soho until he felt some semblance of calm returning to his body.

He didn’t know why he’d emailed Y/N, and he wasn’t sure he really wanted her to show up. Usually he’d talk to Penelope or maybe JJ. But he’d wanted to get as far from the BAU as possible, and he didn’t want to drag Penelope away from the colorful, safe corner of the world she’d created for herself. He didn’t want to fill it with all the tragedy she’d tried so hard to leave behind.

If Y/N did show, he was certain he could keep the conversation vague, focus on her and the classroom, ask her about her holidays. She wasn’t a profiler, didn’t know his tells well enough. She’d be none the wiser, and he’d have her warmth and presence to focus his energy on, if only for a few hours.

Every time the bell chimed, his eyes flew to the door, searching for her. He knew it was ridiculous. He’d only known her for one hundred and eleven days. Pragmatically, he knew she shouldn’t be the one he wanted to talk to. Realistically, he wasn’t planning to burden her with all of the mess of the past week, the past year, his entire life.

But in the six hundred and forty seven minutes he’d spent with her since September, he’d felt more like himself than he ever had. He was never afraid to be himself with her— the silly story voices, the ridiculous costume, the magic trick, the vulnerability about his mom. All of these pieces of himself were things he usually waited years to show people. It had taken her a matter of weeks to draw them out.

He couldn’t help but believe that if he wanted to, he could tell her everything. She’d know exactly what to say. She’d listen for as long as he could keep talking. She’d cover his shaking hands and wrap him up in the warmth of her spirit. She’d give of herself to guide him back to the person he used to be. She’d be more than willing to use her radiance to illuminate the dark so that he might have a little light again.

The bell sounded, and his eyes focused, and there she was. She was wrapped up in a puffed jacket, a bright blue scarf tied around her neck. Her nose was adorably red from the cold, and she rubbed her hands together as the door closed behind her. Her eyes found him immediately. A small smile turned up the corners of her mouth, and she gave him an enthusiastic wave. And he knew that he was right about all of it.

She approached the table, unwinding her scarf. “Hi!”

“Hi.”

Her eyes flickered over his face, and then settled on his mostly empty mug. “I’ll get you a refill, and then we’ll catch up?”

He nodded, and she headed to the counter. There had been a part of him that thought she wouldn’t come, but of course she did. For some reason, unbeknownst to him, she liked talking to him. Even among his closest friends, he was often made to feel self-conscious about his tendency to ramble, but Y/N had literally asked him to. She sought him out, asked him questions, listened intently, and remembered things he’d told her. She was kind and thoughtful and genuine. Of course she came when he called.

She returned with two mugs, carefully setting them down on the tiny table. She unzipped and removed her jacket, hanging it on the back of her chair and revealing a crew neck sweater covered in tiny astronauts and rocket ships. When she sat across from him, her hands wrapped around the mug and her eyes met his.

“Hi.”

He couldn’t stop his lips from twitching, despite the events of the day. “You said that already.”

She laughed, and he felt the weight begin to lift. “Yeah, well, I haven’t seen you in forever, so— I’m just making up for lost time.”

“Sixty one days.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s been sixty one days, eighty eight minutes, and approximately,” he looked at his watch, “fourteen seconds since we saw each other last.”

She laughed again, and his mouth completed its curve. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I like that you’ve been counting.” She let her chin come to rest in her hand, eyes studying his face. “How are you?”

He wanted to lie, but she was looking at him so earnestly that he mumbled out, “I’m managing.”

She mirrored the way he’d looked at her across this same table nearly three months ago. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” That was a lie, too. But asking her to meet him was enough of a burden.

“Okay. Well, if you change your mind at any point, let me know.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him. “Until then, I can just regale you with all the kindergarten stories you’ve missed while you were out saving lives.”

And regale him she did. For almost an hour, he listened to her tales of love (budding crushes were taking over recess time), loss (the class pet— a stuffed zebra— had accidentally taken a swim in the Atlantic on a vacation to Florida), and lessons learned…

“So, in case there was ever any doubt, we are now painfully aware that we shouldn’t attempt to flush our underwear.” Y/N let out an exasperated laugh.

She’d been talking to him for fifty three minutes, and his heart already felt one thousand times lighter. “I’m really glad I wasn’t there for that one.”

“I really wish that was the only poop story I had.” She shook her head. “There are a lot of things they don’t tell you in grad school. I think there’d be a global teacher shortage if they warned you about the amount of bodily fluid management involved in teaching kindergarten.”

She toyed with the edge of her empty mug. He watched the movement of her fingers.

“Do you—”

“Do you—”

She laughed and gestured for him to speak first.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

…

They ended up in Mitchell Park. The trees were bare and the grass was brown, but he was with her, and so it was beautiful.

They’d been walking in comfortable silence, when she asked, “Did you change your mind? About talking about it.”

Spencer put his hands into his pockets. “It’s, um— it’s kind of a lot.”

She shrugged. “I’ve got time.”

“I don’t mean— I mean, it would take some time to get through it all. But it’s also— it’s a lot.”

“We don’t have to.” He could feel her eyes on him. “Do you talk to— someone about it?”

“I talked with my unit chief today,” he answered.

“Okay. But— I mean, have you ever— talked to someone. Like, a professional.”

Spencer bristled slightly. Although he knew she wasn’t passing judgement, her question exposed the reality that she thought he could use it. “I’ve had some mandated counseling over the years.”

“Obviously it’s your choice whether you talk to someone or not,” she mused. “I just— I know that I’ve benefited a lot from seeing my therapist.”

Spencer was unsure of what to do with that information. Here she was, confessing that she went to therapy— sweet, lovely Y/N. In comparison, he wasn’t sure if even daily meetings with a counselor would be enough to tame the darkness that had grown and festered inside him over the years. That sometimes threatened to swallow him whole.

For a long while, there was only the crunch of the frozen ground beneath their feet. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was an uncertainty about them that felt uncharacteristically heavy. He was hyper aware of her presence, and so he felt her pace slowing down before she came to a complete stop. He walked a few more paces before it became clear that she wasn’t planning to catch up.

He turned and saw that she’d taken a seat on one of the park benches. He carefully made his way to the bench, sitting beside her quietly. She didn’t look at him, but instead studied her fingernails intently. She cracked her knuckles once, twice, and then turned her body slightly toward him on the bench.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” she hedged carefully. “I didn’t mean to tell you what to do, or like, imply that there’s anything wrong with you. There’s nothing wrong with you at all. I just—”

“It’s fine,” Spencer assured her. The way she looked at him then— like he was something fragile, delicate— made his eyes burn. He kept his voice even. “I know what you meant.”

She smiled, eyes crinkling and filled with something that felt familiar and far away all at once. “Good. I can’t have you out here thinking you’re anything less than wonderful.”

He couldn’t stop looking at her, attempting to solve the impossible cypher behind her irises. As he failed to decode it, his inability to read her blinded him to what came next. He missed the dilation of her pupils, the way her tongue darted out to wet her lips, the increase of the beats in her carotid. So when she leaned in and pressed her mouth to his, he was momentarily paralyzed.

Her lips were so soft against his slightly chapped ones, pressing with a perfectly gentle pressure. She brought her hand up to cradle his cheek, the pads of her fingers just barely ghosting the curls falling around his ear. She sighed into his mouth and pressed a little closer. He took one peaceful moment to bask in the realization of a desire he’d had for almost four months.

And then she swiped the very tentative tip of her tongue against the seam of his mouth, and his hands involuntarily wound into her hair, dragging her closer. He opened his mouth against hers to swallow her sweet little gasp. His grip on her hair tightened, and she let out the tiniest mewl, and like a switch had flipped— suddenly his mind was full of the darkness she’d spent the evening chasing away.

Y/N beneath him in the dark. Maeve in a pool of blood. His hands around Cat’s neck. His mother’s slap against his cheek. Max walking away from him. His fingers pressing the plunger on a dirty syringe. The slam of the door behind his father. Y/N calling out his name. A knife at his throat under a canopy of bones. Innumerable sets of lifeless eyes staring up at him. His life being snuffed out on the dirt floor of a shed. The clanging of metal bars and fingers ghosting over old bruises. Y/N looking at him with warm, loving eyes. The violent crack of bone underneath his fists. Y/N’s face, lovely and perfect— and then twisted in pain.

He broke away from her, releasing his hold on her hair and pushing her back into the bench. He took a second to gather himself before he dared to look at her. Her hair was tousled from his rough grip; her eyes were half-lidded and focused on him; her lips were red and kiss-bruised and turned up in a small, sweet smile.

And all at once he knew he had to hurt her, and it had to be now. Because what Cat had said about him was true. He might have escaped his mother’s illness, but he hadn’t been able to outrun the violence— and unlike her, he didn’t have the excuse of being sick. He had hurt people, and he had enjoyed it. He would have killed Hurley, and he would have slept soundly. He was no better than the men his team hunted.

Every time he thought he’d moved past it, that wickedness lurking just under the surface would grab him by the throat, choking everything else out. Emily’s directive rang in his ears. Find that Reid and bring him back to us. He knew who she was talking about. The problem was, he wasn’t sure that person still existed.

He was going to hurt Y/N eventually. Better to do it now, before things got too far.

“You’re Michael’s teacher,” he said, as evenly as possible.

Her smile faltered, and she pressed her lips together. He could still feel the phantom press of them against his own, and he was sure he’d never forget it. She cleared her throat. “You’re right, you’re totally right. I, um— I won’t be in a few months, and maybe then—”

“You don’t even know me,” he interrupted.

Now there was confusion in her eyes. That much he could read. She huffed out a small laugh. “I— I don’t think that’s entirely true.”

He looked directly at her. “Why? Because you read my bio on a university website? Because we got tea a couple times?” His voice sounded harsh, patronizing, and he hated it.

Her confusion shifted into shock, and he ignored the tug on his heart. “Are you serious?” she questioned, genuinely searching for a sign that he was joking.

“Dead serious.” He shrugged, and it felt like his bones were breaking. “You don’t really know anything about me, Y/N. If you did, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

“Where— where is this coming from?” Her voice was small, close to breaking. He lined up the last nail on the lid of the coffin.

“Maybe I gave you the wrong impression. I’ve appreciated talking to you. Volunteering in your classroom was entertaining. But I don’t— I don’t see you that way.” It was a lie, and if he didn’t have such a practiced poker face, she might have seen through it. As it was, his poker face had helped get him banned from every casino in Vegas, so he watched her as he hammered the final nail. “You’re just Michael’s kindergarten teacher.”

“Oh.” The hurt flashed across her features— the furrow of her brow, the tightening of her mouth, the storm clouds in her eyes. “Well, I— I really read this wrong, huh?” She laughed, but there was no humor in it.

“Yeah.” He put his hands into his pockets to keep himself from reaching for her, the desire to comfort her a strange juxtaposition to the pain he was intentionally inflicting on her. “I guess so.”

She opened and closed her mouth twice before taking a deep breath and nearly whispering, “Okay. Well. I’m— I’m gonna go.”

She brushed some imaginary dust from her pants and then stood. She turned to him, and he waited for her to explode— to scream and curse at him. But it didn’t come. She didn’t look at him at all. “Um— yeah. I’m gonna go.”

He didn’t say anything, and he knew she’d take his silence as indifference. But he had to keep his mouth shut, because if he didn’t, he’d beg her to stay. He’d tell her every single random piece of information he had stored in his brain. He’d tell her that he loved her from the moment he watched her help a child pick a solution from a pencil box. He’d tell her that he only ever dreamt of two things these days— her or the lives he didn’t save. He’d tell her every single one of his deepest, darkest secrets. He’d tell her that sometimes he was so afraid of himself that he could barely breathe. And if he told her all of that, she’d walk away anyway.

So instead, he watched her turn and start back up the path, hugging her arms around herself and swiping her cheek against her scarf.

When she disappeared over the slope of the path, he scrubbed his hands over his own damp face and let himself break.

———

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[thegingeralien]

Thought I might share my “doing homework with adhd” tips in case the might help even just one person (because that would make me feel happy).

Who am I to be giving you advice? Good point! I am still terrible at studying and I’m 26 and at University for the millionth time. But I have studied A LOT in my 22 years of schooling with varying degrees of success.

I see a lot of people, especially teenagers or first year university/college students, with ADHD asking for tips on how to study. But if you do a google search most of the websites and advice that comes up can be extremely ableist. So I hope I can help someone!

TIPS TO HELP YOU STUDY WHEN YOU HAVE AN ADHD GREMLIN BRAIN!:

1. Chewing gum!

- This might come across as a weird one, but it has actually really helped me. I use it as a form of stimming to help keep me focused and concentrating. Other forms of stimming can potentially end up being more of a distraction when you actually need to be reading or writing - but they can help if you just need to be listening. Try not to get a bubble gum or fun flavoured one though - as they can end up making your mouth feel dry, lose flavour quickly, and just give your brain way too many sensory things to become distracted with.

2. Buying colour coded stationary!

- New stationary can make me really excited to start studying, but that excitement never lasts long and the act of buying stationary can sometimes become it’s own hobby. That’s not what we are going for here. I really recommend, especially if you are a visual learner like me, to buy colour coded stationary. This means removable page markers, different coloured post it notes, highlighters, sometimes even pens. This way if your mind jumps from one topic to the other, it doesn’t matter. Go with the flow. Forcing your ADHD gremlin brain to focus can be extremely counter intuitive. So pick a colour for each topic, and stick to that system to find organisation among your own chaos!

3. Buy a really cheap, boring year diary with hardly any writing inside.

- Not sure if your school/university has their own diary but they can be perfect for what I am on about. Generally you can find them for really cheap, soft cover, no writing or designs within the dates. Just dates, days, weeks and lines where you can write your homework. This helped me a lot in High School. I wish I had kept doing it in University, but I am good with giving advice, and not so much with taking it. I used to decorate the outside of it however I wanted. Some years I would redecorate the same diary every semester. In the public holidays or holiday days I would colour those lines in with different highlighters to make it look like a rainbow. But every assignment due date, homework, draft, rewrite, form I had to bring back, library book due date, school activity days, ANYTHING to do with school I would write in there with reminds and check lists. Important due dates would be highlighted, general homework and daily to do lists t(o help me not leave my assignments to the last minute) would have a tick box beside them (because ticking tick boxes is free dopamine). Try to not put birthdays or fun things in it. This is a small way to stay on track so it helps you actually stay on track with the big things when you’re home.

4. Big whiteboards stuck on the wall where you can’t avoid it.

- This is not something I had in school, but I so wish I did. I have been using this recently to keep on top of house work (as maintaining your own house is tiring) and my small business or other things I really can’t avoid. If I physically write it down (not just in my phone) it psychologically does help you commit it to memory. Again, physically putting a line through a task you just completed is a hecking great rush of dopamine. But the biggest reason I love my white board, I can’t ignore it. It is stuck to the wall and is never out of sight, out of mind. I can’t put my phone or diary down and then refuse to look at it until I’m past the due date. Again, I’m not a perfect person, there are days where I don’t do anything I have written on the white board. But the great thing is, I don’t have to continuously feel like I failure, as I can wipe it all off the next morning or week and start fresh. I also put important things I have to remember that I’m doing during the week so I don’t forget them.

5. Icky Medication.

- I know not everyone wants to be on medication, and I understand. I am not forcing you to. No matter what your opinions are, you lovely gremlin who is still reading this post, regarding medication, you are valid and I respect you. My personal experience with medication has not been the best. I have been misdiagnosed for a severe chunk of my academic life which has seen me trying to focus and maintain school work under some even worse states then I am unmedicated! However, since receiving my diagnosis and finding the right ADHD medication for me, I have the ability to get so much work done without having to unnecessarily struggle. It’s unfortunately not magic, it will not turn me into a robot that makes me do work and turn out incredible, noble peace prize winning assignments (as much as I wish that were possible). I still have the ability to be a lump, doom scrolling through tumblr, forgetting to eat, and ignoring responsibilities. But it really helps me when I sit down and start that thing that isn’t fun. Yesterday it helped me hyperfocus on cleaning my office which was a terrifying room to be in. So it’s pretty close to magic in my opinion!

6. Accessing Disability Support at your place of learning.

- Not all of you taking the time to read this will have either a) an offical diagnosis or b) a good disability support available to you wherever you are completing your studies. And that is okay. This dot point just won’t be for you right now. But keep it in mind for a time when it might apply to you, as it’s something I never thought I would need, but will never take for granted ever again.

- If you have an offical diagnosis and Disability Support, make an appointment with the disability support adviser. DO IT NOW! Get your psychiatrist to write a diagnosis letter outlining that you have <enter superpower that makes you hilarious here> and that you are receiving <enter x,y,z treatment here> and that you would benefit from receiving <enter what you have always wished you had on the days you can’t make your ADHD gremlin brain do the thing here>. Now these benefits can be, but not limit to: automatic extensions on ALL assignments, extra time on exams, extra breaks to walk around while taking exams, special consideration when marking assignments, my university allows me to take exams in a separate room with only the other students in my subject who also have disability support (occasionally I have taken an exam alone with only a tutor present) so I don’t get distracted, permission to take fidget items into class or exam (I have the option to wear headphones, as long as I can display that they are not connected to anything). Maybe you can come up with some great ones for you with your disability advisor or your psychiatrist.

- The disability advisor will often go through your course outline with you at the start of each semester or year. This is annoying and a great time for disassociating, but can be useful in hindsight because you are made aware of everything that will come up during your class so you are not surprised. Because lets be honest, it is unlikely you are going to look at the course calendar too often.

- Side Note: I make an appointment every semester with my disability support officer for my area of study to make sure I have my special considerations for the year. Now I may go through the whole year without ever using my considerations. However, the fact that I know they are there takes an insane amount of pressure off of myself. If I’m having an insanely screwy loony tune mental health moment, I can email my coordinator my disability plan and say I need an extension due to personal reasons, and WHOOP, there it izzzzz.

7. Dedicated one thing or a few things that have nothing to do with food/alcohol/other substances to reward yourself with for doing the thing!

- This may not work for everyone. It doesn’t always work for me. I used to reward myself with food, but that only reinforced my stimming with overeating and my already bad relationship with food. And I feel as though that would be the same with any other substance that can be linked with addiction. (Addiction is a tough word, cause what aren’t I addicted to, I have ADHD, but hopefully you get what I mean!).

-Now, boring try and not choose this aside, lets think of somethings that work really well as rewards!

- My partner likes to come give me a kiss and a hug when ever they have written and reread a paragraph, you might buy a book when you get a really good mark, you might want to go make a cup of tea and watch an episode of your hyperfixation after studying for <enter a good period of time here>, you might allow yourself to partake in an activity you usually do while procrastinating (but at least this time you know you aren’t putting something off), talk to someone who you know will tell you they are proud of you as they understand the mental struggle you go through to concentrate (if you can’t think of anyone, it is 110% okay if that person are the amazing people on tumblr or the adhd tumblr chats. We will freaking pop a bottle of champagne for you cause we get it!).

- Try and make what ever you choose be something in a different room or away from your working space. Getting out can really calm you down.

8. Don’t be afraid to ask for assistance.

- This is true for anything, but I don’t mean just asking your teacher to give you extra help understanding the task and marking rubric. Many people online, tutors, librarians at your school, past or present students offer assistance rereading and making small edits (they won’t make it magical unfortunately) to your assignments. If you are like me and once you have written or completed the dreaded thing, you can not imagine or force your gremlin brain reread or edit the thing. So it can help to just delegate this to someone else, who hasn’t read it before, so they won’t disassociate or skim read it. They will often notice things you never would have even if you were neurotypical as that is just what happens when you have been working on something for so long.

9. Repetitive music.

- It generally helps if this has no lyrics. Lo-fi is amazing. Classical is alright too if it works for you, but both my partner and I agree that it can really assist you to keep up pace and focus when the beat is a high and repetitive (almost meditative) tempo.

10. Limit your screen space.

- This is a tip completely from my partner @dr-adhd who also has ADHD, is an avid PC gamer and is consistently in a battle with their gremlin brain to focus on completing their PhD. They have discovered that it really helps them to limit their screen space - simply put, work on one screen only. They have done more work more easily when they have their one screen on their laptop to focus on. Whereas their office has multiple screens so they could be playing runescape, watching YouTube, listening to lo-fi and doing work - which never worked (shocking right hahaha).

11. At the risk of sounding like a Mum... Put your phone and other electronics other than the assignment necessary one, away.

- I am a Mum, but to a fluffy puppy dog, so I hate to sound like my Mum when I was in high school, but she was right. Mobiles are the single easiest and biggest distraction in ADHD history. I often, even at coffee shops, have to turn my phone over so that I am not consistently looking at it every time the screen lights up to say the pizza place has sent me a coupon, or a carpet place that has been having a sale since I was born is... still having a sale, or a friend from school wants you to watch this TikTok. Even though you might not want to ignore your friends, because people pleasing, difficulting making/keeping friends and RSD are hecking real things, but they can all wait. Trust me, none of them are urgent. That TikTok will still be funny in an hour or two. And I’m probably completely right when I say that whomever just messaged you, never replies as quickly as you want them too. So I doubt they are going to think twice if you are MIA to finish your thing.

My partner or I might add to this later, but at the moment I already know that I probably wouldn’t read this wall of words if I was the one reading it, so if you are still with me, THANK YOU and I really hope I might have helped you. Sorry for the mound of words, but maybe you can reblog, screen shot, or save this and read a dot point at a time or refer to it when you need. Don’t be afraid to ask questions, I promise what ever it is, I’ve asked the same thing once in my life or something MUCH stupider.

[qqueenofhades]

Re: the post you reblogged about Bush. I'm 21 and tbh feel like I can only vote for Bernie, can you explain if/why I shouldn't? Thanks and sorry if this is dumb or anything.

Oh boy. Okay, I’ll do my best here. Note that a) this will get long, and b) I’m old, Tired, and I‘m pretty sure my brain tried to kill me last night. Since by nature I am sure I will say something Controversial ™, if anyone reads this and feels a deep urge to inform me that I am Wrong, just… mark it down as me being Wrong and move on with your life. But also, really, you should read this and hopefully think about it. Because while I’m glad you asked this question, it feels like there’s a lot in your cohort who won’t, and that worries me. A lot.

First, not to sound utterly old-woman-in-a-rocking-chair ancient, people who came of age/are only old enough to have Obama be the first president that they really remember have no idea how good they had it. The world was falling the fuck apart in 2008 (not coincidentally, after 8 years of Bush). We came within a flicker of the permanent collapse of the global economy. The War on Terror was in full roar, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan were at their height, we had Dick Cheney as the cartoon supervillain before we had any of Trump’s cohort, and this was before Chelsea Manning or Edward Snowden had exposed the extent of NSA/CIA intelligence-gathering/American excesses or there was any kind of public debate around the fact that we were all surveilled all the time. And the fact that a brown guy named Barack Hussein Obama was elected in this climate seems, and still seems tbh, kind of amazing. And Obama was certainly not a Perfect President ™. He had to scale back a lot of planned initiatives, he is notorious for expanding the drone strike/extrajudicial assassination program, he still subscribed to the overall principles of neoliberalism and American exceptionalism, etc etc. There is valid criticism to be made as to how the hopey-changey optimistic rhetoric stacked up against the hard realities of political office. And yet…. at this point, given what we’re seeing from the White House on a daily basis, the depth of the parallel universe/double standards is absurd.

Because here’s the thing. Obama, his entire family, and his entire administration had to be personally/ethically flawless the whole time (and they managed that – not one scandal or arrest in eight years, against the legions of Trumpistas now being convicted) because of the absolute frothing depths of Republican hatred, racial conspiracy theories, and obstruction against him. (Remember Merrick Garland and how Mitch McConnell got away with that, and now we have Gorsuch and Kavanaugh on the Supreme Court? Because I remember that). If Obama had pulled one-tenth of the shit, one-twentieth of the shit that the Trump administration does every day, he would be gone. It also meant that people who only remember Obama think he was typical for an American president, and he wasn’t. Since about… Jimmy Carter, and definitely since Ronald Reagan, the American people have gone for the Trump model a lot more than the Obama model. Whatever your opinion on his politics or character, Obama was a constitutional law professor, a community activist, a neighborhood organizer and brilliant Ivy League intellectual who used to randomly lie awake at night thinking about income inequality. Americans don’t value intellectualism in their politicians; they just don’t. They don’t like thinking that “the elites” are smarter than them. They like the folksy populist who seems fun to have a beer with, and Reagan/Bush Senior/Clinton/Bush Junior sold this persona as hard as they possibly could. As noted in said post, Bush Junior (or Shrub as the late, great Molly Ivins memorably dubbed him) was Trump Lite but from a long-established political family who could operate like an outwardly civilized human.

The point is: when you think Obama was relatively normal (which, again, he wasn’t, for any number of reasons) and not the outlier in a much larger pattern of catastrophic damage that has been accelerated since, again, the 1980s (oh Ronnie Raygun, how you lastingly fucked us!), you miss the overall context in which this, and which Trump, happened. Like most left-wingers, I don’t agree with Obama’s recent and baffling decision to insert himself into the 2020 race and warn the Democratic candidates against being too progressive or whatever he was on about. I think he was giving into the same fear that appears to be motivating the remaining chunk of Joe Biden’s support: that middle/working-class white America won’t go for anything too wild or that might sniff of Socialism, and that Uncle Joe, recalled fondly as said folksy populist and the internet’s favorite meme grandfather from his time as VP, could pick up the votes that went to Trump last time. And that by nature, no one else can.

The underlying belief is that these white voters just can’t support anything too “un-American,” and that by pushing too hard left, Democratic candidates risk handing Trump a second term. Again: I don’t agree and I think he was mistaken in saying it. But I also can’t say that Obama of all people doesn’t know exactly the strength of the political machine operating against the Democratic Party and the progressive agenda as a whole, because he ran headfirst into it for eight years. The fact that he managed to pass any of his legislative agenda, usually before the Tea Party became a thing in 2010, is because Democrats controlled the House and Senate for the first two years of his first term. He was not perfect, but it was clear that he really did care (just look up the pictures of him with kids). He installed smart, efficient, and scandal-free people to do jobs they were qualified for. He gave us Elena Kagan and Sonia Sotomayor to join RBG on the Supreme Court. All of this seems… like a dream.

That said: here we are in a place where Biden, Bernie Sanders, and Elizabeth Warren are the front-runners for the Democratic nomination (and apparently Pete Buttigieg is getting some airplay as a dark horse candidate, which… whatever). The appeal of Biden is discussed above, and he sure as hell is not my favored candidate (frankly, I wish he’d just quit). But Sanders and Warren are 85% - 95% similar in their policy platforms. The fact that Michael “50 Billion Dollar Fortune” Bloomberg started rattling his chains about running for president is because either a Sanders or Warren presidency terrifies the outrageously exploitative billionaire capitalist oligarchy that runs this country and has been allowed to proceed essentially however the fuck they like since… you guessed it, the 1980s, the era of voodoo economics, deregulation, and the free market above all. Warren just happens to be ten years younger than Sanders and female, and Sanders’ age is not insignificant. He’s 80 years old and just had a heart attack, and there’s still a year to go to the election. It’s also more than a little eye-rolling to describe him as the only progressive candidate in the race, when he’s an old white man (however much we like and approve of his policy positions). And here’s the thing, which I think is a big part of the reason why this polarized ideological purity internet leftist culture mistrusts Warren:

She may have changed her mind on things in the past.

Scary, right? I sound like I’m being facetious, but I’m not. An argument I had to read with my own two eyes on this godforsaken hellsite was that since Warren became a Democrat around the time Clinton signed Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, she sekritly hated gay people and might still be a corporate sellout, so on and etcetera. (And don’t even get me STARTED on the fact that DADT, coming a few years after the height of the AIDS crisis which was considered God’s Judgment of the Icky Gays, was the best Clinton could realistically hope to achieve, but this smacks of White Gay Syndrome anyway and that is a whole other kettle of fish.) Bernie has always demonstrably been a democratic socialist, and: good for him. I’m serious. But because there’s the chance that Warren might not have thought exactly as she does now at any point in her life, the hysterical and paranoid left-wing elements don’t trust that she might not still secretly do so. (Zomgz!) It’s the same element that’s feeding cancel culture and “wokeness.” Nobody can be allowed to have shifted or grown in their opinions or, like a functional, thoughtful, non-insane adult, changed their beliefs when presented with compelling evidence to the contrary. To the ideological hordes, any hint of uncertainty or past failure to completely toe the line is tantamount to heresy. Any evidence of any other belief except The Correct One means that this person is functionally as bad as Trump. And frankly, it’s only the Sanders supporters who, just as in 2016, are threatening to withhold their vote in the general election if their preferred candidate doesn’t win the primary, and indeed seem weirdly proud about it.

OK, boomer Bernie or Buster.

Here’s the thing, the thing, the thing: there is never going to be an American president free of the deeply toxic elements of American ideology. There just won’t be. This country has been built how it has for 250 years, and it’s not gonna change. You are never going to have, at least not in the current system, some dream candidate who gets up there and parrots the left-wing talking points and attacks American imperialism, exceptionalism, ravaging global capitalism, military and oil addiction, etc. They want to be elected as leader of a country that has deeply internalized and taken these things to heart for its entire existence, and most of them believe it to some degree themselves. So this groupthink white liberal mentality where the only acceptable candidate is this Perfect Non-Problematic robot who has only ever had one belief their entire lives and has never ever wavered in their devotion to doctrine has really gotten bad. The Democratic Party would be considered… maybe center/mild left in most other developed countries. It’s not even really left-wing by general standards, and Sanders and Warren are the only two candidates for the nomination who are even willing to go there and explicitly put out policy proposals that challenge the systematic structure of power, oppression, and exploitation of the late-stage capitalist 21st century. Warren has the billionaires fussed, and instead of backing down, she’s doubling down. That’s part of why they’re so scared of her. (And also misogyny, because the world is depressing like that.) She is going head-on after picking a fight with some of the worst people on the planet, who are actively killing the rest of us, and I don’t know about you, but I like that.

Of course: none of this will mean squat if she (or the eventual Democratic winner, who I will vote for regardless of who it is, but as you can probably tell, she’s my ride or die) don’t a) win the White House and then do as they promised on the campaign trail, and b) don’t have a Democratic House and Senate willing to have a backbone and pass the laws. Even Nancy Pelosi, much as she’s otherwise a badass, held off on opening a formal impeachment inquiry into Trump for months out of fear it would benefit him, until the Ukraine thing fell into everyone’s laps. The Democrats are really horrible at sticking together and voting the party line the way Republicans do consistently, because Democrats are big-tent people who like to think of themselves as accepting and tolerant of other views and unwilling to force their members’ hands. The Republicans have no such qualms (and indeed, judging by their enabling of Trump, have no qualms at all). 

The modern American Republican party has become a vehicle for no-holds-barred power for rich white men at the expense of absolutely everything and everyone else, and if your rationale is that you can’t vote for the person opposing Donald Goddamn Trump is that you’re just not vibing with them on the language of that one policy proposal… well, I’m glad that you, White Middle Class Liberal, feel relatively safe that the consequences of that decision won’t affect you personally. Even if we’re due to be out of the Paris Climate Accords one day after the 2020 election, and the issue of climate change now has the most visibility it’s ever had after years of big-business, Republican-led efforts to deny and discredit the science, hey, Secret Corporate Shill, am I right? Can’t trust ‘er. Let’s go have a craft beer.

As has been said before: vote as far left as you want in the primary. Vote your ideology, vote whatever candidate you want, because the only way to make actual, real-world change is to do that. The huge, embedded, all-consuming and horrible system in which we operate is not just going to suddenly be run by fairy dust and happy thoughts overnight. Select candidates that reflect your values exactly, be as picky and ideologically militant as you want. That’s the time to do that! Then when it comes to the general election:

America is a two-party system. It sucks, but that’s the case. Third-party votes, or refraining from voting because “it doesn’t matter” are functionally useless at best and actively harmful at worst.

Either the Democratic candidate or Donald Trump will win the 2020 election.

There is absolutely no length that the Republican/GOP machine, and its malevolent allies elsewhere, will not go to in order to secure a Trump victory. None.

Any talk whatsoever about “progressive values” or any kind of liberal activism, coupled with a course of action that increases the possibility of a Trump victory, is hypocritical at best and actively malicious at worst.

This is why I found the Democratic response to Obama’s “don’t go too wild” comments interesting. Bernie doubled down on the fact that his plans have widespread public support, and he’s right. (Frankly, the fact that Sanders and Warren are polling at the top, and the fact that they’re politicians and would not be crafting these campaign messages if they didn’t know that they were being positively received, says plenty on its own). Warren cleverly highlighted and praised Obama’s accomplishments in office (i.e. the Affordable Care Act) and didn’t say squat about whether she agreed or disagreed with him, then went right back to campaigning about why billionaires suck. And some guy named Julian Castro basically blew Obama off and claimed that “any Democrat” could beat Trump in 2020, just by nature of existing and being non-insane.

This is very dangerous! Do not be Julian Castro!

As I said in my tags on the Bush post: everyone assumed that sensible people would vote for Kerry in 2004. Guess what happened? Yeah, he got Swift Boated. The race between Obama and McCain in 2008, even after those said nightmare years of Bush, was very close until the global crash broke it open in Obama’s favor, and Sarah Palin was an actual disqualifier for a politician being brazenly incompetent and unprepared. (Then again, she was a woman from a remote backwater state, not a billionaire businessman.) In 2012, we thought Corporate MormonBot Mitt Fuggin’ Romney was somehow the worst and most dangerous candidate the Republicans could offer. In 2016, up until Election Day itself, everyone assumed that HRC was a badly flawed candidate but would win anyway. And… we saw how that worked out. Complacency is literally deadly.

I was born when Reagan was still president. I’m just old enough to remember the efforts to impeach Clinton over forcing an intern to give him a BJ in the Oval Office (This led by the same Republicans making Donald Trump into a darling of the evangelical Christian right wing.) I’m definitely old enough to remember 9/11 and how America lost its mind after that, and I remember the Bush years. And, obviously, the contrast with Obama, the swing back toward Trump, and everything that has happened since. We can’t afford to do this again. We’re hanging by a thread as it is, and not just America, but the entire planet.

So yes. By all means, vote for Sanders in the primary. Then when November 3, 2020 rolls around, if you care about literally any of this at all, hold your nose if necessary and vote straight-ticket Democrat, from the president, to the House and Senate, to the state and local offices. I cannot put it more strongly than that.

[caffeineghostie]

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐎𝐧 𝐓𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: angst/comfort, talk of failed exams, reader has anxiety

Summary: Reader gets discouraged after failing an exam. Luckily Bucky is there to pick up the pieces. 

A/N: this is purely self indulgent and (unfortunately) based on a true story. I wish I had Bucky to cheer me up like this :)

I'm on mobile so formatting is shitty af, but I'm gonna get it fixed tomorrow after my exam!

Enjoy!

Taglist

Masterlist

ding!

You opened your eyes, rolling on one side to check your phone, the latest notification informing you that the results of your last exam had just been published.

Oh shit.

Not wanting to wake your boyfriend up, you get out of bed, directed to the kitchen, taking a blanket with you.

The light coming from your laptop is the only source of brightness in the room, as you type your password in, logging into your account and you click on the results file.

A long list of codes greets you, each with their respective marks, and you look for yours, your heart thumping in your chest.

"Where is it?" you wonder, frantically repeating your ID number in mind, eyes checking the list over and over again, hoping to see the familiar number.

Then you realize. It's not there. You failed the exam.

Again.

You feel lightheaded, and your ears start ringing. This was an important exam, and you had already taken it multiple times, failing Every. Single. Time. Normally you'd have three tries per year, but this was the last one, and now you failed at your last chance.

Delusion washes over you, a heavy boulder sitting on your chest. Tears start pricking your eyes, threatening to spill on your face. Your sweat turns cold, so you swaddle yourself more in your blanket.

Failing this exam means you won't be able to graduate this year, and then having to wait four months in order to try it again. Months in which you are completely helpless.

How could have this happened? You had studied for weeks in order to pass, staying up at night, memorizing French grammar and verb conjugations, and you were confident you finally made it. How could you have been so stupid? It was an easy subject, and most of your colleagues had passed it with no problems.

The tiny little voice in your head was shouting at you, telling you that you were dumb, and that you could never make it, and that you should leave your studies as soon as possible. There's no use in wasting money like this.

Your mind was racing, lost in these thoughts, and you didn't notice that Bucky had entered the room, and was behind you.

"Y/N?" he calls, turning the lights on. "Baby, what are you doing up?"

His voice startled you, and you try your best to dry the tears that were streaming down your face, but he was faster and was now standing in front of you. As soon as he sees your tears, he rushes over to you.

"Hey, hey, honey, what's going on?" worry fills his sleepy voice.

"I failed it" you croak out. "The exam. I f-failed." you start sobbing again, and Bucky is quick to hug you, engulfing you in his arms.

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry," he coos "I know this was important to you"

"It's just that…" you talk despite the lump in your throat "I was sure I'd pass it, and now I feel so stupid" you put particular emphasis on the last word, your voice cracking up.

"Baby, no, don't say that. Don't talk about you like this. You are one of the most intelligent people I know." he declares, placing one hand under your chin, making you look at him.

"I'm so, so proud of you. I'm proud of you because you tried. And you keep trying every day." his words make you tear up more. Guilt bubbles up in your chest.

"But I'm so tired of trying, Bucky!" you move away from his embrace, sniffling into the blanket.

"I have tried so much, and I can't take it anymore. I try and I keep failing every time. I feel like I don't deserve to be in a university because I am just wasting money it I can't get my degree. Everybody else is going on flawlessly, and I feel like I'm stuck." Your words echo in the kitchen, silence now enveloping both of you.

"Doll, I'm sorry that you feel like this. But you have to give yourself a break. You failed this exam. So what? You can try again next time. There's always a next time. And what if you graduate late? You're still going to get that degree. Comparing yourself to others is never good, because everyone struggles with different things. Trust me, I know," he smiles at you. "I say, keep trying, and in the end it's gonna be so worth it."

"You really think so?" you ask, hopeful.

"Yes, because I know you, I know how stubborn you are, and I know you're gonna make it. I'm so proud of you, honey." he repeats. Bucky approaches you again, putting one hand on your cheek and wiping a tear away with his thumb.

"If you need to take a break, you can take some time off. Your mental health is more important than any exam. And I can be your study buddy or whatever they're called. Either way, I'm going to be with you every step of the way."

"Do you seriously want to help me memorize the correct orthography of every single French word?" you giggle, raising your eyebrows.

"Sure, if that helps you then yes." he promises.

"Now, let's go back to bed, and we can plan out our attack plan tomorrow." Kissing you on your forehead, you both start making your way back to your bedroom.

Nothing can bring you down if you have Bucky on your side, nothing.

[queeenpersephone]

Hello bestie. First I just want to say that your writing literally converted me to being a hardcore ironwidow shipper and your fics are like a blast of AC in your face on like a 100 degree day when you’re walking in to the grocery store. That’s very specific but honestly that’s how I could best describe the vibe. Second, if you’re in the mood for something a lil tropey—ironwidow hogwarts au?

hi bestie! and omg this is such a kind ask and i love your prompt - i'm sorry it's taken me so long to get to it! i love to convert people to ironwidow and anyone who ships it is an instant tumblr bestie so welcome to the fam <3 this one's not too long but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless! also note: just playing around with house choices guys please do not come for me i didn't think too hard about it. Also this is taking place during OotP

-

Tony Stark meets Natasha Romanoff the two days before the start of his Seventh Year. He's Head Boy, top of his class, having already cinched an Arithmancy apprenticeship after graduation - every Ravenclaw's closest held dream. Still, never enough for his father, whom he told about the position mere hours before his parents' died in a horrible accident this summer. Still, he's going to make his mother proud, even if she'll never witness his success herself. He couldn't give a damn about his father, his portrait locked up tightly in the Stark vault at Gringotts.

When Dumbledore calls him into his office before he's settled into his new rooms, Tony expects just about anything but the Weasley-colored redheaded girl sitting across from the Headmaster, posture perfect. He only has to catch a glimpse of her face to dismiss any Weasley relation - she's gorgeous, with dark green, penetrating eyes and full lips, watching him enter with a polite, fixed smile.

"Mr. Stark, this is Natasha Romanoff. She is a transfer from Durmstrang and will be completing her seventh year studies here at Hogwarts." Tony raises his eyebrows at the mention of the Eastern European school, which famously focuses on the Dark Arts, and rather succinctly cut contact with England at the close of the Triwizard Tournament last year. "You will show her the castle and leave her with Professor McGonagall at the close of your tour; she will have separate quarters this year, quite like the Head Boy and Girl." Dumbledore pauses, peering over his glasses. "I trust you will integrate her with all the alacrity deserved of an individual without the nearby comforts of friends and family."

Tony agrees, greets Natasha who seems to evaluate and dismiss him with a few sweeping glances, and proceeds to give her a tour. She observes every polite formality, but she refuses to engage him in any conversation indicative of overtures of friendship.

When they reach McGonagall's office, she turns to him. "I am assuming that your robes indicate you are in the Ravenclaw House." He nods. "Thank you, Mr. Stark, for the tour."

She leaves with no further fanfare. He dreams about her eyes every night for the next three nights, wondering what he found so captivating. Still, he resolves himself to befriend her and hopefully, take her out on a date or two. He's tired of playing the field, and this Natasha Romanoff is a puzzle he's itching to solve.

Three days later, she meets his eyes before she goes under the Hat, taking approximately thirty seconds before the Hat calls out, in a disgruntled tone,

"RAVENCLAW!"

-

The next day, he sits by Natasha in Advanced Arithmancy, studying her notes - which are far beyond the current curriculum in terms of numerology and mathematics - which decides him. He spends a week cajoling her into being his study partner, and she joins him (and Bruce Banner, usually) in the library every day that year. They become friendly enough, but what keeps Tony from sinking into despair at his unlikely chances of wooing her is the fact that, although she's distant with him and Bruce, she avoids every other student like the plague. She even takes walks with him if he asks her, rambling on about his life and his plans, giving him short, succinct answers when he asks about hers, but asking thoughtful questions about his that prove she listens. She takes his hand when he tells her about his parents, and although the subject matter is grim, he rides the high of her touch for weeks.

Oh, and he can never find her on the weekends. He wonders if the lack of class keeps her in her private rooms, which he still doesn't understand why she needs.

At the end of the year, Harry Potter and company's excursion to the Department of Mysteries brings the news that You-Know-Who is back, and Natasha becomes even more absent. She sits for NEWTs, but she is gone before he can ask her for her new address, hoping to visit or write to her. It might be pathetic, but it's during one of these helpless journeys to her rooms that he realizes he's in love with her. She listens to him like no one else ever has, she's smart, she's powerful, she's beautiful, and he's pretty sure she fled from something horrible at Durmstrang, cementing his theory that she's resilient and strong in her beliefs.

He's getting ready to brave Dumbledore's office to ask for her information, when the Professor finds him first, handing him a letter sealed with the emblem of a phoenix.

It's not a hard decision to join this secret Order. For all his father sucked as a father, the Stark family has been fighting against Darkness for decades. It's a calling, and Tony knows he can turn the tide of this fight with his ideas. He bets they don't have anyone that understands Muggle engineering and mathematics the way he does, nor probably, is as advanced in Arithmancy.

He takes the offered portkey and appears in a House, instantly recognizing the portraits as Blacks, which he quickly reasons, must mean that Sirius Black is involved. He looks around him, recognizing several other faces: the Weasley twins, Bruce Banner, Steve Rogers, Thor Odinson, Clint Barton, and Carol Danvers among them.

While the rest of them are looking around, Tony steps toward the door at the end of the hall. Before he can open it, it swings wide, and his suspicions are both confirmed and completely exceeded.

Two people stand in the entranceway. The first is Sirius Black, who greets him with a casual handshake and a smirk. The second: Natasha Romanoff, who grins at him with the most genuine smile he's ever seen from her, though it fades into a smirk when his jaw drops. "Hi Tony," she draws, her green eyes sparkling as if she's pulled off some great trick. Even if she has tricked him, he doesn't care.

"Miss Romanoff," he says, quickly getting his bearings back and swooping into a half-bow over her hand that would make his pureblood ancestors swoon. He kisses her knuckles, making sure to maintain eye contact. "Miss me?"

Sirius chuckles from beside them. "You two are gonna be a blast, aren't you?"

Tony grins and puts a hand at the small of Natasha's back, ushering them into the house. Oh, he thinks, watch and learn, Little Lion.

[justkending]

The Number One Rule. Chapter 20.

Summary: Y/N has always been seen as “Steve’s rambunctious sister.” However, she grew up, graduated, and moved to London to study abroad for 4 years and get her bachelor's degree. The girl that returns looks nothing like the teenager that left, but don’t worry the attitude is still there and stronger than ever. What’s to come of the two grown adults that used to push each other's buttons, but now have a lot more in common than they’ve ever realized.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Y/N Rogers (Steve’s little sister)

Word Count: 3000+

A/N: Ok this is the last full chapter I have written. I’ve begun on 21, but it’s only about halfway done. I’m hoping to have it done by the Saturday, but no promises... Please be patient with me as I have a rather busy schedule and want to give you the best chapters! I hope you all enjoy this one:)

Chapter Twenty:  

Another two weeks had passed, and today was move in day for Y/N into her new apartment. 

She had got a small little flat in Midtown Manhattan, so she was right in between her mom and Steve and Bucky’s house. Having not really time to get furniture and not really having the money for it just yet, she went ahead and got a furnished apartment, so moving in was easy with only bringing in her bedding, boxes of clothes, and decorations. 

The flat that she got was an open concept studio. The only walled rooms were the bathroom and a single closet at the entryway. Everything else was out in the open with no dividers. 

They had given her a bed, couch, dresser, coffee table, and the dining table was an island in the middle of the kitchen looking out to the living room. She went thrifting during some free time finding a bookshelf and end table for her bed to add to the space. 

Bucky and Steve had taken the weekend off to help her move in the heavy loaded things. Becca was coming later to help with some decorating to liven up the space. 

“Where’s this one going?” Steve asked maneuvering through the doorway. 

“They’re literally labeled, big guy,” Y/N shouted from the bathroom where she was organizing her toiletries. 

“Not this one, Miss. Sass,” Steve countered. 

“Just throw it by a wall somewhere then. I’ll get to it later,” she shouted back. 

Bucky came in shortly after with two smaller boxes topped on each other. 

“Ok, I think that’s it. At least in my car,” he noted, dropping them down in the kitchen.

“All clear in my truck,” Steve added with a huff as he brushed his hands off. 

Y/N came out from the bathroom with her hands on her hips and let out a loud breath. 

“Great. All that’s left is decorating and at least making my bed so I have a place to collapse once exhaustion hits me,” she smiled. “And according to the time,” she looked down at her watch, “that will be about 20 minutes.”

Bucky chuckled before moving over and wrapping an arm around her shoulder and squeezing her body into his side. Which she gladly used him as a wall to cave into. 

“Yeah, 4 hours of moving things from mom’s to here was my workout for the day,” Steve laughed. “Now, I was promised dinner and a drink for my payment of heavy lifting, if I remember correctly.”

Y/N rolled her eyes at her brother who batted his long eyelashes at her waiting for her answer. 

“Fine, I’ll call in for pizza. Anyone know a good spot around here?” she asked breaking away from Bucky for just a quick second to grab her phone before rushing back to hold onto him once again. The quick movement made Bucky laugh at how needy she was being for his touch. 

He wasn’t complaining though. Now that Steve knew about them, the simple touches (they were being nice and not being as touchy as they’d like for Steve’s comfort. He was still getting used to it) meant all the world now they can embrace it instead of hide it. 

“There’s Angelo’s and Joe’s. Both mouth watering New York Pies,” Bucky answered, as he wrapped his other arm around her holding her into his side more. She snuggled into his chest as she typed away on her phone for the menus.

“Any preference, Stevie?” she asked. 

“I’m feeling Joe’s. While you order that, I’ll go to the corner store for some beers. Want anything specific?” he asked standing up rolling back his shoulders in a stretch before grabbing his keys. 

“You know the answer to that,” she said, sending a raised eyebrow from behind Bucky’s arm. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll get the Rose,” he waved off moving to the door. “Buck? Anything special.”

“I’m good with whatever.”

“ ‘kay. Be back in a minute.”

Steve walked out the door and instantly Y/N fell back onto her bed with a bounce. 

“You’re really that tired?” Bucky laughed looking at her stilled self. 

“I’ve been packing way before you guys got there to put everything in your cars,” she answered with her eyes closed. 

“Did you sleep last night?” When he didn’t get a response and she just moved her arm over her eyes, he knew the answer. “You waited until the last minute to pack everything up, didn’t you?”

“Not everything… Just my entire bedroom…” she said, peeking an eye out with a small smile. 

Bucky chuckled before falling down next to her. Both of them looked up to stare up at the high exposed ceilings. 

“I did my bathroom the day before,” she noted. 

“What else do you have left to do to make this feel like your home?” he asked, turning his head to her. 

“Eh, I’ll go thrifting with Becca tomorrow probably and find decorations here and there. But considering this place is maybe just two of my bedrooms at mom’s house, I won’t need much,” she shrugged looking at him. “Definitely need to get a plant or two… Or five.”

Bucky shook his head with a grin before moving to envelope her again and pull her into his chest. 

“I feel like everytime I’m going to come over, you’re going to have a new plant.”

“Well…”

“Am I wrong?” 

“No.” 

“You’re a dork,” he laughed, kissing the crown of her head.

“Hey! Plants purify your air and bring joy to my heart. It’s scientifically proven,” she pouted, pulling away enough to see his face. 

“I didn’t know you were part of a science experiment,” he played on. “Would make sense for a lot of things…”

“You little-,” she shoved him away before jumping off the bed and moving to the kitchen. 

“Hey, I’m kidding. I’m kidding,” he laughed slowly chasing after her. “To an extent.”

“Don’t talk to me,” she huffed, going back to her phone to order the pizza. The little pout of her bottom lip just made her all the more cute instead of intimidating though. 

He rolled his eyes as he moved to stand behind her trapping her in her position by the island. His arms holding the counter top on both sides of her body.

“That won’t last long…” he whispered in her ear in just the right voice to make her shiver. 

But she didn’t give in, no matter how bad she wanted to. Two can play this little game. She hit the call button and turned around looking at him. 

Just as she opened her mouth to talk, making it a show and making him think she was about to say something to him, she brought her phone to her ear and answered.

“Hi, I was wanting to place a delivery order,” she said fluttering her eyelashes at Bucky before ducking under his arms and walking away. “Yes, I’m going to do a large pepperoni and a large margarita pizza.” She continued as she aimlessly walked around the flat. 

Bucky shook his head watching her. Before he had the chance to do anything further… Becca came in with a loud huff. 

“Good God. Y/N, you have a hot neighbor!” she shouted and the two turned to her. Bucky with furrowed eyebrows and Y/N with a look showing she was on the phone. “Oop, sorry,” she shrugged with a whisper as she walked to Bucky with a brown paper bag. 

“Hot neighbor?” Bucky asked. 

“Yeah, right next door. I might have to hop on that…” she winked as she started emptying the bag. Random little snacks and bags of candies, probably for their girls night they planned for later that evening. 

“I thought you were dating someone,” Bucky questioned as he grabbed a bag of swedish fish. Becca quickly smacked his hand and sent a warning look. 

“Keep up, Bucky. We stopped dating like a month ago,” she shook her head. 

“Wait, what was his name again? Scotty? Sco-”

“Scott. And yes. We had almost completely different schedules, so it just wasn’t working. Eh, I’m not worried about it. He was a good lay, but I’ll live,” she tilted her head grabbing a bottle of wine and moving to put it up in the fridge. 

“Oh, God. Please don’t tell me about guys you’re sleeping with. I don’t want to hear that,” Bucky squirmed. 

“You’re a child,” she shook her head before turning to Y/N who was walking to the opposite side of the island. “Who was on the phone?”

“Joe. I was ordering some pizza,” she answered. “Sweet guy actually. But what were you talking about when you came in?”

“Oh!” she shouted excited. “You have a hot neighbor!”

“Is that so?” she raised her eyebrows before moving to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. 

“Does that spark an interest in you Y/N/N?” Bucky asked, turning and looking at her with surprise. 

“I’m not talking to you, remember?” she pointed. 

“You just did,” he tilted his head with a sassy smirk. 

Instead of answering, she stuck out her tongue and turned back to Becca. “Elaborate.”

“310D, right to the left of you,” Becca noted. “Longer blonde hair and those damn arms that look like if you wrapped a ribbon around them, it would take a single flex to pop it.”

“Catch a name?” she asked with a laugh. 

“You do realize we’re dating right?” Bucky asked, crossing his arms. 

“No, I didn’t catch it. I was just looking at him before he went into his apartment. I don’t think he even saw me,” Beck continued ignoring her brother. 

“Interesting. You’ll have to figure it out,” she added, taking a swig of water. “Wouldn’t hurt to know the neighbors name.”

“Um, hello…”

“Oh, say less. Don’t have to tell me twice to interact with a perfect specimen of a man,” Becca laughed.

“I feel like I’m invisible,” Bucky mumbled, watching the two start to giggle about whatever telepathic thing they were talking about. 

_________

Steve came back soon after with the drinks, and not even 10 minutes after him, the pizza was delivered. 

They all sat around eating and talking with the limited furniture after Bucky set up the TV, along with Steve yelling at him that it was HDMI 4 not 2. That was a whole fight in itself. 

Steve eventually left around six and Bucky was leaving soon after so the girls could have their first girl night in Y/N’s new apartment. 

That was until Bekah let out a long groan. 

“What?” Y/N asked leaning over for an M&M on the coffee table. 

“One of my classmates just texted me asking about something for an essay I completely forgot I had due. My professor has it due at 8am tomorrow like the crazy person she is,” she sighed, looking at her phone before looking at the couple on the couch she was facing on the floor. “What kind of insane person doesn’t do the midnight deadline? This professor is going to be the death of me.”

“How much of it do you have done?” Bucky asked. 

“That’s the thing,” she said with a wrinkle of her nose. “I completely forgot about it until this text…”

“You haven’t started?” Y/N chuckled, but you could tell she was worried for her friend. 

“No…” Becca replied. “I may or may not have been putting it off and happened to forget it entirely.”

“Let me guess, it’s practically 30% of your grade for the semester?” Y/N said with a raised eyebrow. 

“You know me so well…” she replied with a pathetic smile. “I’m going to have to bail on girls night tonight. Please don’t hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, Beck,” Y/N shook her head. “I get it. I just recently got out of that world, so I know how it goes.”

Bucky watched as the two interacted and laughed at his sister like the annoying big brother he was. 

“Go before you fail the class. We can always reschedule,” Y/N waved off. 

“You sure?”

“Positive. Now go. Every second counts,” she said, standing with Becca as they moved to the door. “Stop by the coffee shop on the way out. Espresso is your friend tonight.”

“Yes ma’am,” Becca saluted as she grabbed her things and stepped out of the apartment. “Oh, and next time I come, I’ll make sure to get hot neighbors name,” she added with a wink. 

“That’s your next homework assignment.”

“Oh, that’s one I won’t be putting off.”

After a head shake to her friend, Becca rushed out of the building off to her own place. Y/N shut and locked the door behind her and walked back into the kitchen. 

“Does that mean we get to have a girls night?” Bucky asked with a smirk. 

“Ha Ha, very funny,” she laughed before falling onto the couch and laying her head in his lap looking straight up at him. “But yeah. I’d like some company first night here. It’s a big emptyish kind of space.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice, doll,” he smiled as he started stroking her hair gently. 

“Oh, hey! I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something,” she noted, readjusting in her spot to see him better. 

“Should I be worried?” he asked is a teasing manner. 

“No,” she chuckled before grabbing his hand and starting her pattern tracing that he learned she loved to do. It was calming is what she had told him. “It’s about Steve.”

“What about Steve?” Bucky asked as he watched her finger tip glide across his palm in a gentle manner, sending shivers up his arm. She was able to do that everytime. 

“Well, you know my host family I talked about?” He hummed as his answer. “So Peggy was the daughter of the people I was staying with. She was about 4 years older than me and kinda turned into my mentor. Badass woman if I might add.”

“I remember you talking about her. From the stories you had, she seems like she can definitely hold her own,” he laughed. “What does she have to do with Steve?”

“I’m getting there, slowly…” she said, adding a dramatic tone to the conversation. Bucky rolled his eyes playfully as he went back to playing with her hair. “Peggy and I talked about her coming here and staying a while. A week or so. Maybe later. However, that was when we were living together and just mapping out times to meet up again. Now, she’s got a job opportunity here and was wanting to come and stay for a little to scope out if she wants it and is willing to make the move to New York possibly.”

“Sounds like a fun plan,” he nodded. “But I’m still waiting on the Steve part.”

“Patience, B. Patience,” she said squeezing his hand slightly. “It has to do with Steve because I think Peggy would be a great match for him.”

“You want to set up your brother?”

“Yes. And if there is anyone in the world that I can think of that can handle his hard head as well as challenge it, it’s Margaret Elizabeth Carter.”

“You know your brother hates when we set him up on dates,” Bucky made note of. “She better be something else if you think it’s going to work out.”

“Oh, Peggy is the definition of something else,” Y/N smirked still concentrated on the lines on his hand.

“Ok, so when is she coming to town?”

“Not sure yet. She’s still waiting to hear back from the agency that she was talking with on a good date for them both. I mean she can always come visit before that, but travel isn’t cheap, so it would be smarter for her to just come when she also has business to attend to.”

“Valid point.”

“So you think it’s a good idea? You wanna join my team to play matchmaker with Stevie?” she asked with that damn grin that got him every time. He just can’t seem to say no to it.

“As much as your brother hates these kinds of things, you seem pretty set on it. So I’m trusting you know what you’re doing,” he smiled, brushing a thumb on her cheek. 

“When do I not know what I’m doing?” she retorted gleefully. 

“Well, there was that one time at Coney Island that you,-” he started, just in an effort to push her buttons. 

“It was a rhetorical question that should not be answered. That is if you want to stay the night,” she said with an attempt of a threatening face. 

“It’s cute you think you have an intimidating stare,” he replied, now pinching her cheek where his thumb was. 

“I can be intimidating,” she sat up with a pout. 

“Sure you can, Y/N/N,” he nodded with a smug grin. “That face exudes intimidation.”

When she actually set in her deathly stare that Bucky had seen when she was upset, he took a step back from his teasing. 

“Ok, I’m kidding now. I know you can do it,” he said with a daunted face. The glower on her own features immediately dropped at getting the reaction from him she wanted and went back to her cute sweet innocent smile. “It’s kinda scary how easily you can flip that switch…”

“It’s a talent. What can I say?” she shrugged with a wink as she stood up and went to make popcorn. “So what movie are we watching tonight?”

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