#I have to get a stupid pap and I really don’t want to

[foldingfittedsheets]

I was gonna say I’m being so brave about going to the doctors alone today but I’m not. I’m dragging my feet and very anxious.

#ramblies #I have to get a stupid pap and I really don’t want to #already got stabbed full of needles on Tuesday for the allergy testing #and my betrothed and I had it scheduled for the same day so we could go together but then our stupid periods ruined that #now I’m aloneeeee

[piratefishmama]

For One Night Only | Part 2

Eddie remembered a lot about Steve Harrington, so to get this fresh new perspective on him… it was wild. He remembered a jock, the king of Hawkins High, the king of Hawkins in general, women wanted him, men wanted to be him, or in some cases men also wanted him. Rich, popular, kind of a jackass at times but never mean enough to warrant dislike. Would have never associated with Eddie’s kind, but yet there he was, comfortable on Eddie’s hotel bed, one long leg crossed over the other as they moved on from pleasantries to business.

Steve wasn’t there as a social call, no matter how fun it might have been to catch up. He had a job to do, and Steve was good at his job.

“Alright, considering our history, or what little of it we have, it might be a good idea to use it if asked on the carpet how we met, I can spin a story about us being secret high school sweethearts who recently reconnected as friends if you want, really big you up to the paps.”

“As lovely as that idea is since high school me would have been thrilled to have been your secret sweetheart” Steve grinned “shut up, I was a nerd with a crush leave me alone” the snigger that followed only made Eddie smile, it wasn’t a hurtful laugh, and Steve’s smile was just to radiant to be mad at. “I said shut up!”

“Shutting up” the smile stayed though as he mimed zipping his lips. Adorable bastard.

“Anyway, as lovely as that idea is, too many people knew us in high school, if the press got word that it was a lie from one of our mutual past acquaintances, eh it’s a hornets nest I don’t wanna poke. Too many what ifs, but we could say that we went to school together, it’s true, we could say that we reconnected recently and… y’know, hit it off…”

“We are hitting it off.” Steve mused, tapping his finger to his chin in thought. “I like it, easy, close to the truth, very little room for mistakes. So I’m to be your date, not just a friend joining you for the evening?” That was what the invite had requested but… Steve was clearly amusing himself by making Eddie squirm a little.

“Mmmhm, yep. Steve Harrington, my date, Can time travel just exist already?”

“Haha, why?”

“Teenage me could do with a visit right this second to tell him Steve Harrington is gonna be our date someday.”

Steve covered his mouth as he laughed so sweetly, the picture of perfection as always. His nose scrunching just a little as he laughed. “Were you always this cute, Eddie?”

“Mmhm, once upon a time, I was even cuter, I swear.”

“I’ll believe you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I know, thousands wouldn’t, but I’ve always been a sucker for cute brunettes with big ol Bambi eyes, can't help but believe everything they say.” Eddie hadn’t felt his cheeks warm in years and yet there he was, hiding behind his hair, his complexion turning as red as a fire hydrant, stupid pale skin.

Speaking of brunettes, and incredibly convenient subject changes for the safety of his own composure. “Wait, YOU’RE who Nancy knows!”

“You know Nance?”

“She’s our manager now, man, gets us all the best shit! I met her in a bar after she totally blew off the journalism thing, something about sexist work environments and bosses who wouldn’t know a real story if it slapped them directly in the face. They kept giving her fluff pieces.” Nancy Wheeler, a fluff writer, the audacity of anyone who ever made that assumption. “Now she’s the most badass manager in metal history. I swear to god she’s made many a producer pale in fear at the very mention of her name.” She read all the fine print, with a goddamn magnifying glass. She’d made a grown men cry multiple times, it was badass. “She’s the coolest.”

Steve’s smile was so fond Eddie could have swooned just having it aimed at him, even if the fondness wasn’t for him, it was beautiful enough for it to be swooned over anyway. “She is, cool. I’m glad she found her people.” Even if they no doubt made a funny looking group, little not so primp and proper Nancy Wheeler among a bunch of metalheads. It fitted, in a strange kind of way, she’d always wrangled Mike easy enough.

“How did you uhm… y’know… it’s probably none of my business and I keep changing subjects so stop me if I keep jumping around I’m still a little flabbergast from seeing you at my door but uh… how’d you—y’know… what’s this uh… the whole thing like?” Steve tilted his head like a confused puppy and Eddie just kind of wanted to melt into the floor. “The escort thing.” He added on, for clarification.

“Oh, uhm. Chrissy? Chrissy Cunningham, cheer captain of ’86?”

“I know her, she and Gareth have this—”

“Thing! Yes, she talks about him regularly with Robin.” Robin? He doesn’t think to ask, Steve and Robin, Robin… who would be associated with Steve a Robin whom Steve would just mention as if expecting him to know. He only knew one Robin from those days, and he didn’t even really know her.

Just kind of… existed near her in band for a few months until his style of music pissed the teacher off enough to kick him out. Couldn’t be that Robin, right? Not important.

“Oh my god don’t tell me that and expect me to keep it a secret that’s brutal of you.”

“God, tell him, please, I didn't even know who he was but she keeps talking about him and waiting for him to ask her out. Eventually she’s just going to pin him against something and kiss him so—”

“Tell her to do that but god wait until I have a camera please!” Eddie Munson was not against begging, his grin wide and eyes shimmering with gleeful mischief. “It’s reciprocated, totally and completely one hundred percent reciprocated, he is so gone on that girl, it’s adorable.”

“I will let her know, at least now I know he's one of yours and a good guy." Gareth was the best guy in Eddie's opinion, like a brother to him, not that the others werent too, but... Gareth had known he was gay since Hawkins High. Just him and Uncle Wayne in the know, and he'd always been there to support him, Gareth was good. "Anyway… we ran into each other in this café that I’d gotten a part time gig at in Indy, she looked good, healthy…” he didn’t need to say that Chrissy had had a problem. But she had, and that problem began with ‘M’ and ended with ‘other,’ hers to be specific. “She was already doing it, loving it, I was dubious, asked if she was okay, if she needed help, but no she was loving it, thriving actually, and well… I like making people feel good, both emotionally and physically” oof that was a tone that went straight to a place it shouldn’t do “why do it for free, y’know? She got me set up and the rest is history.” He enjoyed himself.

He loved his job, his love language had always been acts of service, he liked making people feel good, liked making them feel wanted, feel loved, feel seen and heard. Eddie couldn’t help himself “ever do anything… y’know…?” He really wished he could help himself sometimes.

“Sex related?” The red in his cheeks only deepened, Steve didn’t seem offended, or upset, in fact his smile only warmed, eyes crinkling at the corners, gods above and below he was beautiful, how did anyone survive after a night with him, having to let him go? “Sure, like I said, if I’m good at something, why do it for free?”

“Even with…” Eddie motioned to himself

“You?”

“N-No! No, Men—wait sorry—that’s—that’s none of my business” he turned away to move, to pace, so much energy in his body suddenly there with nowhere to go “none of this is any of my business, I don’t usually ask these kinds of—I mean it’s really wrong of me to even ask this sort of—" Steve was just there so fast, hands on Eddie’s biceps, holding him in place, Eddie hoped he couldn’t feel him almost vibrating out of his skin.

“It’s okay, Bambi” Eddie’s eyes snapped up to meet Steve’s, his wide and unblinking, like a deer in headlights in the face of Steve’s so warm and understanding, Bambi really did suit him, Steve thought, his left hand lifting to rest on Eddie’s cheek as if to ground him, it worked. God it worked. “Ask all the questions you like, but maybe save some for later, we don’t have long before we have to go.”

“…Later you’ll be leaving though...” he didn’t want Steve to leave. He didn’t want his next time seeing Steve to be part of a lottery, would he come next time? Would someone else who Eddie didn’t recognise appear in his place?

“We’re hitting it off, remember? I’m sure there’s going to be an afterparty we can both be caught sneaking away from to hang out, right?” Eddie kind of felt like he was flying. He felt like a teenager again, a nerdy, virginial teenager. He refused to acknowledge that little goblin voice telling him that Steve was actually probably just doing his goddamn job, he was on the clock dammit. He just wanted to have this. “You can ask me questions then, I promise I’ll stay.” He didn’t have anywhere else he needed to be.

“…Yeah… if that’s okay with you.”

“More than. Now how about you introduce me to the rest of Corroded Coffin, we all need to be on the same page before we get there.” Work now, catch up later. “Sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can ditch the after party to hang out.” Eddie giggled, an honest to gods little giggle. He really did feel like a teenager again, only Steve was looking at him. Holding him. Grounding him. Steve Harrington was seeing him.

Teenager Eddie would have shit a brick.

“Alright, I’m warning you though, I think you let Tommy H. stuff Jeff into a locker once so don’t expect a warm welcome.” Steve grimaced a little but nodded. He was a different person now, but that wouldn’t erase the mistakes he’d made as a stupid teenager. Plenty of bridges to rebuild and apologies to give. Jeff wouldn’t be the first or the last.

“Bring it on, Bambi.” Eddie could only hide behind his hair again, bashful and flustered.

Part 4

#For One Night Only #PirateWrites #Steddie #ficlet #Stranger Things #no upside down au #Escort!Steve #Rockstar!Eddie

[jqhotchner]

love of my life

two

harry got the text the moment he finished up filming for the day. he couldn’t believe someone was following them. how dare they invade their privacy like that?

he was pissed. no he was livid! it’s one thing to mess with him. it’s another to mess with his wife, his family!

harry called jeff immediately. he needs to know who was responsible. when jeff finally answered the phone harry completely lost it. jeff knew he wasn’t mad at him.

jeff let him know that they’re getting to the bottom of it and whoever is responsible will be sued as soon as possible.

but harry needed to know what to do from here on out. jeff told him to lay low until the grammy’s. harry just sighed before ending the call.

he turned and was startled by olivia. harry gives her the best smile he could due to the circumstances. olivia was cool. but she was very flirty and touchy with the male cast.

she didn’t know he was married. in fact no one here knew he was married. you and harry only told people who needed to know. and that was mostly his team and a few of his friends he had.

he didn’t know anyone here really, so no one needed to know about you. especially now that you have maybelle.

“everything okay, harry?”

harry nods. “they’re great! did you need anything else from me?”

olivia shakes her head.

“if you don’t mind i have to head home.”

“wait! a few of us are going out. why don’t you join us?”

harry shakes his head politely declining. he needed to get home to you and make sure you and may are okay. he heads to his trailer, grabs his things, and drives home.

when harry gets home he hears you on the phone. he heard your moms voice on the other line and knew you were stressing.

when he makes himself known you tell your mom you’d call her later. harry grabs your hand and kisses the back of it.

“it’s gonna be okay, baby. i promise that we will catch this stupid ass pap and sue him for all he worth.”

you sniffle, burying your head into his chest as he kisses the top of your head.

“im more worried about maybelle. she’s just a baby harry. she doesn’t deserve to be exploited.”

“i know baby. i promise you no matter what may will be protected. they can’t do shit because may’s a minor.”

“i heard some of your fans already found my instagram. it’s private but im still worried. what if someone hacks it? there are some photos of may. should i delete them just in case?”

harry hums. “i think you should, babe. just to be safe.”

you nod. grabbing your phone and opening your instagram. deleting the four photos of your daughter you close the app and plop down on the couch.

the aftermath of everything was hectic. so many rumors were going around. especially since they found your instagram.

they called you a cheater because of your current bio. they called you a slut, whore, bitch. any name in the book. you tried not to let the comments get to you, you tried to keep up the charade, but harry could see right through it.

he honestly had enough. you deserved to get out of this house and enjoy yourself. maybe call up a few girlfriends so you could get your mind off of everything.

when he brought up the idea you shook your head. not wanting to risk being caught again. you’d rather suffer inside your own home.

but your husband wasn’t having it. he called up a few of your friends and told them to come over to get you ready for a girls night.

reluctantly you went. and you had an amazing night. going to the spa, going shopping, buying cute little clothes for maybelle. you felt happier. obviously still not feeling too great.

you kept looking over your shoulders to make sure no one was following you. but you still felt a bit more relaxed.

unfortunately that didn’t last when you got home. you saw jeffs car parked and knew this couldn’t be good news.

when you got into the house your suspicion were confirmed. harry was yelling loudly. you frowned even more when you saw olivia wilde was standing right beside jeff with a small smile on her face.

“i said no, jeff!”

“come on harry. this will be good for you. you could still keep your life a secret from the world and just state she’s a family friend who was struggling with something. then just show up with olivia here and there and no one will have to know about yn or may.”

harry shakes his head angrily. he couldn’t even believe what jeff was suggesting. he’s never been one to lie to his fans. not like this anyway! but he knew he wanted to keep the both you and maybelle safe.

he just knew this would hurt you. and that’s the last thing he wanted to do.

“we can figure something else out, jeff. i can’t put yn through that. she doesn’t deserve—”

“it’s okay, harry. i agree with jeff.” you made yourself known. everyone heads turned to you.

“baby, you don’t have to do this. i know you’ll be very uncomfortable.”

“im a grown up. i could handle it. its for may. we have to keep her out of the spotlight for as long as we can.”

harry sighs as he grabs his wife’s hand. he kisses the back of it before looking at jeff and olivia.

“fine! but two years, two years and that’s it. im not gonna hurt my wife for longer than that. do you both understand?”

they nod. jeff grabs the paper work and has both harry and olivia sign the contract. when everything was finished he holds you as jeff and olivia leave.

“you sure about this baby?”

you hum into his chest. “it’s just two years, yeah? and then we can go back to just being us. you, me, and may.”

“maybe another baby, huh?” you could practically hear the smirk. giggling into his chest you look up at your husband as he kisses you gently

god, seeing harry pictures at jeffs wedding made you a tiny bit jealous. he was gorgeous! so was olivia. seeing them holding hands though triggered you a bit.

you knew it was all to keep your identity a secret. but, damn! did you want to be the one holding his hand at that very moment.

sometimes you wondered if keeping your marriage a secret was worth it. you wished you could be the one holding his hand. but you also loved that you were able to hide your relationship this long.

you weren’t ashamed of being harry’s wife. your husband was hot! you could never be ashamed of harry. but you liked it just being you and him. you and harry in your little bubble who created your own beautiful daughter.

“babe?”

lost in your train of thought you didn’t even realize harry had just got out of the shower. a towel wrapped around his waist. you smiled at him lovingly.

“you okay, darling?”

you hum, lifting yourself up as you walked over to your husband and wrap her arms around him. kissing him passionately.

harry hums through the kiss. he pulls away and smirks. “what’s gotten into you?”

“nothing! just love you so much.”

harry caresses your cheek. he looks deep into your eyes. staring at you like you were the only woman to exist. and to him you were. you meant absolutely everything to him and he’d tell you time and time again.

“i love you too.”

today had been one whole year since your daughter was born. you couldn’t believe that she had been here a whole year.

you and harry planned a big party! you knew she didn’t know what was going on but she loved the attention. all of your friends and family surrounded her and showered her in kisses.

but she was one hundred percent a daddy’s girl. as soon as harry would pick her up and kiss her cheek she’s screamed happily.

her gummy smile was so adorable. maybelle made your heart sore every single time she smiled. she was definitely a happy baby!

“dada.”

harry chuckles as he kisses her forehead. “how’s my birthday girl, huh?”

“dada, cake!?”

“oh? my girl wants another piece of cake huh? gotta ask mama.”

“mama, cake?”

you giggle. “i guess. but only a small piece baby. don’t want you getting a tummy ache, yeah?”

you cut a small piece of cake. harry sits her down as you set the plate next to her. you feed her as she babbles.

you hum, pretending to understand every word she’s saying. everyone takes pictures of her. she smiles as she notices the flashes.

a few hours later everyone leaves while you and harry clean up.

“alright baby. you ready for bath time?”

“Bubbles?”

“yes, baby. bubbles.”

you head upstairs to start maybelle’s bath. harry ends up getting a phone call from olivia. he sighs.

it’s been eight months of being with olivia. she seems to always need something from harry. it was frustrating the both of you. it was almost like she didn’t understand this was all just to keep his family safe and private.

harry ignores her call, he heads upstairs to your shared bedroom, and hears his daughter babble as she splashes water.

harry laughs as he walks into the bathroom. “how are my three favorite girls doing?” harry asked as he looks at his daughter, bends down, and kisses your bump.

he was so excited to be having another baby with you. always wanting a big family.

“dada!”

“we’re great.”

and you were. you were very great. happy everything seemed to be in place despite everything you felt at peace.

if anyone wants to be added to the taglist just let me know! i hope you enjoyed. more to come

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x black!reader #harry styles x you #harry smut #harry styles fake ig #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles #jqhotchner #love of my life jq

[ramblingoak]

Feeling Blah

This is just a quick lil thing for my friend @writingjourney 💙💙

Papa Emeritus IV x GN Reader ~ Your Papa helps you when you're feeling 'blah' (no warnings except for fluff, sfw, not proofread sorry)

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

You heard his singing before the door opened, ‘Rats’ like always.  He liked to time his arrival perfectly so that as soon as he swung the door open he started in on the chorus. Normally you joined in, dancing around and wobbling your asses until you both were laughing too hard you couldn’t sing anymore. Tonight though you didn’t have the energy and stayed in the same place you’d been since you got home.

Which was laying on the floor by the bed.

“'Them ra'—dolcezza?”  His steps froze for a moment when he entered the bedroom but soon you heard his robes swish as he came to your side.  “Amore mio, are you alright?  Did you fall?”

“I’m fine, Papa.”

“Ok but…you’re on the floor.”

“I know.”

“Do you uh, do you want to get up?”

“Not really.” 

You watched as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth and wrung his hands together before he spoke again.

“Is there a reason you’re on the floor?”

“Yeah, I dropped my sock.”  You held your hand up, the offending sock gripped tightly in your fist. “Then I just…sat down?  And a bit after that I just decided to lay here.”

“Because of the sock?”

“Not just the sock. I feel, oh I don’t know Copia.  It’s hard to explain.”  It also felt stupid now with your handsome Papa standing over you. You could see the worry on his face and the poor man had enough to deal with running the abbey. Now he has to come home to you acting weird.

“Dolcezza, you can tell me anything. You know this, si?” 

“Yes, Papa.”  You took a deep breath and tried to think about how to word what was going on in your head. “Sometimes I just feel…blah.”

“Blah?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t...what does this ‘blah’ mean?”

“It’s hard to explain, Papa.  I just lose the energy to do anything.  Even basic stuff is impossible to do.”  You took another deep breath, but this one was more to try to prevent yourself from crying.  Copia didn’t need to be burdened with this nonsense.  “I’m sorry Papa.”

“No no, you don’t need to apologize for how you’re feeling.”  He sat down next to you on the floor, his glittering robes looking out of place on the drab carpet.  One of his gloved hands came over and grasped your hand that was still holding the sock.  “Your Papa is home now and I’m not going to let you feel ‘blah’ alone.” 

“Pap—Copia!  What are you doing?”  The man didn’t answer, instead he situated himself on his back alongside of you. He was still holding your hand (and your sock) and he gave it a quick squeeze.

“We can be ‘blah’ together, amore.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling a few tears slip down your cheeks. They didn’t make it very far before you felt warm leather catch them. When you opened your eyes his mismatched ones were looking at you with such affection that you couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Thank you, Copia.”  You shifted closer to him, moving your head so it rested on his shoulder.  “Do you wa—“

“Shh, I can’t be ‘blah’ if you’re talking.” 

“Oh. Sorry.” 

“It’s fine, you’re new at this.”  You snorted and buried your face into the material of his robe.  “Make sure you tell me next time you feel this way, eh?” 

“Okie dokie, Papa.”

“I think it’s best if we face this 'blah' together from now on.”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

my masterlist

my ao3

#my fics #my writing #oakie drabble #papa emeritus iv x reader #copia x reader #the band ghost fanfiction #copia fanfiction #papa emeritus iv fanfiction #papa emeritus iv x gn reader #copia x gn reader #papa emeritus x reader #the band ghost fanfic #papa emeritus iv fanfic #copia fanfic

[blainesebastian]

coffee cart girl (pt10)

words: 6,653 ship: austin x female reader summary: you’re the coffee runner on the set of Elvis. Coffee deliveries run pretty easy, until Austin accidently spills coffee on you. notes: well this is it! the last part of CCG :) previous parts under this tag!  warnings: sexual instances, but pretty SFW  tag list: under the cut! sorry if links aren’t working, refer to the link above if needed.

A lot can happen in a short amount of time. Lately, you feel as if you understand this better than anyone.

Elvis has been out in theaters for about two weeks and it’s been an endless, revolving door of good chaos since then. Austin’s booked for interviews, events, talk shows, and auditions. Some things you go with him to, either by specific invite or by him including you as his date. It’s been one hell of an experience but you’ve still managed to keep a low profile, or as low as possible, Austin doing his best to also shield you from becoming saturated in his world.

Your name is out there—it’s on articles, pap photographs, social media. You’ve had to turn your profile private to gain a little sanity until you figure out what you want to do. There’s an influx of followers, DMs, and you know it has nothing to do with you but rather wanting the attention of Austin through you. You juggle everything you can, you’re beyond happy for Austin’s accomplishments and don’t regret a single decision you’ve made.

But sometimes it can get a little overwhelming, especially when you allow yourself to go down the black hole of online commentary.

Sometimes it’s unavoidable, as much as you try to. Your scrolling feed is constantly taken up by candid photos of you and Austin—some fan accounts, some decidedly not. Some people are so kind—raining compliments on you, your relationship, and Austin’s role as Elvis. Even though you don’t require anyone’s approval, you have to admit that it…sometimes feels nice to see things like that? Which means, on the opposite end of the spectrum, it feels just as terrible when nasty things are said.

With your name being out there, people dig into your past, into anything they can find about you—there’s a lot of shit talking about how Austin is too good for you and that he shouldn’t be stooping to a lower level to date someone below him. It’s utterly ridiculous, you know that—these comments come from vile emotions and jealousies and it’s so stupid to even give it an inkling of your time.

But you’re human and words hurt.

Sometimes you really miss the privacy of those early days when it was just you and Austin hiding out in his trailer between coffee deliveries on set.

You can hear Austin get off the phone with Baz in the other room of your apartment, making his way back to being in bed with you. You’re lying on your stomach, pillow underneath your arms as you feel the mattress dip. Exhaustion is pulling at your nerve endings, making the words you’ve read hit a bit harder than maybe they usually would. You can feel Austin pause a moment, maybe seeing the screen of your phone before you set it down on the nightstand. He mimics those actions with his own phone, a sigh leaving his mouth as his body blankets yours.

Sandalwood mixed with his own scent slips over you as his arms wrap around your shoulders. You sniffle, wiping your face with one hand as his body completely maps along yours under the covers. He’s quiet, his hand working along your shoulders before he presses a kiss to the back of your head.

“I really wish you wouldn’t look at that crap.” He says softly, voice a deep timbre, comforting.

The weight of his body is warm and you turn your head a little as his lips brush along your temple, moving to press a few kisses down your cheek and along your jawline.

“I know,” You whisper, “Can’t always avoid it.”

Austin’s quiet for a few moments, mostly just the sound of your shared breathing, his hand working through your hair while the other creates a circle of movement from rubbing along your arm to squeezing your shoulder blade.

“Remember what I told you the first time this happened?” He asks.

You swallow over the lump in your throat but there’s a ghost of a smile on your lips. You sniffle again, wiping a tear track off your cheek before nodding, “You and me.”

“Only opinions that matter,” Austin nods, squeezing you. “I know it hurts, m’not saying you can’t be upset by it, but they don’t know you.”

You let that settle inside you for a few moments before shifting underneath him. He leans up so you can more easily move your body, lying on your back to look up at him. Austin lays down beside you, on his side, his one leg entangling it with yours as his hand rests along your stomach. Keeping himself propped up on his other arm, he looks down at you, some of his blondish curls resting over his forehead.

“But you do?” You ask, reaching out to touch one of them with your fingers.

He smirks lightly, his hand moving from your torso to run his thumb along your lower lip. “Like to think I do at this point,” Your press a kiss to the pad of his thumb, “Your nose crinkles when you’re mad about somethin’ trivial—like when they got rid of that alien movie on Netflix that you were watchin’.”

You roll your eyes, “I wasn’t finished with it yet—”

He continues, a small smile on his lips, “You’re obsessed with fish at aquariums which…I find kinda weird yet endearing at the same time. You drink your coffee with too much cream, you got one ticklish spot along your lower back, and I’m pretty sure you could eat a whole carton of mint-chocolate ice cream if given the chance.”

You laugh softly, your cheeks splotching pink even though you’re totally not ashamed of your quirks…and it seems like Austin isn’t either. He knows you, sees you, even darker parts that you sometimes don’t want to claim, but he doesn’t look away.

There’s just…this almost overwhelming feeling in your chest, exploding warmth that seems to touch every part of you as Austin talks. You love him—the words rest on your tongue but dart to hide underneath it. You’re not sure you can say it outloud, not yet.

“You could eat a whole carton of ice cream too,” You tease, playing with his hair again, “I dunno why you’re puttin’ that all on me.”

Austin chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest and vibrating gently against your body. Cupping his cheek, you lean up to kiss him, drawing him down until he’s lined up perfectly against you. Some things are just automatically going to hurt, people are going to say things they got no business saying—but the point is? You can’t let it change you.

Drawing your hands up and under his shirt, he leans up lightly to take it off, tossing it aside. He’s read your mind, smiling as you nip at his lower lip, this thin gold chain he’s been wearing around his neck dangling over you as your lips are joined together once again. Neither of you can keep your hands off eachother, mouths moving quicker as breathing picks up, a soft moan leaves your throat as you feel him roll his hips down into yours. Clearly that’s his intention because there’s a soft smirk pulling at the edges of his mouth,

“Don’t tease.” You mumble and he hums in response.

He peppers kisses along your jawline and neck as more layers of clothes are removed between you, his fingers slipping between your legs and carefully working you open before he slides inside. There’s a moment of no movement, just clutching one another, a harsh breath leaving your lips as your legs wrap around him. He holds himself up so he’s not crushing you, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth before he begins to move.

There’s no drawing this out, you both know what the other needs and wants, your back arching slightly as his hips roll down. Clutching at his back, your breath stuttering in your throat, your eyes squeeze shut when his hand moves down between you, finding a bundle of nerves with his fingertips. Pleasure rolls into your body like a drug, slow at first and then quick and steady, his own following.

Once your bodies stop moving, a thin sheen of sweat sticking to skin, you reach up and run your thumb along his jawline, kissing him gently. Your fingers move into his hair, drawing it away from his face as he moves to lie down beside you.

There’s a mixture of emotions resting at the bottom of your ribcage and you know it has everything to do with endorphins heightening how you feel. Or maybe that’s not quite fair or accurate—you’ve been with Austin for a decent amount of time now, friendly a lot longer than that, you’ve come to know him as he knows you. So it’s not quite out of the blue for you to say,

“I love you.” And the skin on your chest splotches pink as you look away. You don’t want to take it back but you suddenly feel the need to explain or oversimplify, “Must be all that talk about ice cream and the uh—orgasm didn’t hurt.”

Austin smirks, cupping both sides of your face with his hands. He leans close, waiting until your gaze meets his, “Love you too baby.” He mumbles, his voice reaching deep in your chest and squeezing. You roll your eyes a little at the pet name but you’re smiling.

Falling asleep next to him has never felt so good.

--

Lingering in Austin’s kitchen in a pair of soft shorts and one of his t-shirts, you lean against the counter with your hair back in a messy bun. You’ve made these ginger molasses cookies that are totally out of season but one of your favorite things to pull the ingredients together for. The icing is addictive and you’re currently licking it off a spoon while waiting for the tester cookie in the oven. There’s an Elvis record playing in the background because ever since you saw the film, you can’t quite get some songs out of your head.

And there’s a ninety percent chance that if an Elvis song is playing around Austin, sometimes he sings along…and that’s a treat for everyone involved.

Speaking of, as you check the time, he should be headed home soon after another late-night talk show interview. You were supposed to come with to linger in the audience or backstage but a migraine hit you at the last moment—you’re definitely feeling a lot better but kinda bummed that you missed seeing him in one of his elements.

He just carries those interviews with such a matter of charisma, grace, and humbleness that it’s sort of addictive to watch. Not even to mention his handsome, boyish smiles, and the easy way he handles so many conversations.

The oven dings and you move to take the test cookie out, setting it on a plate on the stove as you hear the front door open and close. Looking over your shoulder, you smile as Austin wanders into the kitchen, dressed in a sharp navy-blue suit, black-mesh button down shirt underneath. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the way your heart skitters in your chest or your stomach flutters when you see him,

“Cookies?” He asks before you hum in response.

Austin puts a shopping bag down onto the counter, moving around the island table to lean down and press a kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes, leaning into the touch as he cups your cheek,

“You feelin’ better?”

“Less like my head might explode, so yes,” You lick your lips, pushing yourself up onto your toes to kiss him properly.

Austin uses that time to sneak his hand along the plate in front of you to steal this cookie and you push him slightly with your body to pin him to the counter, playfully tapping his wrist with the spatula you’re holding.

“Really?”

There’s a cheeky smile there already on his lips, “C’mon, I want somethin’ sweet.”

“I can give you something sweet.” You flirt in response and he smirks. Before you can even do anything about it, he lifts you up to sit on the counter. “Hey!” Laughing, “The cookies need to go in the oven, no time for this.”

Austin moves to pick up the tray you’re referring to, putting it in the oven. He tries to return to you but you’re motioning for the timer, in which he huffs and sets the desired time before moving to slip between your legs. You’re almost the same height now, your hands falling to his shoulders to feel the fabric of his suit jacket.

“I’m sure you were causin’ riots in this mesh shirt you got on.”

His cheeks turn the softest of pinks, shaking his head as he dips his chin down a little to press a kiss to your fingertips once he lifts one of your hands. “Was only thinkin’ about one girl’s opinion.”

You hope he knows he doesn’t have to do that—you trust him around fans and other people even though you can’t deny the heat that slips into your belly when he says stuff like that. “Well I can definitely help you take it off—that’s one of my first opinions about it.”

Austin hums, at the very least sliding off the suit jacket and setting it along the back of a chair within arm’s reach; that’s nice of him. “Now all of a sudden we’re not worried about the cookies?” He teases, clasping your chin and leaning down to press a quick kiss before pulling back a little. “I do got somethin’ I want to tell you.”

You pout a little to which he smirks and thumbs over your lower lip.

“Good and bad news—what do you want first?”

Blegh, that instantly makes you feel uneasy. The look on his face isn’t giving terribly awful vibes? So hopefully whatever he’s got to tell you isn’t life shattering. You crinkle your nose,

“Uh, I dunno—good? No wait. Bad—I want bad first.”

He smirks lightly before nodding—there’s a dramatic pause and you’re almost ready to smack his chest, “Store was out of those mini muffins you like, checked before I came home—”

You gasp out a laugh, playfully swatting his shoulder which makes Austin laugh too, “Is that seriously the bad news? Jesus, Austin.”

“Good news?” He doesn’t miss a beat, leaning forward to hold your gaze, his hands resting on your thighs. “I handed off your script to Baz and he has a producer who wants to work with you.”

It takes a moment for the information to register, slowly blinking at him because…no, really?

“Seriously?” You ask quickly, “Like—for real?”

Austin smiles because, “I’m not gonna joke about somethin’ like that, Y/N.”

A sharp sound leaves your lips, a grin breaking out onto your face until you’re throwing yourself forward into Austin’s arms. It’s slightly too fast and awkward but he catches you, a chuckle rumbling in his chest as he holds you close. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, squeezing so tight, his cologne mixing with the smell of ginger cookies in a ridiculously delicious way.

There’s so much excitement bubbling up in your chest that you barely register when Austin puts you back down on the ground, cupping your cheeks with both his hands. He’s smiling down at you, his nose crinkling from pure affection,

“I’m so proud of you.” He says and it makes a lump appear in your throat that you quickly swallow over. He peppers a few kisses on your face as the oven dings that the cookies are ready.

Today’s a pretty perfect day.

--

He’s late.

In hindsight, you maybe shouldn’t have shown up to the bar you are supposed to meet at ten minutes early but it was one of those things where you didn’t have much to do at home other than to get ready for your night out. Austin has been knee-deep in interviews lately, sometimes about Elvis, sometimes figuring out what his next project is—you know he’s been stretched a little thin, running around places and still at the same time supporting what you got going on with this script.

It's in early development stages and you’re trying not to get too ahead of yourself but…you’re pretty certain something legit is going to come out of this. Only a matter of time, effort and discussions. You let out a slow breath to settle your nerves that always stir up when you begin thinking about it. The point is tonight to meet up with Austin, have a few drinks, dinner…see what else happens.

Both of you have been busy lately, which isn’t bad? But you definitely miss him. That’s supposed to be the whole goal of tonight’s date—spend time, carve out a small part of the world for yourselves and you alone.

Except he’s late and it only starts to bother you when ten minutes turns into twenty and the only text back you have from him when you say I’m gonna start drinking without you is, sorry xo.

Sighing, you turn towards the bartender and order another house margarita, stirring the giant ice cube with a lime slice in your empty glass. You’re not one to get too bogged down in what you’re wearing but you were even a bit pleased with the little black dress you decided to put on tonight—long mesh sleeves, a slit up the leg, conforming to your curves but not constricting. Austin’s just one of those people that looks good no matter what he’s wearing.

You’re trying not to be annoyed with him, you know he’d be on time if he could be. You just don’t want this to become some sort of pattern and at the very basic level, you miss him.

You stretch your legs, checking the time again as you stand from the bar stool.

“Don’t tell me someone stood you up.”

You turn a little to see some guy settle in a chair near yours, leaning against the bar. He looks about your age, handsome, but not your type—a bit too muscular along the shoulders and upper arms. He’s not as aggravating as his question and part of you wishes you could just ignore it somehow,

“No,” You smile politely even though you kinda want to grit your teeth, “My boyfriend’s just late.”

He lets out a slow breath, “Well good thing—I was gonna say, pretty thing like you? Somethin’ wrong with the world if you’re gettin’ stood up.”

You suppose there’s a compliment in there somewhere but the last thing you want to do is acknowledge it. You already know that this guy definitely has one of those borderline personalities where you give them an inch and they walk all over you. There’s gonna be no misinterpretations here that you somehow invited an extra bout of friendliness from him.

You just wish Austin was here.

Despite not much feedback from you, the guy moves over a chair, ordering a beer from the bartender. “Can I uh—buy you that drink?” He offers to the one delivered by the bartender, taking the empty glass.

You blink because—persistent, before shaking your head. “No thank you.”

“C’mon,” He reaches out to touch your arm and great, it’s gonna be one of those nights, “Just one drink—who’s that gonna hurt?”

You pull your arm free and are about to say something, taking a step back from him when you collide with someone behind you. It’s Austin, you know that almost automatically before he even speaks—the scent of his cologne mixed with the stance of his body along your back. He’s got one hand on the bar, almost creating a cage around your form,

“She’s good, pretty sure she was clear the first time.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek and definitely feel a small amount of relief that he’s there, the warmth of his body pressed against your own, his height working in advantage over the guy who’s sitting. He rolls his eyes but seems a bit nervous, picking up his drink and getting up from his chair,

“Maybe teach your girl not to practically ask for company when you’re not around, man.”

Austin goes rigid, you can feel it before glancing up at his face. The muscle in his jaw works as his eyes dip a little darker blue, ice, and you put your hand on his chest to prevent him from walking forward as the other guy moves away.

“Don’t,” You say gently, “He’s not worth it.”

Once you’re sure Austin isn’t going anywhere, you run a hand through your hair and glance over the light grey suit he’s wearing paired with a soft white button-down shirt underneath, little bit open like he used to wear the lace shirts on set. He looks good but it’s also clear he didn’t go home between the interview and coming to the bar—straight here.

“It would have been worth it,” Austin adds after a moment, “Trust me.”

And while the sentiment is there and you are happy to see him, you can’t stop the swirl of irritation from snaking up from inside your chest and slipping out of your mouth, “He wouldn’t have even said anything to me if he hadn’t noticed I was sitting at the bar alone for a half n hour.”

You regret the tone of your voice the moment the words come out of your mouth, a soft sigh following because that is…not how you want to convey your frustration. Or it be one of the first things you say to him. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you turn to look at him and that comment definitely sets his teeth on edge.

“I got here as soon as I could.”

This…you do not want to have a fight about this, “I know.” The last thing you want to do is somehow make him feel bad for something out of his control but you’re also unnerved that this random guy got under your skin and—and Austin just so happened to show up at the right time. What if he hadn’t?

“I don’t think you do,” Austin replies and his voice has a bit more of a twang to it, because he’s upset, those Elvis adoptions not completely able to melt away from him. “You think I didn’t want to be here when I said I was gonna be? That I don’t—miss you because my schedule’s gotten a bit more hectic?”

You shake your head, your eyebrows drawing together, “No, of course not—I never said that.”

“You don’t have to, it’s on your face.”

A scoff leaves your lips, you don’t like the feeling of being talked down to, “Well what—I’m just supposed to magically adapt to you being late all the time? And I’m not talking about five minutes every so often, Austin, it’s getting worse. This time was a half n hour, last week I was sitting at a restaurant for an hour.”

“I apologized for that—”

“And I’m not holding it against you,” You state, wanting to make sure that’s clear. You’re only bringing it up because he is, “I get being pulled in multiple directions, trying to figure out what way is up.”

You empathize with that, you really do—you know that the experience is once in a lifetime and that he’s really reaping the benefits of all the hard work he’s put in for over two years for this role. But that doesn’t mean that now that the film is over that his life is any less demanding. You understand, you’re proud of him, but you’re also…trying to figure out where you fit into his life.

You’re a priority, right?

“Right well, it’s a bit more complicated than just deliverin’ coffee on set all day, Y/N.”

Ouch.

You stare at him for a moment, unsure of what to say—you know that probably wasn’t supposed to come out as it did. It takes a few moments for Austin’s facial expression to shift, frustrated and angry to gentle regret. He swallows, looking away from you as he shakes his head. His fingers tap along the bar as an uncomfortable silence sits on both your chests, cinderblocks.

Austin’s eyebrows draw together before he lets out a soft sigh, running a hand over his face before lingering along his jawline. In thought, thumb along his lower lip before he finally speaks,

“Shit—I’m sorry.”

Deep down, you know that, he’d never hurt you on purpose. But that doesn’t change the fact that it did hurt.

You clear your throat, pushing your hair over your shoulder. “I’m gonna head home.” Because despite waiting for him and wanting to see him, the last place you want to be right now is at this bar.

“Y/N.” Austin tries, reaching for your elbow even as you pull away and head straight for the door, “Please lemme just—” He’s never really stumbled over his words before but he seems to be struggling to find the right ones to get you to stay.

And you especially, for the first time, don’t feel like being out on a date with him.

--

Getting a shower and into a pair of comfy joggers, you top it all off with an oversized t-shirt, which may or may not be one of Austin’s. Pushing your damp hair out of your eyes, you know that you probably shouldn’t have just left him at the bar like that. No more runnin’ away—and yet, there had been so much pulling at you from every angle you just didn’t know how to balance being there. You run a hand over your face, plopping onto the couch. Just bad communication throughout. Maybe it was wrong of you to feel sensitive about the whole ‘coffee cart’ thing—he wasn’t exactly wrong; Austin does have more complicated responsibilities than that. But at the same time, he once made you feel that every job was important on set, no matter what it was. Doesn’t that still apply?

There’s an insecurity there of being with him, of not measuring up, and unknowingly he’s jabbed a nerve, pulled the scab off new and still healing skin.

Just when your cat jumps onto the couch for pets, a small smile tugging the corners of your face as he rolls onto his back to expose his belly, there’s a knock at your door. You wonder if it might be Jillian—you’d given her bare minimum texts about your fight (fight? Is that what it was?) and she’s probably dying for details, or she’s worried.

Regardless, you open the door without looking to see who it is.

And it’s Austin.

He’s leaning against the doorframe, freshly showered and in a pair of light blue jeans with a simple white t-shirt. Your body reacts so easily to him—heart skipping a beat, stomach fluttering, feeling lighter somehow even though it goes against what your gut is telling you.

“Hey,” He clears his throat, “Can I uh—” Austin motions to the inside of your apartment and you chew on the inside of your cheek, nodding before opening the door further so he can step inside.

Suddenly feeling a bit overwhelmed, you begin shaking your head before Austin even has a chance to say anything. The thing with memory and recalling past conversations is that is sometimes always feels worse than it actually was—you don’t want to fight with him, not about this.

“It’s—” You let out a soft sigh, “Look, don’t worry about what happened, okay?”

“Don’t do that,” Austin interrupts gently, almost talking over the last half of your sentence. He reaches out to touch your elbow, drawing you a bit closer, “I shouldn’t have said what I did, I was bein’ an asshole. Was worked up with other things and I took it out on you.”

And you get that—that’s something he doesn’t need to explain. It’s been a constant conversation since you’ve met him, a transparency about the work and life balance struggle, the fact that he’s getting pulled in so many directions and experiences. The events and encounters themselves are not bad things but…Austin’s human and he’s juggling so many plates that some of them are beginning to slip from his grasp and shatter on the floor.

He was frustrated within itself that he was late to meet you, and you approached that with the same level of irritation instead of support. Just like you shouldn’t have bottled up your concerns about seeing him less and less—you miss him, that’s natural. But you don’t want him to think that you have to pick and choose; being a couple, or honoring successes. That’s never been who you are together.

It’s a testament, really, how well you two communicate over the course of your relationship because if it breaks down, even once? Everything begins to fray at the edges and fall apart.  

Taking a step closer to him, you reach up to cup his cheek. His hair is slightly more springy because it’s still damp, big golden curls that hang loose over his forehead. He’s got a spackle of beauty marks along his one cheekbone and you can’t help but run your thumb over them. Austin turns his head a bit into the touch, pressing a kiss to your palm.

“I should have been clearer too—I got snappy about you bein’ late because I miss you.”

He smiles a little, nodding, “That guy bein’ there really didn’t help.”

A soft laugh leaves your lips, shaking your head. Then you tip your chin up to look at him, a bit of a deviousness in your eyes as you say, “Actually I was gonna let him buy me a drink soon, he was wearin’ me down. That wouldn’t have been okay with you?”

Austin quickly wraps you up in his arms, keeping you close, a laugh skittering out of your chest at his insistence. “No,” He leans down and brushes your lips together, voice an octave deeper somehow, “That wouldn’t have been okay with me.”

Smiling, you push yourself up on your toes and kiss him, his arms slowly squeezing as he moves to plant a kiss on your forehead, the bridge of your nose and finally the corner of your lips.

“M’sorry,” He repeats quietly, nearly a whisper.

You smile a little and nod, “You’re forgiven.” You promise.

Austin picks you up in a flourish, taking you to the couch to lay down, laughing echoing against the apartment walls. It may not be an outing at a bar or restaurant, but it turns out your night is even better than what you had planned.

--

Letting out a slow breath, you attempt to keep your hands from shaking as you walk down the street with Austin towards a bistro. You’re meeting this producer, Max, that Baz has so graciously given your script to and he’s agreed to further the conversation—whatever that may mean. Could mean nothing or…could mean everything. You may not have the full story yet but at least you know that this isn’t some favor that your actor boyfriend got for you—he may have passed along your script but it’s your words and work that has gotten you this far.

You just keep needing to remind yourself about that…you deserve to be here, to be taken seriously, seen.

While you’re in a red, flowy, polka dot dress that sits right above your knees, Austin is in a pair of dark jeans, an olive-colored t-shirt and an open denim material button down. He’s not going into the bistro with you, just walking you there for moral support. And damn, do you need it. Every so often you can feel Austin’s hand squeeze yours, his thumb working back and forth over your knuckles and fingers.

“You know you don’t have to be nervous, right?” Austin asks, voice slightly teasing, “The hard part’s over—he read your script.”

“I am…totally not nervous.” You huff out which only makes him chuckle.

He’s about to say something else when a small group of girls that exits the coffee shop that you both cross in front of recognize Austin. There are just these moments of sound—gasping, giggling, excitement. It’s one of those things where, if Austin didn’t want to be bothered, he could definitely just bypass it because there are no words coming out of these girl’s mouths. Even with a more defined reaction, he could just walk on by with you.

But he doesn’t because that’s not who Austin is. He recognizes the reactions almost immediately and slows down, turning towards the noises with kind smiles. Once he makes eye contact, the words come pouring out—

“Oh my god!” “Hi, can we please get some photos with you?” “I loved you in Elvis, you were amazing, I remember I watched The Carrie Diaries and you were great there too—” Just voices overlapping over the other even though they’re attempting to talk in a calm and collected manner.

You let go of Austin’s hand so he has free range to pose for selfies, other photos and sign random napkins and coffee cups that the girls are holding. It’s hard not to smile as you watch the interactions—Austin has always been so genuine, he takes the time to talk to people, carves five minutes out of his day to ask the girls their names and how their day is. Not many celebrities, let alone just people in general, are so willing to offer that to others.

It's one of the things you really love about him.

“We gotta get going guys but thank you so much,” Austin backs up, reaching for your hand again, “It was really nice talkin’ to all of you.”

The girls glance over at you, kind smiles, one of them waving while another thanks you for stopping. It kind of floors you because Austin’s capable of handling these situations however he wants, but…you have to admit, it’s nice being considered. You offer your own goodbyes before you and Austin begin walking down the street again, only a block away from the bistro.

“They were really nice.” You muse and Austin nods.

“More often than not, they’re really great.” He means fans in general and then looks over at you, “You were pretty great too.”

A soft laugh leaves your lips because you know he means just being patient with the whole fan thing. Honestly if people are respectful and polite, the fan experience is a wonderful thing to witness. Not to mention you consider yourself one of them, a fan of Austin’s, it’s how this whole thing started.

Slowing down outside the bistro, Austin turns to look at you, a gentle laugh rumbling in his chest. “You’re tellin’ me you’re not nervous? You’re shakin’ like a leaf.”

You let out a long breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in, looking into the bistro windows and then back up at Austin. Your heart is definitely hammering in your ears at this point and your hands have slipped to rest along his waist, almost holding onto him like a lifeline.

“Alright, well maybe just a little.”

He shakes his head, smiling a little as he slips off his denim button down to drape over your shoulders. The lingering scent of his cologne and warmth of his skin does end up making you feel slightly calmer.

“Just take a deep breath, hmm?” He suggests and you do that, it helps a little. Then he realizes there’s another approach he can take.

Austin leans down to press a kiss to your lips and somewhere in your general vicinity, you hear the shutter of a camera going off. You’ve learned not to bristle and in this case? Embrace it. Your relationship has come a long way from that first photo taken of you two in the parking lot of that taco restaurant, your first date. So instead of shying away, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and keep him close.

He smirks, you can feel it against your lips as he continues to kiss you, cupping your cheek and running his thumb along your jawline. You can hear a few more photos being taken but there’s a confidence this time in who you are, your relationship and what you want that sits warmly in your belly.

It feels good.

When the kiss naturally ends, Austin smiles down at you, brushing his lips along the bridge of your nose before taking a step back, “You’re gonna be great—I’ll see you at home.”

You smile and nod, squeezing his hand before moving to tug the door open to the bistro. You believe him.

--

So it turns out, good things really do come to those who wait—or maybe in this case, put in the work and take encouragements from their boyfriend seriously. Max has decided to do something with your script, there’s a lot more that needs flushed out and you have that knee-jerk reaction to not be too hopeful but…it’s pretty official. Your script will be turned into a film. Austin doesn’t exactly say I told you so but his eyes are bright and wide when you tell him.

There are many laughs and kisses that follow.

On a rare Wednesday morning when neither of you have any obligations pulling your attention, there’s the opportunity to sleep in. And you do, until coffee feels unavoidable. You gently slip out from under Austin’s arm as he sleeps on his stomach, turned away from you, blonde curls slightly wild. He makes a soft noise at the movement but doesn’t wake up.

Going to the kitchen, you put on a pot of coffee and pour it into mugs once it’s ready. You make yours the way you like it and take a few long sips, leaning against the counter before getting his all set—black with cream.

The ceramic warming your hands, you take the mugs back into the bedroom. A soft smile tugs the corners of your mouth as you sit next to Austin’s torso, putting the mugs down on the nightstand. He lets out a slow breath, which means he’s awake just hasn’t opened his eyes. You quietly run your hand through his hair, scratching lightly at the scalp. He moves a bit, yawning and pressing his face into the pillow.

Blue sleepy eyes look up at you, skin a soft pink from the impression of the pillow. “Thought the whole point was to sleep in.” He teases, moving to wrap an arm around your lower waist. His voice is just a twinge deeper than usual, a bit raspy from just waking up.

“I did,” You purse your lips, “For like an hour—coffee was calling.”

Austin shakes his head but he’s not gonna argue about that, it seems. He moves in bed until he’s leaning against the headboard, running one hand through his messy hair and moving to press a kiss to your jawline. Licking his lips, he picks up his coffee and takes a sip. You reach your hand over and adjust the simple gold chain he sometimes wears around his neck—forgot to take it off before bed again.

“Some things never change.” Austin says, motioning to the coffee.

You smile, can’t help it—you suppose that’s true in a way. Here you are, yet again bringing Austin coffee. Shifting forward, you let your hand rest on his chest as you steal a soft kiss, his lips moving easily against your own.

Everything's changed, yet nothing has.

--

Can’t believe it’s over! Once again I super appreciate all the comments, likes, reblogs, and asks about CCG! Never know, we might do a one-shot or something for this universe ;) I do have some requests that I will be posting, so I am looking forward to hearing from any of you on those.

It’s been fun!

tag list:  @pearlparty, @theinvisiblecapricorn, @kittenlittle24, @andrewgarfields-girlfriend, @mirandastuckinthe80s, @nonsensical-nonce, @softlispoken, @dudinhahoff, @peterparke-r, @lottiee03, @little-diable, @therealwriter17, @bob-the-tomato, @bcofl0ve, @domaniquessidehoe, @oh-austin, @rosequartzluvr, @callthedarknessdown, @laperceval, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @starry-night-20, @ahoyyharrington, @obsessedunicorn24, @lulu-recs, @queenotaku23, @embobemm, @milaa24, @medleyj, @myownparadise96, @butlersluvbot, @girlokwhatever, @pinkle-monade0103, @vintagebitc, @xcallmetaniax, @adoreyouusugar, @karamelcoveredolicity, @thisisntmeok, @kvcssghbjbcd, @mamaspresley, @elvismylove, @chaoticbilly, @pulisvertz, @killerqueenfan, @jasminex12, @simpforevery1, @dre6ming, @behindmygreyeyes 

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler drabble #austin butler fic #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things #ccg series #ccg

[twopoppies]

https://www.tumblr.com/twopoppies/747674310075940864/appropriate-is-the-perfect-way-to-describe-his

As much as I agree that clothes has no sexuality and shouldn’t have a gender either, the problem with this complaining with his recent “looking too straight” is that obviously queers, people of his own community, think he’s wearing queer clothes only when he’s working and so it looks more like a costume rather than his conscious personal choice. And that’s when queerbaiting accusations start because when he’s off stage he just doesn’t look that gay when he’s on stage/red carpet/doing promo. Personally I don’t care what gp think of him because they have no idea he’s closeted but I find it sad that queers think he’s only using queer clothes when he’s selling something and don’t recognize him as one of them and so they call him queerbaiter. This is not my opinion but something that I learned why queers call him out for queerbaiting and that he’s looking too straight when he’s not working.

Yes, I agree that some people say that. But it’s so stupid. He’s an entertainer. Of course the clothes he wears on stage and on red carpets are going to be flamboyant. And he’s known for being very fashion forward, so fashion magazines are going to shoot him in outrageous things. And when we get pap pictures of him, guess what. He’s still working. But he’s not going to walk down the street dressed to the nines. That’s like saying you should wear the same clothes you go to the club in when you go to work as a dentist.

I think he wears what he likes and when he’s on his own time, we don’t see him. But there are plenty of outfits we’ve seen him in that aren’t “gay” and flamboyant, but are still very quirky and not at all what your average hedge fund bro is going to be wearing.

Bottom line is, I really think certain people just want to hate him and so they nod their head at what other people say and don’t want to give any thought to the veracity of the comments.

[teamfreewill-imagine]

I Know Your Wife (She Wouldn’t Mind) - Part Fifty-Eight

Summary: Paparazzi meet you and Jared exiting the hotel, forcing your hand at announcing your pregnancy Words: 2.8k  Jared x Reader x Gen  Warnings: pregnancy, mild angst

IKYW Masterpost

You blinked your eyes open the next morning, a content smile on your face, to find Jared already awake and watching you.

“What’re you doing, weirdo?” you asked, making him laugh softly and sit up.

“You looked so peaceful,” he reasoned, stretching his neck from side to side.

You hummed, smiling up at him.

“Doesn’t sound like me at all,” you joked, and he rolled his eyes as he got out of bed. “Where are you going?”

“Gonna shower,” he told you, unabashedly naked as he found his spare clothes in his bag. “You’re welcome to join.”

“In a minute,” you told him, breaking off into a yawn. “Gotta wake up first.”

“Sure,” he smiled, crawling over to you to kiss you softly before making his way through to the bathroom.

"You're really hot!" you called after him, hearing his laugh over the sound of water hitting tiles. "I'm serious. A great looking guy."

"It's good to know you're with me for the right reasons," he shot back, appearing in the doorway with his hands holding the frame, flexing his arms deliberately to make you grin.

"You're literally the sexiest man I've ever met," you assured him, getting out of bed to find your own clothes for the day.

You'd pulled on a long tee to sleep, but you still felt Jared's eyes tracking your ass as you bent to search through your bag.

"You're not so bad, yourself," he told you, making you laugh again as you backed him into the generous bathroom.

You put your clothes next to his on the counter before running your hands up his chest and over his shoulders.

"I'll remind you of that in a few weeks when I can't fit through a doorway," you jibed.

He shook his head, hands instantly going to your ever-growing bump.

"You're still hot when you're pregnant," he assured you, encouraging you to take your sleep shirt off.

"You've only seen me pregnant with one baby at twenty," you reminded him, pulling your top off and heading for the shower. "Now it's two at twenty-four."

"Yeah, and you're still gonna be sexy as hell," he promised, following you in. "I'm always gonna think you're hot."

"Oh yeah?" you grinned, standing under the warm stream and pulling him towards you.

He nodded, his hands slipping over your waist to the top of your ass.

He ducked his head to kiss you under the water, and you grinned against his lips.

"Prove it."

*****

You left the hotel in thick leggings and a sweater, regretting your disregard for your appearance when you noticed a camera pointed your way.

“Fuck,” you groaned behind your mask, Jared instantly taking your hand and walking you towards the car.

“We’re okay,” he told you, both of your bags over his shoulder as he offered a small wave with his free hand. “Someone obviously tipped off that we’re here.”

You shook your head as you approached the car, keen to get inside as soon as possible.

“What’s wrong?” Jared asked, putting your bags in the back before getting into the front.

You were already strapped in, taking your mask off and sanitising your hands again.

“I look like shit,” you started, pressing on as he rolled his eyes and cleaned his own hands. “Plus, I’m clearly either pregnant or fat, now.”

“You don’t look fat,” he dismissed, starting the car.

“Then I’m obviously pregnant,” you insisted, tugging at your sweater. “This doesn’t exactly hide the babes very well.”

“Is that what we’re calling your boobs, now?” he teased, making you laugh despite yourself.

“Stop, I’m serious,” you told him. “I don’t want this pregnancy to be outed by some stupid pap shots.”

You leaned your head back against the rest, closing your eyes as your hands went to your bump.

“I wanted to announce it my own way, this time,” you mused, “Not have my hand forced. Again.”

Jared sighed, feeling guilty as he knew it was his slip up that had forced your announcement with Dallas.

“You’ve probably got about an hour,” he told you, “Maybe a little less, until a shitty article comes out. You could… you could beat them to it. Make their breaking news a little less breaking.”

You opened your eyes, looking over at his profile as he drove.

“You think that’s a good idea?” you questioned, and he shrugged one shoulder, briefly meeting your eye.

“I understand that it’s important for you to be in control of this,” he explained, his honesty and level of understanding taking you by surprise. “So much of your life has been out of your hands, and being able to announce this in your own way… I get it. Whatever you want to do, I’m in.”

*****

You called Gen on the way home, not wanting to wait until you got back, talking to her on loudspeaker so Jared was still a part of the conversation.

She understood that you wanted to announce it before any pictures were released, supporting your decision to post whatever you wanted.

You kept her on the call as you described what you were doing, finding a picture you’d taken the day you had found out you were pregnant shortly before Thanksgiving and creating an instagram post.

“I’m gonna… I’ll turn comments off,” you told them. “I don’t actually wanna talk about it all until we’re 16 weeks at least, but I need to be the one to say it.”

“Of course,” Gen agreed. “We support you, don’t we, Jare?”

“For sure,” Jared confirmed. “We can post it and forget about it for a few weeks, if that’s what you want.”

“Alright, I’m doin’ it,” you mumbled, making sure that comments were turned off before hitting send.

“Proud of you, baby,” Gen told you, making you laugh softly. “I know this isn’t how you wanted to announce it, but taking back control from dumb paps? That’s our girl.”

“Hell yeah,” Jared agreed, reaching across to take your hand. “You did good.”

“Sure,” you allowed, your phone already blowing up from your post. “Gen, we’re nearly home.”

“Alright, see you soon,” she told you, you and Jared both saying goodbye before you hung up.

“That was a good idea, right?” you asked, looking over at Jared as he continued to drive.

“For sure,” he confirmed without missing a beat. “I would’ve tried to stop you if it wasn’t.”

You smiled to yourself, running your hand over your bump as you watched likes and messages come in.

“It’s gonna be a weird couple weeks.”

*****

*****

You, Jared, and Gen had all contacted your agents when you got home, explaining that despite the announcement, you weren’t yet interested in expanding any more about your pregnancy. Jared had an interview upcoming with Good Morning America coming up - something you’d all forgotten about in the moment - but he had requested as little talk about the news as possible. He was happy to be congratulated, but beyond that you’d agreed to keep the details quiet until the twins had been cooking a little while longer. The only real detail you already had was the fact that they were identical, anyway.

The shots of you and Jared leaving the hotel came out soon after you returned home, with the source calling it your first outing since announcing your pregnancy, despite nothing being announced before said outing. Others commented on the fact that you were without Genevieve, speculating that she might not support the new additions to the family and that your relationship might be on the rocks. As soon as Gen saw one of those theories, however, she made sure to share your post to her story, simply stating that she couldn’t wait to meet them, hopefully dispelling as much as much of those rumours as possible.

*****

You and Gen were entertaining Dallas in the living room while Jared prepared for his interview in the office, the boys still at school for a few more hours.

Your stomach let out a loud gurgle, surprising your daughter from where she was sat at on the floor, Gen sat behind her braiding her hair.

“Sorry, baby,” you apologised, running your hand over your bump.

“S’that twinnies?” Dallas asked, making both you and Genevieve laugh.

“That’s just Mama being hungry,” Gen told her, running her fingers through Dallas’ hair and starting the braid again.

“But it is kinda the twinnies’ fault,” you allowed, getting to your feet. “I’m eatin’ for three.”

“I’m three,” Dallas announced, and Gen abandoned the braid in order to wrap her arms around her, pulling Dallas onto her lap.

“You are,” she laughed, kissing your daughter’s cheek. “You gotta stop growing, okay? You gotta stay this cute forever.”

“M’kay,” she agreed, leaning back into Gen’s embrace.

“Alright, ladies,” you began, getting to your feet, “What do we want for lunch?”

“I don’t mind,” Gen told you, putting her head on Dallas’ shoulder. “What about you, Bambina? Any requests?”

“Mac ‘n’ cheese,” she blurted, smiling up at you sweetly. “Please, Mama.”

Your stomach rumbled again at her words, making you laugh softly.

“Sounds like the twinnies agree,” you joked, Dallas grinning back at you. “I’ll start cookin’.”

“What do you say?” Gen prompted, and Dallas got up, rushing over to hug your legs.

“Tank you, Mommy,” she spoke into your thigh.

“You’re welcome, Dallas,” you smiled as you ruffled her hair, making a mess. “Let Bambi fix that and I’ll go make some macaroni.”

*****

Jared handled the interview as well as you could have hoped.

You knew he was especially conscious not to let anything slip, this time, and you were aware that it was going to be difficult if he was directly asked questions about it.

“They congratulated us,” he told you once it was over, joining you in the kitchen as you prepared your lunch. “Well, me, but us.”

“We kinda knew they would,” you allowed, leaning into him as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

“I just thanked them and said we’re all excited,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head. “They moved on to working with Gen and Walker questions pretty quick.”

“Good work, baby,” you smiled, leaning up to kiss him softly. “Dallas and the twinnies wanted mac and cheese.”

Jared smiled, pulling away from you in order to lean against the counter next to the stove, where you were heating the sauce and boiling the pasta.

“The twins wanted it, huh?” he asked with a knowing grin.

“They did,” you defended. “I wouldn’t usually be hungry this early if it wasn’t for these little guys.”

Jared rolled his lips between his teeth, trying to suppress another smile.

“What?” you asked, and he shook his head slightly as he let out a laugh. 

“I’m just excited,” he admitted, smiling bashfully. “We’re having twins.”

“Yah, two of ‘em,” you confirmed, making him roll his eyes.

You switched the heat off under the pasta, looking up at Jared hopefully.

He took the hint without a word, taking the pot to the sink to drain the macaroni while you stirred the sauce to stop it from sticking. He brought the pot back over, carefully pouring the cooked pasta into the sauce as you continued to stir.

“Look at you, making an actual meal from scratch,” Jared teased, causing you to huff a laugh.

“I’ve been a competent cook for a while now,” you defended, and he nodded.

“I know, you’re great,” he agreed, washing the pasta pot at the sink. “But seeing you cook while pregnant reminded me of last time. When I taught you to make that veggie lasagne.”

“I was absolutely useless back then,” you remembered, and Jared raised a brow.

“In the kitchen, maybe,” he allowed.

You caught the glimmer in his eye, swatting him with the back of your hand.

“Get away, you pervert,” you teased, pulling out a dish to finish the mac in the oven.

“I’m just sayin’, we’re good at what we do,” he grinned. “We’ve made three babies.”

“Go and talk to the first one,” you laughed, pretending to push him away. “I’ll call y’all for lunch in a few.”

“I love you,” he told you over his shoulder as he left.

“Yeah,” you replied, fighting a smile. “I love you too, loser.”

*****

You were all sat in the front room, Jared’s laptop open on the coffee table as the six of you spoke with Gen’s mom on FaceTime when the boys were home from school that afternoon.

She’d called for a general catch up, and the kids were happy to tell her every little detail about what they’d done since their last call together.

Your phone started to vibrate in your pocket, and you instantly apologised as you pulled it out.

“It’s my dad,” you noted, looking at Jared before back at the screen. “Sorry, he never really calls.”

“It’s fine, sweetheart,” Camille told you. “It was lovely to see you.”

“You too,” you agreed, answering the video call from Jensen as you left the room.

“Thought you were gonna leave me to ring out,” he joked, making you roll your eyes fondly.

“We were talking with Gen’s mom,” you informed him, heading up to your bedroom. “What’re you calling for?”

“Wow, rude,” he teased. “Can’t I just call to talk to my daughter? My sweet, sweet child that I love so much? The apple of my eye?”

You laughed despite yourself.

“You’re such a drama queen,” you told him, sitting against your headboard. “Did you actually just call for a chat, or-?”

“Yeah, kinda,” he admitted, laughing softly. “Dee’s entertaining the kids, figured I’d take a break and call you.”

“You getting tired of being their horse?” you asked, having seen the video Danneel posted the day before.

“Honestly, yeah,” he laughed. “I’m getting old.”

“Don’t talk about my dad like that,” you grinned, earning a fond smile.

“If you’ve gotta get back to your call, I don’t wanna keep you,” he told you, and you shook your head.

“It’s okay, the kids are boring Camille to death, I’m pretty sure,” you explained. “So, what do you wanna talk about?”

He hummed, contemplating.

“How about your completely blasé pregnancy announcement?” he offered. “What was all that about?”

You laughed, running the hand that wasn’t holding your phone over your ever-growing bump.

“Me and Jared got papped coming out of a hotel,” you explained, “And I was pretty clearly pregnant, so I figured I should just announce it before there was a chance to make it into some kinda scandal again.”

“Smart,” Jensen agreed, scratching his bearded chin. “What were you and Jared doing at a hotel, anyway?”

“At the hotel?” you clarified, and he nodded. “Sex, mostly. Some sleeping.”

You laughed at the instant look of exasperation on his face; a roll of his eyes together with a soft tut.

“That’s… that’s clearly not what I meant,” he reminded you.

“It was date night,” you explained, taking pity on his evident disappointment with your first answer. “Last weekend was me and Jared, this week is Jared and Gen.”

“So the odd one out stays home with the kids?” Jensen asked, and you nodded.

“Yep,” you confirmed. “Basically realised we don’t spend a lot of one-on-one time with each other. Like, we have three kids. And our usual date nights were all three of us, so we’re changing it up a bit.”

“Makes sense,” he agreed.

“Gonna try and do it weekly until the babies arrive,” you told him.

He nodded, taking in what you were saying.

“What?” you asked, when he didn’t respond for a while. “What are you thinking?”

“You’re happy, right?” he questioned, making you frown slightly.

“About what?” you asked, and he shrugged.

“Everything, I guess,” he sighed. “Your relationship.”

The question took you by surprise, the sincerity in his expression leading you to believe that he thought you might not be.

“I love them,” you assured him. “Jay, I wouldn’t have wanted another baby with them if I didn’t. They’re good to me, they put up with my shit and call me on it when I’m being an idiot.”

“And you’re happy?” he clarified, making you laugh softly.

“Yeah, Dad, I’m happy,” you promised. “You’d be the first to know if I wasn’t.”

“That’s a lie, you’d call Danneel,” he protested, and you nodded in defeat.

“Y’all are a unit, though,” you reasoned. “Calling Danneel is the same as calling you.”

“Yeah, well. Maybe call me a little more,” he shrugged, and realisation hit you that he had been feeling a little left out.

“Is this your way of telling me that you miss me?” you asked, earning a soft laugh.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” he allowed. “Call your dad, once in a while.”

You nodded, pulling your legs up under you.

“Alright, I’ll keep that in mind,” you assured him. “Now tell me what’s going on with you.”

#ikyw #i know your wife #jared x reader #spn rpf #jamie writes #jared padalecki #genevieve padalecki #jensen ackles #supernatural rpf

[deliciouskeys]

about the uhm meme list thing for fics…

could you do Hughie x Homelander no16..<3

Lol, sorry, this fic idea got a little bit fucked up, Anon. Hope you don’t mind Annie being in the mix. (meme link)

16. Homelander x Hughie, Mistakenly assumed to be gay

After hashtag #Homelight airs, and Annie, Homelander and Hughie have that tense exchange in her Vought tower apartment, Hughie gets worried about Annie, and rather than just fucking off to Russia, decides to meet with HL without her to negotiate that the FBSA will lay off investigating Vought and Hughie won’t go out in public with Annie when she’s recognizably Starlight in exchange for HL not fucking with her and keeping the PDA to a minimum. He arranges to meet HL in a public place (for safety). HL is amused by the entire notion that Hughie has anything of interest to him that he can leverage and agrees to meet for what, in his mind, is a complete joke of a negotiation.

What neither of them anticipates is how much public and pap attention they end up attracting when they meet in public. What was going to be a quick conversation in Washington Square Park suddenly becomes tabloid gossip fodder for why Homelander is meeting Starlight’s ex in front of a fountain, and quickly devolves into juicy gossip that all three are involved in a ménage a trois or something equally bohemian. #Homelightbell starts to trend more than the original, Vought-approved hashtag.

HL is really annoyed when he realizes this rumor has gone viral and wants to clarify to the press, but the Vought PR team advises that it’s best not to acknowledge even knowing about the rumors by denying them. Meanwhile, the Boys find this turn of events absolutely hilarious and Billy is determined that Hughie needs to capitalize on this by threatening to fan the flames of the rumors unless HL keeps his hands off of Annie. Hughie isn’t particularly looking to incense HL, but he does get bolder about visiting Vought Tower and spending nights there with Annie. HL gets fed up with these power plays from a puny mudperson though, and one night just waltzes in through the door while they’re having sex. He thinks he’s going to stand there and make them uncomfortable but Annie is also fed up and tells him to leave, since he’s too straitlaced to join in. HL’s like… “what if I do join in”, and Hughie’s kind of terrified and questions why Annie even brought that up as an option, and Annie’s like “Because I’m sick of both of you trying to decide things behind my back and doing your stupid little power games over me!”. … and a very weird sex scene ensues that nobody wanted but both men deserve.

#lol #idk where my mind goes with homie #homelander x hughie #thanks for the ask! #fic idea #hughie campbell #annie january #starlight #homelander #the boys #the boys tv

[ratsoh-writes]

how would ht,uf, and ut brothers react to their crush making something like lunch for them and accidentally burning them sleds with water. Nothing too serious. But crush has sensitive skin, so it feels horrible.

that’s all, thanks :-)

Sans: big oof. Sans hears his crush’s shriek in the kitchen and the first thing he does is shortcut in. Seeing the burn on their arm, sans can tell it’s not life threatening, just really painful. He hisses at the sight as he walks over to inspect it. Yea that sucks. It’s a real pain. It’s really fowl..

Crush hears the slight change in his voice with dawning horror at what they know is coming.

“Water you doing?? You dew know you aren’t supposed to pour towards you (crush)~ the waters real pot! If you just wanted to tide yourself over I could’ve-“

Crush is so disgusted at the bad jokes that they hadn’t even realized the pains disappeared yet. Sans pulled a quick heal job during his verbal crime against comedy

Papyrus: like the charismatic heroic prince of a fairy tale- just before the hot water splashes crush, papyrus scoops them up in his arms out of the waters reach…. Then screeches something awful. He’s wearing his booty shorts again, meaning his legs are exposed. Poor paps knee has been burned by boiling water

“ARE YOU OK- OH F*CKING SH*T THAT HURTS-“

The pain didn’t hit him until a few seconds later clearly. Better get him an ice pack.

Red: when crush yelps, red shortcuts into the kitchen rapidly with all the focus of a well trained attack dog. His frantic entrance is so surprising crush briefly forgets the pain and instead looks at red wide eyed. Thinking it’s nothing serious because of that reaction, he flushes in embarrassment.

“T’ hell is that look for, I can’t be f*ckin worried?”

Oh right, he came in cause he heard crush’s cry. Aaand now they’re tearing up as the pain registers again. Reds eyes widen and he makes crush put their arm under running cold water.

Edge: like he’d let anyone cook alone. Even if it’s not his kitchen, edge insists on seeing the process of the food being made. Especially if he has to eat it. He has high standards after all. The second crush even motions to pour the pot of water into the strainer- towards themself- the audacity!!- edge grabs their wrists stopping them.

“HAVE YOU LEARNED NOTHING?? NO WONDER YOU ALWAYS BURN YOURSELF WHEN YOU COOK-“

And now crush is oh so generously gifted with a lecture on kitchen safety. Edge has effectively taken over the rest of the cooking for the night.

Oak: when crush yelps, oak doesn’t immediately react as the sound didn’t quite register right away. It’s only when he hears his crushs sniffles in the kitchen that he senses something is wrong. Walking inside, oaks eyes widen at the pot of spilled hot pasta, and his crush holding their hand. With a lot of restraint, oak ignores the wasted food to check and make sure crush is alright

“Oh geez, that’s painful looking buns, lemme get you some ice”

He does come back with the ice, but is stunned all over again when he sees pasta on the floor, asking if SO spilled it, like that isn’t obvious lol

Willow: “NOOOOOOOOOOOO THE STOVES STILL ON-“

It’s like a slow-mo scene in a movie where the hero attempts to stop someone from making a stupid decision but it’s obvious to the viewers that they’re too far away lol. Willow stretches out his hand, but despite the impressive length of his arms, he’s still too far to stop crush from trying to snatch a taste test of the steamed buns on the pan. The very very hot buns on the pan. Crush shrieks as their fingertips burn, and finally willow reaches them, snatching their hand away

“STARS ARE YOU ALRIGHT- I SAID THEY WEREN’T DONE!!”

lol he’s clearly caught in a war between worry and annoyance. This is why you don’t sneak taste tests before the food is ready!

#undertale imagines #undertale headcanons #undertale #underfell #horrortale

[kingkatsuki]

hello jo i have burrowed up from the grave to say hey hope you're doing well and that your crops are watered etc etc.

and also thinkin about being katsu's lil admin/executive assistant and getting jealous bc u are tasked with maintaining his booty call schedule ok bye

GORGE DO NOT FALL BACK INTO MY LIFE WITH ANGST. I will not allow it on this day. I hope you’re doing well lovely, it’s been so long💕

Bakugou doesn’t call it a booty call list, but you know that’s exactly what they are. Pretty women who are constantly calling the office to try and talk to Pro-Hero Dynamight. Telling you how important they are, and how they deserve to be put straight through to the Hero when you give them the well rehearsed spiel that you’ve memorised about not being able to forward him calls right now as he’s busy. “Too busy for me? I don’t think so-” they always respond the same way, but somehow they never manage to make it through to your boss.

It hurts, hearing a different voice each month. You haven’t actually seen any of them (except one that he managed to get papped with and she was beautiful), but you can just tell over the phone how pretty they are. Because why settle for less when you’re Pro-Hero Dynamight, why settle for you?

It was stupid to think he’d ever like someone like you, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. Putting on your polite phone voice whenever you’d arrange an engagement for him, trying not to think about the way he’d look at them when he arrives at his date. Looks of infatuation, adoration, lust? The thought made bile rise in the back of your throat as you put the phone down with a sigh, wishing that for once he wouldn’t make you do this as part of your job. But god forbid Bakugou actually used his phone.

You knew he’d be leaving his office soon today, his third date this month was scheduled for half-hour from now and Bakugou was never late. You smelt him before you saw him, a mixture of his quirk and expensive cologne permeated the room as you tried to focus on your computer. Pretending to be typing away at your email but really it was just jibberish. Borderline keyboard smashing so you wouldn’t have to look into Bakugou’s eyes when he was leaving to meet a woman. A woman who wasn’t you. He always tended to linger around your desk whenever he had a date, like he wanted to talk to you before he left— but it was probably just to remind you of how painfully single you were.

But little did you know— the real reason Bakugou was going out on all these dates was because he thought there was absolutely no way you’d want to date someone like him. You got to see him at his best and his damned worst being his secretary, the side that not many people got to see. Why would you go out with him when you deserved better, someone who could be there for you— who wouldn’t miss birthdays, anniversaries, dates because of his job. You deserved everything. And Bakugou thought this was something he couldn’t give you, so instead he tried to fill the void of his aching heart by dating other women.

And it’s futile, especially when he compares everyone to you. Because the more he goes out on these meaningless dates, the more Bakugou realises that there is no one else. It’s always gonna be you.

#soft bakugou

[grapejuicestyless]

Singer y/n x Harry part 4 secrets and relationships revealed

Warnings: bullying

Summery: Y/n and Harry are both musicians. After Y/n finishes up her tour for her successful album, Sling, a certain musician reaches out to her and asks for her help on his next album.(also for this I realize Sling came out in 2021 but for this we’ll say it came out in 2020

There is a time jump in this from May 2022 to September 2022.

yourusername Taking a small break from projects. It was so fun to get to finish everything and hopefully I can get it out to everyone very soon but for now I’m taking some me time.

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harryfan01 so are you going to address those pap photos?

ynandharry112 the pap photos??

ynarrystans2 iconic for posting about grape juice and ignoring the elephant in the room.

comments on this post have been limited

enews Could the rumors be true? Harry styles and y/n y/l/n have been spotted getting pretty cozy! Their most recent sighting just yesterday at a local cafe. The pair looked content and very comfortable with each other! This isn’t the first time though as the pair has been linked for more than a few months. Click the link in our bio to learn more about this pairs timeline!

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ynrryfanlove OMG ITS TRUE!!

harry101kiwis we los thin guys.

harrylovesfruit I better not see anyone sending hate to this sweet girl. She’s a literal saint and gave us some amazing songs. I hope she’s ok, she’s on break right now.

| ihateynrry ew no fuck that bitch.

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Rollingstone “It’s really hard I feel like. I know I’m not a small artist but I’m not as big as some of my friends. I’m obviously very thankful for all of what I have and I couldn’t even think to ask for any more or less support. I love everyone who chooses to support me. But that doesn’t mean it’s not any less hard. Recently I had the privilege to work on an album with one of my closer friends, Harry Styles. It’s a beautiful album that we were both very proud of in all aspects. The writing felt good, it was just a very easy album to create. We just meshed good together in our opinions. And you know, I posted about it because I was excited. Who wouldn’t be? Making and Album like that? Come on. But you know, since I’m a smaller artist than him many fans thought I was using him to boost my fame or acting like it was my album. I know it’s not my album. I know and I don’t want to try to make it mine when it’s not. It was just something I enjoyed helping on and getting to take part of in general. It’s also hard to have to deal with everyone all over my live life. They hear a whisper and all of a sudden I am the most hated woman on the internet. It hurts to see people tearing you down for no reason but it’s something I have to adjust to better and I think I’m going to use this break as an opportunity to work on my mental health and just getting back into that work mindset.” Y/n Y/L/n on her upcoming break and projects!

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harrystan boo.

florencepugh a much needed break for my favorite girl!👏👏👏

directionerheart she looks so pretty in this interview.

phoebebridgers 🙏

standfortpwk Idk she seems kinda fake..

harrymyhusband she’s such an attention seeker. No way Harry’s into her.

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September 2022

harrystyles baby, you are the love of my lifeeee.

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ynrry I bet you all feel stupid now.

harrymyhusband PR!!

yourusername 🥹

lizzobeeating Finally!

ynfan08 love to see her boyfriend finally defending her.

yourusername I love you the most.

| harrystyles don’t start. You know I’d go to war for you.

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yourusername I can confirm it does get better.

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taylorswift glad you’re back!

ynfan223 SHES BACK!!!

ynrry WE WERE SO WORRIED!!!

harrystyles 🤩🤩

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[zot3-flopped]

Then I look at Harry, who must have been seeing everywhere, day after day, that he was the one with ‘it’, that he was the beating heart of the band //

I agree with this anon. That’s why it’s so fucking annoying how Harry fans act like he’s stupid when he struggles to communicate. “The movie feels like a movie thing” That killed me because it’s like he was trying to find positives for what seems like an overall problematic film. He wanted to express his darker side for once in that movie and sadly that opportunity wasn’t the best for him. That doesn’t make him stupid because he doesn’t know how to express complex feelings around a topic that really harmed his image that he worked very hard to construct. I explain mid days to people as “I’m here right” “it’s a workday” how’s that different from “a movie that feels like a movie”

Harry as he’s even said “I was awake at the start of the world.” He’s so much deeper than so many people see or give him credit for and it’s part of the thing that makes him shine and seem more than human, it’s his light and that comes from the soul. He works to build himself as a human and that’s why we can all grow with him.

He did get the piss taken out of him for years, you can see him shut down in so many interviews because people don’t let him talk, talk over him, or don’t understand him. So much promo for four he is just so shut down. You can see it in his eyes. I remember being a fan at the time and feeling so sad for him. He was so obviously depressed and heartbroken, and that has been confirmed by the stuff he wrote in his first album or for his first album “I’m not happy” anyone?

He may shine but let’s not act like 1D wasn’t toxic and abusive, that he wasn’t sexualized as a young teenager and disgustingly so with ties to the Larry shit that is still harassing them to this fucking day. He has been viciously stalked by people and paps and he still does his job. Just because you can thrive in a toxic environment doesn’t mean you are toxic, it means you are resilient, because the core of who you are is strong enough to push you through. And then people talk about how he’s media trained and that’s why he answers how he does, not that he’s actually a good person who is nervous when he’s speaking publicly and who feels comfortable in certain topics. Or as someone with obvious deep and complex trauma.

Letdown blog I found years ago and always hated how far they had to reach to try to make him seem shitty when really he’s always been doing the best he can with what he has and who he’s with. Everyone who thinks so poorly of his team that’s been with him for years piss me off too. Like yeah they’re industry people but they’ve also helped him become a Grammy winning global artist. Jeff isn’t perfect but he’s also not his father and it’s shitty for people to always shit on his family, friends and partners. He already struggles to feel good enough (again shown in so many songs) and knowing that anyone he loves will be abused is horrible. He may not be the abuser but he’s the cause of it and he knows it.

I could go on and on about his suffering but he doesn’t seem to want to dwell. I just wish people saw him with the nuance that is so obviously there. But maybe deep recognizes deep and they can’t see the truth because they haven’t done enough self work to see clearly.

Interesting thoughts.

By 'it's a movie that feels like a movie' he didn't mean that the film was 'problematic', though. He meant it felt like a good old fashioned movie, filmed on location with costumes and a big cast, rather than the green screen acting he did for Marvel.

[mill3rrrd]

DEAR DIARY b hoover

“these bitch boys come too neeky, lying on a bitch that they can’t even have..” – ceechynaa

cw. reader has diagnosed anger issues (not really talked about too much but implied), slight violence and injury description, bertie has a big fat crush on reiner

wc. 4.1k

synopsis. you and bertholdt get off on the wrong foot, maybe you misinterpreted his gaze. to your friends’ dismay, you made yet another foe.

chapter two. forced proximity

dear diary,

ymir’s been pushing a friendship between me and bertholdt. i finally got introduced to him, but i don’t like him. he has this weird look in his eye. i know i said he likes me, but now i think its deeper than that. like obsession. it’s actually scary, the way he looks at me. i don’t mean to sound snobby, but it’s easy to tell when a guy likes you. they ogle you, they’re always making sure they’re within distance of you at all times.

i got a good look at him like i said i would. i can acknowledge good looks, he’s actually one of the better looking few. a tall glass of water, as one might say. he is, infact, VERY tall. bertholdt clearly works out. but he lacks confidence. that’s why nobody sees him.. or maybe just me, but anyone could tell he’s somewhat insecure. the sadness surrounding him says it all. and he’s a sloucher.

i think ymir wants us to ‘get together’ more than ‘be friends’ because of what she said to me two days ago. ‘i think bertholdt’s taken a liking to you.’ well i haven’t. he’s sort of weird. and again, he’s reiner’s one hand man.

you sighed, checking the time on your phone. 07:48.. historia and ymir would be here soon to pick you up, which explained the shorter-than-usual diary entry. you put your diary back in its usual spot and stood up to collect your bag. you weren’t really hungry for breakfast this particular morning, so you sat in your room until mr reiss pulled up in the front of your mom’s driveway.

you could hear the rain beating down on your window, you weren’t even sure your tights could stay somewhat dry from the time you left your house and got to the car. voices came from beyond your open door which meant your brother and mom were heading downstairs. you decided to follow them, smoothing down your jumper and ignoring the blazer hung up on your desk chair. you prayed that you didn’t run into principal kruger..

a car pulled up and the horn honked, you knew it was your friends, so you shouted to your family that you were leaving and swung your coat onto your arms. grabbing your bag by the small hook at the top, you opened the door and made a beeline for the car.

the interior was warm, seats heated and all. you shivered as you greeted your friends and started up conversation like the usual.

screaming, historia grabbed your’s and ymir’s hands. the three of you ran, people who were stupid enough to stay outside giving you all looks of disapproval. as usual, reiner’s group was on the steps—or under the canopy for cover from the rain—it seemed as though they were watching you three, waiting, even. unfortunately, there was no sign of annie or pieck which meant they were probably inside already or just hadn’t told you that they were staying home.

water splashed up at your ankles, soaking your tights and shoes. that would definitely be something you would all complain about later. you could feel and hear the rain hitting your coat, muffled paps! acting like a surround sound in your hood. ymir laughed, holding historia’s hand closer to her body while your hand left hers.

the three of you got to the steps, historia taking one quick step at a time whereas you and ymir skipped a few at a time. the slab of concrete you stepped on was, clearly, really wet. wet enough for you to slip backwards. a minimal shriek left your lips, eyes widening in shock. from the corner of your eye, you could see your friends lurch forward until they looked up–behind you.

a really, really big hand and pressed itself against the small of your back, preventing your fall. you could feel their hand curl around your waist as they prepped you upright. your hood slipped down, exposing your head to the onslaught of april showers and exposing your identity to the person who saved you.

“easy now..” he murmured, “you really shouldn’t run in such weather.” that sad and bored voice. bertholdt. you turned around, seeing him barely leaning over the railing that split the stairs and his arm extended to where his hand supported you.

“what the hell..” you didn’t intend to have such malice and snob take over the tone of your voice, but it just happened. you didn’t even notice he was there! you didn’t see him at all, just where does he come from.. and his hand was lingering. you were stood up and safe, he could let you go.

you could tell bertholdt caught onto your tone because his hand quickly returned to his side and his eyes examined you. his body straightened, rain droplets littering his blazer far quicker than they hit your coat. where even was his coat? it looked like his head touched the sky.

a twitch began in bertholdt’s upper lip which barely made a scene on his face. but you saw it. you sort of felt bad for the audacity you had to think how rude..

was i really that entitled? worry was seeping into your throat.

but if it really bothered him, bertholdt wouldn’t let you hear it, “a good ‘thank you’ would work too..” a flat, tired tone. you hummed, eyes swirling with distaste, “yeah, some other time..” he was one of reiner’s friends.

ymir and historia watched the scene from their spots on the two steps ahead of you, silently giving each other a know-it-all look: eyebrows raised, eyelids low, and a smirk adorning their lips.

a scoff came the group of boys receiving cover from the rain. everyone’s eyes turned to reiner, who pushed himself to the front, clearly not impressed by the scene he just witnessed.

“i wish you’d let her fall,” reiner frowned, looking bertholdt in the eye. you rolled your own, returning to historia’s side. with a cough, you murmured, “i wish your mom didn’t hoe around..” referring to the fact reiner was an affair baby.

“speak louder, y/n, we all know you have a big mouth so use it!” reiner’s tone almost sent you rigid, almost. with a smile, you turned to his burly figure, “you heard me..”

bertholdt returned to reiner’s side, like a dog, eyes looking through you, “i don’t think you’re one to talk about being a hoe..” boystrous laughter erupted amongst reiner’s friends. one of them even had the nerve to say good one, bertholdt.

“i’m sorry? i don’t even know who you are and according to ymir, i’ve gone to school alongside you since the first grade so maybe you need to learn something from me and get. it. up.” your lips popped, expanding your word’s influence. their laughter ceased and bertholdt’s cheeks warmed.

“and maybe, if you quit dick riding big brother, you’ll feel better about yourself,” you snickered, bringing up reiner’s nickname. ymir and historia giggled as you walked with them to the entrance but as you passed, bertholdt had whispered something he’d wish he hadn’t said.

“shut up, bitch..” bitch? like a dog? reiner had called you that once, he ended up with a bust lip from just a slap. squatting down, you picked up a piece of stray slate and looked at it in your palm.

“did i hear that right?” you whispered, your question directed at your friends. ymir chuckled, though it was clear she was more unsettled and historia frowned, “y/n, don’t do it..”

like a switch, your shocked expression turned into an angry one and you turned around, launching the piece of slate towards bertholdt’s face. a chorus of ‘oo’s sounded amongst the boys aswell as the sound of rock meeting rock. the tallest boy pulled his hand back from his face, staring at the few dots of blood on his hand. a gash went from his left nostril to just under his left eye.

“next time, i’ll shove my house keys in your eye!” your friends guided you inside, ignoring the eyes of any witnesses. with a small chuckle, bertholdt stared at your retreating figure, “have you got issues or something?” at this point, he was trying to protect whatever masculinity he had left.

he was thankful that ymir and historia had convinced you to leave his second comment alone.

bertholdt noticed how you always found the nerve in someone to strike. he, himself, was too angry to even feel the pain of the gash on his face, stop dick riding reiner? did she know? replacing the pain in bertholdt’s face, a sickness swirled in his abdomen. what if he did feel better if he just gave up on pursuing reiner?

she deserved it, she has no manners, i helped her and she couldn’t even thank me..

reiner broke his friend out of his silence, patting him on the shoulder, “thanks, man, always at my defence!” the praise made happiness replace that sickness. reiner was proud and maybe bertholdt could pursue him for just a while longer.

“ah, it’s no worry..” bertholdt rubbed the back of his neck, ignoring how the rain was washing the blood down his face and creating a pool in his philtrum. the blonde removed his hand, gesturing to the cut, “you might wanna get that checked, though, the rock looked dirty..”

with a slow nod, bertholdt’s eyes flickered all over reiner’s face, “yeah, i will.”

after reiner stepped away, his friends crowded him to congratulate him on ‘taking it like a champ’ or to show genuine care about his injury. what was common, however, was that they all prided him in ‘resisting the temptation of the slut.’

you and your girls reunited at your usual table at break. your sour mood shifted when you had all sat down with your food, finally getting a chance to rant about it.

“i actually hate bertholdt,” you grumbled, resting your cheek on your fist, “he’s made it onto the same list as reiner.”

ymir sighed and took a bite of her sandwhich, “here we go..” pieck and annie shared looks of confusion before the black haired girl decided to ask, “what happened?”

“i am so glad you asked!” for the next five minutes, you explained how bertholdt caught you, reiner got pissy about it and suddenly he switched up and started belittling you. you spent an extra amount of time talking about how bertholdt called you a bitch.

with a gasp, pieck set down her drink, “bertholdt hoover? he called you a bitch? like ‘super quiet, minds his business, wouldn’t hurt a fly’ bertholdt hoover?” you nodded, confirming pieck’s questions. annie chuckled, “it’s always the quiet ones who really have a lot to say, even if they don’t say it, y’know?”

“don’t leave out how you said to him ‘what the hell?’ and gave him the most grossed out look ever when he caught you..” historia chided, though humour was evident in her voice. with a sigh, you nodded, “i guess i did do that, but i felt bad about it, i still would if he didn’t call me a bitch..”

“how about we act out the whole scene, hisu?” ymir suggested, cheek evident in her voice. historia agreed. the two stood up, ymir acting as bertholdt and historia acting as you. historia fell backwards and ymir put her hand on her back, “oh y/n, take it easy, what if you fell?” she made a goo-goo voice, pouting at historia who acted faint, a hand over her forehead.

“bertholdt, please let go, if you hold on any longer, i’ll fall in love!” the two broke out of character, laughing, though ymir was significantly louder than historia which caught a few people’s ears.

“har, har,” you dropped sarcastically, “that’s definitely how it went..” the girls sat back down. ymir leaned forward, her right forearm resting on the table, “oh, it is how it went.”

“i think if you had actually acknowledged him instead of not acknowledging him, you two would be cute,” historia shrugged, picking at her chicken salad, “it’s ashame you two got off on the wrong foot, he usually is quite nice.”

“wait.. have you all spoken to him?” everyone on your table said yes.

“i grew up with reiner, of course i’ve spoken to bertholdt,” ymir said matter-of-factly. historia told you that he’d tag along to ymir’s with reiner when he goes to ymir’s for meals and gatherings.

annie’s lip twitched in reminiscence, “we did cubscouts together.” nodding with her mouth full, pieck put her thumbs up. it had been brought up in a past conversation that pieck and annie attended cubscouts together. ymir patted your back, “it’s okay, it’s only because of reiner that people notice him but you and reiner aren’t close so nobody blames you for not being aware of his friends.”

your head sank into your hands, “i just feel so bad, guys.. i threw a slab at him because he called me a bitch and nobody would’ve done that, that’s low even for me..” you pushed your food away, avoiding eye contact with your friends.

“what if you apologised?” historia and pieck suggested, “he was just trying to be nice in the first place, he didn’t have to catch you, y’know.”

with a raised brow and a scowl, you shook your head, “i’d rather not.. we both got back at each other so we’re even. it doesn’t mean i can’t feel bad about how i went about it, but bertholdt had it coming anyway.” annie hummed in agreement, tilting her head slightly, “even if he did help her, he still called her a hoe and a bitch. he’s really defensive over reiner but that’s no excuse.”

with a pat on the table, ymir chimed in, “yeah, in grade school, porco used to pick on reiner until he got bigger than him and bertholdt was always there for him. they’ve got this loyal brotherly bond, so you can’t blame him that much.”

“i guess not..” you agreed, “i’m not apologising though, i was justified.”

bertholdt examined his gash in the boy’s bathroom mirror. it was beginning to scab up but it was surprisingly deep. not that deep, but for a thin piece of rock? it slid into his face like a disk at such a scary force. reiner leaned on the cubicle behind him, “she’s so cute when she’s aggressive, she gets riled up so easily.”

“cute when you aren’t the victim maybe,” bertholdt frowned and turned around to face reiner, “miss magnolia said it’ll probably scar.”

a careless and loud laugh came from reiner, his head tilted back and arms crossed, “hey, atleast you can tell your kids about that battle scar, ‘yeah i survived the school’s witch and got a cool scar to remind me of my victory’.”

with an eyeroll, bertholdt unrolled his blazer’s sleeves, “y’know it feels like you aren’t my friend right now, you’re just some guy obsessed with a girl he calls a slut.” he was really done.

“c’mon, you know i like her, it’s expected by now, surely,” reiner scoffed but bertholdt scowled at him. scowled. his eyes blazed with unsaid sadness, anger, and betrayal. bertholdt had been nothing but loyal to reiner all his life. but it was clear that reiner wouldn’t do the same, he’s already throwing him to the wolves over a girl. the girl that reiner influenced the slut title to. the girl that reiner had picked on since grade school even though he knew what it was like to be picked on.

“i dont care wether you like her or not, you should leave her alone, drop it. you make her life miserable, can’t you see that? she hates you. you can’t even appreciate your friends anymore with her in the way. have you suddenly misplaced your loyalty? pick, reiner, the slut or me, your best friend?”

bertholdt was taken aback by the stammer in his friend’s voice. it wasn’t a hard choice. reiner should’ve been able to say you, bertholdt. because they were friends. best friends. bertholdt was selfish. he wanted more. he wanted to have reiner to himself, he needed reiner to just accept your unattainability. gosh, he’d even happily go back to when porco hated him and marcel had to apologise on his behalf. when he’d step in when reiner got kicked down and he’d sometimes get kicked down twice as hard. but they had each other.

bertholdt’s father once told him that companionship didn’t require an intimate relationship. companionship was brotherhood. someone to carry along with you so there was familiarity thoughout the tough and newest stages of life.

but it seemed he left a part out. maybe, just maybe, companionship was also seeing a friend off at the station when they couldn’t venture on that same train anymore to seek out the adventure and difference they craved. however, another person replaced his friend. an unfamiliar person who happened to be getting on the train bertholdt still lingered on because he was the one who couldn’t get off and experience unfamiliarity. so the unfamiliarity came to him instead. that person had gotten off a different train and was curious enough to venture into the unknown. the unknown that bertholdt knew so well.

“i see..” bertholdt’s tongue clicked, “when you can make up your mind, come find me.” as if on queue, the bell rang to signal the end of break. the door to the bathroom swung shut and bertholdt found himself in a crowded hallway.

it was a struggle to get to the stairwell leading to the third floor of the english block, but bertholdt got there in the end. mr berner didn’t appreciate tardiness and expected everyone in their seats by the time the bell rang the second time.

thankfully enough, he made it just before and settled in his seat by the window in the 3rd row back. however, as the second bell rang you and ymir walked through the door. bertholdt knew that you and him were in the same english class, but now he was very aware of it. you sat in the back corner with ymir infront of you. on diagonal sides of the room. but he was suddenly aware of his every move, as if you were watching him.

mr berner rose in his chair, “alright class, settle down.” he took the register before explaining the lesson. it was relatively boring, just him explaining p-e-e paragraphs and how to use each aspect of it into the paragraph. then, he gave everyone ten minutes to write one on why lady macbeth was significant to the plot. which wasn’t necessarily a hard task. if it was macduff, for instance, anyone would’ve struggled.

for the last quarter of the lesson, mr berner announced there would be a partner project set for homework, “you have about a month to complete it. i will hand out a card to half of the students in here and you will partner up.”

ymir turned around in her seat, grinning at you and raising her hand for you to return a high five. you smiled too until your teacher interrupted your happiness, “however, due to complications last time we did something like this, i will be choosing your partners.”

a collective groan sounded out throughout the classroom as mr berner walked down the centre aisle. the classroom was layed out as a four by six meaning there was twenty-four students and twelve would recieve a card. as he returned to the front, mr berner called out, “as some of you can see, the cards are not based on shakespear but greek mythology..”

“that is because we are nearing the end of the semester and at the start of the next one, we will focus on classical languages,” your teacher explained, standing infront of the projector screen, “you have all been given twelve different mythologies to study and create some sort of fact file. it can be physical, like a drama performance or something more factual like a display board. as long as it isn’t basic or boring! you will lose marks if there is too few information.”

a smirk fell onto his face as he examined his students, noticing how the lazier few of his students seemed to deflate, “now, i have already picked your partners based on what side of the room you’re on..” he murmured, bending down to his computer and clicking on the document that contained the partner list. one by one, he called out names.

“marlowe and hannah, mina and ymir, bertholdt and y/n..” it almost flew over your head, almost. ymir turned back around to snicker at you and laugh at your luck, “milieus and thomas..” you didn’t listen to the rest of the names. you were stuck with bertholdt.

“you have five minutes to make arrangements with your partner before i dismiss you!” with a heavy groan, you said goodbye to ymir and headed towards bertholdt’s seat since he had the card. mouth flatlined, bertholdt held his hand up like a dry wave, quickly putting it down. you pulled a chair over from the empty desk infront of him and turned it around, sitting opposite of bertholdt.

“what’s on the card?” you asked, biting your cheek and looking at the healing line on his face. turning the card, it read apollo and daphne. you nodded, smacking you lips and producing an ah.. sound, “i know this one..”

“that’s useful, then,” bertholdt hummed, fingers drumming on the table, “we have a month so should we work on it every saturday until the due date?”

that was a good idea.. so you nodded, “yeah, that works, umm.. does your house work?” it felt really awkward. nonetheless, bertholdt agreed and exchanged numbers with you since you didn’t already have it. without another word, you returned to your seat just in time for ymir to come back too.

“he’s healing fine,” you shrugged, “we decided we’d do the project at his house on saturdays.” ymir whistled, “his house? nothing is getting done,” hinting to something more suggestive.

with a laugh, she picked up her bag just as the bell rang. you rolled your eyes, “everything is getting done, ymir, honestly mr berner is not my favourite right now!”

back into the hall you went, heading towards history. you had parted ways with ymir when you left the building to cut across campus for a shortcut. and she didn’t have history but religious studies instead. you hoped you would meet armin along the way.

he was a nice boy, though he got picked on by reiner like you. you were sort of happy to have someone to rant to about it other than your friends and mr smith. however, armin was starting to come out of his shell and the last time you saw him, he had gotten a haircut. you thought it suited him. he was nowhere near ugly, even with the bob cut he donned since he could grow hair.

“y/n, hey!” just who you were hoping to see, “hi armin, ready for history?” he nodded and walked with you to mr smith’s classroom.

bertholdt dragged a palm down his face as he entered his photography class. he had been mentally cursing himself for the awkward interaction in english, he didn’t even want you at his house bertholdt was just incapable of saying no. he didn’t want you to see the state of his sick father, a feeling deep down telling him you were judgy like that. he could’ve suggested the local library or even your house, but honestly, he wasn’t risking bringing out the bratty attitude that was getting too comfortable with him.

bertholdt didn’t know where all these negative beliefs about you came from. he knew he was jealous of you, he didn’t know you enough to hate you but everything he felt for you was close to it. did he actually hate you? or was it jealousy talking..

sure, you dashed something in his face and scarred it, but he did name call you, but you were clearly ungrateful about him saving you from a potentially broken neck. sitting down in his seat, that familiar sickness pooled. you were really fucking up things for him and reiner. you determined their current friendship and you didn’t like either of them. it had him thinking about the delirious possibility that you could be a witch.

bertholdt had mixed feelings about you, just not in a positive light.

#bertholdt hoover x reader #aot fic #aot x reader #annie leonhart #aot ymir #historia reiss #reiner braun #snk fanfiction #fanfiction #bertholdt hoover #female reader

[fishmongeringstudies]

sad pelvis story (it’ll get better after you give up!)

the remarkable thing about pelvic bone separation is that according to the internet and every medical health professional I have spoken to so far it only really happens to pregnant people, so if you look up care and recovery options the only thing they’ll say is: it’ll get better after you give birth! Well Then, I say, shaking webMD lookalike number seventeen by the collar of their stupid starched shirt, shaking them so hard their neck snaps off and they die right there in my goddamn arms, what about the rest of us? What if there isn’t a baby splitting your pelvis in half like a chainsaw? What then?

it’s hard to talk about my pelvis without talking about the evil secondary school dance club and the eight-year-long mental health crisis and the remarkable PAP-endorsed notion of pushing through and overcoming and fucking annihilating adversity. They’re all tied up in each other, like headphone cords in a backpack, or five gymnasts in a game of Twister, or a DND fantasy-themed orgy. It’s not, as I was cautioned against yesterday, that I went and based all my personal worth and value as a person on dance. In fact, one might argue that that would be an easier string to untangle. You’d just have to cut it in half and yank the two ends apart and then boom— no more Liya; an endless world of possibility.

the problem is I picked happiness. So I’d still be a person if you took the dance away from me, you see, I’d just be miserable.

circles in the water. Shark circles. Finger circles, finger rings, rings of people trapping me in the middle of the circus, muttering to themselves about fire.

yesterday I went to dance class (my most recent mistake) and we flung objects around like sweaters and broomsticks and yoga blocks and then it ended and my pelvis went YAHOOBA and while I was lying on the floor contemplating the inherent fragility of man my professor came over and said you have to stop dancing for at least a week and I cried and my friend wandered back in and was like are you okay and I cried a little more and in the evening I called my girlfriend and cried again, cried into my cereal, cried into my nice Fruit Of The Loom (1871) shirt, cried in the bathroom with the cracked-open window. I cried to every single person who asked me if I was okay and then I did it all over again. What else is there to say? Take this lump in my throat and cook it. Throw it in the fire.

one time last semester a friend and I were hanging out in the weed dorm (my Humble Abode in sophomore year) and after we finished trading life updates she was like (a little incredulously, with feeling) damn bro, you are Doing Well. I tried to explain that the fact of my wellness was less a given and more of a series of lucky coincidences that had subsequently gotten tired and sat down for long enough for me to achieve personhood for the first time in my life and I don’t think she really believed me. I don’t think anyone really believed me when I said I was a clown in a fursuit at a furry convention doing cowboy moves and that if someone took off my cowboy hat I would immediately dissolve into a pile of fur, that I was grotesquely aware of how easily all of the good things could slip out of my grasp and that was why I was on anxiety medication, but maybe now they will. Which is a terrible thing. When one dons a clown suit your greatest nightmare is falling. Because falling means the end of the dream. And the end of the dream means no one will want to look at you anymore.

rest is good for you (even for a clown!). Given the fact that we live in a society, which involves, you know, capitalism, complete dissolving of work life balance, et cetera, rest almost has a patina of subversion to it, a sense of you’ve done something that you weren’t supposed to, a quiet roar of fury. Unfortunately, this means nothing to the Singaporean work ethic. In fact the Singapore education system is so uniquely constructed that at every juncture in the road anyone who isn’t thriving at full capacity gets quietly yoinked and is never spoken about ever again.

which, like, injury and mental health aren’t remotely the same thing. But they sure can affect each other and make out vigorously and fuck each other in the ass. My broken pelvis has fucked me in the ass. Like an earthworm hanging out. With itself. At six a.m. in the morning.

a list of absurd things:

one— cows have an ambiguous number of udders. They definitely have multiple nipples and my friend and I thought about it and generally agreed that each nipple probably leads to a separate store of milk but is there one udder or are there four? Six? Nineteen? People have boobs. But cows aren’t people. We spent five minutes looking at photos of cow boobs and concluded, quite gravely, that there are some things in the world we will simply never understand.

two— among the activities not recommended for people whose pelvic bones have separated are the remarkably high-exertion activities “sitting” and “standing”. I was so stunned by this discovery in my English class surrounded by people who were also not answering the poor discussion leaders’ questions that I almost fell out of my chair. Which would have been better for me than sitting in it, apparently. Which would have been ridiculous. I can’t slide around my college campus like a fucking worm. I know I said I was a fucking worm earlier and I was going to fuck another worm but this is different. This is going up to a dung beetle and asking it to sing, to dance, to do calculus. This would kill a worm. If I were a worm, I’d be dead.

three— I emailed my school’s international student center telling them how fucked up everything was and they were like you should consider taking medical leave. All right, Karen, so tell me: if I leave, where the fuck am I supposed to go? There is no place on this continent that even vaguely resembles home and I can’t just buy a thousand dollar ticket back to Singapore out of the fucking blue because I’m not rich, I’m not well-adjusted and well-supported and happily connected to my large family of rich doctors and lawyers, I’m a college student and a dancer and an ex-depressed person who needs to not go back into that dark, airless hole, I’m scared to death of what the next five weeks will look like, I’m fucking

miserable. Didn’t go to dance this morning and I was miserable. Skipped taiko this evening and I was miserable. Sat in the new dining hall and chewed on cherry tomatoes and I was miserable, miserable, miserable. Crying’s off the agenda now because I’m tired but it fucking sucks, you know? Being injured is embarrassing (my most recent problematic thought). Not being able to do the things that spark joy in my life is embarrassing. Like I finally found a way to make myself not want to eject my body into outer space and now my pelvic bones have fucking separated. Google keeps screaming at me about pregnancy and my dance friends keep on going to their dance classes and I just sit here with my sad angry bones and my angry lonely heart, hurting and hurting and hurting, and I write. I write about how pelvic bone separation occurs in between 1 in 300 and 1 in 300,000 vaginal deliveries. I write about how I am not part of this statistic. I write about what it’s like to love yourself in a way that finally makes sense to you, and then have that wrenched away.

I write my sad pelvis story, because I can’t go over there and tell you about it. I write an email to my professor. I write a hundred apologies.

I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time.

10.27.22

[twopoppies]

https://www.tumblr.com/twopoppies/726931328990412800/you-know-its-funny-because-o-was-so-fussy-and?source=share

I'll disagree with the anon that nobody is caring. I think what happens is your view of how much traction something gets is based on your personal dash on whatever social media you use and if I was on larrie tumblr and twitter only I'd think the same thing but that's really because there's nothing for us to say. Taylor is honestly unproblematic, there's nothing going on, what's there to talk about. Anon might be too used to holivia which was like watching a car crash so the talk was constant because every day we were like this wasn't on our bingo card... But since leaving larrie twitter, I don't interact with it (I couldn't stand the stupidity of their discourses) but I interact with Harry content so I have a more broad Harry fandom on my dash, and also from tik tok, I can tell you gf harries are eating it up. A huge number of them is watching her films and buying tickets for the play. They're very happy because she's "relatable" for them and proof that they're "his type" (I legit saw a video of a girl saying this). So the engagement is there. I think they're just going lowkey with the paps right now bc holivia was so overpapped that the gp started questioning the legitimacy if it. The fans are doing a good enough job for now.

I do think they’re back to doing things the way they did with Camille, for example. Which we all should be really grateful for. Olivia was so narcissistic and so intent on making herself the main character that it was incredibly obvious that the relationship wasn’t real and Harry came out of that ordeal looking like an idiot. So people who want to believe that Harry actually dates women, and that they could be “his type“, will love the way this one is going. They see this as “low-key“. And if it’s low-key, then it must be real. 🙄 Honestly, I truly don’t care. As long as he isn’t miserable, then they’re both getting their apparently much-needed PR and she’s not getting shoved in our faces. It’ll be over when it’s over, and life goes on. 

#hussell #stunts

[f0point5]

Hi, sorry to add my two cents as well into the Kelly conversation you had today on your blog.

Let me be honest I really don’t like her either. For the things she said and did herself. And I totally get that you don’t want to talk about politics. But let me just mention that she is/was really outspoken about women rights (abortion and rape and about what was happening in the states especially) and yet she supported bolsonaro (who is pro Israel and openly admitted he would have raped members of his own parliament if they would have been pretty and who calls having girls as kids a weakness) when Kelly herself has a young kid, just because he gave money to the piquets.

Also her saying she had a magical night not only with 18 year old max but she was also already dating daniil at the time (or was just like 2 weeks shy of dating him).

But what really triggers me are her fan pages (and rumoured she herself) making it out to be that max is ps father and her allegedly not allowing daniil to see his daughter (until maxs intervention)

And she also apparently used to talk to her fam pages about her and maxs sex life and it is confirmed that she shared sensitive information about her, ps and maxs whereabouts with her fan pages.

And the way she always talks about/to max is really not making her shine in a good light. She acts more like a mother to max than her own kid. Remember she denied having a nanny multiple times, yet she was photographed with the nanny (by the paps she or her agencies called and payed for)

I’m not even going to touch that whole first paragraph lol I’ve got to stick to my apolitical values.

I will say that the “Max girl dad” narrative comes from his fan pages as much as hers because I’ve seen some very extreme stories/narratives around that and I don’t follow Kelly fan pages, it’s Max fans putting a lot of it out there as well. All you have to do is read what Max himself says to disprove that. So idk what to say about that.

On the nanny, no one should even be asking her that that she should have to confirm or deny. Idk why she would be ashamed of that but she shouldn’t be. Whatever works for her as a mother should not be judged and it’s sad and stupid that we live in a world where having help is something people think they have a right to comment on or even have actual opinions about.

At the end of the day, you and everyone else is allowed to feel however you like about her. You haven’t come in here with misogynistic nonsense so fair enough.

I really don’t have much to say here