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kyoghurts · 8 months

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I WILL.

hq. kuroo tetsurou/reader

listen, its like this: i know you would do the same for me. but that no one ever told you to in the first place, you just do it. you can and you will, because you want to, you would do it for him, and he would do it for you.

( or: he’s yours and you’re his, isn't it obvious enough? )

tags. fluff hehe. 1.9k wc. taking care of each other like it’s breathing. i actually…based off some of this from my personal experience, we’re not a couple though we just have each other’s back as friends :]]]

“why him?”

there's a curious gaze that's locked into place when kenma had asked you, something you usually don't see everyday.

you stand there, stammering. "uhm, about tetsu?"

kenma blinks, noncommittal.

kuroo tetsurou's rolling in the aisles about what bokuto had been proving for almost an hour (you don't exactly hear their conversation, though you can guess it regards to their recent hyperfixation of a series you only ever knew because your boyfriend couldn't stop babbling for days). bokuto's voice reverberates through the room, big and joyous, and tetsurou's turning red and his laugh is reduced to desperate wheezing.

"he takes care of me." you say after a moment. "the same way i take care of him."

the little grin you have is demure, but so full of tenderness. you tell kenma of the time you’re fifteen and kuroo barely knows of your existence even when you’re both classmates because of the fact that, well, you never really looked at him, and he never looked at you too. always on the corner of his space, there but not touching, not quite, not enough. there’s not enough reasons to meet, not enough to set foot into his view.

that is what you believed, until midterms rolled by.

───・・✦

“that’s a trigonal bipyramidal”

“huh…?”

a day of revising. you realize he’s sitting a little more close to you than before, leaning towards to skim through your paper. there’s an unreadable look on kuroo’s face that makes you blink, now you’re feeling awkward, he gently takes your pencil from your grasp and wrote down something.

“it…has no lone pairs” you know this, although it comes to you a little more slowly. digesting chemistry into your system isn’t your thing, but it seems the opposite for kuroo.

his lips curve, eyes bright. “yeah, and the VSEPR notation is—“

“AX-sub five.” you both say.

“yeah!” kuroo softly exclaims, nervousness spreads across your chest, shows in the way you play with your fingers. you’re sure he notices, because the next thing he says is “oh, sorry, just saw you a bit lost back there”

“i was.” you’re the first to break eye contact. his gaze is almost too much, or maybe you’re just not used to it. “…thank you.”

“you’re welcome” your name on his lips, like a gentle push to your heart, the first time you’re fully aware of what it means to meet. its scary. it’s exciting. “let me know if you need any help.”

you take the chance, now you’ve got a plus one reason to enter his space, which is plenty. “…will you teach me?”

(he taught you better that day than anyone ever could.)

like the class debate that started to heat the atmosphere because kuroo does not back down but you’ve gotten really good at discerning the art of him, his snide remarks increasing rapidly, his mind running short, spatting illogical fallacies, still, it takes him a second when you rub his back in slow circles with a pat. silent but supportive. a short pause, then he breathes.

he’s back out there and you trust him to bring back triumph to you. he trusts you to be there for him, too.

(it could mean nothing, but it could also mean something—you’re inclined towards the latter. the way he held the small of your back, as if to share this little victory with you, during the walk home.)

(perhaps its his way to know he’s there, to slowly be in your space, these small touches, small moments. perhaps you like it, you like to see more of him, to be close in each other’s spaces.)

“ugh” you end up grimacing when you try to swallow, your throat hurts so bad. “fuck, i need water.” you mutter against your breathe, already pushed beyond your limit.

“i think they’re still open” kuroo points upstairs, his tone unsure. “the teachers’”

you raise a brow, but he’s already taking long strides and you realize this a second late that you had to rush to him and curse his long legs and then stumble through your words. “i don’t have my wallet” it hurts to talk, you don’t know if its the soreness of your throat or the lingering embarrassment of the fact that you don’t take care of yourself as much. perhaps its both, the latter is the cause and the result is—this.

kuroo, now considered to be one of your closest friend, gentle written in his eyes and laced within his voice, reassures you to “relax, this is the least i can do. you’ve already been through enough”

its the finals, almost at the finish line when your body takes a toll on you—sore throat, headaches, persistent fever, it all crashes down as if you gave into your own weight, dead and heavy. you were already tired last week, but you’re too stubborn to listen to your own body, your own needs. and you’re not surprised anymore when you wake up shivering and aching, you know you deserved this.

you frown. you don’t even want to know your exam scores, once this is over, you’ll start teaching yourself to listen to the call of your needs. you’ll teach yourself to be kind, to give in, because that is a form of strength in itself. a skill to be used for a lifetime.

he told you this. the moment you sent the text ‘guess who got themselves sick :P definitely NOT me’ he’s already dashing to your place with essentials and you didn’t even mention any details yet, his face both a scowl and of worry. your mouth opens to utter something and he thinks your spilling nonesense because he won’t leave until he knocks some plain sense into you. his words. that was what he said. it stuck with you ever since.

he stuck with you ever since. like some glue you don’t to wash away from your skin, close and comfortable.

the silence that which accompanies the two of you are what you thrive in, you wonder if he feels it too. as you’re both walking down the hallway, everything feels soothing: the sway of his arms on his sides, his faint hums, the unintentional bumps, and the treacle-like slow of grin appearing on your face. he didn’t have to do any of this, he didn’t have to worry about you, or your well being.

(but its not like it bothers you.)

(or him, for that matter.)

after he paid your water and handed it to you, he looked as though he’s thinking hard. of what, you don’t know, you’re about to ask him of something you never felt so sure of.

at least, at this point in your life, you’ll allow yourself to give in.

“kuroo—“

“no.”

your heart drops for a second. “…what?”

“i mean” he rubs his nape, looking anywhere but you. “you call your close friends by their first name, i…want you to do the same to me”

“oh.” the water you just drank felt useless, you set them aside, your chest tightens and your throat constricts itself in a way it’s not supposed to. of course you’re scared, this is your first, after all. your first to like someone beyond infatuation, beyond of “just because”, and oh, it’s leaving you so speechless.

“tetsurou” you try it in your tongue. it tastes rather sweet.

“mm” he couldn’t agree more, if the pink in his cheeks traveling to the tips of his ears says anything. “now it feels real.”

“feels real?” he steps forward, brushing your hair absentmindedly.

“that we’re close.”

you place your hand over his, which eventually rests at the side of your face. you look at him. he looks at you. “you want this? you want to be closer?”

he nods, his eyes turning misty. “more than…god…..yes. more than you’ll ever know.”

you do the same—although twice. you nod twice to affirm him, you cup his face with both your palms to not let him or you fall astray. you say, “i want this too. more than i can express.”

you smile, presenting yourself whole. he presses your forehead with his and exhales, “you can start by showing up at our match this week. you’ll cheer for me, won’t ya?”

you had already set the date on your calendar, chuckling. “of course, tetsurou.”

the highest level of happiness sits with tetsurou, as if he had won the match himself. but that he had won your heart instead. “thank you, thank you.”

(you’ve been there for him, and you’ll be there for him again, because you can, because you choose to be.)

───・・✦

kenma could lie at this moment to be polite, that he understood entirely. he could be nodding and averting his gaze or he could even utter nothing at all.

though there’s a multitude of things he could do, he tilts his head instead. pensive. you hear him hum slowly, “so, you’re the one he opened up to me about how there’s this person he couldn’t approach back then. he sulked for days.”

you couldn’t help but laugh. it’s almost silly when you try to imagine it.

“and then midterms. that explains why he was…” he grimaces, “acting like a girl in love.”

it cracks you up. he’s probably traumatized by the sight. “i feel like you’re just backstabbing him now.”

“i am.” the edges of his lips curl, soft things, such a rare view to behold.

“what else did he show?”

“you’re backstabbing him too.”

“i need to know!”

“know what, sweetheart?“

kenma, just as quickly as it goes, looks at tetsurou dead in the eye. “none that concerns you.”

you look up at man you’ve been talking about since the start and turn quiet, teasing him further.

he looks at you, at your feigning clueless expression, and as if flustered he stutters “it’s about me, am i right or am i right???”

“everything isn’t always about you, kuro.”

“you’re acting defensive kenma! and you!” he points at you, holding it in with your hand clasped against your mouth. your face warm. shoulders shaking as you contain yourself. he walks up to you with arms finding purchase at the dip of your waist, he lowers his voice, coaxing you “what’s gotten you so happy now, hm?” it’s contagious, he thinks.

you echo kenma, as you offer nothing but a peck to his cheeks. “like what he said, it’s nothing.”

“i knew leaving you with him was a bad idea.” you wave when bokuto hollered something about he’ll be back in a minute. kenma swiftly excuses himself but also makes an imitation of texting and your brows crease in a sense of knowing. “see what i mean? what was that??”

when you turn to him, warmth flourishes. “you know how i feel about you, right?”

“that’s sudden.” he takes in your sight, combing your hair, a habit of his you’ve come to adore. “i do know, why do you ask?”

“are you sureee?”

“yes. i’m sure.” and then, with both hands now cupping your face, he kisses you. short and sweet. “never been so sure in my life.”

the highest level of happiness sits with you in a manner so similar to his. “thank you, tetsu. thank you”

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generalllimaginesss · 8 months

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Here’s a little piece based on Megan Moroney’s song Reasons to Stay.

Warnings: angsty bf! Jack, toxic relationship (you can usually tell if I’m depressed or not based on what I post lmao), but like this is really really toxic so don’t read if that’s a trigger for you. I think I made myself go crazy while rereading it.

Reasons to Stay

I asked Jesus for a sign

And today I haven’t cried

It’s only 2 p.m. but that beats yesterday

So I guess that’s a reason to stay

The status of having an NHL boyfriend was alluring to a lot of girls. The fame was something that always felt new, thousands of people, strangers, screaming the name that you hold near and dear to your heart. The money eased the fear of bills and gave a freedom the average person would never experience in their lifetime. The influence that you hold as a WAG always playing in the back of your mind anytime your finger hovered over a button to post a picture, wondering if the caption was classy enough to hold your status.

The truth is that looks can be deceiving. The girls that threw themselves at Jack made for a constant state of insecurities to pool in your brain, sloshing around anytime Jack was home late or turned his location off. The money bought things that made you smile, a Louis Vuitton here, a Mercedes there, but the feeling of being in debt to the man that let hate spew from his mouth anytime you accidentally stepped out of line pulled at your being, anxiety grasping at the freedom, one not capable of being present without the other.

Was it really freedom?

Was it the price of freedom?

Maybe.

Maybe the price was the amount of tears that flowed when he rejected an outfit for you to wear.

“You’re not leaving in that. I don’t date sluts and that makes you look like one,” his reasoning rang, slicing through your ears and bouncing around anytime you bought clothes.

Today was a good day, though.

He had kissed you goodbye, asking if you would be making dinner tonight.

He’d be home tonight, you thought, willing yourself to think positive and fighting against the urge to dwell on the fact that he had come home with a hickey the night prior. He insisted it was a hickey, but you weren’t too sure about that.

But he’s yours tonight, that’s all that matters. That keeps you going; the possibility that tomorrow he will be yours is your driving thought. So you went about your day as if the life you were living were a dream and that you were living the life as the girlfriend of a famous hockey player who made millions.

Maybe it’s normal to have to be small. Maybe you just have to compensate for the huge platform that he had. He had earned it after all.

Seriously, what did you do other than keep the house tidy and go to his games? That’s normal….right?

You just had to tell yourself that it would be ok. It would be harder and messier to leave than try to push through.

And when you’re drunk at 3 a.m.

You don’t call your ex-girlfriend

It’s been a couple months since you

Brought up her name.

So I guess that’s a reason to stay.

The guys had gone out after a win, guys only. No girlfriends or wives. That’s what Jack said, at least. They were celebrating the guys achievements, some records broken, and it was just for them.

That was fine with you. He had an amazing game: his second hatty of his career. He needed a night to let off some steam and just be a boy.

The picture of him and Nico with Jack’s ex looming in the background was just a coincidence, yeah? Jack said she was a puck bunny, so she’s probably just going from guy to guy.

As soon as he walked through the door, the smell of bourbon wafted through the air, attaching itself to every air molecule in the apartment and meeting you like a familiar friend. This wasn’t the first time he had come home in this state. It wasn’t even the 5th or 6th.

“You’re up,” Jack’s words were slower than normal, the effort to produce the words coherently proving to be more tasking than normal. He took in the view of you curled up in an Ugg blanket on the plush cushions of the couch, noticing the lines that the tears had been drawing for the past hour. He took note, but not responsibility. He told you where he was and what he was doing, no harm no foul.

“Just couldn’t go to sleep,” Your voice was weakened, something you despised about yourself. You used to view yourself as strong and independent. Sticking up for what was right was was something you took pride in, but being in a relationship with Jack had slowly chipped away at that, so nonchalantly that you were the skeleton of who you once were before you could do anything about it.

Jack’s balance teetered from the left to the right, making a ship at sea during a storm look like a walk through the park. He stumbled as he tried to take his shoes off, a cue that you learned meant you needed to help him.

He did so much for you, so would it really be awful to just help him out?

As you slipped one AirForce off, you took notice of the bruises that feathered his legs, probably from the intense game tonight.

You could feel courage bubble, coming to a boil before you made your next statement, “I noticed your ex in a picture that Nico posted…what’s that about?”

“Baby,” He slurred, attempting to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear but pulling it instead, kissing your forehead after you winced at the tension. “You’re the only one that matters,” And with that he sucked you right back into his intoxicating blue eyes. They held a secret confession of his love for you. One that only you could see and he could feel.

But you don’t try like you used to

You don’t look at me the same

You used to say you’re sorry, now

Whiskey’s what you blame

How much can a heart take

‘Til it’s really your last chance

I’m a giver, but I’ve given all I can

We both know that I ain’t one to walk away

But I’m runnin’ out of reasons to stay

Things hadn’t always been like this.

Jack hadn’t always been like this.

He used to surprise you at work with two dozen roses, or wrote sweet love notes on sticky notes and stuck them to your vanity. He used to put in effort.

He used to want you.

What were you thinking, of course he still wanted you. He wouldn’t be in a relationship with you for the whole world to see if he didn’t want you, right?

He hadn’t bought flowers in a long time, though, and the sticky notes had slowly made their way to a drawer for safekeeping, none there to replace them. The vanity was bare, loneliness radiating from it every time you passed it, the feeling resonating in your soul.

It was as lonely as you.

Jack had come home drunk again last night, the smell of the liquor laced the words he shot at you with a poison that made them burn when they hit you. Everything that came out of his mouth felt like lashes against your skin.

“You’re so fucking boring, Y/N! You think you’re so perfect and you’re not! You think you’re better than everybody around you, but you’re not! You’re a fucking bitch, you cunt!”

He went on like that for at least an hour, going on and on about how he deserved better, how he could have anybody he wanted but settled for you.

It hurt even worse because it was so untrue. You battled with yourself for years because you compared yourself to those around you constantly. Jack knew this. He had been there for your breakdowns when your family had made you feel like a disappointment, or when you never thought you would be as pretty or talented as the other girls in the hockey scene.

Did he just forget this?

How were you going to smooth this over with him?

It felt like all you did was make excuses for him just to be able to live with him.

Why?

How did he completely change you? Wreck you? He had gutted out who you once were and left the bare beams that held you up. He had conditioned you to allow him chance after chance, no matter how bad he had fucked up.

And you just let him.

As the sun played a game of peekaboo through the curtains, you had made up your mind that you couldn’t justify the way he was treating you anymore. It was wrong.

The smell of bacon and eggs lured you into the kitchen to see him shirtless, standing over the stove as he busied himself with making breakfast. His back muscles flexed as he maneuvered about the stove. He looked perfect, as if he hadn’t verbally assaulted you and your character last night.

Before you could say anything, he had sensed that he was being watched, catching a glimpse of you as he turned his head slightly to the left.

“Morning. Didn’t wake you up, did I?” His voice was raspy, probably from partying for most of the night, but it sounded like he cared. It was refreshing.

“N-no. Um, I just felt like I should get up,” Reassuring him felt like an attempt to just keep the peace. Don’t say anything to set him off, don’t be combative. He’s cooking breakfast for you, so everything’s ok.

“Good. Hey, about last night…I’ll be honest I don’t remember what I said, but if it was bad it was just from me drinking too much. The boys may have gotten me to drink more than I normally do…” he trailed off as he plated the breakfast he had made for you, placing it on a placemat at the bar and pouring a cup of coffee for you, 3 creams and 2 sugars.

He remembered.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” You walked to the bar taking a seat.

The morning consisted of the two of you genuinely enjoying the presence of the other, catching up on what’s going on in each other’s lives and promising to not let it get this way anymore.

Before Jack left for practice, he had placed a kiss to your lips ever so gently, “I love you,” he whispered, his voice soft and sweet.

How was this the same Jack from last night?

You were sure that you had to be going crazy.

If I go find somebody new

I’d lose your mom and sister too

You know me and how much I hate change

So I guess that’s a reason to stay

And I ain’t perfect either, we all make mistakes

But that don’t change

The Michigan sunset was absolutely breathtaking. The orange and purple hues painting a picture so perfect that it could never be replicated on a canvas. The distant sounds of the guys on the lake could be heard in the distance, the chill of the wind carrying the hoots and hollers from the water to you and Ellen, sitting on the deck attached to the back of the house.

The smell of the deck and the sound of the hundreds of frogs from the water felt like a dream, one that you never wanted to wake up from.

“Jack would probably kill me if he heard me say this, but I really hope you two get married soon. I’d love to have you as my daughter, you know? These boys are a lot sometimes…” Ellen chuckled as she nodded to the boys in the distance.

The comment caught you off guard, a response in favor felt forced, but how were you supposed to tell her that her son was making your life a living hell?

“You’d have to take that up with him,” You smiled at her, not revealing the relationship that was slowly eating away at you.

“I promised to never pressure them to do something that they weren’t ready for, so I’ll let him choose the right time. I just know we all love you. Anytime the other two call home they always ask how you’re doing. I know they talk to Jack about you, too. We didn’t think he’d ever be ready to settle down with a girlfriend, much less one as amazing as you,” She went on, pulling her jacket tighter around her as the absence of the sun left goosebumps on her skin.

“It’s getting cold out here, let’s head inside and you can help me make dinner. I believe we have some wine if you’d like some,” She stood up and headed to the kitchen, waiting for you to follow suite, you smiled.

It was almost a sad smile, grateful that even though Jack wasn’t the man he should’ve been for you, his family loved you. They made you feel safe and loved. They were a safe haven from the toxic tendencies that Jack had taken up when the two of you were in New Jersey.

“I’d love that, Ellen.”

The sound of bare feet padding rapidly against the blades of grass that ran from the dock to the deck made you and Ellen turn your heads towards the window, watching on as Quinn, Luke, and Jack were racing towards the house.

Luke won, his long legs giving him an unfair advantage against his shorter counterparts. Quinn came in second as Jack has tripped over himself.

“What’s for dinner?” Luke panted, reaching for a water bottle out of the fridge and attempting to sit on the couch.

“You’ll find out after you change out of your wet swim trunks,” Ellen gave him a stern look, him raising his arms in defense as he left to go to his room for dry clothes.

You felt an arm snake around your waist, the smell of lake water and sunscreen following behind it. At first you jumped, worried that you had done something wrong.

He chuckled at the sudden movement, not realizing that he was the problem.

“Jumpy, are we?”

You smiled, trying to not cause an issue with him.

“Sorry. Wasn’t expecting you to be so cold,” You felt nasty as you lied through your teeth.

After a few minutes, he finally decided to retreat to the shower to wash the day off of him. You took in your surroundings while he was away.

Quinn and Luke played the Xbox while Ellen prepared the vegetables for dinner and Jim smoked the meat outside. You had been loving this family for years now. You and Ellen had become so close, easily somebody you loved as if she were your own mother.

Jack wouldn’t be the only person that you would have to let go of if you were to leave. As much as you loved his family, it was only natural for them to take his side, something that you understood and admired. You could only wish somebody would take up for you no matter what, and he had 4 people willing to do that for him.

You couldn’t imagine the thought of having to start over with somebody new, having to meet their parents for the first time and being disappointed that they weren’t Ellen and Jim. Being disappointed that their siblings wouldn’t pay the extra money when they accidentally forgot to keep your Snapchat streak going since it was almost 4 years long. Quinn and Luke texted you almost as often as they texted Jack. You were like their sister.

The thought of starting over was enough to have tears stinging at the corner of your eyes. Whatever Jack had done, you couldn’t expect him to be perfect. He’s human, after all. You’d stay if it meant you could keep the Hughes in your life.

I'm runnin' out of patience

Damn, I hate to say it

I'm runnin' out of patience and grace and at the end of the day

Findin' last resort reasons we're okay

Ain't a good reason to stay

“Jack you have purple bruises all on your fucking neck! How stupid do you think I am?!” You barked at him as he sat on the couch facing you.

“Stupid enough to think this is the first time this has happened,” His smug smirk and body language made you want to hurt him. You wanted to hurt him as bad as he’s hurt you for so long now.

“I hate you. I fucking hate you, Jack Hughes. You are the most disgusting person I have ever met and I hope your life becomes a living hell that you can never get out of,” The words came out calmly despite their harsh meaning. It was eerie, making the hairs on Jack’s neck stand up.

“Where do you think you’re going,” He watched as you made your way to the shared bedroom, hearing the sound of a suitcase zipper open.

He jumped up, heading straight for you, but froze as he watched you throw clothes into the suitcase. When that one became full you found another one to shove your clothes into, until the only things left were things you didn’t normally wear.

“What are you doing?” He spat, realizing that the grip he had on you was being relinquished.

“What does it fucking look like? I’m done. I’ve gone crazy trying to love you and I want out. I can’t do this anymore!” You tried to yell, but your throat constricted as it tried its best to sob. You refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you like that, though. He had put you in this state of survival long enough.

“You’re going to regret this…” He trailed off, following you as you threw everything into your car.

“Maybe so, Jack. But I will never regret it as much as I regret falling in love with you. You are an awful person, and I hope everybody will see that one day,” You slammed the door shut and put the car in reverse.

As you made your way down the driveway and street, Jack’s figure became smaller and smaller. Nobody would ever make you feel this way ever again, and you felt sorry for whoever fell into the trap that is Jack Hughes after you.

HAHA IM SO SORRY!! Also this in no way reflects who Jack is in real life because I, obviously, don’t know him personally. This was so bad though, so I’m actually really sorry.

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #jack hughes #nhl fanfiction #quinn hughes #trevor zegras #alex turcotte #cole caufield #jack hughes imagines #nico hischier #jh86 #toxic relationship #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #megan moroney

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cuubism · 2 years

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as funny as it is to imagine dreamling from an outsider perspective, I think dream and hob as FRIENDS is actually funnier. while dream/hob as a committed relationship might be hard for outsiders to comprehend -- "why is Dream of the Endless dating some random human?" "Why is this presumably reasonable human dating known World's Worst Boyfriend, Dream of the Endless?" -- they can rationalize it with some effort. "Well, all the ancient entities that want to fuck each other have by this point in history, and sometimes you need something new I guess????" "Morpheus IS hot and powerful so I guess you just put up with a lot of bullshit???"

But them as friends is impossible to rationalize in any other way than just "they genuinely enjoy hanging out" which must be wild for any outsiders. Cuz Dream isn't even offering Hob anything for spending time with him? He's immortal but that's Death's gift. (Other immortal entities: who would willingly do this.) And Hob hasn't like... done any tasks for Dream or anything? So why is Dream here.

A bunch of them witness Hob giving Dream some cookies he baked or something, and half of them decide they need to rescue Hob from possession because clearly that's the only explanation. Another group stages an intervention for Dream -- "what does this human possibly have on you?"

Hob is suitably offended that no one thinks Dream worthy of having any friends. ("Also, your first mistake was assuming I was reasonable.") Meanwhile, Dream is having a very dysfunctional epiphany: of COURSE there must be a catch, how can he have an actual friend? And disappears to the Dreaming for six weeks with no word, thereby proving why he's been Friendless thus far.

(And finally convincing all onlookers that this inexplicable relationship is actually real when Hob breaks down Dream's palace door like, "you forgot to take your fucking cookies for your sulking session, you self-destructive idiot.")

#the immortal community writes hob off as a lost cause after that #dream of course has been a lost cause for 3000 years #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling

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yannaryartside · 1 month

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Carmy doesn’t wanna be with Claire despite his trauma, but because of it

So, I was working in a meta about the roles of Chef David, Claire and Sydney in Carmy’s character arc. But I think there is something that can be a point of its own, let’s see if I can explain myself correctly.

I have read opinions about how once Carmy work things out with Donna (that recent la times interview had Calo mentioning how they mirrored Claire shots after Donna’s shot) and many people came to that conclusion of how Carmy wanting to be with Claire is sabotaged by his trauma.

And that is a valid take and it could be what it is, but I don’t think it makes sense. No if you let abuse be a realistic player in the equation. Let me explain.

Abuse breaks your perception of yourself and the world, and sometimes you are gonna choose a partner based on that perception. Falling in love /having crushes is something that comes from our subconscious and can be deeply conditioned.

Carmy had a mother that ignored/neglected/abused him while constantly comparing him to his brother. Then he got a head chef that humiliated him, got him so scared that was physically sick and mentally damaged. All of this is self hatred fuel. He once thought he was abused because he wasn’t good enough. (This is what you wanted, to be the best) to the point he subconsciously thinks is okay to continue the cycle of abuse as long as he gets the star. (Btw he didn’t wanted it for Syd as a gift, he wanted it to prove her and his former chef that he could succeed on his own terms, the star was his revenge).

Let’s talk Claire. He had this crush in this girl that was nice to everyone, even him with how “defective” he felt. Then miraculously this girl said that even from then she had a crush on him. She is easy and doesn’t have a problem with any of his very serious mental health issues and immaturity. He feels good enough with Claire not because he is bettering himself from an honest place (like with Sydney at times) but because Claire doesn’t ask for even basic human accountability. This is enabling to someone with a healthy mindset. But for Carmy, it is heaven, and in s3 he thinks he lost that.

I think this is the reason we don’t know shit about Claire (her hobbies, the story of her family, dreams or aspirations) because the only thing that matters to the story (Carmy’s story) is the comfort and amusement she provides. Addicts choose different drugs based on what they want (feel happy, forget, adrenaline) and Claire is the perfect drug to each one of Carmy’s core wounds.

She represents the social approval he didn’t have growing up (Michael and his family wanted them together, she is from the cool group of kids he wanted to hang out with, and Claire even acted as vehicle to Carmy feeling part of that hight school experience in the frat party)

Carmy doesn’t have to guess her humor because she puts an effort (I think) on being amenable all the time. She has all easy similes while Donna has faces of disgust and anger)

She has this perpetual need to be around and take care of broken people (her drunk friends, her patients, the stupid Faks) while never criticizing them or asking them to change (it is cool that Michael set things on fire, she hooks the Faks with her friends, she tells carmy to never apologize)

There is an extra dark side to all of this, because this relationship is not only very superficial but very relying on both of them playing the role of the “broken boyfriend” and the “saint girlfriend” but that is a topic for its own meta.

Now, some examples based on personal experience to bring more context to this point. Trigger warnings:descriptions of physical and philosophical abuse.

My mother was engaged once with a man that was physically abusive, then she left him and married my dad, a man that respected her for her brain and never hurt her with his hands, but was manipulative and psychologically abusive. For years she accepted this “lesser” (in her words) type of abuse and described their relationship as “the best she ever had” because that is the broken perspection she has still. If you are hungry, you learn to eat garbage.

When you hate yourself, you may accept anything that tells you nothing is wrong with you, or tells you how “fix” you. That’s how cults get you, that’s how others abusers get you, surgeries, scams, you are a pigeon that will collaborate in being taken advantage of and you will be thankful for it. This is not victim blaming, abusers know the characteristics of a person that is not gonna fight back, the one that keeps believing they deserve the abuse. That’s why is so difficult to break of this cycles. The show decided to use the toxicity of the industry to show how an abusive person (Carmen) is gonna jump from abuse to abuse of he still believes he deserve it. All 3 berzatto siblings have self hate integrated to different extremes. Mickey hated himself till the point of drug addiction and suicide. Nat does it so she believes is her responsibility that everyone is all right even if it cost her greatly.

I want to bring this last point home:

Our traumas protect us sometimes, if ever questioning the believes that formed after them.

If Carmy ever confronts Donna, he will realize he was never defective, that bettering himself is something he is worth for, and then could choose a partner, based on a true understanding of himself and being able to find real compatibility, not just momentary relive for his pain and a distortion of acceptance. He doesn’t need to keep believing he is broken.

Anyhow, thank you for reading.

#the bear #therapy is the key #sydcarmy #sydney adamu #the bear fx #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #the bear meta #carmy x sydney #carmy the bear #sydney x carmy #anti claire bear

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joelmillers-whore · 1 year

Text

Couldn't Help It

summary: getting sick was not part of the plan and letting your boyfriend frankie take care of you while you’re sick was definitely not in that plan either.

word count: 2.4K

series or one-shot

warnings: no warnings for this one. just some sweet ol’ fluff for you all today. some mild swearing i guess, frankie morales x f!reader

A/N: this is my first frankie fic so please be nice lol. not that y’all wouldn’t be. this is just a very short fic to start off with, i promise i’ll write some smut for him next time. enjoy and don’t hesitate to comment, reblog, and leave a like.

tags: @hellishjoel @ilovepedro

You’d felt it the night before, the burning and the scratchiness in the back of your throat. You tried to ignore it, tried to will the start of your illness away. You had popped every godforsaken pill out there and took enough sleeping medicine to knock out a small elephant, determined to head it off at the pass.

Nothing seemed to help you and now you were confined to your bed, fighting against a pounding headache and racking up a killer fever. You could have probably pushed through the ailments, continued on like nothing was wrong and completed your thesis as normal.

But pushing yourself to your limit time and time again, staying up until the early hours and only nabbing a couple of hours of sleep was surely the main reason why you were sick now. It was your body's way of telling you to slow down.

For months, you had been running on fumes, trying to get to the end of the tunnel after so many years of rigorous schooling. You’d never needed a break, or never wanted to stop and take one, and now you were being forced to.

Although now, school seemed like a distant thought, actually, every thought seemed distant, like they were just on the outskirts of your mind, clouded in a sickness-induced fog that you couldn’t seem to wade through, no matter how hard you tried.

Every limb felt heavy as you attempted to maneuver around your apartment, you felt weak and tired and on some level, even vulnerable. You couldn’t function normally, you couldn’t even do something as normal as drink water. This definitely wasn’t your run-of-the-mill common cold, you’d thought. This had to be the thing that wiped out the dinosaurs.

You tossed and turned in your bed, trying to get comfortable, your body aching and your ears ringing. You had to periodically swallow, on account of the build-up of pressure in your ears, which was proving to be annoying.

Sweat clung to every surface, feeling unbearable as you become either too hot or too cold, casting your blanket off of yourself and then pulling it back over you a minute later, your body succumbing to a full body chill.

Your lids dropped closed, the call of sleep loud enough now that you couldn’t ignore it. Sleep seemed like a good idea, a great idea even, and you let yourself slip under with little resistance.

You didn’t know how long you had been asleep for, it could have been minutes, it could have been days, but all you knew was that you were feeling somewhat better. You were still a far cry from being a hundred percent, but it was something.

It was still difficult to swallow, and your throat was still scratchy and dry, but now, your head wasn’t pounding and your body temperature was starting to regulate itself. You were coasting along with your high fever, a daze settling over you as you stripped off your layers, trying to cool down.

Still feeling groggy from sleep, you hadn’t heard the door at first, but your ears perked up when it got louder, your body jolting up in bed at the incessant pounding coming from your front door. You groaned, wondering who it could be.

You certainly weren’t expecting anyone and you sure as hell were going to be pissed if it was your creepy neighbour again, wanting to ask you out for the millionth time. Sliding out from the warmth of your covers, you really, really didn’t want to see anyone right now, not when you probably looked like something that crawled out of a sewer.

Hoisting yourself up from the bed on wobbly legs, you padded out of your bedroom, crossed the apartment, and pulled open your door. Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head, surprised to see who had been on the other side of your door. It was Frankie, your boyfriend.

Frankie had been to your apartment before, but only briefly and you had thought that he had forgotten your address entirely. It wasn’t as if he was an unwelcome sight, quite the opposite actually. He stood straight, tall, and he towered over you. His unkempt curls peeked out from underneath his signature baseball cap and a weak smirk was present on his face.

His arms were crossed but his aura was anything but unpleasant. His light green button-up was stretched tight across his chest and bulging arm muscles, pulling the material so snuggly that you thought it would rip and if you were feeling better, you would have liked to see that happen. You still wanted to, if you were honest with yourself.

Frankie’s coffee-brown eyes were blown, a tick of worry flooding them as he looked at you— only you. Your heart hammered in your throat, an air of restlessness settling over you at the realization that Frankie was worried about you, for some reason.

You hadn’t been dating each other long, it had only been about four months, but the way that Frankie always seemed to look at you, with adoration and a soft protectiveness, similar to how he was looking at you now, made your stomach erupt with an incomparable amount of flutters.

You leaned your head against the frame of the door, eying Frankie as he analyzed you, and studied you like you were his favourite book. It should have unnerved you, the intensity of it, but the idea of him being so concerned with your well-being calmed you.

“Hi”, you said, your voice coming out raspier than you were expecting.

Frankie inched forward subtly, his hand mindlessly drifting to your hip, “Hey”, he paused. His eyes flicked down the length of you, those bushy brows creasing, “Are you okay?”.

Your lips tipped up at the sides, pulling into a light smile. All you could do was hum your reply, suddenly overcome with tiredness again.

“I was worried ‘bout you. Haven’t heard from you in two days”, Frankie muttered, trying to hide how worried he actually was about you. But at this point, even if your current state, you could pick up on his different cadences.

Your eyebrows knitted together, “Has it really been two days?”.

Time almost seemed to stand still when you were sick, the concept foreign to you when you couldn’t even think straight.

He nods, his pupils blown and fixated on you. “What’s going on?”.

You chewed on your lower lip, tugging at the sensitive skin harshly as you debated your next words. It was a simple enough question and it deserved a clear, simple answer. But for some reason, when you opened your mouth to speak, nothing came out.

This was the first time that Frankie had seen you like this— had seen you as this frail and feeble version of yourself, and you didn’t like it. Because this wasn’t who you were and it wasn’t who you wanted to be thought of as. Someone who needed to be helped and someone who always needed saving, and you definitely didn’t want Frankie to see you that way.

So instead of giving him the direct answer, you opted for, “Nothing, ‘m fine”.

Frankie scanned your face, his face twitching imperceptibly, like he didn’t believe you at all.

“You’re not”, he tightened his grip on your hip, “You don’t look fine”.

You forced a chuckle from your throat, thinking that the garbled noise was close enough to pass as a laugh, “Thanks...”.

He sighed, shuffling his cap on his head nervously, “That’s not what I meant... I just meant, you don’t look like yourself”.

His other hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb running across your cheekbone softly, lovingly. Your eyes flitted closed at his touch, soaking in the feeling and almost moaning from how good it felt. But you held yourself back.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to continue holding yourself up, your weakened strength waning the longer you stood. You needed to sit down, or rather lie down, but with Frankie there, you couldn’t exactly escape to your bed without admitting to him that something was wrong with you.

Pushing yourself off of the door, you shuffled to the living room, plopping down on the couch with a small groan. Frankie wordlessly closed your door, following you deeper into your apartment. He stood above you, pulling his cap off and running a hand through his already tussled curls.

The action was more mesmerizing than you wanted to admit, and you found yourself licking your dry lips.

Frankie smiled down at you, his eyes gleaming in the low light of the lamp that was next to you. His deft fingers raised to your chin, tipping your head up so that your eyes met his, “You’re not feeling well, hm?”.

You shook your head, still adamant about remaining strong, “Told you, I’m fine”.

Frankie’s face fell, those gleaming eyes losing their shine, “Don’t lie to me. I thought we didn’t do that with each other”.

Your gut soured at the thought. It was true, you never wanted to lie to Frankie and still keeping him at arm’s length was killing you. But it wasn’t like you did it on purpose, not consciously anyway. A string of shitty ex-boyfriends who had left their mark on you made you weary of trusting anyone you were seeing.

But Frankie wasn’t like any of them, he wasn’t like anyone you’d ever met actually. He was kind and he was the best man you’d ever known. He didn’t force you into situations that made you uncomfortable, or manipulate you emotionally just because he could.

And he didn’t deserve to be shut out. You rolled your shoulders back, taking a stabilizing breath. “This is humiliating”, you mumbled.

Frankie’s lips twitched, his fingers still holding onto your chin, “Why?”.

“Because...”, you sighed, avoiding his eyes, “I just... I’m not used to needing anyone”, you paused, trying to get out what you were thinking without stumbling over your words, “It’s just been me for a long time, and I’ve always been able to take care of myself”.

Your eyes flitted back to Frankie’s, your face heating with embarrassment at your confession. You thought you’d see anger or hurt in his eyes, but he was still smiling down on you, only faint amusement on his face.

“Well, get used to it because you’re not alone anymore. So, let me take care of you. Because I want to”.

Your breath came out shaky, only now realizing that those were the exact words that you needed to hear. Emotion bubbled in your chest, constricting your throat and rendering you speechless.

You simply nodded, while Frankie’s fingers slipped from your chin and he grabbed your hand instead, helping you to your feet and leading you back to your bedroom. Even though you had only been awake for a short while, your mind and body were already exhausted, and by the look on Frankie’s face, he knew it.

He lifted the covers over your body, leaning over and kissing your temple, humming sweetly as he pulled back. He turned, heading out of your bedroom, when you took hold of his hand, stopping him.

“Will you stay?”, you asked, meely. The feeling of needing someone so much scared you, but the look of pure giddiness on Frankie’s face overtook that unsure weight on your chest and replaced it with something infinitely lighter.

He nodded, “‘Course, just wanted to get a wet cloth, might help bring down your fever”.

Frankie’s hand drifted to your forehead, the back of it laying flatly against your skin, cooling it down significantly already. You let your eyes drift closed, nodding absentmindedly as Frankie’s hand stayed where it was for a little longer.

“Be right back”, he whispered, leaving your side temporarily.

You’d fallen back asleep sometime after he left, dazed sleep taking over you. Your eyes only cracked open slightly when you felt your mattress dip and a cold sensation on your forehead. You tried to mumble something, but it came out jumbled.

Frankie smoothed back your hair, stroking your head rhythmically as he spoke, “Shhh, just rest. I’ll be right here when you wake up”.

His presence and the feeling of his subtle touch against your clammy skin were enough to lull you back to sleep. There was something inside of you that had always yearned for this, for the closeness outside of sex. The intimacy of a relationship. Frankie wanted to be here, he wanted to take care of you, and he cared for you in a way that your past boyfriends hadn’t, that much was clear.

Your heart clenched in its cavity when you felt Frankie lower himself onto the bed, behind you, and scooted closer so that his front was flush with your back. His arms wrapped around you, his face nestled into the crook between your neck and shoulder.

He peppered scratchy kisses along your exposed skin, his trimmed facial hair tickling your exposed skin.

“You didn’t have to stay”, you mumbled. Only now recognizing that you had been asleep for the whole night, the sunlight cascading in and bathing the whole room with light.

“Couldn’t help it, I needed to make sure that you were okay”.

You turned your body around in Frankie’s grip, letting your head fall against his shoulder, your eyes meeting his inky irises. The light bounced on one side of his face, lightening up his features and highlighting the most memorable parts of him.

Like his slightly crooked nose that you loved to dot with kisses, his smile lines that you couldn’t help but trace with your index finger. Or his loose brown curls that you loved to run your hand through and tug on roughly when he kissed you.

Your hand met his cheek, stroking it gently. You leaned in, planting a small kiss onto his lips. He smiled against you, deepening it and slowly devouring you.

You pulled back, “Thank you”.

Frankie dragged you closer to him by your waist, pulling you into his atmosphere. You felt safe and comfortable lying in his arms, embracing the quiet moment between you two. Maybe it was comfort you were feeling but maybe it was something deeper, something you had been afraid to admit until now.

You were falling in love with Frankie Morales, you were sure of that now. And you didn’t think you’d be able to stop it, not that you really wanted to. But that was a confession for another time, right now you were falling asleep in his strong hold, content and intent to keep yourself close to him for as long as he’d let you.

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theerurishipper · 11 months

Text

Welcome to me watching the Paris special, this time with commentary! I watched the special and wrote down everything here as I watched it and forgot to post it cause I'm a dumbass. Also, this is long asf, in fact, it's so long that I had to make a Part 2.

Okay here goes!

Ah, the Gabriel version of the theme. This really took me by surprise. It's fire tho.

Straight into the action, I like it.

Max and Markov aren't different people in this?

That's some entrance from Shady and Claw, really ups the stakes. Makes you wonder why Nino tried to fight them with a nerf gun.

Ubiquity is so pretty.

I might be the only one who liked the Gabe scene we got.

Feeling some nostalgia for the candy cane cosplay ngl.

And we get a good scene with Adrien and Plagg. I liked the advice Plagg gave about how not all destruction is bad. Neat.

Some Alya and Marinette. Marinette is going through some tough times and is in need of support, and Tikki takes this opportunity to escape from her and steal macaroons. No hate tho, you do you Tikki.

Though she does react to the people of Paris cheering for Ladybug. That was sweet.

Alya turns into Ubiquity, and then we get... Betterfly.

Betterfly? Seriously? Coulda just gone with Hesperia.

"I'm not sure there's anything to hope for from Ladybug." My poor baby!

Love the look of absolute confusion on Alya's face.

Hesperia's confusion about his evil counterpart is really funny ngl.

SHADYBUG

"There, you can have your boyfriend back~" love the delivery on that line lmao.

But also, CLAW NOIR

Not her just stealing his belt immediately.

Marinette hates Adrien Agreste. This truly is the reverse world.

But also, I love Claw Noir pretending to be his own fan to impress Shadybug.

Claw Noir sure does love using that Cataclysm.

For someone who just woke up to see her friend gone and a hole in the wall, Alya collected herself pretty damn quick. I would be freaking the fuck out in her position. Just another reason she's the best.

RIP Alya's phone. Gabe really did a number on you.

Shadybug makes a butterfly tracker, proving that she ain't no Gabe.

Hesperia is befuddled by our world, Part 2.

It's always gotta be the Eiffel Tower, doesn't it.

Claw Noir's pulling a Chat Blanc?? Hello??

Hesperia (I'm not gonna call him Betterfly) is apparently a gentleman. It's almost disturbing after 5 seasons of Gabe being the worst piece of shit to grace our screens.

I guess no matter the universe and moral alignment, it's Gabriel's fate to get beaten up by teenagers.

Not Tikki loredumping about parallel universes right now lmao

Times like this remind me that Tikki is, for all intents and purposes, a god.

"You'd die before I could ever explain all this to you," is actually a pretty valid (and disturbingly hilarious) justification for not having bothered to bring any of this up before.

The Supreme is someone I'd like to learn more about. I've narrowed the suspects down to either Fu or Su-Han. Watch it be Lila instead if we ever get that info.

I feel like the info about the timers is something we should have gotten way, way earlier. Like, a few seasons ago.

Ladybug's triumphant entrance!

"Whatever, pest." Queen.

I love Claw Noir's staff.

Shadybug took no prisoners at all.

CHAT NOIR

Destruction vibes, and right after that incident too.

Claw Noir is unhinged.

Claw Noir just fucking cataclysmed himself??? Guess Adrien is always gonna be self-destructive in every universe huh?

Welp, looks like Chat Noir is officially re-traumatized.

I want y'all to remember that this boy went through the whole special with a cataclysm wound on his person and did not falter once. Mad respect.

Chat Noir got tossed. Chat Blanc call back number 2.

Obsessed with the way Bryce Papenbrook pronounces "cockroach."

Finally, a villain who actually gets rid of the Lucky Charm. Hawkie, take notes.

"Who the cat are you?"

So Shadybug can create whatever Lucky Charm she wants, huh?

Someone's been listening to the fandom.

Not the time freezing lmfao

I don't like that Gabe is turning Adrien into an angel, even if this is a good version. Anyway, Chat Blanc call back 3.

"Kitty catty" "Later loser!" I love her.

Of course, not all bugs can fly.

He moved out of the way.

I fucking love Claw Noir so much you guys, he's so funny.

Well, he tried. Shadybug's just better than him ig.

Hesperia stores his butterfly in his cane. So it's just our Gabe that tries to keep multiple butterflies, I guess.

I think they should kiss.

So they're doing this in hopes that The Supreme spares them? Interesting, and pretty sad.

They're so scared of the Akuma lmfao

If I was Alya, I'd have given myself away by now. Actually, I wouldn't have had the presence of mind to even hide.

Guess the counterparts are from some dystopian world ruled by The Supreme. It tracks with the look we got at it in the opening.

"In order to get something I wanted." We saw the Peacock Miraculous in the opening too, and also Emilie died. So I guess Adrien is a Sentimonster in the other reality too. Damn it.

I guess this Gabe realized his mistake instead of descending into madness like ours.

She just broke Marinette's box like it was nothing. So much for that.

Claw Noir lounges around playing with dolls and mocks Shadybug for being lazy while she does all the work and he lazes around. Have I mentioned yet that I love him?

Also I am glad they stayed true to Adrien's character and had him play with dolls.

The whole part about Chat Noir... be still my Ladynoir heart.

Love how they incorporated the webisodes into this. About time those had relevance.

Shadybug really "hates" Claw Noir.

Marinette's having doubts, my poor baby girl.

Shadybug and Claw Noir have power, but not their strength. That's a really good line.

She's reading the diary and crying... baby.

This is such a touching scene. I don't say that lightly, but it really is.

SHE FOUND THE WISH

Marinette really wrote down every single world ending secret in this one poorly protected diary huh.

She literally took him down in 2 seconds. Bruh.

IDENTITY REVEAL! THIS IS NOT A DRILL, I REPEAT, THIS IS NOT A DRILL

Shadybug managed to achieve in 2 seconds what Marinette and Adrien have not achieved after 5 seasons of Love Square drama which I admittedly enjoy but that's not the point.

Those strange... marks? Cracks? Scars?

Blots off... I'm dying y'all.

Reverse Love Square? Hello??? HELLO???

She literally just beat his ass, tied him up and took his Miraculous and this is his reaction once he realizes who she is.

He's down so bad.

They should have played Careless Whisper here.

CUTIE PIE, MY SON

The Supreme is such a fucking asshole, he gagged the Kwamis.

Emonette wants our Marinette's life? She doesn't know the half of what she's getting into.

The Supreme got to the wish somehow? What the fuck?

"Reality is The Supreme." I don't know who this guy is, but he is DELULU.

This shot... masterfully done. My poor baby girl.

These kids are not okay. My poor sweet babies.

Daggers out. Seriously, stop it, you two.

He's trying to comfort her. They're just... I'm in pain. I'm so sad for them y'all.

Gabe in his prototype Monarch outfit.

Good thing (for him at least) he had the Ox, or else this would be his second cataclysm of the day.

Ladybug and Chat Noir are back in action, baby.

I'm sorry, I would not be able to say Betterfly unironically without bursting into laughter.

AFTER 5 SEASONS, WE FINALLY GET TO SEE CHAT NOIR'S NIGHT VISION AGAIN

Not that they needed it lmao

Alya coming in clutch with the recording. Queen.

LADYNOIR LADYNOIR LADYNOIR

It's so so so nice to see Ladynoir on screen again after Season 5 killed it.

Hit the word limit, so continued here.

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slvthrs · 2 years

Text

WHY DON’T YOU LOVE ME DADDY | vinnie hacker

--- MINORS PLEASE FUCK OFF FOR UR OWN GOOD ---

you don’t think vinnie loves you so you flirt with his friends, he proves that your his

ROOMMATE!VINNIE X FEM!READER

WARNINGS: NSFW CONTENT MINORS DNI, friend’s with benefits typa relationship, degradation kink, spanking, pet names, unprotected sex (use birth control idiots), brat taming, oral (m reciving), fingering, slight dumbification, harsh sex to really fluffy sex

word count: 2.8k

author’s note: this is inspired by the song why don’t you by father

“Vinnieee” I slurred out, I was slightly tipsy from my friends being here earlier and us drinking and shit talking about boys and relationships. I was currently snuggled up in me bed in my bra and underwear re-watching ‘skins’ while smoking some weed to combat with my stupid fucking ex breaking up with me over me living with a guy- I hate that asshole so much.

“What the fuck do you want” He said groaning and walking into my room

“Vincent can you please can you go downstairs and get me some Aspirin and Tums” I say with a pout, I know my hangovers and if I don’t have medicine I’m gonna be a bitch.

He flops onto my bed and looks at me while I lay down next to him, “Was this guy really worth all this shit” He asks looking at me, “Why did he even break up with you, what did you do?”

I may or may have not told Vinnie yet that the fact I broke up with my boyfriend was because of him, “It wasn’t that big of a deal anyways, don’t worry” I fail to look reassuring,

“C’mon dude were close, I LIVE WITH YOU, I won’t judge you” He says with a pout and who am I to deny such an adorable sight

I sigh, “He was just generally overprotective and possessive or whatever but um the main reason he broke up with my was erm cause I lived with you” I close my eyes shut afraid of what Vinnies’s reaction might be but he sits up and just looks baffled

“Wait wait you’re telling me he broke up with you cause you lived with me?” He says it like it’s unbelievable

I just chuckled, “Yeah I guess he thought that we were a thing behind his back or something”

“Damn that sucks man I’m really sorry, why didn’t you just move out with him?” He asks with a lot more sincerity than I have right now- I’m just focused on how close vinnie’s lips are to mine,

“It’s fine I like living with you and some insecure guy isn’t gonna change that” I say staring at his lips

“Yeah, but I dunno it makes me feel bad that you feel like this because of me” he says brushing a few strands of my hair of my face and rubbing the tears of my face as I lean into the touch

“It’s fine Vincent I promise you, living with you is worth being single” I say trying to reassure him with my face still in his hands

All he does is chuckle and then our lips are connected.

That's how it started. Now everytime me or Vinnie are mad and we need to take out our anger, or we need a date for an event, or even if we want to get off we always have each other. That’s the rule- no matter what we have time for each other.

But it’s been a week and Vinnie has barely talked to me and I shouldn’t be mad cause this is a casual thing- no strings or whatever, but what pisses me off so much is that he’s talking to another girl- specifically my best friend Zoe, who assures me it’s platonic but god I’m so mad at both of them.

He’s to fucking busy to notice that it’s been around 3 months since we started this- whatever this is, woo it’s our ‘anniversary’ and he doesn’t fucking care does he?

I had just gotten out of the shower after a busy day at work and I just needed some sort of release so my only option was obviously my roommate. I quickly put on a matching set and some black sweat pants and a white lace tank top and walked out of my room to find Vinnie.

When I found him he was shirtless sitting in front of his gaming setup on his phone- oh fuck he looks so good.

He was clearly just finished working out- He was shirtless with just sweats on his hair fucked up and one hand scrolling on his phone with his other hand was resting behind his head while he was leaning on his gaming chair.

I went up to him and leaned on his desk waiting for him to acknowledge me to no avail

“Hey Vinnie are you busy right now” I ask with my tone bleeding with annoyance

“Oh uh I’m kinda messaging-” I cut him off “Zoe, right, whatever”

I walk back into my room seething I fucking hate him so much he’s a bitch fuck this.

I grab my phone and scroll down to find Theo’s contact, he was one of his irls that his fans didn’t know much about- Vinnie gave it to me a while ago when Theo came over to take pet-sit hera when both of us were out of the country but now it was the perfect revenge.

I flop onto my bed grabbing one of my pillows and I call the number a few times before he picks up

“Hey y/nnn” He calls out

“Hey Theo” I yawn, “How are you?” I ask with as much sincerity I can muster

“M’ good, I’m just playing valorant, what about you” He says

“I’m good Vinnies just being annoying right now so I wanna talk to you” I laugh

He laughs with me, “Yeah, that’s Vinnie for you, anyways wanna talk about it cause u called me like super late”

“Oh erm nah its fineee” I draw out, “Just wanted to talk to you y’know” I try to deflect

“At 12 am?” He says with a chuckle

“Uh yeah I guess sorry” I try to make it seem sincere

“Hmm yeah sure, is there anything else you want?” He asks, if I wanted to I could have sex with him but that just seems really fucking wrong

But I don’t need to fuck him to get Vinnie jealous, he’s the most fucking possesive person I’ve met me talking to Theo is gonna fucking rile him up to no end

“Um sorry this is a weird request but can I play valo with you, I need to get my mind off shit?” I say ask rubbing the back of my neck and cringing, that was a shit lie

“Oh…kay, sure why not anything for a pretty lady” He says with a certain confidence in his voice. “Hope on valo, let’s play a couple competitive matches”

I agree and end the call to hop onto my desktop and pick up the call on discord.

We start off as attackers and our team wins 7 out of the twelve rounds before we switch to defense, multiple close calls, including my team being wiped out with me being the only person left to defend for us, and when we win that round I scream so loud to ensure Vinnie hears me.

We end up winning the match and I jump off the chair and do a spin out of happiness, but out of the corner of my eye I see the familiar blond leaning on my door frame yet I don’t acknowledge him.

“Hey Theo” I ask breathlessly, “You're really good at valo thank-” But before I can finish thanking him that familiar scent of sandalwood mixed with lavender and smoke creeps up behind me caging me into my desk and ending my call with Theo.

A hand on my jaw pulls my gaze away from my screen into addictive brown eyes, neither of us make a sound, we just stare at each other too afraid to mess up the atmosphere.

I break the silence first, “What the fuck was that for asshole” I say only slightly louder than a whisper, still to afraid to ruin the moment.

“You know what that was for pretty, what are you doing calling some rando at fucking 12 at night bitch?” He asks but I don’t need to reply, we both know the answer to that.

He continues, “Dumb little girl is so needy she’ll whore herself out to anyone who’ll pick up the phone? You know I’m always there but you can’t handle not being the center attention for like 5 minutes”

And that’s what pisses me off, I stand up looking at him level in the eye, “You don’t get to fucking say that Vin! You haven’t talked to me in a week cause your to busy slutting yourself out to MY best friend and-”

He cuts me off, “Can I kiss you?”

“Oh my fucking god Vin your so annoying, you never listen to me it’s like talking to a wall!”

“That doesn’t answer my question, can I kiss you?”

I hate the things he does to me, I hate how he makes my entire body heat up when I’m mad at him, I hate how he tries to get me going at the worst time, I hate how he tries to fix our arguments and our mistakes by getting me horny, and I really fucking hate how it works.

I nod and he places his hand on my hips and guides me into a kiss whilst I wrap my arms around his neck and lean into the kiss, his hands roam around my body slipping under my shirt to pull it off. We let go of the kiss to take our shirts and pants off and we both ended up back on my bed with him against the headboard and me straddling him, grinding on his clothed cock.

“Shit, I fucking hate you so much,” I plead whilst my hands curl into his hair and his lips trail blazing kisses along my neck down to my tits whilst he unclasps my bra and keeps the kisses going.

“Yeah, yeah, say whatever you want baby, you know your mine” He says in between kisses

And the fucked up part is that he’s right.

I could flirt with as men as I want and he could talk to as many girls as he likes to try to forget me, but fuck we both end up in one of our bed’s at the end of the night, worshiping each others bodies or ruining each other till theres nothing left in either of us- I’m his, and he’s mine… even if were to pussy to say it.

But right now I’d rather die than admit to him that he’s right.

“Really” I question breathlessly, “I thought zoe was yours?”

“Oh fuck off, if you wanna be a brat, I’ll fucking treat you like a brat.” He says as he manhandles me so my face is pushed into my pillows and my ass up in the air and smack my right cheek

The burn makes me hiss into the pillow whilst his hands snake down my back to pull my hair which in turn pulls my hair up so he can see my face.

“Your mine” He instructs, “Say it, say your mine.”

He knows im his, we both know that I’m his but fuck the man and his stupid insecurity crisis, I’m not saying shit.

“Fuck fine, we’ll just do this the regular way” He says and accentuates with a slap on my left ass which makes me hiss and arch my back into him.

I don’t know how long the spanking goes on for but I know it burns but I feel so fucking good right now, I can see stars and Vinnie and that’s all I need right now.

He’s finally done and flips me over, “Cmon baby, just say it, I wanna fuck my girl and I know you wanna feel good pretty, it’s just 2 words.”

I know my face looks exhausted because Vinnie starts kissing every single soft spot on my neck, collarbones and jaw so I can relax and take a moment to relax. “Daddy-” I slur out, “Can I suck you off?” I say with such an innocent tone and doe eyes that I think it takes him a second to register.

He doesn’t say anything but helps me situate myself on my knees in front of his still clothed dick.

He moves the hair of my face and helps me take his boxers off, his cock looks angry and red with precum already leaking off of it. I start kitten licking the tip of his dick, swirling all the salty precum over his angry tip. I can tell he's starting to get frustrated by the way he’s fidgeting above me.

“Your such a fucking tease baby,” He says petting through my hair, “Such a dumb little brat”

And my stupid ass giggles instead of saying anything, but it gets him going enough for him to tangle his hands into my hair and start using my mouth to get him off, my moans and hisses just add to his pleasure.

I hollow my cheeks out and swirl my tongue around his dick to give him some form of stimulation, and use my hands to jerk off the rest of his cock that I can’t fit in my mouth.

It’s so fucking dirty, the sounds of me gagging on my roommates dick with spit rolling out of the corners of my mouth, and the whole scene is finished of with Vinnies moans echoing around our house.

He’s so fucking close to cumming and I can tell by the way his grip on my hair tightens and his moans turn whispier. But for some fucking reason he pulls me off and picks me up so I’m straddling is lap again and were making out again.

He flips both of us over so I’m laid out on my back and he’s hovering over me like I’m the finest piece of art he's ever seen, “Hey baby, you still with me?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I pant, trying to catch my breath.

He takes his fingers and finally take my panties off and dips them into my folds, his thumb reaches my clit and he makes figure 8’s on them, the sudden simulations causes me to gasp and arch my back which leads to Vinnie’s hands finding refugee on my hips and pushing me down into the comforter as he continues to stimulate me.

His hand drags in and out of me as our lips interlock, we move in a steady rhythm and everything feels so right, for a second I forget about everything that we were fighting about and melt into his touch, I may be a petty bitch but god has this man done something to me.

The knot in my stomach builds and I know Vinnie can tell by the way my legs shake and how my lips quiver around his whilst my hands drag my nails through his back, causing him to hiss in pain and pleasure.

“Vinnie” I moan out, “Please can I cum”

I’m begging at this point, I’m so close to release and I wanna cum so bad that all my self respect leaves my body.

“I don’t know baby, you’ve been so rude”

“Please, Vinnie please” I plead, “I need you so bad, please I’m yours”

I give him what he wants in hope he gives me what I want and it works like a charm

“Oh how am I gonna deny such a pretty girl?” He states but he removes his hands causing me to whine but instead takes his dick and lines up to my folds and slowly goes in, reveling in the way my eyes roll to the back of my head.

He’s excruciatingly slow and then painfully fast slamming into my hips with the sound of our skin slapping adding to the ambiance. Our moans bounce off the walls, my breathless wines along with his low grunts create a melody of intimacy, it’s so different to how we started.

We’re so fucking close to cumming that Vinnie tells me to, “cum with him”, and that’s exactly what we do. We both finally get our release after so long that we don’t even move for a second, my forehead and his touches for what seems like an eternity until he finally pulls out and places a kiss on my cheek and heads to get water and towel to wipe me off.

After he does that, I get up and pick up my panties and put them on and then put on Vinnies shirt whilst he puts on his sweat and we both use the bathroom.

As I get into bed with him after changing he cups my face and places a kiss on my lips, “Plus I’m sorry for everything, I’m such a dick sometimes”

It’s sweet, after all we're not even exclusive and he's this sweet, I kinda forget everything he’s done… until I don’t.

“It’s fine baby, you can make up with me in between my thighs”, I say the last part so quietly that he doesn’t register it for a second until he places one more kiss on my lips and slips under the covers.

#bella's full works #bella fawns over vhacker #vinnie hacker smut #vinnie hacker x reader #vinnie hacker x reader smut #vinnie hacker imagines #vhackerr #vincent hacker #vinnie hacker oneshot #vinnie hacker #vinnie x reader #vinnie imagines #vinnie hacker x you #vinnie

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fatesmono · 8 months

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valentines day with yoongi

✮⋆˙ warning : some language + i haven’t written in half a year so.

✮⋆˙ this is an “x reader” so yk insert gender <3

✮⋆˙a.n : so todays valentine’s day (its the 13th at 11:59 posting this, great job me :3). so happy valentines i guess. i’m spending it celebrating jaehyun's birthday and writing abt my husband who’s in the war. i haven’t written in like, six years (six months) so pls go easy on me

✮⋆˙enjoy loves <3333 happy valentines day !!

i never liked valentine’s day. it was always a stupid ass holiday if i do say so myself. am i saying that bc i never had a good valentine ? …maybe so, why are you so nosy ?? anyways, that was before i met him, min yoongi. i never met a man who says he hates a holiday so much but also goes all out for it. our first valentines last year i expected him to not really get me anything or like a bouquet of flowers since it wasn’t that much…i got a bouquet alright, like seven of them (he had said he didn’t know which one i would like so he just got me all of the ones he thought i would want), plus a shit ton of chocolate and just little things like one of his hoodies and this ring i had been eyeing for like months beforehand. so much for “valentines day isn’t really my thing” right ? all men do is lie, even min yoongi.

okay but anyways, here we are now, a year later. i wanna prove myself this year, i refuse to be out-valentines’d by him, no matter what that takes. now just one problem, he’s rich, i work at a coffee shop. shit, i know right ? but we will make it work i don’t care.

so have i had this planned out for the last two months like a gta heist ? yes. but i NEED this day to go perfect. did it ? NO. NO IT DIDNT. first the necklace i got him with his name won’t be ready until the 17th, and then the kiss hoodie i was working on for him GETS BLEACHED SPILLED ON HIM, curtesy of our cat, johnny, and then; if it wasn’t going awful anyway, the cupcakes i made for him burned. and i’m going to his studio as we speak…this is my thirteenth reason. so right now all we have is his favorite flowers, a bleached hoodie with my kisses and a book of poems i wrote for him, sigh. SIGH. and if it didn’t help, he already gave me half of my gift before he left and it’s ten times better. A ROSE GOLD NECKLACE, he got me a rose gold encrusted with the sun because “i’m the sun to his moon”, he makes me wanna bash my head sometimes from how sweet he is.

so getting to his studio, the definition of “shaking in my little boots”. i can hear him practicing his music from outside his studio, it’s like walking into beethoven working on smth if beethoven was your 30 year old idol boyfriend for a kpop group, if that makes sense, which is doesn’t so. anyways, i put in the code for his studio (it’s our anniversary, excuse me while i cry.) and quietly walk in to not disturb him, which isn’t that hard since he has tunnel vision as he invented it, and quietly tap his shoulder gently to get his attention. he turns around, taking off his headphones and noticing me with a small smile on his face, which might as well have been a kiss from him then and then.

“hey love, happy valentine’s day, what are you doing here ?”, god why does he have to have such a perfect voice; it’s like he doesn’t even have to try. i go on to give him to give him his gift and try to explain that i had much more to give him and i knew it wasn’t enough to give and- and he cuts me off. good job if i do say so myself because the yapping i do, i could win a medal.

“honey honey, this is perfect…you didn’t even have to get me anything, and you wrote me poems…that’s like writing me a song, this means the world to me. you remembered my favorite flowers, and this hoodie..i don’t think i’ve ever gotten a gift like this from anyone before, not even the guys. thank you so much…”, and my heart just turns into a puddle then and there. all my worries gone in a second, how does he do it ? he really should’ve become a therapist in another life, but i guess he does that with his music. but anyways, did i expect him to like the gift ? absolutely not. i did try to pay for dinner that night and he still didn’t let me do it, saying it was “an extra gift” as if i needed anymore gifts. remind me next to try and not outgift a rich idol who’s secret love language is definitely gift giving.

i’m still getting next years gifts ready anyways. i’m so winning next year, i don't care.

#yoongi #min yoongi #valentines day #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #fluff #bts #yoongi x reader

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yesimwriting · 2 years

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Final Girl (Part 6)

A/n your comments, reblogs, and likes have helped me through this rough patch immensely :)) not to be pushy but,, comments really make my day :)

Series Summary: Y/n can’t believe that she has to leave the only home she’s ever known just because her mom’s latest boyfriend has a house in some town in California. Just as she’s starting to think that Woodsboro might not be that bad, something life altering happens after she agrees to sleep over at Becker’s house. Now her name is practically synonymous with Ghostface’s.

Chapter Summary: The aftermath of Ghostface’s phone call leaves Y/n a little reliant on some good friends.

Final Girl Series Masterlist (updated parts 1 - 9 and extras)

----

Billy’s breathing doesn’t reveal enough about what he’s feeling, but considering how silent the two of us have been, I have absolutely nothing else to go off of.

I should leave him alone, I stomped on his foot, locked him outside while a murderer was watching us, threatened him with a knife, and accused him of being a murderer. It’s a miracle that he doesn’t hate me, I really shouldn’t push.

If it wasn’t for Billy, I don’t think I would have gotten through the aftermath of the phone call. He convinced me that the police wouldn’t care that I had been drinking and when I couldn’t form the words, he gave them the information over the phone. He also helped me call my mom.

When Dewey finally got to the house, he seemed a little more like an older brother asking me what happened with genuine care and compassion instead of some kind of officer desperate for answers. It was nice, the kind of energy and patience I needed. He even offered to take me to his house so I could sleep over with Tatum, but remembering how drunk she was at the party, I had a feeling she might not be coming home. I don’t know what she told her parents and I really don’t want to get her in trouble or interrupt her time with Stu (since he threw such a hissy fit this morning), so I insisted I could tough it out. Dewey didn’t seem convinced until Billy offered to stay the night, just so I wouldn’t be alone.

The offer comforted me as much as it annoyed me. All I wanted was to prove that I didn’t need anyone, and now Billy’s weird group date night party thing has been cut short because of me. Technically, it’s not my fault. It’s not like I asked some murderer to call me, and he’s trying to be nice. Or at least, I think he is. And it’s not like he was the one complaining about me today, he even tried making me feel better by saying he’d take me to the bookstore tomorrow.

Despite knowing all of this, my awkward and uncomfortable emotions that have been amplified by both panic and alcohol would have had me sending Billy home if I had the chance. But Billy’s offer was the only thing that seemed to get Dewey to relax and before he left he made both of us promise that we’d stay put and keep a phone on us in case of emergency. I couldn’t kick Billy out after that, not with the way Dewey physically eased.

I guess it’s fair. Two is always better than one in these kinds of things, that’s why splitting up in a scary movie is always a bad idea. And if I had to make a cursory assumption about Billy’s physical appearance, he seems kind of strong, I guess. Not that I’ve ever paid attention to his physique or anything. And it’s not like he’s going fight off a killer, or whatever. But Dewey seemed to be comforted by the idea, and after tonight, if I have to choose between potentially bothering Billy and potentially bothering Stu by stealing Tate from him...

And, if I’m being completely honest, the thought of being alone is absolutely nauseating. Before leaving, my mom always drills me on self defense. The whole ‘gun’s in the safe’ talk. Honestly, I’m pretty sure the fact that my mom’s been taking me to the shooting range since I was legally old enough to in Texas is the only reason she felt comfortable leaving me alone. But I’ve been drinking, and shooting at a target is nothing compared to shooting at a person.

Also, unfortunately, I’ve come to realization that Billy’s presence is comforting. He lingers, sometimes at a distance, sometimes close. Like a cat.

“What are you thinking about?” It’s a fair question, I guess. We’ve both been through some stuff tonight, and we’re both tense, but it’s not like we can both sit at an awkward distance from each other and stare off into space until morning.

Not trusting myself to not stare at him, I drop my gaze from the wall and onto my lap. My mind is racing a mile a minute, and a weird combination of dread, panic, and guilt have been drowning out all rational thoughts since Dewey left, but none of that feels like the right thing to say, so I go with the literal answer. “Nothing much, just that you’re kind of like the cat my mom never let me get.”

He lets out a breath that could be annoyed or amused. I’m too much of a coward to look up at him and check. “You’re not that predictable.”

His tone is so specific it takes a second to sink in. The words came out low and cautious, like he was admitting some kind of weakness he didn’t expect himself to express. But they also felt a little like shy praise.

“Thanks, I guess, weirdo.” Finally looking up at him, I realize that he’s already looking at me. “Thought I was easy to read.”

Billy tilts his head downwards, a strand of hair falling across his face. “You can’t hide what you’re feeling, but that doesn’t make me a mind reader.”

Did Billy move closer to me at some point and I just didn’t notice? Or did...I somehow move? “That was a very polite way of telling me that I say weird things.”

“No,” if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was smiling, “I meant it in a good way. It’s...refreshing.” Billy pauses, eyebrows just barely drawing together like he’s debating something, “You’re refreshing.”

The admission comes out almost soft. I grin at his awkward wording. “Keeping you on your toes, just how I like it.”

My bad joke lands even though Billy tries to hide his slight smile behind a controlled smirk. “One minute you’re accusing me of murder and the next you’re making jokes. I’m definitely on my toes.”

I can’t tell if the switch is meant to be lighthearted, but I react regardless. Turning my head away, I clasp a hand over my mouth a little too dramatically. “I am so so sorry about that. Did I apologize for--”

“Yes,” he cuts me off easily, “Relax, I was joking, and I get that you were scared and Stu told me that Noel said Casey’s name in front of you.” Billy hesitates, voice dropping slightly, “And I know that I said the wrong thing, but it was a lot to know that you thought I could do something like that to you.”

Guilt feels like a spear cutting through me. All of my other feelings are small in comparison. One conversation with someone that only knows surface level Billy and that’s all it took for me to get that freaked out? And right after I started wondering if Stu could have done it just because he happened to date Casey at one point?

Maybe it was the alcohol or the desperation to have some sense of closure. There’s a chance that I was just mad at them and my subconscious ran with that.

I let myself watch Billy openly. There’s a strange flicker of vulnerability adding a quality to his features that makes him feel less sharp. If I squint, it’s similar to the way he looked when he mentioned his mom earlier.

That strand of hair is still out of place, just barely brushing against the tip of his nose. I don’t know what gets my hand to move, but while I’m imagining how satisfying it’d be to have that strand pushed back into place, my arm extends. My movements are slow as I tuck his hair behind his ear.

Billy lets me, only reacting to wrap long fingers around my wrist once I’ve accomplished my goal. There’s a lot I could say about my down spiral. I could tell him that he was my second suspect during a 10 minute trail down a dark rabbit hole. I could tell him that I was so out of it that I wanted to go to Casey’s house alone at night while drunk.

Instead I say, “I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” It’s the truth, and somehow it feels like the only thing worth saying.

He holds my gaze for a little too long. With no warning, Billy moves my arm, pressing a quick kiss to the inside of my wrist.

Ignoring the strange warmth that follows the gesture, I turn my head. “I was so out of it and desperate for answers I wanted to go to Casey’s house. You were right to make me go home.” With a self deprecating laugh, I pull my hand back. “I just wish I could’ve proven that I could go one night without having some sort of crisis.”

“I like your crises,” Billy says after a beat, “They end up making me look like a good guy and it’s nice to be needed every once in awhile.”

I look over at him, glaring as he grins. His sudden lightheartedness is shocking, and a tiny bit infuriating, but not unwelcome. I like the way he gets when it’s just us or us and Stu.

The thought of Stu hits me a little too hard. It’d be nice to know that things with Stu are okay. Plus I...begrudgingly kind of, maybe miss him a tiny bit.

Billy being around is great, but after tonight, it’d feel settling to have our trio all together and safe.

Rolling my eyes, I adjust my position on the couch. “One, I don’t think you need me to make you look like a good guy, and two, I’d keep you around even if I was completely stable.”

“Really?” There’s a bit of smugness behind the humor in his voice. “Keep me around?”

I halfheartedly glare at him, shoving his arm. “Maybe I like you.”

“Maybe?”

“Don’t make it weird.”

He grabs my hand, squeezing it slightly. “You okay?”

Ugh. Of course he’d notice that tiny shift. Billy’s so perceptive it’d unnerve me if he was anyone else. “If I admit something you have to promise me that you won’t tell anyone.”

“I can keep a secret.”

It’s not exactly the assurance I wanted, because him being able to and willing to keep a secret are separate things. Something tells me not much goes unshared between him and Stu. “Is it weird I kinda miss Stu?” The admission is embarrassing, but it’s probably the least awkward thing I’ve said all night. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m still mad at him and he was a total asshole, but he’s like my asshole, y’know?”

The corner of Billy’s mouth turns upwards. There’s something about his expression that I don’t understand, but it’s not a bad thing. “I get it.” He shifts slightly without letting go of my hand. “You should call him tomorrow, he’d like it more than he’d admit. Not a lot of people go out of their way to reach out to him first.”

I’m not wasted or naive enough to not notice how intentional Billy’s final comment feels. I can see why he’d want Stu and I to make up sooner rather than later. No one likes it when their friends are fighting. I have half a mind to call him out on it, but decide against it. Sure, it might have been a point he kept to himself under different circumstances, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true.

It’s hard to picture Stu, who’s always so outgoing and himself as lonely or unwanted. He’s always throwing parties and included in things. But parties don’t necessarily mean a lot of friends. Anyone would be willing to spend a Saturday night drinking free alcohol in a parentless house. And it’s possible to feel like you’re not important while surrounded by a large friend group. Plus his parents are always gone. Two nights without my mom and I’m losing it, I can’t imagine what coming home to an empty house every day must feel like.

But it’s no excuse. It’s not like I’ll be mad at him forever, but it’s deserved for now. “I will when I feel a little better.”

Billy pauses, thinking through what I just said. “He’ll cool off. It’s more about this week than you.” Right. His sister, his parents.

I must be more tipsy than I realized because I blurt out a question that I’ve managed to keep to myself for awhile, “What is the whole thing with his sister?”

A switch immediately flips. He doesn’t really move or do anything, but there’s a shift behind his eyes. A change so slight and certain I wouldn’t have noticed if it had felt any less harsh. I don’t know why, but I know that that was the wrong thing to say. I’m pushing us towards what’s considered unsteady territory.

“I-I just mean that I know they don’t get along because of that time at his house with the picture, remember? I’m not saying it’s anything, just that I--I don’t have any siblings, so for all I know all siblings are like that.” I scratch the back of my wrist, vaguely reflecting on that cliche expression about cats. “I-I have a step-sister, technically, and I can barely stand her and I only see her on holidays, so actual siblings must be...”

He turns his head enough to watch my expression. There’s something about the draw of Billy’s eyebrows that eases me. Something in my jumble of words has intrigued him. “You have a step-sister?”

Ugh. I think I’d rather him be mad at me. Shrugging, I answer honestly, “My dad got married when I was nine. His wife had a daughter that was ten.”

“You don’t like them.”

It’s not a question, but I can feel that he’s expecting some kind of elaboration from me. “Not particularly.” It’s not what he wants, but I’m not exactly chatty when it comes to my step family. Maybe that’s how Stu and Billy feel about the parents they live with. The thought leaves me more sympathetic than before. “It killed my mom.”

“I didn’t ask about your mom, I asked about you.”

Wiping my palms on the couch, I stare off at nothing in particular. There’s no nice way to summarize the whole step family thing. The competition, the terrorizing while adults weren’t looking, the feeling of being replaced. The feeling of knowing the kind of dad my dad would have been to me if he had just had me a little later. There’s an anger there that’s hard for me to acknowledge.

“The whole thing with my dad’s fucked up, and I can’t talk about it without sounding fucked up, too.” My voice is both too harsh and too honest and I regret it instantly. “Sorry, that was a lot.”

Billy’s quiet for a long moment, expression unreadable. “Fucked up doesn’t bother me.”

He sounds so genuine and patient that I believe him wholeheartedly. I don’t think that’s a good thing, but I tell him everything regardless. My dad, the on and off addiction, locking myself in the bathroom while he dealt with withdrawals, the way he completely changed for Charlotte and her mother, and watching my mom fall apart for someone that never loved her as much as she loved him. And, for the first time ever, I don’t keep it just factual. I tell him how it all made me feel, even though it’s not pretty.

Drinking and emotional conversations never go well together. By the time I’m done with the story, my eyes are watery. Maybe I could have blinked the tears away and played them off in front of someone else, but Billy notices everything. I take a settling breath before gently wiping my thumb across the corner of my eyes.

“...Sorry, this is stupid. I’m too old to get this upset over my dad and his family.” I’m too self conscious to look at him, so I stare at my lap instead. “It’s extra stupid, because my mom’s so great, she’s more than enough, but it’s always been just us, and sometimes that gets lonely. Especially now that she has someone else and I--”

It’s ridiculous. I’m not jealous of my mom having a boyfriend, but I do miss the way things were before Wells. She’s never had a super serious boyfriend before, and it’s starting to feel like she’s getting more family and I’m not.

Billy’s arm moves around my shoulder. I don’t think twice about the gesture until he pulls me into his side. His strength is surprising, but his touch isn’t harsh or overwhelming. It’s actually kind of nice. After a second, I relax into the contact.

“You don’t need him.” His body is as rigid and tense as his voice. The change in mood is fleeting. Billy recovers so quickly I nearly get whiplash as he teasingly taps his knee against mine, “You do have someone else.”

He watches me for a long second, dark eyes taking in every detail of my expression. Up close like this, there’s something nearly soft about his features. I can make out the individual hairs of his lashes and a faint touch of barely-there freckles beneath his left eye. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed the slope of his lips before.

I don’t know if he finds what he’s looking for in my expression because all at once, his intensity retreats with the drop of his head. “Two someones,” it’s practically shy, “Stu might be an asshole that doesn’t think before speaking, but the good thing about him is that he’s always there.”

The sincerity and obvious fondness that’s just so thinly veiled I know better than to call him out on it leaves me warm in a different way. It clutches at my chest.

“Maybe for you,” I hum, hoping that my tone lightens the mood, “But I don’t think Stu’s in the mood to be there for me.”

Letting out a slight sigh that I can’t interpret, Billy rests his head against the back of the couch. He keeps his head turned in my direction. We’re close enough that this new angle doesn’t create any distance, it just changes things a little. His breaths just barely reach my lower cheek.

“He’s just moody because of his parents and sister. They’re both in town at the same time maybe twice a year.” Sympathy’s fangs graze against me, ready to sink in. “He cares about you, you know that.” When I don’t react immediately, Billy continues, “You’d have to considering the way he babies you.”

Did he just? Shock and embarrassment twist oddly in my chest, making it impossible to take a full breath. My scoff comes out too small as a result. “He. Does. Not.”

The corner of Billy’s mouth turns upwards. Great. I’ve given away that he’s struck a nerve. “You let him.”

It’s a second bullet wound. “What? I--he doesn’t try--I wouldn’t if--you’re just making stuff up.”

Billy takes my stuttering and inability to decide where to look like he has all the time in the world. “He peels your oranges, angel.”

“I don’t ask him to.” My answer escapes me too quickly, too defensively. Stu does peel my oranges, but he only dos that so he can make a joke about not minding getting his hands dirty. He also does it so he can steal as many orange slices as he wants. “I--I don’t, he does it because he has a whole bit about getting his hands dirty. That’s it.”

“He waits with you by your locker at the end of the day.”

That is not the big deal Billy is making it out to me. Stu stands next to me while I sort through my books before going home and sometimes he’ll hold things for me for a second to make things easier...but that’s not babying me.

I open my mouth to tell Billy all of that. Before I can get the words out, a realization that I could have gone my entire life without strikes me in the chest. Hard and fast enough to nearly knock the breath out of my chest.

Because, yes, Stu peeling oranges for me and hanging out by my locker while I go through my backpack doesn’t add up to him babying me. But that paired with Stu walking me to our shared first period after homeroom because one time a super rude football player ran into me; Stu always offering to wait up with me on the phone after a bad dream; Stu caring about my class schedule more than he cares about his.

“That’s just being a friend.” Maybe that defense could have worked if I had managed to say it normally, but I can feel my own awkwardness. There’s no way that Billy didn’t pick up on it.

He’s enjoying this too much. “I’ve been friends with him for years and he’s never peeled an orange for me. Maybe it’s because I’m not as pretty as you.”

Stu’s reputation for flirting often outshines Billy’s. I think that’s something Billy relies on, it lets him get away with a little more. Rolling my eyes instinctually, I move to shove Billy’s shoulder.

My fingers have just barely grazed against the fabric of his shirt before Billy’s hand wraps around my wrist. He holds me there for a second, staring at where our skin meets. In a move so quick I barely notice it, Billy pulls me closer by my arm.

His grip tightens in a way that feels instinctual. It doesn’t hurt, but there’s something almost panicked about it. Billy’s jaw seems to lock but I can’t convince myself that it’s not just the lighting. “You should go to bed.”

The words feel strained by something I don’t get. I’m too lost to his proximity to care. He’s so warm and there’s a sense of safety radiating off of him that I can’t think to question his intensity. It’s too relieving, too comforting. I want closer.

That realization is worse than what we were joking about earlier. That thought scares the shit out of me. It’s a sign that I should jump back. Get away. But I--

“Don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.”

He blinks. My reaction seems to ease him enough to let his hand relax. His fingers ghost down my forearm. “Should still go to bed. You need rest.”

I nod, thinking that that’s my cue to scoot back, but Billy’s still holding onto my arm. This close, the bags under his eyes seem so much more prominent. A tiny pinch of guilt flares through me. He’s the one that could have been murdered because I’m slowly going insane. “So do you.”

“Then go to bed so I can.” The correlation only somewhat makes sense.

Right. He’s staying over. “You can stay in my room and I’ll sleep in my mom and Wells’s.”

It feels awkward, but there’s not much else I can do. Despite the decent size of the house, the only guest room on the property was turned into my room. The other rooms are mainly storage that Wells hasn’t gotten around to cleaning out. I guess his grandparents and great grandparents were hoarders. Maybe that’s just what happens in family homes, the stuff that’s saved to be passed down just gets shoved into back closets and unused rooms.

“You don’t want to have another sleepover?” His slight smile reveals that he does want to fluster me. That should make it less effective, but I still struggle to hold his gaze.

I try to glare, but I really doubt it comes off right. “Not sure us falling asleep in the same bed because we were too drunk to think ahead counts.”

Billy gilts his head forward. The shift is small but still oddly noticeable. I guess that’s how it is when you’re this close. Any movement closer or farther is noticeable because it feels more significant. “You’re saying you need to be drunk to get into bed with me?”

It’s just cheesy enough to get me to laugh. “You know what I mean.”

At the somewhat serious answer, Billy straightens slightly. “I want to know that you’re there.” His words are so hushed, so unlike him in their closeness to nervousness that my heart stills. “That you’re okay.”

He’s regarding me with a sharpness that doesn’t fit the low way he’s speaking. I’m struck with the feeling that there’s another layer to what he’s asking me. I almost feel like I’m being tested. If he seemed any less vulnerable I’d question it.

“You don’t think Sid would...” I don’t even know what I’m asking. Am I asking if she’d mind? If she’d think that there was something weird about it?

“No.” Billy’s answer is quick and hard, leaving no room for argument. His fingers tighten around my forearm. The change is so quick it almost feels needy. It’s different than when Stu holds on a little too authoritatively. It’s more desperate and that makes it feel more volatile.

All at once, he softens again. His hold returns to bearable. Not quite as casual as before but no longer unsettling. “She wouldn’t. She’d understand.” He says it so simply, like he has absolutely no doubts.

He’d know better than me, I guess. They’re the ones dating, which means Billy knows Sid’s boundaries about this stuff better than I do. Which means it is really up to me.

I don’t know what I want, but I know what I don’t. I can’t take anymore grief tonight, anymore worries or arguments. I also know that I don’t want to be alone and that latching onto Billy like this is the most peace I’ve felt all night. “O-okay.”

He exhales, something in him relaxing at my answer. “Okay.” Billy’s voice is more sure than mine. It’s comforting enough to cut through my uncertainty. “Let’s go to bed.”

----

Rationally, I know that technically this is my second time having Billy stay in my room, but it feels a lot different without excessive alcohol. I’m not completely sober yet, I don’t think it’s physically possible to sober up that fast.

The call and panic definitely cut through my buzz, leaving me only with sluggishness that follows drinking. A tired that I can’t give into because of anxiety.

Billy’s laying next to me, and from what I can tell, he’s breathing easily but I’m not convinced he’s asleep. Despite that, I can’t bring myself to even glance at him from the corner of my eyes. Billy has a way of noticing things like that no matter how subtle I try to be.

He moves, the hand that’s closest to mine brushes against the back of my palm. It’s likely an accident but the small rush of warmth that runs up my fingertips until it reaches my chest is so soothing it nearly gets me to ease. Or jump. Those two feelings are often hard to tell apart around him.

“Can’t sleep?”

He hasn’t moved any more so I remain just as still, eyes trained on the ceiling. “I’ll pass out eventually.”

“Might help if you close your eyes.”

The way Billy just knows things would be scary if it wasn’t so annoying. “Wow, a crystal ball and a deck of cards and you could have your own booth at the fair.”

Billy lets out a quiet laugh that’s meant to be a scoff. “The fair?”

I roll my eyes before dutifully returning my gaze to the ceiling. “Come on, don’t tell me that there’s no fair here. It’s not like Woodsboro is some metropolitan, crowded--”

“Sometimes I forget you’re from Texas and then you start talking about--”

“Shut up.”

He sighs in good humor again, his fingers stretching and brushing against my knuckles. “Then go to sleep.”

If only it was that easy. Ever since what happened at Casey’s, sleep is more of enemy than an escape. When I don’t have dreams that make my stomach turn with guilt, my mind goes over everything that I did wrong. And when I’m spared from that, my thoughts panic over what I’m not sure I remember.

Sometimes I think that doubting my mind is the worst of it and then the guilt doubles. At least I’m alive. I bet Casey would give anything to feel like she’s going crazy if it meant she could be alive.

With no warning, Billy turns his hand, pressing fingers in between mine so naturally that I instinctually adjust so that we’re loosely holding hands. “Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

Promises like that, promises that no one can guarantee, are the most gentle. They come from such good intentions. “Can I ask you something?” Before I can back out, I blurt out the important part, “And you’ll be honest? Promise you’ll be honest?”

A small moment of silence followed by the squeezing of my palm. “I promise.”

Slowly, I turn, pulling my hand away. Billy’s hold briefly tightens, but when I persist he lets go. He moves to face me after a second and when he sees that I’m now holding out my pinky, something about his expression softens. He covers his reaction with a pointed look meant to make fun of what I’m asking.

He links his pinky to mine. “You think this actually makes people not lie?”

It’s a light comment, probably meant to help me shake my mood, so I ignore it. “Do you think I’m crazy?” He’s watching me in a way I can’t interpret. “Or going it?”

“You’re hurting and you need time.” Billy’s answer isn’t careful or fragile or overly sweet like the sympathetic answers I’m used to. It’s straight forward and blunt enough to pass as honest. “You’re not crazy. You’re smart and that’s the problem.” I draw my eyebrows together. “Smart people always want answers but this isn’t about that. Answers won’t fix anything or bring anyone back.”

I nod somberly, surprisingly relieved. When my mood doesn’t get better, Billy pulls my hand towards him by my pinky. He presses his lips to my knuckle quickly. It’s enough to make me crack a tired smile, which I guess was his goal. “Thank you.”

“For telling you you’re not crazy after you accused me of murder?”

Partially glaring at him, I answer, “Just thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he mumbles, “Now go to sleep.”

“You sound like a mother.”

His lips press together briefly. “Like your mom has ever had to ask you to do anything twice.”

That joke’s getting old. “I’m tired of the jokes. So I listen to my mom, she deserves the lack of stress.”

Billy hesitates, “She’s a good mom.”

“It’s weird without her around.” My mom is the life of the house. She’s always on the phone with friends or playing music or yelling at the TV when characters on a TV show she likes do stupid things. “Quiet.”

He drops his gaze towards our hands. Our pinkies are still together. “There are worse things than quiet.” His tone reminds me of the way he was when he mentioned his mom. It’s a flash of something wounded. “Quiet’s easier.”

Another tally in a column about his home life. “What are you thinking about?” The question is a surprise for us both.

“My mom knew how to keep things quiet.”

I must be in total shock because after a second I ask, “What happened?” His eyes snap up and I regret not swallowing my words. “Not that--I just--I know it’s just your dad and it wasn’t always just your dad.” It’s my turn to stare at our hands. “You don’t need to tell me. Honestly, I--I didn’t mean to ask.”

He turns over my hand, something about the motion feels strained. Billy’s pointer finger traces patterns against my palm. “It’s fucked up.”

“Fucked up doesn’t bother me.” My repetition of his earlier words is awkward and much less sure than the original.

Billy’s quiet for a second, an odd tension floating through the room. “Not much to tell. Some whore fucked my dad and my mom did what she had to. My dad didn’t take it too well.”

Oh. His words hit me a little too hard. I don’t know if the story or the unexpected harshness is what gets to me. Before I can react, Billy places a hand on my shoulder. With no warning, he pushes me so that I’m laying flat against my bed. A tiny yelp escapes me, but Billy doesn’t move. “Now that we’ve done the whole deep dark secrets thing, go to sleep.”

His voice leaves no room for argument but his touch is harder to ignore. “You know the deep dark secrets thing is a major part of girl’s sleepovers. One minute everyone’s painting their nails and the next we’re all crying over our dads or moms or the messed up things we did in middle school.”

“Go to sleep,” he sighs, hand that’s not pinning me down sliding downwards, just barely touching my hip.

I nod slowly, not trusting myself to speak again. Satisfied, Billy takes his time moving back to the position he was in. This time, he stays closer than he was before.

Hating myself for it a little, I break the comfortable silence, “Billy?” He huffs slightly, like I’ve woken him up after a deep sleep that only took him minutes to find. “If you ever want quiet and can’t get it anywhere you can come over.” I already regret this. “Not--not in a pity way, just a--just so you know, I guess.”

He shifts closer, pulling my arm towards him. “Might end up moving in then.”

His muffled words make me let out a partial laugh. “Should let you know it’s like a metaphorical quiet because half the time you can hear my mom talking on the phone to her friends or talking to the TV.”

“Might have to rethink it then.” The edge in his voice is ruined by the slight smile that I can feel through his tone.

Billy’s hold on my arm is an anchor I’ve gone too long without. Thoughtlessly, I move my free hand towards his back. My fingers brush against his skin gently. “Did you offer the same thing to your boyfriend?”

It takes me longer than it should for me to realize what he’s talking about. “Noel?” His silence is enough of an answer. “No, I guess that means I like you more.” He stays quiet. “And he’s not my boyfriend. I just--”

“Weren’t getting enough attention?”

With a sigh, I let my hand rest on his back. “I can still kick you out.” He doesn’t move. “And for the record, I just...I thought it’d make me feel normal.”

“Did he?”

The question sits with me for longer than it should because I know the answer immediately. It sinks into my chest like a weight threatening to suffocate my lungs. “Not as much as you.” I shut my eyes as if that will save me from his reaction. “I’m going to sleep.”

---- a few days later ----

“You fucking love it.” Stu makes no attempts to hide petty bitterness as he pulls a joint back to his lips. The whole point of smoking was to stop thinking about you, but weed doesn’t always work the way you want it. “At least admit it.”

Billy lifts his head enough to reach over for the joint, taking it from Stu. “What’s there to love?”

Stu sighs. “Fuck off.” Billy breathes in slowly, letting smoke fill his lungs. “You love that Y/n can’t do anything without you. That she lets you sleep in her room more than you sleep in yours.”

“Just say you’re sorry, give her one of your looks, and say something about your parents.”

Dropping his head back, Stu frowns. “You remember how quick she was to go after some other guy. Like she didn’t give a shit.” Billy patiently watches Stu, noting the way tension continues to expand across Stu’s demeanor. “Even Casey used to--”

“She gives a shit.” When Stu scoffs, Billy sits up a little more. “She does. Asks about you all the time and then makes me promise to not tell you.”

There’s only the tiniest shift in Stu’s demeanor, but it’s a start. Your little spat has lasted longer than Stu thought it would, and with each day that you go without initiating conversation, the more the sting of silent rejection bubbles. Billy’s had to keep up with his moods, making sure that Stu’s feelings remain contained.

“It’s cute,” Billy continues, “Like she has a crush she doesn’t know what to do with.” When Stu stays silent, Billy decides to keep going, “She likes you and she misses you. Use that.”

“With the way Tatum’s always breathing down my neck now?”

Maybe if Stu was in a better mood he’d make a joke about how even he can’t really blame Tatum. Stu’s been in a shitty mood for almost two weeks now, which means he hasn’t exactly been devoted. “I’ve got an idea that’ll get you alone with Y/n. No friends, no class, just you and her somewhere she can’t avoid you.”

At that, Stu manages to crack a grin. “Sounds like my type of situation.”

----

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lover-of-mine · 6 months

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Okay, so, I don't know if I'm typing this out to make myself feel better because I can't believe THIS is the thing I'm gonna be right about in this fucking show BUT back in May last year, I added some tags on a post about how Buck is in Eddie's season 5 arc, so he would break up with Natalia pretty early on and Eddie and Marisol would go off to build stuff together (It's the only post I can find that proves I had the thought before all this because I don't know if I put that in a meta or not, I think I did on a post talking about how Buck and Eddie mirror each other narratively, but I cannot find it) but the thing is, season 6 for Buck mirrors season 4 for Eddie, which would put them in season 5 but from Buck's side. It was the main reason I kept saying I believed Natalia would have the same treatment as Ana, and go away early on in the season to open space for Eddie's journey of self-discovery, which is what happened, Natalia went away to open space for Buck's self-discovery journey. I was betting on a Buck breakdown, but bi Buck works. Why did I had that thought the second Eddie called Marisol in the s6 finale? Well, Buck and Eddie are literally running parallel to each other but slightly misaligned. You have tiny things like the way the first loss on the job for both of them is someone falling to their death, but Devon didn't want to live and the gross dude did. Or the shaky relationship with their parents that runs opposite because Eddie had too much responsibility placed on him while Buck was literally treated like he was invisible. Or more aggressive things like the way the well mirrors the lightning (set on that if you need help visualizing), with the way both of them volunteer into the rescue, the well is in the middle of nowhere, Buck gets struck in the middle of the street, Buck is in the sky, Eddie is underground, the rain aspect, the 118 as audience, they are even on mirrored sides of the frame, and I think even the way Buck needs to choose to get out of the coma mirrors the way Eddie saves himself. There's also the breathing things since Eddie almost drowns and Buck's lungs stop working. The well mirroring the lighting put Buck in season 4 for 6b, the "'I'm fine' *narrator voice* he wasn't fine" era, which would put Buck in season 5 now, the "I'm dealing with what makes me who I am" era, which he is, go Buck.

Well, this works with love interests on a ridiculous level. We have the ABSOLUTE MADNESS of the way Shannon comes back, next episode Ali shows up, Shannon dies, next episode Ali is gone, Eddie meets Ana, Buck keeps complaining about the struggles of being single (while Maddie totally sets him up with Josh, because now that Buck is canonically bi, the fact that they are in blue and green is too on the nose for me to ignore), nothing comes of Eddie and Ana, they both stay single, Eddie asks Ana out, next episode Buck is dating and Taylor comes Back, Buck starts dating Natalia, Eddie starts dating Marisol. The only ones who are not aligned are the breakups with Ana and Taylor, because Buck chooses to hang on for too long. We also the way they have the first love who left them and never really gave them the closure they needed, we have the inconsequential girlfriend they only got because people kept telling them they had to move on. Shannon works for Eddie the same way Abby works for Buck. Ana works for Eddie the same way Ali and I guess Natalia do for Buck. That means Eddie needs a Taylor. Someone he meets on a call who comes back later on. Check. Someone he's supposed to work with in theory but never had a real fighting chance. (I say that because if Taylor were as intense about Buck as she is about the job, they could've been a very interesting installment of golden retriever boyfriend/black cat girlfriend, but they never try). Something about their personal journeys is that Buck tends to take longer to learn, while Eddie tends to need a stronger hit. Buck's takes more time and Eddie's tends to be more intense in a sense. Like the way Shannon dies and Abby just leaves, but they actually kinda paint Buck as hung up on Abby all through seasons 2 and 3. Or the way Taylor goes away for a whole season, just to come back and stay for 3 half seasons. So the Marisol of it all. Taylor had more dept in the helicopter than Marisol has right now, but sure, let's say the point here is to make Eddie do something stupid in the name of not being alone. Because that's what Taylor is. The whole time, Taylor is about Buck being scared of being alone, even hooking up with her the first time is about how he didn't have Abby to hang on to anymore. Taylor and Buck are also fundamentally incompatible.

Again, I know nothing about Marisol. They gave her no dept beyond being a glorified babysitter. Nothing in her relationship with Eddie so far has been about Eddie and her. Even their dates seem to be something that will be about watching other people. I don't wanna say buddie canon, because Lucy is her own category (I miss her) but, Eddie looking at Buck and Tommy and making the very harsh decision of asking her to move in "I'm gonna die alone" moment, I don't wanna say makes sense, but could work, even more considering that the Buck/Tommy/Eddie/Marisol date seems to be mirroring the colors of the Buckley-Diaz family + Taylor dinner in outside looking in, and the next episode is a madney episode. It's the same progression of events. I doubt Eddie is gonna cheat and panic ask Marisol to move in, but they are not so on the nose with the actual storyline parallels. I don't have the brainpower to come up with any theories about what he might do, but considering how rocky his relationship with Buck could be, considering the last episode, I can absolutely see Buck triggering that (that would make me accept I am right and Eddie is aware of his feelings and I won't give that up even if the show explicitly says he wasn't) because Eddie's abandonment issues make him overcorrect. And that's never a good thing. Do I think Marisol is going past the season finale? No. Eddie's understanding arcs are usually shorter than Buck's. How would she leave? No clue. The fact that Taylor hurt Buck's family, in a literal sense with Chim, and the focus on her relationship with Chris as someone taking care of him, also the ominous shots of Chris and the whole theory that Chris would get hurt last season makes me scared tho. It could be something that's not her fault that she doesn't reach Eddie instantly, like, Chris cuts himself or something and she doesn't call, that can even work to push Buck and Eddie closer, and put buddie explicitly in a parental role together. My brain keeps saying appendicitis for some reason, but no idea why, maybe I just don't want to believe the show would make someone purposefully endanger Chris. Eddie kind of snapping in a hospital makes sense? Let's say Chris gets sick while at school and someone calls the house trying to reach Eddie because he's not answering and he chews her off. But that's just like, the only thing I can come up with with the correct energy.

So, yeah, Marisol is Taylor. I'm too tired to keep typing, but I can't believe the one theory I don't fully type out is the one the universe is gonna give me oaksoaksoaksoaksokasa

If you read this I love you. I don't know how this made you feel, but I hope it makes sense.

#im going to bed now #bye #911 #911 speculation #911 spoilers #911 meta #???#i dont know #i know nothing

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