#also thank you for your interest in this!!!

[thesewordsareallihavetogive]

Feeding the Pitt Crew - Dr. Jack Abbot x chef!reader

Summary: 3.2k words. Based on this request: i love love love chef!reader !! could u maybe do a short compilation of all the times she has given food to the pitt crew ? :)  Scenes are not in chronological order. This is a companion piece to Flesh Wound.

Warnings: innuendos. Mentions of PTSD, suicide, military-related accidents, and death. Family fluff, more innuendos, the chef is a damn catch and Abbot thanks his lucky stars he has her.

a/n: I got very hungry while writing this. also stay tuned to the end for some deleted dialogue that was too funny not to share. Divider credit!

1. Jack’s Birthday

Jack was working on his birthday. Well, it technically wasn’t his birthday yet, but when the clock struck midnight, he’d be a year older. He stopped counting the years after he turned 34.

Jack’s birthday might not be that important to him, but it was definitely important to you.

You got out of the restaurant a bit later than you normally would after going through all the closing tasks with your staff, but you’d still make it to the Pitt by midnight if you walked briskly.

There was a lull at the Pitt—the kind that made staff afraid of getting comfortable. No one dared to say the Q or S word. It seemed too right. Doctor Abbot sat at one of the dictation desks, squinting at some new test results. He was still in denial about needing reading glasses.

The high counter partially construed Jack’s view of you as you walked up to him. He was so focused on his charting that he didn’t spare you a glance.

“If you have any questions or concerns, please return to your room and activate the call light. Our staff will be with you as soon as possible.” Doctor Abbot droned. The speech was practiced, he could recite it in his speech. On one occasion, he had. You had to stifle your giggles into a pillow to avoid waking him up. He’d be the first to admit that his bedside manner wouldn’t always get him a five star review, but he was a damn good doctor.

“Is that so?” you smirked, your head tilted to the side as you assessed him. Forget the lingerie set wrapped up in a black gift box, tied with crimson ribbon in your closet at home, you should get him some damn glasses for his birthday.

Your boyfriend finally whipped his head to look at you. His features instantly softened at the sight of you. He rounded the desk and led you to the staff break room with your joined hands. He was trying to keep a low profile, and based on the gift bag in your left hand and to-go container in the right, he figured giving you his one-on-one attention away from the prying ears and eyes from the likes of Myrna and the night shift nurses was in his best interest.

“What are you doing here?” Jack asked almost rhetorically. Before the deserted room’s door could shut, you were already unboxing a homemade slice of cake (with the promise that the rest of the cake was in his apartment fridge, waiting for him to devour) and had pulled out candles and a matchbox.

Jack watched you work with his toned arms crossed over his broad chest. He attempted to feign his baseline stoicism, but it quickly fell apart as he watched how excited you got while lighting the candles.

“You know, it’s against hospital policy to have an open flame,” the doctor informed you while wagging his finger. Jack knew his words didn’t even sound that convincing to himself.

“You were never much of a rule-follower anyway,” you quipped back, showing him a toothy grin as you finished up. The chocolate ganache layered cake was adorned with just a few candles. 

“Figured it would be a real fire hazard if I brought out all fourty-some candles.”

“Smart-ass.”

“Think you can take the heat?” Jack stepped to you, invading your personal space. His intense eyes never left yours as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He was tired, sure, but his seemingly ever-present fatigue was the furthest thing from his mind as he, who notoriously hated celebrating his birthday, stood alone in the break room with the woman he loved. Every year he spent with you just tasted sweeter and sweeter.

“Oh, I know I can,” you responded, flirtatious desire dancing in your eyes. You stepped back from Jack to give him room to blow out his candles, but not far enough to loosen the firm but gentle grip of his large hand on your hip.

With a dramatic inhale and gentle exhale onto the art that was your baking, the gray, gruff, bordering on geriatric, trauma physician blew out his birthday candles at 12:02 a.m.

“Happy birthday, Jack,” you smiled sweetly and pressed your lips to his.

2. Steelers Win the Super Bowl

The Steelers won the Super Bowl for the first time since 2009. Naturally, the Pitt was receiving an abnormally high amount of drunken party-related injuries. In all honesty, Pittsburgh’s fans were giving Philly’s Eagles rowdy fanbase a run for their money.

The betting board listed all different possible scores, plays, fouls, end zone dances, the variety of celebration-related incidents and injuries night shift would encounter in the Pitt, and finally, what kind of snacks Mrs. Abbot would be bringing in for the crew.

Earlier in the evening, Jack was told he wasn’t allowed to bet on the last item specifically.

“You know too much. It’s like insider trading.”

“Yeah, you’ve probably seen what she’s bought in groceries over the last couple of days. Or maybe you even talked about it!”

The security staff and techs volleyed back and forth as Doctor Abbot grew more and more annoyed. He just wanted to place a damn bet on what songs his wife’s favorite artist would be performing during the halftime show.

Doctor Abbot swore he had no idea what his wife had planned, or if she was even going to visit.

“Psh. She always visits when she knows your ass will be too busy to eat something on your own,” Shen interjected as he posted his bet on the board.

True.

When you walked in with two large boxes with Abby’s printed script on the sides in your arms, Abbot barely noticed the boxes threatening to escape your grasp. No, Doctor Abbot was much more transfixed by the little number you’d decided to show up at his workplace in. 

Your knee-high boots, fishnets, and tight leather mini skirt were more than enough to catch the eye of a concerning majority of hospital staff and lucid patients, but it was the oversized Steelers jersey you’d borrowed from Jack’s closet that had him subtly readjusting himself in the middle of the Pitt.

Shen and one of the security guards you’d seen at least half a dozen times generously offered to take the boxes off your hands and to the staff lounge. A few newer staff members were drawn toward the aroma, but instead of following the food to the break room, they stayed swarmed around you as you slowly made your way through the Pitt. Your boots, unfortunately, were not made for walking.

Jack huffed and wrapped up as quickly as possible, his eyes rarely leaving you. The junior staff surrounding you clearly weren’t aware that you were the Mrs. Abbot, otherwise, they certainly wouldn’t have been pushing their luck by flirting with you. As if the massive rock on your ring finger wasn’t enough of an indication that you were not available.

Doctor Abbot finally finished up and began his leisurely stroll toward his wife. He might’ve had more urgency if he wasn’t tired to his bones, if his muscles weren’t achey in a way that he knew only a warm bath with you tucked between his thighs would soothe.

That was until you started to bend over to adjust your boot.

Jack was at your back in an instant, preserving what modesty you had left. The leather skirt had ridden far too high up your thighs for his comfort. The junior staff scrambled away at the deathly dagger glare Doctor Abbot dealt to each of them.

Jack’s hips pressed firmly against your back, his hand splayed across your belly, pulling you against him. His lips were mere millimeters from your skin as he whispered into the shell of your ear.

“Trying to put on a show, hmm?” His warm breath fanned against you, and you wondered if your husband could feel your bounding pulse.

“Only if you’re the one watching,” your eyes fluttered closed and you leaned back into Jack’s strong form. Abbot hummed and squeezed your hip before gently pulling away. He intertwined his fingers with yours as you both joined Shen and half of the nightshift crew in the staff lounge. Your eyes widened to see that more than half the food was already gone, but you were happy nonetheless that it was being enjoyed.

Jack took in the spread you’d thoughtfully crafted for his crew. Buffalo chicken dip sat in the center of one of the Abby’s catering boxes, surrounded by fresh-baked pretzel bites. In the other tray, an assortment of veggies was wedged between hummus and your secret ranch recipe.

Jack grazed on the snacks, but never strayed too far from your side. His hand rested on the small of your back that was exposed, his thumb softly massaging your skin; You’d styled his Steelers jersey to a cropped fit by cinching it with a black and gold scrunchy.

Like always, it didn’t take too long before the momentary peace in the Pitt was interrupted. Doctors Shen, Ellis, and Abbot’s pagers all lit up simultaneously as an incoming trauma alert was called out over the PA system.

Jack pressed a chaste kiss to your lips and shamelessly squeezed your butt with his large hand before performing a final raid of the snack spread, shoving a combination of celery, pretzel bites, and buffalo chicken dip into his mouth before jogging to the ambulance bay.

3. Memorial Day

Memorial Day was always a tough day for Jack.

For most of the country, it was a day off from work and an excuse to cook out or spend an afternoon at the pool.

To Jack, it was a reminder of all the men he’d served with who died in action. Those who died from all-consuming PTSD and self-inflicted wounds. It reminded him of the accident that killed several servicemen—the one that he was lucky enough to survive, minus a leg.

Every year, you let Jack decide what to do for the day. Sometimes he drove for hours on end with no destination in mind. Just him, the open road, and a sense of control. Other years, the two of you stayed inside with the blackout curtains drawn and watched hours of shitty reality TV as sweet aromas wafted from the kitchen. Blue Bell vanilla ice cream paired perfectly with your chocolate chunk cookie recipe.

When the fireworks went off, Jack buried his head against your neck and held onto you like a lifeline.

Abbot joked that he’d put on at least a couple of pounds around his midsection since he began dating you. You simply shrugged and told him you were into it; into his stubble and graying hair, his soft tummy and firm, rippling arms, his “DILF vibe”, as you called it.

This Memorial Day, Jack decided he wanted to celebrate. He’d spent years mourning, and he always would. This time around, he wanted to celebrate his friends’ lost lives and honor the sacrifice they’d made.

Only after you’d checked with your husband multiple times to make sure he was okay with it did you invite Abby’s staff and the entire PTMC ER crew over to your home for a Memorial Day cookout. Half of the Pitt was scheduled to work, but the night staff made sure to stop by before their shift started, and the day shift arrived not long after, still in their scrubs and exhausted, but motivated by the promise of Mrs. Abbot’s food.

Jack insisted on manning the grill.

“This is where I shine, baby,” he insisted while checking over the grill and propane valves.

“Sure, honey,” you conceded with a light hum. You let him cook the burgers on the condition that he wear his “I rub my own meat” apron. It didn’t take much convincing.

More than one party guest groaned when they saw you weren’t preparing the hot dogs and burgers yourself, but their moods quickly turned around when they took in the sight of your kitchen island. No counter space was visible. The marble slab was covered corner to corner with various side dishes and desserts. Certainly, anybody with any dietary restrictions at the party could find something to enjoy.

This year, when the fireworks danced across Pittsburgh’s sky, Jack didn’t go inside. He didn’t draw the curtains. Instead, he held you tightly on his lap, surrounded by his friends and found family around your backyard bonfire.

4. The Bake Sale

You and Jack agreed early on in your relationship that kids just weren’t in the cards for you two. Given how dedicated you both were to your respective careers, it wouldn’t be fair to bring children into a home that was empty half the time. Neither of you wanted to give up your ambitions. It was a selfless decision, really. Every child deserves loving parents who want to have children, and that simply wasn’t you and Jack.

That didn’t mean you weren’t an absolutely kickass cool Aunt, though.

When your niece’s school ballet recital was coming up, your sister told you the PTA was arranging a bake sale fundraiser. Before she even finished her sentence, you agreed to help out. You would do anything for your little niece.

The morning of the recital, Jack watched his home turn into a bakery. You generously allowed him to taste test and even enlisted his help… in washing dishes and rearranging things in the kitchen to make room on the counter for the dozen pans you’d churned out.

“Honey… are you running the bake sale by yourself?” Your husband asked as he carefully slid slices of banana bread into small cellophane bags.

“Oh gosh, no! I’m just helping out a bit,” you called over your shoulder, wrist deep in powdered sugar. What an odd thing for him to ask.

Jack looked at the packed kitchen counters with his eyebrows raised. He loved your baking and cooking more than life itself, but there was no way you were going to sell out of this many treats.

The recital was beautiful. Sure, the kindergarteners weren’t exactly ready to be recruited by the New York City Ballet Company, but the joy on their faces and adoration from their families filled the room. The love was palpable and warm. It was comfortable.

Jack bought a bouquet of pink roses and baby’s breath for your niece. Ballet wasn’t his thing, but he loved spending time with you, no matter what you were doing. Motherhood was never something you craved, the same way fatherhood wasn’t something Jack ever pictured himself in. But the love you felt for your nieces and nephews? It knew no bounds.

Just as Jack suspected, your desserts were a hit at the bake sale and outsold other contributions by far. But, you were still left over with a surplus of treats that had the other PTA moms in shock. You and your husband had tasted more than your fair share of desserts during your baking spree, but you didn’t want the food to go to waste. You knew exactly the place to deliver the boxes of spare treats.

It was weird to see Doctor Abbot in the Pitt without his uniform. His jeans and collared button-up shirt stretched across his broad chest in a distracting way. Your husband caught you staring and winked at you with one of his signature smirks.

Abbot moved through PTMC’s halls with practiced precision. He knows the hospital like the back of his hand and could navigate it blindly. He knows it almost as well as he knows you.

Normally, your husband wouldn’t have you carry anything or lift a finger. But the Abby’s boxes and bags were too much to carry alone, even for him. So he carried the heaviest and told you where to scan his key card while you balanced a single light bag on your shoulder.

The two of you slipped into the Pitt, almost unnoticed amidst the chaos. Almost.

“Aye! Abby’s is here!” The charge nurse announced across the Pitt, earning the attention of every staff member. You waved to everyone with a kind smile while Jack used his chin to attempt to secure the top box in his arms. Doctor Ellis wasted no time making her way over to the couple, plucking the top two boxes out of Dr. Abbot’s hold and blowing a kiss to you as she passed.

“Thank you, Mrs. Abbot,” she grinned and disappeared into the staff lounge. Jack spared you a sideways glance, you shrugged in response.

You and Jack didn’t even make it halfway down the hallway to the breakroom before a flurry of staff members had taken the boxes and bags out of your hands, calling out Thank you! You’re the best! Mmm, this smells amazing!

Once the metaphorical dust settled, leaving you and Jack both empty-handed and alone in the hallway, you chuckled to each other.

No, the food would certainly not go to waste. Not on the Pitt crew’s watch.

5. The Soup Kitchen

At least once a month, Abby’s made an appearance at soup kitchens throughout Pittsburgh for unhoused people in the community. You had half a dozen tried-and-true recipes that were always a hit among guests, but you were ready to try something new. While you could’ve had Jack taste test for you, you knew he’d just tell you he thought everything you cooked was amazing. Which was true.

Usually, Abby’s was closed on Mondays, but you made an exception today to invite a handful of PTMC’s finest to sample the new soups. The physicians, nurses, and techs alike mingled in the dining room while they snacked on stray saltines.

You cleared your throat and commanded the room effortlessly. Jack stood to your side, his hands clasped behind his back. A small smile graced his face as he watched you in your element. The trauma physician admired the way your engagement ring glimmered in the light as you gestured to the spread in front of you.

“Listen up! Here’s the deal: Help yourself to some soup. Give me your feedback directly, or if Jack has threatened you,” you added pointedly, pinning your fiancé with a nonlethal glance, “feel free to write it down and leave it in the suggestion box. Constructive and complimentary feedback are equally appreciated. If you take leftovers home, I expect you to volunteer with me at a soup kitchen event at least once over the next couple of months. Got it?” You looked at the small crowd, smirking at the way they were practically drooling.

“Yes, ma’am!” They enthusiastically agreed in unison.

“Alright, kids, dig in.” You didn’t have to tell them twice. Kids, even though the majority of the present staff were older than you, your fiancé included. Nobody objected as they eagerly served themselves.

You leaned against Jack, who was already slurping the last drops of soup from his first bowl, and rested your head on his shoulder. It was nice to see the Pitt staff letting loose. Abby’s was your second home. You had worked tirelessly over the years to make it an inviting place for people to enjoy good food and relax; it was so rewarding to see the frontline workers let their guard down and take a deep breath.

Jack pressed a kiss to your forehead—it was like he could sense your racing thoughts.

“You do good work, baby,” he murmured sincerely against your hairline, massaging the small of your back with his free hand.

“You too, Doctor Abbot.”

a/n 2: Here's the deleted dialogue mwah. *set during the Steelers Super Bowl scene. Jack is taking in his wife’s arguably semi-scandalous outfit* “Aren’t you cold, baby?” “A hoe never gets cold.” “Don’t say that!” Jack replies instantly, exasperated. “Relax. I’m only your hoe.” Damn straight. “Also, I’m approximately 4 drinks deep, so I’m not feeling much of anything right now.” “That sounds more like it.”

COMMENTS ARE REALLY APPRECIATED!! They keep me motivated to write more <3

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[thebibliosphere]

Hello! I hope you don't mind me asking, but do you have any thoughts on Howard Schubiner's Unlearn Your Pain, Mind Body Syndrome, treating neuroplastic symptoms, etc.? I was just referred to a pain management group that centers around these concepts, and I'm having some Feelings about the whole thing.

Just wondering if you've had any experiences with this type of treatment, or thoughts about its effectiveness. Thanks!

Okay, so this is going to be long, and I'm going to need you to stick with me through the tangent. I promise it's relevant.

I haven't read Howard Schubiner's work directly, but his colleague Alan Gordon was a key speaker at the Migraine World Summit this year. I found his talk interesting enough to buy his book and do some more research on my own, and I found it worthwhile pursuing on my own.

I know enough from my mast cell disorder to know that the body develops 'bad habits' around pain.

In the case of anxiety, stress, or panic, mast cells become more reactive, and this can make pain worse. This is true for everyone*; it's just those of us with MCAS or some other type of mast cell disorder who have more alarming symptoms like idiopathic anaphylaxis.

So, unfortunately, if I, as someone with MCAS, experience an acute pain from an injury or illness, the inherent stress response of the pain and the out-of-balance response from my nervous system can make my mast cells degranulate. They're little fuckers like that.

Mast cells can also put your body on an inflammatory cycle that is counterproductive to healing. They can literally get trained to anticipate reactions and pre-emptively react, because again, they are little fuckers.

To give you an example of this for me: my major migraines, the ones that land me in the hospital, occur on the dot every ten days. There are no hormonal factors to this that can be found or other consistent triggers or stressors, but I was unknowingly being exposed to an MCAS trigger roughly every ten days for a while. When I realized, I removed the trigger, obviously. Problem solved, right? Unfortunatley no. By then, my mast cells had trained themselves into a new pattern, and the migraine now is both the response and the trigger. It's some bastard thing called Innate Immune Memory. But it's also, partly, my subconscious anticipating the event and priming my body for a reaction, which I am susceptible to because of my MCAS and dysautonomia, which is a type of nervous system disorder.

And this is where the neuroplasticity comes in.

I'm currently in the process of trying to unlearn this response and better regulate my nervous system, which unfortunately makes me sound like a TikTok girly with a link in bio to sell you cortisol healing tea, but I promise you the only thing I'm interesting in shilling is my smutty vampire books. (And this post will be how some people learn I write books)

Anyway, why am I bothering to explain mast cell dysfunction like this in relation to neuroplasticity?

Because, yeah, if a pain doctor handed me a leaflet about 'unlearning pain' and I didn't understand how my body is routinely sabotaging itself on a cellular level in response to acute and neuroplastic pain, I'd also be rolling my eyes and feeling like I've just been handed a bottle of snake oil in the market.

God knows I've been handed 'mindfullness' leaflets by enough shitty doctors who don't actually understand what it means when we say "stress affects the nervous system" and just assume the patient is inventing symptoms to be annoying.

Thankfully, that is not what this is. At least I am hoping the doctor sending you there doesn't think you are causing your own pain. What they are hopefully trying to do is introduce you to something that a lot of chronic pain patients are reporting helps them feel more in control of their lives after many years of feeling at the mercy of their pain.

I don't attend the sessions at my brain injury clinic (yet), but I do know they use neuroplasticity therapy to help amputees with the phantom pain they experience from missing limbs. My physical therapist spent an entire session singing its virtues to me while I was fighting for my life on a balance board. Which is also why I decided to look into it after I heard Gordon talking at the Migraine World Summit.

So, do I think Schubiner's methods are hokum?

No, I think there's a lot of merit to the things he talks about and explains, but I also know the only reason I think that is because of the insight I have into the brain-body bundle through the experiences of my mast cell disease that has taught me there is nothing the brain is incapable of fucking up.

Do I think targeting neuroplastic pain will work well for everyone?

No. I think you need to try it and see if it's a good fit for you.

Some people who attended the World Migraine Summit think it's snake oil/just another way for pain doctors to foist us off into the realm of mental health care. Conversely, other people won't shut up about how learning to break the cycle of fear and panic around their pain has been life-altering for them.

For me, it's been more subtle and is part of a broader spectrum of therapies and medical treatment I use to keep my nervous system in check. It certainly hasn't done me any harm. If anything, I found it quite validating to hear someone say, "Oh, the pain is in your head? Of course it is. Let's try to fix that," and then gave me actionable coping methods. They might not work profoundly in the long term. I'm still a sick bitch with multiple acute causes of my pain. But it's also not harming me the way mindfulness was (many chronic pain patients can find it traumatizing).

I will say, I am concerned that some doctors will use the treatment of neuroplastic pain to dismiss treating acute pain with physical causes.

Just like how mindfulness has been abused by an overworked, underfunded medical system not equipped to handle chronic patients, there's also the risk of neuroplastic therapy being tossed over the fence in a similar fashion as a last ditch Hail Mary to treat patients they don't have time for. But I don't think it's widespread enough yet for that to be the case.

I dunno. Give it a try. If it's not for you, it's not for you.

Personally, I hate anything that revolves around group therapy, but I did find the book "The Way Out" by Alan Gordon insightful in helping me figure some things out. Maybe see if your local library has it before you drop money on any sessions?

_ _ _

*There has also been more compelling evidence recently that suggests that chronic pain conditions like fibromyalgia are also affected by wonky mast cells. Also arthritis.

[remcadll]

Gen obsessed with how.. *dead* your Jason's color pallete is. Like, that's corpse pale right there. Not a spec of blood left flowing in there (also father Todd's skin being full of color in comparison is a nice touch)

THANK YOU I love making him look a bit ghoulish. Guy who's not supposed to be alive but yes he is. no he isn't <3

[sealsshitpostden]

Get into other fandoms, we will welcome you happily, Your feelings of attachment to the franchise ARE valid...but you HAVE to face them, and learn to move on.

I am very sure that if you ask anyone in a fandom ¨hey, i wanna get int something new, i want to get away from hp ¨ they WILL help you out, and i know i myself would too! Its always fun to get into a new hobbie...But as it stands, hp is a cancer that needs to be extirpated, please, please see it as it is...i beg of you...Others can make it easier for you, but...you have to make the choice to move on yourself. Fuck it, literally DM me if you are interested! I will get you into 7 different things that will completely take over you if you let them, i am into so many fandoms. Play limbus company if you want something gritty, yet wonderfully written, and with a fair share of silly! I have 1300 hours on that game, and its a gacha game so you WONT have time to even think about hp, or if you dont want that, try out library of ruina! it is an amazing story with a greatly designed ¨beat enemy, get to use enemy's power¨ that i think you guys might like! Lobotomy corporation also exists, if you like the thrill of overcoming impossible odds, and SCP...AND the fanbase is welcoming to an almost fanatic degree! Join us, we are totally not a cult. Get into retroachievements, play games from before you were born, or from when you were a kid but never played, some games can take months and months Play VRchat if you want to meet people or, fuck it even get into ERP, i do not care and noone else will in the slightest Balatro exists, You probably know of it. Read Percy jackson, its a classic for a reason...and fuck it, if you wanna keep at it with ¨magic school¨ you can play a minecraft modpack with some friends that is focused on magic! theres a ton of them HELL, get into writing! make your own, legally distinct magical world with your friends and enjoy yourself! Writing is great And if that sounds appealing, but too much work, Try out Dnd! TTRPGs have never, ever been more accesible, and 5e is super easy to pick up with the help of literally anyone who knows how it works, you can make your OWN magical story, where you do not even NEED to be the main character, you can perfectly play the role of a side character watching/helping the protagonists do their thing, while being equally as important if you so choose! the possibilities are endless! I have had to discard my childhood completely, I am transgender, and it was miserable...But you can do it, i believe in you! AND i do mean it, Harry potter's actor, Daniel Radcliff (Who is quite *rad*) whose entire thing was being known AS ¨guy who played harry potter¨ has manage to overcome that completely, and just does his own thing now! i love his acting even if im not a big movie gal. You can do it, you do not need your past, even if it may be a comfort, to be a worthwhile person today, to be happy. I feel like this is what people, angrily, think when they say ¨READ A NEW BOOK¨ but its veiled in so much exhaustion due to JK's horrible, horrible actions that...I feel like some people could do with this post! Anyways, have a nice day, i do mean it, thanks for reading this far.

Let me make this clear. If I see you reblogging Harry Potter, if I see you doing that "Hogwarts house" in bio bullshit, if I see you writing hp fanfic or whatever I assume you are a transphobe. "But it's my special interest!" Don't care. "But it's just fanfic!" Didn't ask. "But I'm trans!" You should know better.

Don't like it? Stop putting the works of the world's worst terf on your blog. I don't care if you pirate it, you're still giving the series continued relevance and you're publicly making yourself look unsafe for trans women to be around.

[prettygirl-gabi]

That Was For You

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Summary: communicating in more ways than one

A/N: Missing P in a uconn jersey hours- also was requested an awhile back!!!

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @cowboybueckers , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @elswhore , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog , @sayurireidotcom , @iwasbored-okay

There’s a certain kind of magic in Gampel Pavilion when it’s game night—loud, electric, pulsing with energy. But sometimes, that kind of magic is just too much.

Especially for a little girl with custom hearing aids and a soft spot for my girlfriend, and friends.

“Too loud,” JaNae signed to me with a tiny scrunch of her nose, pulling out her hearing aids and placing them gently in my hand.

I nodded, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Okay, baby. I’ll tell you what’s happening, okay?”

She nodded and tucked herself into my side, watching the warmups intently.

Paige was already sprinting through layup lines, laughing with Jana, Azzi, Ash, and KK. My eyes tracked her as always—my body calm, my heart wild.

And when she caught my eye, she winked.

Then she noticed JaNae on my lap. No hearing aids.

The next sequence happened slowly. Paige made a beeline for us, crouching just past the court line with a big smile on her face.

She pointed to JaNae and signed, slowly, Hi, Jae.

JaNae perked up immediately.

I watched, stunned and a little emotional, as Paige stumbled through the alphabet with her fingers, trying to spell Paige even though she knew JaNae already had a sign name for her—just the “P” flicked by her heart.

“I’ve been practicing,” Paige said sheepishly to me out loud while still signing the words she could.

My eyes burned. “You didn’t tell me.”

She smiled. “I wanted to surprise you. Azzi and KK have been practicing with me. Coach even brought in someone last week to start teaching us better.”

I couldn’t say anything at first, just leaned in to kiss her sweat-damp cheek. JaNae watched us with giddy interest, then looked back to Paige and signed: Play good.

Paige grinned and signed back: For you.

A month passed, and I noticed the changes almost immediately. Paige and her teammates weren’t just practicing—they were learning. Like, really learning.

They had weekly lessons with a local interpreter.

Paige would send me videos at night of her signing to the mirror, messing up, and then nailing it the second time.

The first time JaNae saw KK sign unicorn correctly during a FaceTime, she screamed so loud she almost broke the phone speaker.

And then came game day.

Gampel was packed. JaNae had her favorite plushie—a mini Husky—tucked under one arm and her other hand gripped mine tight.

She wore a custom “Bueckers 5” jersey with sparkly letters and had her little hoodie pulled up.

Just before warmups, the noise hit a pitch and she tapped my shoulder, frowning.

Too loud, she signed again.

I nodded and gently took the hearing aids from her. “Wanna still watch?”

Yes, she signed, firm.

Then Paige ran over. Behind her came Azzi and KK.

Even Sarah and Morgan followed close behind.

Hi, JaNae, they all signed in near unison.

JaNae beamed.

Dimples deep.

Tiny hands fluttering excitedly.

KK even asked, You okay?

I nearly cried.

Azzi crouched beside the seats to ask what color JaNae’s plushie was. JaNae, all grins, signed grey. Azzi laughed and told her cool.

Sarah had signed, how are the hot-ducks? But slowed down and tried once more signing, how are the hot-dogs.

JaNae signed, really good. thank you for asking.

Somehow Morgan was the only one that didn’t mess on what she wanted to say in sign which was I love your shoes, really sparkly.

JaNae of course was in so much shock she couldn’t respond.

When the buzzer called them back, Paige blew us both a kiss and whispered in my ear, “Remember the sign?”

I smirked. “Chest to you. Got it.”

She nodded. “She’s gonna love it.”

The game was a masterpiece. Paige was electric—fluid, confident, absolutely in her bag. She scored, dished dimes, dove for loose balls like it was a championship.

And when she hit her career high—a wild spin move into a three-point shot that blew the roof off the Pavilion—she didn’t celebrate with her team right away.

She turned toward the court-side seats. Toward us.

And she did it.

I love you—the hand sign. Then she pressed her fingers to her chest. Then pointed straight at JaNae.

“That was for you,” I signed to JaNae as her eyes widened.

She screamed without sound, clapping her hands fast, her eyes lighting up like Christmas. People turned to look at her, some even clapping along.

Paige’s POV

Post-game, I was still buzzed from adrenaline when the press conference started. Azzi was beside me, stretching her legs. KK had a sports drink balanced between her knees, sipping and smiling.

Then a reporter raised their hand. “For Paige, Azzi, and KK—there’s been a lot of buzz on social media about the three of you and the team learning ASL. Can you talk a little about that experience and what prompted it?”

I smiled immediately. “Yeah, absolutely. So, my girlfriend’s niece, JaNae, is deaf. She comes to a lot of games, and sometimes it gets too loud for her hearing aids. One game, I saw her take them off and just sit in Y/N’s lap while she signed the whole game to her.”

I paused. “We realized if JaNae was going to be around us—and we wanted her to be—we needed to do better. So we started taking lessons.”

Azzi chimed in. “It’s honestly been super humbling. It’s like learning a whole new language. You mess up, but then you see JaNae’s face when you get it right and… it’s worth every second.”

KK nodded. “We’ve got flashcards in the locker room. We quiz each other before games. It’s serious.”

A follow-up came fast. “Could the three of you sign a message for the fans watching at home?”

I blinked. “Uhhh… I mean we could… but only if we can get some help to make sure we don’t mess it up.”

I turned to the media coordinator. “Can someone get Y/N and JaNae? They’re just outside.”

Minutes later, JaNae burst into the room like a little storm cloud of energy. Y/N trailed behind, beaming.

JaNae scrambled up beside me and whispered, “Hi, Paigey.”

I grinned, and signed. “Wanna help us sign a message to the fans?”

She nodded fiercely.

The cameras rolled as we all signed Thank you for supporting us. Go Huskies!

JaNae giggled halfway through and gently turned to Azzi. “You did support wrong,” she signed, giggling.

Azzi gasped dramatically. “Not again!”

The room erupted in laughter.

“Okay,” KK said, leaning down, “Can you show us again?”

JaNae took all three of our hands and guided them through the motion. Then she turned to the camera and added her own message: My name is JaNae. Go Huskies!

Dead.

Everyone was dead.

Cameras flashing.

Phones out.

She stole the whole press conference.

After getting dinner and heading back to my place, JaNae finally put her hearing aids back in.

The quiet peace was a huge change from the arena buzz, and she curled up in the beanbag with her plushie.

“Paigey,” she said, voice small but clear. “You were really good.”

I sat down next to her and signed slowly, still speaking. “Thank you. I did it for you.”

She giggled, grabbing my hand. “I saw! You remembered our sign!”

“Of course I did,” I said, kissing her forehead. “It was our secret.”

Y/N leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes soft. “She wouldn’t shut up about it once you went to the back for press.”

JaNae stuck her tongue out. “Because it was the best.”

I looked at her seriously. “Hey. I know sometimes the noise is hard. But we’ll always figure out ways to talk to you, okay? Even if you don’t want to wear those.”

She blinked at me for a moment, then leaned forward and hugged me.

And when I looked up at Y/N, she mouthed, I love you.

I signed it back.

And I meant it with everything in me.

Y/N’s POV

I was already pulling out my phone the moment JaNae scooted back onto the beanbag, still chattering to Paige in that quiet way she always did after a long, loud day.

Her voice was soft but sure now.

Confident.

They were still signing along with their words, Paige correcting herself mid-sentence when JaNae pointed something out with that tiny furrow in her brow. And then they both started laughing.

I hit record, trying to stay quiet as I caught the moment.

Paige was sprawled out beside her like she belonged here.

In our little living room.

In JaNae’s world.

She didn’t rush, didn’t skip signs, even if she stumbled or looked to JaNae for help.

She stayed patient, playful, present.

After a minute, JaNae turned and flashed me a thumbs-up, then dramatically whispered, “Tell the internet I’m her coach.”

I snorted, tears threatening again. Typical JaNae.

By the time I posted the video to my story and feed, my heart was full in ways I hadn’t expected when the day started.

Caption:

my two fav girls bonding even more than they already do… definitely not crying… 🏀& 💫= ♾️

Within minutes, the comments were flooding in.

Azzi: teach me how to say “icon” in sign please

Nika: this better be on SportsCenter

And Paige? She reposted it to her story with the caption:

“All for you, Coach JaNae.”

God, I really loved that girl.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!💚💙

                             -prettygirl-gabi✨️💗

[kingdomvel]

New season boring af pt2

Steddie | modern au | famous actor Steve Harrington | 4.9k | ao3

part one

“Are you talking with that guy again?” The sound of Robin’s voice startles Steve, who can only lock his phone and slip it into his pocket to hide it from her. He wasn’t even talking with Eddie, that’s the embarrassing part. He was looking at the pictures that he had shared with him over the months they have been talking.

“No,” Steve says, but he must not sound very convincing.

“Steve! I’ve told you he could be a weirdo, or a stalker!”

“And I’ve told you he is not a stalker, he was not that interested in me before we started texting. And he works in a record store all the way in Chicago. I’ve seen it.”

“Do you understand the concept of catfishes? He could still be a stalker.”

“Well that stalker has seen my dick, so” Steve shrugs.

“WHAT? You whore!” Robin shouts, Steve is very thankful that they are alone in the makeup trailer now. “When did this happen?”

Steve crosses his arms and grumbles, knowing what is coming. “A month ago?”

“A MONTH?”

“Yeah.” And what a fucking month it has been. Steve can still remember that first time in perfect detail. Steve had not expected Eddie’s picture. At all. He had been hoping for a reaction, that’s why he had chosen that movie, but Eddie had given him something much better. The sight of his tented pyjamas was only surpassed by the sight of his actual dick on the video call later.

Steve will admit – only to himself – that it was reckless and dangerous, but it was also the culmination of weeks of studying Eddie’s picture, of watching time and time again the little videos he posted in his close friends stories (the day Steve had been added to the list was another peak for him, as embarrassing as that is) playing guitar and dicking around with his friends (maybe he was the stalker of the two). It was Steve seeing how he affected the guy he had the hots for after months of being sexually frustrated with barely enough time to jack off between filming. Because of course Eddie wasn’t only funny and nice to talk to, he also had to be the hot friend of his group.

He had not been planning for that reaction, but he was not going to pass up that opportunity. Seeing the hand he had seen wrapped around guitar necks for so long wrapped around Eddie’s cock… Steve was never going to forget that sight.

“This is crazy, like, do you even know his name?” Robin interrupts his thoughts.

“Of course I do, he’s Eddie.” He’s always known his name, it’s in his profile.

“Surname?”

Steve pauses. “You don’t know the surname of all your friends.”

“I think in this case you should have asked, Steve.”

“Why can’t you trust me with this?”

“I just worry about you, and maybe I’m a bit sad that you didn’t tell me sooner.”

“I knew you would just nag me about it.”

“Hah! So you know what you did was wrong!”

“If you didn’t want this to happen then you shouldn’t have made me watch Notting Hill.”

“That’s different!”

“How.”

“Well, for one it’s a movie,” she says, putting up a finger. Steve rolls his eyes and puts his hands on his hips. That’s pretty obvious. “Two!” Robin puts up another finger. “They met in real life, not the internet.”

“It was the 90s, of course they met in person. Are you saying that it would be fine if I went to Chicago and met him casually in his record store?”

“No, maybe, don’t try to distract me.”

“Keep your points coming, come on.”

“Three!” Another finger comes up. “Hugh Grant is... hot?”

Steve snorts. “Eddie is hot too.” They wouldn’t be having this conversation if he wasn’t. “And anyways, you are a lesbian, you have no opinion on this.” He waves it off with a hand.

“I still have eyes, and that’s what everyone says.”

“Not valid. Your arguments are not accepted, I know you don’t think Hugh Grant is hot.”

“But that’s not the point! Ugh, okay.” Robin pauses for a few seconds, but Steve knows she’s not finished talking. “So, he saw your dick, did you see his? Wait, no, don’t tell me details. A month ago? I still can’t believe it. Have you done that again?”

And there she is. Steve laughs. “Yes, we’ve done it again.”

****

Steve.hrrgtn: hey, just a quick question

Steve.hrrgtn: what’s your surname?

Batking: why? trying to steal it for yourself?

Steve’s heart should not skip like that from that line.

Steve.hrrgtn: just so I know who I should address the restraining order to when you finally try to murder me

Batking: fuck youve been talking with robin again?

Batking: its munson

Batking: edward munson

Batking: you need anything else? my social security number or something? Ill send you a picture of my drivers license

Steve.hrrgtn: I think I only need that for now, thank you for your cooperation

Batking: you better not be lying about the reason

Batking: if I catch you writing one mr and mr munson in your diary you will need the restraining order for real

Steve’s heart should NOT skip like that from that line.

****

Steve takes a picture on the mirror of the dressing room, stylists still all around him. Nobody pays attention to him, they are all too busy for that, packing up and chatting. Steve should be taking the graduation gown off so it can be packed up with everything else, just so they can go home earlier, but he had to take the picture first. He had taken pictures with the rest of the cast, sure, but this is different.

He is smiling, cap held in his hand.

Steve.hrrgtn: *picture attached*

Steve.hrrgtn: just graduated

He sends the message and moves to take the costume off and his own clothes back on. When he takes his phone back, there is a message already waiting for him. A smile makes its way to his face in a second.

Batking: at the grown age of 25, took you even longer than me and I did my senior year three times

Batking: congratu fucking lations

Steve.hrrgtn: you are an asshole

Steve.hrrgtn: but do you know what this means??

Steve moves around the room, thanking everyone. It takes him a while, so he is confused when an answer is not waiting for him when he looks back at his phone.

Steve.hrrgtn: Eddie?

Batking: *Screenshot of the I’M FREEEE!!!!!! WORST EXPERIENCE OF MY FUCKING LIFE meme*

Batking: this?

Batking: sorry sweetheart I was looking for the meme

Steve.hrrgtn: EXACTLY THAT

Steve.hrrgtn: not like the WORST because I met Robin here and all but FUCK YEAH it’s over

Batking: these four months of waiting for the torture to finish must have felt so long

Steve smiles, typing as he walks outside. They are having a wrap party later, so he needs to find Robin so they can get ready together.

Steve.hrrgtn: hmm not really

Steve.hrrgtn: I had someone sending me memes to entertain me that made the time fly

Batking: must be one hell of a lucky guy

Steve.hrrgtn: assuming genders now?

Batking: oh sorry, are you cheating on me with another meme provider? Am I not enough for you now? You looked for someone else to keep you company?

Steve knows this is just teasing, that Eddie doesn’t believe that. Still.

Steve.hrrgtn: nah

Steve.hrrgtn: just you

****

Batking: okay were you going to tell me your mother is a fucking coppola

Steve.hrrgtn: she is a very respected lady

Steve.hrrgtn: also barely a coppola

Batking: still a coppola

Batking: you are a nepo baby

Steve.hrrgtn: every day it amazes me how little you know about me

Batking: I like keeping you humble

Batking: my brain doesn’t understand that the steve from my phone is really the Steve Harrington on tv sometimes

Batking: so I try not to see stuff about you on the internet

Batking: feels weird

Batking: MY ROOMMATE ON THE OTHER HAND

Batking: he was reading your wikipedia page and your mothers name was in blue so he started following the lead

Eddie had told him once that he hadn’t told his friends about what they had going on, that they just wouldn’t believe him. That must have changed. It makes Steve feel giddy.

Steve.hrrgtn: aw you finally told your friends about me?

Batking: they said they are happy to feed my delusions

Steve.hrrgtn: lmao

Batking: anyway that’s not the point here

Steve.hrrgtn: whats the point?

Steve.hrrgtn: you already knew I was rich and famous

Batking: yeah but this feels different

Batking: you are a nepo baby its like I should hate you

Batking: but you are such a good guy

Batking: from a rich family, hot, nice, funny…

Batking: you cant have everything its unfair

The rich family part doesn’t really do anything for Steve. It’s just a fact. But Eddie complimenting his personality and appearance? That always works on Steve.

Steve.hrrgtn: is this a way to get me to call you?

Steve.hrrgtn: because in the words of a metalhead I know

Steve.hrrgtn: flattery works on me

Batking: it wasnt at first

Batking: but I wont say no to a call with the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen

Steve lets out a huff. Eddie and him both know what he did there.

He taps the call icon.

****

Steve stands frozen in the middle of his living room, the smile that had been on his face now completely wiped off. For the first time since he started talking to Eddie, his heart has dropped to his gut at one of his messages.

He keeps his gaze on his phone, the screen staring back at him.

There is a screenshot of a picture of him and Nancy coming out of a restaurant at night. He has his arm wrapped around her shoulders. That was just last night, Nancy had been upset and he had been trying to shield her from the flashes. The picture is accompanied by the headline ‘Caught in the act! Steve Harrington back with ex?’. Eddie’s message is under it.

Batking: glad you are having fun now that filming has finished

It’s- not right. Steve knows Eddie’s snarky comments, knows the feel his teasing. This is not it.

Steve.hrrgtn: I thought you didn’t look for stuff about my private life on the internet?

It comes out as defensive, and Steve instantly regrets it, but it had been one of the things he liked about Eddie, how he learned about Steve from him and not from rumours and the internet.

Batking: turns out that talking to you makes it unavoidable

Of fucking course it does. Who was Steve kidding? He knew this was bound to happen, that the media was going to be a problem at some point. He tries not to blame it on Eddie.

Steve.hrrgtn: it’s not like that

Steve.hrrgtn: she’s just a friend

Steve.hrrgtn: she had a fight with her boyfriend and needed a bit of a pick me up

Batking: you don’t need to explain yourself to me

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? At the end of the day, they have not even met each other in person. That doesn’t make this feel right.

Steve tries to imagine how he would feel if he saw Eddie having dinner with an ex. He doesn’t like the feeling at all.

Steve.hrrgtn: I still want you to know

He needs him to know.

Batking: really steve it’s okay

Batking: I shouldnt have sent that

Batking: Im not sure why I did

Steve has an idea why he did, but he is not going to say it, too afraid of fucking everything up if he does.

Steve.hrrgtn: its okay

Steve.hrrgtn: you are giving me an excuse to bitch about the lack of privacy and how much I hate paps

Steve is sure Eddie is going to recognize it as what this is. A weak attempt at diffusing the tension. Steve hopes it works.

Batking: you know im always open to listen to you bitching about your lavish life

It’s still a bitchy comment, but Steve lets out a sigh of relief. He recognizes that heat.

****

Batking: holy shit steve

That’s the only message on Steve’s phone, it’s the only message from Eddie for a couple of hours. Steve very patiently (or not) waits for him to elaborate, growing more and more nervous when he doesn’t.

Steve.hrrgtn: Eddie? Did you get murdered?

Batking: sorry I texted you as soon as I got the call and then the guys came over and I got swept way

Steve.hrrgtn: that’s okay

Steve.hrrgtn: but what happened? Something good?

Steve really hopes it’s something good.

Batking: we got a gig

Batking: like an actual gig

Steve.hrrgtn: holy shit eddie!

Steve.hrrgtn: that’s amazing

Batking: can I call you?

He doesn’t need to ask, he knows that. They are way past the point of internet acquaintances or friends who sometimes jerk off together on the phone.

Steve hits the video call button, and Eddie answers almost immediately. He is walking away from the cacophony of his friends, a blush high on his cheeks and his hair a mess even as he tries to brush it down. He looks stupidly good.

“Jesus, you look great,” are the first words out of Eddie’s mouth.

Steve snorts, he had been lying on the couch thirty seconds ago. His hair is a mess, he hasn’t shaved in two days. He never lets anyone see him like this. Eddie is different.

“Shut up. You got a gig!”

“We got a gig!”

“How did it happen?”

“You know my friend Chrissy?” Eddie asks. He closes a door behind himself and the noise is now gone, they are alone. Steve nods. “She got a job at a venue that doubles as concert hall and club and they are doing a metal week or something like that. They are bringing some very cool groups from all around the country- I’m so excited to see some of them- but that’s not the point. They wanted to give an opportunity to a local band and that’s where we come in!”

“They gave it to you?”

“They said they really like our vibe.”

“Of course they do,” Steve says with a snort. If Steve didn’t know better, he would say that Eddie just came out of a movie set set in the 80s. Perfect vibe for a metal week.

“Don’t laugh!”

“I’m not laughing! You do have the vibe. Tell me more about it, when’s this happening?”

“It’s very short notice but-“

Steve listens as Eddie tells him all about it, with his excited gestures and the wide smile that splits his face. They talk until Eddie’s friends come to get him to go for celebratory drinks.

As soon as the call ends, Steve calls Robin.

“How do you feel about going to Chicago in two weeks?”

****

The venue is loud. It’s already full when Steve and Robin arrive, just a few minutes before the concert starts. It’s not big, Eddie had told Steve so, but it still has a proper stage, and actual, stablished groups have concerts here. It’s a big step from the bar where Eddie and his friends usually play to an audience more interested on their drinks and conversations than in listening to them. People had to pay for this, even if it was a ticket that included a drink or if it was included into the week pass.

Batking: we are about to come out and I’m nervous as fuck

Steve.hrrgtn: I thought everyone already knew you were gay?

Batking: shut up

Steve.hrrgtn: don’t be nervous

Steve.hrrgtn: I know you are going to be amazing

Batking: I wish you were here

Batking: its going to be the gig of the century

Okay so Steve has not told Eddie that he was coming to see him, so what? He really wanted to see him in his natural environment, just him, not influenced by the knowledge that Steve would be in the audience.

Steve.hrrgtn: I’m always with you

Batking: you know what I mean

Steve.hrrgtn: don’t worry about that

Steve.hrrgtn: you go give the best performance all these people have ever seen

They stay out of the dancefloor slash pit, up in the balcony next to the cloakroom. They have a great view of the stage and the only reason Steve can think for them being the only ones here is that it may not be allowed, but an employee starts walking towards them and just turns around when he takes a good look at them.

Batking: okay we are coming out now

Batking: ttyl <3

Steve.hrrgtn: <3

“It’s starting,” Steve tells Robin. Just a couple of seconds later the lights dim and four figures take up their positions at the stage.

When the music starts, it is loud.

Steve feels so fucking proud. He had seen videos of Eddie’s band performing at bars or jamming in the studio they rent, but they are not like this, they are nothing like this. It’s like they had been living in a cage and were now released in the wild. Steve was  fully prepared to lie to Eddie about what he thought of the concert. He has seen a lot of groups more experienced than Eddie’s that were not as good, that didn’t know how to hype up the audience like them, that weren’t so natural with it. Now, seeing Eddie on stage, he knows that he won’t have to lie about them being incredible.

Steve’s eyes can’t stray from Eddie. It’s like a magnet. Better than any video, better than any call. He can see the whole him, the way he moves, the way he smiles and his hair flows. The way his fingers move on the guitar. He can’t wait to be closer to him.

“Try not to ruin your underwear before you even meet him,” Robin yells into his ear. Steve pushes her away from him, but they are both laughing.

Steve has been wondering for days about how will Eddie react when he sees him for the first time. If it will be after the concert, when Steve inevitably makes his way to the green room, or if Eddie will be able to spot him in the audience. If maybe Steve will miss the moment Eddie’s eyes land on him.

The moment ends up being impossible to miss.

“Holy shit,” Eddie says into the microphone.

His eyes are focused on Steve, his mouth gaping. Steve laughs and waves to him and Eddie gives him a small wave in answer from the stage before his eyes jump back down to the audience.

“Holy shit you guys are great,” he tries to brush it off. “Keep the energy up for the next song!”

The concert continues, but now Steve catches Eddie’s eyes every few minutes, a smile coming to both their faces every time.

It’s not long before Eddie is speaking again.

“It is with great sadness that I must inform you that the next song is our last. Yes, yes, I know, very sad,” he says in response to the oohs from the audience. “I just wanted to take a minute to thank the organization for putting their trust on us and giving us this opportunity. Also to all of you good humans that decided to use your money to come see us, I expect your follows by tomorrow.” He starts playing, the others matching the rhythm. A repeating single note. “To all the metalheads and non-metalheads here,” he adds, louder, his gaze fixing on Steve. “I’m taking groupie applications. The requisites are: One! Be a male, sorry ladies. Two! Be 25 years old. Three! Have great hair. And four, have at least one teen choice award for best shirtless scene.” There are confused sounds from the audience, but Eddie is grinning and Steve is laughing. “Very easy to meet, the backstage door is impossible to miss.” He flicks his gaze to the side, and Steve follows it to see a door at the side of the balcony. He sends him a thumbs up. “Okay, lets rock this shit!”

The concert ends with a bang, and Steve and Robin scurry off to the backstage door before people start coming up to go out for a smoke, because not many people seem to be going home yet, the venue staying open as a bar. They don’t run into any problem because again, an employee takes one good look at their face and opens the staff only door for them. Steve has to admit that sometimes being  so famous has its perks.

The sound of the music gets muted the moment the door closes behind them. The corridor is long, but they only have to follow the shouts of exited boys.

Eddie is the first person Steve sees when they get to the green room. He is jumping up and down while hugging his friends and they all scream. Steve crosses his arms and leans on the doorframe with a grin, Robin next to him. Eddie must catch the movement with his side eye because he stops and turns to them with a grin.

“I told you you were going to do great,” Steve says as a greeting.

The other boys finally stop too, and Steve sees the confusion and disbelief down on their faces when they take them in.

“Eddie, tell me I’m not seeing your imaginary boyfriend,” one of them says.

“You are Gareth, aren’t you? The roommate,” Steve says, pointing at him while he walks over. “Eddie has told me about you.”

Gareth takes his hand with his mouth wide open and barely a coherent thought behind his eyes. Steve sees Eddie’s eyes land with a laser focus on their clasped hands.

“Can’t believe I owe Chrissy twenty,” another boy says with a groan. Jeff, Steve is pretty sure.

“You bet I was making it up?” Eddie asks, offended.

“I bet you were too deep into a parasocial relationship.”

“And I bet you were getting scammed by a catfish,” the other boy says.

Robin lets out a cackle.

“I told Steve the same thing!”

They start talking around them, but Steve doesn’t care. He is two steps away from Eddie, he can see the sweat from the concert glistening on his skin, the deep brown of his eyes staring into him. He needs to close that distance. Before he can take a step forward, Eddie speaks.

“Do you want to come out for some fresh air? There’s a fenced back area for deliveries, should be empty.”

Does Steve want to go with Eddie to a spot with just the two of them? Fuck yeah.

“Yes! The air is so stuffy here, I might die if I don’t come out for a few minutes,” Robin says.

Eddie moves his eyes from Steve to her, his smile turning awkward.

“Right, yeah. Guys, we are stepping out for a couple minutes, okay?” Eddie calls out, taking a leather jacket from the back of a chair. “Follow me.”

Steve’s gaze drops to Eddie’s ass when he walks past them and back into the corridor. Fuck. He needs to close that distance.

Eddie holds the door to the outside for them, gesturing for them to come out with his other hand. His fingers are twitching, his whole body is, for that matter. He’s nervous, Steve can tell.

The door closes with bang after them, and they stand in the dimly lit outside. Robin is talking, and Steve feels just a bit bad about how Eddie and him are very obviously not listening to her.

Eddie is fiddling with the zippers of his jacket, his eyes roaming Steve’s body and flicking to Robin for a second from time to time.

They stay like that for a couple of minutes before Eddie takes a pack of cigarettes from a pocket of his jacket.

“You smoke?” he asks Steve.

“I’m an actor,” Steve says as answer.

Eddie smiles and, before Steve can reach out to grab a cigarette, Eddie has grabbed two and put both in his mouth. He moves to put the pack back in his pocket before he seems to remember that they are not alone and offers it to Robin, but she declines and starts talking about how tobacco is bad for your lungs and teeth, actually.

Steve can only look as Eddie lights both of the cigarettes at the same time and offers one to him. He takes it, their fingers brushing and sending electricity all through Steve’s body, their eyes fixed on each other.

“Okay, this is too much, I’m going inside.” Robin says, both boys turn to her. There is a beat of silence, and Steve realises she was waiting for one of them to say something, but they are both too late. “Your friend Chrissy was at the bar, right? I’ll tell her to get me a drink, you boys just… do whatever, no rush. Just- be careful or whatever.”

They stare at the door until it closes, the bang the one thing that makes Steve snap back towards Eddie. The boy is taking a drag of his cigarette and Steve mirrors him.

“Sorry, I just-“ Eddie starts. He is flicking the barely there ash. Steve can guess he needed something to do with his hands more than a real smoke. “Part of my brain is still trying to keep up with the fact that you are actually here and real and not a creation of my imagination.”

“Why? You fantasize about me that much?”

“Oh, you have no idea sweetheart,” Eddie answers with a sly smile.

Fuck. Hearing that directly from Eddie, looking at his face while he says it with no phone screen separating them is making the metre between them feel unbearable.

“You know what they say, sometimes you need to touch to believe.”

Eddie chuckles. “I’m not sure that’s right.”

But he still takes a step forward and the next thing Steve knows is that Eddie has a hand cupping his face and their lips are squeezed together in a messy kiss. Steve barely has time to answer to the kiss, drop the cigarette and grab Eddie back before the guy is pushing away and putting a hand up between them.

“Sorry, I should have- very real by the way.” Eddie says, punctuating the last part with a wave of his hand. “Great advice there, I-“

He can’t say more, because now it’s Steve pulling him closer into a kiss. There is no interruption now so the kiss goes on, and on, and Steve makes Eddie open his mouth to kiss him deeper, pulls him closer to him. This is everything he had hoped for and more. Eddie matches him beat to beat.

They get lost into it, until some voices come from their side, and Eddie pushes him away against Steve’s protests. He doesn’t allow him to go too far, one of his hands holding Eddie’s face and the other his hip close to his.

“You want to wake up to some scandalous headlines?” Eddie asks with a smile.

“Maybe they will get the memo if they find me on my knees for a guy.”

“Getting ahead of ourselves here, Steve,” Eddie says, but Steve sees how his eyes darken.

“Sorry, did you have better plans for tonight?”

Eddie shakes his head, “nothing that could beat corrupting the golden boy.”

“You think our friends will forgive us if we just leave?”

“Jesus, I really hope they do, I’m not stepping back inside and getting distracted.”

Steve laughs and kisses Eddie again, just a short press of lips. “Lead the way then.”

****

Steve.hrrgtn

New instagram story

Image id: a group playing on a stage, the lights surround them, a sea of hands holding drinks and heads below. There is a caption on it

“The gig of the century”

@/corrodedcoffin

ClubHarrington: Steve Harrington just shared an Instagram story from a metal concert in Chicago.

        MrsHarrington: since when does steve like metal??

        Stevenation: omg!!! He’s in my city Whats he doing here!!!

        Stebitch: guys a friend of mine went to the concert and told me that the guitarist said he was taking groupie applications and started describing Steve when he listed the requirements

               + What???? That’s just creepy, I hope Steve gets away from that fast

               + omg!! Did anyone record it?? I need the video! I need to see Steve’s reaction to that!!

Stebitch: they are a very small band so no one was recording but I swear he did

               + do you guys think they are…. You know….

                       - Your mind

****

Steve walks back into the room with two glasses of water and kicks the door closed behind him. Eddie is still naked on the bed -Steve hasn’t put any clothes back on himself- and he is lying on his side, snickering while he looks at his phone. Steve stops, takes a second to admire Eddie’s naked back.

Steve’s phone pings on the nightstand. There’s only one person he has his sound on for.

“Did you seriously just send a meme to me?”

Eddie turns his face to look at him, “sorry, force of habit.”

Steve lets out a sigh and puts the glasses down on the nightstand. He gets on the bed and hugs Eddie from behind, hooking his chin on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Come on, show me what’s so funny you had to send me now.”

Eddie scrolls back up.

tag list (sorry if I missed someone): @steddiefication @tailsfromthecrypt @orionchildofhades @coralineinwonderland @theohohmoment @what-if-a-dragon @juiceicicles @margaglitterdeath @sofadofax @estrellami-1 @dreamercec @bisexual-chaos-demon99 @queenie-ofthe-void @scoops-aboy86 @me-ig7 @efratfangirl @what-if-a-dragon @juiceicicles @margaglitterdeath @sofadofax  @estrellami-1 @dreamercec @bisexual-chaos-demon99  @queenie-ofthe-void @scoops-aboy86 @me-ig7 @efratfangirl @live-laugh-love-dietrich @yesdangerpls @nerdyglassescheeseychick @agree2disagre-kicks @fuzzyduxk @saramelaniemoon @disrespectedgoatman @aol19 @yikes-a-bee @adealwithher @coralineinwonderland @sanctumdemunson @comedictragedy @marklee-blackmore @karakro @yusukesmomjeans @lumoschildextra @pondypip @xtraordinarally @bridget-malfoy-stilinski-hale @child-of-cthulhu @shrimply-a-menace @ravenfrog

[zeropro]

hi I really love your art I just wanna eat it and consume its knowledge but that’s kinda impossible so I wanted to ask a bit about your process? How do you pick your colors? I really like your color palettes :))

Aw heck thank you!

Here are my color swatches since you asked:

I can go over what I remember of my thought process when picking these colors.

Lets start with Starscream since I really wasnt drawing anyone else back then. I know some of the toys has him as more of a grey mech but I always saw his body as white, but even then I didnt want it to be a pure white. I decided silver would be a good compromise, and to me silver is a light grey with more of a cool tone to it, which meant the grey of his helm and faceplate had to also be more cool toned to match. I also didnt want his helm to be too dark even tho I think it’s supposed to be black? It’s just better for readability, I use that helm color for anything that should be dark grey to black, like car tires. I gave his face a darker grey than the body since Starscream has a darker face than Thundercracker and Skywarp in the cartoon.

From there I think I just tried out different reds until I found one I liked, a bit of trial and error. I might have made it slightly muted cuz it felt less heroic? I don’t really know haha. I just know when I picked a red for the Autobots I made it more saturated. I also don’t know why I chose that particular shade of blue, since I think Starscream’s arms are usually a lighter blue? Must have just decided it worked best with the red, or maybe the reference I was using just happened to be darker.

His eyes (and the eyes of pretty much all cold constructed bots) are pure saturated red.

And then I decided all cybertronians would have blue tongues since their blood is blue.

When I started drawing other seekers I decided they should all have the same faceplate and helm color. The only exception is sunstorm, who I decided to give a warmer toned grey for his helm and faceplate. I think it makes him look out of place among the seekers, which is the point

Thundercracker just straight up shares his color pallet with Starscream, but Skywarp needed his own swatch since neither of them had purple in their designs besides the decepticon logo, and I wanted skywarp’s purple to be different from the purple used in the decepticon logo.

For the longest time my color swatches were just Starscream’s colors plus a purple for Skywarp. Ive been slowly adding colors as the need arises. I prefer reusing swatches over color picking new colors every time, like how Sunstorm and Bumblebee share the same color Yellow. That said, I’m also stingy about adding swatches too XD usually I wont add a color to the pallet until the third or fourth time I have to pull up an old comic to eyedropper from. not sure why I havent added swatches for rumble yet tbh

idk if any of that was interesting or made sense, but thanks for asking XD

[rasoyas]

snow day! ❄ piper wasn't a huge fan of sledding, tbh.

[pureastrologywisdom]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 9𝔱𝔥 ℌ𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔄𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔶

If you have 9th house placements you may feel a pull towards ‘higher knowledge/learning’. Whilst for some this may be studying through university this is often also through travelling and exploration. Often life opens up and you feel more alligned when or after travelling. Travelling aids in your self discovery and you may ever find you want to live in a foreign country perminantly.

I have found that you can be really interested in other cultures from your own and love to understand others peoples way of life. For this reason you are some of the most open people you will meet.

another interesting pattern I have seen with people with 9th house placements is your interest in foreign language or languages that differ to their native language. This goes hand in hand with travel also and interest with other cultures. This is especially prevalent if you have mercury or the sun in the 9th.

Planets here also indicate an attraction towards foreign people or people who grew up in a different culture/country. Especially if Venus is placed here.

Thank you for reading,

Pureastrowisdom x

[valdevia]

I always try to turn asks I publicly reply to into an interesting post on its own, so I always have a tough time replying to people who just send me an ask to say nice things! (It's also hard because of the sheer amount of them I get sometimes, got hundreds of things in my inbox!) But I do read them all and deeply appreciate them, so here are some recent ones I liked!

Thank you to everyone who stops by and sends me a few nice words! Your messages really make my day :)

[elbdot]

How's El's relationship to Latios (and vice versa)? Does Latios still visit Latias from time to time? And will we see Latios with the gang at some point? (Also loved the mega evolution comic, I think it portrays them nearly perfectly.)

OH NO Now I got y'all invested in Latios/Latias relationship 😂😭 I'm so sorry but a Latios-arc is definitely not on my list of plot points at all, I better make this clear now before everyone thinks I might be building up to that, hope you guys aren't too disappointed 😭 It's my own personal bias - I just like Latias way more than Latios 👉👈

Also Latios is all the way in Hoenn and the story will continue to take place in Alola, I want to focus more on establishing present relationships between the already introduced Pokemon and their trainers 👀

If it helps I think Latias and Latios connect by speaking telepathically to one another - It's more difficult the further away they are from each other, so it takes Latias time to reach him when she wants to speak to him over long distance. It's all about honing your psychic skills through meditation - fuck I keep on rambling I'll just get you guys invested more JGDKGKDFKJGKJF

[dyktvideogamesfx]

Also.

Guh. I suppose I should address this absolutely asinine milestone.

Thank you all for your support, interest and engagement with this blog. I NEVER expected it to get as popular as it did - nor did I expect so many kind words, excited asks and fun reactions to polls.

I intend to keep on doing this for as long as I can! Or until we run out of Video Games.

Again, I thank you all for this! This is a delight and I'm so excited to do more :D

[sorry for the scribbly quality i drew this with a trackpad dgjkhfg]

[moonstruckme]

i mean if you INSISTTTTT….can we see intern reader trying to be flirty back with spence. or like them hanging out/doing something together maybe outside of work, the rest of the team can be there or not idk i just love them and your writing so much hehehe

Thanks for your request angel <3

cw: football concussion statistics? idk not trying to piss off any diehard nfl fans. oh also american football being referred to simply as football because I'm also not trying to piss off the rest of the world, and lastly some borderline HR violations

Spencer Reid x intern!reader ♡ 1k words

“Alright, Jack!” Prentiss claps, before sticking her fingers into her mouth and letting loose a piercing whistle that makes both you and Garcia flinch in surprise. 

“Way to make the extra pass, kid!” Morgan shouts across the field. 

On the other side of the grass, Hotch nods like he seconds this, though his expression stays focussed and his eyes on his players. 

“He’s getting really good,” JJ says. 

Next to you, Garcia grimaces. “I wish he’d be good at something else.” 

“Beautiful,” Morgan chides, “don’t crush the kid’s dreams.” 

“He’s just a sweet summer child! There are, like, a crazy amount of concussions in football. I’m just looking out for him.” 

“In recent years, the NFL has reported a significant decline in concussions in professional football players,” says Spencer. 

Morgan makes a smug noise. “See? He’ll be alright.”

“But,” you raise your voice hesitantly, “wouldn’t the NFL have a bit of incentive to report that?” 

You’re looking at Spencer out of the corner of your eye. He meets your gaze, lips quirking. 

“Exactly,” he says. “That’s what I think, too. Independent studies have been less favorable.” 

Garcia mimics Morgan’s smug noise, victorious. Before she remembers to be worried and frowns again. 

Morgan laughs. “Hey, I didn’t sign him up. Jack likes football, you gonna tell him to quit?” 

Garcia comes back at him with some teasing remark, but you’re distracted by Spencer’s eyes still on yours. He’s looking at you like there’s something he can’t quite make sense of, which is happening so often lately it’s almost laughable. You have the most obvious crush in the world, and certifiable genius Spencer Reid can’t figure you out. 

You look away first. 

It’s sort of humiliating, how things have escalated between you in the last week. Every bit of that is your fault. You know it’s not professional, but you’ve spent lots of time thinking about it, and really a bit of flirting isn’t so bad if you know nothing is going to come of it. It’s harmless. Spencer is just so, so nice to you, you can’t help but want to be nice back; walking the line between friendly and something-else sort of comes with the territory. You would never actually endanger your position at the BAU. You only want Spencer to feel as special as he makes you feel. He deserves that. 

First it was bringing him breakfast after he helped you prepare your testimony. You wanted to thank him, so you picked up some breakfast tacos like he said he used to have back home in Las Vegas, and so what if you only know that because you’ve spent so much time chatting together? You’re training to be a profiler, remembering details is part of your job. Then you started complimenting him more, which was really just giving yourself permission to say your quiet thoughts out loud, making genuine observations about his taste in psychologists and the care he shows for witnesses even when the whole team is in a rush. And then maybe you began letting him teach you some things about chess even though you’ve never been interested in the game before, and bumping his knee gently under the table when he’s rambling without realizing everyone else has already moved on, and exchanging little smiles when you both look up from your desks at the same time. So what? None of that is a fireable offence. 

“I’m gonna go get water,” Spencer says, standing and starting to descend the metal bleachers. 

“Can you grab me one?” Prentiss asks. The rest of your team immediately chimes in with their requests, and you take a step down from the bleachers as well. 

“Want help?” you ask. 

Spencer seems to have been picturing the same thing you have: him coming back from the cooler in Garcia’s trunk with arms overflowing with plastic bottles, leaving a trail of them all the way back to the bleachers. He looks relieved. “Please.” 

You hop down, unable to look him in the eye when you take the hand he offers you for the last couple of steps. The sun is out in full force today, glinting off the metal of the bleachers and every car in the parking lot. The pavement radiates heat. 

Spencer hovers a hand above his eyes. “I wasn’t made for this.” 

“It’s a hot one,” you agree. 

“If Jack had a different hobby, we could be inside at a science fair right now. With air conditioning.” 

You chance a look at him. “Isn’t being involved in sports good for kids?” 

Spencer shrugs, though you’re sure he knows the answer. “I turned out okay.” 

Your lips tug. There’s no denying that. 

“Here.” You take off the baseball cap you’d put on for the game, holding it out for him as he pops open Garcia’s trunk. You pray to God the hat isn’t sweaty. 

Spencer only looks at it, surprised. “Oh, I—that’s okay. I’ll be fine.” 

“No, look.” You take a pair of sunglasses out of your bag, putting them on. “See? Now neither of us will have the sun in our eyes.” 

“Really?” Spencer asks, only taking the bill of the cap in hand once you nod. He settles it on his head like it’s his first time wearing one. “Thanks. Do I look stupid?” 

You shake your head, staring. “You look good,” you say. It comes out unchecked, before you can think about it. God, you’re so obvious. It’s true, though. Spencer’s still squinting a little even with the shade over his eyes, but it’s relaxed some; it reminds you of the way he looks when he’s puzzling something out. You’re hopelessly endeared by it. His hair, grown to what Garcia lovingly calls boy band length, wings out of the sides of the cap. Practically begging to be coiled around your index finger. 

“Thanks,” Spencer says again, the faintest tinge of pink—which can probably be attributed to the beginnings of a sunburn—kissing his cheeks. 

Bashfulness softens your voice. “No problem.” 

He opens the cooler, starting to scoop up waters and sports drinks (though one of the team moms is supplying drinks for the kids, Garcia had packed for you all like you’d be on the field too). Condensation drips down Spencer’s wrists. 

“Thanks for helping with this, too,” he says. 

“Pretty sure this is what interns are for,” you joke as you grab some too. 

“Always undermining yourself,” Spencer chides, something almost like teasing in his voice. It makes your stomach crowd with butterflies. “You know you’re more than that to us.”

[russellbee]

MEETCUTESNYC LESTAPPEN VER. (MV1, CL16)

charles leclerc x driver!childhood friend!reader x max verstappen (no team or gender specified) summary. you, max, and charles are approached by the meetcutesnyc instagram account, and this is how it goes. (1k) warnings. should be none!! andi's note!! obviously this is not the oscar fic i was working on but i keep seeing these reels on ig and i got inspired :) — if you don't know what i'm talking about the account is meetcutesnyc & they go up to couples and ask them how they met, etc.

nav+masterlist

meetcutesnyc Sports Rivals

["Excuse me." You, Max, and Charles all look up at the sound of his voice. Max has a blank look on his face, expecting a fan interaction, while you and Charles both look a little spooked. "Are you two a couple?" The person behind the camera gestures to you and Charles.

Max snorts, "All three of us, actually." You roll your eyes as Charles nods. "That's awesome. Would you guys mind telling me the story of how you all met?" Charles visibly lightens up, and he nods eagerly.

"I will tell the story."

The camera cuts, and now you're all standing along the edge of the sidewalk with Charles in the middle. "I met them both in karting when I was seven, but they met when they were younger. They hated each other, and at first, I played the mediator, for a while, actually. But then, Max really started to get on my nerves." Charles laughs a bit, his cheeks turning rosy. "So we," He gestures to you and him, "Became his number one hate group. He was our enemy." Max rolls his eyes at 'enemy' before interjecting.

"I was their enemy because I was better, of course." You and Charles both begin speaking over each other, arguing about your skills. Max just laughs as you both go on. Eventually, Charles calms down enough to continue. "Then, it was 20, uh, 2015. They come up to me and say that they went out on a date with Max-- him of all people! I was outraged. First, he got an F1 seat, then he got my crush, too? Oh, it was horrible. It destroyed me."

You shake your head, an amused smile on your face, "He's being dramatic, he literally asked me out the next day." Charles gasps. "I am telling the story, let me continue."

"So, I learn of this and then I go to Max and tell him about my feelings for them. Then Max just goes 'oh I like you too if you're cool with that'. I was shocked! Who wouldn't be? So, the next day I go up to them and I ask them if they want to go out on a date with me and Max. Obviously, they said yes. And now we are here, many years later."

"What's the secret to ten years together?" Max's face scrunches up in response and he turns toward the two of you. "Has it really been ten years?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Before they can start bickering, you answer the the original question. "We work together so it's really easy to see each other, but when we don't that's a little hard, obviously. But, I think our rivalry keeps things going, even during the off-season, we're arguing or joking about something that happened 13 years ago."

"Racing against each other definitely makes it very interesting. Adds some fun to everything, I think." Max teases, his eyebrows raised. "It's also just nice in the summer; we go on vacation and don't do anything. We just enjoy our time together," Charles adds.

"And what are your names?"

"Charles." "Max." "Y/n."

"Thank you." You wave toward the camera, and the video ends.]

view comments

user charles and y/n being the original max haters...yeah i could've guessed that lol

user the funniest part is they're like his biggest defenders now 😭😭 user the verstappen hater to max defender pipeline is in fact very real, no one can resist his charm ↳ user loser cat dad charm ↳ user user duh ofc user gax rivalry at the end of 2024...where he mentioned how y/n and charles would do anything to defend max...uh huh, yeah cool

user charles being so excited to tell their story 😖 he just knows everyone will eat it up

user and i did. i've watched this video 30 times now and it just keeps getting cuter

user "adds some fun to everything" oh yeah i'm sure it does max 😼

user never forget las vegas 2023...i have those pictures saved to a special pinterest board that i look at every day ↳ user and las vegas 2024...i can't wait for november, las vegas has become their number one race for being insanely hot in public user max always needs to add an innuendo if he's in an interview with either of them 💀

user i was today years old when i learned they've been dating for ten years...i thought this was a recent thing

user you and max apparently 😭 user it's been recent publically, but everyone kinda assumed they've been dating for a while just bc of the way they act

user playing the y/n champagne pour edit on my tv while i watch lestappen interviews on my phone

user #1 y/n edit, good choice user every time i see anything related to any of them, i'm opening my camera roll to watch the edits i've saved

user max looked so offended when the guy didn't realize all three of them were dating 💀 how obvious does he think their relationship is

user literally everyone knew before they announced it lmao ↳ user how do you think they look to an outsider tho? not everyone's an f1 fan ↳ user never forget ted kravitz interviewing y/n pre-silverstone 2022 where they jokingly said they were gonna crash into charles for 'leaking their relationship' and then having to do damage control later when they actually (accidentally) crashed ↳ user user watching those interviews seasons later actually had me crying 😭 literally no one would believe them

user watching this makes me wonder how the grid deals with third-wheeling them all the time, it must get tiring at a certain point

user they seem so fun to be around tho, they're always bickering 🥲 user please tell me you've seen those compilations on yt of clips of the grid being annoyed/rolling their eyes at them whenever they're around 🙏🙏 ↳ user OMG??? i'm about to run to youtube i need to see this

[radioactive-alien-thing]

Azuretime x reader polygamous please! We need more of them frfr

I'm not sure about the specific plots, but maybe when Azure came out as a killer for the first time and they all reunited?

You can choose whether or not reader was also in the cult. But they prooooobably didn't know about the sacrifice? Maybe they might've also almost got sacrificed, but Two time failed and they got Forsaken™ first?

Yeah, that's about it. I think. I forgot to say when I said we need more Azuretime x reader, I meant angst 😈😈 /hj

The relationship is gonna so strained, but the dynamic would be kind of interesting?

Take your time with the requests! Your health and happiness is the first priority!

❤️❤️❤️❤️ /Platonic

HAAAIIII omgosh sorry this took so long!!! and sorry if it’s. not the best!!! i hardly write angsty so thank you for this practice!!! hope u enjoy regardless<3

azure x two time x reader - unspoken confessions

not much really concerns you these days. after numerous weeks(?) of being stuck in a eerily cold & horrific realm, as if you were a lab rat in a cage, putting on a show for some mysterious ‘spectre’, you’ve pretty much gotten used to it.

of course, you still prayed to the Spawn every day, clinging to your faith in rough times like these. and you prayed for your partners, too- wherever they were. if they were even safe. at least they didn’t have to suffer in this place, wherever you were… could be hell, could be purgatory. you weren’t all too sure.

but it didn’t take long for things to shift and you quickly regretted ever feeling hopeful. eventually, two time ended up in the same realm as you, though something about them was off. you noticed it right away, the air of tension, the defensive glint in their eyes. they felt distant, hesitant. when you reached out for a hug, relieved to see one of your partners after convincing yourself you never would again, they flinched.

that’s fine, though. that’s absolutely okay, you told yourself. two time must be incredibly overwhelmed. confused, maybe even scared. after all, there was only one way to end up here, and it wasn’t exactly by natural fate. you didn’t pry, they didn’t want to talk about it. but when you finally mentioned your attacker fleeing and leaving you to bleed out, a small frown flickered across their face. just for a moment, you thought you saw something, some hint of emotion. you couldn’t tell if it was concern… or maybe regret?

so you brought up your second biggest concern, a bit of anxiety settling in. azure. what about azure? was he okay? at the mention of his name, two time slightly stiffened, but their eyes continue to hold that same manic look, tense as if they were holding something back.

you barely got an answer. it hurt. you needed to know. but every time you tried to learn more, two time redirected the discussion back to the Spawn, always circling back to the one thing they were utterly obsessed with. and though you wouldn’t ever say it out loud, praise be to the Spawn, you were starting to grow agitated.

eventually you ended up in a match together, forming a tiny pact to watch each other’s backs. you noticed the spectre had let them keep their dagger, though you didn’t ask why. a weapon’s a weapon, and it’s pretty useful in this case. maybe it didn’t mean anything.

you’ve already repaired a few generators, but the lack of a killer was making you increasingly anxious. where the hell were they? did taph blow them up already? where was all the usual bloodshed? something was off.

“two time? two time?” you call out, presuming they had ditched you. so much for loyalty. you even made a mental note to give them absolute hell for it later, but the sight you walked into stopped you cold.

you initially didn’t want to believe it, but you couldn’t deny it for long. it was azure, but not the one you remembered. they were different- stronger, more intense. scarier. it didn’t take long for it to click. they were the killer.

azure’s eyes look almost regretful, maybe even sad, as their hands tighten around two time’s neck, choking the other cultist on the ground. the sight hit you like a truck and left your head reeling. instinct took over and you lunged forward, trying to pull them apart. everything went all blurry for a moment. azure’s eyes widened when he saw you, filled with a conflicted emotion that didn’t match his actions. it was almost like he wasn’t in control at all.

you did successfully manage to shove them apart. two time weakly crawled away, gasping for air. azure just stood still, shaking, hands twitching.

your eyes drift over to the small wound you left on azure’s cheek while trying to save two time. slowly, he reached up to graze it. every little move was tense.

without a word, azure turned sharply and forced himself to trudge away, footsteps unsteady. you didn’t try calling out to him. he didn’t bother looking back. all you could do was stare at the empty spot where he once stood, his silence louder than any words he could’ve left.

[lolab4t]

safe together - fluff, angst

pairing: bob reynolds x thunderbolt!gn!reader summary: you’re benched with a broken ankle, stuck in the tower while the rest of the team is out on a mission. the only one left behind with you is bob. what starts as awkward company and bob acting like your nurse slowly turns into something deeper, safe, and comforting. word count: 5.8k warning(s): light thunderbolts* spoilers, angst, fluff, brief nightmare , implied trauma, mentions of the void and past trauma related to him, injury (broken ankle), mutual pining, emotional vulnerability, awkwardness, reader likes to read (lol) a/n: finally wrote for my sweet boy! yelena fic is prob coming next... i really hope you enjoy :) and if you do, please feel free to like, comment, or reblog! <3 also, requests are open!

you hated it. sitting on the sofa, wrapped up in a blanket, leg propped up on a pillow. you felt guilty for feeling so comfy. you felt lazy. like you were wasting time.

you had broken your ankle, and found yourself in a boot, unable to walk. so of course, you were forced to sit out of a mission.

bob, who was used to staying back, was clearly excited to have some company for once. he didn't admit to it, but it was obvious. the tower always felt so cold and lonely to him when the team was gone. he always tried to distract himself with books and chores, but none of it compared to having you there with him.

now, he seemed to be glued to your side, staying near you on the couch. still shy, still quiet, still careful not to hover too obviously. he didn’t say much, only asked how your pain was doing or what you needed. every now and then he'd glance over at you, like he was checking to make sure you were still okay. he was acting a little like your nurse. it was sweet.

"do you, uh… need some water or anything?" he looked at you for a only a second, before directing his gaze back to the tv. his voice was quiet and hesitant.

you looked up for your book and smiled. "no, i'm fine. thank you though, bobby."

bobby.

he originally hated the nickname when walker called him that. but when you started using it… he grew to love it. maybe he just didn't like walker.

he didn’t respond, and just gave a tiny nod, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was trying not to smile.

you adjusted your blanket again and looked back down at the book in your lap. it was your favorite, one you'd read a million times. but this time, you found yourself rereading the same lines over in your head… your thoughts kept wandering. to your ankle. to the mission the others were on. and to him. quiet, careful, sweet bob, sitting beside you like your own personal shadow.

he watched you like you were something fragile. something important. it made you feel… safe. which was ironic, considering the darkness that everyone knew was hidden inside him.

the void.

he sat there, still as ever, arms folded loosely in his lap. he glanced over at the book that seemed to be stealing all of your attention.

his voice was quiet again, cracking a little at the end. “what book, uhm— what book are you reading?”

you looked up and closed it gently, turning it to show him the cover. “it’s my favorite.”

he blinked, leaning in a little. “really?”

you nodded, watching the way he scanned the cover. he seemed interested in it. he was interested in it because you liked it.

"do you wanna borrow it?" you asked, not sure if he would want to.

his eyes lifted from the cover to your face. surprised.

"are you sure? i don't want to take it if you're reading it…" he rubbed the back of his neck shyly.

"i've read it a dozen times. take it. i think you'd like it." you smiled as he finally accepted it, holding it in his lap like it was something precious.

you don’t remember much after that. you must’ve dozed off, giving into the sense of comfort and safety you were feeling.

what you do remember is the nightmare you had. it was painful, full of the memories and wounds that had been reopened when you went into the void about a year before.

when you blinked awake, you were sitting up, sweating and panicked. the room was dimmer now. it had likely only been a few hours.

and bob was still there. he was already leaning forward, not crowding you, just close enough that you could see the worry in his face.

"you okay?" he asked gently, scanning your face for any answers.

you swallowed hard, finally catching your breath. you wanted to say yes. you wanted to pretend it was nothing.

“nightmare?” he asked before you could speak, "i get those too."

you nodded slowly. “yeah. probably the painkillers.” you let out a half-hearted chuckle.

he hesitated for a second, then reached out, lightly brushing your hand where it lay on your lap.

“can i…?”

you didn’t know what exactly he was offering but you nodded anyway. he carefully took your hand in both of his. his palms were warm. steady.

"sometimes just knowing you're not alone can help." he smiled softly.

for a moment, comfortable silence stretched between you. then he gave a small, awkward laugh, pulling away slightly.

“sorry. i’m... probably making this worse, huh?”

you shook your head, managing a tired smile. “no, it’s… nice. thanks, bobby.”

he looked down at your hands, squeezing gently. “nightmares suck.”

“yeah,” you whispered, “but having you here is making it a little less… bad.” you giggled quietly.

he glanced up, eyes soft. “i’m glad i could help.”

you took a deep breath, letting the tension ease out of your shoulders. your eye caught sight of the book, sitting behind him on the couch.

“so,” you gestured to it, trying to lighten the mood, “have you started reading it?"

he looked surprised, then grinned sheepishly, letting go of your hands to grab it. “i, uh, already finished it." he held it out to you.

you blinked in shock, taking it, "finished it?" you opened the book, flipping through the pages.

bob had left pieces of post-its on almost every page, full of handwritten notes. you stared at them in a stunned silence for a second, then let out a soft laugh. “you annotated it?” you asked, shocked... but touched.

he looked flustered, cheeks turning just a little pink. “i—yeah. sorry, i should’ve asked first. i just… i kept thinking about how you loved it so much, and i wanted to understand why… i wanted to remember what stood out. i’ll take them out if—”

“no,” you interrupted, clutching the book a little closer. “don’t. i think i love it even more now.”

he blinked, clearly surprised by your reaction. then smiled, just barely.

for the first time in a while, you both felt comfortable and safe. with each other.

thanks so much for reading <3 as always, requests are open