#and so much of myself feels completely out of reach.

[doberbutts]

With this latest round of discourse being "trans men shouldn't complain about being kicked out of women's spaces", I felt the urge to write up a relatively long post regarding the topic, as I feel it is a long tangled mess and involves a significant amount of people simply talking past each other.

To begin, what is a woman's space? I ask this, because "women's spaces" often fall under one of three categories: medical services, social services, and social gatherings. Of the three, trans men need access to nearly everything if not everything included within "medical services" and "social services". These things often need to be considered co-ed anyway, but are still considered "for women" and often are labeled things like "women's health" or "women's defense". Social gatherings- things such as book clubs, concerts, festivals, and other similar outings- can have a nuanced and complicated history when it comes to the inclusion, or exclusion, of trans men.

As an example- I am a binary, gay trans man who has not yet been sterilized. If I become pregnant and need to seek out social services, I must do so via my provider's "Women and Babies" department. I am neither of those things, and yet regardless of whether I am completing or terminating the pregnancy, I must label myself a woman in order to receive care. If I wish to have a pap smear, receive birth control, or investigate my chances of ovarian and cervical cancer, I must do so via the "Women's Health Clinic". I am not a woman, but I must label myself as one in order to discuss sterilization options. Many trans men who have had their gender markers changed prior to sterilization have reported difficulty even booking an appointment, as well as difficulty convincing their insurance to pay for this appointment due to a discrepancy with gender markers vs gendered care. Many have discussed the realities of being a pregnant man, whether they remained pregnant until their child was born, or whether they terminated said pregnancy with an abortion.

It should come as no surprise that the statistics for trans men receiving quality gynecological care are abysmal. It should be equally unsurprising to hear how many trans men have died from botched abortions, untreated miscarriages, infections and cancers of the uterus and cervix and ovaries, and complications during pregnancy or birth. We belong in this space, despite it being labeled "for women", and the only thing pushing us out has done is quite literally what's been killing us.

This is, of course, not even taking into account the numbers of trans men who have been forced to become pregnant via their husbands or families as a means to detransition them, and those who have become pregnant as a result of corrective rape. There is a saying among trans men of my age- it isn't "we all know a guy this has happened to", it's "which of us haven't experienced this? who among us doesn't fear this? who will it happen to next?"

Which brings me to my next point: women's social services. As with women's medical care, nearly everything labeled "for women" as a social service must be inclusive to trans men. Shelters for domestic violence survivors, rape crisis centers, self defense classes, family planning, these are all things that honestly should already be co-ed. But, many times, they are exclusively targeted towards women. I understand why, I do. But with trans men being statistically more likely than cis women to experience the need for these services, it seems a cruelty to close their doors to a vulnerable demographic reaching out for help.

Where should trans men in crisis go? Shutting the door to us without addressing the reason we need to access these resources gives us a single ultimatum: detransition, or die. Go back to being a woman, or die knowing the likelihood that a woman's name will adorn your headstone, and "daughter, wife, mother" will be said in your obituary. Much like the medical services, this incomplete answer has lead many trans men to their deaths. Whether by their own hands, or by their attackers'.

But there are other social services out there that perhaps are not as dire. Women's scholarships, colleges, all girls schools. Girl Scouts, women's sport leagues, gym memberships. Trans men don't need access to these, right?

Well... is the trans man in question out? Has he been living as a man, or is he still closeted? Is it safe for him to come out? Does he pass, or has he just bought his first binder and given himself his first buzz cut? Is he living under the control of his parents, or is he able to freely decide for himself the type of person he'd like to be and the type of life he'd like to live?

You see, I was a Girl Scout once. And, if we are to believe to our core that trans men are men even before they know the words "transgender", this means I was a boy in a girl's space. I didn't know that being transgender was an option for me at the point where my troop disbanded, and another leader to replace the first within my local area was not found until after I had aged out.

But also... I was in 7th grade when my troop disbanded. Two years later, I would learn the word "transgender", and suddenly everything would make sense. Two years later, I would come out to my parents and my sisters. To put this into perspective, I graduated high school in 2010. The Boy Scouts officially allowed cisgender girls and transgender people of all genders to join all programs in 2019.

I was not expelled from my Girl Scout troop. My leader simply stopped showing up to meetings, and my troop disbanded to go our separate ways when leadership could not find someone quickly enough to replace her. But... if this had not happened, I would have been a recently out transgender boy in a girl's social service, still wearing push up bras and frilly shirts because that's all my parents would buy me until I became an adult and moved out and had a job with my own money to re-purchase myself a wardrobe. Indistinguishable from any of the others, outside of what went on inside my own mind.

I would not have been accepted into the Boy Scouts, if Girl Scouts had been taken from me as abruptly as it was from a different transgender boy in the same state I was born and raised. Which would have left me with... nothing. Neither. And the only reason I even joined the Girl Scouts was because I had wanted to join the Boy Scouts and the local troop had refused to allow me, because they had labeled me a girl.

I don't believe I'm the one that coined Schrodinger's Gender, but I do reference it often. In this situation, one is both a boy when it hurts, and a girl when it hurts. Even if that gender label changes by the second, the point is to use your gender and your assigned sex to hurt you.

But then, why do these services even have to be gendered to begin with? After all, Boy Scouts just updated to be The Scouts, and has removed (on paper) the insistence on gendering.

Well... I certainly agree that the majority of gendering these services is at this point a concept that needs to be reformed, but I'm unconvinced that we will be able to completely integrate without addressing the reason they were segregated by gender in the first place.

Women's gym memberships are gender segregated for two reasons. Women and girls- and anyone labeled as women and girls, regardless of true identity- are frequently not afforded the same access to resources as cisgender men and boys. Women and girls- and anyone labeled such- are frequently at high risk of predatory sexual behavior and physical violence. Both of these problems are symptoms of a larger system of misogyny at play, and both of these problems directly affect trans men especially those who have not transitioned in a way that makes them pass for cis men.

Regardless of the truth of my identity, the reality is that I was seen as and treated as a girl when it came to physical fitness, and thus barred from the same activities freely offered to the boys. Regardless of the truth of my identity, I have experienced predatory sexual behavior from cis men as young as 8 or 9 years old, continuing past when I came out and began to transition socially.

If the problem is not addressed, cis women cannot re-integrate with cis men. But, additionally, if the problem is not addressed, the choice still remains clear for trans men. Detransition, stay closeted, or go without.

A common complaint of trans men is the invisibility and erasure our demographic faces. It should be easy to see why this happens. The problem of a misogynistic society is one that continues to this day, and without addressing the problem we cannot hope for success in creating a more inclusive space. At the same time, trans men are being pushed out and isolated as they realize they must make a choice.

As for social gatherings, such as a woman's retreat or a woman's music festival? Of course, it may sound odd to say that a trans man should feel welcome there. But the truth of the matter is the majority of the trans men asking for the ability to stay are trans men who have been within that space for years already, prior to coming out, prior to realizing some things about their genders, prior to taking their first steps as men.

I'm pretty good friends with an older butch who told me that I am the first person they ever told that they were a nonbinary man. This person is in their 50s. They're married. But the wife doesn't like it, and they love their wife too much to cause friction in the relationship, so they keep it to themselves, and they keep quiet, and they don't say anything about being transgender, but in their head they aren't a woman. This person is not a woman, by their own insistence. Should this person be forcibly ejected from their local lesbian community, which they and the wife helped form decades ago? Should they divorce their wife, since that would make her not a lesbian anymore?

What harm is it, truly, to allow this person to stay? Social isolation kills people. The trans man suicide statistics are just as abysmal as any of the others I've mentioned here. Forcing someone to burn 20, 30, 40 years of their lives and their friends and their achievements because they are finally living as themselves is a deeply hurtful and isolating experience.

The majority of trans men asking to be included in these spaces are not trans men like me- who never really jived with the idea of womanhood and distanced ourselves as much as possible the moment we saw the opportunity. They are men like my friend, often existing outside of the binary, often with a deep love and appreciation for womanhood despite realizing that perhaps the label does not fit them as well as they once thought. They often have many years of connection, entire lives spent intwined in these spaces.

What good does it do to chase them out? What harm does it to do let them stay?

[salemrph]

Sleepy morning with Sylus

A/N: While I was reading some other posts yesterday, I came across a user asking what it would be like to wake up next to Sylus. My imagination jumped on it right away! I would say this is more of a headcanon than a fanfic. I focused more how he would experience it. Short write, just because I'm working on other stuff.

Character: Sylus & Reader/MC/you

Genre: romantic, fluffy

Word count: 1,430 | Reading Time: 5 min

Background music

Your laughter echoes through his bedroom as you try to break free from his grip, his breath tickling your skin. His arms are wrapped tightly around you, pressing himself against your naked body. You smell incredible, so intoxicatingly good that waking up next to you must be heaven on earth.

You squirm and kick, already in tears from laughing so hard. He can't get enough of that sound, of the way you smile, the way you close your eyes and lean your head back. Your presence is like a flowerbed in full bloom, vibrant and breathtaking. Blooming in its full splendor.

Whenever he can, he admires you. When you sleep, he counts the moles on your body, tracing them with his fingertips. He caresses the scars you've earned as a fierce Hunter, kissing every natural fold of your skin. His touch follows the curve of your back, the delicate shape of your ass, down to your legs. The same legs that always wrap around him in the intensity of passion.

He loves you, more than he could ever show to you. It wouldn't be enough, ever.

"Sylus—"  you gasp between laughs, struggling against him as your muscles start to cramp.

"You have so much energy, kitten" you keep laughing, you are so ticklish this morning. His nose brushes against your neck before he nips at your skin, placing lazy kisses along your shoulder.

You squirm even more, still breathless from laughter. "I will pee myself... Stop!"

He hums against your skin, only tightening his hold. He isn't really awake, he wants to keep sleeping, enjoying the peaceful morning with you. Sylus has worked hard to clear his schedule, to be with you like this. To adapt to your routine, make breakfast, and simply enjoy a normal day at your side.

"Then pee..."  he teases. 

"Gross! Let go." You protest, thoroughly disgusted by his suggestion.

"Not even in dreams, sweetie" he chuckles while still kissing your shoulder.

"Sy..." you whine. That tone, the way you try to get your way putting that face, that tone in your voice. The one that makes his heart melt no matter how much he tries to resist. He growls, reluctant to release you completely. His grip tightening for a moment before he finally exhales and relaxes.

"Go. You have 2 minutes to come back". 

You waste no time jumping out of bed, only to earn a slap on your ass.

"Hey!" You spin around, shooting him a glare. Sylus only smirks.

"I like how it wiggles"

You disappear in the bathroom. Sylus shifts onto his back, crossing both arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling with a rare sense of peace. Yeah… he could get used to this. No, he wants to get used to this. The wealth he possesses and everything he has done has been nothing more than a way to ensure your safety. The years he spent searching for you taught him that he had to be prepared for anything. Losing you again was not in his plans. And if the day ever comes when you no longer love him, it won’t change a thing. He would still protect you, even from the shadows.

He’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t notice you sneaking back into bed. Carefully, you inch closer, suppressing a grin as you reach out to poke his cheek. But before you can even make contact, his hand shoots out, catching your wrist in a firm grip.

"Feeling playful this morning, my love?"

"Just a bit" you smirk. Sylus laughed.

"What do you want to play?" You tilt your head, pausing deliberately as your eyes drift over his bare chest, trailing down to his toned abs. The sheets rest low on his hips, and the way you’re looking at him doesn’t go unnoticed. He knows that look.

With effortless ease, he shifts, pulling you toward him until you land on top of his body.

His fingers brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering. The color of your lips is already beautiful, but he loves it even more when they darken after passionate kisses. His lips part slightly, his gaze locked onto yours, mesmerized by the infinite depth of your shining eyes.

You lean in, pressing tender kisses across his face before finally finding his lips. Your entire body relaxes, melting into him. Savoring the slow movement of your mouth. Heat growing in your body. Between you two. The kiss deepens bit by bit, his tongue tracing your lips, later moving beyond, slipping inside, tasting you. You sigh into him, already lost in the spreading feelings of longing.

His hand has already trapped you. One sitting on your back, the other on your ass, keeping you close. He is getting harder by the second. His need for you is growing. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips grounding you in the moment. There is no rush, no urgency. You have the complete morning and day to melt in each other.

When he finally pulls away, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath is warm against your lips. His eyes flutter shut for a moment as he exhales deeply. This is a dream, he thinks. A damn good dream. And he has no intention of waking up.

One hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing tenderly over your skin. He doesn’t need to speak; everything he feels is in the way he looks at you, in the way he holds you like you’re something precious. You cover his hand with yours, pressing your cheek into his palm. A faint smile tugs at his lips before he kisses you again.

Sylus takes his time, enjoying how your body reacts to him, the quiet gasps, the way your fingers tangle in his hair. His name escapes your lips in a breathless whisper. He watches you with a quiet intensity, taking in the way you melt under his touch. The space between you disappears, lost in the unhurried way he moves. Once more, your worlds merge, your bodies speaking a language only the two of you understand.

That's how you start the morning: with him, with you, with nothing beyond these four walls mattering. Just the warmth of his skin, the rhythm of your hearts, and the love that neither of you needs to put into words.

[thoughtfulfiction]

While We’re Young

Author’s note: Anon requested, Hope you all enjoy!

“Wait,” you said, your voice breaking the comfortable silence in the car. You twisted one of your hoodie strings around your finger, tightening your grip on it and staring at Justin as if the realization had just crashed into you. “What if they don’t like me?”

Justin glanced over, his brows furrowing before his expression softened. His hand found its place on your thigh, his thumb tracing a lazy pattern through the fabric of your leggings. You were convinced that his soothing touch could change lives. “They’re going to love you,” he said simply, as though it wasn’t even a question. “My mom’s already planning to interrogate you about your favorite foods so she can cook for you. That’s her love language.”

You wanted to believe him, but your mind was already racing. “I mean, what if they think I’m not good enough for you? Or—oh god—what if I say something stupid and embarrass myself? Bad first impressions are impossible to recover from, and if this doesn't go the way we hope…” You trailed off, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten.

At the next stoplight, Justin leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “First of all, you couldn’t embarrass yourself even if you tried. And second, I’ve seen you charm complete strangers. My family doesn’t stand a chance.”

Despite his confidence, your nerves didn’t fully settle. “Thanks, babe,” you murmured, managing a small smile. “But what am I supposed to do with the next thirteen hours? That’s so much time for me to go through worse case scenarios.”

“And to make me listen to your Sad Girl playlist,” Justin switched gears to remind you, his lips twitching into a grin.

“Oh, absolutely.” You laughed, connecting your phone to his car’s Bluetooth, taking a break from your negative self-talk. The opening chords of your favorite melancholic ballad filled the car as you leaned back in your seat.

Justin groaned dramatically but didn’t complain. Instead, he reached over to squeeze your hand, the warmth of his skin a quiet and comforting reassurance that you’d carry with you all the way to Eugene.

The fact that he was bringing you was a big deal already but to know that he’d only really done this a couple times made you feel special. Even if he didn’t really say it, he was falling for you just as much as you were falling for him.

Justin pulled you out of your thoughts when he asked, “are you hungry at all? Because I’m thinking about stopping somewhere. I’m starving.”

“Oh yeah, lunch sounds good. I think I saw a Wingstop sign towards this next exit but I can look it up.”

You opted to sit in the car and eat, giving him a long winded breakdown of what you wanted to do and see in Eugene.

“I want the works. Walk me down memory lane. And definitely take me to Nike. It honestly feels illegal not to go to a Nike store where it all started. I’m sure you’re looking to add to your endless collection anyway.” You note with a laugh. If Nike made suits, he'd definitely be first in line.

He gave you a pointed look. “It was an endless collection until I met and started dating a thief. Do you know how many of my sweatshirts I found in your closet this morning while helping you pack? I was looking for the purple one for weeks.”

You laughed so hard you nearly choked on your fries, swapping spots with him after lunch so he could take a break from driving. “Well I’m sorry! It’s not my fault your clothes are so big and they smell like you. Anytime you’re gone I just throw one on and it’s like you’re always with me.”

“Nice save…Catwoman.”

You scoff. “I prefer Robin Hood, actually. Take from the rich and give to the poor. You’re rich, so I take from you and...give to me. The poor.”

“That would work better if I didn’t get most of that stuff for free, but that is a pretty solid comparison.”

After about 8 hours of you being on aux, you decided to cut him so slack and let him take over on music as you continued to drive, mouthing the lyrics of the latest song that was playing from his phone, quickly getting lost in the rhythm.

He glanced over at you, chuckling softly, nodding his head along to the beat. “I didn’t know you were an 80s rock fan.”

“I didn’t either but you played this a few weeks ago while we were making dinner and I’ve been listening to it ever since. Hate to admit it but this is kind of a banger." You smirked, tilting your head toward him. "You know…I won’t tell anyone if you sing.”

Justin immediately starts shaking his head. “No shot. You’re not doing this to me.”

You turned up the music, singing loudly and deliberately off-key as he sighed deeply, his head dropping back against the headrest. But to your surprise, he joined in during the chorus. Both of you were screaming the lyrics to “Pour Some Sugar on Me” by Def Leppard, the car practically vibrating with your energy.

“What happens on the road trip stays on the road trip,” he said, holding out his pinky.

“Deal,” you laughed, locking your pinky with his before refocusing on the road.

A few hours later, Justin motioned for you to take the next exit. “Let’s hop out right here. I want to show you something,” he said cryptically.

The stop turned out to be a scenic lookout, the perfect place to watch the sunset with Mt. Shasta looming majestically in the distance. Justin laced his fingers with yours as the two of you walked toward the edge, stretching your legs after hours in the car.

“This is the most beautiful view I’ve ever seen,” you whispered, mesmerized by the golden and pink hues painting the sky.

Justin turned to you with a warm smile, his eyes full of something that made your stomach flutter. “Yeah… me too.”

You smacked his arm, keeping your gaze on the horizon. “Justin, focus. You’re not even looking at the scenery right now.”

“Sorry, I just got really distracted by the view in front of me. It’s kind of become my favorite.” He stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on the top of your head. His beard—something that came and went whenever he felt like it—tickled your temple, making you smile.

Turning around in his arms, you finally look up at him, the sight still stealing your breath even after all this time. His green eyes were softer in the glow of the setting sun, flickering between your eyes and lips as if he couldn’t decide where to focus.

“You’re my favorite view too,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Wouldn’t mind waking up to you for a while...the rest of my life even.”

The words hung in the air, fragile yet heavy with meaning. His brows lifted slightly, and for a moment, you worried you’d said too much. You hadn't even meant to say that last part out loud and you almost backtracked. But then, his lips curled into a small, hesitant smile, like he was processing the weight of your words.

“Really?” he asked, his voice low and steady. His hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “You—you see us doing this? Getting married, spending our lives together?”

The vulnerability in his tone made your heart ache in the best way. “Yeah, I do. Which is funny because I’ve never actually been with someone that I see a real future with.”

Justin didn’t respond immediately, but his actions spoke louder than any words ever could. His hands slid to frame your face fully, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as if memorizing every detail. He leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted to—but you didn’t.

When his lips finally met yours, it was soft and deliberate, like he was pouring everything he felt but couldn’t say into that one kiss. It wasn’t hurried or frantic; it was the kind of kiss that made the world fade away until it was just the two of you.

His hand gently cradled your head, holding you in place as if he was afraid you might slip away. You gripped the front of his hoodie, pulling him closer, your heart racing as the kiss deepened. There was something so raw, so unspoken in the way his lips moved against yours—it wasn’t just passion; it was promise. Everything you saw, this bright beautiful future together? He saw it too.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting together. He let out a shaky laugh, his hands still cradling your face. “I’ve never actually been with someone that I see a real future with either,” he admitted, his voice hoarse but filled with a quiet certainty. “Until now.”

The kiss lingered for just a moment longer, both of you savoring the connection, the sound of your heartbeat matching the rhythm of your breath. When Justin finally pulled back, there was a brief moment of silence, a quiet understanding between you. He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair, giving you a small smile before pulling away completely to open the door of the car.

“I think we’ve stalled long enough,” he said, his voice a bit rougher than usual but still carrying that calm confidence you admired. “Let’s get this over with.”

You both shared a laugh, though it felt a bit nervous on your part as the reality of the day hit. You had no idea what to expect, but you knew this was a big moment for Justin—and for you.

Justin took the keys from your hand, giving you one last reassuring squeeze before getting in the driver's seat. You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the jittery nerves you hadn’t even realized you were holding onto.

The final leg of the drive felt like it stretched on forever, even though only a few hours had passed since you were on the mountain. There was something different in the air now. The soft, quiet hum of the road felt more like a countdown to something important.

Every few minutes, Justin would glance over at you, a soft smile curling at his lips as if trying to reassure himself just as much as you. His hand eventually found itself encasing yours, his thumb making lazy circles over your skin. He wasn’t saying much, but his presence, calm and unwavering, was more than enough.

When the exit for Eugene finally appeared, you felt your pulse quicken. This was it. This was the moment.

“Here we go,” Justin murmured, his voice somehow more steady than his movements, as he guided the car off the highway and toward the familiar road leading to his childhood home.

The transition felt sudden, but not uncomfortable. It was a quiet moment of realization that everything you’d shared so far had been leading to this point. He was letting you in. You were meeting the people who mattered most to him, the ones who had shaped him into the man he was today.

As you approached the house, you could see the familiar outline of the porch, a few trees swaying in the breeze, and a small garage you guessed held memories of Justin’s childhood. The house was modest, but there was a sense of warmth and familiarity that seemed to radiate from the front door, even from the car.

Justin slowed as he approached, his hand reaching over to squeeze yours one last time before he parked the car. He looked over at you, eyes soft but serious, like he was searching for your reassurance.

“You ready?” he asked quietly, his voice laced with both excitement and nerves.

You nodded, squeezing his hand back. “Yeah. Ready.”

And with that, the two of you got out of the car and walked toward the front door of his family’s home, the journey that had brought you here feeling like both an ending and a beginning.

The door swung open before you even knocked, and there stood his mom, her arms outstretched.

She was gorgeous, her dark hair a stark contrast to Justin's much lighter features. But she wasn't interested in him at all, making a beeline for you straight away. “Oh, you’re even more beautiful than he said! I’m Holly—come in, come in!"

You barely had time to process her words before you were enveloped in a warm hug, her energy immediately putting you at ease. Over her shoulder, you spot Justin’s dad, Mark, standing on the porch with a reserved smile, and Justin’s brothers are leaning against the doorway, smirking. Justin laughed softly behind you, side stepping you and his mom. "Alright, let her breathe please? It'd be helpful if she made it through this entire night without suffocating," he jokes as his mom pulls away, rolling her eyes as she gives him a hug.

A younger guy who looks almost exactly like a mustached version of your boyfriend greets you next. "Hi, I'm Patrick. Glad Mitch wasn't lying and you are a real person, but pro tip? You're way out of this dork's league," he says with a serious face, nodding his head towards his older brother.

Justin glares at him and doesn't respond, muttering something under his breath that only Patrick catches as he bursts into a fit of laughter. You give Mitch a hug—the familiar face of Justin's older brother a welcome sight. He was a first-year orthopedic surgery resident at UCLA, the perfect situation for him and Justin to live together again. You'd been able to meet him on several occasions which proved useful in easing your nerves about meeting everyone else. “How was the drive? Are you guys staying at the ranch tonight?”

“We are,” you replied with a smile. “I’m really excited to finally see this infamous place.”

Justin’s dad steps forward, his handshake firm but warm, his eyes studying you with quiet curiosity before his face softens into a welcoming smile. “Don’t let these two scare you off. We’re happy to finally meet you. Let's head inside, I think Holly already has the baby pictures set out and ready for you to go through," he smiles, patting Justin on the back as his son shakes his head.

"You're lucky your dad talked me out of making a PowerPoint Presentation because we were seconds away from watching a pre dinner slideshow." Holly says to him with a small smile as everyone steps inside.

Patrick's voice cuts through everyone's laughter, "she's not even kidding, it was about to have music included and everything but dad saved you. I was about to give her some of the best material." He looks over at you, overenunciating for emphasis. "Two words: bowl. Cut."

"See what I have to deal with?" Justin whispers, gently pulling you into his side. Mark and Holly exchange knowing looks but don't say anything.

The house smelled of cinnamon and fresh bread, like warmth itself had settled into the walls. Framed pictures lined the hallways—some faded with time, others vibrant and new—each capturing a story of childhood adventures and hard-won victories. The fireplace crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the cozy living room. This wasn’t just a house; it was a sanctuary, a place where love was stitched into the very fabric of its foundation.

On the table in the living room is a stack of photo albums from when Justin was a newborn all the way up until his senior year of college. Countless memories were shared in these frames, a clearly busy but joyful childhood filled with love, laughter and lots of sporting events of all kinds. You could see that this family valued quality time with each other and the home you were in radiated warmth and love.

You ran your fingers lightly over the plastic covering of one album, tracing the faded marker label: Justin – Year 3. Inside, a chubby-cheeked toddler grinned back at you, his tiny facial features stretched in a mischievous but slightly forced smile.

“He never changed,” Patrick teased. “Still hates cameras.”

His words made you laugh a little because it was true, but you also saw something deeper. A boy who had grown up in a home where love wasn’t measured in trophies or contracts but in moments. The same boy who had fought to protect his private life in the face of stadium lights and national attention. You understood now—it wasn’t about secrecy. It was about keeping his people, the most important part of him, safe.

Your gaze flickered to Justin, his fingers tapping against his thigh—a telltale sign of deep thought. He wasn’t just reminiscing. He was remembering what it felt like to carry all of this, to be seen as something larger than life before he even had a chance to grow into it. And yet, here, he wasn’t the NFL quarterback. He was just...Justin.

"He was the starter by the end of that season, kind of became the hometown hero from then," Mitch sighs, sifting through some of the photos. "Things kind of got chaotic after that, with comparisons and people talking on social media."

"It was annoying," Justin cuts in, "deleted my Instagram after that. Only got it back around the draft for endorsement purposes." His words are dry, like it was painful or embarrassing thinking back to that time.

You had always respected, even admired, Justin’s need for privacy. But sitting here, surrounded by the people who had shaped him, you understood where it all came from: it wasn’t just about keeping the world out—it was about keeping his world safe. The weight of expectations, the relentless scrutiny, the unspoken pressure to be perfect—it had started young. He hadn’t chosen to be private. He had been forced to learn how to protect the things that mattered most.

And that’s what this house and his family was.

His one refuge from a world that always wanted more.

"Alright," Holly says, breaking you out of your epiphany, "who's ready to eat?"

This was a family you could definitely see yourself being a part of. Justin seemed so much more relaxed and at ease here which was a stark contrast to what you'd seen from him recently. His job was unforgiving, unrelenting. And the fans? You thanked your lucky stars daily for the fact that Justin wasn't on Twitter, especially after the Houston loss. This is where he belonged, these were his people. They didn't care about the stats or the money or everything that came with it and that's exactly how he wanted to be treated. He had a home in these people. He'd only found that comfort and peace one other time since he left Eugene.

And that was when he met you.

Dinner went on seamlessly, Mark joking asked if you two had a wedding date set after watching his son not-so-subtly check in on you throughout your stay. There were inside jokes, little moments of laughter from your relationship with Justin like how you had to adjust to his crazy hours in the facility from Monday-Wednesday but Thursdays were the days that really mattered, it was just the two of you. And sometimes Mitch and Isabella. But those were the days that brought you even closer, those little moments, just like this one that brought you so much joy it felt like you'd explode. There was easy laughter, Patrick telling some story about Justin being so private and how much he likes to keep to himself that he never thought he'd see this day. You spoke up and reassured him that you think you've successfully peeled back some layers and found your best friend in the process. Out of the corner of your eye you caught Mitch giving Patrick a nudge. Even Mark cracked a little smile, but all you could focus on was Justin's subtle smile that spoke volumes, in his own unique way. After everyone was finished with their meal, you found yourself in the kitchen with Holly, helping her plate dessert while the guys debated football in the other room.

“He’s different with you, you know.” She nodded, wiping her hands on a dish towel before leaning against the counter.

Your hands froze mid-reach. A small knot of nerves twisted in your stomach. “Different good or…?”

She smiled, her eyes soft with something unreadable. “Good. Really good.” There was a wistfulness in her expression, something unspoken lingering in the air. “You remind me of someone.”

You tilted your head, curiosity sparking. “Oh?”

“His grandma. My mom,” she said, voice quieter now, like the weight of memory had settled over her. “She was the only one who could ever get my dad to slow down. He was always moving—always thinking about the next challenge, the next goal. But with her, it was…different. She had this way of pulling him back to the present, reminding him that love isn’t measured in achievements. That life isn’t just about what you do—it’s about who you share it with.”

Her eyes met yours then, her meaning unmistakable. “Seeing you and Justin felt very similar to seeing them together again. It’s really nice to see him be with someone who helps him to reel it in a little.”

Your heart clenched, warmth blooming in your chest. You swallowed past the lump in your throat, forcing out a small laugh. “Well, he’s still a workaholic, so I might not be that good at it.”

Holly chuckled. “That’s just who he is. But I see the way he looks at you. The way he’s always checking in. You’re his home. His safe space.” She paused, and added softly, “And that’s all a mother could ever want for her son.”

You blinked back the unexpected sting of tears and watched as Holly swiped at her eyes. Before you could really process what you were doing, you were hugging her again. All the nerves and tension from earlier have completely vanished. Justin might not say much, but his actions had always spoken volumes. And now, hearing it from his mom—knowing that she saw it too—meant more than you could put into words.

The two of you walked back in with trays holding little bowls filled with apple crisp and a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top with caramel drizzle.

As Justin watched you, something settled in his chest—a feeling he hadn’t even known he was searching for. His mom was smiling at you in that way she only did when she had already decided someone was family. His dad—usually quiet, reserved—nodded along to your words like he genuinely enjoyed the conversation. His brothers, relentless as ever, had already started pulling you into their teasing.

And there you were. Sitting beside him, laughing like you belonged here. Because you did.

An hour later, after lingering goodbyes and a few last jokes, you walked side by side to his car. As Justin slid into the driver’s seat, he exhaled slow and deep. A weight he hadn’t even realized he was carrying finally lifted. Maybe it was the fear of his two worlds colliding. Maybe it was the quiet, unspoken worry that you wouldn’t fit into this part of his life.

But you did. Seamlessly. Effortlessly. Like you were always meant to.

“Well,” you said, patting his thigh with a teasing grin, “that went great. Can’t believe you were so freaked out.”

He turned to you, feigning offense before shaking his head with a laugh. The sound of it filled the car, warm and easy. You joined in, your laughter melting into his as he reached for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.

This. This is what home should feel like.

Justin leaned over, pressing a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering for just a second longer than necessary. “Told you they’d love you,” he murmured.

But as he pulled back, hand still wrapped around yours, the thought hit him like a slow-burning realization.

I think I might love you too.

[these-detestable-hands]

It's been a bit since I've interacted with octopath so my stuff on these ships may be a little rusty but I'll argue for them anyway.

Castitio (Castti x Partitio)

Before the game even came out, I thought they'd be a silly couple. Lady who doesn't remember and guy bursting at the seems with kindness. I think they're got a neat dynamic, with Castti teasing him a bit but they get along and are friends. Some post canon hcs I have are that Partitio would help Castti set up an organization that produces medicine and teaches about it cause he loves her and he's got the funding anyway. Also I do think being exposed to the poison rain twice did stuff to Castti so I like to hc she's disabled post canon, being a wheelchair user due to muscle weakness, having very little lung capacity and CPTSD. Also not a disability but she has eczema-like purple splotches on her body. Sorry I needed an excuse to quickly mention my disabled Castti headcanons. While they're engaged, Partitio and Floyd work on completely renovating a house to accommodate all of Castti's needs, so like low counters she can reach while on her wheelchair, only one floor, wide doorways, blackout curtains so she can sleep during the day, etc. Castti keeps insisting that she doesn't need that much help and that she's navigating normal houses just fine but then she'd see all the accommodations in their new house and bawl for hours. She'd work less and take it easy post canon. Listen I just think they'd be a really cute couple. Castti patches up your broken arm then her husband comes in and starts cracking jokes and talking about affordable public transportation. I feel like I'm also forgetting a lot of stuff but oh well. I've got a few fics for them posted on ao3, account name: BigOrangeOnion

Ophikari (Ophilia x Hikari) (I also call them The Radiance (hollow knight reference and it makes sense for an au))

OKAY SO this ship started out as an au when the ot1 travelers were added to ot2 for that update last year. Basically, post canon, Hikari visits the arena whenever he's in Montwise. This time, he goes and there's some omega powerful warriors fighting ruthlessly and with no concern for themselves. He realizes it's because they've got some kinda of curse, similar to him with the shadow (I THINK that's what it was called).

So Hikari starts working on figuring out how to free them because their current existence seems miserable. The first he manages to free is Ophilia, by using light magic near her. The light magic makes her briefly remember who she was but it's enough for her to snap out of the mind control that she's been put under. She talks to Hikari and explains that her and her friends were mind controlled by a very weak but not quite dead Galdera, in attempts to conquer and gain more power so he could heal himself faster. So the two of them start working on freeing the other travelers together.

Along the way, they ofc fall in love. I don't remember an awful lot about them unfortunately but I implore anyone reading this to write stuff for them :]

Here's a little drawing I did of them together. I'd include Castitio drawings if I had any but I am not big on drawing ship art unfortunately.

H'aanit x Cyrus x Castti (in a QPR!!! :3)

So this is probably the one I've explored the least purely because I never really shared it with anyone. I keep it to myself because of the amount of hyper specific and sad headcanons. But basically it was an au where I'd just mix and match travelers n stuff. Like just putting different travelers in different continents with weird team compositions cause I'm a big fan of aus and crossovers.

One of the ones I liked the most is where Castti leaves Solistia by herself to explore post canon because she's not very close with the other travelers and self isolates a little. This au starts out kinda sad cause of the focus on my hcs for various characters' mental illnesses. H'aanit is initially traveling alone but Castti joins her and they're a relatively quiet but very effective and productive duo. Later, Cyrus, Olberic, Primrose and Ophilia join. They all have their problems to work through and get through them together.

Castti has to deal with self worth and realizing that she's more than just the team healer.

H'aanit has always had anxiety around losing Z'aanta, which is really bad throughout the entire story so Castti often ends up calming her down during panic attacks and they get really close because of the mutual trust there.

Idk exactly how to describe Cyrus' problems but he's really jumpy and nervous and a little bit angry all the time because of being accused of, y' know, sleeping with a student. Yeah no I never understood why Cyrus wasn't that angry about it, even when I first played the game at age 10.

I think Cyrus is just dealing with the new found rage he constantly has. He had anger management issues as a kid but worked through them and they're just now coming back cause he's been thrown out of his home and people he used to be friends with think the worst of him and he's got no one but this new friend group he hardly knows. You get it.

The story is the three of them (and Olberic, Ophilia and Prim, but this post is about ships so I'll talk about them another time) as they deal with their mental health issues. Through helping each other with these very personal problems, they become very close and eventually decide to be in a qpr together. I think they'd just live relatively quiet lives in S'warkii cause Cyrus is too upset to return to Atlasdam and Castti isn't too keen on going back to Solistia after falling head over heels in love with two people in Osterra.

I don't remember way too much for this au unfortunately. I think they should all cuddle and finally get a good night's sleep for once cause no way a single one of those bitches sleeps well with the crap they see and have experienced.

Sorry I wrote so much. Here is a little drawing based on an Olberic chapter 2 travel banter and the most important H'aanit fact.

I miss octopath yapping with people so uh yknow what! We’re gonna play a game!!

Explain in the notes what y’all’s favorite ships are and why you like them!!!

Only rules are

1) do not explain why everyone should think your ship is canon, as that is not the point of this post 2) do not put any other ships down bc that is also not the point of this post 3) ALL games are included (yes including cotc) 4) ANY SHIPS ARE ALLOWED!!! GO NUTS!!!!

[tentacle-priestess]

Yarn Girl

NSFW

I wanted to write a something based on @lavenderlimes1 idea. So here it is, my first ever post. I hope its not too long

It was past midnight. I had lost track of time while crocheting again. I tried to put the yarn and hook away but just couldnt, the feel of the yarn was just too soft and comforting, its color so bright and nice. "Just one more row", I told myself.

When I looked at the clock again, more than an hour had passed without me noticing. Surprised,I abruptly got up, but threads of yarn had gotten tangled all over my arms and legs causing me to fall over. "WTF!"

Splayed across the floor i started working on my left arm, trying to untangle the purple strands. After some minutes I didnt seem to be making any progress, if anything I was even more tangled up. My legs somehow spread open, hanging in the mess of yarn fibers that had inexplicably become tangled up from the lamp above me.

I know I should have been irritated, maybe scared, but I wasnt. The truth is the touch of the yarn felt oddly pleasing. I trailed a finger over one of the threads around my arm, it was plush and creamy. As I kept brushing my fingers against it I had the strange sensation that the yarn shuddered beneath me.

My heart started thumping and my hands quivered as I reached out to caress the yarn across my stomach and around my thighs. I could swear the yarn caressed me in return, gliding softly against the bare skin of my thighs and arms, even lifting the hem of my shorts and slipping beneath, pulling my already low neckline down, pulling my camisole up and wrapping around my stomach and moving higher, towards by breasts.

Soon my clothes were in complete disarray and I was suspended above the floor. I no longer had much control over the position of my body. I liked it. The strands of yarn completely removed my camisole from their way, exposing the tender skin on my breasts, my nipples already peaking. They wrapped slowly around my big and bouncy boobs, the feel of their lush texture sending shivers across my skin. As those tendrils circled closer and closer towards my nipples the expectation built up inside me. I wanted to feel them and they moved excruciatingly slow.

When they finally reached them a soft moan escaped my lips and I felt the yarn shudder and coil tighter around my body. The tendrils on my nipples held them between some strands and rolled them gently, too gently, maddeningly gentle. Sparks of pleasure radiated from them across my body, a warm craving pooling in my stomach, arousal soaking my panties.

As if sensing it, the threads around my hips tugged on my shorts and underwear, trying to pull them down. I helped them, I couldnt get rid of them any sooner and neither could she, I somehow knew, it felt right to think of this yarn entity as she. And I loved that. The only problem were my shorts. She was tangled to extensively around my legs to get them off. I sighed in exasperation, and could feel her frustration too. Desperate for friction I grind my hips against her strands, the fabric of my pj was thin enough for me to get some sensation but it was not enough. Then it dawned on my. "Help me reach my crafts scissors" I said. She hesitated for a moment, I felt her get very still, did she think I would cut her? but finally did as I asked. I was careful not to cut any thread as I cut through my shorts and panties, breaking free of them. She squirmed in delight around me. I did too, twisting and wriggling to get more of her touch.

She spread my legs open exposing me to her. I could feel her mischievousness as she splayed me open, wrapping herself around my thighs, holding me firmly in place. Then teased my with the slowness of her movement towards that spot where I wanted her. Needed her.

By now my scent was filling the room, I could smell it and it made me even more aroused. My juices were dripping from me, and when a drop finally fell on her, she jolted. My heart pounded in anticipation as I felt something like hunger emanate from all over her. Yarn tendrils captured my clit and I moaned loudly at the sudden pleasure that rippled through my body. She rolled my clit between her tendrils while also rolling both my nipples between more tendrils. I whimpered at the pleasure and vulnerability of being at her mercy. I started grinding my hips again, I wanted more of her. I wanted her inside me. I could feel my juices soaking her.

She blindfolded me with a thick web of yarn and pulled my legs over my head, exposing me further. The threads in contact with the soaking opening of my vagina clinging to it as if trying to get more juice. Then they started moving inside, I could feel her desire for my juices as dozens of yarn threads plunged deep into me. The sensation wasnt like anything i'd felt before. So many strands crowded my entrance trying to enter me and the sheer volume made my walls expand open. I gasped and moaned in pleasure and surprise, she moved rhythmically inside me while rubbing my clit and playing with my nipples. Blindfolded and tied up there was not much I could do, not that I wanted to. Pleasure built up inside me filling me to the brim, just as she was filling my pussy to the brim. She tightened her grip on me and pulled my legs wider apart as if showing me the control she had over me. Than unexpectedly she started pulling my butt cheeks apart, pulling my legs closer to my head, slowly exposing the pink tender flesh around my anus. I shuddered in surprise, "what are you doing?" I asked. She just began rubbing the sensitive skin gently. A loud gasp escaped my lips. I was not expecting it to feel so good. Shocks of pleasure and desire moved through my body. I needed it. I tried to move my hips in order to get more of her touch in that sensitive zone. Then as if realizing there was another entrance into me, the yarn tendrils started entering it, fighting for entrance, plunging inside, pushing at my sphincter and opening me wider. It felt too good. I was nearing my climax as she pounded my pussy and ass, rubbed my clit and toyed with my nipples. She held me tighter in place as he pushed more and more yarn tendrils inside both my holes, I moaned and screamed in pleasure as I fell into my orgasm, and then an other.

I feel I made this too long...

[ikeupied]

NOT YOURS — sim jaeyun x fem reader.

how stupid.

When we arrived at the gym, the bleachers were still half-empty. Soobin quickly said goodbye before disappearing into the locker room, leaving Yeji and me to find a good place to sit.

Giselle and Yizhuo were already settled, chatting animatedly, and they waved us over to join them. A few minutes later, Chaeryeong arrived with Sunoo, whom I recognized from a few classes. We weren’t exactly close, but we’d always gotten along well, so conversation flowed naturally.

---

The sharp sound of the referee’s whistle signaled the start of the game, and within seconds, all our attention was on the court.

As team captain, Heeseung looked a little tense at first, analyzing the opposing team’s movements with a furrowed brow. But when Jake scored the first points with a clean, confident play, the energy of the team shifted completely. The pace intensified, and the game quickly turned into a fierce battle, with both teams refusing to give an inch.

The match continued at full intensity, every play keeping the crowd on the edge of their seats. Heeseung, now fully immersed in the game, led the team with precision, while Jake kept adding points effortlessly.

But in a moment of tension, when the opposing team tried to even the score, someone else caught my attention.

Jungwon.

I hadn’t really noticed him before, but now he was completely focused on the court. In the blink of an eye, he stole the ball with impressive speed, dodging a defender before passing it to Jake with surgical precision. Jake scored with ease.

"Did you see that?" Yeji said, amazed.

I just nodded, watching Jungwon as he calmly stepped back, as if he hadn’t done anything extraordinary. But he had. And even though I didn’t know much about him, at that moment, I felt a small spark of admiration.

The sound of the whistle marked the end of the game shortly after, and the players began to disperse.

---

The noise in the gym was slowly fading as most of the spectators left. I remained in my seat, absentmindedly playing with my hands as I waited. Yeji was still beside me, chatting with Chaeryeong and Sunoo, while Giselle and Yizhuo talked among themselves about some moment from the game.

I knew the guys would take a while to come out of the locker room, so I tried to be patient. But when I saw Jake emerge before the others, my attention locked onto him completely.

His hair was still damp from the quick shower he’d probably taken, his sports bag slung over one shoulder. His expression was relaxed, as if the game hadn’t exhausted him at all.

The moment I saw him, my first instinct was to think he was walking toward me.

He didn’t have to, but… he was the one who invited me. Wouldn’t it make sense for him to come say hi? Maybe just a simple "thanks for coming," a comment about the game—something.

I straightened slightly, feeling the beginnings of a small smile—until I realized he wasn’t coming toward me at all.

Because his destination was someone else.

A few feet away, a girl with short brown hair was waiting for him, an easy smile on her face. She was pretty, no doubt. I didn’t recognize her immediately, but that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was what happened next.

Jake reached her, and with the ease of someone who had done this many times before, he leaned in and kissed her.

It wasn’t a dramatic or exaggerated kiss. There was no show, no intent to flaunt it. Just a casual, effortless, automatic kiss.

And yet, it felt like a punch to the chest.

My stomach twisted, and the pressure in my throat became unbearable within seconds. I had no right to feel this way. I knew that. But it didn’t make it hurt any less.

I forced myself to look away, plastering on a hollow smile when Yeji said something I didn’t even process.

The minutes that followed were a blur. I don’t know how I managed to keep my composure until my brother and the others finally came out. But I did.

I made an effort not to react. I didn’t want my friends to notice, didn’t want anyone to ask if I was okay, because I knew that if someone showed me even a little bit of kindness, my mask would shatter. So I kept the conversation going, responded with small laughs and nods, even though every word felt automatic.

But my hands were cold. My chest felt hollow, my throat tight no matter how many times I swallowed. I rubbed my palms against my jeans—anything to distract myself from the heaviness in my chest.

When Yeonjun, Heeseung, and Soobin finally appeared, I focused on them, and we left.

---

The night air was cool when we stepped outside the gym, but I barely felt it.

Giselle, Yizhuo, Chaeryeong, Yeji, and Sunoo said their goodbyes, heading to the post-game party. I had already decided not to go—I wasn’t in the right state of mind for it.

Yeonjun walked beside me, chatting animatedly with Heeseung and Soobin about the game. I nodded from time to time, pretending to listen, pretending to be present.

But my mind was elsewhere.

Still stuck on the image of Jake leaning in to kiss that girl. On how easily he did it. On how, for a moment, I truly believed he was coming toward me.

How stupid.

I swallowed hard, exhaling slowly through my nose.

"Something wrong?" Yeonjun’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

I glanced at him and shook my head with a smile I hoped was convincing.

"Nothing. Just tired, that’s all."

Yeonjun watched me for a second longer than necessary, as if he wasn’t entirely convinced, but he didn’t press.

"Come on, we’re almost there."

I nodded, and we kept walking.

I kept walking as if nothing had happened.

As if I didn’t feel like something inside me had just broken a little more.

prev | m.list | next

note: this is kinda long, I'M SORRY (pls pls pls igore timestamps)

taglist (open): @ghostiiess @yunthejin @strayy-kidz @jaerisdiction @yuyita-rosier @enhamonsterghoul

© all rights reserved to ikeupied, please don't copy.

[concretejunglefm]

Poltergeists: Chapter 17.

Summary: It's been a year since your best friend Noah went missing, two years since you moved into the house you abandoned after he went missing from it during the night. This is a recount of events leading up to and what happened after the night he went missing and all of the strange events that occurred during your time living in that house.

Chapters: Masterlist

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader, Nicholas Ruffilo x Reader, possibly more BO members.

CW: Missing person, elements of supernatural horror, mentions of blood and possibly violence, unreliable narrator. will update as it goes on.

WC: 2.6k.

AN: This series will be told throughout a variety of flashbacks and present day, all which will be marked.

Divider: Silent-stories.

PRESENT DAY

(NOAH'S POV)

At some point while sitting at Bub's bedside, I fell asleep. Then, feeling a gentle touch on my shoulder, I wake up, startled, to a darkened room.

"Sorry, baby, I mean to scare you." Bubs' voice is soft, almost hoarse, as she stands beside me, her hand on my shoulder.

"No, no. I'm sorry. How long have I been asleep?" I raise a hand to rub my tired eyes and stretch out my limbs before turning my head towards the bed when I realize she was out of it and beside me.

"What are you doing up?" I ask before feeling her hand move to my cheek, gently guiding my head back in her direction beside me.

"I wanted to go for a walk." she explains.

Her hand feels cold, and I raise my own to gently cup her hand in mine. "You're freezing." I murmur and bring her hand to my mouth, pressing soft kisses against the back of it.

"Yeah, it's a bit chilly in here." she laughs softly, and my tired eyes flutter up to her face, taking in the comforting sight of her in the dim light.

It takes me a moment to realize that she was wearing clothes instead of the standard hospital nightgown she had been in when she woke up. Nick must have dropped by when I was sleeping and left some fresh clothes for her.

"You should get back into bed—"

"Can we go for a night drive? Like we used to?" she interrupts, her hand moving back to my cheek, fingers stretching up towards my hair as they gently caress through the strands. 

It feels comforting to have her this close again, and I close my eyes, holding onto the warm sensation that erupts in my chest.

I missed her so much.

"Yeah." I nod and open my eyes with a soft smile. "Of course, we can."

She reaches for my hand, helping me to pull myself up from the chair. As I unfold completely, I stretch with a loud groan.

Instantly, her arms wrap around my waist, and she pulls herself into me, her face nestling against my chest.

It's the first moment we've had to fully embrace one another since I had returned from wherever I had been and she had woken.

My arms fall and curl around her, tucking her firmly against me as I drop my head to nuzzle against her crown.

I wish I could freeze time and hold onto this moment, hold onto her.

"Come on, let's sneak you out of here." I whisper against the top of her head as we untangle ourselves from each other. My hand finds hers and entwines our fingers.

My remark is met with a giggle, and I can't help but miss the sound of her laugh—the sound of her as a whole. Even if I had been spending my time with a fake version of her, nothing could compare to the real her. Every sound with them had felt less human the longer it went on.

A shiver runs down my spine, and I do my best to shake off the memories that feel more like a bad dream than my reality for the past year.

"Careful, I think Nurse Ratched is on tonight." she remarks with a playful grin, pulling me from the room.

The hospital is quieter during the midnight hours. The bright fluorescents are dimmed, casting a softer glow. A gentle humming emanates from them, accompanying us as we walk down the corridors until we reach the lift that takes us to the ground floor.

There's no need for us to be sneaky, but we both make a game of sneaking past the security guard's desk, tiptoeing past him each time he turns away from the main waiting area.

Once outside, she bursts into laughter, and I can't help but grin as I watch her sprint across the half-empty car park towards her car. 

Slipping a hand into my jacket pocket, I feel her familiar set of keys—keys that hadn't been there before. I dismiss it as another thing Nick probably did. Pulling them from my pocket, I click the lock button and watch her jerk open the door, climb into her rightful place next to me in the passenger seat.

"So, where to, bubs?" I ask as I climb into the driver's seat. When I look over to her, she's already pulled my hoodie from the backseat and draped it around herself, tucking herself in. A smile tugs at the corners of my lips, a reminder that my bubs is here with me.

"You know what I'm craving?" she starts, and I respond in unison.

"A milkshake."

It makes her laugh, and I yearn to capture that sound. I crave to listen to it repeatedly, along with her voice and every soft sound she makes.

I never realized how much I could miss until she was gone. The subtleties, like the crease on her forehead when she's deep in thought, or her tongue poking out when she's focused, or the soft little snort she makes when she laughs, all thanks to me. I missed everything. I missed her.

I hold her gaze, my hand reaching out to gently push a stray hair behind her ear before I lean across from the driver's seat and press my forehead against hers.

The urge to pull her into a kiss is strong, but I feel the gentle touch of her hand on my chest, as if she's resisting the same impulse, yet deliberately keeping me at a distance. "I missed you." I whisper, my nose brushing lightly against hers.

"I missed you too." she breathes back, and I can sense the warmth of her breath.

Kissing her could be so effortless, so natural, but I can sense her hesitation in accepting too much from me too soon. Perhaps it's due to everything she shared with me about what transpired during our separation, or maybe it's because she's concerned about what Nicholas might have revealed to me. I'm willing to wait for her pace. All I need is to be reunited with her, for it to finally feel like everything is falling back into place, as it should be.

Reluctantly pulling away, I move my hand to the back of her head, my fingers gently threading through her hair with a soothing scratching sensation against her scalp. She instantly relaxes beneath my touch, and as she rests her head back in my hand, she turns and looks at me, her eyes softened in a way that makes my heart skip a beat.

"Milkshakes?" she finally breaks the comfortable silence that fell between us, and I nod, quietly chuckling as I untangle my fingers from her hair.

Starting the car, I pull out of the hospital parking lot, navigating through the familiar streets despite a year of being hidden away from this place.

A gnawing sensation at the back of my mind urges me to ask her questions about everything, to seek understanding, but as she takes my hand, the one closest to hers, into hers, all thoughts of asking are silenced. They can wait. Right now, all that matters is focusing on finally being back with her.

It feels reminiscent of our high school days, when we'd sneak out and drive around, talking about anything or nothing, and sharing milkshakes.

As we cruise through the familiar streets, recounting various stories, she leans over to share the strawberry milkshake's straw and I smile as she gently kisses my cheek before her hand ascends towards my hair. It's longer now, having grown during my absence, and my head briefly turns, glancing at her. "Do you like it?"

Her fingers gently stroke through it, as if contemplating it. My usual wolf cut is now grown out, but I don't mind. Seeing her smile and nod makes my stomach flutter. It's so teenager-like to care about a crush's or partner's opinion on your appearance, features, or even something as personal as hair. But she always had a way of making me feel like a teenager in her presence, even as we approached adulthood.

"I do." Her fingers wrap around the ends, playfully tugging, and she leans closer, resting her head against my shoulder.

I turn my head, pressing a kiss to her crown and resting my cheek against the top of her head. My eyes focus on the road, but I don't need directions; it feels like muscle memory. Our drives always lead us back to our spot by the lake.

It's too dark and late for a hike through the trees to the lake, so we settle in the dirt parking area, gazing out the window at the stars twinkling above.

The mixtape CD I made for her back in high school softly plays on the player, and she hums along. If I close my eyes, it feels like we're those two teenagers, dancing around our crushes. Now, when I open my eyes, I have everything I could have ever wanted—her. 

We continue our time tucked away together in our little corner of the world until sunrise, then take the scenic route back into town.

It's been a while since things felt this normal, where driving her around hadn't been just a way to help her sleep during her restless nights after nightmares plagued her. She'd always resist sleep during these periods, afraid of what lurked in the shadows during her most vulnerable hours.

For the first time, she looks peaceful.

The passenger-side window is rolled down, and the cool morning breeze caresses her face and hair, bringing a smile to her lips.

As we reach Main Street, I pull up to the curbside outside the tattoo shop. It's still early, but I can see through the main window that the lights are on, indicating someone's inside.

"Would you like to come in and say hi?" I ask, glancing over at her. However, she retreats and shakes her head, her eyes momentarily heavy with sleep.

"Perhaps later?" She suggests.

I nod and lean over to press a tender kiss against her forehead. "I'll only be a moment." I promise before climbing out of the car and crossing towards the shop, entering.

There's no Nick, but there are Jolly and Matt, who I learn offered to come in and tidy up some last minute things for Nick.

"We heard about Bubs." Jolly says, his hand slapping down on my shoulder with a comforting squeeze.

"Yeah, we were considering visiting the hospital later if that's okay?" Matt asks.

"Actually." I can barely contain my excitement. I glance back over my shoulder, out of the front window, and to the car where I can see Bubs curled up against the passenger-side door, her eyes closed as she rests her head against her hand, still covered by my hoodie. She at least seems comfortable.

I decide not to share the news that she's out there, even though I'm torn between wanting to and not wanting to cause any distress to her.

"I think she'd really appreciate it." I say, nodding in agreement. I know they would've all missed her as much as I did.

For a moment, as my eyes move over to Matt, I'm reminded of what she told me happened. There's a slight flicker of irritation, but it quickly fades away. I can't be entirely mad at him, at least not based on Bubs' explanation.

Nicholas was another matter entirely. I feel conflicted when I consider him, but I still feel like I'm missing the full story.

"I'll head off. I just wanted to drop by and see who was here." I say, taking a step back and raising my hand in a wave before turning back towards the door and slipping out of the shop.

Climbing back into the car, I look over to Bubs as she lifts her head and glances over at me.

"Where to now?" I ask.

"Anywhere but home." she replies, her voice soft and quieter. I reach over to her, my fingers slipping between hers. Despite our different hand sizes, hers always fits perfectly with mine, as if we were two pieces of a puzzle.

Home wasn't the same anymore, and possibly hadn't been for a long time. Between what I heard from her in the dream area we reunited in and what Nicholas had told me, at least, I knew it wasn't.

I nod when I pull my hand back. "I know just where."

From what I've been told, she's been staying at Nicholas' place. While the actual details of what transpired between them continue to confuse me if I dwell on them for too long, I know it would've been the only place she'd want to go, at least with me.

Before we moved and before everything happened, the three of us lived together happily. Part of me hopes that we can go back to that, but I also wonder if things would ever be the same between us after this.

When we reach Nicholas, she swiftly climbs out, bringing my hoodie with her as she walks around to greet me. A radiant smile adorns her face, causing my heart to swell with joy. I stand still before her as she lifts my hoodie, draping it over my shoulders and using the arms to pull me down closer.

Suddenly, my chest races as she leans up and kisses me. My hands instinctively move to her waist, both to pull her closer and steady myself. 

The moment our lips finally meet, it's like fireworks explode behind my eyes. I've kissed her countless times before, but the absence of her that had left an aching void in my heart is swiftly filled as our mouths touch. 

She lingers for a moment, holding me close to her as her hands release the arms of my hoodie and her arms wrap around my neck. It's so easy to become enthralled in her embrace, and I do, a hand ascending onto the back of her neck as I deepen the kiss.

"I've been waiting to do this all night." I confess under my breath, a soft chuckle escaping my lips as our lips finally part.

"I know." She whispers, her forehead pressing against mine as I remain leaning down to meet her.

I don't care about the awkward positioning or the strain it puts on my neck; all that matters is being close to her once again.

When we finally pull apart, I grasp her hand in mine and lead us up the pathway towards Nick's house. The front door is already unlocked as I reach for the handle and turn it.

The moment I push open the door and step over the threshold, my fingers slip from Bubs's hand, and my eyes fall upon Nick, standing in the middle of the living room, a sullen expression on his face.

"Nick? What is it?" I ask, as his head turns to look at me. "What's wrong?"

"It's Bubs…" He struggles to find the words. "She passed away last night."

I open my mouth to protest, but no words come out. I shake my head, wanting to tell him he's wrong, she's right here. However, when I glance over to the still-open front door, I find that she's no longer standing there, as if she's vanished into thin air.

The only memory I have of her being with me throughout this entire time is the faint scent of her lingering on my hoodie, still draped over my shoulders.

My eyes remain fixed on the open door, now bare of her presence. I struggle to comprehend the idea that she's gone.

I can hear Nick's voice as he approaches me, feeling his hand on my shoulder as a comforting gesture, but his words are so distant that I barely manage to catch them.

"They said she never woke up." 

Tagged: @enemiestolovershoe, @fadingangelwisp, @geminigirlfromfinland, @littlepeachwhispers, @concreteangel92, @deathblacksmoke, @1toreyouapart, @lacy1986, @chaoticwineaunt, @ichoosetenderomens, @chey-h, @baddestomens, @blade-dressed-in-red, @halfalgorithmhafdeity, @geminigirlfromfinland, @fuck1ng-queen, @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard, @xxkittenkissesxx (if anyone else wishes to be tagged lmk)

[official-natasha-romanova]

APOLOGY NOTE

//mod here

Firstly I’d like to apologise to @the-good-redheaded-witch. I was a mean, homophobic bitch. I’m sorry for being rude to you. I didn’t understand properly. Now, I understand lgbtq+ better since I have someone teaching me about it. I worded that post wrong. I’m not against lgbtq+. I’m neutral about it. But if you support it, that won’t make me hate you or try to make you change. You were my first proper friend and I’ll never forget how you made me feel welcome. I understand if you hate me. But I just want you to know I’ll support you no matter what. Even if you don’t talk to me I’ll still support you. My deepest and most profuse apologies. Secondly I’d like to apologise to @crazyinlovewithmarvel. I’m sorry for misunderstanding the lgbt+ community. I’m also sorry for only seeing black and white. I realise I sounded like a complete jerk. The lgbtq+ community are going through enough. I don’t want to add to it. I don’t hate the lgbtq+. I just don’t see myself as part of it. But I will support you-wether you like it or not- no matter what. I don’t care if you’re lesbian, gay, bisexual or whatever you are. I. Don’t. Care. I want to support you anyway. I understand I made you uncomfortable. You don’t have to forgive me (though it wouldn’t be bad to). I’m sorry.

I’d also like to apologise to the whole lgbtq+ community. Anyone who is lgbtq+, and you’re struggling, I don’t mind if you reach out. If anyone needs to vent, come to me. I don’t care how much you swear or rant. I’ll listen. The lgbtq+ community is going through a lot, especially since Trump is getting rid of all those laws. So please. Reach out if you need to. I have a much more open mind than I did before. And if anyone wants to help me learn about the lgbtq+, they are welcome to do so.

Also thank you for helping me understand the lgbtq+ better @multifandomer537. I hope you can keep teaching me to understand it better.

[kirby-the-gorb]

[loisfreakinglane]

the cangel crumbs i got in buffy season 2 just made me more in love with them than i've been in a long time. LOOK AT THOSE TWO. THEY DON'T EVEN KNOW THEY'RE GONNA BE BEST FRIENDS THEY DON'T EVEN KNOW THEY'RE GONNA FALL IN LOVE THEY DON'T EVEN KNOW THEY'RE GONNA CHANGE EACH OTHERS LIVES FOR THE BETTER

[icewindandboringhorror]

recent things and such~

[puppppppppy]

who up seeing their disorder in a fictional character but feel like its not their place to put a name on it

[kizzington]

Not aiming this at anyone specifically, but I’m genuinely so disappointed & annoyed at the fact no one in my real life circles bothered to reach out to me to check up on me regarding the recent Liam Payne/One Direction news.

[elfsyellowflowerzart]

oooh blast from the past, i drew this of omalia and torelai in 2019... its wild how much my art has changed...

[foolishfalls]

having a bad time

[saeshiraw]

tired girl hours i’m just ranting bcos i don’t have enough time to cry