#but also i need it in writing instead of in my head

[muffinlance]

Some spirit manages to get the gaang and zuko a link that connects their minds. They can share thoughts and their past with each other.

Tweaking this to “and they share dreams” because that’s how I started writing it.

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, wrapping his sleeping bag around himself, and grabbing a comfort Momo, too. “Whose dream was that?”

No one ‘fesses up. But it was kind of a rude question, and also a little rhetorical, anyway.

They all have nightmares with fire.

Having the Fire Lord himself looming over them, while they were on their knees? Not exactly a stretch.

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, “how does Prince Jerkface keep finding us?”

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, “how did he know that seal jerky seasoned just right with honey—not too much, just enough to add a sparkle of sweetness to the depths of savoriness, a perfect balance for the distinguished tongue to relish—was the perfect bait for his Sokka and Sokka-affliated-parties trap?”

“Maybe if you stop dreaming about it, Sokka,” Katara snaps.

...And they all stop.

---

“I’m going to think really really hard about being friends,” Aang says.

“I’m going to think really really hard about that time my boomerang hit him,” says Sokka.

---

Snatching the boomerang out of midair? Impressive.

Ignoring the Avatar to go hit Sokka with it? Repeatedly? Uncalled for.

---

“Sokka. The city is under attack. Right now.”

“Okay,” Sokka says. “But this is a strategic nap, Katara. We need to know what evil things our Evil Other is up to.”

It’s not like the evil fleet part was a surprise, at least. They’ve been dreaming of it for weeks.

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, looking down. “So the ship-blowing-up-thing. Not a nightmare?”

“No,” says Zuko, glaring up with his glare-face all glare-ful but his thoughts mostly full of bruises so deep they’re making Sokka’s ribs ache, and also his legs are going numb.

“Going to get out of the turtle-seal tunnel now?” Sokka asks, still standing over the opening. With his boomerang.

“...No,” the Prince of the Fire Nation says, as he clings onto the edge of the hole, his legs still very much in freezing water.

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, when they have a Fire Prince all tied up in Blankets of Imprisonment. “So. What actually was your plan here? Do not,” he interrupts, before the teenage-shaped bloodhound-leech can do more than open his mouth, “say ‘capture the Avatar.’”

The prince closes his mouth. Glares. And kind of fuzzes at the edges, in the way all of them do when they’re about to fall asleep.

BOOMERANG, Sokka thinks, and Prince Largely Ineffective As An Enemy jerks back upright. His Momo hat chitters a complaint.

“Since we both know your answer is ‘I had no plan, Sokka, ‘plan’ starts with ‘p’ and there’s no ‘p’ in ‘Avatar’’, we’re going to play a game instead. It’s called ‘sleepy prince free association interrogation time.’”

“...What?”

“Battle plans,” Sokka says. “Attack. Fire Navy fleet. Ship numbers.”

Alas, “Fire Nation intelligence” is not something with which the prince’s brain is overly burdened.

“...Are you insulting me?”

“Are you proving my point?”

Elsewhere, Yue laughs in all their heads. Zuko flinches. The prince has a very marked reaction to the laughter of princesses.

---

“Okay,” says Sokka. “So that just happened.”

Commander Mutton Chops is groaning. Kind of flopping. Much like the bag he tried to fireball. Yue picks it up, and gently wrangles a fish back into water. Sokka is still not clear on what the fish-napping was about.

“It’s the Moon,” Aang says. “Or maybe the Ocean?”

Aang’s thoughts are full of a FACE STEALING EVIL CENTIPEDE MONSTER THAT IS JUST ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE THIN VEIL OF REALITY and that is NOT helping Sokka think.

“Okay,” he says again. “So. At least we can all agree on one thing.”

This is a very diplomatic way of saying they all wanted to dropkick Zhao. But some of them wanted to do it more than others.

The prince of the Fire Nation is even paler than normal, and staring across the clearing at his uncle.

“I can explain,” the prince says, while he’s thinking, oh shit treason oh crap uncle wouldn’t hurt me thought that about father too

Sokka wordlessly plucks Momo from the edge of the pond, where he’s been swiping at the spirit-fish, and drops him on the prince’s head.

Everyone needs a comfort Momo, now and again.

---

“A raft, Zuko?” Sokka says. Outloud. Because it makes things louder when you say it and think it. “A raft?”

Aang is bouncing on his toes. “We should go get him.”

The Avatar is grinning. And thinking, really hard and deliberately, as behind them the Water Tribe ship finishes packing, We should capture the Fire Prince.

“Okay,” Sokka says, with a grin of his own.

[emptymanuscript]

I admit I'm on the fence about AI in general... well, on the I have never used it and am not sure if I ever should but I've got the deep fear of missing out side.

But in the context of learning, it strikes me as falling in the same landscape as a calculator or Excel. I use a calculator or (actually more commonly) Excel to do any math because I'm not particularly good at math and never really have been.

BUT

When I was growing up, you did NOT get to use a calculator until you knew how to calculate. This was not a thing to make us suffer or just make life more difficult.

I also had stupid tests where I had to solve 100 math problems in 3 minutes, and I'm not about to argue that was good for me, helped me, or should be inflicted on subsequent generations.

I had to learn how to calculate BECAUSE of the above. If YOU don't know how to calculate, then it is impossible to tell if the calculator gave you the correct answer or not.

Back when I used to post to r/excel, I used to get flack for not showing the "EFFICIENT" way to solve problems but instead would show things step by step. But this is the same thing. If you do things in a big complicated group, you either get the right answer or the wrong answer. If you do things step by step you can CHECK your answer step by step and see if they make sense.

Do I need to know how to do 87^2 in my head in 30 seconds or less? No. I really don't. But I do need to know what is going on and why it is happening.

87^2 = 7,569 is great for a calculator to do. The calculator absolutely can do it faster than most people can. But if I just plug in 87^2 and get 689, how do I verify it? How do I check? Can I even realize, hmmm, that doesn't look quite right. Are my functions all right?

Knowing what is going on is the insurance for that. I can probably catch that, oh, I was trying to use a clever trick and forgot some steps.

The answer isn't all that is important.

And yes, it absolutely can make you dumber. Like I got to hear a discussion between two lecturers I really liked. And one just went off on a tangent and the other was clearly wondering why the hell she was there, this isn't science. BUT because I knew the details of how they were both dealing with the basic problem they were talking about - current science not being able to successfully predict certain phenomenon without numbers to fudge the situation that represent things that can't be proven independently of the need to fudge the numbers - I was able to follow the miscommunication while they, themselves, could not. His tangent made perfect sense in the context of his field of interest and made zero sense in hers. And if all you have the answers with no information of how you got to them, there's zero way to connect "I think the Sun might be conscious" and "I think half of the standard model is based on incorrect assumptions." They were in fact talking about the same things and differing solutions but there's no way to align that without talking about the assumptions, which needs to be laid out in order to UNDERSTAND the answer.

And struggling with my FOMO on writing, there's the basic truth that the reason I fear like I'm missing out is in part because I AM an expert. I have a graduate degree in TEACHING creative writing. I know my shit. So if I ask ChatGPT or whatever to spit out a scene for me, I not only can tell if it is good or bad, I can explain WHY it is good or bad and what needs to be done to improve it. I have zero fear of amateurs asking ChatGPT to spit out a novel for them and getting a novel of quality that I will be competing with. I am scared of people with enough knowledge of how writing works and knowledge of how ChatGPT creating the equivalent situation of me doing long division on paper while they're plugging the equations into a calculator.

A calculator, used as a tool, by someone who understands what they're doing, can do calculations faster and with less errors than someone who also understands what they're doing but isn't using a calculator. But it's not the difference of one being able to do it and another not. It's a difference of speed and accuracy.

It's an entirely different set up when it's someone who understands what they're doing versus someone who doesn't. You can give someone who doesn't know what they're doing all the tools in the world and it will still take them longer and produce an inferior product because they can't understand what they're doing.

And that's the basic problem with using ChatGPT for education. Yes, it can give you an answer. But because you don't know how, you simply have to trust that it is the correct answer. With no way to double check, no way to gauge, and no way to adjust the workflow to better suit your needs.

It absolutely is shooting themselves in the foot. Because school is the point where access to help with process and WHY things work the way to do is easiest to get. It does simply get harder to find the farther away from educational opportunities you get. And when you need it to work isn't the best time to be trying to figure out what you're really doing instead of already having that education and skill under your belt.

It's also relying on the fatal assumption that tomorrow is going to look like yesterday. My earliest datable memory is June 1st 1982. The world is so profoundly different in February 13th 2025, that I am very comfortable promising you that the idea that you can depend on the world looking the same for your entire life WILL get you into trouble because that's simply not the way the world works. Certainly not now. The assumption that it is safe to use ChatGPT now because you will always be able to use ChatGPT is a set up for failure. Will there always be tools? Yes. Will you know how to get future tools to work the same way as ChatGPT? Probably not. I grew up using Dos and then Window's machines. These days, the programs are so different, I find it easier to use a Mac instead of learning the new way that Windows does things.

If you rely on a particular tool solving a problem for you in a way you don't understand beyond that tool giving you the answer, you will be relearning the tool every large iteration. And eventually it will be different enough that it will set you back. That you will essentially be starting from nearly scratch. And then what? If you don't know what kind of answer you should get, how are you going to know if you're using that new tool correctly because some engineer decided that it is more efficient to move in a different direction?

Even novels have changed over the course of my life. Every book I've read that was published in the last 15 years breaks fundamental rules I was taught back in the early 90's. The conventions that I would have insisted that ChatGPT follow have changed. But if I didn't know WHY those conventions existed how would I even know? How would I adjust? Why would it even occur to me that I needed to adjust? ChatGPT sure doesn't know.

That's probably fine if it's just something you're doing for fun.

But if it is your job? Getting things wrong can be the difference between keeping that job and going hungry. It is not a good idea to be utterly dependent on your tools. Tools are to make what you're doing easier, not to do the task for you all together.

Yeah, just don't. The grades are not as important as what you will be able to do (or not be able to do) later in life. And sometimes that later can be a LOT sooner than you anticipate. I watched a LOT of people wash out or nearly wash out of college because they didn't know the whys and hows of what they were doing academically. I saw straight A students flunk out because they just learned the cheat or because their schools were crap and only taught one way to do things or taught nothing at all and just let the cards fall. I had a good friend who came in with a 4.2 GPA and nearly flunk out because she wasn't taught basic skills I had gotten in middle school.

Which was intentional.

Because she was black and poor and I wasn't.

Her schooling was designed to fail her because the best way to make sure someone as smart as her STAYED black and poor was to let her fly without ever teaching her the skills to do better when she needed to. And she was damned smart. And she worked damned hard. And she pulled through and got a master's before I did. But she was in the extreme minority and had a lot of help and still slid through by the skin of her teeth. Most people in her position crashed and burned and ended up WORSE off than they started. Which is great for the powers that be because it makes them a demonstration of why you shouldn't even try. It shows that society is stacked against you. Because it is. Because it is designed to fail.

Understand that ChatGPT is the same set up. It will make things easier. For now. It will give you the answers. It will work. Until it hits the level it can't anymore. And that WILL happen. It is inevitable. And then you have no supports and you ARE going to crash and burn.

There is a reason that ChatGPT is cheap and being forced on everyone. It is controlled by the people who are being served by the current societal structure.

Are you being served? Are you sure? Because if there is ANYTHING about you they can benefit by crushing, washing you out, setting you out to sacrifice, they're going to do it. Anything that is free in our society is a tool to make YOU the product. And they're damn good at doing it. So think long and hard about using that tool when they have so much history and investment in making you crap out for their benefit. Don't rely on them to save you.

I just started grad school this fall after a few years away from school and man I did not realize how dire the AI/LLM situation is in universities now. In the past few weeks:

I chatted with a classmate about how it was going to be a tight timeline on a project for a programming class. He responded "Yeah, at least if we run short on time, we can just ask chatGPT to finish it for us"

One of my professors pulled up chatGPT on the screen to show us how it can sometimes do our homework problems for us and showed how she thanks it after asking it questions "in case it takes over some day."

I asked one of my TAs in a math class to explain how a piece of code he had written worked in an assignment. He looked at it for about 15 seconds then went "I don't know, ask chatGPT"

A student in my math group insisted he was right on an answer to a problem. When I asked where he got that info, he sent me a screenshot of Google gemini giving just blatantly wrong info. He still insisted he was right when I pointed this out and refused to click into any of the actual web pages.

A different student in my math class told me he pays $20 per month for the "computational" version of chatGPT, which he uses for all of his classes and PhD research. The computational version is worth it, he says, because it is wrong "less often". He uses chatGPT for all his homework and can't figure out why he's struggling on exams.

There's a lot more, but it's really making me feel crazy. Even if it was right 100% of the time, why are you paying thousands of dollars to go to school and learn if you're just going to plug everything into a computer whenever you're asked to think??

[noodlemoondle]

Promise Me You Won’t Cry Anymore

Zayne x Reader

word count: 800

summary: just a lil blurb about how Zayne reacts to accidentally making you cry

tags: not proof read!!, hurt/comfort, fluff, mentions of medicine. just zayne being a worried doctor really

authors note: hello again guys! ੭ ᐕ)੭*⁾⁾ I fully wrote this on a whim rn in like 10 minutes so pls take that into account lolol. (also it’s another hurt/comfort lolol it’s my fav tag and i don’t have any ideas for anything else) i also wanted this to be like a rlly short blurb but i think im genuinely unable to write anything that isn’t like around 1k words (´；ω；｀) i don’t really have anything else to say besides i hope i get motivation to write one of the million fic ideas i have saved in my notes soon.

as always hope you enjoy!! ✧*。٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و✧*。

Zayne is a strong man. Emotionally strong that is. The countless years he spent both studying and working in the medical field gave him thick skin and it made it difficult for things to truly get to him. It takes a lot for something to hit him in the heart and truly bring him down.

However, the one thing he absolutely can’t stand is you crying. Something about it he doesn’t truly know what. Something about the way your eyes tilt downwards with your head soon following, the small tremble of your lips he knows you’re fighting to keep still, the tear-glazed distant look in your eyes that just shows how hard you’re fighting back tears, nothing breaks his heart more.

Zayne knows, he knows he can be oh so overbearing when it comes to your health and safety, but god he can’t help it. Nothing worries him more than your, in his opinion fragile, wellbeing. Everyday on his drive to the hospital he prays to whatever god is out there that will listen to him that he won’t see you during his shift, at least not you being wheeled in through the back doors, completely unconscious on a gurney. He can’t even handle the thought of it.

It leads to his constant nagging over you. His constant worry. His constant lectures and scoldings whenever you even slightly overlook your health.

Which led to here. Another conversation that began as an overbearing reminder to take your medicine, only for Zayne to quickly discover you haven’t been taking recently. You’ve already had a tiring and stressful day and didn’t have any energy to fight back at him. So instead, you just stood there in front of him. Only looking at him as he continued his scolding on how important it was to take your medicine, why you need it, and never forgetting to remind you of just how fragile you truly are.

All you could do was look back at him, and just take everything he had to say without a fight. Not like you had the energy to speak anyways. To be honest, you didn’t even have the energy to think, or to even listen to him in that matter. All you really heard is just his upset voice, saying what?You’re not really sure, but his tone was enough to make you feel inferior.

Zayne didn’t notice. He honestly couldn’t. He was too caught up in his worries and imagination of what could possibly happen to you to be able to properly see you, but in the middle of his rant he did. He saw the look on your face that absolutely breaks his heart and makes him want to fall to his knees. He saw your head hung low, you fighting your trembling bottom lip, your downcast, distant eyes, that had tears in the brink of flowing through your pretty eyelashes and falling onto those darling cheeks he loves; especially when he sees them rise and round out whenever you smile.

And when he sees it, he stops. Instantly.

There is a quick moment of silence where he hesitates. Where he hears your uneven, haggard breathing and mentally scolds himself, grimacing at his actions.

He takes a few steps over to you and leans down to hold your face in his hands. Lifting it up so he can see you properly, however your eyes don’t follow and remain locked onto your fuzzy-socked feet. His gentle hold, contrasting his previous tone made it so difficult to keep it together. Just as he noticed a tear welling up to fall from your eyes he gently kisses it away before it could reach any further than the corner of your eye.

He softly rubs the apple of your cheek trying to coax you to bring your eyes up to him.

“Look at me… Please?” Zayne says ever so gently.

You knew if you did you wouldn’t be able to hold back your tears anymore, but the soft rub of his thumb brings your eyes up to look back at him. The moment you do, his eyes soften in guilt and regret, a slight frown forming on his lips when he sees your eyes welling up with more tears.

He slightly stands up, just enough to place a soft, delicate kiss on your forehead as he whispers against it.

“I’m sorry.”

Then you can’t hold it anymore. A soft gasp for air leaves your lips as tears begin to flow from your eyes. Zayne slowly pulls you into his chest, holding your head and running his fingers up and down your back in an effort to comfort you. In an effort to get you to forgive him. In an effort to get you to stop.

Guilt spreads throughout his whole body as he listens to your sobs and feels your tears wetting his shirt. He whispers apologies to you, offering soft kisses on the top of your head in between each one.

He’ll make it up to you. He doesn’t know exactly how yet, but he will. He’ll do anything. Whatever it takes to stop the flow of tears and broken sobs. Whatever it takes to see those darling, rosy cheeks rise up with the sweetest, brightest smile he’s ever seen. He’d do it in a heartbeat; because there is nothing, nothing Dr. Zayne can’t stand more than you crying.

[bombiikki]

𐙚⋆.˚　────  heart shaped box °｡⋆⸜

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ – non idol!danielle x fem!reader !!

synopsis: you’ve been yearning for danielle for years, and you’re never quite sure if she likes you too. you decided to gift her a box of chocolate-dipped strawberries for valentines, only to give it to her at the very end of the day and run off.

contains: fluff, dany/n just being homos, haerin the matchmaker/homo hater (depedns on how u perceive it), NOT PROOFREAD I REPEAT NOT PROOFREAD, the start is lwk ass from what i rememebr

a/n: after a whole lotta procrastination its here!! happy balentines day guys 😋😋 i also listedn to falling behind by laufey on repeat while writing this cuz i love luafey and i unforutnatley am falling behind

you sat down on an empty field. it was lunchtime by then, but you didn’t feel hungry enough to go to the cafeteria. instead, you took in the sunlight from the clear skies above. as you looked ahead at the field a figure had plopped themself down next to you.

“hi y/n! why are you just staring into the field like a weirdo?” hyein asked. she was younger than you by a few years, but you didn’t mind her company.

“c’mon hyein, don’t call y/n a weirdo. she deserves a title like—i’m actually out of ideas,” minji smiles, sitting on the other side of you.

you lay back onto the grassy field, sighing loudly before chuckling softly to yourself.

“you guys are the weirdos,” you snickered.

the three of you began chatting amongst yourselves, talking about anything and everything. a few minutes had passed as you were laughing with your friends, before you noticed another trio of girls making their way onto the field.

and there she was, danielle marsh.  danielle was always the light of everyone’s lives. she was the kindest, sweetest soul anyone has met. danielle was the type of girl to include and help anyone in need, and for that you always admired her. and when you say admire, you actually meant you’ve been yearning for her for years now.

you watched as danielle walked across the field with her friends, hanni and haerin, babbling about something as they listened. she turned her head towards your general direction, and she seemed to light up even more.

“hi y/n!” she yelled, waving her arm in the air.

you waved back with a small smile, watching as she continued to smile widely at you before turning back to talk to her friends.

“now what was that,” hyein teased. “i didn’t know you had friends outside of us!”

you rolled your eyes before pushing hyein onto her side. “whatever,” you mumbled. you took a deep breath in and exhaled before opening your mouth again.

“you do know i’m friends with haerin right? danielle’s no different” you shrugged, feeling a little warmth on your cheeks.

“you say that yet you’re blushing,” minji chuckled. you slap your hands onto your cheeks.

“what do you mean! i’m not blushing! you’re blushing!!” you yell quietly, your eyebrows furrowing.

you found yourself in class on a boring day. your teacher is explaining something that could be important but you aren’t quite sure. with your notebook open, you began doodling a little cat in the corner. then, a piece of paper was thrown onto your desk.

you looked around for the sender, noticing haerin staring you down. you scoffed a little before opening the paper.

“i saw you on the field you homo”

your eyebrows furrowed as you wrote something back, the note being thrown back and forth.

“well ofc you did you were literally there with danielle”

“yeah but i saw the way she looked at you”

“you mean the way i looked at her??? cuz i was being a lil homo”

“no i mean the way she looked at you”

“WAS SHE JUDGING ME HAE…”

“far from it unfortunately,” haerin wrote with an eye-rolling doodle next to it.

“dude you have to tell me how she was looking at me cuz im lwk scared now”

“BE SCARED. more fun for me”

“ok and your supposed to be my friend”

“erm actually it’s spelt you’re!”

“whatever just tell me PLEASE”

“i’ll tell you after school if i can run away from dani and hanni”

as soon as the bell rang, you got up from your seat and grabbed your stuff. it was time to go home and you were buzzing around the hallways to make it off campus.

as you made your way to the front entrance, you felt someone pounce on you.

“hey loser,” haerin smiled.

“why is everyone giving me nicknames,” you mumbled.

the two of you began to walk home together, considering the two of you lived quite close to each other. haerin has always been your friend. despite not being in the same friend groups this year, she always had your back.

“okay, so spill. how was danielle looking at me?” you questioned, watching as haerin began to smirk—something sinister glistening in her eyes.

“you know, i’m not so sure i want to tell you anymore!” she said blissfully. 

“then what was the point of walking and talking with me,” you frowned.

haerin looked at you as she began to pout. “did you not want to walk and talk with me?”

you chuckled softly before nudging her shoulder. “of course i did. i’m sorry i said it like that hae.”

“yeah, i know. i’m just messing with you,” haerin said, poking out her tongue.

you nudged her a little harder than before as you continued to walk and talk. when you made it to her front door, you waved her goodbye before walking to your house a few blocks away.

“wait, y/n!” you heard haerin call out.

“what’s up!” you yelled back.

“make a move!” haerin yelled with a smile before retreating into her own home.

you stood in place for a moment, trying to process what haerin had told you. make a move? what’s that supposed to mean? instead of pondering about it further, you continued to walk home.

as haerin jumped into her bed, she immediately called danielle.

“hey haerin! what’s up?” danielle said cheerfully through the screen.

“you’re a homo,” haerin said flatly. she heard danielle drop something before speaking again.

“what are you talking about! homo? me? no….” danielle chuckled nervously.

“i’ve been friends with you since forever dani, it’s okay,” haerin smiled softly. danielle exhaled through the phone before haerin spoke up again.

“you know who else i’ve been friends with since forever? y/n,” haerin added.

“what’s y/n got to do with me being gay?” danielle asked curiously. she heard haerin let out a big sigh from the other end of the phone.

“my eyes don’t lie. i know what i saw,” haerin said.

“what did you see?” danielle asked concerningly.

“you know what, i give up! you guys suck!” haerin exclaimed, hearing danielle’s confusion from the other line before hanging up.

you sat on the field again, not particularly feeling hungry. you looked out onto the field and spotted danielle once more. but, this time she was alone.

you watched as danielle smiled and walked over to you. you felt your heart begin to slowly rise and beat harder.

“hi there!” danielle smiled brightly, sitting next to you on the patch of grass.

you nodded your head and thinned your lips in response, not trusting your voice to say anything.

“do you know what’s going on with haerin? she was acting weird after school and you’re–like–her best friend,” danielle blurted out.

so she wanted to talk about haerin?

“me? haerin’s best friend? she’s around you so much i’m pretty sure you’re her best friend,” you chuckled softly.

“well, i’d like to disagree but seriously y/n—do you know what happened?” she asked concerningly, inching closer to you with a frown on her face.

you thought back to the day before and how haerin acted. she didn’t seem too out of the ordinary to you, though she was very secretive. you looked at danielle with her big puppy eyes before your heart began to pound through your chest. you hoped that she wouldn’t hear your heart beating out of your chest.

“i–um–i don’t know anything. she seemed a little secretive but overall quite normal,” you said nervously. “what did she do or say that made her seem odd?” you added.

you watched danielle intently as she began to sink herself deep in her thoughts. you watched as a lightbulb seemed to go off in her head and the way she looked into your eyes before looking away quickly with pink cheeks.

“it’s–nothing. it’s nothing important,” danielle said dismissively. she gave a small smile before getting up from the grass.

“i’ll see you in class y/n!” she said with one last smile. you watched her as she ran off the field.

see her in class you did! as you sat in your seat, you watched as danielle walked past your desk and flashed a smile. your heart did a flip before you rested your facial muscles and calmed yourself down.

the lesson itself was boring, and so was the next—but seeing danielle’s face in class made it more than worth it. the two of you don’t interact as much as you would prefer but when you do it always makes you giddy.

as the lessons continued to pass, you felt fatigued. but as the last bell rang, you shot up from your chair once more and grabbed all your stuff. you made your way into the crowded hallway and looked for a way to the front.

you gripped onto your bag of stuff and squirmed your way through the crowd, accidentally bumping into a few people in your attempt to get out of school. you furrowed your eyebrows as you managed to make it close to the front doors, bumping into one last person as you did.

“oh! sorry!” you exclaim, picking up your bag which had fallen to the floor. 

your hands touched another which was also reaching out for your bag. your eyes travelled up the hand, to the arm, and to the face in which it belonged to.

“oh, y/n! no, i should be sorry—i was just standing in the middle of the hallway,” danielle smiled apologetically.

she picked up your bag for you and handed it over, your fingers brushing over hers once more.

“thank you,” you mumbled, before noticing haerin standing off to the side.

“no, don’t mind me! just keep doing what you’re doing,” she smirked.

you watched as danielle’s eyes widened and the way her cheeks began to flush a red tint. she mumbled something to haerin which you couldn’t quite decipher. danielle looked back at you before waving goodbye, leaving you with haerin.

haerin took your arm as you both walked off campus together once more.

“what were you talking about with danielle?” you questioned.

“aw is poor y/n jealous?” haerin teased. “we talked about you actually,” she added.

your eyes widened slightly as you tilted your head to the side.

“you talked about me? what did you talk about?” you questioned further.

“oh—nothing much. just the fact that you’re a socially awkward single loser,” haerin snickered.

you unwrapped your arm from haerin’s as you smacked her on the arm.

“acting as if that isn’t the exact description of you too,” you scoffed with a small smirk.

“well, at least i can actually talk to danielle,” haerin shrugged.

you stayed silent for a while, still standing by haerin’s side. you hummed flatly as your eyebrows furrowed.

“do you like danielle?” you asked haerin quietly.

haerin’s eyes widened as she turned her head to look at you. her own eyebrows furrowed as her jaw dropped slightly.

“excuse me?” haerin exclaimed, clearly taken aback.

“no–nevermind. it’s whatever. it’s nothing and stupid!” you mutter, walking just a little bit faster.

“it is stupid! me? like dani? hell no!” haerin said strongly, matching your walking pace and nudging you in the shoulder. “she's amazing, don't get me wrong! but she's amazing for you.”

you blush at her comment before letting out a sigh of the biggest relief.

“they just let any oblivious homo fall in love with each other,” haerin commented, rolling her eyes.

“wait, what? who’s oblivious?”

“my point exactly.”

“y/n, how long is it going to take for you to ask out danielle?” minji asked on a sunny day.

you spat out the water you were drinking in shock—cleaning yourself up when you regained your consciousness

“excuse me?” you asked with your jaw dropped.

“no–’cause–i agree with minji,” hyein commented, pointing her finger up.

you pondered for a moment before your eyebrows began to furrow.

“i don’t even know if she likes me like that. i’m not risking it,” you sighed.

as if on cue, danielle began to walk onto the field along with her friends. she looked around the field before spotting you with your friends. you watched a smile grow on her face and wave at you.

“yeah, ‘cause she totally doesn’t like you back,” hyein teased, nudging you with her elbow. you nudged her back before whispering to her.

“she’s just nice like that,” you said in a hushed tone, waving back at danielle.

danielle turned back around to look at her friends. before squealing.

“did you guys see that? she waved back at me!” danielle said with a bright smile.

“didn't you wave first?” hanni questioned, raising her eyebrow.

“yeah, but she waved back!” danielle emphasised.

hanni looked over to haerin who had a smug look on her face.

“what's got you looking so smug, haerin?” hanni scoffed.

haerin paused.

“homos.”

“haerin!” you called out from outside her front door. you had been banging on the door and ringing the doorbell for a solid minute before she came out with tired eyes.

“what are you doing here? it's—like—5 am,” haerin said groggily, rubbing her eyes.

“i want to ask out danielle for valentines!” you said in a hurry, a blush spreading on your cheeks.

with your words, you watched as haerin seemed to regain all her energy—her eyes lighting up.

“finally! but why'd you have to come over at 5 am?” haerin asked.

you pushed your way through the front door and took off your shoes—making your way to the kitchen. haerin noticed a plastic bag in your hands and asked what was in it. you dumped the contents onto the kitchen counter before opening your mouth to respond.

“this is why i came over at 5 am!” you said with a smile.

on the counter lay a pack of strawberries, different types of chocolate, and marshmallows.

“did you wake me up just so i could help you woo danielle?” haerin teased, a smirk forming on her mouth as she brought up the marshmallows.

“also, why marshmallows?”

“well–y’know– danielle marsh. marshmallows!” you chuckled nervously. haerin rolled her eyes with a smile on her lips.

you searched through haerin’s cabinets to find yourself a glass bowl and a saucepan—filling the saucepan up with water and putting it on the stove.

“wait, isn’t this going to wake up your parents?” you asked in a hushed tone.

“they decided to go on a valentines trip last night so no one's home,” haerin shrugged, washing the strawberries for you.

“oh, to be in love,” you sighed. haerin glared at you from the side of her eyes before washing the last of the strawberries.

“hae, i might need to steal a few things. thank you!!” you exclaimed as you rummaged through more cabinets, haerin chuckling on the side.

as the bell went for the first period, you nervously peeked your head through the door. you noticed danielle already sitting by her desk and you wanted to take this opportunity to hand her your gift—that was until more students began to flow into the classroom.

feeling more anxious and defeated, you gently hid your gift away in your bag and went to take your seat. you looked over to where danielle was sitting as she looked straight back at you, smiling brightly with nothing but sweetness in her eyes.

you felt your cheeks grow warm before breaking eye contact—the teacher entering the classroom and beginning the lesson.

you sat lazily as the time seemed to pass by slowly, doodling in your book and jotting down some notes.

when the bell had finally rung after a very boring lesson, you didn't get up from your seat immediately like you usually would. instead, you stayed behind—taking extra time to pack up all your stuff. you watched as the students began to leave the class one by one—leaving you in the classroom alone with danielle.

she had also taken a while to pack up all her stuff before slowly making her way to the door. you thought that maybe this was your chance to give her your gift. you took a hesitant step before she opened the door to reveal haerin standing right in front of it.

“oh, haerin! you scared me!” danielle shrieked, haerin giving her an apologetic look before making eye contact with you from over danielle’s shoulder.

you watched as she gave you a look—danielle obviously noticing haerin glance over her shoulder. as danielle turned around, you hid your gift once more with a blush on your face.

“did you want to come walk around with us?” danielle asked you with a soft smile.

you felt your heart beat faster, wanting to accept her offer.

“i–um–i think i’ll have to say no to the offer. sorry danielle,” you said hesitantly. you knew you could not last hanging out with her, despite it hurting your heart as danielle frowned slightly at your response.

“that's okay! and, you can call me dani—that's what all my friends call me,” she said with another soft smile.

you nodded and gave her a small wave as she walked out the door with haerin by her side—haerin glaring at you before following along with her.

after walking a good distance away from the classroom, danielle looked around her surroundings—as if she were making sure no one was around. haerin looked at her with a confused look before danielle began to speak.

“did you see the pink on her cheeks or was it just me?” danielle giggled, smiling from ear to ear.

“okay, homo,” haerin chuckled as she rolled her eyes.

danielle continued to blabber on about how cute she found you to haerin—running into hanni halfway through and continuing her rant.

“wait, so did you just friendzone y/n?” hanni asked.

danielle furrowed her eyebrows and began slowly shaking her head—then it hit her.

“that's what all my friends call me… wait—i think i did,” danielle mumbled.

“did i fumble!?” she exclaimed, holding hanni by the shoulders.

hanni nodded slowly as haerin patted danielle’s back.

“mate, just straight up ask her out if you want to unfriendzone her. it is valentines day today,” hanni scoffed.

danielle’s eyes lit up at hanni’s advice before she began furrowing her eyebrows again.

“but, i don't have anything to gift her,” danielle pouted. “i can't just ask her out with nothing to give her.”

hanni looked at haerin who had a smug look glistening in her eyes.

“haerin, seriously, why are you always looking so smug?” hanni inquired. haerin shrugged in response as the three of them continued to walk around campus.

“she friend-zoned me,” you exclaimed in a saddened tone, bringing your hands to your hair.

minji and hyein looked at you with confused looks as you came to sit down with them. 

“um—can we get some context?” minji questioned.

“she said i could start calling her dani because that's what all her friends call her,” you said as you flopped down onto your back, the feeling of the grass hitting the back of your hands.

both of your friends winced in sympathy for you as you continued to rant about danielle.

“she's amazing and i’m so glad she sees me as a friend—but i want to be more than that,” you groaned.

“well, did you tell her that?” hyein asked. you shook your head.

“then tell her you dummy. no better day to ask out the girl you're in love with than valentines day,” hyein smiled.

“did you just ignore the fact i said she friend-zoned me?” you mumbled with a frown.

“yeah, but you planned on asking her out—didn't you?” she asked with a smirk.

minji looked at you as you slowly nodded your head—her mouth dropping.

“and why didn't i know about this?” minji shouted in disbelief. “when did you grow guts?”

you playfully slapped minji on her side as you chuckled softly. you closed your eyes as you felt the sun against your skin, sighing loudly.

“i may or may have not made chocolate-dipped strawberries for her,” you muttered—both minji and hyein still hearing every word.

they both smiled at you before dragging you up from the grass.

“c’mon then. let's bag you a girlfriend.”

minji and hyein dragged you around campus, searching every crook and cranny for danielle before spotting her from a distance.

“hey, danielle!” hyein yelled out, waving her hand in the air as danielle looked over to you.

the three of you walked up to danielle and her friends. you made eye contact with haerin and mouthed “help me” with furrowed brows as she smirked at you with her tongue stuck out. 

“rude ass friend,” you muttered to yourself.

danielle looked at you and your friends with a confused face, looking at you specifically before looking at hyein as she spoke once more.

“y/n here has something to tell you!” hyein exclaimed, letting you go as she went to drag haerin away—minji doing the same with hanni. “alone too by the way!”

you watched your friends drag danielle's friends away, leaving you standing in the hallway with danielle.

“so, pretty nice day isn’t it,” you nervously chuckled, fidgeting with your fingers.

“yeah, it's a pretty nice day—especially for valentines day too,” danielle beamed.

you felt yourself hiccup at the words valentines day, clearing your throat as you did.

“what did you want to tell me?” danielle asked with soft eyes. looking into them, you thought that—maybe—she knew exactly what you wanted to say.

“look—danielle–” you started. “um—i mean dani—i just wanted to say that i think you're really–” and before you could finish your sentence, the bell rang for the next period.

students began to walk through the corridors, walking straight passed you and danielle. your cheeks now burnt a bright red as you cleared your throat—danielle still waiting for what you had to say.

“you know what, it's nothing. i’ll see you in class,” you choked out with an awkward smile, lowering your head and leaving for class.

you raised your hands over to your cheeks before exhaling air you didn't know you were holding in.

as you sat in class, you watched as haerin walked through the door—glaring right at you. you grimaced as she tore out a piece of paper from her notebook and began to scribble something down. it didn't take long before she passed the paper over to you.

“what the hell did you say and why did your friends drag me and hanni away?”

“IDK WHY THEY DID THAT PLEASE BELIEVE ME but i feel like they wanted me to confess :/”

“im guessing you didn't cuz i saw dani right before coming to class and she looked oddly disappointed”

“disappointed? why was she disappointed?”

“use your brain y/n”, haerin wrote with a mad cat doodle on the side.

“idk i’m still confused but should i still give the chocolates?”

“why are you even asking? ofc you should and ask her out for real why you're at it”

“I’M SCARED”

“be scared idrc but you need to ask her out before i jump you with your own friends”

“minii and hyein would never! wait nvm they would”

“you have all day to think about it and if you don't plan on confessing then i’m stealing the strawberries for myself”

“WHAT”

“did i do something wrong?” danielle asked hanni as they walked out of class together. “y/n seemed like she wanted to tell me something but has been avoiding me all day.”

hanni watched as danielle pouted with sad eyes.

“no, you didn't do anything wrong—just trust me on that,” hanni smiled softly, placing her hand on danielle's shoulder.

“where's haerin?” hanni questioned.

“she told me she had to help y/n with something,” danielle mumbled.

hanni looked at her with an amused face. “are you jealous?”

“what!? no! what gave you that conclusion!?” danielle exclaimed—her cheeks growing warmer as she gradually became flustered.

“i just wish i knew what y/n wanted to tell me! that's it,” danielled chuckled nervously.

“wait up!” danielle heard from behind her. she turned around to see haerin walking towards her and hanni—alone.

“you look disappointed. did you expect someone else?” haerin snickered, pointing at danielle.

danielle pouted as she wrapped her arms in her friends. “nope! i’m just glad to have my friends,” danielle said with her chin up.

the three of them took a step off campus as they heard another voice yell from behind them.

“dani! wait up!” you yelled. danielle immediately unwrapped her arms from her friends as she turned around to look at you.

you ran up to danielle and her friends with a box in your hands. you stopped to take a deep breath before looking up into danielle's eyes. you swallowed down all your anxiety before opening your mouth.

“i just wanted to say something i wanted to say before and i’m sorry i haven't told you sooner—but i think you're really pretty and an absolute angel. you're so sweet it makes my heart skip a a beat and you don't have to reciprocate my feelings but—i like you, danielle,” you blurted out, lowering your head as you brought the carefully decorated box in front of danielle.

you looked up slightly with pink cheeks, watching as danielle's cheeks begin to flush. you pushed the box into danielle’s hands as you brought your head back up.

“okay! that's all i had to say then. goodbye!” you rushed nervously, running away as danielle was left stunned along with her friends.

“i told you—you didn't do anything wrong,” hanni chuckled lightly.

danielle was left standing in place, her cheeks rapidly growing warmer as she felt her heart pound in her chest. she blinked once, she blinked twice. danielle turned her head to haerin with wide eyes and red cheeks.

“did you know she was going to do that?” danielle mumbled as the edges of her lips began to curl up.

“maybe! just—open the box. it gets better,” haerin shrugged with a smile.

danielle opened the box with shaky hands, revealing beautifully decorated chocolate-dipped strawberries that sat on top of marshmallows.

“y/n wanted to tell you that she chose marshmallows ‘cause it has your last name in it—marshmallows, danielle marsh,” haerin commented.

danielle kept going red as she took a deep breath in. she looked at her friends who wore big smiles on their faces, clearly really happy for her. danielle moved her eyes to the box of strawberries then up to haerin’s eyes.

“can you tell me y/n’s address?”

after running home, you decided you needed to calm down your nerves—your heart still pounding from your sudden confession to danielle.

you set your bag down before hopping into the shower, feeling the water touch your back and the top of your head. you felt your muscles relax as the water continued to flow down your body.

you closed your eyes and began to imagine danielle's eyes, her smile, her face. you thought about the possible consequences of your confession and started to worry. what if you messed everything up?

as you finished up your shower, you heard your front doorbell ring. you quickly dried yourself down and put on a new change of clothes, bringing a towel with you to the door for your hair.

you ruffled your hair with the towel before opening the front door to reveal a face you were just thinking about.

“hi!” danielle said with a big smile that reached from ear to ear—her cheeks coloured in a cute pink.

“hi,” you breathed out, a warmth starting to spread on your own cheeks.

you watched danielle lower her head, rocking back and forth on her heels. she held something behind her back but you weren't quite sure what it was.

“i–um–i just wanted to say that—i think you're really pretty too,” danielle stuttered.

she brought her hands in between her and yourself, revealing a beautiful pink and white bouquet. she raised her head to look at you with her big, soft eyes—adorned with the softest smile that made your knees buckle. you felt your jaw drop and your heart began to race as she grabbed your hand to hold the bouquet.

“could i have the honour of being your girlfriend?”

[littlcdarlin]

My Burning Sun Will Someday Rise — the journey home

summary: Joel drives you home from the airport after your vacation. You miss him as soon as he's gone. warnings: daddy kink (mentioned once), big age gap (23 & 49), orgasm control (reader needs Joel's permission), slight angst, phone sex in your parents' home (the most mortifying thing I can think of actually)

note: sorry this took me so long, I lowkey forgot about it tbh. It's a little angsty, but I swear that angst will be resolved!! Idk when, because I'm writing a different oneshot atm, but at some point I plan on writing more smut & a confrontation with reader's Dad. Enjoy these head canons in the meantime, and thank you for your love on this series <3333

Your Dad calls while you’re still at the airport & Joel tells him he got you home safely (your panties are still ruined from how badly you wanted Joel on the plane, his hand on your thigh the entire time)

He puts the luggage in the trunk of his Bronco, and before you’ve made it halfway home, he pulls over to a deserted parking lot by the side of the road & makes you ride him in the car

So good, baby, let me have it one last time. He comes inside of you like he did every time he fucked you during your trip, and when you grab your tissues to clean yourself, he asks you to leave it, baby, want you to remember me when you get home

So you do, because you always do what he tells you, and because you don’t want to let him go completely just yet. The rest of the way both of you are very quiet

Joel pulls up to your Dad’s house (you’re staying with him to help him with his leg), and before you can get out, he pulls you into a hug, and kisses the side of your head

Hope ya had a good time. You want to cry but you also don’t want to seem clingy, so you nod. Joel doesn’t let you go for a few minutes

When you pull away to say goodbye, he looks like your Dad’s Joel again, wearing his boots instead of flip flops, a pair of jeans instead of your beloved trunks, and his linen shirt is nowhere to be seen

Take care, kid. Call me if you need anything, alright? And don’t study too hard.

Before you can answer, the front door opens and your Dad greets you, leg still in a cast, and considerably less tan than you and Joel

When you get out to greet him, you feel Joel’s cum drip out of you and into your cotton panties. You glance at Joel, who seems to understand and raises one playful eyebrow — he’s still your Joel, no matter his clothes

Your Dad hugs you and the entire time you think he'll be able to smell Joel on you, his clothes you kept wearing, his shampoo you used when you were too lazy to get yours from your own hotel room, his sweat and spit and cum on you, but your Dad just walks over to Joel's window and thanks him

"Had a good time with my girl?"

Joel doesn't really meet his eye, and you think to yourself that my girl is a term only applicable if Joel says it, but he just agrees, says the food was good and that you studied a lot

And that's it, Joel drives away with one last glance at you in the sun, and then he's gone and a strange emptiness settles over you

You tell your Dad you need some time for yourself after a week of socializing, which he doesn't question, so you say good night, plop down on your bed and put on a movie. You don't want to shower, not when you can still feel Joel inside of you

It takes you around twenty minutes to pull out your phone, and when you do, you've already got a message from Joel

Miss you already, baby. At the risk of sounding desperate, call me if you need a break from studying.

The proper punctuation makes you smile and want to cry at the same time, Joel's age so obvious. You take a couple of seconds to answer and fight the urge to call him and ask him to just take you away to live at his place, your Dad be damned

miss you too. can still feel you inside of me. trying hard not to call you right now

Almost immediately, your phone lights up with Joel's name, and then he's there, his beautiful face taking up the majority of the screen, and although you try hard not to cry, you feel tears burning your eyes

You tell Joel you miss your vacation already, that you wish you could go back, that you don't want to sleep alone tonight. You wonder if he just wanted to have phone sex with you and instead got this jumbled up mess of feelings and tears

But there's just kindness and warmth in his eyes, and when he tells you he wishes you were there with him, watching a movie together instead of alone, relief floods your body. He talks to you in his soothing voice until you stop crying, tells you you can always come over

You're scared to ask him what he means, if he's offering a shoulder to cry on, or if he actually wants to keep seeing you, but when he sees the expression on your face, he asks you to come to his place tomorrow and talk there, instead of over the phone

You agree, already longing for his arms around your body, and when you ask him to make you feel good in a hushed voice, he is quiet for a couple of seconds

Want me to help you get off in your Dad's house? You're not even home in your apartment and you already need it this bad?

It's humiliating in a way that switches off your brain, Joel's words exactly what you need to get lost in him – he isn't pretending what the two of you are doing isn't completely reckless and fucked, instead, he embraces it, makes you get off on it

He makes you use your fingers instead of a vibrator, and they feel strikingly small after being stretched out on Joel's cock for a week. By now, he knows your sounds well enough to tell you to stop when you're close, and only after bringing you right to the edge three times with little more than his dirty words, and you beg him with tears in your eyes, Daddy please, he lets you come

That's it, baby, you have my permission.

When you're done, you wonder why he hasn't touched himself, anxiety bubbling up inside of you, but Joel tells you he wants to focus on you, that he'll take care of it when you've gone to bed.

You tell him again how much you miss him, that you don't want to sleep alone, or get off alone, or eat alone, or with anyone else. Joel smiles sadly, and sighs. Don't gotta get off alone, kid, just text me whenever you need me.

But it's all he can offer – his permission to come, but no dinners together, no nights spent basking in his warmth and scent. You take it, though, and promise to ask his permission every time. You know it turns Joel on, but there is also something more intimate about it. The only exclusivity either of you can offer each other at the moment

You both fall asleep while still on FaceTime, but in the morning, your phone is dead

taglist: @allydiasx@b1bbles@monamedeiros12@brittmb115@dansdonunts @mattevioletgirl @pedrospurplerain @fsiryspit @strangerthingslover69 @thanyatargaryen @chochoooooooooo @guelyury @iloveumorethanlove @neayinia @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @clancysinferno @bbyanarchist @pedrofan @cr3aturef3ar @malfoycassimalfoy @akah565

[hedwigette]

The Draco in the books is such a pathetic wet loser and it's a part of his charm. Inside he was a sensible person, much more gentle than some of the boys Myrtle met (Moaning Myrtle said it not me). He's comfortable with showing his emotions (unlike Harry who view them as weakness).

He's not graceful/elegant or unreadable at all. He's tripping on his feet (Madam Malkin, 6 book), flushing easily (Harry denied his friendship which might be the first time someone denied him something), and not the best at having rational speech especially under the pressure (6th book with Dumbledore).

In fact he wears his heart on his sleeves so much that Harry can anticipate what Draco would say and think and do (Harry always keeps an eye on him to avoid him).

But he still remains a sarcastic bully who's got the same humour as Ron (Harry loves it) and with the ideas that he comes up with (Potter stink badges, Wesley is our king...) he sure does have at least three monkeys giving him unhinged ideas.

it is a crime to write draco malfoy as anything other than a little shit and im on my way to arrest your fool ass

[alsofoundinpeas]

Dinner for Two(ish)

Summary: Since the beginning of your relationship, you and Spencer have made it a tradition to share a candlelit dinner at home every Valentine's Day. But this year, the evening has a surprise guest—one who’s about to change everything.

CONTENT WARNINGS: (While this fic itself isn't explicit content, my blog is 18+ so please keep this in mind!!) Mentions of past infertility issues. Pregnancy announcement. Both reader and Spencer cry but it's happy tears!! Established relationship. Fluff <3 (I think that's all but feel free to let me know if there are any I should add!)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader/afab!reader

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day my angels!! <3 This is way different than my usual fics so I hope you guys like it :') I figured something short and sweet (not a Sabrina reference but still giggling) would be best for today. I did try a different writing style instead of using Y/N so any feedback would be greatly appreciated! I also have a requested fic coming out Sunday or Monday that I'm excited for you guys to read <3 As always, please tell me what you think! If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends :) Thank you and I love you all!!

Nerves wrack your body as you pace the kitchen, your heart pounding so hard you swore it was bound to leap right out of your ribcage if you were to stop moving.

Spencer called a few minutes ago to let you know he was on his way home, leaving you with almost an hour to set everything up for his surprise. You’d kept the call brief and kept your voice even so he wouldn’t suspect anything—a surprising feat, considering your body was (and still is) trembling like a leaf caught in a windstorm. In a way, you were thankful he’d had back-to-back cases recently.

Despite missing him so much it ached and worrying about him every second you were awake (and even in your subconscious as you slept), Spencer being away so often made keeping your secret much easier.

The wedding ring on your finger spun endlessly as you continued to fidget with it—a nervous habit that you’d picked up the second Spencer slid it on. A glance at the clock on the stove told you he’d be home in roughly five minutes. A shaky sigh filled the air as you attempted to swallow your nerves, lighting the candles you’d set up on the dining table and fixing your plates with the food you spent over an hour preparing because everything had to be perfect for tonight.

The familiar sound of keys jingling and the lock turning sent your blood rushing through your veins, humming beneath your skin in an excited current as you wait for your husband to open the door.

Spencer stepped inside, wearing an exhausted smile and holding a bouquet of the most beautiful flowers he could find last minute before the florist down the street closed their shop. His face lit up at the sight of the candlelit dinner, the crinkles around his eyes making your nerves settle just a little. It reminded you that the man in front of you was the love of your life, and that, despite how scary it felt, everything would be just fine.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart,” he murmured as he made his way over to you, pulling you into a tight but mindful hug so that he didn’t crush your flowers. "Dinner smells amazing. You spoil me."

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you waved a hand dismissively, pressing a tender kiss to his before taking the flowers to put them in a vase. "You don’t need to butter me up, Spence. I’m already your wife," you teased, though your cheeks flushed at the compliment.

"Something I’m grateful for every day," Spencer said with sincerity, moving behind you to wrap his arms around you and place a soft kiss on the top of your head.

After arranging the flowers in the vase and setting them on the table, the two of you sat down to eat. As you picked at your food, Spencer noticed you nervously fidgeting with your ring. His brow furrowed in concern as he wondered what could possibly be making you so anxious. Finally, he set his fork down, unable to stay quiet any longer.

"Honey, what's wrong? What's got you so worked up?"

His voice caught your attention, causing you to glance up from where you were gathering another bite onto your fork. Your teeth dug into your lower lip as you averted your gaze, contemplating waiting until the both of you were done eating or just telling him right now so you could get it out of the way. With a deep breath, you decided on the latter, letting your fork hit the plate with a soft clink as you cleared your throat.

"I...um. I actually have a present for you this year. Stay right here," you whispered as you got up, ignoring his protests as you hurried into your shared bedroom to grab the small box you'd put together for him. The box couldn't have been more than half a pound at most, but its contents had you feeling like you were carrying the weight of the world in your hands—and technically, you were.

Spencer eyed you skeptically as you returned, his gaze immediately dropping to the box as you placed it in front of him. "Sweetheart, I've told you that the dinner is more than enough for me—"

"Just open it," you urged, gesturing for him to go ahead with a quick, impatient motion from where you stood beside him.

A surprised chuckle escaped him as he raised his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay! Sorry." His fingers fumbled with the red ribbon, unwinding it carefully as he slowly lifted the lid. You kept your eyes fixed on his face, anxiously watching for his reaction as he peered inside.

Inside was a tiny onesie with Baby Reid printed in delicate cursive, accompanied by an ultrasound photo and the three positive tests you’d taken (because you hadn’t quite believed the first one).

Spencer stared down at the items in complete shock, his mouth opening and closing for a moment before he glanced up at you. "W-we're having a baby?" His voice trembled, his eyes welling with tears at the realization.

For more than a year, you and Spencer had been trying to conceive, with him meticulously tracking your cycle and researching every possible method to increase your chances. But each time, you were met with heartache and disappointment, tossing negative test after negative test into the trash. Eventually, you both resigned yourselves to the reality that, as much as you longed for a baby of your own, it might not be in the cards.

You’d never been happier to be wrong in your life.

Nodding your head, tears began to well in your own eyes as you flashed him a watery smile. "We're having a baby, Spence."

Before you could even process what was happening, he was up and kneeling in front of you, his hands gently cradling your stomach as tears began to fall. A choked laugh escaped him as he looked up at you, eyes wide with awe. "We're having a baby," he whispered again, pressing a tender kiss to your stomach despite the barely-there bump—just over eight weeks along.

The sight made your heart swell, one hand instinctively wiping away his tears, even as your own continued to fall. The other hand rested gently beside his on your stomach. And as you watched your husband speak softly to your unborn baby, you couldn’t help but feel that everything you’d ever wanted was finally right there, just beneath your fingertips.

Continued A/N's: AHHH this got posted a little later than intended because I kept coming back to edit HAHA but I truly hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I did. I truly believe that man deserved a happy ending with baby geniuses of his own and this is my way of coping :') BUTTTT thank you so much for reading and Happy Valentine's Day again <3

REMINDER: I do NOT give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, TikTok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

[xiaq]

Would you ever write a story or book about Kuzy? I need more of himmmm ❤️ one of the few characters I'd read MF for though I feel like if anyone would be chill about finding out he was bi and going with it, it'd be Kuzy lol #yeshomo

@rainbowsandcoconut

I don't currently have any substantive plans for a Kuzy story, but if you want some of my brainworms about him/his eventual romance, here you go:

He lives right next to a firehouse and there's a cute, kickass firewoman (cis, leans androgynous) named Nicole "call me Nic" with whom he has occasional banter-moments (I used to live next to a firehouse and if they were out front they'd always chat with me when I walked the dog; I loved that community dynamic).

One night after a rough game, Kuzy is going for a walk and Nic is sitting out on a lawn chair in front of the house processing a rough call, and they have a moment of shared vulnerability together, looking up at the stars. She's the child of immigrants and they bond over how stupid the English language is. Kuzy tells her about Eli/Hawk and she mentions that she loves dogs but can't have one with her work schedule.

Over the next few days, Kuzy can't stop thinking about her. He wants an excuse to see her more often that doesn't feel creepy, so he goes to the shelter nearby and offers to exercise dogs. Now, he has a perfectly good reason to walk past the firehouse (sometimes multiple times a day!) on the off-chance the firefighters are out and he can politely offer a dog's brief company for Nic's enjoyment.

Except he's not super smooth about it because the rest of the folks at the house realize pretty quickly that the giant Russian walking dogs only happens to walk dogs on the days that Nic is on shift.

Convenient.

This continues for longer than it probably should. Until Kuzy is hosting some of the Hounds and one of the rookies does something stupid. Not sure what. I'm thinking gets his hand stuck in an expensive vase. Or maybe his head. And Kuzy very sheepishly has to walk him over to the firehouse like, "hello, this baby is my responsibility, can you please rescue him?" And they eventually get the thing cut off of his hand/head/whatever but one of Nic's bros pulls Kuzy aside and says, "maybe you should just ask her out instead of coming up with increasingly more creative excuses to talk to her—at this rate someone is going to get hurt" and Kuzy is like, “ok, this was 100% not contrived and while I would like to go out with her, she is a goddess who saves lives and I am but a goofy athlete, undeserving of her attentions," and Firefighter Bro like, "you know, I think she'd settle for you."

So, spurred on by this bit of hope, he's like, "I need to do this right, this can't just be some hookup, I like her." And he starts Operation Woo Nic.

And the whole time Nic is like, "would you just fucking take me home, I would like to bang you," but he's trying so hard to be a gentleman about it that she lets him for a while. She's never been woo'ed before. Might be fun. Eventually she gets fed up and when he's dropping off cookies or whatever on his daily dog-walk she's like, "hey, do you want to be my boyfriend? Yeah? Great. We should have sex about that. My shift ends in three hours, what's your address?"

It is possibly the best day of Kuzy's life.

Anyway. As usual, there's no real plot, just vibes. But he is Smitten. And she is hopelessly endeared. And she's certified as a paramedic, so she's constantly ragging him for his little injuries and keeping him honest about PT. At some point she gets injured in the line of duty and he gets to be suitably dramatic and probably make declarations at her hospital bedside. He dotes on her for a while during her recovery.

And eventually he convinces her to move in with him so she can be close to work and she's like, "yeah? That's the only reason? For the ease of my commute?" And he says, "well that but also because I love you more than I thought was possible and when we're not together I miss you like a limb and our schedules are shit enough as it is, I'm greedy for every second I can have with you," and she's like, "yeah, fair enough."

So. Not really sure how it would end, but uh. There you go! Kuzy and his Firefighter Lady. Also he definitely foster-fails multiple times and hires a full-time nanny to take care of all his and Nic's dogs when she's on shift and he's traveling. It's great.

AND I imagine some very funny cultural confusion moments when her family (Japanese) interacts with his family (Russian) but they all generally bond over their shared love of fermented foods and dumplings. And alcohol. There are hijinks.

Ok. The End!

[vibelladonna]

𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓉𝑔𝓊𝓃 𝜗𝜚 𝓉𝑜𝒷𝓎 𝓇𝑜𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝓍 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: University sucks, the party’s not much better, and you just needed something to take the edge off. Then you met him—smirking, drinking, smoking, and way too good at getting under your skin. One reckless choice, a little smoke, and now you’re in deeper than you planned.  

All this because of 'shotgun'.

Also, I just wanted to let y’all know I’m focusing on writing creepypasta fics. The proxies then extend down the road since I have plans to write more stuff soon. I’m excited to get back into the fandom that helped shape me into who I am, so I hope you all enjoy reading.

This is by far some of my favorite fic.

𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓈: dealer!toby, drunk and high reader, smut, public fucking, degrading, frat party chaos, dangerously hot tension, dirty talk, sloppy makeout, mischief and mayhem, horror lurking in the background, high risk, bad decisions, toxic flirting, rough but hot, Toby being a menace, reader getting lost in the moment

Music. Loud. Sweaty. Flashing lights. Packed bodies. 

That’s life at a frat party—especially at a University.    

And here you are. Again. It’s the fourth time this week, which is ridiculous, but whatever. Thinking about it too much makes your head hurt, and right now, thinking is the last thing you want to do. So, you don’t. Instead, you just exist—float through the mess of bodies, lights, and bass like it’s just another night, because at this point, it is.  

One second, you were swearing off cheap beer and regret-fueled decisions, and the next? Someone was dragging you through the door of another overcrowded house, the bass shaking the walls like it’s got something to prove.  

The air is thick and humid with the scent of too many people packed into one place, layered with alcohol, sweat, cheap cologne, and the unmistakable burn of weed. Someone stumbles past, nearly knocking into you, and you move without thinking, sidestepping effortlessly. 

You don’t even flinch. 

You’ve already lost count of how many times someone’s spilled their drink on you, but at this point, what’s another stain on your already questionable life choices?  You’ve gotten used to this—used to the chaos, the noise, the heat of it all pressing in.  

Your dress clings to your body, lace and satin hugging your frame like it was made for you, black and sleek, the hem just short enough to tease but not desperate enough to beg for attention. Your ripped tights stretch over your legs, the small tears catching the flashing neon lights as you move. Your boots—tall, chunky, black platforms—thud against the sticky floor with every step, giving you that extra height, that extra weight to your presence. 

You’re not delicate. 

Not fragile. Not here.  

The star-shaped bead necklace resting against your collarbone shifts as you walk, the cool beads a strange contrast to the heat of the room. It’s the only thing on you that doesn’t feel like armor, the only thing soft, almost childish, against the dark edge of the rest of your outfit. 

But you like it. It reminds you of something—something you can’t quite name, but something that feels distant, like a memory you almost remember before it slips through your fingers.  

You could leave. You should leave. 

But something keeps you here. 

Maybe it’s the way the music thrums under your skin, the way the chaos feels like static in your head—loud enough to drown out whatever thoughts you don’t want to deal with, or maybe it’s just that part of you that doesn’t want to be alone tonight.  

But whatever. It’s just another night. Another party. Another drink.  

You push through the crowd, toward the kitchen, because if you’re going to keep pretending everything is fine, you’re going to need something to sip on. It’s easier that way. It keeps everything quiet, keeps the thoughts at bay. 

And right now? That’s all you need.

The kitchen is just as much of a mess as the rest of the house. Sticky counters, half-empty bottles of vodka and tequila, a questionable jungle juice mix sloshing around in a plastic tub that looks like it hasn’t been cleaned properly in months. 

Solo cups litter every surface, discarded and forgotten, and the faint smell of beer, sweat, and something burnt lingers in the air. Someone left a bag of half-eaten chips on the counter, but they’re already stale, exposed to the humidity and the heat of too many bodies in a house that should not be holding this many people.  

You weave through the kitchen, careful with your movements—controlled, deliberate. You don’t rush. Rushing means you’re in a hurry, means you’re nervous, and that’s the last thing you want to look like in a place like this. 

The frat guys? Yeah, they’re watching. 

They always are. 

Not that you care, not really, but you make sure to let them see just enough to know you’re not approachable. The lace and satin of your dress catch the dim, flickering light, your ripped tights adding an edge, the platform boots giving you weight, grounding you. 

You look good. You know it. They know it. 

But that doesn’t mean you’re interested.  

It’s all the same. These parties, these guys. They circle like vultures, drunk off beer and ego, scanning the room for girls too fresh to know better. It’s not even surprising. Frat parties aren’t really about the party; they’re about the hunt. And the freshmen? They eat it up, giggling into their drinks, draping themselves over guys who are already planning how the night’s gonna end. 

It’s not a bad thing, necessarily—everyone’s having fun, after all—but it cheapens the whole vibe. Makes it feel less like a party and more like a transaction.  

So, why are you here?  

Good question. Maybe it’s the music, the way the bass thrums through your bones, loud enough to drown out thoughts you don’t want to deal with. Maybe it’s the anonymity of it all—here, no one cares who you are or what you’re running from. 

You could be anyone. Do anything. It’s the kind of place where judgment doesn’t exist, where people let themselves fall apart without consequence, because come morning, no one’s gonna remember.  

You grab a bottle from the counter, something dark, something strong, and pour yourself another drink. It burns when it goes down, but that’s good. 

That’s what you want. 

That’s the point.  

The night stretches ahead, endless and hazy, the music still pulsing, the party still alive. And you? You’re just here, existing in it, letting it swallow you whole.

The wooden planks creak under your boots as you step onto the balcony, the air instantly cooler, crisper against your flushed skin. Out here, the chaos of the party fades—not completely, but enough. The bass still thrums through the walls, muffled, but compared to the suffocating heat inside, this feels almost peaceful. Almost.  

You lean against the railing, eyes scanning the view—a few trees swaying gently in the night breeze, buildings standing silent in the distance, the occasional car rolling down the dimly lit street below. It’s nothing special, but right now, it’s a hell of a lot better than being trapped inside with too many bodies, too much noise, and too many guys looking for their next easy lay. 

You take a slow breath, letting the night air cool your skin, before pushing your hair back and taking a sip of your drink. The burn is familiar now, settling warm in your stomach, grounding you in a way that nothing else really does.  

You place the cup on the railing, fingers lingering for a moment before you catch movement out of the corner of your eye. You’re not alone.  

In the farthest corner of the balcony, half-hidden in the shadows, a guy is leaning up against the wall, phone pressed to his ear. He’s talking—low, quiet, voice barely carrying over the distant thump of music inside. You can’t make out the words, not exactly, but there’s something in the way he speaks, clipped and tense, that makes it clear the conversation isn’t lighthearted.  

You don’t mean to listen. Really. But it’s hard not to when it’s just the two of you out here, and there’s nothing else to focus on besides the sound of his voice. You shift your weight, turning slightly away, giving the illusion of privacy while your ears pick up every muffled word you can catch.

 Nosy? Maybe. But can you be blamed?  

The wind picks up slightly, pushing strands of hair into your face. You exhale, shaking them loose, and glance at the guy again. He hasn’t noticed you—or if he has, he doesn’t care. Fine by you. 

You’re not looking for conversation. Just a moment to breathe, to exist outside of everything, even if it’s just for a few minutes.

You exhale slowly, eyes trailing over the street below as the cool night air settles over your skin. The party is still in full swing behind you—muffled bass rattling the walls, drunken laughter spilling out through the open doors, the occasional shout of someone either too hyped or too wasted to care about volume control. It’s all background noise now, just another part of the night.  

Maybe it’s time to leave.  

You’ve been here long enough, longer than you meant to. You told yourself you’d just come for one drink, just to feel the energy, just to distract yourself for a little while. And yet, here you are—four nights deep into the same routine, standing on a frat house balcony at god-knows-what time, staring out at the same damn street, feeling the same creeping exhaustion settle into your bones.  

You know how the rest of the night is gonna play out. You’ll go back inside, push through the sweat-slick bodies, dodge another drunk guy who thinks standing way too close is an acceptable flirting technique, grab whatever’s left of your drink, and maybe—just maybe—someone will convince you to stay for “one more.” You’ll say yes, because it’s easier than going home to an empty room where your own thoughts are louder than the party you just left.  

Or, you could just… go now. Call it. Walk down those sticky-ass, deathtrap stairs, push past the front door, and let the night air carry you home. Sounds easy enough.  

Except, knowing this place, the second your boot hits one of those steps, there’s a good chance the entire staircase might just give out beneath you. It’s a miracle this frat house is still standing at all—like some kind of drunk, indestructible cockroach of a building, surviving on nothing but spilled beer, bad decisions, and whatever last-minute duct tape fixes the guys have slapped together over the years.  

The walls? Covered in mystery stains no one dares to question. The furniture? A graveyard of mismatched couches that probably came from a curb somewhere, each one holding the history of every regrettable hookup that’s ever happened at this house. The floors? Stickier than a damn movie theater, holding onto spilled drinks and broken dreams like a badge of honor.  

And those stairs? Those damn stairs are an actual lawsuit waiting to happen. Uneven, creaking under the weight of anyone stupid enough to trust them, patched up with nails that barely hold together the wood. You’ve seen people wipe out on them at least three times tonight alone—some because they were drunk, others just because the stairs themselves seemed to decide, “Yeah, not tonight.”  

Still, as much of a disaster as this place is, it’s got that weird, grimy charm that keeps people coming back. Maybe it’s the parties, maybe it’s the fact that no matter how many times the university threatens to shut this place down, it just refuses to die. Or maybe it’s because, in some strange way, it feels like the kind of place where nothing matters. You can exist here without expectation, without judgment.  

But that doesn’t mean you have to stay.  

With a final glance toward the flashing lights inside, you sigh. Time to get out of here—before the floor caves in or the ceiling fan that’s barely hanging on finally falls and takes someone out.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair, already preparing yourself to leave when—  

“Hey.”  

You jolt so hard you nearly throw yourself over the damn railing.  

“Jesus—” You whip around, hand clutching your chest like that’s gonna stop your soul from trying to escape your body. The guy in the corner—formerly minding his own business, deeply invested in whatever serious phone call he was having—now stands a few feet away, looking far too amused for someone who just scared the life out of you.  

“Didn’t mean to freak you out,” he says, even though the smirk on his face suggests otherwise.  

“You did,” you deadpan, still willing your heartbeat to slow down. “Congratulations. Hope that was the highlight of your night.”  

He chuckles, sliding his phone into his pocket. “Eh, top five, at least.”  

You roll your eyes, exhaling sharply. “Right. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I was in the middle of having an existential crisis, so…”  

He raises a brow. “That serious, huh?”  

You glance back at the party inside—the flashing lights, the chaos, the bodies pressed too close together. Then back at the street below, quiet and empty, calling your name.  

“Something like that.”  

He doesn’t respond right away, just studies you for a second like he’s trying to piece you together. And honestly? You’re too tired to care what conclusions he’s coming to.  

“Then what’re you still doing here?” he finally asks, tilting his head slightly.  

Good question. One, you don’t quite have an answer to.  

Maybe you should leave. Maybe you really will this time. But for now, you just huff out a laugh, grab your drink from the railing, and take another slow sip.  

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

You didn’t know what to make of the dude other than the fact that he’s been out here with you for a while now. Long enough to feel like part of the scenery—like the railing, like the wind, like the streetlights casting long shadows below. But now that he’s talking, now that he’s close enough for you to get a good look at him, you realize something.  

He looks… off. 

Not in a bad way, necessarily, but in a way that makes your brain take a second longer to process him.  

Pale. Gaunt. Like he hasn’t slept in a week, maybe two. His dark brown hair is messy, almost like he forgot he had it, and his eyes—deep-set, sunken—hold an intensity that makes it impossible to tell if he’s actually looking at you or through you. He’s thin, wiry, all sharp angles beneath layers of tattered clothing that somehow manage to look effortlessly cool. 

Black-washed jeans, ripped just enough to make it look intentional, a T-shirt barely visible beneath a flannel, and a dark brown jacket that’s seen better days. Perched on his head, a pair of orange goggles sits like a misplaced artifact, out of place but somehow fitting him perfectly.  

Then there’s the grin. Wide. Unsettling. A little too knowing, like he’s in on some joke you haven’t heard yet. His teeth—crooked, sharp-looking—flash in the dim balcony light. Paired with his unblinking stare and the way he barely seems to stand still, it’s enough to make most people uneasy.  

But you? You just study him right back.  

“You checkin’ me out or trying to decide if I’m a serial killer?” His voice is rough, edged with something lazy and amused, the smirk on his lips deepening as he tilts his head slightly.  

You don’t even flinch. “Can’t it be both?”  

His laugh is sharp, quick. “Damn. That’s cold.”  

You shrug, taking another sip of your drink. “Just saying. You’ve got a look.”  

“A look?” He raises an eyebrow—well, what’s left of one. The slit cutting through it adds to the whole deranged but weirdly stylish vibe he’s got going on. “Elaborate.”  

You gesture vaguely at him. “You know. The I may or may not haunt abandoned gas stations look.”  

He barks out another laugh, dragging a hand through his messy hair. “That’s a new one. Not bad. Kinda poetic.”  

“Yeah, well,” you mutter, glancing back at the party inside. “Fits.”  

He watches you for a beat, then leans against the railing beside you, hands slipping into his pockets. The erratic energy he had earlier settles just a bit.  

“So, what’s your deal?” he asks, tilting his head again. “You’re out here looking all brooding and mysterious. Gotta say, if we’re going for aesthetic, you’ve got it locked down.”  

You scoff. “Says the guy with the mad scientist, but make it grunge fit.”  

He grins again, flashing those crooked teeth. “Touché.”  

Silence settles for a moment, but it’s not uncomfortable. Just the two of you leaning against the railing, breathing in the cool night air, letting the distant noise of the party fill the spaces between words.  

Finally, he speaks again. “You gonna leave?”  

You exhale slowly, swirling the liquid in your cup. “Dunno. Maybe.”  

He hums, rocking on his heels. “If you do, try not to get murdered on the way home. Bad way to end the night.”  

You smirk, side-eyeing him. “That a threat?”  

He laughs, shaking his head. “Nah. Just a friendly PSA.”  

For some reason, that makes you laugh, too. And maybe, just maybe, the night doesn’t feel as heavy anymore.

You swirl the last bit of your drink in your cup, watching the way the liquid catches the dim light before glancing back at the guy beside you. He’s still leaning against the railing, a smirk lingering at the corner of his mouth, but his fingers tap restlessly against his jacket, like he’s got too much energy to keep still. His gaze flickers toward you again, catching you staring.  

“What?” he drawls, eyebrow raising slightly.  

You tilt your head, eyes trailing over his face. “Your piercings.”  

His smirk widens. “Damn, if you wanted to check me out, you could’ve just said so.”  

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Relax... Just curious.”  

He chuckles but obliges, turning his head slightly so you can get a better look. Up close, they’re even more noticeable—two silver rings through his lip, a matching set in his eyebrow, slicing through the already-slit brow in a way that somehow makes him look even more chaotic. There’s something deliberate about it, though. Messy but intentional. Like everything about him is designed to make people do a double-take.  

“How many you got?” you ask, squinting slightly.  

He hums, tilting his head as if counting. “Double lip rings, double eyebrow… septum, too.” He gestures vaguely at the silver hoop in his nose. “Had a few more, but, y’know. Shit happens.”  

You nod, studying the way they catch the light. “They suit you.”  

He grins, crooked and toothy. “Damn right they do.”  

There’s something oddly comfortable about standing here, talking like this. The party behind you still rages on, but out here, it’s just the two of you, the night air, and the occasional rumble of a car passing below.  

“You from around here?” you ask, half out of curiosity, half just to keep the conversation going.  

He shrugs, gaze shifting toward the street. “Yeah. Kinda. Grew up a little ways out. Middle of nowhere.”  

“You got family here?”  

His fingers twitch against his jacket again, but he nods. “Used to have a mom and sister growing up. Just us three.”  

You don’t press, but he keeps going anyway, voice a little lighter, like he’s just saying whatever comes to mind.  

“Didn’t really have a lotta friends as a kid. Not the ‘fits in real well’ type, y’know?” He laughs, but there’s something dry about it. “Ended up homeschooled pretty early on.”  

You raise a brow. “Why?”  

Before he can answer, his body suddenly jolts, shoulders snapping upward in a sharp, involuntary motion. His head jerks to the side slightly, fingers twitching, and a small noise escapes him—quick, abrupt.  

You flinch. Just a little. Not on purpose, just out of instinct.  

His head turns toward you again, eyes unreadable for a moment. Then, as if he’s used to it, he gives a breathy chuckle. “Scare you?”  

You shake your head quickly. “No—well. Kinda. Wasn’t expecting it.”  

He shrugs, rolling his shoulders like he’s shaking it off. “Yeah, that happens.” He pauses, then sighs, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “I’ve got a disorder. Makes shit like that happen. Tics, muscle movements, sounds, all that fun stuff. Can’t really control it.”  

You blink, processing that. “Does it hurt?”  

He snorts. “Nah. Just annoying. Worse when I’m stressed or whatever.”  

You nod slowly, watching as he twitches again, fingers curling against his palm before relaxing. “That’s why you were homeschooled?”  

His jaw ticks for a second, and then he exhales. “Yeah. Public school wasn’t exactly fun when you twitch like a fuckin’ glitchy video game. Teachers thought I was doing it on purpose, kids thought it was hilarious, and, well. It got old real fast.”  

You frown. “Sounds like bullshit.”  

He lets out a sharp, quick laugh. “Yeah, welcome to my life.”  

For a moment, you don’t say anything, just leaning against the railing as the wind pushes strands of hair into your face. He doesn’t seem uncomfortable talking about it—just matter-of-fact, like it is what it is. But still, you can’t help but feel something about it.  

“You ever, like… wish you were different?” you ask, not sure why you’re even asking.  

He considers that for a second, then shakes his head. “Nah. People suck either way. Might as well be the way I am and make it work.”  

You smirk. “Fair enough.”  

There’s a brief pause before he tilts his head at you, his expression unreadable. Then, with that same sharp grin, he says, “You’re not bad, y’know that?”  

You raise a brow. “What, were you expecting me to be?”  

He laughs. “Dunno. Jury’s still out.” And for some reason, you find yourself laughing, too. That’s when he leans back slightly, stretching his arms behind his head. “Toby, by the way. Short for Tobias.”  

Your lips twitch, barely holding back a smirk. “Tobias?”  

His eyes narrow playfully. “Don’t start.”  

“Oh, I am starting. Tobias? That’s so—”  

He groans, tipping his head back. “Alright, damn, I knew this was a mistake.”  

You chuckle, crossing your arms. “Nah, I like it. Tobias,” you repeat, dragging it out just to mess with him. “Sounds very... proper. Distinguished.”  

“Distinguished my ass,” he scoffs, but there’s an amused glint in his eyes. “Alright, alright, what about you? What’s your name?”  

You share it, though you notice the way he repeats it back, like he’s trying it out on his tongue, testing the way it feels.    

He considers it for a second, then nods. “Yeah. Suits you.”

You show a small smile and swirl the last remnants of your drink, watching the way the liquid catches the dim light. “So,” you start, glancing at him, “do you go to uni around here? Or are you just crashing this party for the hell of it?”  

Toby snickers, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, technically? But not, like… in the ‘good student’ kinda way.”  

You narrow your eyes. “What’s that mean?”  

He leans in slightly, lowering his voice like he’s about to spill some deep, dark secret. “It means,” he drawls, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t snitch, yeah?”  

You blink, thrown off. “Snitch? On what?”  

He grins—sharp, a little too amused. Then, with the most casual ease, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a joint, rolling it between his fingers. “Let’s just say I’m not exactly here for the education.”  

You snort. “You’re selling? At a frat party? Jesus, that’s like the most obvious place to get caught.”  

“Exactly,” he says, flicking a lighter open with a clink—then pausing. He pats his pockets, frowning. “Shit. Left mine back at the house.”  

Without thinking, you reach into your own jacket and pull out your lighter, holding it out.  

He raises a brow, lips quirking. “Damn. Didn’t peg you for a smoker.”  

“I’m not,” you say, flicking it open for him. “More of a drinker.”  

Toby hums, lighting the joint and taking a slow, deep inhale before blowing the smoke out into the night air. “Fair. Drinking’s easier. Weed’s got a whole vibe, though.”  

You shake your head, leaning back against the railing. “Nah. If I’m gonna get wasted, I’d rather do it fast.”  

Toby smirks around the joint, then glances at you with something almost mischievous in his eyes. “You ever shotgun before?”  

You blink. “Shotgun? Like, a beer?”  

“Nah,” he says, stepping just a little closer, tilting his head. “Shotgunning. With weed.” He takes another hit, then gestures loosely. “One person takes a drag, blows the smoke into the other person’s mouth. Real smooth way to convert someone.”  

You stare at him for a second. “That’s a thing?”  

Toby grins, exhaling through his nose. “Oh yeah.”  

You sigh, swirling the last few drops of your drink before setting the bottle on the railing. The buzz in your head is nice, warm, just enough to take the edge off, but not enough to drown out the way the night still feels heavy on your shoulders. The way everything has felt heavy lately. 

Maybe that’s why you’re still standing out here, entertaining this conversation instead of making up some excuse to leave. Maybe that’s why, when Toby takes another slow drag from his joint, you catch yourself watching the way his lips part, the ember at the tip glowing faintly in the dark.  

Fuck it.  

You tilt your head, eyes half-lidded, tired but sharp. “Alright,” you murmur, voice low, almost lazy. “Let’s do it.”  

Toby pauses mid-inhale, blinking at you like he wasn’t actually expecting you to say yes. Then, his grin spreads slowly and crooked across his face, like you just made his night. “Oh? Thought you weren’t into smoking.”  

You shrug, licking your lips. “I’m not.” You shift slightly, stepping just a little closer, gaze flicking from his mouth to the joint and back again. “But I’m also kinda drunk and bored, so…”  

He huffs a laugh, tapping his fingers against the joint. “Fair enough.” Then, with no hesitation, he takes a long, deep pull, holding the smoke in his mouth before leaning in, bringing himself just inches from you.  

“C’mere,” he murmurs, voice smooth, inviting.  

You exhale slowly through your nose, then close the distance, tilting your chin up. His hand lifts, fingers grazing your jaw, tilting your face just right before he leans in closer, until his lips are barely a breath from yours. Then—he exhales.  

The smoke pours from his mouth to yours, curling between your parted lips, thick and heady. You inhale, slow and steady, the burn unfamiliar but not unpleasant, and for a split second, you don’t know if it’s the weed, the alcohol, or the way he’s looking at you, but the moment feels thick—charged. His eyes flicker down to your lips, lingering, and you feel your pulse spike just a little.  

You exhale, blowing the smoke out past him, your breath mingling in the cold air between you. “Not bad,” you mutter, licking the taste of it off your lips.  

Toby smirks, leaning back just slightly, but his eyes are still on you, dark and amused. “You look real good doing that, y’know.”  

You scoff, shaking your head. “You say that to all your customers?”  

“Nah,” he says, tapping the ash off the joint, gaze still steady on you. “Just the ones that make it look hot.”  

You don’t break eye contact, and neither does he. The world around you fades, just a hum of music and muffled voices, but it feels like you’re in your little bubble. You’re still leaning in close enough to feel his breath, the faintest warmth of it on your skin. 

For a second, it almost feels like you’re both suspended, not really here, not really there, just caught somewhere in between. 

Toby tilts his head slightly, a glint of something almost mischievous in his eyes. “You sure you don’t want another hit?”  

You raise an eyebrow, your lips curling into something just shy of a smile. “I’m good,” you say, voice steady, though your pulse is a little too fast, a little too loud in your ears.  

He shrugs, pulling the joint away from his lips and holding it out to you. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”  

You lean in a little closer, just enough for your shoulders to brush, and for a split second, there’s that spark again. Something in his eyes shifts, something deeper—an almost flickering challenge. “You’re cocky, aren’t you?”  

He looks down at you, a small, crooked smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe.” He taps his fingers lightly against the side of his jacket, his other hand still holding the joint between his fingers. “But cocky’s fun, don’t you think?”  

The words hang between you, the moment stretching. 

He’s close. 

Too close, but somehow, it doesn’t feel too much. And for a split second, you forget why you came out here. Forget about all the noise, the chaos of the party inside, the fact that you should probably be making your exit.  

Maybe you just want to stay here for a second longer, where the world is quieter. Where it’s just you, him, and the cool night air.  

The joint is still in his hand, the ember glowing faintly in the dim light. He lifts it again, but this time, instead of offering it to you, he holds it up between you, right in your line of sight. “You don’t gotta take another hit, but...” He leans in, his voice dipping low, more playful now. “How about a little more fun?”  

Your brows furrow, and you tilt your head, lips just curling with curiosity. “What do you mean by that?”  

“Shotgunning,” he repeats, voice light but with a dangerous edge to it, almost teasing. He flicks his eyes down to your lips again before looking back up at you. “But this time... I’ll let you call the shots.”  

There’s something undeniably bold about the way he says it, about the way his fingers graze your wrist lightly as he holds the joint between you. You could back off. Step away. Act like it’s no big deal. But the way he’s looking at you makes your heart skip a beat, makes that little voice in your head scream fuck it.  

So, without thinking, you nod. “Fine. Let’s do it.”  

He grins, his eyes lighting up with something between amusement and approval. “I like that. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”  

You can’t help but laugh softly, the sound mixing with the music still booming behind you. “You sure about that?”  

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he moves in closer, just enough for his breath to fan across your face before he places the joint between your lips, his fingers brushing against your skin. You lean into the contact, your pulse picking up. His lips hover just barely above yours, and for a moment, you think he might kiss you—but he pulls back instead, exhaling slowly into the space between you.  

The smoke fills the air, surrounding you in a cloud thick enough to make you dizzy, your body sinking deeper into the moment, feeling all kinds of electric, like you’re both too aware of the tension buzzing between you. You inhale the smoke, pulling it into your lungs. It’s harsh, but your body adapts.  

When you finally exhale, Toby is watching you closely, his smirk now gone, replaced with something far more intense. “You’re good at this,” he says quietly, his voice almost a whisper in the night air. “You ever do this with anyone before?”  

You shake your head, voice low and steady. “No. First time for everything, right?”  

He chuckles, but there’s a sharpness to it. “That’s what they say.” He leans back, finally pulling the joint from his mouth, the glow dimming as he exhales the smoke. “You’ve got guts. I respect that.”  

You give him a slight, teasing smile. “Respect doesn’t mean much at a frat party, though.”  

Toby tilts his head, his smirk returning, but it’s a little more dangerous now. “Maybe. But I think we’re having a pretty good time, don’t you?”  

You don’t answer immediately. Instead, you just look at him, feeling the weight of the moment, the way the night’s still lingering between you two like something neither of you want to admit out loud. You can feel the air crackling with a kind of dangerous fun, and you know—you’re not about to walk away from this anytime soon.

The air between you and Toby is thick with unspoken tension, his eyes flickering to your lips for a moment, then back to your eyes, as if waiting for something, daring you to make the first move. You stare back at him, the weight of his gaze making your pulse race, but you’re not about to let him off that easily.  

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” he teases, his voice a smooth, low drawl. “Did I break you already?”  

You roll your eyes, stepping back a little. “Please. I’m just trying to figure out if you’re a guy who talks big or if you can actually back it up.”  

Toby laughs softly, the sound vibrating through the air between you. “I back up everything I say.”  

“Oh really?” You arch an eyebrow, keeping your stance cool and unbothered. “Then prove it.”  

A shift passes through him, a flash of something dangerous and playful all at once. Before you can react, he steps forward, his movements fast, almost too quick. Before you know it, you’re backed up against the cold wooden railing of the balcony, your hands instinctively gripping the edge as he pins you there with just enough force to make your heart skip a beat.  

“Wha—” You cut yourself off, taken by surprise, eyes wide.  

Toby’s face is inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin. His hands are on either side of you, not touching you, but close enough to feel the heat radiating from his fingertips. His gaze drops to your lips again, then back to your eyes, a challenge in his smirk.  

“Maybe you should be careful what you wish for,” he murmurs, his voice suddenly softer, almost dangerous. “You sure you wanna play with me like this?”  

You laugh, though it comes out breathless, feeling the adrenaline rush in your veins. “I didn’t ask you to pin me, but hey, guess this is what you meant by ‘proving it,’ huh?”  

He grins wider, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Mhm.” But then, the teasing in his voice falters just a little, and something shifts. He leans in a little closer, close enough that you can feel the tension building between you. “You don’t really get it, do you?”  

“What, that you’re just another bad boy with an attitude?” You quip, trying to keep the mood light, but you can feel your chest tightening, your breath hitching in your throat.  

Toby chuckles darkly, but it’s not mocking—this time, there’s something different behind it. “Nah. You’re not wrong, but that’s not what I mean. What I mean is…” He pauses, eyes flashing as he watches you carefully. He leans even closer, just barely touching your arm with his, and you feel the electricity run through you, like he’s teasing you, daring you to break first. “I’m not the type to let things go without finishing them. And that includes… whatever this is.”  

You take a breath—your heart racing. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol, the weed, or just the way he’s looking at you right now, but the tension is practically suffocating. You can feel him leaning in, tempting, his lips just barely brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers, “You think I’m just gonna let you walk away after that?”  

You should pull away. 

You should walk back inside and call it a night. 

But you don’t. 

You stay there, leaning back against the railing, watching him carefully, breathing in the same air, the same heat, the same anticipation.  

And then, without thinking, you lean up just a little, your face hovering dangerously close to his. “I think you might surprise me,” you murmur, your voice low, teasing, but there’s a challenge in it now.  

Toby’s eyes flash, his gaze burning into yours, and you feel the pull between you intensify. But before either of you can make the first move, the world around you shifts again.  

His hand is on the railing beside you, his body leaning just a little closer, but suddenly, there’s this split second of hesitation in his eyes. His lips part, and for the first time tonight, he looks unsure.  

“You’re not scared, are you?” You whisper, leaning in just a little more, watching the way his lips twitch.  

Toby’s chest rises and falls with a deep breath, and for a moment, you see it—the tension in his body, the war within him between wanting to give in to that dangerous impulse and knowing there’s a line that’s too far to cross.  

Then, with a sharp exhale, he pulls back slightly, running a hand through his messy hair, the motion almost like he’s trying to shake off whatever just happened. “You think I’m scared?”  

You smile, watching him carefully. “I don’t know, are you?”  

He grins, though it’s not nearly as playful as before. It’s something else, something that says he’s not backing down, but maybe he’s not quite ready for whatever happens next, either.  

“Nah,” he says, leaning back just enough to give you space, but his gaze is still heavy, still burning with something almost dangerous. “I’m not scared.”  

You both stand there for a second, caught in the lingering heat of the moment, neither of you speaking, but the air feels thick with the possibility of something that might happen if either of you makes the wrong move.  

And neither of you know what’s next. 

The tension between you and Toby has stretched taut, like an elastic band about to snap. You can’t help the way your body leans instinctively toward him, and as if on cue, he leans in just a fraction closer. 

The space between you has shrunk to nothing, leaving only the thundering of your heartbeat in your ears. His breath ghosts across your lips, warm and steady, and for a moment, the whole world around you disappears—the thumping music, the chatter from inside, even the cool night air that brushes against your skin. 

It’s just him, so close you can feel the pulse of his energy, his presence like a current that pulls you in deeper.

You’re completely caught in the moment, every nerve in your body humming with anticipation, when his hand suddenly finds your waist, fingers pressing against the fabric of your dress. 

The heat of his palm sears through the thin material, his touch gentle at first, almost hesitant—as if waiting for a sign. But then, the pressure intensifies. His grip tightens, dragging you closer to him, the movement swift and sure, until your body is flush against his.

Now, you feel everything. 

The hard planes of his chest, the quick beat of his heart that matches your frantic pulse. But it’s the sensation of his lips that gets you the most—his pierced lips brushing against yours, the slight click of metal against metal. 

You can feel the cool weight of his lip rings as they press softly against your mouth, a contrast to the heat of his skin beneath them. Each breath you take mixes with his; his lips barely brush yours, sending sparks through your veins. The sensation of those piercings, a gentle reminder of the tension that’s been building between you, makes your pulse quicken even more.  

Your heart is pounding so hard it feels like it’s going to burst through your ribs, but you don’t move away. You inch closer, your lips almost brushing as you finally let your eyes fall shut. 

And that’s when Toby makes the move.

He closes the space between you, tilting his head just enough so that his lips crash into yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. It’s messy at first, neither of you quite in sync, but the desperation of it is overwhelming. His hand on your waist pulls you tighter, your chest pressed flush against his, the way his fingers dig into your skin making a fire run through your veins. 

His other hand cups your face, pulling you even closer, his thumb tracing the edge of your jawline, before his lips find yours again, this time with more certainty.

You respond without hesitation, your own hands reaching up, tangling in his hair, fingers scraping lightly against his scalp. It’s frantic, wild—like neither of you wants to stop, even though you both know it’s almost too much, too fast. His lips are soft but hungry, and the feeling of his breath against your mouth, the pulse of his body under your hands, drives you crazy. He pulls you even closer until there’s no space between you left at all, and for a moment, you feel like you’re melting into him.

His hand moves down your back, tracing the curve of your spine, and you can feel his body shifting against yours, more attuned now, his movements smoother, as if he’s figuring out the rhythm between the two of you. He pulls you closer still, his grip on your waist firm, but careful—he’s holding you there but not letting you fall. You can feel the tension in his body, the way it shakes under the intensity of the kiss, and for a moment, it feels like time itself stops.

But then, he pulls back just slightly, his lips still lingering on yours, his forehead resting gently against yours as he catches his breath. His hand on your waist softens, his thumb tracing little circles against your skin. There’s a grin on his face when you open your eyes, the hint of mischief and satisfaction in it, but there’s something else, too. Something softer.  

“That was... unexpected,” he says, his voice rough, his lips swollen from the kiss.  

You smile, your heart still racing, and before you can stop yourself, you laugh softly. “You think?” You’re breathless, a little dazed, but that feeling of heat isn’t going anywhere.  

Toby just shakes his head, a cocky grin forming on his lips. “You should be careful, you know. I can be a dangerous distraction.”  

You tilt your head, a teasing glint in your eyes. “I don’t mind a little danger.”  

His grin widens, and he pulls you closer again, his lips brushing yours once more, just barely, before he pulls back and whispers, “I think you like the danger, don't you?”  

The smirk he gives you is enough to make your stomach flip, and for the first time tonight, you feel like you’re actually in control of the situation. He’s looking at you like he’s waiting for something, lips barely brushing yours, making you ache for him to close the space. He’s teasing you, daring you with every second that passes, but now—now—it’s your turn.

Without thinking, you close the gap between you, pushing up on your toes just enough to press your lips firmly against his. It's a soft, slow kiss at first, just a gentle brush, but the second your lips touch his, you feel him stiffen, his breath hitching, and you can't help but grin against him. You pull back just enough to meet his eyes, watching his face for that split-second moment of confusion before he smirks, a wicked glint in his eyes.

“You make a good killer, you know that?” Toby murmurs, his voice low and teasing, as if he’s figured something out that you haven’t. 

You pull back slightly, furrowing your brow in confusion. “What?” You stare at him for a second, half lost in the buzz of the moment. “What the hell does that even mean?”  

He just grins wider, leaning closer again, his lips hovering near your ear. “You just know how to fuck with someone, don’t you? You keep them on edge, make them think you’re in control... I like it.” He pulls away just enough to give you a look that could melt steel. “Makes me wanna do something naughty with you out here.” 

Your stomach flutters at the word “naughty” as you tilt your head, leaning in with a sly smile. "Naughty, huh?" you tease, raising an eyebrow. "What, like throw me over the railing or something?"  

Toby’s eyes flicker with something dangerous and fun, and for a moment, he looks like he's actually considering it. Then, his grin curls back up, and he shakes his head. “Nah, not that reckless. But I’m sure we could find something equally interesting." His hand finds the back of your neck, pulling you in close again, the heat of his body overwhelming you. 

“I’m down for whatever,” you reply, your voice low, teasing, but laced with something more daring. You could feel him stiffen again, his breath catching as your words land, and you know you’ve pushed him right to the edge.

“Well," Toby breathed, lips brushing against your ear again, sending a shiver down your spine, "I think a little trouble in a frat house balcony could be exactly what we both need right now." 

You chuckle, the sound playful but daring. "What, just like that? You sure you can handle it?" 

Toby’s smile is all mischief now. “Oh, I can handle it. The question is—can you?” 

You feel the smirk spread across your face, the excitement of this new, strange, and slightly reckless vibe pulling you deeper into the moment. Toby’s hand is still resting lightly on the back of your neck, and his thumb traces small, lazy circles against your skin, a contrast to the tension in the air between you two. It’s like a silent dare now, like you both know exactly what’s coming, and yet, neither of you are willing to back down.

You look up at him, eyes sharp and playful, the lingering buzz of your earlier kiss still fresh on your lips. "I guess we’ll have to find out, won’t we?" you say, your voice barely above a whisper, like you’re sharing a secret no one else is supposed to hear. 

Toby raises an eyebrow, the corner of his lips curling upward. He leans in just enough that you feel the heat radiating off him, the way his body is still taut with energy, ready to make a move. “I’d say you make the first move, but I think you’re already way ahead of me.” His voice drops, getting even lower, almost conspiratorial. “You’re killing me right now, y’know that?”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound light and carefree, as if you’re both suddenly in on some twisted little game. "Yeah, well, you had it coming," you reply, your eyes flicking from his lips to the dark smirk on his face.

Before he can respond, you take a step back, making the deliberate choice to break the tension between you—just enough to give him a taste of his own medicine. You casually lean against the balcony railing, your fingers grazing the cool wood, as you look up at the stars for a moment, letting the cool night air settle over you.

But Toby isn’t backing off. You can feel his presence behind you, the way his gaze never leaves you. The next thing you know, you feel him step up behind you, his body pressing against yours in a way that makes your breath catch. His hand slides over the railing, right next to yours, almost like he’s claiming his space in your little world. 

“I thought you said you liked danger?” His voice is thick with challenge now, a note of amusement threading through the words. “You sure you’re not regretting that little move you made earlier?”

You turn your head slightly, meeting his gaze over your shoulder, and the look in his eyes makes your pulse spike again. There's an intensity there, the same unrelenting intensity that’s been building all night, and it’s clear you’re both on the verge of something that might take you somewhere you didn’t expect.

"I don’t regret shit," you say, your voice steady but carrying that edge of flirtation. "And if you're smart, neither will you."

His grin grows, something darker flickering in his eyes as he leans even closer, his lips grazing your ear as he whispers, “Then let’s find out how far this can go… before we both regret it.”

You’re both too close now, and the space between you becomes a silent promise. His lips brush against your ear, the sensation sending a wave of heat rushing through your body. The night, the party, the chaos all fade into the background as your mind fixates on the moment, on the unspoken agreement between you two.

You could walk away, pretend like this was all just a stupid flirtation—but you’re not ready to. 

Not yet. 

Something about Toby, about the fire that’s been burning between you since the first kiss, pulls you in like gravity.

Before you can even think, you’re turning around, moving into him again, your lips finding his with a fierceness that surprises you both. His hands are at your waist, pulling you in, and for a moment, everything else disappears. It’s just him and you, bodies pressing against each other, the intensity of it all turning your head to mush.

Toby’s grip tightens on your waist, pulling you in even closer, and for a second, you almost think you might lose balance as his body presses against yours. But his attention shifts, and you feel him start to trail his lips down your jaw, his breath hot against your skin as his lips graze the sensitive curve of your neck. The sensation sends a wave of shivers down your spine, your breath catching as you try to process what’s happening.

Before you can react, his teeth nip at the soft skin of your neck, just enough to sting but not too much to hurt. You gasp, a surprised laugh escaping you, but before you can say anything, he pulls back just enough to look at you with a wild grin, eyes gleaming with something mischievous.

“You sure you can handle this?” His voice is a low, almost amused growl, the edges of it thick with the lingering haze of his intoxication.

You’re about to respond when, without warning, his mouth is back on you, this time sucking lightly on the sensitive skin of your neck, the bites turning into licks as his hand slips under the hem of your dress. Your heart races, and your body reacts before your mind does, your head tilting back to give him more access, the sensation turning from playful to something hotter, needier. 

It’s almost like everything’s moving in slow motion, but in the best way possible—each movement from him feels deliberate and intoxicating, and you can’t help but feel that rush of excitement that comes with giving in just a little more.

The air between you crackles with heat, your breath coming in short, uneven bursts as his lips leave your neck only for a second before returning with a little more pressure, his teeth grazing the skin as his tongue follows with a hot, hungry lick.

You gasp, feeling the unexpected heat of it flood your senses, and your hands grip the railing behind you, trying to steady yourself as the dizziness from the moment intensifies.

“F-Fuck,” you hear him mutter under his breath, and it’s clear he’s getting lost in the moment, high on the feeling of being this close to you. “You taste so damn g-good.” His voice is rough now, almost feral, and it makes your chest tighten with a mix of desire and thrill.

Before you can process it, his lips are back on yours, deeper this time, his tongue slipping past your lips with an urgency that has you scrambling to keep up. The kiss is messy and chaotic, but it’s exactly what both of you want right now. There’s no stopping it, no turning back. His hands roam lower, his fingers brushing against the soft curve of your thigh before sliding underneath the fabric of your dress. The sensation of his fingers against your skin is almost too much, and you can feel yourself leaning into him, just wanting more, needing more.

It’s only when you hear a distant laugh from the party, a burst of loud music drifting through the close balcony doors, that the reality of the situation hits you again. The world outside is still there, the frat party still rages on, but here—right here—it’s just the two of you, caught in something that’s starting to feel less like a game and more like an escape.

The next thing you know, Toby’s hands are under your thighs, and before you can even react, he lifts you effortlessly off the ground. You gasp, the sudden movement catching you off guard for a split second. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, holding onto him as your heart skips a beat, both from the surprise and the wild rush of adrenaline. 

Your eyes flick to the balcony’s edge, the dizzying height of the drop below making your stomach lurch. You freeze for a second, panic surging through you as your grip tightens around his shoulders. The thought of falling—of losing control—flashes through your mind, but Toby’s quick to steady you, his arms firm and secure around your body. 

The flicker of amusement in his eyes almost makes you want to punch him, but the smile playing on his lips tells you he’s enjoying every second of this. “You looked like you were gonna scream for a sec there,” he laughs softly, leaning in to kiss your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he holds you effortlessly against him. 

You let out a breath, more out of relief than anything else, before narrowing your eyes at him. “You think you’re funny?” you mutter, but there’s no real anger behind the words. If anything, you’re starting to get lost in the way his hands feel on you, the way his touch sends heat coursing through your body.

He grins wider, lowering you down onto the balcony railing, your legs still wrapped around him as he keeps you close, his grip never faltering. The cool night air brushes against your exposed skin as you sit on the edge, your body feeling vulnerable yet somehow more alive than ever.

Toby’s hand slides beneath the lace of your dress, his fingers skimming over your thigh in slow, deliberate movements. His touch is gentle at first, but it soon intensifies, the feeling of his fingertips against the soft fabric of your tights making you shiver. His eyes are fixed on you, studying your reactions as if he’s trying to read you like a book. 

"God, you're killing me," he murmurs, voice rough as his hand moves higher, rubbing over your thigh, pushing the fabric of your dress up just a little more. You feel the heat of his hand through the lace, and your body instinctively tenses, a mixture of pleasure and anticipation swirling inside you.

"You like that, don't you?" he says, his tone teasing, knowing exactly how to push your buttons. His fingers slip further under the lace, brushing against the smooth skin of your thigh, and you can feel the pressure building between you, a connection so strong it’s almost suffocating.

You don’t answer right away, not sure how to even put words to the feeling bubbling up inside of you. Instead, you just let out a shaky breath, your grip tightening around his neck, pulling him in closer as you press your lips against his, kissing him deeply, fiercely—making up for the tension you’ve both been holding onto all night. 

Toby responds immediately, his hands sliding further up your thigh, his fingers brushing against your skin with a new urgency. His lips are on yours again, hungry and demanding, as he holds you firmly against him, the world around you disappearing with every passing second.

You can feel his body heating up under your touch, the rapid rise and fall of his chest matching your own. His hands are everywhere, exploring the curve of your body with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

Toby watches you closely, his gaze intent, studying your every reaction. He knows he’s got you, and he’s more than willing to make you squirm a little bit before you give him exactly what he wants. 

He shifts slightly, his fingers tracing lightly along lace underwear, moving in slow, deliberate circles. The touch is soft at first, barely a graze, but it doesn’t stay that way for long before he moves them out of his way.

His two fingers increase their pressure, adding another, gradually rubbing up and down your clit, the sensation making you feel every inch of your skin tingle with anticipation. His touch is deceptively gentle, but you can tell from the way he’s looking at you that he’s playing with you—testing your limits.

With every pass of his fingers, he brings more heat, his touch becoming firmer, just enough to make your breath catch—feeling him drawing the tip of his finger back and forth and pressing his thumb over the shy pearl. Power and control danced on his face, gratification beaming on the brown haze of his glare as he manipulated you to his will.

You kept in the most sinful moans—not allowing it to break through your mouth to prevent others below the frat party from hearing. Spread wide open only for him, you shoved against the stroke of his hand and then choked over his forearm, riding his finger, clenching, pulsating desperately for release. 

You feel your heart thundering in your chest, the space between you and him narrowing with every passing second, the tension thickening until it’s almost unbearable.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, his voice low and coaxing, “I’m waiting.”

Toby leans back slightly, his eyes scanning you in a way that feels more predatory than appreciative. He’s got that smirk on his lips, like he knows exactly how much he’s getting under your skin. And if he’s being honest, he kinda enjoys it.

You look up at him, trying to steady yourself, but there’s something in his gaze that makes it hard to focus. His fingers suddenly move inside you, a subtle shift in pressure making you shiver under his touch, forcing your face into his shoulder. “You’ve been teasing me all night,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper now, “and now you’re not gonna answer? That’s not fair.”

You bite your lip, your body trembling from the mix of frustration and desire.  The way his fingers slowly move in and out of your, each touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake, it’s almost too much to handle. You slammed your eyes shut and bucked your hips, legs quaking as he skilfully curled his long, hard-working digit inside you and stroked all the right places. 

“You’re such a little mess, so tight for me…” he growls, his eyes flicking down to your dress, the way it clings to your skin. “…I’m surprised you haven’t already fallen apart, acting like you don’t want this. You’ve been eyeing me all night—don’t pretend like you don’t need someone to fuck the attitude out of you.”

The words are sharp, venomous even, and they hit harder than you want to admit. But there’s something in the way he says it—something like a challenge. It’s almost like he wants you to fight back, to prove that you’re not just another girl who’s going to let him get away with everything.

But you don’t back down. You narrow your eyes at him, lips curling into a defiant smile, even though your pulse is racing.

"Is that all you’ve got?" you retort, voice steady, though you can feel a sharp edge of annoyance creeping in. His words have already struck a nerve, but you're not about to let him see that. "Is that how you think you’re gonna get me to bend for you? Just call me a tease and hope I’ll fall for it?"

Toby grins, that cocky, self-satisfied grin, “Maybe…” like he’s just been handed the upper hand. There’s something undeniably infuriating—and yet, strangely enticing—about how he carries himself. Without a word, he lifted his hand, his three fingers coated with a thick, creamy layer.

You watch, transfixed, as he slowly brings his fingers to his lips, deliberately teasing you. He licks them clean, savoring every bit of your wetness, the way his tongue flicks over his fingers in that maddeningly slow motion. The sight of him is almost too much, and you can’t help but feel a rush of heat spread through your body.

You can’t tear your eyes away from him. 

The way he’s looking at you, the way he’s playing with your head, it makes everything feel ten times more intense. 

There’s something about the messiness of it all—the way he’s teasing and how everything feels so raw, so unpolished—that drives you wild. 

“Matter of fact…” Toby mumbles, his words a little slower as his body tenses for a moment, the muscles in his face twitching before he grins. His eyes gleam with a sudden spark of mischief, something darker slipping in. “Let’s change it up.”

Without warning, Toby forces you over the balcony railing—bending you over the edge of it and hands digging into your lower hips as he traps you between it and his body. 

You’re completely against him now, feeling the sudden pressure bulge agasint your ass catching you off guard. Your breath hitches, and your heart races. The space between you two feels dangerously small, and the night air seems colder now, but it only heightens the sensation of heat between your bodies.

The movement is rough; you feel the firm grip of his hands pushing your lace dress—just hands on your ass—quickly removing your underwear, making you shiver from the coolness of the outside air. He grins wider as his face is right next to your neck, letting a line of kisses you against your skin, biting at the sensitive skin, enough to make you shiver. He then begins to whisper in your ear. 

“Maybe bending you like this will make you listen.”

Your body trembles under the firm grip of his hands, a shudder rolling through you as the cool night air brushes against your flushed skin. The sharp contrast between the warmth of his touch and the chill of the balcony railing sends a wave of sensation through you, making you suck in a quiet breath. Your back presses against the wooden banister, the hard surface grounding you, but it does little to stop the way your pulse pounds in your throat.  

"What… are you—" The words catch in your throat, slipping away before you can fully voice them. Your mind is a whirlwind, caught between confusion, excitement, and the undeniable pull of something far more dangerous—the way his presence, his touch, his entire being coils around your senses like a vice.  

And then, the quiet sound of a zipper lowering reaches your ears. The realization of how far things are escalating makes your breath hitch, a sharp jolt of awareness cutting through the haze. But before you can react, the feeling of his lips grazing your neck—hot, teasing, sharp with the occasional scrape of his teeth—draws a quiet gasp from your lips.  

“W-wait,” you mumble, voice barely above a whisper, mindful of the fact that just beyond this balcony, the party is still raging. The pulse of the music thrums in the background, but it feels miles away compared to the intensity pressing against you.  

“The party is going on inside—what if someone comes—” You start, your voice faltering under the weight of the moment.  

Toby doesn’t give you the chance to finish. He chuckles, a low, knowing sound that rumbles against your skin as his lips graze your jawline. “What’s the matter?” he murmurs, voice dripping with amusement. “Don’t tell me you’re getting shy now.”  

His grip tightens slightly, grounding, teasing. “You wouldn’t have let me get this far if you didn’t want it.”  

The words send a fresh wave of heat through you, your body reacting before your mind can form a response. Your lips part slightly, but no words come out. It’s hard to think with him so close, the press of his body leaving little space for doubt. His hand, rough and warm, traces down your thigh, the light scrape of his fingertips against the lace of your dress making your skin prickle with anticipation.  

His thumb presses agsint your clit—just enough to make you shiver, the simple movement sending a spark straight through you. He watches, eyes flicking over your expression, drinking in every reaction with a crooked grin. “That’s what I thought,” he mutters, voice thick with satisfaction before his mouth now slightly parted into a curious grin.

“You better be on the pill,” he mutters, his voice low and unbothered, like he’s already got you figured out.  

Your breath catches, not just from his words but from everything—his touch, the press of his body, the way his fingers tease against your skin like he already owns every reaction. That smug tone, laced with amusement, does something worse than his hands ever could. It lights something deep in your chest, a slow burn that spreads through your veins, making it impossible to think straight.  

“I’m… I am,” you manage, though your voice is shaky, uneven. “But we’re still…”  

Still what? Still on a balcony where anyone could walk out? Still caught up in something that feels reckless, dangerous—like a bad idea wrapped up in the kind of temptation that makes your head spin? You try to grasp onto logic, try to force your mind to play catch-up, but it’s already slipping, unraveling under the weight of his heat, his presence.  

You shouldn’t be here. 

You shouldn’t be doing this. 

Drunk or high, you can’t even tell anymore, but it doesn’t change the fact that this should be the kind of thing you stop before it goes too far.  

But let’s be for real. You’re not stopping.  

No. There’s no way in hell you’re leaving this frat party without Toby fucking your brains out.  

He must see it, must read every thought flickering behind your eyes, because that grin only grows, a flash of teeth in the dim lighting. “You’re getting all breathy and desperate just from a little touch…” His voice is like velvet, dark amusement lacing every word. His fingers trail higher, deliberate and slow, dragging shivers in their wake.  

Toby pulled your hips until the head of his cock was prodding at your entrance and he sighed, mumbling  mumbling so quietly you almost didn't catch it, “And you’re gonna be good and keep quiet, right?” He asked, 

You shivered as his words hit you, your face reddening even more. "I..." You gasped softly when Toby finally pressed inside you with ease, a disgustingly wet sound filling the air. He groaned in your ear when he bottomed out, pulling you in hard by your waist as if he was desperate to get even deeper. 

If you had any lingering doubts left in that pretty little head of yours, they sure as hell weren’t there now. And if, by some miracle, you still had a shred of shame about the absolute spectacle you were making of yourself—getting railed by some guy you just met, on a damn frat house balcony, with a whole ass party raging behind you—well, the pure, mind-numbing ecstasy currently wrecking through your body must’ve knocked that shame clean out of you.

Toby’s cock stretched you perfectly, deeply, and you could feel him in your stomach as prominently as the butterflies. You thought his fingers reached deep, but this was on a whole different level. His frame leant over yours, and his breath was hot on your neck. You felt close to him now, closer than ever before, and that thought sent you right to heaven. 

He felt so good, so perfect, so right. 

It was everything you had imagined and once he started moving, fuck, it was so much more. 

“T-That's so good.” He chuckled slightly and then started to kiss your neck while slowly thrusting inside you. Each time he fucked into you, he took note of the moans barely left your mouth—it’s good that you listen.

“G-God, shit, oh my God, feels so good," Toby stammered in between shaky breaths, his voice light and barely audible over your noises and the sound of skin slapping against skin. 

You stared down at the mess of drunken idiots stumbling around below, completely unaware of the absolute shitshow happening just a few feet above their heads. You came out here for fresh air, maybe to sip your drink in peace, not to—well, not this.  

Your fingers curled around the wooden railing, nails digging into the worn-out surface like it might somehow ground you. Spoiler: It didn’t. Not with him behind you, making it real damn hard to focus on anything but the way he was ruining you in the best way possible.  

You were starting to adjust, getting used to the feeling—if that was even possible—but fuck, he knew exactly what he was doing. And of course he did. The bastard was enjoying this way too much.

You were straight-up whimpering now—pathetic little sounds slipping out whether you liked it or not. And as long as you kept this up? Yeah, sure, the balcony wasn’t made of glass—thank god for small mercies, but let’s be real—anyone walking past that door would 100% hear you two. 

No doubt about it.  

They’d hear every little gasp, every moan, every damn noise spilling out of your mouth, and they’d know exactly what was happening just beyond that door.  

And you know what? That should probably freak you out. Should make you wanna shut up, be careful, maybe even reconsider your life choices.  

But nope. Instead, it just made you even more turned on.

Toby’s hand tangled in your hair, fingertips grazing your scalp in a way that sent a mix of tingles and heat straight down your spine. He gave a teasing little pull, not enough to hurt—just enough to remind you who was in control here. His movements were rough, almost fast-paced—there was no mistaking his focus. When he pressed inside, he rolled his hips into you, pushing his cock in as deep as he could manage. He was reluctant to pull away, but when he did, the feeling of your cunt sucking him back in made him delirious. 

He was dragging this out. Because of course, he was.

“Shhh, shhh,” he cooed when you let a sound slip, his voice laced with amusement but making absolutely no effort to actually help your situation. “You were being so good for me, don’t start getting all loud now.”

And then—because he just had to—he leaned in, his breath hot against your skin before his teeth tugged at your earlobe. 

Toby definitely hadn’t expected his night to turn out like this. Random parties weren’t exactly his thing—hell, he’d only come to make a few deals and get the hell out. When he saw you step onto the balcony, he hadn’t thought much about it at first, too busy with his phone call to care. 

But the second that call ended? 

Yeah. That was different.

And, naturally, you wanted to talk to him. Because, of course, you did.

Thing was, his original plan? It had been simple—get a little fun out of you, maybe a quick makeout session, and call it a win. But considering he had aimed for kissing and now had you pressed up against this railing, looking at him like he was the only thing keeping you breathing? Yeah. His plan went way better than expected.

“F-Fuck—fuck you feel so good," Toby moaned when he pressed into you again, feeling your walls squeeze around his cock.

Everything he was waiting for finally became realized, and yet, there was still a part of him who wasn't fully satisfied. There was still a part of him who was desperate for more. He asked quietly, mostly to himself, "Why can't I get enough of you?" 

You were wondering about the same question. Why couldn't you get enough of him? You wanted more, you needed more. You wanted to plead for him to go faster, harder, deeper, louder, but when you opened your mouth, your thoughts were so scrambled that the only word you could think to say was, "More." 

Thankfully, Toby got the hint, and he picked up the pace. The whole desk shook as his hips began to snap forward faster and rougher, giving you the relief you had been searching for. You felt an overwhelming euphoria in your core each time he thrusted in. “Ahh..  please don't stop,” You cried out a little louder than you should have, already forgetting that he told you to quiet down.  

“T-Tell me," Toby choked out between gasps, his voice getting hoarse, "Tell me how good it feels to be bend over by me?”

“It feels good… so good… god, it... feels amazing..," You gasp out, just dazed out of your mind.

He let out a soft, breathy moan before nodding his head* "Mhm~ yeah?" 

He chuckled slightly at how dazed you were, his hands gripping onto your hips a little tighter.

"Then... tell me you're mine.” He said, his breath warm against your ear. He started moving a little bit faster, and a moan escaped his mouth before it was cut off by his biting his lip.

You breathe hitches. You can barely form a coherent thought with pleasure coursing through you, but somehow, she manages to speak through gasps and moans. "I-I'm yours... all yours..."

It wasn’t long before Toby abruptly pulled out of you, grabbing your waist and twisting you around until your legs were wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck to prevent falling. His mouth was on yours in an instant, your eyes fluttering closed as he kissed you sloppily. His lips felt just as soft as before, but this kiss was much rougher and messier, driven by a fever of desire. 

One of his hands gripped your waist firmly, keeping you steady against the balcony, while the other moved with a slow, deliberate touch, skimming your chest, sending waves of heat through you. The pressure of his hands was both grounding and electric, making it hard to focus as your pulse quickened in response.

"Close, so close," Toby stammered into your ear, his head dropping to the nape of your neck. His breath was hot, and loose strands of his hair tickled your skin. His thrusts were erratic as he began to lose his rhythm. 

“Please keep going, just like that," You pleaded, feeling your release coming closer as well. You brought your hand to the back of Toby’s head, feeling his soft hair beneath your fingers. Your legs around his back tightened as you pressed him closer to you. 

"Tell me more," Toby groaned, his voice thick with desire as his hand found yours, fingers wrapping around yours with a firm, almost desperate grip. The weight of his touch, his palm slick with sweat, sent a jolt through your body. He held your hand like he needed it—like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality in this moment. His fingers trembled slightly, betraying the control he usually had, and you couldn’t help but wonder... Was it just the rush, or did he need to hear it?  

You blinked, unsure if he was asking for more praise or if this was something deeper—something he craved. Maybe a little of both.  

"I—It's so good, Toby," you whispered, your breath catching as your body responded without warning. You didn’t think, didn’t need to, as your fingers slid into his hair, gripping it tightly, pulling him closer in a way that made him gasp. It felt like you were tugging at his very soul, your nails almost catching in the strands, and the soft tug made him exhale sharply.  

“Only you, Toby. You're the only one, please—don't stop,” you found yourself saying, breathless and almost frantic, as the need for him took over. It wasn’t just physical anymore; it was something more primal. You were lost in him, the two of you like fire and gasoline, a combination of desperation and want that tangled together seamlessly.  

His eyes flared with intensity, a silent challenge in them as they locked with yours. He didn’t need to say anything; his grip on your hand tightened, his breath heavy against your skin, and you both knew what came next. 

There was no turning back now.

You thought you could hold on for a few moments longer, but when Toby started chanting curse words under his breath, you knew you were done. He rolled his hips up, hitting that perfect spot in your stomach once more, and that was it. Waves of adrenaline mixed with pure pleasure washed over your entire body as you came around his cock, back arching and legs shaking.

Your breath catches in your throat, a mixture of gasps and soft whimpers spilling out as Toby’s movements drive you wild. The sensation overwhelms you, pulling every ounce of focus from your mind, leaving you only with the feeling of his touch. It’s almost too much—too fast, too intense—and you can’t help the cry that escapes you, his name leaving your lips in a desperate rush.

But before you can fully let the sound escape, his free hand moves swiftly, covering your mouth, his palm pressing firmly against you. You try to push against it, but he holds you in place, the tension between you building with every breath. The muffled sounds of your whines vibrate against his hand, a helpless sound that only fuels the storm of sensations crashing through you.

It’s a mix of pleasure and frustration, the way he has control over you, the way your body reacts even when your mind is trying to keep up. The heat between you two seems to grow with every second, and with every soft struggle and pleading shift of your body, Toby pulls you closer, testing your limits, enjoying the chaos he stirs.

Toby fucked you through your high, not giving you a moment to breathe. He melted in between the sound of your muffled cries, the feeling of your cunt pulsing around him, and the sight of your face twisted in pleasure. 

He stuttered, tumbling over his words, "I'm- fuck, I'm-" 

He groaned, unable to even get the words out before he felt his pleasure burst like a bubble. He shoved deep inside you one last time, giving you all of him as he fell apart. He held himself there as he came, making sure you were pumped with every last drop of him. 

Toby was straight-up wrecked, chest rising and falling like he’d just run a damn marathon. His breath came out heavy, uneven, like he was actually struggling to catch it. You were slumped against him, just as spent, your body warm and lax against his.  

Fuck. He couldn’t even remember the last time he felt this drained—in the best possible way.  

You were everything. 

More than he ever expected, more than he ever thought he’d get.  

He pressed a lazy, lingering kiss against your neck, then another against your jaw, slow and hazy, like he was savoring the moment before finally pulling out of you. His grip on you softened, and he let his hand slide from your mouth to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin with a surprising tenderness.  

“Good job,” he murmured, voice rough, breath still unsteady. His lips twitched into a smirk, but his eyes were softer now. “Knew you’d be good for me. You did so fucking good.”

Toby was still holding you close, your body warm and spent against his, when the shrill buzz of his phone cut through the heavy silence. He groaned, pressing his forehead against your shoulder for a second before fishing it out of his pocket. The screen lit up with a familiar name.  

He answered without even thinking, balancing the phone between his cheek and shoulder. “Yeah?” His voice was still rough, breath uneven.  

A deep, gruff voice rumbled through the speaker—Tim.  

"You did what I told you to do?"  

Toby stiffened, his fingers flexing slightly against your skin as his mind scrambled for an answer that didn’t involve—I just got ridiculously sidetracked making out with a random girl at the party. He licked his lips, throwing a quick glance at you as you caught your breath, and tried to sound nonchalant. “Yeah—uh, almost. Just handling some... extra business.”  

There was a beat of silence before Tim let out a heavy sigh. “Bullshit. I know when you’re lying. Don’t tell me you got distracted—again.”  

Toby rolled his eyes, already knowing there was no point in denying it. “I was handling it,” he grumbled.  

The static over the line crackled before another voice chimed in—Brian. “We’re coming to get you before the cops show up. Get your ass outside, now.”  

Toby barely had time to process that before the unmistakable glare of blue and red lights flooded the street below. A few distant shouts rang out, followed by the telltale sound of a police siren winding up.  

“Shit.” He hangs up, and his grip on you tightened instinctively, his entire body tensing as his eyes flicked from the street back to you. “The party’s over, sweetheart.”

Your stomach twisted as the flashing lights painted the street below in streaks of red and blue. You swallowed hard, your breath still uneven as you whispered, “Wait… what do we do?” Your voice wavered between concern and fear. “What about the cops?”  

Toby was already shifting, straightening up, adjusting his jacket, and making sure his jeans weren’t too obvious in their disheveled state. He shot you a look—one that was unusually serious despite the usual glint of mischief in his eyes.  

“You stay,” he said firmly, fingers brushing over your cheek briefly before he fixed your dress, smoothing the fabric down as if he had all the time in the world. “Act normal. Pretend like you’re just another drunk University  chick who had too much to drink. They won’t look twice at you.”  

You blinked at him, confused. “Wait—where the hell are you going?”  

He exhaled sharply, pulling his hoodie over his head before ruffling his messy brown hair, making it look even more chaotic. “I gotta go before they get me,” he muttered. “I sell here, remember?”  

Shit. You had forgotten. In the haze of alcohol, his teasing, his hands, and everything that had just happened between you two, it completely slipped your mind. If they caught him, it wouldn’t just be a slap on the wrist—it would be bad news.  

For a second, you were going to let him go, watching as he turned toward the balcony door, preparing to slip out into the chaos inside. But something in you rebelled against it. A sharp, instinctual refusal.  

Before you could stop yourself, your hand shot out, grabbing the back of his jacket and yanking him back toward you.  

Toby barely had time to react before he stumbled a step, his body pressing against yours again, your grip tight and desperate. He looked down at you, brows raised, lips parting slightly in surprise. “The hell—?”  

“You can’t just run out there like that,” you hissed, your fingers curling into his hoodie, refusing to let go. “What if they do see you? What if they’re already inside?”  

His jaw tensed for a moment, like he was trying to calculate his next move, but you saw it—the flicker of hesitation. Maybe he didn’t expect you to stop him.

Maybe he didn’t expect you to care.  

Toby let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You really don’t know when to let things go, huh?” His voice was amused, but his hand settled on your waist again, steadying you both.  

You held his stare, breath hitching slightly as the distant sounds of officers yelling orders reached your ears. “Not when it comes to this,” you murmured.

Toby stared at you for a second, something unreadable flashing behind his dark eyes. Then, before you could think or react, he was on you again. His lips crashed into yours, rough yet intoxicating, his fingers tightening on your waist as he pushed you back against the railing.    

Your body tensed at first, but only for a moment. The warmth of his breath against your skin, the press of his lips traveling down your jawline—it melted away any resistance. Toby was teasing, deliberate, but his intent was clear. He wanted to leave something behind, a mark, a reminder.    

His lips skimmed the sensitive spot beneath your ear, sending a shiver down your spine before he sucked harshly on the skin. You gasped, fingers gripping the fabric of his hoodie as he worked his way down, each kiss and bite searing into you like a brand. A selfish part of him wanted to take you with him, to leave proof of what had happened tonight—not for anyone else, just for himself. 

Only he would know he was the cause.    

You sighed as he moved lower, the feeling of his teeth grazing your collarbone making your knees weak. His hands—still warm, still possessive—kept you steady, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. But then, too soon, he pulled back, tilting his head to admire his work.    

Your arms stayed hooked around his neck, your body still pressed against his. Your skin tingled, a mess of scattered purples and deep bruises decorating your neck and collarbones. You knew they would be impossible to hide tomorrow.    

"There. Something for me and..." He smirked before dipping down again, stealing another kiss, slower this time, his lip piercings cold against your swollen lips. When he pulled away, his voice was lower, almost smug, “Something for me…”    

Before you could say anything, a sudden noise from below made both of you jolt. Flashing red and blue lights reflected against the building, and you could hear the distant, commanding shouts of officers pushing their way inside.    

Your heart pounded as you rushed to the railing, gripping the cold metal as you peered down. Cops were pouring into the house now, pushing past the drunken partygoers stumbling in confusion. 

You were about to turn back, to warn Toby—  

But he was gone.

Your stomach dropped. How the fuck did he move that fast?

Spinning around, you scanned the balcony, the shadows, but there was nothing. Just the ghost of his presence lingering on your skin, on your lips.    

A deep sense of unease crept over you as you rushed down the stairs. The whole house was in chaos, people pushing past each other, trying to slip out before the cops could start making arrests. The party was officially dead.    

The worst part? Someone had died inside.  

You barely caught wind of the hushed whispers as you made your way through the crowd. Someone had found a guy upstairs with a hatchet lodged in his back. Whoever called the cops had seen the body first. That sobered you up real fucking fast.  

Stepping out onto the front street, you pulled your phone from your pocket, fingers shaking slightly as you dialed one of your friends. No way in hell were you would walk back to the dorms alone after this.

As you stood there, the chill of the night settling in, something caught your eye.  

A figure stood just at the edge of the shadows, away from the flashing police lights. You almost didn’t recognize him at first, but then you saw the faint orange glow reflecting off the goggles perched on his head.  

Toby.  

He was watching you, partially obscured in the darkness, his lower face now hidden behind what looked like a mouth guard.  

The second you met his gaze, he lifted a hand, fingers wiggling in a lazy wave before he turned, disappearing into the night like a ghost. You stood frozen for a second, your heart pounding in your ears. “What the fuck just happened?” 

As you stood there, still processing everything, a sudden breeze swept under your dress, sending a shiver up your spine. 

That’s when you felt it. Or rather, I didn’t feel it.

Your eyes widened, a sudden wave of heat rushing to your face.    

That bastard.   

Your panties were gone.  

Your breath caught in your throat as realization sank in, your thighs pressing together instinctively. When the fuck had he taken them? You were just with him—there was no moment where—  

You wanted to die. Right there, right then.    

Meanwhile, down the street, Toby was already slipping into a black car parked in the shadows, the interior dimly lit by the dashboard glow.    

Tim was in the driver’s seat, arms crossed, while Brian sat in the passenger seat, his cold blue eyes flicking up as Toby climbed inside.

“Hey,” Toby greeted casually, as if he hadn’t just fled a crime scene and a party.    

“Don’t ‘hey’ me,” Tim snapped, his gruff voice dripping with irritation. “What the fuck took you so long? We were supposed to be out of there before the cops even got close.”    

Toby shrugged, slumping back against the seat. “Got a little sidetracked” he admitted, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips.    

Tim gave him a long, unimpressed stare. “Don’t tell me you were out there fucking some random chick at the party.”    

Toby, for once, didn’t deny it.    

Brian snorted. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, shaking his head.    

Toby just rolled his shoulders. “I did what I needed to do. Everything’s fine.”    

Tim muttered something under his breath before finally putting the car in drive, pulling away from the frat house as sirens wailed in the distance.    

As they sped off down the road, Toby leaned back, slipping a hand into his jacket pocket.    

A small, lacy piece of fabric met his fingertips, and he grinned to himself as he pulled it out just enough to see.    

Black lace panties.    

He chuckled, low and amused, rolling the fabric between his fingers before tucking them back away.    

At least he got to shotgun with a girl tonight.    

A pretty cool one, in fact.

[archonofthestars]

Quiet

In the quiet moments between missions, you help Boothill take care of himself and feel a little more human.

Characters: Boothill, Reader Insert (gender neutral) Tags: Boothill being soft and vulnerable, your relationship to him can be whatever you'd like to be (not specified)

A/N: My first HSR ficlet! And my first reader insert ficlet (on this blog, not in general). It's good to get back to my roots; the last time I really wrote reader insert was back in MCU's heydays.

Want to see me write something? Submit an ask!

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✧. ┊    

It’s a rare moment that Boothill allows himself to be quiet and still. It’s even rarer that he does so around another person.

The fact that you’re allowed to witness this is a testament to the years that you’ve worked together and the numerous times you’ve helped him, whether it’s tending to damage to his mechanical body or patching up injuries on the remaining human parts of him. Occasionally, you’ve also helped bail him out when he manages to get himself into trouble he can’t blast his way out of.

Normally, the cyborg greets your assistance with that devil-may-care grin and a "mighty fine thanks there, pardner," complete with a tip of his hat. But, sometimes, you’re instead given a weary smile and a soft apology when you constantly bemoan how he gets into trouble.

That’s how you know something’s different. And in these moments, you always do your best to respect the quiet and be a comforting presence to the loner Galaxy Ranger.

Right now, you currently have the quiet Boothill in front of you. Both of you are kneeling on the floor of a humble, one-bedroom safe house, somewhere in the cosmos. Dull gray metal patches cover Boothill’s arms, back and chest; they’re emergency patch ups to cover significant damage to his cyborg body. Dust, soot, and blood streak his human face and hair.

Carefully, you thread your fingers through the long mane of black-and-white hair. As you work your way down, knots bundle up against your knuckles, but you carefully take the time to detangle them. Even when the knots accidentally pull on his scalp, Boothill doesn’t say anything. He just tilts his head slightly as you murmur apologies, eyes closed in the dim light of the room.

It takes a considerable amount of time with how long his hair is, but once it’s detangled, you pull over a nearby wash bin of warm water and gently coax his head back into the water. The gears and pistons of his body whirr quietly as he follows your guidance. 

You lather your hands with shampoo and run them into his hair, working through the grime. Months of travel, fighting, living rough and Aeons-know-what-else dissolve into the water, turning it a dirty gray-brown color. You can literally feel his hair getting lighter and softer as the water gets darker.

After you feel like all the dirt is finally out of his hair, you grab a pitcher of clean, warm water and pour it down the length of his hair to coax the rest of shampoo and filth into the wash bin. Grabbing the conditioner, you again thread your fingers through his mane until it's shiny and smooth. One more pitcher of clean water rinses the conditioner out, leaving the Galaxy Ranger’s hair clean once more.

A well-worn brush replaces your fingers and you work carefully, starting from the bottom, teasing out any remaining snarls until you get all the way to his scalp. The end result leaves the black-and-white hair clean and soft for the first time in months.

As a final touch to your efforts, you section his hair off into three parts and begin loosely braiding it. One of your hair ties secures the end before you grab a cloth and begin wiping the dirt and blood from his face, coming to kneel in front of him.

It’s only then that his eyes open to look at you, simply watching you as you work. Once you’re done, you set the cloth down near the wash bin and sit next to him, content to enjoy the silence for as long as he needs.

“...thank you, darlin’,” he whispers after a moment. You smile and rest your shoulder against his.

“Always, cowboy.”

[cryingatwindermerepeaks]

Adiiii, hope you’re doing so so well!!

Could you write Pril & Ann in the flu episode?? Big April is still annoyed at Ann, but Little Pril just feels rubbish and wants hugs and comfort, even though she’s only recently started trusting Ann to care for her.

Regressuary day 15 … I enjoyed writing this so much !! I was a little nervous but ended up feeling ok :)

Cw: mentions of sickness, mentions of hospitals

Word count: 776

——————————

Ann couldn’t help but groan when she saw the help alarm for April’s room go off again. She’d been trying so hard not to be bothered by the girls teasing and prodding, but at the end of the day she was just an exhausted nurse who was done with being pushed around for the tiniest of mistakes. Reluctantly she made her way to the hospital room April was residing in, just because the request was going to be stupid and petty didn’t mean Ann wasn’t going to do her job. She expected April to be sitting in her bed with a scowl and a snippy attitude ready to throw at Ann. Instead she was greeted by the girl curled up under her covers, face pale and sweaty. She didn’t shoot a snarky comment to Ann, instead April wordlessly pointed to the large stuffed bear which had fallen on the ground beside her bed. Ann picked up the bear, shocked by the sudden change in demeanor from the younger girl. She realised quickly that when falling off April’s bed the bear had knocked over a glass of water and was now soaked in it. “Agatha,” April mumbled, making a grabby motion with her hand towards the bear.

“Oh baby bat,” Ann cooed, making an educated guess that the girl was regressed. “Agatha has had a little accident, we need to get her cleaned up.” April frowned, tears burning in her already glassy eyes. Ann gently placed the bear so it was sitting up to dry off.

“Nee’ her,” April whimpered. Ann’s heart shattered at the pleading in her small voice.

“Oh my poor girl, have you got Lilith or Ebony?” Ann asked, referring to April’s stuffed cat and bat stuffies. She nodded tearily, pointing to the backpack slumped on a chair in the corner of the room. “In there?” April nodded and Ann opened up the bag. She shuffled around for a moment past the clean clothes before finding both the plushies and April’s pacifier. “Ah, this will help won’t it,” Ann smiled, knowing how quickly the girl could be soothed by her pacifier. April whimpered, hiding her face behind her hand. “I’ll close the curtains so you can have some privacy bubba.”

Once April’s hospital bed was isolated from the rest of the hospital and any prying eyes the little reached for her pacifier and stuffies. Ann handed the stuffies to April, the dark haired girl quickly tucking one under both her arms. “If I let you have your paci you have to promise to let me wash it off frequently, there are lots of icky germs around at the moment.” April nodded eagerly and then Ann slipped the pacifier into the girl's mouth. “Alright, I’ll leave you to rest now but I’ll make sure no one else comes in here, ok?” April whined loudly, grabbing Ann’s hand and clutching it tightly.

“Mama,” she mumbled, keeping her eyes from meeting Ann’s as if she could deny the desperation she felt for comfort.

Ann sighed, she didn’t want to neglect her job but she also couldn’t leave April alone in such a state. “Oh baby bat, Mama’s working. But if you promise not to whine when I have to go and help someone else we can have cuddles for a little bit.”

April nodded eagerly, a slight smile creeping across her exhausted features. “Mama,” she mumbled around her pacifier. Ann slipped into the small hospital bed next to April, they barely fit but April curled her too-warm body up as close to Ann as she could and they made it work.

“You’re so warm, my poor baby,” Ann sighed. She gently brushed April’s damp hair behind her ears. “Have you been drinking your water?” April shook her head, no. Ann remembered the spilled water on the floor and sighed.

“‘S too hard without my sippy,” April groaned, resting her sweaty forehead against Ann’s shoulder with exhaustion.

“Did you bring a sippy?”

“Jus’ a bottle,” April frowned, she’d left in such a rush and had felt too sick to think through what little supplies she might need while she was in the hospital… half of her hadn’t expected to need any of it during her stay but the other half knew better than that.

“We can make that work,” Ann promised, rubbing her hand firmly against April’s aching back.

Ann found some cool apple juice and diluted it for April, knowing the younger girl would enjoy it more than plain water. She gave the girl her bottle whilst rocking her back and forth and for the first time in days April slipped into a comfortable and uninterrupted sleep.

[yeehawbvby]

Brink (Caleb x GN!Reader)

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Maybe you were being just a tad too bratty that day. Maybe Caleb saw you talking to someone attractive and got a bit jealous. Or, maybe Caleb just happened to feel like torturing you a little bit. Regardless of the cause, Caleb literally has you in the palm of his hand, and he refuses to give you the relief you need. Not yet.

Author’s Note: This is a short lil thing (wc: 637), but I had to get it out of my system. Figured that maybe posting it will give me some motivation to write more too :3

Give it some love on ao3!

“Easy there, pip.” Observing the death grip you had in his biceps, Caleb teased, his tone low in your ear, “We don’t need you breaking any fingers.”

You rolled your eyes. Neither of you could tell if it was more so from pleasure or annoyance. “Y-you know, hah—“ 

He cut you off, because of course he did, by curling and pumping just the way you liked it.

Through gritted teeth, you persevered, “I wouldn’t be doing this,” you pulsated your grip, “if you’d just give me what I — shit — w-what I want.”  

Caleb tutted at you. With a dangerous glint in his eyes and a playful grin on his lips, he muttered, taunted, “Still not satisfied, huh?” With a sigh, he went on, “I guess you always were pretty spoiled.”

At his words, you bit back a moan, glaring at him the best you could. Then, he leaned down, trailing kisses from your earlobe, to your cheek, and finally to the corner of your mouth, before hovering above it. Caleb had convinced himself in that moment that maybe, just maybe, he could get high off the feeling of your needy huffs against his tongue, or off swallowing your air like it was his oxygen.

“I’ll always give you anything you want, baby. Always.” He lowered his voice to a husky whisper, pulling away slightly as you tried to chase him for a kiss, “But sometimes I’m going to need you to work for it.” 

Seeing your lip quiver and your eyelids flutter shut, he once again changed tactics. He couldn’t have you cumming now, could he?

“Now tell me…” He pressed his forehead to yours and picked his pace back up once you seemed relaxed. “What do you want?”

“Want– mm,” you struggled, your voice ragged and airy, “wanna cum.”

”Alright, how do you want to cum? From my hands? My mouth? My cock?”

“O-oh for fuck’s sake— anything.”

Caleb laughed. Bastard... “Is that so?”

Your skin was sticky with sweat and your cheeks salty from tears, and Caleb’s breath against it all felt overstimulating in and of itself. You simply nodded your answer. 

His touch felt amazing — perfect, even — but it wasn’t enough. Each time Caleb felt you tense up, he’d slow down. Every time you whined and pleaded his name like it would be your last words, he’d lessen the pressure. Whenever you rutted your hips against his touch, he’d use his evol to restrain you. 

And every time you settled down, or tried to speak, or attempted to simply catch your fucking breath, he’d rev right back up just to spite you.

“Is that really all you want?” 

You nodded again. How long had he even been at this? How much longer would he keep you teetering on the edge? 

He couldn’t help himself as he taunted, “You’re an adult now. A hunter. Use your words.”

As much as you’d love to continue just being your bratty self, you were growing desperate. “Plea— please just let me cum, promise I’ll be good, fuck, please, Caleb.”

He made a show of pretending to think about it. You wanted to punch him. Instead, you dug your nails into his skin almost hoping to make him bleed. “Hmm…” He tilted his head. Smirked. Slowed almost to a halt, letting agony wash over you while he relished in the way you panted and squirmed.

You continued to whisper your pleas, your gaze boring into his. You wondered if it even mattered. You also wondered if maybe you could hypnotize him into throwing you a bone if you stared hard enough.

Caleb leaned back down, his lips grazed your ear, and you felt a jolt course through you as he got back to work. “No.” The word enticed a sob from your throat. “I don’t think I will.”

[cain-e-brookman]

Hey y'all, @creatingblackcharacters has created a challenge for Black History Month and I thought I'd share my entry. I'd like to tag @topazadine @illarian-rambling @mx-ryder and @spideronthesun for the challenge as well!

Uthyr is the main character of my current WIP: The Name, Witch. His is a story of healing, of putting down shame, and of being true to the spirit of what created you, no matter how the world wants you to bend. This is a scene that takes place about 10 years before we meet him in this same garden. Uthyr's greatest victory is always against despair. Uthyr's strength is in his conviction to himself, the culture and virtues that were passed onto him, and his love for the world around him. In my writing, I want my Black audience to see their own resilience in Uthyr. I want to highlight Black men in roles that are softer, but no less strong.

I also sincerely hope that this book can be a long shout out to my Black autistic sibs who are also obsessed with bugs, amphibians, and/or reptiles. I gave my hyperfixation to Uthyr, and I hope you feel seen with it as well. As I said in the comments to a very needed check, joy is just as important as resiliency, and I hope you find as much happiness as Uthyr does in with cold little buddies!

---

perhaps on the crest of each stiff blade of grass hangs the eternal name of someone who was once loved but is now vanished and just another name in an endless field of names that is newly remembered with each return trip of the eager nose...

-Hanif Abdurraqib from "The Crown Ain't Worth Much

The hydrangea bush to the north of his house was the first thing Uthyr put into the soil in his soon-to-be garden. An old witch tradition. The color of the flowers changed with the humors of the soil. Uthyr didn’t know which color he hoped for, just that it grew to be strong. He hoped the plant would grant him the same blessing.

The last thirty-some years of Uthyr’s life had left behind the cooled pyres of his family, and the last two since the death of his mother had left him adrift. The first, a long year where he’d traveled to nowhere in particular, stayed where he found place to stay, and searched desperately for a purpose. At the end of that long year, he realized, exuberantly, there was none. No end to rush to, no greater deed to be done. He would not be rewarded for suffering, would not reach some peak where it became all worth it. He would not find a purpose, nor would he make his own. He would, instead, simply live. Live brightly, now. Live fearlessly, now. He didn't know where he would go, but he knew where he would start.

He practiced his healing for the first time since his father died. A young girl had taken a fall in the small town in which he was staying. He'd gone to her without a thought, placed his hands around the break, and reached out where he knew the magic still laid. The feel of bone knitting beneath his fingers nearly had him in tears. He could hear his father’s warm, heavy voice as he worked:

Bone remembers its home, just not the way back. Remind it gently, and its journey will be painless.

The little girl hadn’t even cried. He’d pulled a dandelion seed that had stuck itself on his cloak and grew it into a miniature sun before placing it behind her ear for bravery. The Sun Goddess rarely answered his beckons for fire, and his stubbornness never won out over the Stone’s, but neither skill brought about the smiles of gratitude he’d seen in all his time healing. He wished it hadn’t taken him so long to appreciate that part of himself, that part of his father’s influence.

Then, after a long while of fighting with his own head, he finally chose himself. Two weeks in a temple to the God of the Golden Moon saw him leaving behind the word “daughter,” to be replaced with a name that held responsibility to no one but himself. Uthyr of the Asphodels, First of His Name. His mother’s now held nothing a burden of failure on his shoulders. He could have been better for her. Should have been better. But he could not make the dead proud, so he cast off the guilt. It no longer served either of them. 

He changed his hair. Spent a long day removing neat rows of braids from his head, combing and washing then rolling his hair like he’d seen his uncle do so many times. At the end of it all, he had sore arms and a deep satisfaction. The start of those locs still stuck oddly from his head in their awkward stage.

“Ugly stage,” his mother used to tease Uncle Callum when they recounted stories of their youth. His uncle would always raise an eyebrow and inform her in no uncertain terms that he’d never been ugly a day in his life. Uthyr planted snapdragons by his window for them both; their favorites. Yellow for his mom. Purple for his uncle. The seeds had been expensive for the paltry savings he’d kept from his brief stint of odd-job healing around the surrounding towns, but the memory of the two exchanging plants on their shared birthday had Uthyr lightening his coin purse without a second thought.

He continued with a few more plots around his house. A smattering of pansies for color, some herbs for healing, then some more for cooking… 

A single row of daffodils by his doorway. For his father. His birthday would be soon. Uthyr would cut one and light a candle. Pray the Death God pass on his love.

I’m alright, he’d tell his father. It’s hard and I’m tired, but it’s alright. I’ve got good soil under my feet and good hands to dig.

The anemones he planted on the shaded side of his house were for himself, though. They were delicate things, but right now so was his heart and that needed just as much care. He’d stay strong for them and they’d do the same for him. Water and sunlight. The start, his uncle would say, to any life worth living. 

And hope, Uthyr thought. Half of it was always hope.

When Uthyr finished for the day the sun was drawing long shadows across the forest floor. All but his pansies would not see color or flower for a long while, but as Uthyr dusted soil off the dark skin of his hands and forearms, he could already see the future it held. He would get some roses. Maybe not this year. He needed to plant his vegetable garden first. Maybe splurge on a fruit sapling. Tonight he would sit in his mostly empty home, cook a small pot of soup with ingredients from a garden that wasn’t his, and plan recipes for when his own produce grew. But as for now, he felt the waking breath of spring on his face, the softness of the grass under his legs as he dug his toes into the cool earth below him. 

A tentative peace was forming in his chest, walking haltingly like a newly born fawn. He’d found a creek not far from where he sat. He wondered if the tadpoles had yet grown legs.

---

And now, my excited rambling: the title of the poem before the cut is Notes On Waiting for the Dog to Find the Perfect Place to Take a Shit While Morning Cuts Through the Sky, Fresh From Another Darkness, which is quite possibly one of Abdurraqib's best titles and also a wonderful poem. I saw When I Say Loving Me Is Like Being a Chicago Bulls Fan posted on facebook at one point and I've been in love with his poetry since. The way he weaves pain and hope with his anger and his love in a way that criticizes a society that doesn't value himself or people like him, while celebrating his identity is both masterful and cutting. Listen to the man and buy his books! His essay collection, A Little Devil in America: In Praise of Black Performance is going to be my read for my essay collection square for the 2025 book bingo, and I'm really excited to finally get to it!

[ccorinthians]

I NEED a dally winston drabble of giving him a blowjob. BUT hes very rough 😈

a/n: this is so hot ty.. i didnt have much to work with here but i hope this was what you were looking for and if anyone else could send any more reqs id highly appreciate it! also maybe im too soft but its very impossible for me to write degrading smut so i tried my best

⋆ stop teasin' by @ccorinthians dallas winston drabble

"nah, swirl your tongue 'round it. gotta make me feel good." dallas mumbles, his head cocking to the side as his hands reach to caress your temple. there's a dim silence between you two, and the way his breathing gets progressively heavier with every pump of your hand, and the way you're working his mouth on him.

"like that," he groans out, rolling his hips into your stretched mouth. you gag silently, hands pushing on his thighs as you pull away in protest. he sucks his teeth when he feels the very abrupt, and cool air touch his skin. instead of checking on you, he shoves your head down to choke on him once more, a glare in his eyes as he stares down at you.

dallas is panting by the second time you pull away from him, but that's good enough for him. you sit there staring at him while he catches his breath. his hands twirl strands of your hair before pressing your tight lips against his cock once more, eyebrows furrowing in the process.

"who and what made you think you could stop, huh? i already told ya, jus' make me feel good." he pulls on your curls roughly, causing a whimper to escape. "dunno why i ever took a likin' to you.. shit, you don't even listen." he says, attempting to rub the tip of his dick over your mouth.

you pull off him just before the tip touches your lips, letting a few drops slip down the slit. he groans, eyes fluttering shut as he leans to rest on his elblws. "damnnit, d'ya really like teasin' me or something?"

you give him a coy smile, licking your lips quickly and taking him again, this time sucking, fully. you can feel him squirm slightly under your grasp, you can feel the vibrations of his muscles pulsing under you and the way his knuckles crack as he grips the back of your head. all of this runs a shiver down your spine.

"justa lil' more, doll.." he mumbles, his voice ragged. and like he said, it didn't take long before he finished, thick liquid spilling down your throat.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

MAKE ME WRITE ASK

@inell I accidentally copied the wrong answer into your 1k for 🔼 - SORRY! Here is a panicked 900 words instead.

---

“I have to go actually. Um, if you could… I mean, this doesn’t need to go beyond us, right?” 

“Maddie, you’re putting me in a really weird position,” Shannon says.

“Okay, uh…” There’s genuine panic in Maddie’s voice. “I’ll talk to you later, Shannon.” 

The call ends. 

“What the hell?” Shannon whispers at her phone. 

▶️

After their shift, Eddie heads home. Buck heads to Maddie and Chim’s. 

To tell the truth, Eddie is nervous about it. He doesn’t know if he sees the point of Buck enduring a second dinner with those people. If Buck’s account is accurate, they didn’t even give him a chance. They treated Jane like she was something shameful. Which, honestly? Eddie doesn’t give a single fuck about what Buck’s parents - strangers to him and to Buck - think about his daughter. But he cares that, if Buck actually did have a baby of his own, that’s how they’d treat their own grandchild. That’s pretty fucked up. 

Overall, Eddie’s just worried. He doesn’t think Buck needs this, and he’s protective. That’s all. 

He picks Chris up from school on his way back to the house. Chris is fascinated by Eddie’s story of the guy who wanted to blow up an office building today. Kind of a crazy thing to find entertaining, but Eddie supposes it’s his fault for telling him. 

When they walk through the front door, Shannon is waiting for him. She looks stressed. Eddie wonders if the application process didn’t go well. She says hi to Chris, then he goes off to unpack his bag. Once he’s gone, she looks to Eddie.

“Buck went to dinner?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Not sure why, but he did.”

“Damn,” Shannon whispers. 

“What? Why?” Eddie asks. 

“Maddie called me earlier,” Shannon says. “Uh, I don’t really know what’s going on, but… But I have some concerns.”

🔼

Dinner, take two, is actually worse. Maybe all the fuss about Jane had been a good shield. 

Buck is already frustrated. He’s already been assured, by Shannon and Eddie, that the way they treated him wasn’t fair. That he deserves better. That he doesn’t owe anyone anything, if he can’t be treated with basic decency. The point is, he’s already sort of worked up by the time his father says something fucking stupid. 

“It still seems risky. I mean, from what I hear, Evan has spent quite a lot of time in hospitals,” Phillip says, about their jobs. 

And yeah, okay. It is a risky job. But it’s also the thing that makes Buck feel like he matters. Like he does something good. And they’ve never expressed any concerns before…

“From what you hear?” Buck echoes. 

Everyone looks at him. Maddie sighs, like she knows dinner is ruined now. Like Buck has spoiled everything. 

“‘Cause you could have come,” he adds. “Seen for yourself.”

But they don’t care. They do not care at all. 

His mother takes offense to this suggestion, though. Like it’s a personal attack on her. 

“Evan, I’ve told you-”

“You, uh, you’re not good with hospitals,” he finishes for her. “I got it.”

“I’m not good at seeing my children in them.” She rebuts, eyes watering. “You don’t know.”

Uh, no? He doesn’t? Because she never comes? 

“Mom, mom,” Maddie shakes her head. 

Buck looks between them. Some sort of understanding occurs in their look. Something that leaves Buck on the outside. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t trust it. And more importantly, it’s not what he and Maddie agreed on. 

“I’m fine,” Margaret says, taking a shaky breath. “I’m ready for dessert.”

Buck’s jaw tenses. He’s suspicious. 

“Oh, Howard,” Phillip interjects. “Where’d you put that box we brought?”

“Dad, more gifts?” Maddie bemoans. 

“Not exactly,” Phillip assures her. 

“It’s over by the couch,” Chim says, hopping out of his chair. “Let me grab it.”

He hurries out of the kitchen to fetch whatever Buck’s parents brought. 

“I like him, Maddie,” Margaret says once Chim is out of earshot. 

“Me too,” Maddie smiles. 

“You picked a good one this time,” their mother continues. 

“Mom,” Buck glares at her. 

“It was a compliment, Evan. Maybe if you bothered to introduce us to the woman you’re seeing, we’d compliment her, too.”

Yeah. Not going to happen.

“Oh, I’m good,” Buck says.

“Ugh,” she sighs, exasperated.

Chim returns with a beautiful, handcrafted wooden box and sets it down on the dinner table. Maddie’s name is carved on the lid.

“Your baby box,” their mother explains. 

Wow. That’s sort of sweet actually. 

“I thought you might wanna pass on some of these things to your little girl someday,” she continues as Maddie opens the box. 

“Aw,” Chim beams. 

Buck moves to look at the contents. All the little mementos of Maddie’s infancy and childhood. As though she had kind and attentive parents. 

“Oh, this is so cool,” Buck says, pleasantly surprised.  “I didn’t know you made these for us.”

He wonders if Shannon and Eddie - or, Shannon, he supposes - did this for Chris. He doesn’t think he’s seen anything like it for Jane.

“When do I get mine?” Buck asks.

His parents look at each other. They look nervous. Uncomfortable. Neither of them answers. 

Oh.

They only did this for Maddie. 

“Hey, you’re not even a grown up yet,” Chim teases, clapping him on the back. “They’re probably still adding stuff to it.”

But they’re not. Buck knows they’re not. 

[kaciidubs]

I wanna write something real self indulgent because I'm tired and I deserve it, but also... maybe it's fine just living rent free in my head