#but i never really stick to that very long

[boyfhee]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗜𝗢𝗨𝗦ㅤㅤ sim jaeyun

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝗦𝗖𝗥𝓲𝗣𝗧───𝗃𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖽𝗈 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖿𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌.

❪ 5O1O ❫ ｡ jake 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋 𝑖𝑛 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖿𝗂𝗍𝗌 ✿ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ! making out, explicit sex, fingering, oral ( f ! receiving ), car sex, jake is a little crazy

﹙◜ᴗ⁠◝⁠﹚ first and last time writing smut, this was so stressful >< please be nice. the plot is silly .. jake is silly erm anyway a big big thanks to casey my baef for reviewing this or i would have never posted. happy reading !

OO1 I WANT YOU

jake first bumped into you during one of the university competitions. you both were volunteering for different contests, running around, and he quite literally bumped into you. apologies spun in the air and you were quick to brush it off, maybe because you were busy. it occured to him that you are very pretty.

second time, it was at the congratulatory dinner with the winners exactly two weeks later. you were incredibly happy, pouring drinks and helping others and he was incredibly curious.

third time, well— you were already in his bed. wasted, tired, satisfied, and it’s a scene that’s burned into his mind.

numbers were exchanged, you both agreed on fridays. although, it barely only stayed limited to fridays. you started calling him after your long and tiring labs and he would want a taste of you after his football coach would get on his nerves again.

the first time he was in your bed would be today. he offered to drive you back and you pulled him closer by his collar in the elevator.

you’re pretty sure you’ve made a mess out of your apartment while bumping into things and making your way inside. it doesn’t really matter though. with jake, every mess leads to something good.

“oh, jake!” you moan as he thrusts into you, arms on either side of your head. sex with jake was incredible. he was caring, despite having his long dick in your tight hole, despite teasing you till he had his fill before filling you up.

he fucks you nice and gentle and his eyes never leave your face, wanting to see every single expression, to watch you as you let out the sweetest, most alluring sounds.

“you close, angel?” he grunts as he fucks you slow and deep, with so much passion. you are a wanton mess and he can only chuckle at the muddle he has made out of you, leaving you speechless and fucked to the point you are only nodding furiously, digging your nails into him.

he can see the sweat on your forehead, making your baby hairs stick to your skin. he can feel you clenching around him— you’re still so tight after he has fucked you so many times.

he kisses your neck, right above your pulse, whispering in his low yet sugary voice as he pulls all out before inching all the way inside the very next moment. “come for me, doll,”

your eyes flutter shut as he pushes into you deeper, one hand finding its way to your clit as he elevates your pleasure.

you look unreal with moonlight reflecting off your skin. he is thanking the universe for making the power go out tonight because you look breath taking, and you have taken his breath away.

his tongue runs over your lips and then into your mouth and your moans echo through his mouth when he begins to kiss you slowly. you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. “g-gonna cum, jaeyun. . .”

“i know,” he breaths, feeling himself getting closer. he can feel it more than before when he glazes down at your body, all weak and hot, all because of him. it’s like a switch turning on in you when he looks at you like you belong here, and you come undone.

he pulls out with a grunt, pumping his cock on top of you before coming all over your lower stomach. he makes such a mess, although he doubts you would want it otherwise. the sheets are not a problem, he would make sure to help you clean them as a fair apology��� not because he fucked you so hard you made a mess all over your sheets, but because it would happen again.

sometimes, you wonder if this is how it is supposed to be.

he immediately grabs a towel to clean you up. his actions are slow and soft and you let out a relaxed sigh at the way he trails his lips over your belly, tasting the remnant of him on his tongue. he goes further down and kisses the insides of your thigh, knowing just now it gets you all bothered.

his eyes find yours from down below, and you wonder why he looks at you like that while he wonders if you are aware that you are otherworldly.

he senses your breath even out and you slip into slumber. you are always the first one to fall asleep and he thinks it’s adorable. he covers you with a duvet, gaze refusing to leave you— who looks so angelic in the after glow, so spent, so blissfully unaware of the things you make him feel.

he guesses he should sleep on the couch but then he decides to stay and watch you longer. your eyes flutter during sleep in the most hypnotising ways and you look like you should be given everything you ever desire. you deserve to have all your wishes fulfilled, to be happy every second of life and never feel lacking. if it is the stars and moon that you want— stars and moon shall you receive.

jake realises this is the first time he has watched you sleeping for so long. he realises how lucky he is to see you like this, bare, open, content. he realises you deserve the entire world instead of some convenient sex a few times a week— the thought leaves a bitter taste on his tongue.

his heart beats faster and he can feel his fingers clenching involuntarily over the sheets. jake realises you deserve to be sought after every day, every hour, every minute, every second, and not only on days he wants pleasure.

he thinks he is losing his mind, but he feels like a sick bastard to reduce someone like you to just sex, when you deserve to be made love to with utmost care and passion.

a voice in his head tells him he is overthinking— you agreed to this, fully sober. but he still feels an ache in his heart when he thinks about the first time he had sex with you, and he winces at his sheer stupidity for landing you in this arrangement when you deserve better.

the soft rustling of sheets turns his attention to you as you turn, hugging the other pillow in your arms. your cheeks are squished against the soft material— so pure, innocent, like a fairy.

jake feels sick to his stomach.

OO2 IN WAYS MORE THAN ONE

jake feels like the worst man to walk on god’s green earth.

his head is spinning and he can’t stop thinking about the beautiful sounds you let out while he fucked you out of your head the other day— each memory making him feel guiltier.

it’s been three days since he has seen you.

three days of pushing and pulling, of his fingers hovering over your contact to give a call back, three days of holding at the single string of reason left in him.

he avoids walking by your classes, even taking the longer route in the scorching heat. he does a complete one-eighty when he sees you from across the cafeteria, making an excuse to his friends and hurrying out.

jake is absolutely going through it because you went to your birthday party and your pictures on instagram are turning him on. he almost considers unfollowing you but ends up liking your post instead.

he thinks about all the times he has fucked you and all the sounds you let out for him and almost jerks off in the washroom stalls— almost, because he slaps himself back to reality and goes back to having his face buried deep betweent the pages of his book, this time.

“i feel like shit,” is the first thing he says as soon as he plops down on the chair next to sunghoon, immediately going for the can of soda on the table.

“did something happen?” there’s curiosity, just not enough to make him look up.

but the sound of jake popping the can open catches his attention anyway, followed by a groan from the australian. “me and yn are fucking,”

a pause. sunghoon shrugs. he doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with that.

for one, you’re really beautiful. if he didn’t know any better, sunghoon would fuck you too out of sheer jealously. and two, jake goes off about you on a weekly basis and it doesn’t take a scientist to know that he might have a thing for you.

although, having sex with your crush on a friday to friday arrangement sounds way awkward for sunghoon’s liking. “oh? good for you,”

“no— no,” jake leans over the table, really engrossed in telling his friend why this is the biggest sin he could’ve ever committed. “this need to stop. she deserves something proper, more than just convenient sex,”

and the latter can only furrow his brows at his words. jake might just be the first person to complaint about this. “is it that serious?”

“it is! she deserves more— better,” he is firm, adamant. there’s an extra emphasis on the way he says better, and he says it so condensingly as if he knows he cannot provide you with that, or maybe he is too scared too.

“does she?” sunghoon scoffs. “or do you want more?”

more.

he does like the sound of that.

jake would never admit it to you, maybe it’s fear, or maybe he doesn’t want to look like a loser in front of you.

he thinks you look the prettiest when you’re basking in the afterglow, hair sprawled over his pillows. when your lips are swollen from all the kissing, when you’re exhausted and too far ruined for another round— jake thinks you might be an angel.

when you asked him if you could stay over for the first time, he wondered if that was even conventional. is that a part of this arrangement? but he ignores that question, immediately grabbing a tshirt for you from his cupboard.

and now on nights you stay over, he stays awake fixing your blanket to make sure you aren’t cold. he can’t sleep— his heartbeat is way too loud on his ears. on nights like those, he fights back the urge to brush his knuckles over the soft skin of your cheek, to gently run his fingers through your hair and kiss you good night on the forehead.

on nights like those, jake wishes there was something more; but then the sun rises and you are gone— the cycle continues.

sunghoon stares at him from his peripheral. watching his friend zone out occasionally isn’t really new, and he taps his pen on the table to get him out of the trance. “i asked you a question,”

“oh, right— uh,” there’s hesitation, jake is thinking. “i’ll see you later,” and then he scurries off out of the study room with a newly found realisation.

sim jaeyun is terrible, terrible at self control.

it’s no news, just a touch from you gets him worked up. it’s a doucious sin, neither of you mind it. study sessions are an excuse, if anything. jake knows you aren’t any better. you can’t wait until fridays and honestly— he wouldn’t mind eating you out any day despite trying to be the voice of reason between you two. but jake, jaeyun, the way you say it, so sweet and breathlessly, the way you chant his name when he has you spread out on the farthest table in the library, when he’s pounding into you and you’re biting your lips to muffle any sounds— it’s heaven.

but back to him and his self control, absolutely terrible.

jake turns like a firefly to the light when he hears your voice. you have him enchanted, like a moth to a flame. he sees you walk out of your lecture hall and he is gone, tranced.

you look like an angel, you are an angel, irrevocably so. maybe it’s the fact that he hasn’t seen you in four days— his fault for avoiding you and now it’s coming back to bite him— but you look so incredible.

“hi, jake,” he thinks you are calling his name or maybe, it’s just his mind playing games, until you wave your hand in front of his face and bring him back to reality.

“hi,” he huffs, already breathless by the sight of you in your outfit. he doesn’t think he has seen you in that before and he is thanking every deity up there for letting him witness the sight in front of him.

“you good?” you raise your brows, you words once again get him out of his trail of thoughts. your voice is the only thing grounding him to reality and the sight of you is making him lose his mind— it’s everything that’s making him so crazy.

“yeah, very,” and he is ogling you in that outfit, undressing you with his eyes and barely even trying to hide it. god, he can feel himself getting hard just by looking at you. “you don’t know what seeing you in that does to me,”

he says it like a sinful secret, you’d be lying if it doesn’t rouse you a little. his gaze alone does the magic, already having your mind visiting places that would be deemed inappropriate by the code of conduct of your university.

“is that your way of saying i look beautiful?” you don’t let up. god, you are the death of him, looking him in the eyes with dirtiest innuendos, and jake would gladly die in your arms.

“yes. you look so beautiful,” he runs his eyes over the empty hallways before whispering against the shell of your ear. “it’s taking everything in me to not rip that off you,”

and jake doesn’t waste another second before pulling you inside the janitor’s room with him. he is quick with his hands, pushing you up against the door before kissing you hungrily.

it’s insanity how he works you up easily, like he knows you inch by inch. what you like and what you don’t— like having him kiss you messily while grinding his hips against yours— an action that takes you to heaven and back.

he feels your fingers trace over the back of his neck, making him shudder, and he is deliberately letting out a long exhale against your ear. he knows you are impatient, gosh, you always are, despite trying to be so calm and composed, only to be reduced to a puddle by just a few nips and kisses.

“so fucking pretty—” he whispers, pressing kisses along your cheeks, trailing them down to the corner of your lips just so he can hear how adorably you whine when he stops short.

he knows he is dragging this out, it’s evil but he loves it when you’re needy. he plants open mouth kisses against the column of your neck while undoing the buttons of your blouse. and he does it exactly the way that would get you worked up— slow, deliberate, teasing as his fingers brush over your breasts.

his lips find your neck, sucking gently at the sensitive skin while his hand pushes down your bra and trails down to your breasts as his thumb starts to circle your nipple. you clutch onto him, barely able to speak anything except. “jaeyun,”

“yeah,” he responds, grinning against your neck. he loves the way you say his name, like a prayer, like your life depends on it. “got a class after this, pretty?”

you can barely make out his words, only focusing on the way he slides his hand under your trousers, feeling the damp spot on your panties before pushing the flimsy cloth aside.

“yes, but it’s— oh, jake,” your words are cut short by a gasp when his finger finds your clit, and he grins at how you spread your legs instinctively.

“gotta keep that in mind,” he mumbles before capturing your lips in a rough kiss, half because he loves the feeling of his lips against yours, half because you do have a tendency to get loud when he’s working you out with his fingers.

his thumb rubs gentle circles against your sensitive bundle of nerves, barely giving you what you want. he drinks in every single moan and whimper that dances off your lips while your eyes are closed in bliss— he thinks this is the most beautiful you’ve ever been.

your voice is honeyed— needy and saccharine and breathe— and it has his mind fogging up in admiration. your head is thrown back against the door while he continues his ministrations, flicking your clit. jake could die happily in this very moment and he would have no complaints.

this is everything he desires for yet fears, just being with you makes his heart race in inexplicable ways. the way you’re drowning in pleasure and need, so lovely— it breaks his heart knowing this is only about sex.

his mind registers your moan when he sweeps his index finger across your clit but he is far too lost in his head to focus on anything. you deserved to be treasured, to be loved, like the precious thing that you are. you whine and roll your hips to meet his hand, eager for more, only for him to rip his fingers out.

“jake—” you’re pleading nonsense while clinging to him, but he is already mumbling apologies and fixing your outfit like this was never meant to happen.

“i’m sorry,” there’s a crack in his voice, a slight shakiness that paints confusion all over your face.

“what?” you are still out of breath and in disbelief, not sure if it’s because of his words or because he left you undone for the first time in three weeks.

and jake, hell, he sees the desperation in your eyes. he knows you need him; and he can give in with the way his cock is straining inside his pants but the ache in his chest is far more and worse.

he knows you deserve to be worshiped all over, to be kissed over your skin and told sweet nothings, to have someone who says your name like a chant. you deserve the entire world, instead of some weekly sex that you both are hiding from the entire world like a sin.

so, jake simply walks out of the door once he has fixed your clothes, saying just three words that leave you perplexed. “you deserve better,”

OO3 IN ALL WAYS THAT MATTER

i’m sorry.

you scoff to yourself.

you deserve better.

and you do it again, this time in disbelief. you flip the pen in your hands, barely paying attention to the material in front of you. for a second, you wonder if this was a joke, although nothing about it was funny. especially now the way jake left you high and dry in the janitor’s room a few days ago.

maybe he is conveniently and very politely trying to tell you that he doesn’t want to have sex with you anymore, hoping you aren’t offended— you do feel quite offended, actually.

jake had no complaints before this and you certainly don’t either.

you both work together just fine, having flexible schedules, communicating actively— well, except now— great in bed ( you would give yourself that. ) you don’t know when you grew a habit of sleeping over at his place, maybe it was when you started waking to the fragrance of freshly prepared food.

you don’t even know if this was a part of the deal. ‘i can’t leave you starving after last night,’ he what he would say as an excuse. it was awkward at first, then you started to find it fun, except when you two almost missed a test because you both got a little too busy in the kitchen.

he is handsome, sweet, kind, and generous with aftercare. he treats you like porcelain after ravishing you all night, like you’re something precious. he is good with his fingers and really fucking great with his mouth. it would be greedy to ask for anything more than having his face buried between your thighs on a weekly basis.

you try to think what you could have done wrong, only to end up with your hands devoid of an answer. you sometimes catch his eyes while passing by his lecture halls— he sits in the front— you don’t understand why he looks at you so much yearning while also running away from you.

no matter which way you think, you can’t find a rational explanation for everything he said to you three days ago.

you recognise jake’s perfume like the back of your hand. it’s woody with oud, oddly fitting for him. sometimes, you wake up with his scent lingering on your skin and it provides you a weird sense of comfort. your eyes follow his movements as he walks inside the library.

you almost wait for him to notice you and say something but he doesn’t. you wonder if he is ignoring you and end up calling out to him yourself. “fancy seeing you here,”

“oh, hi,” and he quite literally freezes at your voice. his heart only beats faster the longer he stares at you. you are angry, a little hurt, he can see it in your eyes. i’m sorry, he wants to say, but he chickens out like usual. “i’ll just— ”

“you’re avoiding me,” you retort, not wanting him to leave you hanging like the last time.

“i’m not—” and he defends himself, only to be cut off by your sharp words.

“stop lying, jake,” he figures that you are really mad, more than he expected you to be.and you wonder if this is even that serious— you two are literally just fuck buddies, but you still find yourself continuing. “you’re ignoring my calls and not even replying to my texts,”

an eerie silence follows. you’ve barely known him for a couple of weeks and can still tell that this is not jake— quiet, lost, speechless, with a gaze that meets everything but your eyes.

“sorry,” is all he is able to say. he does feel guilty. heck, more than he did while trying to fuck you in the janitor’s room. jake feels like the worst guy ever, all because of this stupid situation he got you both into.

it’s stupid, you conclude. you don’t even know what you’re upset at. if it’s his words from that day, his unexpected apology or the fact that he walked out on you in the middle of whatever you were doing, without explanation. “if you don’t want to have sex with me anymore, that’s fine—”

“i never said that,” his voice is firm and his next words are determined, like they’re the only ones that matter. “i just said you deserve more,”

“but i am content with this!” you almost want to throw something. jake is refusing to have sex with you because he thinks you deserve better— it feels straight out a poorly written script of a movie. “i’m happy with what we have, i don’t want to be greedy,”

“no, you should be greedy,” he is adamant, shaking his head and all. “you’re amazing— wonderful, you deserve better than some empty sex every week,”

no, you can’t be stupid— he is.

it would be the first time in the history of any friends with benefits arrangement that this is happening. you realise that you can go on for hours about how you are happy with him fucking you every week and he would still refuse respectfully, telling you that you deserve better.

you don’t even think you are mad anymore, just amused. despite his serious voice, you find yourself biting back a giggle at his slightly red face. he’s standing in front of you, arms crossed, actually frowning and fighting for your supposed loss in this arrangement which was mutually agreed upon.

“if i didn’t know any better, i’d assume this is your bad attempt at flirting,” you manage to chuckle and he is already pulling out a chair next to you.

it’s like his breath gets caught up in his throat and he is tapping his finger on the table just as fast as his heartbeat. “what if it is?” maybe, he is just taking your chances, maybe he’ll end up making a fool out of himself— it doesn’t matter anymore.

“jaeyun,” you whine, your fingers pulling on his soft locks when he draws his finger inside your wet hole, almost chuckling as you arch your back off the seat.

“didn’t even do much yet,” he scoffs mockingly, head slanting forward until you could feel his breath against your folds. “you’re already that fucked out?”

it’s your fault, clearly.

you shouldn’t have tried arguing with jake in the middle of library, definitely shouldn’t have tried to rile him up by trying to stroke him through his pants while he was trying to focus on his studies so desperately.

you knew acting up would get you in trouble and you have quite literally landed in the hands of trouble itself— in the backseat of his car with your legs spread open— although, you doubt you would have it any other way.

“oh, shut up—” you huff, still having a little bit of attitude and honestly, jake finds it cute, but so is everything else about you.

you make a throaty cry when he adds another finger, closing your doused eyes when he places a tender kiss on your clit. he’s doing it with practiced ease, knowing you inside-out like anyone else. you’re breathing in deep and exhaling sharply while he strokes your sloppy wet cunt with the tip of his tongue.

he hums satisfactorily at how good you taste. it’s like drugs and he is addicted.

“jake,” you let out a whine, riddled with impatience. “please,”

sometimes, you ask yourself why you are unable to say anything except his name and desperate plea when he has you like this. as if on cue, he presses a few feather light kisses over your dripping folds and hooks his hand under your thighs to pull you closer, already aligning himself at your entrance.

“you’re so beautiful,” he teases his tip at your entrance, adoring your chest with light kisses that are ever so gentle. “so, so, precious,”

you wrap your arms around his neck almost like you don’t want to let him go. he is teasing you and it’s too good and too painful, all at once, and you can only let out a breathy “jake—”

“i want you so bad, baby,” and jake would rather die than keep you waiting. so, he inches into you slowly, head finding your neck instantly as you squeeze him tighter than the last time he fucked you. “in ways more than one,” he whispers a breathy confession, pressing his nose against the side of your neck. “in all ways that matter,”

he wonders if you realise that your heartbeats are in sync.

he lets out a soft groan, drawn and breathy as your walls squeeze around him with each thrust. you whimper when he hits a certain spot and he only lets out a low moan when you suck him deeper.

“fuck—right there, jaeyun!” you’re breathing much more erratic now, raising your hips to meet his. and jake wonders if you know how you get him going when you call him that.

it’s just his name, someone would argue, but the way you say it, so sweet and desperate, coated in your lovely voice.. he likes how it rolls off your tongue. you say it like it’s your right and it is— he is your jaeyun.

he speeds up his thrusts when he feels you getting closer. he pulls away from your neck and loses himself in how ethereal you look, the glow of your face surpassing the stars.

you tug him by his hair pull him into a kiss. he kisses you carefully, unlike his hips pounding into you. his lips move with tenderness, with adoration, and he pulls back to look into your eyes. “go on a date with me, darling,”

“what?” you’re not quite sure if you heard that correctly. you could very well be out of your mind, considering how he is fucking you brainless.

honestly, you can barely think about anything, too busy thinking about how good his cock feels inside you, the way he is moving. he angles his hips better, just the way it would make you come, and you let out a cry.

“i want to give you— fuck —better,” you know it just by his voice that he is close, with the way he moves inside you so desperately. “andnif we’re gonna keep fucking, you have to go on a date with me first,”

and it makes you laugh at how he is so determined to ask you out even in this state, when either of you can barely think, only breathing and groaning heavily. your walls spasm around him as you let go with a whine and he follows with a loud grunt. he presses his forehead against yours, continuing to slam his hips into you and fucking you both through the orgasm.

he slumps on top of you when you both finish, catching his breath. his eyes are closed and he plants a kiss on your temple when he feels you nuzzle in the crook of his neck.

“what if it doesn’t work out?” you finally manage to whisper after a while, not sure if you are scared or just stating a possibility.

but jake sees right through you, as always, pressing soft, gentle kisses on your cheeks with the sweetest smile. “not a chance,”

[papercranesandinkstains]

Midnights

Summary: You guys never could get your timing right. Or could you?

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

AN: This is the first time I have ever published a written fic, so please please please be kind. I don't know if I will leave this up or if I will do more, but I just wanted to try it out... Thank you for reading!

Masterlist

The two of you had been playing this game for long enough. The back and forth. Committing your hearts to one another, then jumping and running the second the rain started. Waiting for the storm to subside and then your phone would light up late at night, sending you right back down the rabbit hole that always seemed to land you right back in his bed, skin pressed together and air filled with unspoken promises that the two of you had finally gotten it right. 

You never had. 

But the idea was warm, like most dreams are. Tangled up through years of almost confessions and jealous rages, but by the time the stars settled in the sky, the two of you would be right back where you always were. In love, but not. Together, but alone. Committed to keeping the other for yourselves, but not willing to take the final plunge. 

That’s how you found yourself tonight, red cup pressed into the palm of your hand as your lips curl up into a small smile while you pretend you are listening to the very animated story John B is giving you by the fire. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to listen. You found John B quite entertaining under normal circumstances and with the little comments sprinkled in from JJ and the warmth from the beer in your hand, you would normally be a giggling fool tripping over your feet to hear more. 

Maybe you would have been if you hadn’t seen him walk in, all smug smiles and blue eyes as he makes his way around the party. He’s careful to move around your group. Not that you notice. Okay, you do notice. You always do. That’s his plan all along. After yet another argument about him not knowing how to actually apologize with his words instead of the ghost of his lips in the middle of the night, you had sworn you were done. 

You were done. 

He’s the one who showed up in the stupid blue button up you had gotten him for his birthday lifetimes ago, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and buttons undone knowing how you felt about how it made his eyes stand out. You’d have to be blind to not catch the watch wrapped snugly around his wrist, silver and flickering by the firelight with the unmistakable carving of your initials on the side of it. He was doing it on purpose. You knew he would play dirty. He always did. Avoiding you so that you would have to be the one to make the first move no matter who was in the wrong- even if it was almost always him. 

So, you were ignoring him back. The glances you snuck in his direction were because you were still a girl at the end of the day. Enjoying the sight of him and caving were two very different things. Rafe Cameron is beautiful. He knows it. To make it worse, he knows you know it. You can’t let him win. Not this time. The longest the two of you have held out is three days. 

Tonight is day four.

Your eyes leave his face again, turning your sight back to John B who just rolls his eyes playfully and dodges a stick that Kiara throws at him for some obscene comment he made when you were too busy staring at your- When you were busy staring at Rafe. 

The beer is warm on your tongue, a little gross but just enough to keep your attention off of the way Rafe throws his head back to laugh at something Topper is saying to him, hand finding his shoulder. After the time you have spent away from each other, watching his fingers land on anybody else drops a stone in your stomach. He’s like a drug and you never really noticed how addicted you are until his hands aren’t on you. The cup in your hand is drained in an instant, earning you a cheer from JJ, who nudges your shoulder and effectively drops your cup right out of your hand. 

“JJ, what the fuck. I was-”

“If you need another drink, baby, I’d be more than willing to help you out.” 

You straighten up as the deep voice pops up from behind you, pressed so closely behind you that you can almost feel the words rattling around in his chest. You don’t turn around. Instead, you stand and watch as JJ makes a not-so apologetic face before he is shaking his head and grabbing John B, promises of keg stands and staying out of “relationship drama”. 

As if you could even call it that.

Still, your chest floods with a warmth only he can give you. Not that you would let him know that. Especially not when you are still trying to prove a point. You’re stronger than him. Rafe Cameron is used to batting his eyelashes and getting what he wants. It’s no surprise when you finally turn yourself around and meet his eyes that what he has decided he wants is you. 

“I’m all good,” you say quickly with the flash of a polite smile. 

He smirks at you, tilting his head in that stupidly arrogant way that makes you unsure if you want to strangle him or marry him. He holds out a wine cooler to you, glass bottle extended out like a peace offering. It’s his way of apologizing. Coming over to you at a party is a first, but this isn’t. Gifts instead of him actually admitting that he was wrong. You won’t fall for it. No matter how nicely the light of the fire catches his face or how good he smells. 

You just raise an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms over your chest. It’s a challenge. You both know that, and usually he would be ticking his jaw and throwing you over his shoulder. He hadn’t exactly made his affections for you a secret in public, one too many punches landing on the bodies of boys who hadn’t quite gotten the memo you were spoken for. Not that you could blame them. You never got one either.

Instead, he puts the bottle down on the log your friends had abandoned to give you space and wipes his hands off on his jeans. The two of you stand like that for a moment, ignoring the curious glances and quiet whispers of the crowds around you. You two weren’t strangers to the occasional public standoff, but those usually entailed the two of you just yelling at each other. Neither of you says anything. Just a staredown to see who is going to break first. 

It’s always you. You had a weakness for pretty boys with soft smiles reserved just for you. Danger wrapped up in selective kindness that only found itself extended to you. You fell for it every time, and everyone knows you’ll fall for it again this time. It’s just a matter of when.

For the first time, he beats you to the punch. 

“Tell me what you want,” he says, “I’ll give it to you. You know I will.”

The scoff is slipping through your lips before he finishes his sentence, partially in disbelief at him actually making the first move and the rest because he is standing in front of you again beating around the bush and not just owning his shit. 

“There’s nothing you have that I want.”

The smile that breaks across is genuine, blue eyes shining in the darkness, and it makes your heart stop for just a second. Just a second. You won’t be broken by a pretty smile. Plenty of people smile. Your face flushing is because of the heat crackling beside you, not because of your- whatever he is. 

“I’d say lying isn’t cute on you, but then I would be lying. Everything looks good on you. I would look even better-”

You shove at his chest, giving him a glare as you glance around at the ears that have perked up around you. You flip the first set of eyes you catch off, middle finger lingering in the air and earning a chuckle from the boy in front of you when the stranger turns away in embarrassment. 

“What do you want, Rafe?”

You're tired of it now. The back and forth. He is doing exactly what he always does, and the space hasn’t changed anything. You know this isn’t how things should be. You need to get out of this before your resolve crumbles. You aren’t asking for a miracle, but the longer you stand this close to him, a miracle would be what they need to get you off of him.

“You.”

Quick. Simple. Said without thinking, and in a breath that sounds so sure that your heart soars. You allow it a second before you are snatching it back, shaking your head as you continue to stare at him.

“You’ve had me long enough.” 

Your shoulder knocks into his as you brush past him, finally tearing your eyes away and setting your sights on the parking lot. You came to have a nice night, and you are about two seconds away from jumping his bones or jumping off a bridge. 

Warm fingers wrap around your wrist, touch feather-light but grounding. You don’t turn around to look at him. Your resolve is breaking fast, and if you look at him for a second longer, you will forget about the apology you are wanting. He has a way of bringing you in, and you always let him. 

“What do you want me to say?” he asks, giving your wrist a slight tug. He wants you to look at him, but you don’t give in. “That I’m sorry? I am. I’m sorry. I never wanted to make you feel like I’m not in this.”

Your shoulders drop, teeth biting into the inside of your lip. Tears are burning in your eyes, cheeks burning as the alcohol and his words both settle into your being. It’s an apology. Not a good one, but a first. Are firsts ever really good? You aren’t too sure as your mind focuses on the way his thumb traces a circle over your wrist. 

“Or do you want me to say that I love you?”

You are stumbling away from him, snatching your wrist back against your chest, cradling it like his words sliced it somehow. Your eyes find him, searching for the punchline. He just looks back at you, eyes soft in a way that they only ever are for you in the safety of his bed. Never in public. 

“Because I do,” he says. 

You just stare at him, mouth open as you try to find something to say. You want to scream at him. Your palms itch to reach down and throw the sand underneath your feet at him. He can’t just meet your radio silence with his own for four days after the two of you have gone back and forth for so long and then stand here and confess at a party full of people you don’t even really know. 

“You’re being mean.”

He shakes his head at your words, taking a step towards you. It’s just a little one, but when you allow it, suddenly he is standing inches from you. Blue eyes are staring down at you and suddenly the rest of the party is gone. 

“I love you,” he says the words this time, “I’m tired of not saying it. Calling this what it is.”

“And what exactly do you think this is?” 

The tone of your voice cuts through all of the warmth you are feeling. It’s too warm. You are going to melt standing here and you aren’t even standing next to the fire anymore. He’s too close. You two don’t do this. Feelings? Barely when you are alone. In public? Not happening. 

Well, maybe not before. Tonight is different. 

“You’re mine,” his voice is firm. “You just have to let yourself be.”

His hand finds yours again, pulling your wrist out of your palm and entangling your hands together. His fingers slide into yours like they have a million times. Maybe they have. He’s let it slip before that you were made for him, but it’s moments like these where you think maybe he could be made for you. 

He’s right. You are his. You always have been. The two of you have run from each other for so long that you aren’t sure you actually know how to stop. He is standing in front of you, holding your hand and offering you exactly what you have always wanted. The ache in your chest is deep, heart rate thundering in your ears, but for the first time, your feet are planted underneath you.

“You can’t take it back.”

His laugh floods you with warmth, the ache in your chest settling as he tugs you forward, free hand coming to rest on the back of your neck. You are surrounded by him, his forehead touching yours as he breathes you in for what feels like the first time in a lifetime and you find that you aren’t dreading the morning already. 

For the first time, the two of you are really standing together and nobody is walking away. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

And when your lips touch his, you find yourself thinking that maybe this is what forever can feel like.

[hellfire--cult]

No but I need all the fuckboy eddie thots 😩

oh sarah, i have all the thots

+18 - like for example, when you and fuckboy!eddie met for the first time. (prev eddie thot) - smut incoming btw, p in v, oral, all that

.

It was a party you weren't sure who was hosting. A normal summer night away from they typical bars and same group of people you hung out with every weekend. You met a new person while grocery shopping, someone you think you've heard of before, but you moved to Hawkins just a year ago, so you couldn't be sure.

Steve Harrington seemed nice, handsome, big hazel eyes that showed desperate need of attention, of someone to hold him and reassure him that he is an amazing guy and all that. You tried to grab the same kind of beans, fingers brushing with yours like it would happen in a romantic comedy, only that you really wanted to fuck him the moment you connected eyes with his.

He asked for your name and if you had been in Hawkins for long because he had never seen 'Such a pretty face' before in this town. Cliche lines, but that made it way easier. So before paying, he asked for your number and then invited you to a party he was going to with some friends that weekend and you could bring anyone you wanted.

So there you were, but no Steve Harrington to be seen.

Nursing a drink by yourself in the corner of the living room, all the guys playing beer pong while some girls danced on the side. It looked like a high school party, and you were already in your 20's. Your patience was thinning because you were expecting to get laid tonight, and now your friend was nowhere near you.

Until you took your pack of cigarettes out of your pocket and started walking to the backyard that you spotted Steve making out with your friend in the kitchen. You groaned loudly, because you couldn't blame your friend. You explained Steve's looks to her, but there were many brown haired guys around, and you didn't spot Steve until this very moment, so you couldn't have introduced them.

You defeatedly walked to the backyard, already pissed that you were the one going home with a dry pussy. You put a cigarette up your lips only to not find your lighter anywhere, cursing through the stick, only to then have a flame lit up in front of you. Your eyes found sharp brown ones.

"Need a light?" His voice was hoarse, cheeky, a dimpled smile that could knock someone over. He had long hair, not exactly the type you always went for, but it looked good on him. He was definitely a metal head, just by looking at the get up and the accessories. All black, metal belt and chains hanging from his hips, leather jacket, a V-Cut shirt underneath and a red pick necklace adorning his collarbone.

And the glimpse of a tattoo coming out of the side of the collar, right on his left pec.

You slowly batted your eyelashes to him, leaning to light the cigarette with his help. You took a deep breath in as he lit his own cancer stick, taking a swig of it. You both exhaled the smoke at the same time before you talked.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it, sweetheart." Oh, petnames. You were definitely into that. "So, what's with the angry look?"

Should you lie? What kind of story would you perform for the guy you just met in front of you?

"Well, my friend is definitely making out with the guy who invited me to this party, so." You pretended to be hurt, not angry. Pretended that your ego was crushed and you were basically a damsel in distress with a pouty lip. His grin widened, his eyebrows falling on the edges in a 'sad' frown.

"Aw, poor baby. That's not cool of your friend, or that guy."

"It's fine, it's whatever. I met him once but--" You gave a shrug as he bit his lip and you noticed the people around you looking every once in a while. They knew this guy. Interesting.

"Well, I would be delighted, if you'd like, to spend the night with you while you wait for your friend to be done." He offered, and oh, you would be the delighted one by the end of it. You gave him a sweet smile, a bat of your eyelashes and you nodded. "I'm Eddie, by the way."

You gave him your name and you learnt that he had lived in Hawkins for a long while. Then you commented on his clothes and you were right when you said he was a metalhead. He excused himself for a second to get you two a drink and waltzed back inside. You finished your cigarette and a girl approached you with a guy on her arm.

"Damn, don't get attached to a guy like that girl." And as she left, you could already guess what that meant. People had said the same shit about you. It wasn't your fault that people got clingy after fucking more than twice. It wasn't your fault so many guys had mommy issues. And that girl was obviously an Ex-Hook Up of his. No woman would give out a comment like that for nothing.

This was going to be way more entertaining than Steve Harrington.

When he came back, you continued your sweet act. That carefree girl that giggled at everything, and you wondered if this man would be the same as the others. Would he get clingy? No. He didn't look the type, and if his reputation was the same as yours, then you knew he was just there for fun.

So it didn't take long for him to get you in the back of his van in the middle of the woods, far from the residencies. His van smelled of weed, leather, and some cheap ass air freshener. But you didn't really care for it. Not when this man was finger fucking you into another galaxy.

"Sweet girl..." He moaned into your neck, his upper body naked for you to see. It had three tattoos, one of the left pec just like you've spotted, one on his ribcage on the right side, then another in the left. His arms were littered in them and you wondered if his legs were the same.

You were entirely naked, letting him scan your body, letting him pretend he was dominant of the situation as you got vulnerable for him. He was all dressed still as you spread your legs for him and he moaned at the sight of you. In the palm of your fucking hand.

You weren't prepared for his fingers to be this good, until he went down and started eating you out, talking into your pussy when you asked how was he doing that.

"I play the guitar... And I sing too." And he proved that by swirling his tongue on your clit. You could count with the fingers of a single hand the times a man went down willingly on you. And you had a big body count.

He made you see stars two times, and then it was your turn. You were desperate that night to see his cock, and he didn't disappoint. He was blessed, to say the least. His legs had some tattoos, and you made sure to kiss them and trace your tongue all over them as his hand ran through your hair.

When you put his cock in your mouth and moaned, his head went back with a groan and an amused chuckle as you started bobbing your head, making the sounds louder on purpose, spitting at the tip of his dick and dipping the tip of your tongue into the head of it.

"Damn, you aren't that innocent, huh?" Understatement of the year, pretty boy.

And then when he was finally inside, he fucked methodically but desperate at the same time. He knew when to roll his hips into you slowly and when to start slamming into you like a madman.

"Eddie-- Eddie--" He was forcing you to look at him as the van moved from side to side, shaking at his movements, his cock going in and out of your leaking cunt. His hand was gripping your chin tightly, his eyes boring into yours as he breathed heavily through his nose, in harsh huffs.

"Say my name again, say it again." And you did. You did until you both came. You were amazed about how easily he made you cum three times in a single night and fuck do you want to experience it again, but you had to test the waters.

So when he was driving back to the party so you could find your friend and leave, you bit your lip, looking at him.

"Well, this was nice Eddie. Thank you for spending the night with me." You moved to open the passenger's door until his hand came to rub onto your cheek to make you look at him.

"Give me your number and we can repeat it again, whenever you like. I loved having a sweet thing like you tonight for myself." You gave him a shy smile, and he was smirking at you, licking the inside of the bottom of his lip. "Come on..."

"Alright." He gave you a kiss on your pulse point once you handed him the little piece of paper with your number on it.

Sucker.

[bitchyglitterkoala]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

plot! ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪: riki was just getting bigger and stronger everyday, making you feel needier, but also less confident about yourself

genre! ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪: fluff ; comforting

warnings! ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪: insecurity ; self body shaming ; swearing ; suggestive

for all my insecure girls who need some love! english is not my first language! 💕

───୨ৎ──────୨ৎ──────୨ৎ────

It’s like you were going to burst.

You could feel your body sweating, your cheeks reddening and your mouth stuttering every time the man would have the smallest interaction with you.

Sometimes it’s not even something that crazy, like a few hours ago when he asked you if you wanted to share his ice cream, or when he just looked at you, simply because you were in the same room as him. Of course he’d look at you, he’s literally your boyfriend, which makes no reason for you to be so flustered around him.

You can’t really blame yourself either, in fact there is a very specific reason for why everything became so awkward between the two of you.

Riki, just started hitting the gym more regularly with his friends, and let’s just say.. the results are pretty good..

“Pretty good” is in fact, an understatement. The man is buff, and he’s never been so.. big, which makes you switch between different feelings: confusion, admiration and even envy.

Speaking of him, while you were daydreaming about his physics, Riki entered the house, taking his shoes and jacket off with his chrome hearts bag hanging over his shoulder. As you get stopped in your imagination, you jump slightly when you see him. Riki is sweaty, and his dark locs are sticking to his forehead, all while he’s breathing heavily.

“Hi beautiful.” he barely mumbles, making his way to you. He leans down and presses a kiss on the top of your head. The scent of his citrusy cologne mixed with his sweat lingers in the air, enveloping you in his presence, like you’re inside his bubble and you’re not supposed to. “You smell good, Y/N.”

“You smell disgusting.” you lie as you look up at him, feeling your cheeks already burning up. “How long were you working out for?”

“Like two hours or so? We made a challenge with the boys, and I won.”

It’s like you were being deaf. His words were like white noise playing in the back. You couldn’t help but just admire him, how his veins are popping out of his muscles, the frown on his face and his big hands, you could feel your thighs squeezing together and your breath hitching.

Your behavior was not unnoticed by your boyfriend, who cupped your head and pressed his wet forehead against yours. “What is it, baby?” his voice was soft, yet demanding.

“What?” you answer, looking down, already feeling overwhelmed with his intimidating presence, taking over your personal space.

“Talk to me..” he whispered.

He smiled before leaving soft wet kisses on your neck, kisses slowly turning into nibbles he leaves on your skin with breathy whimpers. “I want my baby to talk to me, why you’re ignoring me recently.”

Riki backs his head up slightly to look at your face while sitting his hands on your waist. He gently lifts you up and carries you so you’re holding onto him, like a koala.

“Nothing..” you mumble, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“Y/N, my love, I can tell when you’re upset, what’s wrong.”

God you hated him so much for knowing you so well, it’s like you are an open book, like you can’t hide anything from this man.

“Can we go to the gym together one day?” you let out quietly, giving up on the mysterious act.

The man chuckles like he didn’t expect you to say that. “Sure, tomorrow we can ma.”

Riki leaves a peck on your head once again before patting your back, cradling you like an upset baby.

You didn’t like what was happening. You hated feeling insecure, or like you were not enough because of strangers or random instagram models, but your own boyfriend? The feeling was so odd, mixed with neediness and envy, like you wanted to be up his standards because you knew you were out of his league.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

It was about 9 PM, and the pitch black sky was enlightened by the city lights.

You put on your shoes, tightening them. Looking down at your plush thighs wanted to make cry badly, were you really not enough?

Riki then got out of the men’s changing room to join you.

The place was empty, almost silent, with just some very bad mainstream music playing in the distance. The smell of leather, sweat and cleaning products was lingering in the air and filling up your nostrils.

“So, what you wanna do?” he asked, wrapping his right arm around your waist, while looking at all the machines around.

“I don’t know.. I’ll just do check out what I can do..” You don’t even let him finish, walking off to the stair master.

You needed to lose weight, to be prettier, better, thinner.

Riki was your everything, you couldn’t handle the thought of him being disgusted, ashamed by you.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

With heavy breaths you try harder to bring your chin up to the metal bar, knowing deep inside you can’t do it because of how heavy you are.

Suddenly, you feel yourself being much lighter. No it’s not a miracle, just Riki coming up to ‘save’ you. He holds your thighs and brings you down to the floor.

“Why are you pushing yourself so hard? I thought we’d have a fun gym date.” he frowns, holding your hips tightly so you don’t run away this time.

You look up at him to answer him, God he’s so big. Before you can speak he gets down to your level and opens his mouth to speak first.

“How about you calm down? You can do some stretches, or some walking.”

Seeing the discourage on your face, he immediately changes the subject.

“Or you can sit your pretty ass on my back and have a drink? While I do some push ups yeah?”

Your head nods instantly, not even trying to fight back.

He buys you a strawberry banana smoothie and lets you sit down on his back. Thoughts of you being too heavy to run around in your head once again, but get stopped when the man goes up and down on his arms.

Words couldn’t describe how much you loved him.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Once you two went back to his apartment, you rushed to the bathroom to shower and get rid of the sweat and negative thoughts. As you were coming out of the bathroom, your gaze accidentally targets the balance on the floor, waiting to be used.

“Fuck this..” you whisper. No, you did not have the energy to handle any more negative thoughts, so you make the decision to just go get dressed up and ignore them.

You put on pink shorts and a simple tank top and come right out the door.

Riki is still in his gym sweatpants and tank top. He devours the sandwich you made him hours ago, the one that was waiting in the fridge. Walking up to him, he smirks as he looks at you from your head to your toes.

“Shit..” he curses out. The man stands up, towering over your body once again. You wrap your hands around his neck, trying to reach it by standing on your tippy toes.

“So why have you been so cold?” he asks.

Deciding to give up on the hiding, you answer him. “You’re so hot. You got like 3 times bigger over two months.”

“So I’m basically making you horny?”

You hated the way he’d made things so simple yet so vulgar, but it’s not like you could deny it, so you just nod.

He chuckles steps back slightly, just to flex his biceps. “They big right?” God, how does one be so sexy yet so damn annoying. He gets closer to you and cages your head in his bicep, squeezing your cheeks together.

“Mmh! Dude!” you babble.

He lets go of you and lifts you up to sit you on the table, just like the day before. Right after, he spreads your thighs with absolutely no effort, making you realize how strong he was getting. “I’ve gotta admit you make me horny too.”

“Right. I’m just getting fatter everyday.”

“Y/N don’t even start..” He instantly retorts with a dry tone.

“Jesus Y/N you’re.. fuck..” he sighs before nuzzling his nose into your neck, inhaling your scent. “You’re the most beautiful woman on earth.” Riki pulls your thighs onto his hips so you’re closer to him, making you feel his bulge.

“You needy baby?” the man asks softly. Feeling your body heating up, you nod once again, leaning your face against him.

He leaves one last kiss on your cheek, and brings you to his room.

“Alright, let me take care of you.”

[iluvbuckets]

wild thoughts

paige bueckers x fem!reader

summary: paige had always just been your brother's best friend. your little brother's annoying best friend. on a typical summer trip to your family's cabin, you start to realize maybe paige isn't so little and annoying anymore.

warnings: lots of plot!, hella teasing, a little body worshipping, overstimulation, oral + fingering, thigh grinding, paige comes in her pants, switch!paige but bottom!paige would also be accurate, praise of course

word count: 9.3k

notes: this was NAWT supposed to be this long but i got carried away lowkey. i'm considering writing a part 2 for this bc i love this dynamic

✷✷✷

it was always funny when someone at your college found out that paige bueckers follows you on social media–the paige bueckers, star of uconn women’s basketball. 

because to you, she was just paige, your little brother, elijah’s, best friend who was over at your house so often you had to wonder if she had her own. she yells at the television at three in the morning over video games, paces around your house over basketball games, and eats your snacks out of the cupboard. she had been around so long that she is practically your parents’ third child, and they never let you forget it. there were pictures of paige hung around the house like they birthed her, not just pictures of her and your brother either–her high school basketball pictures, her senior pictures, pictures taken at her tournaments, you name it. not only that, but your grandparents would ask your parents about her like she was a grandchild. she was always invited to family holiday celebrations and family vacations, and while she rarely came to the holiday celebrations in favor of her own family, she never missed a vacation.

you never had a problem with it per se, but she was just your brother’s friend, so she was annoying by default. your brother was annoying, therefore she was too. which, honestly, she was. she was loud, spontaneous, and maybe even exhibited some warning signs of ADHD, and did you mention she would eat your snacks out of the cupboard?

you remember the day elijah met paige, because you definitely did not want to be there. you were seven and he was five, and it was his first ever practice for basketball (well, actually for any sport). it was a small, co-ed recreation league, so they advised parents to stick around during the hour-long practice just in case. even though you had made a compelling argument that you were obviously very mature and old enough to be left alone, your parents forced you to tag along with them. 

practice was running smoothly, elijah looked like a natural, until about thirty minutes in when he bumped right into paige, sending her to the floor. now typically, you would probably expect a little five-year-old girl to sit and cry on the floor after being hit like that, but not paige. she got right back up and shoved him as hard as she could onto the ground. clearly not expecting that reaction, the coach quickly grabbed paige to hold her back like it was a genuine fight (which maybe it was to her–she had definitely looked pissed). after a quick time-out, they forced paige to apologize to elijah, which she was clearly reluctant to do, but she did so she could be put back into the game. they hugged it out and have been practically inseparable ever since. 

your parents loved to tell that cute story to anyone who would listen.

when it was time for them to go to kindergarten, your parents and paige’s parents made sure they were in the same class. they constantly got in trouble for talking without permission, going off topic, and playing pranks in the classroom. they would get disciplined, but it never seemed to work because it continued all through elementary school. 

as all of you grew up, you didn’t hang out with your brother and paige that much. you were a whole two years older with your own activities, own friends, and own hobbies which didn’t really align with what they were interested in. 

there was one day when paige was in fifth grade and you were in seventh grade, when you heard a knock at your door. you were sitting on your bed reading a book, though it was a homework assignment for class so you would’ve rather been doing anything else. you expected it to be your dad since he always knocked now that you were thirteen, but after you shouted come in!, you saw an eleven-year-old paige bueckers standing there. she was wearing a t-shirt from her basketball league, a pair of black basketball shorts, nike elite socks, and her hair was in a pink nike tie headband with a ponytail. she looked nervous, like she didn’t know how to talk to you even though you had known her for six years at this point–like she hadn’t slept at your house literally last night. 

“some of the girls at school were making fun of me,” she said, playing with her fingers and not making eye contact. 

you immediately closed your book so you could set it to the side, patting the spot in front of you as a gesture for her to sit down. she did it hesitantly, still not looking up at you. 

“why?” you asked, like you were baffled that someone would do that. which you were. paige had always been sweet and kind to anyone she talked to, and never had a problem with anyone. if she did, it was probably basketball-related, and she would talk it out with them right after she got off the court. 

“they were saying i act and dress too much like a boy so i couldn’t sit with them,” she replied quietly.

you sighed. “don’t listen to them, paige. kids can be mean. there’s nothing wrong with how you dress.” 

“but i do dress like a boy,” she said, finally making eye contact.

“what does that even mean?” you ask rhetorically. “you got those clothes from the girls’ section, right? so how are you not dressed like a girl?” 

“they all wear skirts and dresses,” she said like it was obvious. you knew it was true, but it wasn’t weird to dress like a tomboy. you had a tomboy phase growing up, but since you joined dance, you started being more girly. 

“so what? that doesn’t mean anything. i don’t like wearing dresses either,” you laugh. 

“yeah but–” she starts, pausing like she doesn’t know how to ask the question that’s sitting on the tip of her tongue. “how do i be more of a girl like you?” 

your face contorts into a sad expression at the question, not really expecting it at all. “paige, you don’t need to change how you dress to please some girls at school.” like a lightbulb went off in your head, you had an idea to offer a solution without changing herself too much. “have you ever painted your nails?”

the answer to the question had been no, which you were expecting, so you did. you painted her fingernails a pink color to match her headband and hopefully help her feel a little more feminine. you wish she didn’t feel the need to change herself because of a couple of mean words, but growing up outside of the norm was hard so maybe it would make it slightly easier.

after that, paige slowly seemed to start talking to you more. she would invite you to hang out with her and elijah and she would ask if you were coming to their games. you often declined as you had your own practices, games, homework, and friends to hang out with. you had started playing school-sanctioned sports so your schedule was busy. you had decided to play volleyball and run track, and paige would often accompany your brother and parents to your games and meets. 

following a particularly successful eighth grade volleyball season, you had decided to quit dance to focus on volleyball in high school. in seventh grade volleyball, the plays and positions had been very basic to get you used to it, but eighth grade was a whole new game. you weren’t particularly tall standing at 5’7, you weren’t short but definitely not as tall as most players. your coach tried you as the libero, and you fell in love with it. while this meant you were spending more time in the gym than you did before, it also meant that you had more free time to hang out with and support your friends in their own activities now that you weren’t going straight from the gym to the studio. 

you attended every junior varsity and varsity basketball game of the season in ninth grade, which also meant you attended all of paige’s games. though she was only in seventh grade, her skill level had caught the coach’s attention, and she was playing with the junior varsity squad. 

even though she was your little brother’s annoying friend, you had a sense of pride watching her play up two grades like that. the little girl who had grown up with you was turning into an unstoppable powerhouse. you shouted her name the loudest (well maybe her dad and her little brother, drew, shouted louder) when she would make her shots, and you would shout at the refs when you thought they made a bad call on her. 

one particular home game, you were standing in the hallway talking to a couple of your friends during halftime, eating some popcorn near the concession stand. you couldn’t help but overhear a comment from a couple guys who were standing near you from the other school. one of them was talking about paige. saying she’s overrated and other mean things that you didn’t want to repeat. your friends had told you to let it go because they were just jealous, but you couldn’t. you spun on your heel, approaching them with a rage you had never felt in your life. before they could even greet you, your fist connected with the nose of the guy who had been talking about her. the guy didn’t fight back, but you were walking away before he even could anyway. luckily, no one saw and you didn’t get in trouble because the guy was too embarrassed to admit that it was a fourteen-year-old girl who did it. 

when you got home and your parents noticed your bruised, swollen knuckles, they obviously questioned you. you lied at first, saying it was an accident and they just let it go, knowing you wouldn’t tell the truth. about ten minutes later, your brother came into your room to ask what happened. obviously, you told him the truth. he was so impressed, but you made him swear he wouldn’t tell your parents.

the next day at school, rumors flew about how you clocked a guy in the face. there were various reasons for why and you didn’t bother to clear them up, but paige knew the truth because your brother had told her. 

you hadn’t thought much of any of it until your dad pulled came into your room after one of her games shortly after that one. it was after the first game that paige had asked if you could get a picture after. she was nervous when asking and you immediately called your brother over assuming that’s what she meant, missing the disappointed expression on paige’s face. 

“be nice to paige, okay?” he asked. you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion because you were always nice to paige and had never really been mean to her to warrant a conversation like that. “i think she has a little crush on you.”

you hadn’t really considered that to be a possibility before, but now that it was pointed out to you, you were suddenly very aware of all of paige’s actions. her gaze lingered a bit too long, she laughed at all of your jokes, and you were the first person she looked at when she told a joke to make sure you were laughing. even though it suddenly seemed obvious, you weren’t sure if she even knew herself. she had never indulged in crushes or anything and had focused all of her attention on sports thus far. though, you did find it strange that she never seemed to have a crush on any of the boys in her friend group, but you figured that was just because she knew them too well. 

you tried to keep a distance while remaining friendly to hopefully defuse that., and you hoped she didn’t notice.

by the summer before you were in eleventh grade, you had a boyfriend for an entire year. since it had been so long (high school relationship-wise), your parents allowed you to invite him to your yearly trip to your grandparents’ house, which was a cabin on the lake. of course, the invitation obviously included paige, elijah didn’t even need to invite her anymore because your grandparents did themselves.

you didn’t notice the way her jaw would clench when he would put his arm around you, bring you food, throw you in the water, or get near you at all. she tried to ignore the feeling, but she had an overwhelming sense of something when she saw it. she didn’t know what it was, but she knew she didn’t like seeing you acting like that with someone else. she didn’t say anything though, didn’t make it obvious to anyone except maybe your bother who definitely noticed. he didn’t say anything, either. she had never said anything to him about the possibility of liking girls, let alone his sister, so he chose to stay quiet and wait for her to tell him on her own time. 

it was a long two weeks for paige, but she managed to get through it without losing her mind too much. 

even though you loved that boyfriend and so did your family, shortly after the school volleyball season ended and club volleyball began, you broke things off. it wasn’t entirely mutual; he definitely didn’t want you to leave, but he understood where you were coming from. both of you were busy and were struggling to make time for each other. he was picking where he was going to college for track, and you had just signed to play volleyball for creighton.

when paige heard the news, she was ecstatic–internally, of course. 

after the two weeks spent at your grandparents’ house over the summer and how she felt about you breaking up with your boyfriend, she had come to terms with the fact that she definitely was not straight and she definitely had feelings for you. it was a tough realization for her, even though when she tried to talk to her stepmom about how she was feeling, her stepmom made it seem like the most obvious thing in the world–like everyone already knew. it was a little comforting, but it was jarring at the same time. could everyone tell that she had feelings for you? she hoped people could only tell that she liked girls, not the girl she liked. even worse, she hoped you couldn’t tell because that would be mortifying. 

she didn’t want to try anything either, knowing it wouldn’t be a good idea. you were older, more mature, and she wasn’t even sure that you saw her as anything more than a little sister or something like that. she just silently yearned, dreaming about what could happen if she told you. did you know? would you reject her?

not that it really mattered anymore, though, because for the rest of the year and through your senior year, you barely saw each other. you went to quite a few games in eleventh grade, but twelfth grade was packed with AP classes and volleyball practices. you tried to get to a basketball game when you could, but it was tough. you rarely left the gym and often times found yourself doing your homework late at night in the lounge area of it. you had something to prove in college, and you were working your ass off to get it. and paige was busy too. between playing overseas and out of state, she was rarely at school. 

she managed to make a few volleyball tournaments, you attended a few of her games, and she attended your graduation, but other than that, time was passing fast, and you rarely stopped to take it all in. you had missed the family vacation that summer too. you were scheduled for summer training, but paige managed to go even after being overseas. she had sent you a text saying she missed you with a picture attached of her and your brother on the boat, which you responded back with something about how you missed her too and that you hoped she had fun with a selfie of you and your team in the school gym.

paige was giddy the entire two weeks about it. 

your freshman year of college went as well as you could imagine. you were a starter for the team, you had bulked up in muscle, and you had a 4.0 GPA. and not only had you had a good year, but so did paige. you made sure to text her when she did something worth celebrating and she was always happy to hear from you. she did the same for you, making sure she never missed an accomplishment. 

when she committed to the university of connecticut, your parents mailed you a uconn basketball t-shirt. you sent her a picture of you wearing it with a message saying “congrats, pretty girl <3 you’re going to do great things up there! i’ll be cheering you on the whole way”. of course, you didn’t think much of it. you had always seen paige as an extension of your brother, someone that you had always just been there, but paige thought her heart was going to fly out of her chest when she saw it. she hesitated to reply, but managed to send a quick and simple thank you back after a couple of hours. months later, you sent her another text with a photo of you and your roommates watching her play at the state championship on tv.

again that summer, you had to skip the family vacation, but she did too, so she wasn’t too beat up about it like the summer before.

through your sophomore year and her senior year, life couldn’t get any better for both of you.

until covid-19 lockdown cancelled paige’s final state championship. 

she was distraught, rightfully so, at losing her chance to play in her final game for hopkins and for another chance at a championship. you sent her some apologetic texts and even a phone call because you know this meant the world to her, but it was hard to cheer her up. the future of her college career was uncertain at this point and so was yours. you had to come home from school suddenly, but luckily you didn’t have to miss any of your season.

to get away from it all, she had gone to virgina to spend time and quarantine with her friend azzi. the house was definitely quieter without her around. you thought that you would be happy to finally get to experience silence in your home, but it just felt empty instead. and your brother felt it too. one more than one occasion, he had come into your room seeking comfort about missing paige. it brought you two closer together.

as the world slowly opened back up and you were able to go to college again, you were ecstatic that this time, you would have a piece of you joining. your brother had decided to commit to creighton, just as a student though. even so, it made moving back to school away from home so much easier, and you could always trust that someone would be at your games. your parents had done their best before, but since elijah was still in high school, it was tough. 

paige had an amazing freshman season and you texted her a few times to congratulate her, but you both were getting too busy to keep up like you used to. you didn’t really watch her games anymore and you didn’t text her for every game, but you managed to catch a few headlines about various awards she won. 

that summer, the family vacation was put on hold. your grandparents were nervous about the pandemic given that all the kids were in college and could bring it back, so you stayed in omaha to work on your graduate school applications. your brother went back, though, mumbling something about not wanting to live in a house full of your friends or paying for summer housing. 

and it was the same the next summer, too. 

paige wouldn’t have gone anyway, after her injuries that season. you texted her about those, telling you how sorry you were. she didn’t get to come to your college graduation and she sent you a congratulations text to make up for it–for both graduating college and getting into the graduate program you wanted, but you understood.

and you ended up having to repeat that for her junior season. you had sympathy for her because she would have to miss out on her entire season twice in a row, something she was working so hard for.

you didn’t talk to her much beyond that, but you could imagine she was devastated. 

luckily, her senior year went a lot smoother. she was fully cleared, and playing harder than ever before. after she announced that she would be returning to uconn for a 5th year, your dad called to let you know that you would be having a special family vacation at the cabin to celebrate. grandpa and grandma were healthy, paige was healthy, and it would be the first time in years that you would get to do the tradition–though it wasn’t much of a tradition anymore. you made sure that you could make it because you missed your parents, your grandparents, and truthfully, you missed paige. you didn’t have to miss your brother because you could visit him whenever you wanted, but you guess it would be fun to hang out with him just like old times. 

the drive to the cabin in your parents' car was so nostalgic, you almost had the urge to cry. the familiar view of trees lining the road, though there were several new houses and stores lining the route. when you were younger, paige would ride along with your family, but this time she was driving herself. you couldn’t remember why, but you didn’t really question it. 

when you pulled into the driveway, you saw your grandpa’s minivan and a brand new jeep in the driveway–a jeep you had never seen before. you furrowed your brows in confusion, wondering who the hell was at your grandparents house.

your dad put the car in park, immediately popping the trunk to get the luggage out and inside. if there was one thing about him, he certainly didn’t waste any time getting settled in here. you got out too, looking around to take it all in. you had always loved coming here, this house had so many memories.

usually, though, your grandparents were rushing to the porch at the sound of the car door to greet you with a hug and a kiss, but they hadn’t come out yet. you tried not to think about it as you grabbed your suitcase and carried it inside. you left your suitcase at the bottom of the stairs, not really feeling like carrying it up to your bedroom at the moment. you could see your grandparents sitting on the back deck laughing through the big windows of their living room, so you all walked toward the door to see what had them so occupied.

your dad was first, opening the door and immediately saying, “hey, what’s the deal?” 

“oh, shit! you’re already here!” your grandpa laughed, pushing himself off out of the chair to give your dad a hug. your dad quickly bent down to give your grandma a hug as she stayed seated in your chair.

“paige got here early! we must’ve gotten distracted talking about how amazing she is,” your grandma explained.

then your dad turned, opening his arms wide. “paige,” his voice was soft, “it’s so good to see you again, kid.” 

she stood, wrapping her arms around him tightly. “i’ve missed you.”

when your dad stepped away, you were able to catch a glimpse of paige, and you swear, time stopped for a few seconds. she looked wildly different than the last time you saw her in person, and the livestreams and photos didn’t do her any justice. she looked grown up, like an actual adult rather than the little girl you remember running around your house. her hair was pulled into a messy low bun, probably because of the heat, and she was wearing a gray fitted tank top with black shorts and sneakers. you noticed she had definitely been spending time in the weight room by the defined muscles in her shoulders. her features were sharper, face slimmer.

you were snapped back to reality when it was your turn to hug your grandparents, giving them quick hugs before turning to paige. you tried not to make it obvious that you were feeling a whole different way for your brother’s best friend than before as you said a hello and gave her a quick, probably too quick to not be obvious, hug. 

you knew it was going to be a long two weeks.

and the first week only proved that.

you found yourself staring at paige when she was doing anything–swimming, playing pickup basketball with your brother, sitting at the breakfast bar, playing cards with your family. and she definitely noticed. you made eye contact almost every single time. at first, you would immediately look away, but you started testing the waters and holding it. she almost always broke first. you hoped no one else noticed because you couldn’t help it. the veins in her hands, the accentuating lines on her abdomen, the new curve of her ass–they were all distracting.

she started getting bolder too. touching your waist or back just barely whenever she went by you, bringing you snacks or drinks, and making sure to always be on your team when you were playing games. your dad and your brother would snicker quietly, clearly assuming paige’s crush never subsided. 

it was friday night, and your grandparents had invited a few of the other families that lived close to come hang out a few hours ago. it was normal, you knew all the families that were coming, and so did your parents. your dad had grown up in this house, so they had all known each other for years. you had been talking to one of the girls for a while, trying to catch up, but you could feel paige’s eyes trained on you.

she was sitting across the deck from you at the table with your brother and a couple of the other kids from the other families. you didn’t know what they were talking about, but paige didn’t seem too interested at all. the only thing that was holding her attention was you and the seltzer she was holding in her hands. 

after around twenty minutes, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom. only, you didn’t even really have to go to the bathroom, you just could feel yourself getting antsy under the intense stare.

paige excused herself too, mumbling something about how she needed another drink. your brother didn’t see you go inside, nor was he really paying attention, so he didn’t even say anything as she chugged the rest of her seltzer and pushed the back door open. 

you had gone to the bathroom upstairs to splash some cold water on your face and give yourself some light affirmations in the mirror about how you would be able to get through this week without any issues or slip ups. it wasn’t really convincing, but you managed to peel yourself away from the bathroom to join your family anyway. you knew that if your dad even suspected that you irish-goodbyed him at his own childhood home, he would come searching for you to drag you back out–especially since he had been drinking. you took a deep breath before you started down the stairs, trying to calm yourself down so paige didn’t notice she was getting to you. 

when you got to the bottom of them and walked down the hall, you saw paige in the kitchen leaning against the counter. she was gripping it like it would run away, her head hung between her arms like she was struggling with something. with the way it made her muscles pop, you wouldn’t be surprised if drool started dripping from your lips.

“hey,” you said casually as you entered the kitchen. 

her head immediately snapped up to look at you, and she seemed stunned for a few moments, too shocked to even reply. she shouldn’t have been, she knows you are here and she followed you inside. you visibly chuckled at her, but she just watched you as you moved past her to grab a drink from the fridge. 

“need another?” you asked, grabbing a random can from the shelf and holding it out for her. she stared at it for a few seconds before slowly reaching out for it. 

“thank you,” she said quietly.

you cracked your own can open to take a drink, holding eye contact with her while doing so. she held her breath, clearly nervous about where this was going but you had a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“i’m glad you’re here,” you say, leaning your hip next to her hands against the counter. “i was beginning to think i’d never see you again.” 

she pushed herself off, copying your position while facing you to use the height difference to her advantage. holy shit, when had she gotten this tall? well, she had been that height since high school, but the new body made her seem more powerful in her stance. she used to be a lanky kid who grew too fast for own body to keep up. she seemed to have gathered her composure as she smirked. 

“are you saying you missed me?” she asked, seemingly assuming that she could make you nervous. you were a little nervous, but you knew you had the upper hand in this situation.

you tilted your head flirtatiously. “yeah, i did, but i didn’t expect you to look so...” you paused like you were coming up with a word to use, “different.”  

she raised her eyebrows in shock, struggling to swallow from nervousness as her lips parted. you glanced at them then back at her eyes, knowing what you were doing. she seemed to be searching any part of her brain for a coherent reply, but was coming back with nothing. 

you just smiled, taking a step back and walking back onto the porch to rejoin the conversation you had abandoned. and for the rest of the evening, you could feel paige’s eyes on you again, but you made zero effort to give her a glance back.

after the party had died down and it was far later than you intended to be awake, you sat in one of the chairs that had been left out with a drink in your hands, watching the water. you were below the deck, so just slightly out of the line of sight from the house so no one could see you and come interrupt your moment. that is, until you heard paige walking down the rickety old wooden steps. she jumped a little, like she had not expected to see someone there, but quickly recovered. you watched her for a moment before gesturing to the chair next to you in a silent command for her to sit down. she did, of course she did. 

“what are you doing awake?” you ask in an accusing way, like she was in trouble.

she laughed at your tone. “trying to figure out what different means.” 

admittedly, you were not expecting that answer or even anything similar to it. it took you a little off guard, but you were able to not make it obvious. she sat back in her chair casually, staring at you with intensity, waiting for the answer, and you did your best to match it.

“what do you want it to mean?” you asked.

“i don’t know,” she shrugged. “you’re the one who said it.” 

you chuckled and looked away, nodding at her words. she obviously had an answer she was searching for, and you had one that probably aligned with it, but you did not want to give it to her right away. 

“you’re not gonna tell me?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

you shook your head stubbornly, making eye contact with her again. “i think you know.” 

the air between you two was suddenly loaded, tiptoeing over the line that had never been crossed. you both knew where this was going, and you could cut the tension with a knife. though, she didn’t seem very patient to get the answer. 

her tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip. she hesitated for a moment, suddenly aware of how close your chairs were. “i want you to say it.”

you pretended to think about it for a moment, even adding a little hum for dramatic effect.

“nah.”

you figured that would be the end of that, that you had made paige just nervous enough to back down. she would go back into the house and overthink this interaction. but she didn’t. she leaned in toward you, her eyes shifting to stare at your lips instead. she stopped just before your noses were touching. 

“c’mon,” she murmured, brushing your noses together. “tell me.”

you consider giving into her game. you consider closing the gap and pressing your lips together in the kiss she’s obviously baiting for, to give her exactly what she wants. what she’s been waiting for. 

but you don’t. 

you bite your lip, turning your head forward toward the water.

“shoot,” you say as you stand, “i’m beat. think i better get to bed.” 

she stares up at you with parted lips in shock, thinking she was going to finally get what she wanted. and she will, you intend to, but not right now. you want to tease her, string her along a bit more, make her desperate for it. but you didn’t have much time left to do so.

you walk back up the stairs of the porch without looking back at her, proudly smirking to yourself like it was an accomplishment. she stares at you as you do, not even able to be annoyed at how that played out. she doesn’t know why. she always gets what she wants, so she didn’t know why she wasn’t angry, let alone annoyed.

when you made it up to your bedroom, you closed the door softly to not wake anyone and flopped onto the bed. you stared at the ceiling with your arms crossed across your chest, thinking about how you were going to approach this. part of you wishes you had just given in and gotten what you both wanted, but this was fun. it was fun to know that you had power over her, the girl who would call herself the ultimate rizzler. maybe she was back at school, but you had yet to see it. here, she was all nervous smiles and glances and gentle touches that could be mistaken for something else. you had been the ones leading the conversations that were loaded with anything but friendliness. 

even though he made jokes about it sometimes, you wondered if elijah would be mad about this. apparently, he used to love telling paige that you were home or that you’d be at a game to test her and see if she would react. she tried not to, but everyone could see right through it. which you had just learned this week from your dad after he had a few too many drinks. paige tried to play it cool, but you didn’t miss the blush that rose to her cheeks as he told the stories. 

well, even if he would be mad, it’s not like you have to tell him. it’s not like you’re asking for her hand in marriage. you doubt that paige would tell him anything because why would he want to hear that stuff about his sister? you definitely wouldn’t want to hear about him from girls that he hooked up with.

the sound of a door closing in the hallway broke you from your thoughts. you knew it was paige’s, that she had finally come inside for the night. even though you wanted to keep her waiting longer, your body betrayed you as you pushed yourself off the bed and walked to your door. your hand hesitated on the knob for a second, because really, what were you doing? but you opened it nonetheless. 

unfortunately, paige’s door was directly in front of yours. to make up for it, you stood stupidly in front of her door, contemplating just turning around and going back to bed. you didn’t know what to say or do once she opened it–if she opened it anyway. you almost wish she wouldn’t.

before you could even convince yourself not to, you knocked on the wood twice in an attempt not to wake anyone else up. you could hear shuffling from within the room, making your mind wander to what paige could be doing in there. you didn’t have too long to think about it before the door was creaking open, though. 

her expression was a mix of emotions–both surprised and not surprised to see you standing there. surprised that you were standing there knocking on her door in the middle of the night, but not surprised because you were the only other person awake. she stared at you for a few moments, not really knowing what to say. 

you didn’t know what to say either, but it didn’t matter. you reached your hand out to fist the collar of her shirt, pulling her down to your height and crashing your lips together. she made a surprised sound in the back of her throat, but quickly recovered to kiss back with an open-mouthed, heated intensity that you weren’t expecting. her hands flew to your waist, using them to tug you into the room. you used your other hand to close the door, so she took advantage of the opportunity to press your back against it, pressing your bodies together. you didn’t even realize that your hand had released the grip on her collar and had a light grip on her throat. 

you must’ve accidentally squeezed because she whimpered against your lips, snapping you back to reality. you pulled away breathlessly, a look of disbelief in her eyes. you just smiled, leaning forward to give her another peck. 

she tried to chase you, but you just whispered, “goodnight, paige.” 

and with that, you spun on her heel, opening the door and closing it behind you. your heart was racing from what you just did, and you almost wanted to skip back to your room from the giddiness. that wasn’t even your intention, but you knew it would definitely linger in her mind.

behind the door, paige was staring at it in shock. her hands were still in the same position they were in on your waist and her jaw dropped. one, because she couldn’t believe that actually happened. and two, because you really did her like that. like, what the actual fuck? she had half a mind to march her ass across the hallway and give her a piece of her mind.

she didn’t, though. she did exactly what you wanted–didn’t sleep, just stared at the ceiling wondering if she was hallucinating.

you thought that you would probably do the same, but as soon as you laid down, you found yourself falling asleep. 

at around 10am the following morning, there was a knock at your door. you groaned loudly, extremely annoyed that someone decided to wake you up from the best sleep you had in months. they were polite, at least, because they were waiting for you to answer instead of barging in (so it definitely was not your parents). you huffed as you sat up in bed, throwing the covers dramatically and padded over to the door. 

you turned the knob and pulled it open to see paige standing there with a disheveled bun like she had been tossing and turning all night, and a blank look like she was trying to mask how she was really feeling. it woke you up, suddenly remembering what you had done to her last night. before you could even say anything, she was using one hand to push you back into the room and closed the door behind her, eyes on yours the whole time. 

“good morning to you, too,” you laughed.

“you think this is funny?” she deadpanned. it definitely caught you a little off guard, and had you wondering if she was genuinely angry at you. you definitely wouldn’t blame her if she was, but you also didn’t really think it was that serious. 

“maybe a little,” you shrugged nonchalantly. though, you didn’t really feel nonchalant at the moment. your heart was pounding against your ribcage and you were struggling to control your breathing, but you hoped it wasn’t obvious to her.

she blew a laugh out of her nose, clearly unamused, and rolled her eyes. you watched as she bit the inside of her cheek, but you couldn’t tell if she was trying to figure out what to say next or if she was genuinely upset.

“y’know what you do to me?” 

you tilt your head slightly, raising your eyebrows like you’re confused–playing dumb. obviously you do, you both know that, but this was unclaimed territory. you had never really been friends, let alone anything close to where you are now, and everything changed last night. you would never be able to take back the one thing that completely changed the trajectory. 

“tell me,” you say so softly it was almost a whisper.

“i think you know,” she replies with a smirk, copying you from last night.

you hesitate for a few moments to weigh your options on where to go from here. you know you could keep asking and she would probably tell you, but she’s even more stubborn than you. you could leave her hanging for the third time in twenty-four hours, but what’s the fun in that?

“i do.”

she swallows hard, clearly not expecting an upfront answer like that. she completely expected you to dance around the subject like you had been–to keep her wondering and hanging onto an idea that she wasn’t even sure was real. not that she had a reason to doubt anymore after last night. her face was unreadable, but you could tell that she was nervous now. she didn’t expect that answer, and now wasn’t really sure what to do. she didn’t think she’d get this far, to be honest. 

instead of waiting for her to make the first move like you planned, you put your hands on her waist, fisted her shirt, and backed her against the door like she did to you last night. her breathing sped up enough for you to see the shallow rise and fall of her chest, relishing in the power you had at the moment. you pressed your bodies together and brushed your noses together, not wanting to close the gap yet. her lips parted as you did so, her eyes closing in anticipation. 

a smile rises to your face when you decide to pull away again, loving this game you were playing. she seemed to not return the feeling, though, because she automatically reached out to grab your throat and crash your lips together again. you expected it to be intense and fast like last night, but she kissed you slow and sensually like she was trying to savor the moment–like she didn’t know if this would ever happen again. 

you loosened the grip on her shirt to press your hands on the small of her back and press your bodies impossibly closer. she tangled her other hand in your hair, but didn’t pull. 

“you’re drivin’ me crazy,” she whispered into your mouth, but didn’t give you any time to reply.

the heat of your lips and bodies pressing together was more passionate than you had ever felt in your life. you didn’t know what it was–if it was the anticipation or the amount of want between the two of you. she was definitely still holding back, and you wanted paige to let her guard down fully. 

the hand she had on your throat slid down slightly to your chest, using the position to lightly push you backwards. you didn’t even take the time to think about what she was doing, but her intentions were clear when the back of your legs hit the bed. she gave you a light shove so you fell backwards, your back hitting the soft mattress with a soft thud. she didn’t waste any time grabbing the hem of her shirt and pulling it over her head as she smirked down at you, exposing her black nike sports bra. 

you figured she would immediately crawl on top of you to continue kissing you, but she sank to her knees in front of you. you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch her curiously. she held eye contact as her palms smoothed over the skin of your legs from your ankles up to your knees. then, she leaned forward to place a soft kiss along the inside of your knee, trailing up your thighs slowly with close-mouthed pecks. when she reached the hem of your shorts, she placed a kiss to your other leg and trailed back down to your other knee, her hands coming up to smooth over your thighs. 

wetness pooled in your shorts at the touch. even though you would be content going slow if you were in her position, you wanted her to speed up and move to where you wanted her the most. it was only okay when you teased like this. 

and you thought she was going to give in as you watched her face get closer, but instead, she used both hands to push up your t-shirt to expose your abdomen and placed a kiss just above the waistband of your shorts. she started to trail her kisses up your stomach toward your breasts, but you interrupted her.

“paige,” you groaned in annoyance, trying to resist the urge to push her head down. 

she just laughed against your skin. “what?” she asked with a combination of amusement and innocence dripping in her tone.

you rolled your eyes with an exasperated sigh. honestly, you had no right to be complaining after last night, but that was your game to play. you were supposed to be the one in control of the situation, not her.

“i thought you were patient,” she accused playfully. 

“i never claimed to be,” you replied, but you knew exactly what she was referring to anyway. 

she shook her head, a light chuckle leaving her lips. one of her hands traveled from your shirt slowly down your stomach to your shorts, teasingly tracing over your clit through the fabric. the sensation was more intense than you thought it would be due to your lack of underwear. you expected her to move her hand again when she noticed, just to keep you waiting, but instead, she lowered her hand and mouthed over it through the fabric. you sighed, placing one of your hands on the back of her head.

her pointer finger hooked around the waistband of your shorts to tug them down. you lifted your hips directly into her face to assist her, causing her to laugh, but you didn’t even think about it. you just wanted her to stop wasting time, to stop teasing. once your shorts are off, she doesn’t do anything for almost an entire minute, just stares at you to take it all in. she almost wanted to pinch herself to make sure it wasn’t all a dream. 

“paige,” you impatiently groan again, “seriously.”

without any hesitation, she leans forward and flattens her tongue to lick a stripe from your entrance up to your clit while making sure she’s holding eye contact the whole time. you bite back a moan, not wanting anyone in the house to hear you. but when she starts to circle your clit with her tongue at a fast pace that you weren’t expecting, you can’t hold it back. her hips buck forward slightly and thighs clench together at the sound, loving that she is the one making you feel like that.

you should’ve known she would be good at this. you’re sure she has all the girls falling to her knees back in storrs, connecticut. she probably has so many girls crying over her, wishing they would be next, and you say a silent thank you to whoever taught her to do this so you could experience it. 

one of her fingers traces your entrance lightly causing you to grasp her hair, probably messing up her bun, but neither of you care. she pushes two fingers inside you and your back arches off the mattress. they curl inside you as she pumps them in and out slowly. the contrast of her tongue quickly circling and her fingers moving slowly makes you buck into her face, and she moans against you. you can’t help the way your eyes roll to the back of your head at the feeling. 

she pulls her mouth away to gauge your reaction, speeding up her fingers and using her thumb against your clit to make up for it. 

“does that feel good?” she asks lowly, but you couldn’t help but notice that she sounds genuine too. like she isn’t confident in her abilities–her amazing abilities, mind you.

you open your eyes to meet hers, seeing a genuinely curious glint in her eyes. “so good, paige. you’re doing so good for me.” 

her eyes widen, hips bucking forward again. you hadn’t even touched her yet but she was having to squeeze her thighs together to keep from coming in her pants. she couldn’t help it though–the teasing, the sensual kisses, your moans caused by her. it was shocking too, she doesn’t know if she has ever gotten off this much and this fast just from pleasing someone else.  maybe it’s because it’s you, the girl she’s been waiting for to finally look her way.

her mouth is back on you again, but this time, instead of her fingers moving slowly while her tongue quickly swirls, her fingers are moving fast too. they’re curling inside you desperately trying to find your spot. it’s so much, and you can feel the pressure building in your stomach already. 

“shit,” you moan, trying to hold back your release. “fucking me like you were made for me.” 

but then she moans against you again, and that’s all you need before your stomach tenses and you’re coming on her fingers. she keeps the pace, working you through it relentlessly which drags it out much longer than you expected it to last. 

you twitch as you begin to come down, but paige doesn’t stop. 

“w-wait–fuck, paige,” you stutter out. your hips attempt to buck away, but she throws her arm across your hips and squeezes to keep you in place, and your unoccupied hand presses against her forehead. you apply a little pressure, but not enough to actually push her off. it’s too much but it feels so good–you can’t decide if you want her to keep going or stop. 

“i’m not done,” she murmurs–or maybe whimpers is the more appropriate word. 

you moan loudly as your thighs clench tightly around her head, but she doesn’t care. she continues to fuck her fingers into you at an intense pace, circling her tongue like she wasn’t losing any stamina. it only takes about a minute before you’re falling apart again, but you can’t even bring yourself to be embarrassed about it. 

with your head thrown back against the mattress, you don’t even notice the way she’s clenching her thighs to hide her own orgasm. 

luckily (or unluckily), she slows her pace this time to help you work through it. when you finally came down, she pulled her fingers out causing you to wince at the sudden emptiness. then, she slowly stood, trying to cover up the way her legs were shaking a little bit. she sheepishly bit her lip, hoping you didn’t notice the way she had just came in her pants in a touchless orgasm. 

you do notice her legs shaking, though. you sit up, placing your hands on the sides of her thighs and smoothing over the skin. 

“you’re shaking,” your voice is soft as you say it, and she can’t meet your eyes. 

your hands quickly move up to tug her shorts down her thighs. when she realizes what you’re doing, she scrambles to help you. after she steps out of them, you move your hands to her hips to tug her into your lap. she complies, straddling your thighs awkwardly. clearly, she didn’t do this often either. you groan when she settles herself down completely, feeling the wetness through her underwear brush against the muscle of your thigh. not only that, but the way her clit is pulsing too.

“fuck, paige,” you moan, looking up at her with amazement, “did you come already?”

“no,” she replies a little too quickly. but you don’t miss the way her cheeks turn red.

“you’re so cute,” you laugh, leaning forward to press your lips together. 

she cradled your face in her hands as your lips move together slowly. you used the placement of your hands on her hips to grind her against your thigh.

“is that okay?” you whispered against her lips. 

she started to grind her hips slowly on her own, then whispered, “yes.” 

“i want you to make yourself come again.” 

you pulled your lips away from hers to kiss down her neck, nipping at the skin while making sure you didn’t leave any marks so she didn’t get in trouble with her coaches. she threw her head back in a moan at the feeling. 

“you look so good in my lap like this,” you reply. “so desperate for me.” 

her head drops to bury itself in your neck, a whimper leaving her lips. one of her hands gripped at the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling slightly. you couldn’t help but smile at her even though she couldn’t see it. 

“feels so good,” she whispered hesitantly like she was nervous to say anything. “never want to stop. i could fuck you all day.” 

you moan as your hips bucked up to meet hers causing your thigh to press against her harder. 

“fuck, i’m gonna–” she didn’t even get to finish her sentence before she was crying out and coming hard on your thigh, still sensitive from her orgasm earlier. 

“that’s it, baby. so good for me,” you say, smoothing your hands over her back in a comforting way. 

when she came down and stopped twitching, you wrapped your arms tightly around her waist and pulled her back as you allowed your back to meet the mattress, her lying on top of you. giggles erupted from her lips at the action which caused you to laugh at the adorable sound. 

“we should do that again sometime.” 

[tobesolnelyx]

WAIT PLS WRITE ABOUT PRECRASH SHAUNA AND TRANSMASC READER PLS PLS! MAYBE SHAUNA HEARS SOMEONE PICKING ON HER BF?

☠️

— daylight || shauna shipman x tmasc!reader (pre-crash) 🐶

a/n: hi ☠️anon!! came up with something like that. hope you like it <3 inspired slightly by "daylight" - taylor swift.

summary: shauna won't let anyone insult her man. fluff. overprotective!shauna. girlfriend!shauna.

warnings: transphobia. misogyny. slight nsfw

word count: around 1.7k

Life as a transgender boy in the ’90s was never going to be… particularly kind. Of course, you had no intention of coming out to anyone — not yet. It was simply too risky. People barely understood the queer community, let alone the concept of being transgender. It was just too dangerous. You didn’t want to risk being beaten up or bullied at school. And that’s not even touching the fact that you had no idea how you'd explain it to your parents. It felt safer to stay hidden, at least for now.

Maybe that plan would’ve worked — if you didn’t have a girlfriend.

You kept it from her for a long time, holding the truth close like something fragile. But one day, you just… couldn’t anymore. You had marched into Shauna’s room, intending to spend some quiet time with her, and before she could even say a word, it came bursting out of you like a shot:

“I think I’m trans.”

You knew you were. But you didn’t want to scare her. That’s why the hesitation crept in. It was sudden, clumsy. You hadn’t rehearsed, hadn’t planned it. You’d always imagined coming out would be some big, momentous thing — something you’d prepare for, practice in your head for hours. But it wasn’t. Four words. Out of nowhere. And it was done.

The silence that followed was awful. You could hear nothing but the pounding of your own heart. Shauna could break up with you. She’d have every right to — in a way. What she felt for you, whether it would still hold, that was a deeper, far more uncertain question. You stood frozen, bracing for whatever might come next. Your hands had gone clammy, your breath shallow.

But Shauna didn’t panic. She didn’t cry or shout. She wasn’t an expert in these things, but she understood enough. And she didn’t look like someone blindsided by a revelation. For a moment, she just stood there, her wide doe eyes fixed on you — and so you tried again, just to be sure.

“I am… I feel—”

“I understand,” she said softly, and you held your breath.

For a moment, she did nothing. But then, as the truth settled into place in her mind, she looked at you differently. As though she were seeing you clearly — really seeing you — for the very first time. A shaky breath escaped your lips just as she pulled you into a fierce embrace.

Shauna had never been one for words, not really. But this was enough. Her fingers drifted gently along your back, and she kissed your shoulder.

At first, it was awkward. Not because Shauna had a problem with it—she didn’t. Breaking up wasn’t even on her radar. To her, gender didn’t change how she felt. She knew she loved you. That was the only part that mattered. It just took her a little time to get used to the fact that she had a boyfriend now.

It took her about two weeks to really settle into it. Sometimes she messed up, said the wrong pronouns out of habit. And every time, her eyes would go wide like she’d just kicked a puppy. She’d apologize immediately, panicked, terrified she’d accidentally hurt you. Even when you told her it was fine, she’d spend the rest of the day sticking close to you, watching you like you might vanish if she blinked.

She even ripped pages out of her old journals—anywhere she’d written your deadname or used the wrong pronouns. She stopped using your old name altogether. Somehow, she always found a way to work around it when other people were around, especially when the whole team went out after a game.

At diners or fast-food joints, when someone used the wrong name, she’d grab your hand under the table and squeeze it. Just enough to say I see you. I’ve got you. And when you were alone, she’d drop little affirming comments like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Sometimes she’d cuddle up behind you, resting her chin on your shoulder, lips near your ear, and whisper:

“Hey, pretty boy.”

Then she’d press a kiss to your neck, and you’d smile like an idiot for the next hour. It was the same when you started shopping together. She’d help you pick out boxers, sometimes bought you clothes that were more masculine just so your parents wouldn’t start asking questions.

You knew they wouldn’t let you cut your hair. So she did it for you.

Her hands were shaking the whole time. Shauna didn’t know shit about cutting hair, but she was determined. And honestly? She didn’t do too bad.

“Well, it’s not worse than before,” you joked, stretching in the chair. She was behind you, snipping at uneven pieces, brows pulled together in deep concentration. She looked ridiculously cute like that—like she was trying to solve a problem in physics class which she hated, not giving her boyfriend a makeshift haircut. She kept pausing, looking at your hair, then your face, like she was double-checking something only she understood.

“I’ll get better at it,” she muttered under her breath. And you knew she would. She’d keep cutting your hair as long as you asked her to—and she’d learn how to do it right. Cause it’s Shauna.

When she finished, she ruffled your hair and leaned in to kiss your forehead.

“You were already cute,” she said, smiling, “but now you’re next-level handsome.”

The bathroom was covered in stray hair, total disaster zone, but neither of you cared.

“Wow, Shipman,” you laughed. “That was so fucking cheesy.”

She rolled her eyes, but neither of you could stop smiling for the rest of the night.

Well, to the moment when few kisses turned into hot make out session. Next minute you were kneeling between her legs, tongue buried deep inside her hot cunt. Shauna was gently tugging your hair, moaning quietly.

"God," She gasped, digging nails into your scalp. "G-good fucking boy," She whimpered, when her legs started trembling.

Shauna had something of an obsession with protecting you. Not because she thought you couldn’t defend for yourself—she knew you could. But because, in her mind, you were something worth guarding. You weren’t her possession, not exactly, but you were her boyfriend. And she couldn’t imagine existing in a world that didn’t include you. You had become part of her routine, her day, like something inevitable. A Habit. Something constant. And she had no intention of giving that up.

Certainly not to anyone who might try to hurt you.

After you cut your hair and changed your style, the comments began. It wasn’t outright bullying, but it was enough. Enough to weigh on you. Enough for people to whisper. To label you a freak. You didn’t say much, but Shauna could see it—it was in the way your shoulders slumped just slightly, the way you exhaled deeply like you were bracing yourself for the next wave and trying not to let it reach you.

She told you not to pick fights with idiots. Especially the ones on the baseball team.

And it didn’t help that you and Shauna had to keep your relationship secret. Not that anyone would have understood. Maybe a few—Van, Tai, the rare exception. But the risk was too big. You didn’t want her going through the same shits you were.

Only, Shauna wasn’t good at hiding how she felt. Especially when anger overtook her body the way a storm overtakes the sea—fast, violent, impossible to reason with. When she got mad, her mind melted into static and she thought only about setting this whole fucked up world on fire.

It was bound to happen eventually.

That day, she was already on edge. Her day had been a mess, and the only thing she wanted was to see you. To sit beside you in the car and maybe rest her head on your shoulder. She crossed the parking lot in long, quick strides, scanning for your familiar shape, when she saw you—walking past the baseball field. She sped up, ready to call out, when she heard it.

They were talking about you. Nothing she hadn’t heard before. That you were weird. That you were probably just a gross dyke, or worse. Normally, she would’ve muttered something under her breath and moved on.

But then someone said it.

“I’d fuck that freak—just to show her what it’s like with a real man.”

Shauna stopped mid-step. Heat surged up her spine like fire. Her vision narrowed to the boy in the cap grinning like a moron on the field, and something inside her snapped.

“I’m sorry—what?” she said, her voice sharp enough to slice glass. It wasn’t her business, not directly. She didn’t care. She wasn’t about to walk away and pretend she hadn’t heard. Not from this idiot.

He turned to her with that same idiot smirk, dipping into a mock bow.

Shauna didn’t smile. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her gym bag before she let it fall to the ground with a dull thud.

“Hey, Shipman…” he started, clearly recognizing her. Of course he did. Everyone in that school knew who she was—Yellowjackets midfielder. They’d seen each other at practices before.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” she hissed, stepping closer. Her voice was loud enough for you to hear—whatever this was. You paused mid-step, your brow creasing as you turned toward them.

Shauna looked like a dog seconds from attack.

“You complete fucking idiot…”

“Shauna?” you called, already moving. But she wasn’t listening. Her fists clenched. Her jaw locked. Her expression was one of pure fury—and something colder. Disgust.

“You sexist piece of shit,” she growled, shoving him hard in the chest.

He stumbled backward, more stunned than hurt, but before he could get a word in, there was a sharp crack—her palm colliding with his face.

His friend froze. He didn’t move. Just stared like a goldfish out of water.

“Hey!” the boy barked, his hand curling around a baseball bat.

You reached Shauna just in time, grabbing her arms before she could lunge again. She didn’t struggle, but she wasn’t ready to leave either. She held herself taut as a wire, waiting.

The boy touched his cheek, now flushed red, eyes locked on her like he couldn’t quite believe what had happened.

“Say something like that again,” Shauna said, her voice low and shaking with rage, “and I swear I’ll gut you like a pig.”

Then she turned on her heel, brushing off your hands, and walked back toward her car as if nothing had happened.

You stood in place for a second, stunned, running a hand through your hair and trying to understand what exactly had just happened.

Later that evening, when you asked her about it, she wouldn’t tell you.

Maybe it was better that you hadn’t heard the whole thing. She’d only buried her face in your neck murmuring sleepily something about having prettiest boyfriend.

[rei-ismyname]

Teen Cyclops gets hit with EMOTIONS 🫠😭🤩🥹😬🥴

AKA I get emotions too, linking and contrasting theory + my disability experience with Scott's.

Yung Cyke is loving his time away from the X-Men and the freedom it allows him to *loosen up.* Lacking context, The Champions view him as repressed and phlegmatic in the extreme. They're right, but he's not an old man - he's just a kid who went from constant trauma to a life of intense responsibility. I think Seinfeld is cringe, but I'm aware that many many people enjoyed it. Scott liking it is more a sign of his time displacement than anything else, though I do wonder if he identifies with any of the characters. Hints of Costanza, most likely. Not sure any are a great fit - what do you think? Newman?

Anyway, my point is that he is benefiting from his newly expanded social circle but The Champions are not Danger Room kids. They don't know that this IS Slim getting out of his comfort zone. A fake moustache isn't the most complicated costume, but you'd never see 'leader of the X-Men' Scott do it. He probably wouldn't even join them, assuming Chuck let them out for Halloween. Kamala and Miles want to see get inside that brain - let's see how they respond when they get their wish.

The catalyst is this jerkoff - Psycho Man. He's a long story, let's just simplify it by saying that he has a machine that fucks with people's emotions. He's using it nefariously until Scott blasts it to pieces and demands his surrender. He flees instead, but Scott has been affected by it and opens his Pandora's Box of repression.

The Champions know something is off when Scott abandons his indoor voice and starts ... acting up. When he smashed the machine some feedback hit him right in the pineal gland or hippocampus, unlocking his emotions on a primal level. Anger and adrenaline flood through him and everyone realises they're in for some X-Men shit. Well, they don't know that at all actually, but the vibe of a dam about to burst is clear and present.

Peppy would be proud.

They still let him fly the team vehicle, perhaps unwisely. Scott really enjoys the freedom of flying - 'no responsibility, no one complaining or making you feel bad.' I wonder what he's referring to with those awfully specific things. No time to worry about that because Scott leans into it and does a barrel roll, scaring TF out of everyone.

They wisely get him off the stick and Kamala brushes it off as 'goofing.' That really sets him off into a shame spiral, though I don't think they truly internalise that this bit is not exactly exaggerated. 'I'm not allowed to screw up. I can't make a single mistake ever! I can't ever let anybody down. If I do then what good am I?'

None of these people know Charles Xavier very well, but if they did they'd probably slap him. I feel like this is the moment when they connected young Slim to the guy that killed Xavier while possessed by the Phoenix. The fact that he's a nosy telepath who raised Scott exacerbates the Fridge Horror. The unhealthy mantras and the beliefs informing them had to come from somewhere, and Scott himself learning about that 'loss of control' didn't have the same shock as the rest of the O5. My reading is that he was offended and embarrassed by the idea he'd lose control - like it's a failure of character.

After seemingly getting a hold of himself and being quiet for a while, Scott openly expresses fear. The team is confused so he elaborates. He's scared of himself, scared of his eyes, scared of losing control. He's scared of killing anyone let alone his father figure. Pathologically terrified, even, and it occupies his every waking moment. He doubts their friendship while lamenting how people see him, without denying his hypervigilance and how it isolates him.

Scott wants to be social and carefree but he doesn't feel like he's allowed to. I can relate. My disability doesn't have the power to hurt people (except myself through inaction or accident) but it's isolating AF and requires hypervigilance every moment I'm awake. People, even close friends and family, don't take it seriously and that sucks. Blame and pressure exacerbate the difficulty of managing my functionality, and round and round it goes. 'What's stopping you?' is a familiar refrain, no matter how many times I explain it. It's exhausting.

Isolation is one aspect of the disability experience - it informs and intersects with exclusion, often passively. There's rarely anyone directly saying 'you can't do this thing;' it's often the way the world, society is constructed - for the able bodied. Nothing fits, or allows you to fit. I know I grieve my former degree of functionality and the things I simply can't participate in. I became disabled at 28, and I'm sure there's nuance for folks born with disabilities or that get worse over time - but I can't speak to that lived experience. No matter what though, as Scott says, 'it just takes.' His 'unable to cry' statement is one I don't recall hearing before this run, but it casts Scott's decades of emotional clodes-offness in a new light. It's a strong character beat that fits seamlessly with his established behaviour and publication history. I usually don't get so personal in my analysis but woof - this hit me HARD. The combination of resentment and hypervigilance over my body and how it is perceived is particularly close to home. So too is sharing with sympathetic friends - they get it, but they also don't.

Round two with Captain Fucko happens while Scott is still affected, and he dips the fuck out. The action is truncated by Tumblr's image limits but his love and protectiveness kicks into overdrive and manifests violently - nearly killing Psycho-Man. Kamala has to step in with the disability aid assist, though it's nice nobody judges him. After letting out all the emotions and optic blasts he has Scott is tapped and falls unconscious.

Even this act of vulnerability, putting himself in other people's hands, is fraught. I'd find that difficult without a checklist of invisible needs to consider, and that's a lot of labour to expect from someone else. Emotional AND physical. That in turn breeds guilt and resentment, as nobody can be a carer forever and negotiating any period of carer/caree relationship is incredibly challenging. The power dynamics and your needs as labor can poison the closest relationship. Nobody wants to be dependent, or even a burden, but needs are needs. Many go without.

It's a little ambiguous if Scott remembers the events of the day, but it's heavily implied he does. He's not embarrassed, per se, but The Champions didn't opt in to Scott Summers trauma dumping and giving them an out is gracious. It's his feelings and they're valid, but they were forced out of him by an attack.

I daresay the team understands what makes Scott tick a lot better, and nobody gives him shit for being uptight after this. The above panel is supplemental, but I think it fits perfectly. I believe it was an overall cathartic experience for Yung Cyke - it feels good to let out every now and then.

The flipside of never talking about it again is that it really is easier to just not engage with disability whether they're close to you or not. It's labour however you slice it and in my experience the reality of permanent disability is depressing to think about. The reality that you're not going to get better is outside context for most, fortunately. That's part of what makes it labour, work. Personally I have found it hard to not be resentful, frustrated, and jealous of having the privilege of not thinking about it. I work to not make it other people's problem, balancing that with the support that's offered.

The majority of my close friends these days are disabled themselves, and navigating that paradigm with two or more people is exponentially more difficult. Some days I don't have the energy to give and vice versa, so I definitely get it. Putting it into action is another story, but balancing needs and availability is part of any relationship. The well-meaning group conspiracy of silence in the last panel (probably) isn't realistic, but it can certainly feel like it. If you got this far, thanks for reading! This is not the post I set out to make, but sometimes it just flows out of you. I'm glad it did, as I need to apply a disability theory lens to my writing more often. The theory and the personal would ideally be further apart, but I needed to get this out. ❤️

[aardvaark]

leverage rewatch: s1e6 "the miracle job"

its cute that they're all being invited to sophie's plays apparently, though clearly it's not so much as invitation as it is an obligation lol. but it's cute she wants them there and they all go and try to pretend it was good. i mean, parker says "it was like a horror movie" lmao but that seems to be her attempt at praising it.

eliot saying that sophie's play was THE worst night of his life, including times he was actually tortured, is always hilarious to me.

the first maggie mention!! she's the one who calls nate to tell him that his priest friend paul is in hospital.

nate thinking he has to convince the team to take the case (since it's kinda a personal favor to a friend after all), but they're all very much in already! they're well and truly past needing to be convinced. and we're only at ep 6. compare this to the wedding job, ep 3, when nate doesn't want to take the job and they all (besides sophie) want to bail partway through.

eliot being excited to take hardison to face a gang. "let's get you out in some fresh air. get you off the computer. come on!". love that his argument is that getting into a fight would be good for hardison's health.

hardison: i rappelled! did no one see me rappel?? sophie: i heard about it. on the one hand she's saying that to soothe him, which seems sweet, but on the other hand, she's likely only doing that to encourage him to leave with eliot to face that gang lol. this season especially, many of her nice gestures tend to be either a little manipulative or shallow. which just makes sense - she's spent her life looking out only for herself, ultimately alone no matter how many people are around her. her default mode is to manipulate people into what she wants them to do, without even thinking about whether that's necessary or hurtful. it's just her job. it's gonna take a lot more than six episodes to change a lifetime of ingrained beliefs about other people and the world.

hardison gets to punch someone!! not only does he notice the guy's shoulder being off, he also knows it's dislocated, where nate just sad it was "messed up". i love seeing hardison apply his intelligence to problems outside hacking, cause it really goes to show how he's so quick-thinking and a genius in any situation.

for the record, gina bellman spent her early childhood in aotearoa, so i can only assume she's doing a decent job of the kiwi accent.

also i love when sophie looks all offended when the marks don't immediately play into her con lol, even though she's well aware this mark would likely brush her off - that's the whole point of setting up the elevator con. but she still makes this face like "uh! wowww, rude," lol.

who let parker choose the drugs to give this guy lmao?? like of course she laced them with speed, that's on the rest of the team for assuming she'd stick to just caffeine. when has she ever done anything by halves?

and that pays off a few mins later when nate says "parker, i need you to go to the hospital and keep father paul there no matter what [pause] up to a point" lol. he's learning. doesn't help that she has the most evil grin ever when he says that lmao.

and THEN it immediately turns out that parker took his words as permission to poke the priest with needles and take his blood. i wonder what she did with his blood...

hardison being able to make those fake statues too! he is ridiculously talented.

sophie having to remind nate that he never actually cheated on maggie is a little funny to me. and he's saying he was tempted and acting like he did something terrible and she's just like "dude i was there". but that scene's also so very bittersweet cause at this point she really is just waiting for him and here she tells him not to take too long, and, well...

i like how the actor playing this week's mark really takes the comic evil to its logical extreme. he looks feverish almost, in a frenzy. and the team has psychologically destroyed him and he's STILL coming up with new plans for bibletopia, probably the most capitalist hellscape christian-flavored invention imaginable. on that note, i also liked the priest and his arguments with nate, which you can tell comes from frustration with wanting to help a grieving, depressed friend who won't help himself. good guests this episode.

"it's the vatican" *parker, hardison & eliot immediately disappear*. i love the little implication there that they've each wronged the holy see at some point, enough to run off.

okay 1) the team using the confessional as a hiding spot, love it, and 2) parker refers to the confessional as "that closet" lol. apparently she knows that zeus is a god who strikes people down with lightning, but she doesn't know what a confessional is. i love how it's pretty much impossible to predict what things are within her realm of knowledge.

parker as an angel!

i LOVE the arc that the mark's assistant, tomas, has over the course of this episode. yes, good, take down your boss!!

sophie dropping the accent! god that really makes her scary. it's like she's saying, "just to be clear, the last few days have been a complete and utter lie, and there's no one who's got your back".

i like the way the team all watch nate light a candle (something catholics do for the dead), sincerely sombre. probably partly feeling for nate, partly thinking of their own grief. parker watches especially carefully, and takes a big breath in like she's overwhelmed. makes me think of how she suppresses her grief over her brother and so much loss she's experienced in her life.

eliot seems to put a hand on nate's shoulder as they exit the church. he also knows a thing or two about grief.

[highfantasy-soul]

I think Andor isn't against the characterizations in Rogue One, it's just against individual interpretations and if you spent ten years getting attached to that interpretation, yeah it can suck, but I'm seeing a lot of claims about Cassian's character from the movie that I really, really disagree with.

I didn't see anything dispirited in Cassian in Rogue One.

He's the one who tells Jyn rebellions are built on hope, the one desperate to get the message to base, he's the one who puts together a team while Jyn is trying to convince the council.

I think it's just headcanon that Cassian is a good soldier who never disobeyed who just got run down. It's a way you could interpret his actions, but only an interpretation that I don't think is really backed up by much in the movie itself. Why would a run-down rebel try to inspire someone to join the cause?

Saying Cassian changed dramatically when Jyn showed up is giving very 'Cassian just needed the love of a woman to be a better man' that just doesn't really feel like it fits the themes of the movie. Even Diego Luna says in the Rogue One press that Cassian sees a lot of himself in Jyn - they're very similar, which I think is enhanced with seeing him in Andor.

To me, Rogue One was about all these people seeing an opportunity to stand up and make a difference - not them seeing a woman who's just magically inspiring and following her. People seem to be trying to argue Rogue One is about a bunch of nobody's banding together to make a difference BUT ALSO it's about how super special Jyn is and how she magically brought them all together and inspired them to take action where they wouldn't have without her so showing Cassian following his own moral code and disobeying orders before meeting her is 'ruining' something.

It's 'collective action' vs 'the chosen one' and somehow people are arguing for both. Jyn didn't come to the rebellion with a gameplan, nor did she decide to go after her father alone - she didn't even know to spend time thinking about her father until the rebels broke her out of prison. It was a team effort. THAT was the point of Rogue One, to me, and I don't think it weakens Jyn's character at all. She's a piece of the puzzle that decided to stand up when given the opportunity just like Cassian did - and has been doing for a long time.

His big moment with her when she says "I'm not used to people sticking around when things go bad" and he responds "Welcome home" would make no sense if no one in the rebellion ever went out of their way to support someone else even when the council said no. Why would them coming with her against council orders be considered 'coming home' if that wasn't an established part of being part of the rebellion? If people only started disobeying orders because she showed up? It's 'home' because that's who Cassian IS and has ALWAYS been, Jyn just couldn't look past the rebel insignia to see it.

Idk, I've got a lot more I'm going to be posting about Cassian's characterization and how I feel like Andor perfectly set up Rogue One's Cassian per what we saw on screen - not headcanons. Jyn and Cassian's dynamic is fantastic and I think Andor enhanced that, it didn't invalidate it.

[jayaluvsyu]

A paragraph to my 2 fav boys:

@dolly4stxr : Please know I'll always love you. I'll never give up on you.

I'll stay by your side until death seperates us. I'll be here until-the very end. You're my only love. You deserve the world. I'm so sorry that I can be annoying at times I don't mean it I really don't. that's just the way I've been taught.

You make me feel like I belong here. You make me feel like I'm loveable, you make me feel appreciated, loved, welcomed, accepted.

You make me feel less weird.Make me feel like we have no boundaries when I tell you about things.

You're the best boyI could ever ask for, and I never want you to be upset with me. I hope we stick together forever. All the things we should do, all the things we should say, all the things we should think, just anything. Everything about you is so perfect there isn't even enough words in the dictionary to explain my love for you. I ve always felt like an outcast but you make me feel accepted. My pretty boy.

I'll try my hardest to never let you down. I mean it when I say I love you with my heart. I trusted you enough to open up to you. It takes so long for me to do that. Falling in love with your personality and way you talk to me so quickly was so worth it. I'm so happy that we talked that night, or else we never would have happened. You make me feel unexplainable emotions. I got so lucky to meet you. I got so lucky that you talked to me.

You're so special to me and I want you to know that. You don't even know what l would do for you. I love you so so much Ray💗💗

For @kartdeko : You're the sweetest boy I've ever met. Thank you so much for being here when nobody else was. Without you I wouldn't even be here right now. l'd probably be dead.

Even once I die, I'll always watch over you, I'll always follow you around. I'll be this biggest pain to get rid of because we all know I'm gonna try my hardest to not let that happen. Honestly you mean as much as my family means to me. I never want you to think I don't appreciate you because I do, I really do. You mean the world to me. I have no clue what I would do without you, and I don't want to find out.

I'll stay with you forever, until you want me gone. I love you. make you laugh. make u feel wanted. if i had a penny for every time i thought about you, I’d be a damn billionaire . what matters to me is You and I are Bestest Together I choose you. It's not really a difficult decision for me.

As soon as I saw you, my destiny was tied with yours. Some people don't or won't understand, some even won't like it.

But 1 | choose you

because my heart chose yours long before our we even met. I truly feel that we've loved one another before we even met. So my love, I'm comforted by the fact that my love for you is eternal, and that l will see you till the day I die. I want you, and everything that comes with you. I want all your amazing aspects and all you terrifying sides. If there was a word to describe the feelings I have for you it would be incredible because it is incredible how much l love you, how much I care about you, how I look at you, how I talk about you, and it is really just incredible how much l want you forever.I love you Ethan💞💞

(Hell yeah I’m glazing my boys tf I love them)

[currently-reading-a-book]

The Phantom’s Kiss

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: A brilliant FBI agent goes undercover to catch a phantom art thief—only to find himself entangled in a dangerous dance of seduction, secrets, and stolen hearts.

Genre: mystery, romance

Warning: kiss, art thief, seduction

Word Count: 994 words

Note: Hey cuties! I'm back. Sorry for being inactive for so long. Just had a creative writing block. This isn't my best work, but I really wanted to post something. So here you go! Also currently started my 5th book or smth (I really should stick to one and finish a draft)

A/N: As always, any criticism is very welcome. Sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes. English is not my first language. Not proofread.

Anyway, enjoy :)

✧ 🎀 -------------------------------------------------------------- 🎀 ✧

A ghost. This art thief was a ghost. Spencer couldn’t think otherwise. One moment he was there, and the next—gone. Gone with the art. The exclusive, prestigious art. His job was to catch the thief… but how do you catch a phantom? Someone who doesn’t exist?

Spencer Reid adjusted his cufflinks nervously, his heart pounding as he stepped into the grand foyer of the city’s most prestigious art gallery. Dressed in a tailored suit, he looked every bit the part of a wealthy art enthusiast, but his mind was focused on the mission.

As an FBI agent, Spencer had been assigned to work undercover to catch an elusive thief who had been targeting galleries across the city. Posing as a wealthy collector, he was determined to uncover the mystery behind the stolen masterpieces and bring the thief to justice. Just a simple job, he told himself.

The gallery buzzed with excitement as guests mingled among priceless pieces. The moon shone brightly through the towering glass windows, casting silver beams across polished marble floors. The building stood tall and modern in the heart of the bustling city. Spencer moved through the crowd, his keen eyes scanning for anything unusual.

“Art—it’s art that makes us feel the most, isn’t it?”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly at the soft voice beside him. A beautiful woman stood staring at a Monet, her chocolate-brown eyes fixed on the canvas with an intensity that drew him in. She wore an elegant gown that hugged her curves perfectly. There was something about her—a mysterious, sophisticated aura, yet she felt oddly familiar.

He took a deep breath. He regretted it immediately. She smelled like heaven. He cursed under his breath.

“Yes… art is truly a gift. Most people don’t value it enough,” he replied, overwhelmed by the addicting scent lingering in the air. How would her lips feel? he wondered briefly.

“It’s a beautiful painting, isn’t it?” he continued, nodding toward the canvas, his eyes shimmering with curiosity.

With elegance, the woman turned to him and gave a soft, knowing smile. Spencer felt a jolt through his entire body. He needed to know who she was.

“Yes,” she replied in a melodic voice. “But beauty can be deceiving, don’t you think?”

And just like that, she was gone—melted into the crowd, as though she’d never been there. Like an illusion. Like a muse he’d imagined.

For weeks, the thief remained silent. Spencer grew frustrated—not only because the case had gone cold, but because he couldn’t stop thinking about her and their encounter. The mysterious woman haunted his mind, his body, his life.

Then, suddenly, the thief struck again. But this time, it was a less valuable painting—not consistent with the usual pattern. Spencer crouched in his fitted suit, examining a bit of dust beneath the space where the painting had hung.

“This was a clean and quick job… How did you do this?” he muttered to himself.

As he examined the wall, a familiar scent hit him. That same scent. His head snapped up—and there she was.

She smiled gently, her red lips teasing. Spencer stood quickly, brushing imaginary dust off his suit.

Could it be her? Could she be the art thief he’s been chasing? But it was her perfume at the crime scene. Her signature.

The biggest event of the year had arrived. Spencer adjusted his cufflinks nervously as he stepped into the grand foyer again. His hair neatly styled, his suit perfectly tailored—he blended in among the city’s elite collectors. But all he could think about was her. The woman from three weeks ago.

He was sure of one thing: the art thief would strike tonight.

“Good evening, Agent,” a familiar voice purred beside him.

Spencer froze.

She stood close—too close. Smiling like she knew everything.

His voice was barely a breath. “Who are you, really?”

“The phantom you’ve been searching for, my love,” she murmured, her red lips barely moving.

Spencer’s mind spun. She knew who he was. But how?

Her lips brushed his ear. “Come with me, darling.”

He should arrest her. His rational mind screamed it. But his body betrayed him. In a trance, he followed. He couldn’t help it.

She took his hand—his large, rough hand engulfed in her delicate one—and led him away from the crowd. Down an empty corridor, quiet and hidden.

“How…” his voice cracked, “How could you do this?”

She brushed her hands up his chest and pushed him gently against the wall. Her touch feeling like fire on his body.

“But darling,” she smirked, tilting her head, “it was so much fun playing with you.”

She kissed his neck—soft and slow. Spencer shuddered, unsure of what to do. His hands hovered before finding her waist. Her lips continued their trail upward. He groaned, torn between duty and desire.

She kissed the corner of his mouth, her brown eyes locked with his.

“What do you want?” she whispered. Her red lips teasing him.

Yes… what did he want? Maybe he doesn’t know. He just knows he needs her touch now or his body might burn.

“You,” he breathed, his back arching toward her.

She smirked. She knew she had him. Without warning, she kissed him—hard.

Spencer gasped, shocked by the intensity. He grabbed the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair. He pulled her closer. Her tongue teased at his lips, and he let her in. Letting her consume him.

“I don’t even know your name,” he murmured against her lips.

“You don’t need to,” she whispered.

And just like before, she vanished into thin air.

Gone in an instant. Spencer stood breathless, confused, wanting more.

Leaning back against the wall, he exhaled deeply, his fingers raking through his hair in frustration.

But now he was sure. No matter what she did. He didn’t care.

He needed her.

His muse. His phantom. His new, dangerous obsession.

[the-spideyhood-ceo]

Rooftop Chat- Word Count: 540

Peter Parker/Jason Todd

(Crossover between Ultimate Spider-Man and B:UTRH and B:DITF movies)

Peter looked above the New York skylight, today was not one of those days. His team got all mad at him again because he made like, two mistakes. But aren't they all learning how to be better supers too? Why does he always get the short end of the stick? These thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a very familiar voice.

“Come on, I can tell from miles away” Jason said, keeping his voice stern, eyes locking with Peter's own. Something in Peter's heart swelled, it wasn't a new feeling he felt around Jason. But it always made him feel nice. It felt nice that someone cared for him that way, or just care at all. Unlike some people he knows…

Peter sighed “Its just, you know my team, they never seem to respect me. Like we've been doing this for so long yet they think I'm stupid or something”. Jason just hummed in acknowledgement, still giving Peter his full attention. He noticed that Jason's eyes softened just a bit. Good God Peter loved those deep forest green eyes.

After a bit more ranting, the boy across from him gave a sigh as well before opening his own mouth. “Well, sounds like you should either get new friends or quit”, Wow that was…blunt? “I wouldn't say we are friends, friends, more like associates, but isn't quitting a bit extreme Hood?” Jason shrugged, “Friends or not I've seen how they treat you, besides I'm not implying that you should quit being Spider-Man, just S.H.I.E.L.D in general”

Peter just stared back, not sure what to do with this information. Sure his teammates aren't…great, but he can work with them fine, at least to get the job done. Even if they doubt him eight times out of ten.

But quitting S.H.I.E.L.D? Would he be slightly happier if he did so he can finally enjoy his full time freedom. Sure, he definitely would. But they also give him better tech than he could ever make, and they help train him to be better in combat. Wow he really put himself in a predicament didn't he.

Peter was getting deeper in thought when he didn't realize that Jason was actually still there waiting for a response back instead of disappearing into the darkness, like he usually does.

“Hello? Spidey? I'm still here you know” the boy said, getting really close to Peter's face. “RIGHT, Ahm, Right” Peter felt a warm red creeping up his face. “So what did you decide?” Jason said, but his voice was slightly softer. Probably no one would usually notice, but Peter did. “I…I don't know, Neither? There are just so many pros and cons, and augh” He finally answered, hands on his face. God he felt slightly pathetic for not giving a straight answer.

Then he felt Jason's body lean on him, his voice coming out soon after. “Don't think about it too much Spidey, I didn't mean for you to overthink”. Silence, but not an uncomfortable one. Peter removed his hands from his face, leaning his own body onto the other.

Maybe one day he'll actually make a decision. But today he'll just hang on the roof with a friend.

[faegoddessog]

Hello and welcome.

Please excuse the following minor chaos with lots of unscientific side comments from the peanut gallery of my brain.

I fear this particular research brings up more questions than it answers: 

You’d think that pleated front,  straight leg trousers (my least favorite bifurcated mens wear)  would allow for plenty of space. And indeed we have tons of drape from the mid thigh down.  And wow, those are some MAN POCKETS. They fit his WHOLE DAMN HAND! (You’d NEVER see such roomy decadence on women’s trousers.) 

But either by accident or design, that crotch is STILL riding up on him or… wait.. Is it? Is it really? This MAY be a testament to just how bulky Mr. Happy actually is pre-growth or maybe he is just swinging in the proverbial wind.

Dear ones, after MUCH deliberation from as many angles as I can find, I can ascertain no evidence of ‘panty lines’. Either way, literally the ONLY PLACE THEY ARE TIGHT IS HIS CROTCH.   Yes they HUG his backside showing off each delicious slice, but they aren’t rigorously taut. 

Why then, would he choose no barrier between his sensitive flesh and these decidedly 1990’s dad pants? (for real, I was there I remember this look so distinctly)  ESPECIALLY when he knows he’s heading for the photocall  (this seems to have been resolved at the photo call, btw. Which came first, I don’t know) Unless, of course, he did it just for us (as stated by @austinbutlerslovers). 

 I find it hard… mmm hard.. No  sorry, (got distracted) I find it hard to believe our shy boy would go full commando for this.  It’s more likely he has boxers maybe or something roomy in the front because he is not being ‘held’ the way we normally see him, and boy are we seeing him. It's also worth noting he's also not just flip flopping around with those long legged strides. This practically proves my hypothesis that he does indeed dress to the right.  At first he thinks he can hide it in the pleats, but genetics just laughs at the attempt. The heart wants what the heart wants, freinds.

(I can just imagine him seeing this and shaking his head ‘guys, I just had on my normal underwear, you freaks.’) 

Regardless of motives or actual presence of ‘small clothes’,  I can tell that he is not quite comfortable. Left hand slides into those generous pockets to try and adjust. Those fingertips are surely wedging in between his testes and his inner thigh.  Maybe it’s itchy, balls get itchy, or just sticky? It’s the Mediterranean Coast, it’s probably humid, skin sticks to skin, it’s just natural. (Deoderant on the upper inner thighs can help, they also make products for this baby, calling on all thick thigh’d ladies to speak out!) The second hand goes in, an obvious check on the goods, (can I help you with that sir?)  Is his tip being irritated by all that jouncing and rubbing? (how do men even walk… like for real it’s a mystery to me and for the record, I’m always supportive of when they have to do these kinds of adjustments, no shame babes, no shame.)

He even takes one or two very subtle steps doing the old ‘jiggly ball’ stride with the slight wide leg swing to unstick himself from his leg. Props darling one, to do it all with such casual confidence and grace , especially as each step is fraught with starts and stops of people literally in his face. God he is so deliciously cool and collected. (Does this fact make me want to see what it'll take to push him into feral and unhinged? Uh huh, you bet your grand dad's pants it does.)

All in all, I’d love to hand him a pair of MeUndies Ball Caddy  or Duluth Bullpen undies, cuz although I DO enjoy the view,  I don’t want him to chafe.  Angel hands need to hold those goods for the sake of all our heart rates. 

Other videos and posts used in the research are cited below in APA format.

Austinbulterslovers. (May 2025). He did it for us. [Video File]. https://www.tumblr.com/austinbutlerslovers/783815840154959872?source=share.

ButlerBliss. (May 2025). Austin Butler, Emma Stone, Pedro Pascal, Joaquin Phoenix and Ari Aster arrive at the Cannes photocall for ‘Eddington’. [Video File]. https://www.instagram.com/butlerbliss_/reel/DJwCqPkRdyd/.

Festival de Cannes. (May 2025). EDDINGTON - Photocall - VO - Cannes 2025. [Video File]. https://youtu.be/DcZYu-HR-fc?si=36w3fQoiDAoP3Cn-.

Thanks for coming to my TedXX talk.

Peeps who may want to know! , @purejasmine, @slowsweetlove, @richardslady121, @austinbutlerslovers, @tadpoleteef, @allittakesisoneflight @thisworldisntrealhoney,  @1nho,  @megangovier, @briaandthephantoms, @andro-inherdreamworld @callumsgirl @blombardo  @fefeisastar @hacunamy @nestito702 @denised916 @jayydep @r0m4nitcl0v3r @heyidc03, @secondchild-2, @flander42 @natural-born-rebel-spirit @lecosymood @kathrynzaragoza @bsunshinexo @jayydep @ifyouloveweedletsgosmoke @peggyao3, @sunflowers-77, @estrogensensuallovegasm  @ivycjl @jjubilee-fluff @psycheetamore @austinshirogane @ab4eva @movingmusically

WANT TO BE ADDEDD TO THIS LIST SO THAT EVERY TIME I POST SOMETHING NEW YOU'LL BE NOTIFIED? ☝🏼 DM me or toss it in the comments below.

I feel this is another video in need of @faegoddessog PhD research

[erdariel]

I hate how much of scrolling tumblr is just like. Seeing people yell about the next piece of horrible news from somewhere in the world, probably also guilt tripping you about scrolling past it/not paying attention. People begging for their lives, they need money or they and their families are going to die - money that I do not have to spare, and I wouldn't have the time or emotional energy to try and check if they're a real person in need or a scammer anyway. Oh and yet another celebrity, maybe someone I've never even heard of or maybe someone whose work I've admired for years, turns out to have done something horrible! USAmericans arguing with each other about if voting in the next elections is even worth it, and I'm once again grimly reminded that I'm not american, I don't have a vote, and yet the result of the election is likely to have consequence on life in my country (and even more consequence on many other countries out there) too. People from my country either complaining about or venting their frustration through jokes about our idiot government. The faint echoes of some stupid fandom drama. Someone telling me that if I don't pay attention to a post/do something about whichever bad thing somewhere out there is the current piece of news, I'm literally the worst person ever. And oh do you wanna hear what bigoted bullshit JKRowling is spewing this time???

And it's just. I don't even know. I'm just tired. Like I know it's the consequence of living in a world that's pretty fucked for a lot of people, but I can barely even keep my own life together and generally I already see from actual news media all the bad things that are happening currently. And just. I would like to not have to play whackamole with tag blocking and still have it only help maybe half the time. And I know it's not something I can feasibly make happen without unfollowing a lot of friends whose other posts I generally want to see, but just... I would love to have even this one place for unwinding, for seeing funny stuff and thinking and talking about my favorite characters and stories, without having to be constantly reminded of all the bad things.

Like, I already know shit's fucked. Could I not just have a break

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

In Regards To Your 2024 Summary:

Holy shit it’s been another year????? The hell?????

Also! Your art style is gorgeous and that being found in 2023 and then refined throughout late 2023 and the entirety of 2024 really shows, as does your growth in panel layouts, perspective, and — as you said — experimentation. If you ever post your animation or video game art I’m looking forward to it.

As cheesy as it sounds, being able to laugh at funny comics and look at all the details of your art really made my 2024 brighter, even when things were hard. Including looking at your older art— it doesn’t need to be new to be enjoyable! I’m glad your art is well loved and it’s a privilege to have been here since the (near) beginning. I hope you take care of yourself in 2025 and beyond!

You and your art bring a lot of people a lot of joy never forget that <3

Thank you so much for keeping up with my art journey throughout these last two years! Two years!!! I am baffled at how that feels both too long and too short!

Admittedly, my art summary didn't manage to capture the fact that I did a lot of comic layouts that I'm really proud of. I also drew more backgrounds and made some very detailed works (*Dungeon Meshi spoilers for these examples*).

The growth is lot more evident when comparing my 'best' comics of 2023 to 2024:

Sometimes the growth is vertical, sometimes it is horizontal - and damn, sometimes it goes out of sight into the Z-plane. But it is always happening!

[ganondoodle]

i often really do feel like an .. unwanted part of the fandom, i dont draw beautiful landscapes, i have unpopular but strong opinions im constantly annoying about and rarely change, dont like/dont draw the pretty young popular twinks and hot gurls to fanboi over nor do i turn characters into one, the opposite moreso, draw only one ship no ones heard of really, got little energy to interact with the few people that are nice to me and send me asks so it probably looks like im ignoring everyone and unfortunately but still rarely get so stressed i get overwhelmed and emotional about pehaps seemingly minor things and spiral almost into a breakdown feeling super embarrassed about it afterwards but the damage is already done and i look like a freak or agressive weirdo