#but i think some people need to sit back and realize what they’re doing is stupid and making more than a few people uncomfortable

[help-itrappedmyself]

Liminal Jason part 3

For those of you that saw the blip earlier, when I tried to post this but it broke cause it was too long, here is the real thing. Masterpost for earlier parts.

Sorry again. And slight tw for panic attack

Jason woke up slowly, taking in his surroundings as he adjusted to being awake. It was quiet, and a little humid. He was on a bed, could feel the sheets beneath him, and he wasn’t restrained at all. There was a moment of confusion, because when you wake up after being attacked like that you usually end up dead or a hostage. There was a creeping realization dawning in the back of his mind. He didn’t want to acknowledge it. He opened his eyes, not wanting his suspicions to be true. But he was in a holding cell in the cave, and he realized what must have happened. Then he was pissed. 

He let out a growl, pushing to sit up on the bed. He thought they were doing better. He thought his family trusted him again. His growl was angry, foreboding, telling of the danger and anger in his thoughts. But his head was pounding from the sedative. They knew he hated needles. Hated drugs. Why would they do this to him, trick him like this when they knew how he felt about it. The haze in his head, making his thoughts heavy, and doing nothing but reminding him of all the harm drugs have done to the people around him. He stopped growling, hoping the quiet would help. Much less angry, the clouds in his head starting to make him sad and breathless. He hopes the effects wear off soon. He can’t focus. There is something important that he is missing. He is forgetting something, the spiral of his thoughts and emotions starting to lean towards hysteria. He’s alone. Trapped and alone, mind heavy with fog. He can’t think, why is he stuck here? His breath starts coming faster, increasing while his heart starts to race. He tries to keep quiet, and calm down. A whimper escapes him as he finds a corner and slides down the wall. Then he heard a keen. Close, probably coming from one of the other cells. The sound cuts through the haze. Important, a strike of clarity hitting him with a pulse as he remembers the kid. There was a kid with him. 

Danny. Jason hears him call out again, a sharp keen of panic-confusion, and Jason needs to help him. Jason stumbles up, leaning on the wall for support. He heads towards the door, but he was familiar with how the cells worked. He reached it and of course it was locked. He attempted to manually override, but the pad inside the cell was locked down. The cell can only be opened once someone on the inside clears whoever is inside it. Created for instances where one of them has been incapacitated by a new strain of fear gas, or a new Ivy concoction. To hold someone until an antidote can be created. There was no getting out of here before the other came by. 

Hopefully, they’re on their way now, seeing him awake on the cameras. Jason has some choice words to be had about his situation, angry seething inside him as the panic from earlier recedes. 

Danny lets out another keen, breathy and biting and Jason hears him start to panic. Jason still has to do what he can. He can’t reach him, but he can try and calm him down. They’re in this together, and Jason is going to do whatever he can for the kid. He let out a rumble, steady and calm in response to Danny’s cries. His rumble is filled with annoyance, but still said okay-here-safe. 

Danny is silent for a moment before he hums back a confused-trust. It’s closer, louder, like Danny has moved to be right on the other side of the wall from Jason. This kid, who just had his world destroyed, came here alone and afraid, and he trusts Jason. Screw yelling at the Bats. Danny needs him, and priority one is getting Danny to a place he can feel safe. 

A soft churring sound leaves Jason, sweet and caring, and Jason hopes the kid knows that he is going to do everything he can for him. Then Jason hears Danny let out a short purr, a quiet susurration, that ends as quickly as it starts. Jason is stunned by how much faith Danny is putting in him. How much Jason cares for this boy he just met. 

The bats can pry this boy out from his cold, dead hands.

[saveyourblood]

Pretty Boy - Ch 4 (Buddie x Reader)

Summary: You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window. The one where you’re an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them.

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3

A/N: You know what would be cool? If you left a comment :) Word Count: 3.9k Warnings: mentions of trauma/injury

“Alright, speed-round: if you weren’t doing this, what would you be doing?” Bobby asks as he cooks breakfast.

You’re sitting at the kitchen island, nursing your second cup of coffee. Everyone’s shift started two and a half hours ago, right at 5 am. There hasn’t been a call for the 118 yet, so Bobby’s taking advantage of the opportunity.

“Fighter pilot: Topgun. Call sign: shogun,” Chim answers as he digs into his omelet.

Hen laughs.

“What about you, Hen?” You smile.

“Editorial cartoonist, The New Yorker. I have a lot to say,” she says as she sits down.

You raise your eyebrows as the men share a look.

“You draw?” Bobby asks, surprised.

“No, it's a dream. It's not supposed to be attainable,” Hen argues. She looks at you. “What would you be?”

“You know, ever since I was a kid, I loved helicopters,” you remark. “During paramedic training, I learned about flight nursing and thought that was super cool. I guess I would be a flight nurse.”

You go back to drinking your coffee, but everyone stays silent. You look up to find them staring at you.

You chuckle in confusion. “What?”

“Girl, you could go do that now if you wanted to,” Hen says.

“I can’t just decide to be a nurse,” you argue.

“You could go be a flight paramedic if you wanted to,” Bobby says. “And since you’re an advanced paramedic, you can become a nurse in like, half the normal time.”

You frown. “Seriously?”

He nods. “There are a lot of paramedic-to-RN bridge programs out there. California prefers nurses with bachelor’s degrees, but you could get your associate’s degree and go from there. You might need some hospital experience to beef up your resume, but otherwise, you’d be a shoo-in.”

Chim looks at Bobby in disbelief. “Why would you tell her all of that?”

He laughs. “What?”

“You’re gonna make her leave!” Hen exclaims. She sets her head on your shoulder. “We don’t want her to leave—we love her.”

You smile and pat Hen’s shoulder. “I’m not leaving. I love what I do right now, and I love the people I do it with. That’s why it’s just a dream.”

It’s true: you love what you do… most of the time. When you don’t love it, you really fucking hate it. But that’s anywhere. You should just count your blessings, cut your losses, or whatever the expression is.

Buck joins you all, grabbing an apple from the bowl between you and Hen.

“Buckaroo, If you were not a member of the LAFD, what would you be doing?” Chim asks.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Buck frowns as he sits beside you. “I’m not getting fired, am I?”

Bobby gives him a look of contemplation that makes you snort.

Chim casually takes another bite. “That’s inevitable.”

“He’d be a golden retriever,” Hen chimes in.

“No, a bartender,” Chim says. “No, no, a bouncer at a bar.”

“A bouncer at a strip club,” you correct him.

Chim and Hen high-five each other, then you. You turn to your side. Buck has a small smile on his face, but you can tell something is eating at him.

“What’s going on, Pretty Boy?” you ask. When he meets your gaze, you offer (what you hope is) an encouraging smile.

“Traffic sucks in this town unless you're driving ten tons of engine with sirens,” Buck says. “It took me almost two hours to get from my place to the call center downtown, then back over here. I told Maddie she needs to start Ubering.”

You frown at the mention of ‘Maddie,’ a name you haven’t heard before. Does Buck have a girlfriend? And they’re already living together? Something about that doesn’t sit right with you. It feels like a piece of lead took residence in your stomach, and the space between your lungs and ribs got slightly smaller.

“Maddie?” You ask, trying to sound neutral.

“My sister,” Buck clarifies.

The lead in your stomach evaporates. “Oh. I didn’t know you had a sister. She’s living with you?”

“For now, until she finds a place of her own,” Buck nods.

You nod as well. “How are things going?”

“Well, she’s a Buckley, so she’s practically running the place,” Buck says.

Bobby offers him a plate, which he accepts. He stands up to go to the table, and on his way over, he pats your shoulder twice. When he’s out of sight, Hen cocks her head and raises an eyebrow.

“What?” You ask her, deadpan.

“‘Maddie’?” she repeats, mocking how you said her name.

“It was a question.”

“You sounded like a jealous girlfriend,” Hen laughs.

“I’m not jealous, and I’m definitely not his girlfriend.”

“Doesn’t mean you couldn’t be,” Hen says in a sing-song voice as she stands.

“Yeah, you better run,” you threaten playfully as she approaches the table.

She flips you the bird, and you laugh loudly.

The first call of the shift is to a building affected by an earthquake. It sounds like the scene already has plenty of paramedics, so for the first time in a long time, you’re in firefighter gear and will be helping pull victims from the site. It’s not your favorite thing to do all the time—that’s what the rescue team is for. Every once in a while isn’t bad, though. It gets your blood pumping like paramedicine does; you only tend to use your muscles more than your brain. It’s also fun to sit in an engine instead of the rig for a change.

Eddie is next to you, and since getting on, he hasn’t looked up from his phone. His brow is furrowed, and his forehead is already shining with sweat.

You lean over, knowing you’ll still have to yell for him to hear you over the engine and sirens. “Everything okay?”

He looks at you, then back at his phone. “Yeah, no service. Texts won’t even get through.”

He’s pissed, and you have no clue why.

“Okay,” you say slowly. “Who are you trying to get a hold of?”

Eddie stares at you momentarily, then looks around the engine at the other passengers.

“My son,” he eventually explains. “I’m trying to reach my son.”

“Woah, you got a kid?!” Buck exclaims.

“Christopher,” Eddie says, pulling up a picture on his phone. He shows you, then Buck. “He’s seven.”

“He looks like a sweet kid,” you say.

“Yeah, he’s super adorable,” Buck agrees. “I uh, I love kids.”

“I love this one,” Eddie says quietly. “I’m all he’s got. His mother’s not in the picture.”

“He’s at school right now?” You ask, tilting your head.

Eddie nods.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” you say, patting his knee reassuringly.

Eddie glances from your hand to your face. He nods slightly and gives you a closed-mouth smile. He wants to believe you, but his parental instincts tell him not to. You get it. No one but Chris can quell that anxiety.

You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window.

The damaged building is one of the craziest things you’ve seen in a long time. It’s on the corner, leaning out over the street below. All of the buildings around it look fine on the outside. It truly looks like something from an apocalyptic movie.

“You guys ever deal with anything like this before?” Eddie asks once you’re all standing on the sidewalk.

Bobby shakes his head, still staring up at the building. “Nope.”

A cop is escorting a couple down the sidewalk. They’re fighting her to go back.

“You have to let me back in there, my baby is in there!” The woman screams.

“Please, our daughter is still inside!” The man protests as an officer pushes him back. “She’s eight years old! Her name is Kat!”

Your stomach is in knots. This is why you don’t like working rescue. As a paramedic, you don’t know what you’re walking into. When you work search and rescue, you know what you’ll find; you just might not like it.

You follow your team as Bobby looks for the Incident Commander. You begin walking through a makeshift medical bay, and you can see that they’ve already implemented disaster protocol triage. Each patient is wearing a tag with their assigned triage color. Green means stable, yellow means a serious injury but not an emergency, red means an immediate threat to life, and black indicates death or injuries incompatible with life. You mostly see green and yellow, which is a good sign.

You overhear some of what Chief Williams, the Incident Commander, and Bobby are discussing. Essentially, the building is on a fault line, and the only thing keeping it upright is some steel, so one aftershock and the whole thing could come down.

Bobby faces you all. “Okay, listen up: Here's how you make it to the end of the day. You don't worry about the things that you can't do anything about. Focus on one task at a time. I can't order you guys to go inside that building, and I'm not gonna judge you if you decide not to.”

“Where do you want us?” Is the first thing Eddie asks.

Bobby is pulled to help with triage, while Chim and Hen see a woman on the 11th floor needing rescue. This left you with Eddie and Buck by default, who are tasked with sweeping the ground floor in search of any survivors or rescue teams that may need additional assistance.

You find some bodies that you leave black tags on and spray paint an ‘x’ on a landmark near them. You aren’t entirely sure you believe in god, but just in case, you also send a prayer.

“How does it feel to be in on the action for once?” Buck asks with a grin. “Ya know, instead of standing outside waiting like you normally do.”

“So far? I’m not loving it,” you retort, ducking under a massive piece of concrete.

A firefighter from a different crew approaches you, a victim in tow.

“Need any help?” Eddie asks.

“All good,” The firefighter replies. “There’s a kid maybe 50 feet back, he needs EMTs. Bad.”

“Is it a little girl?” you ask, thinking of Kat. Honestly, you aren’t sure what you want the answer to be.

“No, an African American teenager,” he clarifies.

“Fire and Rescue, hello?!” Buck shouts.

“Right here!” A voice shouts back. “Thank god, man, he’s stuck!”

The three of you have to crawl across a beam to get to him. You’re the last one to make it across, and Buck hands you your bag once you do. You give him a single nod, which he returns.

“What’s your name, kiddo?” You ask with a smile as you approach the victim.

A man is holding one of his hands, and the other is cradling his head. He doesn’t appear to be his father, but you can tell they know each other somehow. You can see why: his injury is brutal. His left leg is trapped under a massive concrete support beam, one that normally goes from the ceiling to the floor.

“Jeff,” he answers shakily.

“You already try and move some debris, see if you can pull him free?” Eddie asks as he gets a set of vitals.

“The second we touched the beam, everything above started shifting,” the man responds.

Buck stares up. “Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of. It looks like this debris is holding up this section of the ceiling. If we try to pull it out of the way, this whole area could cave in.”

“My friend Eddie and I are gonna stablize your neck, okay Jeff?” You say as you get the c-collar out of your pack.

Eddie holds C-spine as you slide the collar around Jeff’s neck.

“I-I can’t move it, coach,” Jeff says. “How bad is it?”

“Hey, bones heal, alright?” His coach replies.

“Sir, this firefighter is gonna lead you out of here,” Buck interrupts.

“No, screw that, I’m staying, alright? This kid is a son to me.”

“Okay, we need to focus all of our attention on Jeff right now. We can't be worried about your safety, too,” Buck insists. “Now go.”

A sense of pride swells in your heart. Buck is taking charge of the situation, similar to how Bobby would. Sometimes, you can hardly believe this is the same guy who got fired for not respecting the job.

Buck approaches you. “What’ve we got?”

“Crushed tibia and fibula,” you answer. “Looks like it missed any major arteries.”

“Alright, Pretty Boy, what do you think?”

Both Buck and Eddie begin talking. They frown and glance at each other, then at you.

Your cheeks burn a little. “Um, Buck is Pretty Boy.”

Buck gives a little shit-eating grin.

“Huh, sounds like there’s a story there,” Eddie notes.

The three of you are standing in a small circle, out of earshot from Jeff. You’re trying to decide what the next step is, and the boys have considered every option… except yours.

“What if we try chipping away at the debris, try to make headway,” Eddie suggests.

“Are you crazy? The entire goddamn building could come crashing down us,” you argue. “I don’t know why we’re even discussing this. There’s one option: we get a trauma surgeon in here, and Jeff loses his leg instead of his life.”

“Basketball is his life,” Buck says. His arms are folded across his chest, and he sways back and forth a little as he thinks.

“Yeah, Well, it isn’t just his life at stake,” you retort. “We’re here too, and call me selfish, but I don’t want to die so a kid can play with a ball. That’s also assuming, by the way, that his leg is even salvageable when all is said and done. And it might not be.”

“You don’t know that it isn’t,” Eddie shrugged. “We have to at least try, right?”

“Okay, I know you boys are super into the whole ‘badass, lifesaving, run-into-danger’ firefighter thing, but we have to be realistic. This isn’t just Jeff we’re talking about. Hell, this isn’t just about the four of us. It’s about everyone above us, too: Hen, Chim, and god knows how many other firefighters and survivors. Risking all of their lives for one person isn’t heroic—it’s stupid.”

“What about an airbag?” Buck says to Eddie. “We shore up this pocket we're in. get an air bag to lift up the beam that’s pinning him down.”

Eddie nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, that could work.”

You tap your mouth like it’s a microphone. “Is this thing on?”

Buck sighs. “Look, we can’t just—”

“I can hear you, you know,” Jeff interrupts your conversation. “Shouldn’t I get a vote?”

You look at Jeff, then back at your coworkers. Without saying anything, you all move back over to Jeff, surrounding him in a formation similar to before.

“Jeff, what do you want to to do?” You ask, gently taking his hand.

He squeezes your hand. “I may be able to live without my leg, but I don’t know if I can live knowing I could have saved it, but didn’t.”

You smile and nod. You look to Buck and Eddie. “Then we try the airbags.”

“Alright, Jeff, you ready?” Buck asks.

Buck is at Jeff’s shoulders, Eddie is at his hip, and you’re crouched at his feet. Buck and Eddie will move Jeff once the airbag deploys, and it’s your job to make sure he’s clear.

Jeff nods. “Yeah, but if things go wrong, leave me and save yourselves. This is my choice to try this.”

“Eh, I kind of like you, so now you’re stuck with me,” you joke. You get at least a chuckle out of everyone. “All four of us are getting out of here.”

“That’s right,” Eddie agrees, “with all 8 legs.”

Buck leans in a little closer to Jeff. “Now, Jeff, she gave you some morphine, but once we move you, it’s gonna hurt like hell. You ready?”

Jeff agrees, quietly at first but then loudly. “Yeah. Yeah, Yeah. Yeah, come on, we’re the champs.”

You smile and can almost taste how bittersweet the expression is. Buck and Eddie quickly catch on and begin agreeing.

“Yeah, we’re the champions!” Buck shouts.

“We got this! Yeah, we got this!” Eddie yells.

Eventually, the three of them just yell in similar octaves. They sound like a bunch of little boys excited to play a game. You have to blink a few times, holding back tears.

Buck counts down, then turns a nozzle to deploy the airbag. You can hear some cracking sounds but feel no slack on Jeff’s leg.

“Anything?!” Buck shouts.

“A little more!” Eddie shouts back.

Debris begins to fall on your shoulders, and you can feel the surface below you shaking.

“Come, come on, come on—”

Jeff’s leg is suddenly free enough, and you and Eddie pull him to the side.

In seconds, the three of you have him on the backboard, splinted, and ready for transport. Each of you is singing your praises to Jeff, encouraging him, and assuring him he did a good job. The boys get him onto the platform your team crawled in on. The boys are doing the heavy lifting, so you let them go first.

As you start to slide across the beam, you catch something in the corner of your eye. It’s a pink and purple sneaker, likely a child’s.

“Kat?” you shout, digging for your flashlight. “Kat?!”

After getting Jeff out, you confirm that Kat was wearing pink and purple shoes, which means she’s stuck somewhere in the building. The three of you return to the building with additional firefighters, all calling out Kat’s name.

An aftershock begins. Everything around you begins shaking, and you can feel the ground start to give. It makes your stomach do a few backflips. There’s a massive shift below you, and before you even realize it’s happening, you’re falling between two segments. For a moment, you hear Eddie and Buck call your name. Then, all you can hear is the world falling on top of you.

Eventually, everything becomes still. You reach for your radio, trying to get unpinned from whatever came crashing down on you. “Buck?! Eddie?!”

You can’t explain it, but you can feel you’re in a different spot. The air didn’t just get colder; it’s like the actual pressure of the atmosphere shifted.

You find there’s some slack above your legs, so you begin kicking. “Is anyone down here?!”

“Hey,” a gravely voice calls out.

You grunt a few times as you pry and pull yourself from the rubble. When you break free, you see a trapped firefighter a few feet away. His legs are completely obstructed, and he’s pressed flat on his back.

“Hey, 221, right?” you say, opening your medi bag. “We ran into some of your boys earlier. I’m 118.”

“Russ, 221,” he confirms.

“Russ, where’s your radio?” You ask as you look around. “Mine’s toast.”

“I don’t have one,” he rasps out, “all radios were issued out. It’s not my shift?”

You feel a pull on your heartstrings. “ Oh my god, you came in on your day off, Russ?”

“Eh, I had nothing better to do,” He jokes with a weak laugh.

You begin looking around and think of various ways to free Russ. You first try pushing the debris away, which proves unsuccessful. You then try pulling Russ out, and when that doesn’t work, you try using your fire axe as a jack.

“There’s gotta be an actual jack in one of these cars,” you say, swinging your head around as you try to locate the nearest vehicle.

“Don’t waste your strength or your time,” Russ protests.

“Enough of that, Russ,” you gently scold. “We’re both getting out of here, okay?”

“I’m not. Fractured pelvis, flail chest... Even I couldn't save me, and... you don't know me, but I'm good.”

“Yeah? Well maybe I’m better,” You argue, finding a nearby car door. You open it. “Hang in there.”

“I’m not gonna make it,” Russ coughs. You rush to his side, and it looks like he’s spitting up blood. “Help's not coming. Not in time, anyway. So, please, my kit. The morphine. Give me a bolus.” He coughs and moans a little. “Oh, make it three.”

“I'll give you one, just to keep you comfortable, but we're not giving up, okay?” You say as you begin rifling through your bag.

“Are you married?” Russ asks.

You shake your head. “Haven’t gotten around to it.”

“Well, I was,” Russ explains. “She was always worrying that I wouldn't... make it back home to see her. Decided maybe it's better if I just stopped coming home altogether. I think maybe she was... onto something.”

You’re drawing up the last little bit of morphine when Russ goes quiet. You drop the syringe and shake his shoulders. “Russ?! Russ!”

You put your fingers to his neck, but you know you aren’t going to find a pulse. His eyes are already glazed over, his face totally relaxed.

You throw the syringe of morphine as hard as you can, curling up into a ball. “Dammit.”

You stay like that for a while, probably longer than you should. A few silent tears stream down your face. You eventually wipe away your tears, close Russ’s eyes, and continue forward.

You go for as long as you can, but the air gets so thin that it becomes hard to breathe. At some point, you stumble to your feet, leaning back against some rubble behind you. You take in a few deep breaths, and you exhale them as sobs.

Wiping at your eyes again, you reach for your phone. It’s something you never wanted to do, but it feels like the right decision. When you find your phone, you click into the voice memo app.

“Hey, Bobby,” you say, letting out a cough. “I’m sorry you have to hear them this way, but you deserve some last words from me, so here I go: working with you has been the greatest pleasure of my life.”

You record one for each of your co-workers, your family members.

“Chim, I always thought of you as a mentor…”

“Hen, your friendship has meant the absolute world to me…”

“Eddie, I haven’t known you for long, but I’m glad I got to meet you…”

“Pretty Boy,” you laugh, then cough again. “Evan Buckley… where do I even start with you? I’m not gonna lie: I really didn’t like you when we first met. And that’s funny, because now, you’re probably one of the most important people in my life. You definitely proved me wrong, man: you were good. You are good. And you have to keep being good, okay? I might not be there to see it anymore, but you should still do it. Do it for the both of us, will ya?”

A few tears fall from your face as you end the recording. You take a few deep breaths before marching onward.

[saras-almanac]

So I wrote this post the other day about my feelings on the handling of the BuckTommy breakup (which you can read here if you want). And @parrishjeanna reblogged with a link to an article from Tim. I wrote out a reply to it but it became so long I needed to put it in a separate post because it’s over 3k and I need to put it until a readmore.

Okay so I did read that article thank you @kawaiifacesong for linking the not generating revenue clicks because I don’t like reading any articles for 9-1-1 because it’s literally all buddies who can’t ask anything about the show. (Case in point, in this particular interview, the interviewer brings up “The Couch Theory” because Buck and Eddie sit on a couch.)

So this interview was trash for many reasons but I’ll narrow it down to three for the sake of this response: Biphobic nature of the breakup and aftermath, what’s being said in interviews isn’t what we’re seeing, and Tim writes as he goes so there’s no actual plan going forward.

First: The Biphobic Nature of this breakup is still moving full swing.

The idea that Buck is “still figuring himself out” and needs to explore is insulting in so many ways—especially to myself as a bisexual lady in my 30s. Firstly, being in my 30s, the idea that you need to figure yourself out still is absolute bullshit. Yes, you can still find new things out about yourself and make some changes, but usually by this point in your life, you have a pretty decent handle on who you are as a person. Which Buck does have… and we’ve seen that? So it has to be a reference to his newly discovered and realized sexuality.

Which, AGAIN is so biphobic and plays into incredibly harmful bisexual stereotypes that bisexuals need to “explore” to figure out what or who they want. This means either they need to fuck around and make sure they’re really bisexual. OR they need to get enough experience with their same gender to then be able to have a same-gendered relationship. Both of which are insulting and harmful. This idea that Tommy couldn’t possibly be a lasting relationship because Buck just came out as bisexual is wrong. It’s fine if they didn’t want Tommy to be a long-term love interest or even an end-game love interest, but why couldn’t they have done it differently, to hopefully not play into these harmful stereotypes that are still incredibly prevalent today.

Now do I think they fully intended it to play out as biphobic as it is? Not really, but I do think that the heart of what they wanted—Buck exploring his sexuality—is inherently biphobic because of the way they have chosen to go about it. There’s a world of difference between having Tommy break up with Buck so Buck can go exploring and having OS and TM saying similar things in interviews and Tommy and Buck breaking up and Buck getting back out there and dating around. Which if they had given it just a smidge of thought, I have to hope they would have come to that same conclusion and maybe gone about it in a different way.

Second: What Tim’s saying in interviews about what’s happening on the show and in these storylines doesn’t match up to what we’re seeing

I’m going to paste the few paragraphs related to BuckTommy break up here, just to read. I have bolded what I thought was important and what I’m going to talk about after it.

“Look, I think the breakup was premature, but that was by design. For me, the story that I was trying to tell was here’s a guy, Tommy. He’s not a main character on the show. We haven’t done ‘Tommy Begins’ or something. But you do see him in the ‘Begins’ episodes, in flashbacks, and by the time he leaves in ‘Bobby Begins Again,’ he’s turned over a new leaf. He’s feeling more comfortable. He’s hanging out with the new people at the 118 once Bobby takes over, and they throw him a party and bake him a cake when he goes off to his new post. There was even a reference in Broken when Chimney calls him to do the water drop,” Minear explained. “But Tommy’s a guy who’s in a different place in his life than Buck is. And I think what Tommy realizes is exactly what he said, which is, ‘I’m not your last. I’m your first.'” Minear referenced the coffee shop scene in Season 7, where Buck asked Tommy to give them another shot and come to his sister’s wedding, as a point when Tommy thought, “Alright, this guy’s kind of great. He’s super hot and he’s sweet. And this will be nice. And I’m going to be vulnerable for this.” As the relationship grew stronger and the stakes grew higher, however, Tommy reevaluated things. “I think Tommy, in the end, understood that this was not forever — that Buck is exploring himself. He’s still figuring himself out. And even if Tommy doesn’t know it, he might sense the fact that Buck likes to jump in with both feet a little bit precipitously,” Minear mused. “So was the breakup premature? Yes. Because Tommy was put in a position where he had to be honest. And once he speaks the truth, which is, ‘I think I know where this ends, and I can’t move in with you,’ he’s kind of breaking the spell — the spell of that honeymoon. Tommy even says, ‘I didn’t see this coming either.’ I don’t think either one of them did.”

Okay, lots of things happening in this quote but ultimately there’s a massive disconnect in what TM thinks is happening or what he’s saying is happening and what is actually on screen—and that’s a huge problem. You can’t rely on interviews to explain things, it needs to be in the actual text of the episode.

I think the real crux of the issue is this: “Tommy’s a guy who’s in a different place in his life than Buck is… Tommy, in the end, understood that this was not forever… he’s kind of breaking the spell—the spell of that honeymoon.”

Let’s break this down a bit. Tommy being in a different place in his life than Buck… How? Buck has, since the pilot episode, been looking and searching for a stable romantic relationship—he’s always craved that and wanted that. Even in the breakup, he was thinking about their future and marriage and moving in with Tommy. Is that not what the next logical step of a relationship might be? So doesn’t that—regardless of whether it was premature or not—prove that Buck and Tommy are in the same place of clearly wanting a long-term, committed relationship? So if this wasn’t the case, why didn’t you show that? Show them having that disconnect or make it clear that Tommy’s dropping hints about their future and Buck is not in the same place so he’s not picking up on them at all. Because what we saw was Buck wanting and seeing a future with Tommy and Tommy basically telling him that the doesn’t actually.  

“Tommy, in the end, understood that this was not forever — that Buck is exploring himself. He’s still figuring himself out.” This is my villain origin point—for real. Because this is also not what we saw! What we saw, was a Buck who was so secure in himself and his relationship, arguably for the first time on this show, that he didn’t panic or second-guess anything really. He was all-in with Tommy and enjoying himself and being with Tommy. He even said that being with Tommy makes him more comfortable with himself—aka what a lot of couples say when they’re in committed and reciprocal, healthy romantic relationships—that being with you makes me happy being me. (Paraphrasing here, but hopefully my point gets across.)

Because what is there for Buck to figure out yet? He knows he’s bisexual and incredibly into Tommy. He’s happy and content with his work life and seems pretty happy with where he’s living. His relationships with his friends and family are all as good as they usually are. So what is there for Buck to still figure out? I’m left to assume that this is again only about his sexuality, which just keeps adding more to the pile of shit that makes me feel crappy and uncomfortable with this storyline.

Also, why couldn’t Buck and Tommy last? Why is that assumed to be the correct conclusion to come to? How many high school sweethearts get together and last? How many people who don’t date until they’re in their 20s-30s find someone right away and stay together? How many people come out as queer later in life because they have found someone they click with and it just makes them see more of themselves and they stay together? Sure, this is not the case with every single person in these situations, but it’s not unheard of. To me, this just feels like the show and Tim are acting like Buck is a young, 20-year-old child and now a grown man in his 30s…

What we actually saw on our screens, was two people who genuinely seemed to enjoy each other and spending time together. That had an easy and sweet relationship, where they both felt settled and comfortable together. It’s why the weird change in 806 felt so abrupt—what do you mean these two people who had amazing communication up until that point, have not talked about their past relationships at all? I think that was done as a shortcut for the writers and TM to say, “Look, see, they’re not compatible, they can’t last because they’re not talking about anything serious.” But again, my point is: then you should have showed us that beforehand, given some foreshadow or lead up to it. Instead, they chose to blindside the audience for the “shock value” and it didn’t work. Shock value for shock value’s sake never works for the audience. They don’t want the rug to be pulled out from under them, they want to see you building something and only after it’s built can they see what you were doing the whole time.

Now, I understand that they just wanted to break them up for “story” reasons (which I have no faith is going to be anything good). While I personally hate that because I feel like there would have been much more storylines and things for Buck to be involved in and it would have opened up a lot more potential stories for the future, I get that it’s not my decision to make. But why couldn’t they actually make this make sense in the actual context of what we’d seen already? If you wanted to break them up because they’re in different places, then having Buck ask Tommy to move in could have caused more of an argument of Tommy saying that Buck doesn’t really see him and doesn’t seem to understand that Tommy has a whole life outside of Buck. O Tommy could have been the one to propose moving in together and Buck freaks out because it’s too soon—which leaves Tommy to come to the conclusion that they want different things right now and he can’t just sit around and hoping Buck will catch up because it would be too hard for him to let go of Buck later. Or have Tommy literally going to a different place—whether temporarily or permanently—and so they have to break up because Buck has a whole life here and Tommy wasn’t about to ask Buck to uproot himself for Tommy…

There’s so many other ways this breakup could have gone instead of the route they went—and they would have made much more sense contextually. Instead, they went this cheapest way possible and have Buck now acting like a child about calling Tommy, when in reality and with the growth we’d seen of Buck in the past 8 years, he would have reached out to Tommy already. At least to talk things through. The baking thing was cute for an episode and it would have been okay for longer, but I’m just sitting here wondering exactly why Buck can’t call Tommy… If it’s because he’s hurt, then they needed to say that because right now, it just seems like Buck is literally being forced to not call him but the audience isn’t really sure why.

All this brings me to my biggest point. Third: I don’t trust anything that’s being said in interviews or by TM because he doesn’t write in advance and that’s a major problem

Before we get into it let me make a disclaimer: I’m gonna need every single network and studio to start requiring all the white men who write for them to actually be getting them scripts. We cannot rely on their “genius” to make sense because these scripts—especially season 8—should have had a few more passes before what we’ve seen. The only episode so far that actually felt like a complete episode was the Halloween episode.

And if this season has taught us anything, it’s that Tim not having any real plans or anything written is actually a massive problem for this show.

Now me not believing TM is not me saying that I 100% believe Tommy is coming back (though I feel like the chances are higher now with the reaction from the GA for ABC to suggest some things or at least give a closure beat to this character and relationship) This is more, nothing that TM has said in interviews up until this point for season 8 has really actually happened on screen except for Eddie shaving his moustache… Granted, I don’t read every single article with him so I might have missed something, but I just feel like he’s got no interest in setting anything up and actually paying it off in any real way.

So many people were so excited for season 8 because it was the first season in years where we actually knew so many storylines going into 8—that weren’t told to us in interviews; they were introduced in the actual show! We had Bobby/Athena’s house hunting, HenRen fighting Ortiz and trying to get Mara back, Madney fostering Mara in HenRen’s place, Eddie dealing with Christopher leaving, and Gerrard back at the 118. Any one of those storylines would have been so amazing to really see explored and fleshed out. Instead, everything was basically settled and done by episode 4—apart from Christopher and Eddie resolution and Bobby/Athena actually moving in / building. To me, as a writer myself, that decision to rush though those other stories was a massive massive misstep. There was so much there to explore and delve into that could have been so satisfying to watch and really reap the emotional payoff.

Instead, we had like 2-4 minutes max of processing HenRen not being able to see Mara again before they were all reunited. Not that I wanted to see HenRen struggling again in this way, but it would have been different and they could have put some humor into it with Karen suggesting they tail Ortiz and try to find things out about her—or Hen comes back from a shift to find Karen has stayed up for 38 hours tracking every single facebook post from Ortiz and her family to try and find something they could use and she’s the one who uncovered the link between Ortiz and Gerrard, which then promts Hen to ask Buck as Gerrard’s specialist boy to ask for a favor or try to convince Gerrard to help them deal with Ortiz.

And Maddie and Chimney having Mara would have been so interesting to see them actually having conversations about what they want for their family going forward—do they want more kids, do they not? Are they wanting to try naturally or adoption? And then Mara being with Chimeny could have also added another layer of tension between Hen and Chimney with Hen being jealous that Chimney is raising her daughter.

I mean Eddie… the fact that it took 8 episodes (basically) for him to actually acknowledge that he needs to do something to be a part of his son’s life is a major problem as well. It makes me not want to root for Eddie to reconcile with Chris because he has shown hardly any initiative in actually confronting what he did and the actual reason why Chris is so upset and feels betrayed. There was a little in 6, but that’s sort of it.

Bobby and Athena, they just don’t seem to know what to do with them anymore. And that’s a shame because there are so many things they could do—namely my favorite thing which is give them more comedy to do! They are so funny together (cruise ship is one of my favorite things). Or they could have had the first few episodes be them sort of couch surfing through the firefam and be a fun little runner of “we really need to figure out what we’re doing.” Even their storyline of their house burning just doesn’t seem to be a thing anymore.

Buck, it would have been so amazing to see him dealing with the work stuff more and having Tommy to lean on, to see Buck who’s been pretty secure in his work for the past few seasons now dealing with Bobby being gone and Gerrard there, just really gets him thinking about the future. Or even the comment about budget cuts, why was that never brought up again? That would have been so interesting to lead up to the midseason finale, which of the 118 is going to get laid off? And Buck being in such a secure spot maybe he volunteers because he wants to explore something outside of firefighting and/or because everyone else has kids and a family and he knows it’s easier for him to not have a job? And then he’s saying his goodbyes and the midseason act out is Bobby announcing that Eddie is going to be leaving them instead.

Instead of really exploring any of that, it’s all been rushed through to move on to the next thing, but the honest truth is: I don’t trust what TM’s great next thing is because he absolutely squandered all the potential he had going into season 8. So all these “amazing things” he has going forward I just don’t trust they’re going to happen or even be slightly interesting. Instead, I assume they’re going to be something that’s like an episode opening and then never mentioned again if they do happen.

I just don’t understand what is going on in his head other than ego right now and I’m just… I deal with too many egos in my life to deal with another one like this.

[atopvisenyashill]

do love how this is an asoiaf blog but i did not put either show in my top 10 this is the world we live in

[euphoricfilter]

i’m somewhat glad namjoon brought up the whole icky comments last night, and i hope it sort of puts into perspective for people that the stuff they thought was cute or funny really isn’t because sometimes i sit there on live and i have to keep the comments off because i seriously can’t take it and hate to imagine how the members feel 🧍‍���️

anyways using this as a mini hiatus announcement too until i’m done with this ot7 fic 🫂

[netherfeildren]

Busy, Dying. Part 1;

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: In an in-between place called his life, Joel Miller is alone. In search of a cure. In need of a miracle. In want of God.

Can I interest you in a cure for loneliness? She'd asked him in a language without words. Taking it is the easy part. Letting her go is impossible.

-OR-

an a/b/o soulmates AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No Outbreak AU, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Soulmates AU, Infidelity, Cheating, HEA!!!!!, Angst, Fluff & Smut, Mating Bites, Knotting, Heat Sex, Breeding Kink, Group Therapy, Social Experiments, Basically puppy training for unsocialized Alphas, And by God that man will be house trained by the time she’s done with him!, Complicated family dynamics, Discussions of self harm, Depression, Existential Angst, Author returns not with a whimper but with a KNOT, I wrote this in a very unserious state of mind beware 

A/N: Gray November, I've been down since July - but we're so back, baby. I’ve missed this so bad. I’ve missed you all, I won’t drone on and on. I hope you enjoy, and please talk to me in the comments. Update me on what I’ve missed, let me know how you’ve been and what’s happening in your life.

A great heartfelt thank you to all of my wonderful friends who so supportively cheered me on while I struggled to write this. Sincerely the best people I know. 

Love you all madly.

Word Count: 6.5K

Read on AO3

Part 1;

The old linoleum tiles are the most peculiar shade of puce, and Joel has realized that there is someone sitting at the back of the room who smells… strange. 

More brown than purple—an ugly color. There’s something about it that fascinates him.

The woman that is currently speaking tells of her husband; it’s the only tale she has to tell. She’s been doing it for weeks, and they all know it well by now. Older, omega, the woman, and at the latter and less comely stage of life. Most of them here can say the same. They usually give their names, those that get up to share—although it’s never a requirement when you attend, it is highly encouraged—the sharing, he means—but he never pays much mind to them—the names, that is. That’s not what he’s here for after all—to make friends. Although, he does see how that’d be the initial assumption. 

Joel Miller is here for something more specific.

Six weeks he’s been showing up to these things now, and he’s yet to take a turn. He tells himself he’s working up to it. 

What that specific thing is…he hasn’t quite figured out. He’s listening for it, though, and intently, even if he does skip over the names. It’s the details of what they’re telling that matter to him. The hows and intricate whys of what it is that brought them here today.  

Her youth had been spent on a drunk, the woman is saying—her husband—and he’d been cruel to her in those days when there was still currency to spend in the form of her vitality. Joel nods at the puce—yes, he thinks, that’s usually the way of it. But later, there’s more to the story she reminds her audience, he drank himself into a fit, and had never been right since. The cruelty had been taken away from the marriage after that, and she’d been put in charge. 

“But I wonder,” she says, “If sometimes I don’t miss it, the way he’d been,” —if the reason she was here now, with all of the rest of them that were just like her in their own unique ways, was that she’d been left lonely after her cruel husband had been exchanged for a sick one. 

Joel nods again and wonders what sort of face the woman wears as she confesses but doesn’t bother to check. No matter, he knows they’re the same. If not in designation, then in heart. 

It’s easy, that thing, he does it too, to wish for the bad. To want to hold on to it, the thing that hurts. Addictive, even, in some cases. Missing it is easy. 

It’s why he’s here. 

And it’s what they promise you. In their flyers and pamphlets, when they stand on the corners of streets talking people up wearing that look in their eye and that slouch in their step, when they smell it on you—or in the lack there of—a mate or a purpose.

Welcome to our meeting. We’re here to find the cure for loneliness. 

That’s what they promise you when you come here. 

It’d been that word: loneliness, actually, that had caught him. L-O-N-E-liness. There was something attractive about it to him. Not a label but a state. 

You see, it was like this: Joel had seen a therapist once, several years ago, against his will and at the behest of another, who’d said all the wrong things in all the wrong ways. 

“You sound depressed, Joel,” the therapist had told him. 

He’d worn horn rimmed glasses and had a shiny bald head he could see the reflection of the overhead lights in. And worse—the non-scent of a beta which told him they’d never understand each other in the ways Joel longed to be understood. He’d—not hated him, necessarily—but felt an immense apathy for the man; more so than the regular apathy he felt for most things in his life. 

“I don’t know what that means.” 

“Very, very sad,” was the official diagnosis.

Joel hadn’t liked the sound of the word. The label. He did not like that a word so succinct could be ascribed to him and all that had happened to him in his life. There was no word for it. It just was. 

But there was something different about a state of aloneness, which if attributed to himself, he could accept. He had been left alone, in ways. It was a tangible thing he could look around a room inside of himself and recognize. 

They’re meetings, is what this place is—encounter groups this coalition offers where lonely demi humans can come to congregate, discuss their aloneness, what had led them to such a state; their lack of attachments, connections, mates—alpha, omega. Held in the basement of the Emmanuel Episcopal Church on Newbury street, right between his shop and house, although they never talk about religion which he likes because he doesn’t believe in religion. 

God is still under review. 

He wonders if the Catholics wouldn’t have them. 

Sitting forward in his seat, the metal folding chair that always leaves his back aching something fierce, he presses his elbows into his knees to distract with alternative pressure. Focusing on his fingers woven together between his spread legs, he tries to pay attention to the man who’s stood up to speak now. Older than himself, late sixties, no children, no family, no nothin’; he’d run them all off. 

But Joel is distracted. 

The smell is stronger now. Stranger too. Something full bodied, but metallic like rust, astringent bleach, built in a way that forces saliva to pool heavy between his suddenly aching gums. A mask that sits atop something of a much different chemical architecture—that’s the strange part. 

Or—no. The back of his neck itches, and Joel lifts a palm to cup his nape, quell the sting, feel the tender mark. No. The strange part is not the illusion of the smell. What it is, actually, is that he’s fairly certain what he’s smelling is someone else's blockers. Something which he’s positive he’s never consciously noticed on another person in the thirty plus years since he’d presented as an alpha. 

He has, suddenly, the quite intense urge to peek over his shoulder, certain that he’ll be caught smelling things he has no business smelling. That there will be someone just there, breathing down the nape of his neck with accusation on their tongue—boo!

Silly. But he’d known today would not be a good day. 

It’d started off wrong. The milk had gone sour overnight, the check engine light had come on in his truck, all his socks were suddenly mismatched with not a single pair to be found, and his usual route to work had been waylaid by some freak accident. A tree split in half, one side into a house, the other into the road. Not a sign of lightning in the sky all night long. 

Perhaps he might be compelled to believe in God after all. 

Joel does not like it when things are out of order or out of the ordinary. His life was organized in a way that never caused him strife or excess. And it was not that he was stuck in his ways, only that he enjoyed his routine and disliked when things were not as they should be. And this—whatever it is he’s smelling, whoever—is not as it should be. 

The older gentleman, an Alpha too, is still speaking. He had a daughter, has, who no longer speaks to him. Won’t even take his money. He’d had a long career in government that’d filled him with greed and paranoia and a radical view of life that refused to align with the way young people saw the world now. Perhaps he’d tried to change at certain times, but he was old and set in his ways. Or maybe he hadn’t wanted to change as badly as he should have when he still had the chance to. Happily stuck in the past. His wife had died, and his daughter had gone away from him. Too tired of his mediocrity as a father to give him another chance. 

The man sounds like he feels sorry for himself. Like he thinks himself the victim, and this one, Joel does look up at. He looks old and worn down, heavy beer pouch and thinning hair and sagging jowls. A sad and lonely man. Joel wonders if that’s how he looks to the other people in this room, as well. 

“No man knows how bad he is until he has tried very hard to be good.” Joel blinks, looks at him more closely, tries very hard to find similarities between themselves. But no—not quite right, not the thing he’s looking for. Their plight is different. This man is not alone, he’s got his weakness to keep him company. 

The one thing Joel had fought like hell to keep out of his repertoire of issues. He’d run from even the possibility of it as soon as she was dead, left Texas straight for the Northeast and from thereafter, everything he’d done, he’d done with a staunchness of character. If at the end of it, that staunchness was made up of apathy or numbness or dissociative fury, well, then at least he wasn’t still that man who’d been too weak to save his daughter. 

That counted very much in Joel’s book. 

An overabundance of cold numbness, little anger, everything a static haze—an abstinent winter. That was his whole life. But then, look at him now, he was here, wasn’t he? He’d taken that brochure handed to him on that last warm Tuesday weeks ago as he’d headed back to the shop from lunch. 

Hello, sir. Could I interest you in a cure for loneliness? The young omega had said. 

It’d started like anything—an experiment or a desperate ploy. The monotony had been steady going the past few years, getting older, colder. He’d grown hard and solitary around his wound, loneliness spread like a fungus, and he’d longed for any sort of change. 

“A cure…how?” The terrible shrink had come to mind.

“Oh, nothing to fret over.” The young man had a nice smile, Joel remembers. Kind and straight toothed. Honest in the way that a stranger knocking on your door to sell you a Bible seems honest. “We call it an encounter group. People come, share, tell the tales of their designation and their lives. In the end, the result is different for different people. Some move on to a second step if they need more. Others find what they’re looking for just through the connection of sharing. But no matter the result, you’ll see, you’ll be cured. Promise.” He’d winked, smile deepening, giving him an appreciative once over at the end of his spiel. Joel had blinked back, surprised, confused, but curiosity peaked enough he’d obsessed over it for three short days before he’d found himself stepping into the molted incense smell of the belly of a church so dimly lit he was sure not even God peaked in this sad space any longer.

“It’s that easy?” Joel had asked, childlike in his throat-strangled hope.

“That easy.”

It seemed the smile had been honest enough to sell him the Bible. 

The scent insists upon itself as the older gentleman finishes up, and Joel’s nose tickles with whatever it is it’s whispering at him. He wants to get up and walk out, run away, but suddenly his gut is tight and hot, and he isn’t sure he can actually stand up without disgracing himself in front of all these people. A wash of agonized heat moves through him, confused at what’s suddenly happening to his body. 

“We have a newcomer today sharing for the first time,” Maria, the woman who leads the group, says at the front of the room. “Everyone give her a warm welcome, it’s her first day and already she’s brave enough to jump on up here.”

There’s the shuffling of bodies in their seats, a cleared throat, the man sitting behind Joel breathes so loudly he thinks he’s gotta have some sort of medical condition, the puce turns more hideous by the second, and his own heart is beating so hard in his ears the rush of blood is dizzying. He feels each thump of the thing against his breast bone in some sick imitation of a fist begging to be let out. 

The new voice begins as nothing but a murmur. 

An introduction—he misses the name. His breathing goes shallow, he’d tip over in his seat if he didn’t have both boots planted firmly against the puce. The voice gains strength and with it, Joel wishes he’d been paying attention from the start. He didn’t get to hear her name. 

It’s a girl.

She’d run away from home in the spring of her sixteenth year to join the opera, she tells them. Had come upon the city in roaring spring and thought the rest of her life would be exactly like that, pure novelty in bloom, nothing like what she’d left behind. And was deeply disappointed when the reality was nothing such. 

And Joel hears it, that disappointment in her voice at what she’d not been able to find after searching for it so religiously. This is what makes him look up at her. This, unlike all the others, he thinks he can relate to—just by the sound of her voice. The search for a thing lost which can never again be found. The fruitlessness of it all. 

At that first vulnerable, terrified glance, she’s already staring at him, eyes catching like hooks. 

He blinks once, twice—color—is sure he can hear the movement of his eyelashes passing through the air, the stick of his lids meeting—color—bright. This is it.

That wash of heat turns into a blaze, every single bead of sweat blooming on his brow is a tell evaporating into the ether. This is what he’d sensed from the start of the evening. Maybe even from the moment he’d seen that split maple. 

“My mother always said I needed to be stronger, bolder, not so sensitive.” She looks away from him now. “I grew up in an angry house where you had to fight tooth and nail not to be overrun. Because of this, I left it at a very young age, and it was the greatest fight I could muster, abandoning that house of anger. I found myself something to bring me what I thought would be joy, a job and a city, and for a time, it was enough. But starting your lonely life so young…it’s hard.” After a pause of breath, “It’s been hard.”

“And it’s made me never want to have to—exert myself,” she says, searching for the right words, smiling when she finds them, and Joel has the urgency to smile back. “Now, I never want to have to be strong. I never want to have to try. I want to only be the way that I am. If that’s weak or sensitive or whatever it might be at any given moment, I don’t care. I don’t want to have to fight. I never want to be in an angry house again. I want someone who’ll see this in me and understand and never make me work for it, that they would give it to me willingly, easily, without me having to ask. Do you understand?” She looks about the room, and he hopes her eyes will land on him again, and even though they don’t, he feels she’s speaking directly to him. He nods, the hook of her temptation cast beneath his chin. “This is a fantasy. And it makes for a lonely existence. This idea of how I need it to be for it to be right—love.” She looks down at her hands folded atop the podium where they go to stand at the front of the group and share, and he wills her gaze to find him amidst the crowd again. “It’s so difficult. And this might seem very bad to you, weak willed, but it’s not. It’s only very honest. Which can never be a bad way to be.” That’s why she’s here, she tells them.

Finally, she looks back at him, and it’s that loneliness of two people amidst a crowd, facing one another, knowing themselves mirrored against the other and yet still disparate. There’s something indecent about the way she looks at him in front of all these people, the way he, in turn, looks back. A little bit like finding your own face on a stranger's body in a crowded room. Color rises to his face, and she gives him that same elusive smile from before. 

He’s the one to look away this time. 

As the crowd disperses for coffee and pastries after the last of the speakers, he searches for her. He needs to ask her name, feels as if he’s some blighted creature without it, swears he’ll never forgo attention during a meeting again if he can fish it out of her.

He finds her at the dessert table, Maria at her side and a hand at her shoulder. Something of a thank you is being imparted between the two women. The girl is saying she’s grateful for the welcome, grateful that they’d found each other. 

Joel has things to be grateful to Maria for, too. His brother, mainly. It’d been pure chance that Joel had met her here, that she knew Tommy also. She’d met his brother on a summer trek to Wyoming where they’d become friends and had kept in touch afterwards. The woman has a thing about her that ingratiates people by sheer force of will. Perhaps it’s that she’s an alpha, too. Perhaps it’s just the charisma and wide smile. The fact that she has a countenance that takes no shit from anyone, that makes demands of a person whether they’ve got any give or not. But whatever the case, they’d realize their connection through Tommy, and she kept Joel updated on his brother whom he’d not spoken with in many years. 

Watching the two women stand together and share that easy thanks that Joel so urgently owes, and yet which he cannot voice, he feels, suddenly, so angry. So awkward. So humiliatingly inexperienced. So unable to grapple with the pain of human contact, the fascination of it, the humiliating necessity. 

That decade old anchor weighing him in place and the guilt of even thinking of it as such. 

I feel decrepitly alone and odd, he thinks. And how strange, no? He was a normal man. He has a normal job. He lives in a normal house. Unexceptional in every sense. Everything in his life had been ordinary up until that one great tragedy. And then, as if none of the before had ever existed, it was as if everything afterwards was one great landslide of wrongness. The filth of it slinging mud all over his life so that nothing had ever been right after her. 

So that now he cannot even approach this girl whose name he needs to know, and Maria, to whom he owes the last surviving connection to his brother. 

As Maria turns to go, she gives him an encouraging nod, sending him into an agony of shyness. She’d sensed him hovering. 

The girl remains at the dessert table, perusing the pastries. He can see her fingertips dancing over the golden, sugared confections, before she settles on a plain, glazed donut. He watches the bend of her elbow, bringing it to her mouth and thirty seconds later, the empty hand reaching for a napkin. He can’t help the huff of laughter it draws from him. 

Watching the unknown creature with her back turned, he peers down the length of himself. Wood stain marred t-shirt, old work jeans and scuffed boots, he’d come straight from the shop. Looking back at her, she seems perfectly packaged and pristine. The two of them, different as chalk and cheese. He tells himself he shouldn’t do it, turn around and go, leave her alone, as he steps up beside her at the table. 

Immediately, there’s the heat of her skin, the smell of her shampoo, and he realizes, and it’s silly because it should’ve been obvious from the get go, she’s an omega. The epiphany, not that she is one, but that he’d been too stupid and oblivious to notice, leaves him feeling vulnerable and angry. 

Any sort of hello that’d been coming alive on his tongue immediately dies. And he’s about to make a run for it once again when she speaks up from beside him, “Would you like a donut?” Her small fingers are dancing over the pastries, searching once again. “I haven’t had one yet,” she lies, “I can’t decide which looks best.” 

The dancing hand pauses over a golden brown puff pastry, seemingly coming to a decision, when she turns to look up at him. The scent of her isn’t just shampoo, not just the blockers he’d shockingly picked up on before, sharp, burning his nose. It’s her skin now, too. The dry sweat from hustling under her coat to make it to her first meeting on time salted along her limbs. Hot, sweet almonds. The shocking vermillion of the morning’s split maple comes to mind. He can smell her.

“A puff pastry?” She presses, quizzical crook to her brow at his silence and glower. “I think you really need something sweet. It’ll make you feel better.”

He wants to agree, to say he also thinks he needs something sweet. All he can manage is a short grunt because she smells…indescribable. Honeyed musk, something heady, like she herself had just got done baking, straight out of the oven and full of sugar into his waiting mouth. 

That earlier anger, it kicks up a notch. Why isn’t he fucking saying anything? 

She shrugs, as she lifts the puff pastry to her mouth he finally manages sound. 

“You stink.”

He doesn’t know when he became such a liar.

A pause, mouth open, straight, white teeth ready to bite into the fluffy sweet bread. He can see her small, pink tongue, and it makes him go a little woozy.

He might be losing his mind. 

She’s got elegant eyebrows that shoot straight up her smooth forehead. The look of her skin is glorious. “Excuse me?”

Now, there seem to be too many words spilling out of his mouth. “You need better meds or somethin’. Need to sort your shit out. Can’t go gallivanting about the world smellin’ like that.” Oh god, shut up. 

“Excuse me!” She takes a huge bite of the pastry. “I do not gallivant,” she shoots back, mouth full of sugar and Joel goes hot everywhere. “What is wrong with you?” she demands, the pursing of a prim little mouth as she chews, eyeing him maliciously. 

He hasn’t the damndest clue. 

She is not wary of him in the slightest, which in turn tells him he needs to be wary of her.

Another large bite, inexplicably she extends her free hand towards him—potentially going into shock and entirely out of his depth when he takes it, the vulnerability of tendon and muscle soft beneath his strength—offering him a firm shake. She gives him her name. 

In that moment, she has a look about her that tells him she’ll bite back if he isn’t careful, even if she hurts herself in the process. 

And now he knows you. 

-

“We might as well acquaint ourselves if you’re going to insult me. Don’t you think?” Peering up at him, he’s tall, well over six feet, and broad shouldered. Older, distinguished, but in a rough way, hewn oak, gray. “Are you typically this rude? Or is this a special occasion?”

Incredibly handsome. 

“I’m being serious.”

“I do not stink. No one has ever said that to me, and my blockers are quality. It must be a you problem.” The puff pastry really is very good. And this man really is very handsome. Coming here today was a good idea. 

One of the girls from the theater had suggested it, handing you a pamphlet with Looking for the Cure for Loneliness? emblazoned across the top, and even though she’d done it kindly, any other person would’ve taken the implication as an insult. Hey girl! No offense, but we all in the company think you’re super weird and have you heard about this support group for losers? Kind of like Omegas Anonymous!

Those hadn’t been her exact words, and you hadn’t taken offense. After the initial agony of embarrassment, you’d warmed to the idea. You’d heard of groups like these before. Congregations of demi humans where one could come to find community or connection. Be it socializing or support for people struggling with their designations and all that they implied, they served their purpose. And anyways, you weren’t in a position to be nitpicky. 

It’s true, you’re alone. 

So alone, in fact, that even the people around you could tell. Strangers, coworkers, your roommate and her girlfriend. Like some noxious cloud of loneliness following you around virtue signaling the desperate need for love and companionship and understanding you’re so in need of. 

You increasingly saw yourself as a dancer on her toes, trembling delicately all over, vying desperately to survive to the end of the song. A monster with too many heads. A Cerberus of the richest caliber. 

Two or three would’ve been acceptable—heads—but you'd long surpassed that and moved on to something unrecognizable and unpleasant. Desperately in need of a solution. 

“Maybe you’re the one that stinks. Maybe it’s your upper lip.” And voila, the monster makes her debut. 

“My—” The rude alpha, obvious, that one, lets out a choked sound, a deeper wash of color immediately flooding his cheeks. You dip your head sideways, appraising him as you polish off your second pastry. He has pretty bone structure, masculine, and after he’s done choking and spluttering, he can’t help but laugh a little bit. You see it. 

Beneath a mouth that looks forbidding, perhaps even a little cruel, you can sense that he is not an unkind man. 

Yet you’re not so green that you can’t recognize the gnawing hunger of loneliness in others. There’s always a reason people find themselves in places like these. His face, edged with the weariness of age, makes this obvious. He has good reason for subjecting himself to this. 

Reaching for the lovely eclair you’d been deciding between earlier, you take a large bite of it. Almond cream and a thick layer of icing on top, humming happily as you chew while he stares at you like the three headed dog. 

You hold the dessert out towards him, offering. Palm up, he shakes his head no, slightly disgusted look on his face. 

“So. You come here often?”

He blinks. “Really?” Patronizing look on his face now. 

“Why not? I am actually interested to know if this is worth my time.”

He rolls his eyes. Oh, he’s fun. “Yes, I come here often. Every Friday, for the past two months just about.”

“And you like it?”

“Is this the sort of place one likes?”

“Oh, come on. You never know what you might find.” He watches your mouth as you finish the eclair, swallowing hard. “Anyways, I think the world is kind of over out there. Don’t you? Might as well make the best of it in here.” 

Thumb pressed against the edge of the table, he looks down, suddenly awash with shyness once again. A shy alpha, who’d of thought. 

“What did you used to do?” He asks, motioning at the crowded room full of chatting alphas and omegas. You wonder how many of them will go home together for a fuck after this. 

“When?” You ask, sure he means in lieu of this group, if you’d ever had another form of demi human community. 

“Before this.”

“Before this? Nothing.” Smiling at him, certain he isn’t picking up on your teasing. 

“Nothing?”

“Nope. I’ve always been here.”

“But— Don’t you…I thought...” He’s cute, shaking his head like you’re just too confusing to sustain. “You sing, right?” He pivots. 

“Sing? Me? Whatever made you think such a thing?” The sly look on your face goes completely over his head and slides to the rest of the sweets. If he wasn’t watching, you’d have another. 

“You said. You said you’re in the opera,” he gruffs back, looking visibly aggravated now. 

Such fun. 

“I’m a supernumerary,” you concede as you turn, making your way to an old relic of a pew along the far wall, tragically abandoning the desserts. 

He follows as you go, sitting a respectful distance beside you. 

“I don’t know what that is.”

“We’re the actors that fill the stage at the opera.”

“No singing?”

You shake your head, flirting with him. “I’m a wench, I’m a courtesan,” You bat your lashes, fingertips pressed coquettishly beneath your chin, “Part of a harem. I’m every woman you’ve never known. It depends on the opera.”

“I’ve never heard of that before.”

“I started as a stagehand when I first got to Boston. Worked my way up.”

“How’s it work? Lines or somethin’?”

“No lines. No anything. I’m a background actor—an extra, basically. If anything, I’m given some simple choreography direction, laugh, sigh, show fear, horror, shock. Whatever. I’m playing pretend without actually having to do anything.”

“No working for it.”

Your smile melts to blandness. So he’d been listening, then. 

“Did you want to sing?”

“No. I wanted to be a supernumerary.”

“Strange. I’ve never heard of that,” he repeats.

“You did say, yes.” Now, the smile turns auspicious. Everyone’s here for something. “What do you do?” Perhaps this is it for him. 

You eye the rest of the congregation, at the far exit, there’s a large alpha helping an omega into his coat. 

“Got a shop, furniture, woodworking and such.”

“You make things?” He nods. “Ah, a man of creation.” 

Sitting back to take him in, he’s got the beginning insinuations of silver speckling the dark hair at his temples, a well groomed beard, and large, intimidating hands. 

His small huff of laughter is bashful, tinged with something disappointed. “No, nothin’ that grand.” And he’s got an accent heavy at the ends of his words, not Bostonian. Southern.

“But you know, I wanted to say…”

“Yes?” You press when he loses his courage, leaning towards him, inhaling deeply. 

“Well, that I know what you meant earlier. Sometimes I can be the angry house.”

You blink once. Sit back. “I see.” 

“It’s hard work. I have to try every day at it.” 

Hard work being the house, or not? Two opposite sides of the same coin. 

“How do you stop yourself?” You cast a line, fishing for his character.

“Don’t know. Keep myself cold, I think.”

“That’s no way to be.”

“No. It’s not.” He sounds amused. You want to bite him.

Everyone’s here for a reason. 

“Ah, well. Perhaps that’s what’s brought you here then,” you say, twisting the toe of your sneaker against a scuff on the old hardwood, leaning forward on your palms wrapped around the edge of the pew. 

“Maybe,” he says, but a sort of pained, exasperated sound follows it. Your hung head turns to peer at the handsome face, and he’s already looking at you. 

There’s something animal afoot. Perhaps in terms of designation, sure, of course, like the rest of the alphas and omegas here. Your designations weigh heavily in the air. But also intrinsic to your two personalities. You feel you know him. That the two of you might have the same sorts of problems, desires. And as you stare at him, you think you may be equally measuring each other’s character, finding that similarity in one another. 

His eyes move quickly between yours, over your face, and you can tell that prolonged eye contact isn’t his norm.

He has the most surprising set of bright hazel eyes like river stones. 

Suddenly, you feel desperate to pull out a flicker of sexuality in the man, hear it in his voice. Sure, that with him, the experience would be entirely different, exhilarating. Perhaps a challenge. He seems to be more quiet and more patient than any other man you’d ever come across, but also more stern—taking in that soft mouth held so firmly. Far more remote too, by the far away look in his gaze. You want to see how he could be moved and what the sight of it would look like. 

“Maybe not,” he finally continues. “I’m looking for something, I think.” 

“Something like what?”

“Someone like me.”

“An alpha?”

“No,” he looks away, cringing. The word out loud seems a shock to him. “Did you listen to the woman at the start—missing the bad thing? I struggle…with that. Holding on, not letting go even when I know I should.”

You’re at an age now which sometimes makes it hard to realize or accept that what you’re living is your life. That it’s been time to grow up. That you have to remember to move forward when it’s your turn in line. 

Which is to say, that you understand him—the difficulties of knowing when to hold on and when to give up.

“Sometimes you hurt yourself because you don’t have anything else to do. Sometimes, because the alternative is much worse.”

“Holding on ‘cause there’s nothing else to do?”

“Sure. Or you’re used to it.” You’ll be gentle with him, you decide. He’s in need of gentle handling despite the stern face; not a puzzle so arbitrarily solved. And those eyes are still so bright, he doesn’t seem like he needs any more hardship.

“Don’t know why I’m tellin’ you this,” he says, accent heavy. 

“Well you did come here for a reason. Didn’t you?” Discreetly, you slide closer to his side, but he doesn’t notice. Apparently lost in the realization that perhaps this was what he’d come here for, to talk to someone, to have someone listen and relate. You’re almost positive he’s never gotten up to share with the group before in all his time coming to the meetings; doesn’t look like the type.

“I came here because I’m going to take better care of myself,” you tell him. “I’m going to try harder.”

“Harder at what?” He blinks as if attempting to come out of a dream.

“Everything. I don’t want to end up like my parents; drunk, angry, alone. I’m scared of it. I’ve avoided at least two of them.”

“I’m afraid of getting older,” the dream moves in his eyes. “That I’ll forget,” he says, but you don’t ask what.

All of a sudden, he seems very real. The swells of grief and loneliness moving through him so similarly, so close to the surface. 

Springing up, you turn to face him and he follows to stand too. You can hear the crack of his knees unfolding, and when he lifts his left palm to stifle a gruff cough, the band of gold around his finger is paralyzing. 

All of a sudden, he’d seemed like what you’d been looking for here too. There’s laughter coming from the church rafters. 

“You’re a widower?” He wants to forget, he’d said he wants to let go. 

Hadn’t he?

But instead, “What? No.” You stare pointedly at the ring, and he looks down at it also. “No,” he repeats. 

“So’re you looking for a fuck, or what?” You try and hold back the bite it comes with, but you can’t.

“No. No. That’s not what I’m looking for.” 

You don’t understand, impaired by your youth, you forget you’d chosen to be gentle with him. “Maybe it’s what you need,” you tell him, turning towards the exit before you can watch him cringe.

He follows at your heels, grabbing his coat from the hook by the doors before he’s stepping out after you into the fall blister. It’s cold and wet and glorious out. 

“Don’t you have a coat?” He demands.

“Nope.” You start walking towards Arlington Street and the park. 

“Did you walk here? It’s freezing out.”

“I did,” you turn back towards him, still moving, and he starts to follow. 

“From where?”

“Downtown.”

“Where?” He scowls at your uncooperation, the married man. Alpha. The truth was that he’d smelt strange to you too. Like no one ever had before. As glorious and shocking as the cold. Like if snow had a scent. Disappointment churns in your gut alongside the excitement at the sight of him stalking after you. 

“I don’t think you know it.” Your backward walk is interrupted as a hurrying stranger bumps into you, sending you staggering. Watch it, the Boston snark spits. The alpha turns to scowl, heavy boot forward like he’s half a mind to follow after the person you’ve just inadvertently assaulted. 

And it occurs to you, “You didn’t tell me your name.” How silly of you. You’d been so distracted you’d forgotten to ask, and what if you never see him again after this? What if you can’t muster the courage to come back again next week? What if he can’t?

“It’s Joel.” 

You think it sounds right. 

“I might—know it.” Where you’re headed to. You smile at the dog with a bone. The disappointment pulses. “Is it far?” He presses. You shrug, looking over your shoulder. You’re going to lose yourself in the garden for a few hours, forget about him. “Why don’t you drive?”

“I like to walk,” you tell him, turning back. 

He looks at you like he doesn’t like the things you say much less the way you say them much less the way you’re grinning at him. Perhaps he can see the disappointment and is disturbed by the sight of it, but the possibility seems too altruistic. 

“You should try it sometime, Joel. You might like it too.”

His huge body seems to be shivering in the cold. 

“I think…” The look on his face has turned suspicious now. He takes a step towards you. “You’re very strange. And you’re very young. I don’t think we should be friends.”

Your heart gives a demanding thump. “We’re not going to be friends.” When you’d first spotted him in the crowd, the strangest feeling had come over you. A tug behind your belly button, a scalding heat at the back of your neck, at your wrists. Perhaps it’s merely imagination, the look of disappointment you think you see on his face right before you turn away from him to continue on walking. “And I’m not that young anymore.”

You’d known today was going to be a good day. Extra cinnamon in your latte, a late start to your morning, warm in bed, no rain in the sky despite the cloud cover. And your director, late for rehearsals after some freak accident had befallen the roof of his house.

“That’s what all young people say.”

Part 2;

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[stervrucht]

“Just a second,” Eddie calls from halfway beneath his bed.

Steve taps his foot as he looks around Eddie’s room. It’s messy and there’s a lot of stuff. His eyes drift around, taking it in. There is a poster with ‘Corroded Coffin’ on it in scrawled graffiti and from what Steve can see, Eddie has at least two guitars. 

On Eddie’s desk, he spots a skull — some sort of animal, but Steve has no idea what.

Steve hears Eddie groan as he tries to move back from under the bed.   

“You need any help there, Munson?”

“Nah, I got it.” Eddie turns with some difficulty and then he’s out from under the bed, sprawled halfway across the floor. He sticks up his hand and holds out a book to Steve.

“There you go.”

“Eh, thanks.” Steve flips the book over in his hand and it’s just stupid D&D stuff. “Dustin better be grateful.”

“Is he ever?” Eddie responds while he works himself in a sitting position. There is dust in his hair and his shirt is risen to expose half his chest. 

“You got a point there.” Steve lets out an unamused laugh.

When Eddie finally stands, he readjusts his shirt and quickly combs his hair. Dust still clings to his dark curls.

Steve’s eyes fall on the skull again and from his periphery he sees Eddie follow his gaze.

“You looking at the skull?”

Steve hums in response.

“It’s a fox. Pretty sick, huh? I found it myself.” Eddie’s eyes find his and he looks oddly proud.

“Pretty cool,” Steve echoes. “How do you know it’s a fox anyway?”

“Oh, just you wait.” Eddie leans over, reaching for the skull and holding it up to Steve.

“Skull size, teeth, and see these babies—” Eddie points at the eyesockets. “They’re huge.”

“Aren’t fox heads larger?” 

“All muscle and fur.”

Muscles and fur. 

Suddenly Steve comes to the horrifying existential realization that humans are also just bone and muscle and skin. He looks over at Eddie, studies his face, and suddenly it’s like he has never seen him before.

The way skin pulls over muscle, the lines around his mouth as he smiles. And how smiling pulls Eddie’s jaw taut, appearing more angular than when it’s relaxed.

“You okay, Harrington? Guess skulls are a bit morbid, huh? I sometimes forget how normal people think.” Eddie laughs sheepishly and puts the skull away again. 

When Eddie looks back, Steve is still staring. 

The skin over collarbones is thin with little muscle. 

He looks down at Eddie’s hands which have grown nervous under Steve’s eyes. 

Silver rings, skin, muscle, bone. 

Without thinking, Steve reaches out. He holds Eddie’s hand, runs his fingers over Eddie’s. 

Soft warm skin. 

“Eh…Steve?”

Steve looks up and the urge to touch is overwhelming. He raises his hands and touches Eddie’s cheeks with curious fingers.

The skin is more coarse here — marked by a five-o-clock shadow — but it’s also warmer.

“What are you—”  

Eddie stops talking when Steve runs a finger over his lips, pulling them open, just a little. 

They’re different from regular skin; warmer and wetter. 

And then Steve has no idea what he’s doing, but he moves forward and brushes his own lips over Eddie’s. Under his fingers, Steve can feel the muscles in Eddie’s jaw grow taut. 

That piques his interest. 

He slides his hand from Eddie’s jaw to his nape. From there he can feel the muscles in the jaw, thin over bone; those in his neck, thick and strong. 

He runs his tongue across Eddie’s lower lip and he feels Eddie’s lips part, his body growing soft under his actions. Eddie’s lips are moving, tentative and testing against Steve’s. 

There is no bone there.

He licks into Eddie’s mouth, feels the smooth skin under his tongue; runs his tongue over Eddie’s teeth and takes in the contrast.

Steve pulls back, his hand growing slack against Eddie’s neck as he realises he just let himself go.

Eddie stares at him with dazed eyes.

“I didn’t know skulls did it for you, Harrington.”

[genderless-naper]

give it your all

trafalgar law x bestfriend!reader

themes: modern college au, best friends, jealousy, confession, wall sex, slight body worship & cockwarming, no protection/pull out, female reader, 18+

after failing an exam, you confessed to law how jealous you were of his natural intelligence. in return, he accidentally reveals how much he wants you.

nsfw, smut, wc: 3k, lowercase intended!

you walked into your room with frustration radiating off you. you just finished a midterm exam, but none of the topics you studied for was actually on the test. you spent countless hours studying to get a good grade only to be doomed to fail. law was sitting at your desk doing his work. you found him in the same place you left him.

you threw your bag on the floor and crossed your arms. it was enough to catch law’s attention. he continued his work as he spoke up, “did it go well?”

the annoyance you had built up from starting the exam to getting back to your room was let out all at once, “that professor is such an asshole!! i swear it’s like they’re trying to set us up for failure. nothing they mentioned on the study guide was on the exam. it was talking about topics we didn’t even review in class!”

law placed his pen down, and swirled the chair so he faced your agitated figure, “you’re probably overthinking it. i’m sure you did great. i helped you study a lot last night, and you had all the concepts down.”

you groaned, “you’re not listening. surely i failed that midterm. nothing mentioned in class was on it.”

you rubbed your arm and felt a bit jealous of the man sitting in front of you, “i wish i was naturally smart like you…”

law tried to help you feel better, “don’t say that. you have lots of things going on for you.”

“like what?? failing a midterm i stayed up all night studying for?”

he cleared his throat and put more thoughtfulness into his replies, “it’s just a midterm y/n-ya. don’t beat yourself up about it. also i was mentioning other things your good at.” law paused to think of some of your strengths and virtues, “you’re great with people and super outgoing. you have like every guys on campus wrapped around your finger, and you go on dates all the time.”

you rolled your eyes, “that doesn’t mean anything though. i care more about failing my classes than stupid boys.”

law shrugged, “well it’s not fair in my eyes. i wish i could do that.”

you tilted your head, “you can do that though law. you just need to go out and find people you like talking to.”

“i wasn’t referencing you. i was referencing them.”

confusion led you to ask, “what do you mean by that.”

law answered without thinking through his response at all, “those guys you go on dates with get to have that side of you, and they don’t even realize how lucky they are.”

you paused for a minute to take in what he said. it was an accidental confession that law had no intention of letting out. you held his eye contact in an attempt to find out if he was telling the truth.

after a stretched out silence he cleared his throat, “i didn’t mean to say that. forget about it.”

you raised your brow. how could you just forget about it?

“how about you elaborate on that instead?”

law turned his back to you, trying to focus on the previous work, hoping the situation would disappear on its own. you, on the other hand, wouldn’t let it go so easily.

you walked to his seated figure, and reached over to shut his laptop. you turned his chair back to face you then leaned down while holding the arm wrests. laws golden eyes gazed into your intensively as he tried to understand what your motive was at that moment.

“elaborate.” was all he heard. he found it hard to form a verbal response especially when you pressed him so hard about it. he didn’t quite know what to tell you that also wouldn’t affect the friendship you two have built.

so he didn’t say anything. he kept quiet. you leaned down dangerously close to him while holding his gaze. he sighed in defeat knowing there wasn’t a way to escape you at that point. he decided to speak, partially because he was also over hiding how he felt about you, “it’s not fair that they get to have your interest like that. i’m the one that sits with you every night before your exams to help you study. i’m the one who gets you to do your work when you don’t want to. yet they’re the one’s you’re always interested in. i’m honestly over it y/n.”

law gets up from the chair and packs his things back into his bag. it seemed pointless to stick around anymore. he figured he ruined things enough.

“where do you think you’re going?” you grab his packed bag to throw it back to its original place on the floor. the fact that he thought he could leave after dropping a bomb like that infuriated you, “you don’t just get to do whatever you want to. you’re staying.”

you knew the chances of him actually listening were slim. you were determined to make sure he didn’t leave, so you walk towards him until he’s backed up against the wall.

law started to become mildly irritated. he didn’t understand why you were doing all of this. if you wanted to shame him for what he said then why pull these antics? just as he was about to object against your actions you spoke instead, “why haven’t you ever made a move then?”

law rubbed his temples as he responded, “why does that matter? it’s not like you’re interested anyways. you’re always eyeing other people that aren’t me.”

you immediately dismissed his response, “has the thought ever occurred to you that i probably do that because of you? you’ve never once showed any sign of romantic interest. how could i go after you if i didn’t know you wanted me??”

law’s eyebrows turned knitted as he dissected your statement in his mind. he was certain his ears deceived him, “are you saying..?”

at that point an increase of agitation grew within you. you soon realized that now would be the best time to take action. the likelihood of an opportunity like this happening again are slim. before you could mentally decide your words beat you to it, “do you want me to show you what i mean? clearly it’s too difficult for you to understand with just words.”

the bold statement heightened your heart rate, and could’ve sworn that the tattooed man before you could hear it as well.

it’s always difficult read law’s thoughts on normal circumstances, but right now it was clear to you that he only wanted you.

he let his hands travel and place themselves on your waist. in one swift motion he substituted his position against the wall with yours. before you could realize it was now you who was pressed against the wall. law’s towering golden gaze was fixed on examining you as if you were a research project he was being graded on. you simply knew he was determined to get full marks.

“let me show you instead. i’ve had to keep myself in check for so long just for you.”

you smirked as you pulled his collar down so his face was leveled with yours to respond, “give it your all then trafalgar.”

your green light what the exact thing the man was looking for. although he liked you, more than he’d admit, he never thought about the dirty things he’d do to you. he always suspected it was unlikely to occur.

yet here he was desperate to pull your clothes off like a starving animal.

soon he discarded your garments leaving you exposed to his eyes. the only items obstructing his view were your bra and panties. still the man wasted no time admiring your body. you allowed his hands to roam, to feel, to touch any part he desired. the freedom bestowed upon him anxiously thrilled him.

“you’re so gorgeous y/n, i could stare at you all day long..”

his breath was caught as his eyes were lost in your beauty.

he was unaware of how long he spent just starring at you until he saw that you seemed to be at a state of unease.

he leaned down to press his yearning lips against your collarbone. it was a sweet kiss, but powerful enough to send shivers down your spine.

as he made his way to your shoulder you lean close to his ear to speak, “take everything off already, please law..”

“give me a second to take you in y/n.”

and that’s exactly what he did until your patience for him started to run thin. it felt like fire was erupting off your skin. he was tormenting you with every second he put off.

his hands glided up the natural curve of your spine, and effortlessly unhooked your bra. you let it slip and hit the floor soon, following with your panties, and kicking them to the side.

law’s inked hand made its way to the front of your figure to explore the new region on display. he held your breast with care as he leaned down to lick your bud. he dragged his tongue over and over your nipple feeling it harden from his repeated actions. you rested your head against the wall permitting shallow breaths to leave you. law’s gentle grip eventually turns into grasping motions that squeezed at your tissue. he made sure to give the same attention to the other side by switching back and fourth. moments when he pulls back to catch his breath he whispered how in awe he was of your every minute detail. the praises that fell from his mouth drove your desire for the man to increase making you more impatient by the second.

finally satisfied with your captivating body he put to work with discarding his own clothes. when pulling off his shirt his muscles, inked by tattoos, would naturally flex giving you a show that was irresistible to look away from.

he shared your eye contact as he raised his hand to his mouth to lick his middle and ring finger. he held them together as he sentenced them to please you between your thighs. he placed them above your clit, applying standard pressure, and began to massage in circular motions.

the sudden gasp from your lips indicated to him of the pleasure being received from his fingers.

law chuckled because of your sudden reaction, “i’m barely touching you and you’re acting like this. should i go a bit harder-“ law simultaneously applied the indicated pressure, “or should i go faster y/n?” the man increased his circular haste. asking for your decision meant nothing to him at that moment. it could’ve been considered more of a warning than a question.

you tried your best to not let your moans get the best of you, but it was difficult when your mind could only focus on how good the man’s fingers felt. you hadn’t noticed his member rising with anticipation ready to make you a moaning mess.

law adjusted his motions to reach back and fourth to your hole. realizing his licked figured would ultimately serve no purpose because the wetness you exhibited was far more useful. he used it to his advantage in order to prepare you for what was yet to come.

he spoke in a low tone, “are you ready y/n-ya? lets get to the real fun already.”

you nodded fast agreeing with him. you were unsure how much more torture of the clit you could take before your orgasm engulfed you.

law averted his attention on his own growing discomfort. the member in desperate need of relief appeared swollen at the tip, and veins carved out the sides of his length. law pulled away his fingers from your clit to hooked a singular arm under your leg and keep it lifted. he held the leg up exposing your wet core, and pressed you harder against the wall with his body. his length naturally pressed up against your core, and was barely consumed in your folds.

he shifted his hips back and fourth to drag his member along your heat. he aimed to cover himself in your slick, so entering wouldn’t be such a task, and he could focus on what truly mattered.

you on the other hand was being driven by heightened arousal. you wanted nothing more than to be fucked into oblivion. exasperated from the situation, you decide to take the initiative. you reach to his hard member and position it to your hole. you push yourself down enough to fit the tip in.

the size of his member stretched your entrance more than you expected. he questioned if you were okay only to which you managed a hum. you were too busy biting down your lip to form a proper reply.

he motioned that he would soon start, to which you nod your head giving him another green light.

he passed his member in and through your walls. he felt your walls naturally squeeze his member, and the warmth increasing the blaze on his skin. he watched as you shut your eyes and meekly groan due to the unfamiliar length.

he paused his movements to let you regain your composure. law removed fallen strands of hair and tucked them behind your ear before speaking up, “you’re gonna do great y/n-ya. i’m gonna start, is that okay?” the man waited for your approval, which you happily gave, and started to rock his hips slowly. surely he wanted to pick up his pace, but he wanted you to adjust as well.

law felt unsettlingly sexually attracted to you. the slow pace he set eventually caused him to curse himself out in his mind. he wanted to pound you right then and there, but he just had to be so considerate of you. he figured the best thing to distract his mind, and so he pressed his like against yours. it was the first time he ever kissed you. he never predicted your first kiss would happen after he was balls deep in you.

your lips shared warmth, and it caused your bodies to further align. every slow thrust drew you both into a deeper and more passionate kiss. you two were in a war zone and the kiss served as paradise.

the natural depth of the kiss blurred the lines of sense in law’s mind. without realizing he responded to his body’s natural sexual thirst by feverishly picking up the pace of his hips. you had to pull away to voice out your pleasure through moans. your eyes squeezed themselves shut. he saw the pain, but also the pleasure. his forehead rested on the wall next to your head, and he grunted in your ear like a dog chasing a high that felt so far away.

no more holding him back. he pushed every regressed emotion felt into his thrusts. they hit you harshly like the force of a tsunami. at that moment you fully realized just how much law was holding back just for the sake of the friendship, and how much he simply didn’t care anymore.

the constant sensation of his member grazing your walls edged you closer to your climax, “fuck law, you feel so fucking good~”

his name rolling off your tongue in moans made him feel cockier than he should’ve been. the man that once dreamt of you every night that week was finally getting what he wanted. he wasn’t going to let any moment fleet away from him.

his thrusts, now set at a monstrous pace, forced you to your orgasm faster than you’d anticipated. your nails dug into his skin, and you vocalized your pleasure through your moans. although it was clear you had reached your goal and had no more reason for the continuous pace, law had no intention of stopping. law growled into your ear, “why do you feel so fucking good y/n~?”

he didn’t miss a beat. that is until he climax snapped like a twig. his white substance launched into you, and filled you up leaving you warm from within. it took a while for you to the catch your breaths. the sweat caused by the shared experience made you both feel sticky. you spoke up once you felt like you were no longer desperate for oxygen, “are you gonna pull out..?”

law looked at you through half-lidded eyes. it was clear his orgasm exhausted him. his own words felt like they blurred together, “just forget about it for now…” he kept his member fully inserted in your warm heat.

he used the last of his efforts to pick up your other leg. he carried you to your bed, and you both collapsed onto it. not once did his member withdraw from within you.the natural exhaustion you felt led you to doze off instantly. law was on the verge of following you before he was taken out of his own conscious.

the sound of a notification popping on your phone alerted him. he reached over and grabbed the phone to read what it was.

your midterm grade results had came back. curious of your results, law input your password in to check the grade. he smiled at the green box holding the ‘93%’ in it. he was glad to know you would wake up with good news.

he put the phone back down and tiredly whispered to your sleeping figure, “i told you that you would do well…”

masterlist

[ariseur]

ffvii jealousy headcanons 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

✧˖*°࿐ includes cloud strife, zack fair, sephiroth, reno, genesis rhapsodos, and angeal hewley

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

just a little something to satisfy you guys while i continue working on my requests!! already did a dmc one so might as well do a ffvii one too lol

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

jealousy (obviously), some possessiveness, intended lowercase, like one bullet point about post-nibelheim sephiroth, just a couple of guys who love the reader??, lmk if i missed anything !! 🎀

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ 𝓒LOUD — 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

❥ cloud is the type of person who will swear up and down that he doesn’t get jealous, but truth be told, he does. however, he doesn’t recognize it as jealousy at first.

❥ although, he definitely tries to shove his feelings down once he realizes that he’s somewhat upset. cloud won’t upright and confess that he’s jealous or go up to you when he sees someone flirting with you.

❥ cloud’s pretty understanding if you needed space or if you were just talking with someone else, he’s not gonna immediately resort to his insecurity.

❥ but once it’s a reoccurring experience, or if they know what they’re doing— or worse, if they’re actively flirting with you or touching you, then he’ll definitely start to get a little jealous.

❥ instead of actively confronting you or getting up in the flirt’s face, he’ll only watch afar at first. he’ll observe the conversation, the light touches, checking to see if you look uncomfortable or not.

❥ when it begins to become too much though, cloud’ll come up to you, saying something along the lines of how he needs you or needs your help and that it’s so urgent that you have to come with him asap.

❥ if you even insinuate that he got jealous though, he’ll deny it to the moon and back and say that it never happened. he may act like he doesn’t care, but don’t let it fool you. cloud cares about you way too much to let you be slobbered over at a bar by a disrespectful dude.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ 𝓩ACK — 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

❥ i feel like zack’s semi into pda? as long as he’s not around the firsts or anybody important, especially angeal, then he just can’t wait to show you off. he can’t help it, poor boy loves you too much 😭 so because of the somewhat pda, i dont see a lot of people trying to flirt with you— especially knowing that your boyfriends a SOLDIER.

❥ i dont think he’d even notice at first, too busy talking to you to even notice that theres someone who has your attention also. i cant see anybody really trying to flirt with you though, zack’s like that one small dog who keeps yapping at your feet when you get to close to its owner.

❥ zack is very vocal!! if the person interrupts your conversation, he will blatantly call them out on it. he’d narrow his eyes at them and just say, “hello, i was talking to them??” because who interrupts people like that?? plain rude!!

❥ saw this in another post and i totally agree with it, zack’ll joke and joke with underlying messages behind these said ‘jokes’ and definitely has the mindset of, “what can they offer when you have me???” he just doesn’t see how they catch your attention or why they’re talking to you while hes sitting right there??

❥ will bend over backwards just for your attention, he will pout otherwise if he doesn’t get your full undivided attention after his attempts.

❥ will probably annoy the person after you’re gone by either passive-aggressively interrogating them or ranting about how in love he is with you. he’s like the cartoons where they hold their chin in their palm with heart eyes as they look up all dreamy with a giant thought bubble that’s just you. he can’t help it, he just loves you too much (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞!!1!1!

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ 𝓢EPHIROTH — 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

❥ for pre nibelheim (because i miss soft and not crazy sephiroth), i cant see him getting all that much jealous? i guess he’d get more so protective if he sees someone all up on you— but otherwise, he’s pretty laid back about it. he puts a lot of his faith in you entrusting that you won’t break it, so i cant see him going crazy over it.

❥ i think sephiroth’s mature enough to not cause a scene even if he was jealous, though. he wouldn’t be petty or actively try to keep you away from anybody pre nibelheim, although he finds it amusing how they try to flirt with you.

❥ he especially has to have trust in you considering he’s a first class!! unless you are also a SOLDIER or you’re associated with shinra, you guys will spend semi-large gaps of times apart. he doesn’t think you’d betray him like that though, he’s mature enough to have a conversation if he’s really worried.

❥ sephiroth has his moments of insecurity, but usually when he’s off duty— he’ll be with you. i’m just imagining sitting at a bar with sephiroth as he’s literally right beside you while this persons trying to slide up next to you lol. i also don’t think sephiroth gets jealous because he knows his worth and know he can be intimidating when he wants to be!! even just his teasing makes people quiver in their fuckin boots lmao. i doubt anybody would wanna mess with a first class SOLDIER who’s fit and over 5’11” / 180cm.

❥ after they either get intimidated or realize their advances aren’t working and that you’re happily in a relationship with sephiroth and leave, he’ll chuckle to himself as he thinks aloud about how silly it was to even attempt to get with you, knowing who you’re with. on the off chance that he’s feeling a little possessive or something, he’s not one for pda but he might just give you a kiss after they leave and a quick murmur of amusement due to their foolishness.

❥ now!! post-nibelheim!! you’re not even gonna be out of his sight enough to be hit on considering he’s kinda like.. a war criminal in a sense 😭. he’s much more possessive in his little silly criminally existentially crisis insane arc, never letting you leave alone or even go out in public that often. he’s much more obsessed with you after his break, so if he finds someone even making advances on you?? ooh, boy.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ 𝓡ENO — 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

❥ reno is one weird little dude, let me tell you that. every time i think of reno, i think of a cat. with a suit. suit cat.

❥ reno does get jealous a lot of the time, even if he is usually all up on you anyways. he still is a turk and also has to spend some time away from you, leading to overlapping thoughts of you while he’s away, maybe not even just possessive but also about if something happened to you. nothing could cure these thoughts better than a little phone sex, though.

❥ i’d like to think reno’s into pda as long as he’s not at work, poor rude having to witness wet kisses on your cheek with a lazy arm slung across your shoulder ever day. so i can’t really imagine anybody trying a bunch of stuff with you when usually— reno’s not too far behind.

❥ if reno happens to be not right next to you and he’s just doing his own thing and he happens to GLANCE AT YOU? AND HE SEES SOMEONE HITTING ON YOU?? instant slide next to you.

❥ he’s petty enough to start calling you all these pet names while he’s sitting next to you, wrapping his arm around you while he’s sizing the flirt up. he’ll look them up and down with a hard stare and maybe throw some passive aggressive comments every once in a while.

❥ he’ll probably make them uncomfortable (unless they wanna square up, because knowing reno, he might just charge if the person reciprocates his belligerent comments) so by the time they already leave, reno’s already whining against you as he asks what that was all about, acting all clueless afterwards. but you can tell just from the tone that laces his voice that he knows what he’s doing lol.

❥ he’s just a petty guy, maybe not so much possessive because i mean you can go out wherever you want wearing whatever you want (maybe after a small quickie at home if it’s something revealing), he can fend for you. he swears he’s your knight in shining armor no matter how much he teases you lmfao

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ 𝓐NGEAL — 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

❥ now here’s the real knight in shining armor™!!!! angeal is your savior if you’re ever in an uncomfortable situation, although he doesn’t really get jealous at all— he’s just very observant of you.

❥ angeal has a whole thing about how in a relationship you must have faith and he’s very comfortable with both you and himself. he’s happy in your relationship and he is secure with himself!! if zack ever sees you two together and he’s like “(」°ロ°) 」??”, bombarding him with questions as usual, then i can just see angeal giving zack a talk on how to treat women and the gentleman way of approach— although zack is very respectful, it’s just in angeals nature to lecture.

❥ he won’t think anything of it when someone you know sits with you, you guys usually know each others relatives and friends well enough to trust them. but he’s a little iffy when a random stranger starts chatting you up.

❥ angeal obviously trusts you!! again, unless you’re a SOLDIER (which he wouldn’t prefer only because he worries about your well being), then you guys will have to spend some time apart. he has a lot of faith in you and will always write you when he’s away, letting you know he’s always thinking of you while you’re apart.

❥ if anything, he’ll save you if he notices you’re uncomfortable or something along those lines. he’ll swiftly say he needs your for something and apologizes to the person out of courtesy that he interrupted your guys’ conversation, but oh it’s so urgent, we must retreat!! and i must hold you hand in hand while we run off and do totally boring SOLDIER duties!!

❥ omfg then he pulls you aside and asks if you’re okay and ugh i just want him so bad. like sephiroth, he’ll also explain how foolish it was to even hit on you when you’re clearly happily in a relationship with him. you two’ll walk along back to hq (?) or whatever while you talk about how odd the encounter was.

❥ so in conclusion !! angeal is a gentleman and doesn’t get jealous / protective unless he thinks you’re in trouble or you’re clearly uncomfortable. angeal hewley to the rescue!!!

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ 𝓖ENESIS — 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

❥ this dramatic bitch.

❥ genesis is so petty that he’ll probably consider the possibility that you’re flirting back? and then proceed to ignore you or leaving you off with some esoteric poetry while he tends to his duties. he is first class, after all.

❥ if he’s sitting right next to you though, and he hears that you’re not flirting with them. he’s petty enough like reno where he’ll suddenly be throwing out all these dramatic pet names and throw longing glances towards you, except he won’t even spare a glance towards the other person— simply only paying attention to you.

❥ id consider genesis a jealous person, but i do think that most of it strikes a protective instinct within him. he does understand that he’s also a first class SOLDIER meaning he’ll have to trust you, but he has way too much time on his hands to think. also like angeal where he’ll write you as much as he can— except he’ll send you mindless poems he writes or favored quotes of LOVELESS.

❥ in the case that you leave to go to the bathroom or any sort of occasion, genesis would probably scare the other person or make them feel uncomfortable as well. but when you return and they’re gone, he’ll act so clueless. all, “whatever do you mean, dearest?”

❥ another instance where i don’t think anybody would try anything with you. like angeal and sephiroth, genesis is a first class SOLDIER. everybody knows these dudes are the real shit (well, mainly only sephiroths talked about, but it applies to genesis and angeal too!!) so hes all smug parading you around as he side eyes every person who gawks at you. of course he knows you’re beautiful, but your beauty is too much for these fools to comprehend. so yes, he must glare at every single of them.

❥ and yes, also like his companions, he will jeer and whine about how silly it was to try that with you when you two are alone. i can even see genesis pulling a cloud and just whisking you away claiming you need to do something and then act like nothing happened afterwards. either that, or he’ll overdo it and claim to be your angel— no in between.

[eddiethebrave]

secret admirer part three

646 words

one two

Eddie is wearing a white shirt. It wouldn’t be weird if Steve wasn’t so sure that the boy was allergic to color. 

Steve pauses his chewing. He turns to Carol where she sits next to Tommy across from him. “Is white a color?”

She looks at him in boredom. “It’s a mix of all of the colors.”

Steve shares a confused glance with Tommy before nodding slowly. “...Right.”

Anyway, his point stands - Eddie is wearing a white shirt. He also seems to be back in high spirits, and it wasn’t until Steve walked in and saw him in a heated discussion with his buddies at his table that he realized how much he missed the boy’s usual energy.

For as sure as he was that Eddie didn’t not want his notes, it’s relieving to know he’s probably fine. The realization draws him out of his head a bit and puts it all into a better perspective. The world doesn’t revolve around him. 

Over the weekend, Steve invites Tommy over to hangout and when he shows up, he has Carol with him. Steve idly wonders how long that’s gonna last. Tommy has been interested in her for a while. She made him work for it and honestly, Steve thinks they’re perfect for each other. 

He'd thought that whenever they made it official, that Tommy would be spending less time with Steve. If anything, though, the opposite is true. Tommy seems to hang around Steve more now than ever. He goes on and on about what he and Carol get up to, and Steve finds it kind of odd but assumes his friend is just excited. Still, Steve truly doesn’t need to know every detail from when Tommy and Carol hooked up under the bleachers. 

Steve has always gotten along with Carol in school. She’s a bit bitchy but that only means she can keep up with him and Tommy just fine.

The weekend isn’t half-bad but come Monday, Steve is revved up. He’s already had his note written for days. 

He delivers it without a hitch and excitedly waits. 

Eddie it’s hard to look away from you sometimes, i never would if i could get away with that without getting my ass kicked you don’t seem to care what people think about you or the things you like and i find that really impressive i wish i was more like you your books always look really interesting, do you have a favorite? -H

Steve wonders how hard it would be to get his schedule changed so he has at least one class with Eddie in the morning, too. 

Then he comes to his senses and realizes that would make him insanely creepy and weird. Which makes him wonder if he’s already doing that. 

He spirals. 

What if Eddie had looked so troubled because he doesn’t want to be receiving notes from some random person he doesn’t even know, what if the reason he seemed back to normal on Friday is because he’s resigned to live with the unwanted affection, what if he hasn’t even been reading the notes and he just tosses them immediately, what if, what if, what if.

He goes through his morning classes in a fog that only dissipates when he walks into the cafeteria and sees him.

Eddie is reclined in his chair with his ankles crossed and propped on the table in front of him. When Steve walks past him, he hears the boy whistling obnoxiously and rolls his eyes fondly. It's only when he takes his seat and risks another look that he spots the book in Eddie's hands. The boy is making a show out of reading it; he has the book so close that it's covering his entire face.

Steve thinks it's strange until he remembers his note this morning.

It turns out Eddie's favorite book is The Hobbit.

four

tag list (closed)

@sofadofax @noodle-shenaniganery @queenie-ofthe-void @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @devondespresso

@dreamingtheimpossibe @plutoshelm @jaywhohasthegay @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie

@dreamy-jeans137 @justdrugsformethanks @estrellami-1 @travelingtwentysomething @sleepy-steve

@wheneverfeasible @bisexual-and-broke @lil-gremlin-things

sorry if i missed anyone!!

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead on Main AU 3

Masterpost

So this one is a bit longer, but that's because part of it is the same phone conversation from the other side.

~~~~~

“Road trip!” Dick calls out. All of the- siblings(?)-younger people start to scramble before Bruce calls out for them to stop.

“This is going to be a 12 hour drive one-way, which means we won't be back until dinner tomorrow at the earliest. Not all of you can go.” This causes a lot of frowns and Danny holds in a chuckle. They start arguing over why they should be able to go and Bruce pinches his nose, right between his eyes as they shout at him.

“First and Foremost, I do believe that Masters Duke, Damian, and Stephanie have school tomorrow.” Alfred inserts. Everyone quiets to listen to him, Danny notes. Everyone else they’ll talk over, he must be important, be extra nice to him.

The three must sigh and sit back down at the table. 

“Cass, if you wouldn’t mind staying to keep them out of trouble overnight. I’m sure Alfred will see them out to school.”

Cass shrugs, then signs at Dick who responds “Of course!” Danny hadn’t realized that she was speaking sign language this whole time.

Bruce then turns to face Dick and Tim. “You have absolutely no way to keep us from coming.” Dick sing-songs.

“You both have work tomorrow.”

“Actually, Dick and I called out ten minutes ago, family emergency.” Tim shrugs. “We won’t be in for a few days unless things change.”

“Alright, go grab your things.” They both whoop and you can just tell they were both about to start running when they catch eyes with Alfred and just start walking really fast. “Pack light, and grab some changes of clothes for Jason!”

Before they can leave a phone starts ringing. They all look around before all eyes settle back on Danny. He feels around his pockets for where the phone is, before pulling it out and seeing his own number on the caller ID.

“Oh, it’s me!” Danny hurries to pick up as he hears someone mutter “Why didn’t we think of that?” from the table. Dick and Tim are almost immediately right next to him as he mumble out a hello.

“Um, hello, Jason?”

“Yeah, this is Jason. You with my family?” His heart thumps when he hears his own voice coming out the other side of the phone. It somehow makes the whole situation seem a bit more real then it did before.

“If the people that were in the room with you before are your family. I really only have confirmation that one of them is your dad.”

“Hey, we’re his family”

“We’re all his brothers and Cass is his sister.”

“Have those motherfuckers not even introduced themselves?” 

So much talking at once, Danny tries to focus on his own voice coming through the phone. It’s a little deeper than it usually is, gruffer and lilted like it’s trying to talk in an accent the mouth isn’t familiar with shaping. Danny supposes the voice he’s speaking with now must be doing the same.

“Sort of. Eventually.” Jason sighs loud enough to hear over the phone and Danny chuckles at the response. 

“Right, well your name is Danny right?”

“Yeah! Have you talked to my family yet?” They were all home the last he checked, and Jazz usually tells him before she heads out. 

“No, haven’t left your room. Your name was on your homework though.”

“Oh, please do not judge the homework.” Danny rubs a hand down his face just thinking of that - his homework- being his soulmate's first real impression of him. 

“Didn’t even look at that part. So, I’m assuming that you guys are coming to me?”

Danny shakes off the embarrassment “I think so?” 

“Of course we are!”,  “Was he not paying any attention as we decided who should go?”, “We were just planning.” There are so many people talking at once again.

 Danny pulls his face away from the phone and turns to the room at large “Stop it, buzz off!”. He turns to face a wall and takes a few steps away.  “They said yes.”

“Please tell me they’re not all planning on coming.”

Danny hums, focused on something else. “Look, I do need to warn you…” what if he goes ghost, can he go ghost with Jason in his body? What are his parents working on today? “ about a few things actually. Jazz, my sister, her room is across the hall and she’ll be able to help you if you. I sort of have… like a medical condition. I would rather explain that to you in person, but she’ll watch out for you if you go meet her.”

“I can do that. Anything I should look out for?” Weird ice mist coming out of your mouth would be pretty unexplainable at the moment, but random things shooting at him can be avoided!

“My parents leave all kinds of weapons around the house, and sometimes they’ll target me-you- at random, so try not to touch anything, and either stay upstairs or have my sister take you somewhere in town. Whatever you do, don’t go in the basement, the lab is down there.” Almost everything in that lab is to be avoided, although since he is already in Danny’s body he shouldn’t be bothered by the potential radiation.

“Kid, what?” 

“This is really an in-person talk.”

Danny does not know how he would explain this over the phone, with a room of eavesdroppers behind him. Although they’ve become respectfully quiet, more whispers than anything now. 

“Sure, okay. Find Jazz, preferably leave the house.”

“Yep!” That would be best, Jazz will definitely help him. “Is there anything I should know?”

“Shit, if I had time I would give you a warning about everyone in my family individually, but for now… I don’t know if this will translate over…” It will, but there’s really no way to explain that. “I have… I guess it’s sort of a health condition as well. My family knows what triggers it, and they should be on their best behavior right now anyways, but if you wouldn’t mind putting someone on the phone I can threaten them properly.”

Danny laughs and puts the phone on speaker before calling out to the room, “You’re on speaker!” so everyone in the room knows as well as Jason. 

“I swear to god if any of you scare him, hurt him, or anything I’m going to kill you. I know everything you love and if you don’t act normal, just know, it will be destroyed.”

“Yeah, yeah. Jay, this is your soulmate!” Dick has bounded back over to Danny, right up in the personal space. 

“Also, most of us love you so that threat doesn’t work as well as you think it does.” Steph yells from the table, where she continued eating at some point.

“Bitch, I died once, I’ll do it again. Don’t test me on this right now.”

Danny starts laughing so hard he doesn’t register everyone else in the room having frozen at the outburst.

“Oh, wow, same.” Danny gets out once he can breathe again.

The room is staring at him again, but they seem to do that a lot.

“You must be Jazz.” They hear coming through the phone. “I’m Jason.”

“Jazz!” Danny calls out. 

“Danny would like to talk to you.” There’s a small shuffle. 

“Danny?”

“Hey, Jazz! So, apparently I’m the younger, so today’s the day. I’m with his family right now.”

“You have a plan? Are you coming home?”

“Yeah, just. Would you mind keeping an eye on Jason until I get there? It’s going to be a long drive so could you make sure nothing shoots him and that he gets edible food?”

“I’ll take him to Nasty for dinner, don’t worry.” Danny sighs in relief, he knew Jazz would help, but he did not need his soulmate food fighting with dinner.

“Sounds good, he’s in my body so he shouldn’t really be poisoned but Mom and Dad still can’t really cook. Speaking of which! He is in my body so if anything happens with the, um, medical condition, help him through that as well.”

“Of course, Danny.”

“Thanks Jazz! We were just deciding who was coming along, but apparently, it's about a 12-hour drive? So, you guys won’t see us until tomorrow.”  There’s a lot unspoken in this conversation, but Danny knows she’ll do her best. “Try not to interrogate him, and no psychoanalyzing!”

[lcriedlastnight]

Enemies to lovers with Lando. Same group of friends. One day Lando accidentally texts the wrong number thinking it belongs to a girl that he met at the club the previous night but it actually belongs to reader. They continue texting agreeing to not disclose each others’ identity. Maybe a couple of months in the both fall in love with each other but both refuse to tell the other. At some point they go on vacation with their friend group somewhere at the beach in Italy and maybe during the second or third night they text each other and they realise they’re in at same location and they finally decide to meet up but as they are messaging each other one of their friends says something like “you’ve both been on your phones for so long. Are you texting each other?” And maybe that’s when Lando and reader realize they might be texting each other. And by the end of the night they finally confess their feelings

oh the details in this anon! i adore youuuuu. i actually hate how this turned out but oh well.

tw: fem!reader, stupid reader and lando, lmk if you want me to add anything!

w/c: 2.7k (oh god)

you and lando had the same friendgroup so you kind of have to be friends, for the sake of the others. it was not like you did not like him! it was just that you did not really know him. he never really made an effort with people in the friend group that he was not close with, meaning you and the people you were close with. it was a big friend group.

lando never really made an effort in any group plans at all actually, unless it was for one of his close friend's birthday, he was not coming. you knew he was busy with racing and stuff but when he was home he still did not really make an effort. so you were not friends but you were not really enemies either. he just seemed like the type of person you did not want to be friends with and he never even gave you the time of day anyway.

the whole group had planned a trip to italy during the summer break so that lando had no excuse not to attend but you would still be surprised if he did make it. he had a few months to pull out of it.

you and some of the girls had decided to go shopping for some clothes for your holiday, when an unknown number texts you.

unknown

hey, it's me from last night ;)

you smirk at your phone, it was clear that someone had gotten a fake number. you tell your friends and they laugh as you all sit in a cozy coffee house, taking a break from a hard day of shopping. you think about how to reply to number. you felt a little bad for the guy ("because let's be real, no man is giving a willing girl a fake number" you're friend had said. you rolled your eyes at that.)

you

hey 'me from last night' i think someone gave you the wrong number.

you send the text and slide your phone back into your pocket. this was something you could entertain tonight when you were in your bed, ready for work the next day. right now you were spending time with your friends.

the day seems to fly by as you all laugh and joke about the poor person who seemed to have gotten the wrong number. the girls make you promise, once you are all parting ways for the day, to keep them updated in our shared groupchat and you do promise them you will do just that when you get any updates.

you get yourself ready for bed, your mind whirling about what or who could be on the other end of your phone. your laying in your bed once your curiosity gets the best of you and you open up your messages again to see a waiting text message from that same unknown number.

unknown

ugh knew she was too good to be true

it makes you laugh a little, then you catch yourself. that was not even funny. at all.

you

sorry dude (assuming your a guy) she probably doesn't deserve you anyway she was not worth your time.

you type and retype again before you send it. you do not know why you were being so weird with this. you really needed to get a boyfriend. this was getting desperate at this point.

if you thought it was desperate texting this random guy at that point, then you should have seen yourself a month and a half down the line. you were so down bad for this man. you had never met him, you did not know his name or even what he looked like. all you knew is that he made you laugh and asked about your day. he even sent you your favourite chocolates and flowers when you had told him you had had a shitty day at work. you both had been texting back and forth non-stop, everyday at any chance you both could get. it did feel super weird that you did not even know his name but you did eventually get used to it. you did not want to ask him why he did not want to exchange names, you just went with it, desperate for some company.

he called you pretty baby or love in place of your name. the first one started as a joke but then he had found out you actually liked it. you called him bro. it made him laugh so that was good enough for you. you had told him pretty much everything about yourself, even things you had not told your close friends. you even told him about lando because of the one time lando was supposed to show to one of the last meetings before the holiday and he did not show up. your unknown friend agrees that he sounds a bit like a prick and it makes you happier that you were not the only one who thought that about the boy everyone else seemed to love.

in turn he told you a lot too but he seemed to be a lot more vague than you, which made sense you guessed. you were still a stranger to each other, even though to you he felt like a close friend. you maybe even fancied him a little bit too. that was a secret you did not tell your girlfriends. it stayed with you.

you tell him about your upcoming holiday with the dreaded driver to italy. he tells you that if you were comfortable then he would love to see some outfits you had been talking about wearing on the fortnight long trip. you do because it is literally impossible to say no to him. you make sure your face is not in the picture as you send it to him. you are so fucking nervous so you hide you facetime your friend and pack your suitcase, phone on 'do not disturb'.

bro :)

holy shit. you are so fucking pretty makes me want to see your face.

is what you are left staring at before you go to bed that night. it does take you at least ten minutes to even think of a coherent reply but once you do start to think clearly your words just seem too shy to send to him. it was times like this you longed to see his face or hear his voice. he was always so sweet to you, he called you pretty baby even though he had never seen your face before. in his own words "i can just tell you are a pretty girl". it made you melt every time.

the day of your holiday came pretty quickly. you had found out that your boy was also going on a trip for a fortnight too, which you had found pretty weird but shrugged off because what were the chances?

in the airport you had all gathered together once you were through security and almost ready to board the flight.

"heyyyy girl." ashley comes over to you with a tense smile on her face. you groan at her words, knowing you are not going to like what is coming next, that hey had far too many 'y's at the end for it to be anything positive.

"so we randomised who was sitting where and..." she trails off with a guilty look in her eyes. you look at her in a panic.

"no you're joking. please tell me you're joking?" you plead with her. she just shakes her head with this solemn look on her face which honestly made this whole thing worse.

"is there at least anyone next to us." her head shakes again and you want to cry. this was going to be the worst flight of your life. sitting next to some snobby, stuck up prick and a random stranger. you try to act unbothered in front of the rest of the group but there really is not any point because everyone knows how you feel about lando. they already know you are less than thrilled with the seating arrangements.

as you all board the plane you head towards your seat number with your carry on bag filled with all the essential things to keep you from going insane on board. your headphones, a book, some snacks and a bottle of water. let's just hope you do not lose your mind sitting next to lando.

there is already a stranger sitting on the aisle seat when you arrive at your designated seat and you hear lando's voice talking to his friend directly behind you so you know he is close.

once you have stowed your bag above your head you kindly ask the stranger if he could move so you could get to your seat, then remember lando would have to go first seeing as he was the window seat. you were so jealous of him.

"you're first in." you tell lando as you step to the side to let him in, he is typing away on his phone but he looks up from it and his words astound you. "nah you can sit at the window and i'll take the middle." you are shocked but in no way stupid so you jump at the chance. you would much rather just have to sit next to lando compared to lando and a random stranger. you both quickly settle in your new seats and buckle up. just as the flight crew are doing their demonstrations, you get a text from your boy.

bro :)

just about to take off love, just incase you thought i was ignoring you i'm not. don't know when your flight is but i hope you stay safe, i'll text you as soon as i have wifi again x

you flush at the pet name just like always and quickly type a reply before you turn your phone onto airplane mode.

you

you too! stay safe for me!

you have no clue if it sends because you are basically forced to turn your phone off. you put on your favourite reading playlist and open your book, ready to get soaked into some fictional girls love life. ready to long for it to be you.

the flight is actually much better than you had expected. lando keeps to himself and seemingly types on his phone the entire flight, which you did find weird but each to their own when you are all a flying metal can and at least he did not bother you. you all get off the plane and head towards baggage claim once you had all had your passports checked. as you are standing waiting for the carousel to start spinning around you feel your phone vibrate multiple times in your pocket. seems like you have internet again.

bro :)

i miss you

this flight without you is torture.

i don't think i can survive this long without you pretty baby :(

i hope you are having a better flight than me. my friends sat me next to this girl and all i can think about is you in that dress you sent me a few weeks ago. i made it my home screen so i can always look at you.

sorry for all the notifications ur gonna get once you get internet.

miss u

you feel your face heating up as you read and re-read the messages over and over again. he also must have landed for his message to even send. he must have had a short flight. you screenshot the messages too just so you never ever forget how cute he was. you will definitely need proof about the home screen thing. although you did not like the fact he was sitting next to some girl. you catch yourself because you have no right to feel jealous over him, you do not even know his name!

you

god you're clingy.

my flight was good. i finished my book!

also you are lying about the home screen.

he does not reply until you are already settled in the villa you had all rented and had ventured out into the city to find somewhere to eat. all of your friends were excited to try out the italian food culture, so basically everyone was eager to eat.

you eventually find somewhere that suits everyone. as you look around at the gorgeous restaurant you notice that lando is glued to his phone again. this man just had no manners at all, never mind table manners! it pissed you off but you were not going to say anything and cause a fight on the first night. you were here to enjoy yourself and you were not letting lando stop you from doing that. a few seconds later your phone goes off. you know it is from your boy because no one else really texts you anymore, much preferring phone calls.

bro :)

*attachment 1*

all he sends is a screenshot of his home screen and you have to hold back your gasp of surprise as you see the picture of you wearing that very same dress that was sitting in your suitcase as you speak. you send him back something sassy but it really melted your heart, like almost everything he sends you. even when he sends you stupid memes it makes your heart race because, he knows you well enough to know that you would find it funny and goes through the effort of screenshotting it and sending it to you. it really does warm your heart, even the thought of it is enough to do the trick.

a few days in and you were having an amazing time, it felt great to let loose with your friends and explore the lovely scenery in italy. you snapped some picture and reminded to yourself to send them to your boy once you were home. you guys did not talk as much as you usually did but you guys tried to talk as much as you could. one night you both made an amazing discovery.

you had sent him all the pictures you had taken that day with little captions explaining what you did and who the girls in the pictures were when he texts back a "shut the fuck up no way". you should be offended but you have no time because he quickly follows it up with. "i think we are both in the same place... i was just there today too!". you gasp and respond excited. you would not even know if you had seen each other because you had no clue what he looked or sounded like. the thought that you had both passed each other had made you long for him ten times more.

meanwhile, something your friends noticed is that when both of you were texting your friends, you were both on the phone at the same time. no one really says anything about it until ashley gets too drunk at dinner one night and says "you've both been on your phones for ages. are you texting each other?". and it clicks in your minds.

lando, the boy you despised for, basically forever, was your boy. this could not be happening. you both excuse yourselves to have a talk.

"oh my god." is all you can mutter.

"i'm the lando you hate?" is all lando can muster up to. he seems genuinely distraught at the thought of you not liking him. you groan lightly and cover your face with your hand.

"noo! i actually like you. it's hard not to." you mumble the last part of yourself but lando has come so close to you that he hears it loud and clear. he forces your hand away from your face so you can see the shit eating smile on his face. he says you name and you move your eyes his meet his.

he says nothing as he holds your hips tight as gives you the sweetest kiss you have ever had. it was quicker than either of you would have liked but that was only because lando knew all of your friends were watching on.

"i like you too. meet me in my room later?" he smiles cheeky. you would be a fool to pass up that offer.

[nadvs]

What if sleeping with the enemy rafe accidentally calls reader his gf but neither of them seem to mind 🤭

OBSESSED WITH THIS 🤭

based on this fic

rafe has had too much to drink. tonight’s game secured his team a position in the championship finals. they had to celebrate. one shot became two became however many it takes to make the room start spinning.

he’s sprawled out on the couch at a party at one of the student houses on campus. everyone’s loud and rowdy and excitable. he’s exhausted and sore after the game, but he’s just as wired.

at this point, he texts her anytime there’s a party because he likes her being around. she’s on the other side of the room with a couple of the friends she brought, laughing at how shit-faced rafe is.

“should you be here?” one of his teammates slurs with a drunk smile, approaching her and her friends.

“no,” she replies light-heartedly. they shouldn’t be at a party celebrating another team’s win, especially theirs, but she stopped caring about the rivalry a long time ago. “you’re the bad guys.”

“you’re the bad guys,” he responds, pointing at her, but he loses his balance and nearly stumbles on top of her.

rafe’s seeing stars but he’s conscious enough to realize his teammate almost just knocked her over. he stands and crosses the room, putting a heavy arm around her, shielding her from his friend.

“you tryin’ to tackle my girlfriend? the fuck’s wrong with you?” rafe drawls. his mind catches up with what he just said. he looks down at her. “i mean, uh… my…”

“you’re hammered,” she laughs. she doesn’t mind the slip-up. she knows they’re friends. but her mind has drifted to the possibility of being more a few times.

rafe falls into a fit of laughter, raking a hand through his hair.

“i’m hammered,” he echoes. “you see all those three-pointers i got tonight?”

“you’ve only mentioned it like a hundred times,” she says. really, she’s thrilled to see him so happy. he’s been working hard this season. he deserved the win. “let’s get you some water. follow me.”

when they reach the quiet kitchen tucked at the back of the house, rafe slouches over the counter as she fills a glass with water.

she watches him drink it, surprised at how far he’s come since they started hooking up. he was never the type to let people tell him what to do, but she just ordered him to follow her and he listened. she’s pretty sure that at this point, she’d tell him to jump and he’d ask how high.

at a party last weekend, he mentioned that she’s his best friend. she told him that he’s hers. but the term girlfriend sounded so good coming out of his mouth.

he drains the glass and then she turns to fill it again.

“i don’t need that much,” he complains.

“you need a lot to hydrate so you don’t feel like shit tomorrow,” she says. “you’re like ten feet tall.”

he laughs again.

“i don’t get hungover,” rafe says.

“that’s a lie,” she chuckles. she offers him the full glass, deciding to tease him. “you shouldn’t lie to your girlfriend.”

rafe rolls his eyes and swallows down the water, but her words sober him up a little bit. he lowers the glass, his lips gleaming with moisture. she stands in front of him, tempted to kiss him.

he stares down at her, gazing into her eyes, and the thought of her wanting some sort of commitment to him is oddly thrilling.

“you’re going to be so embarrassed that you said that,” she laughs.

“no, i’m not,” he says quickly. he may be drunk but that, he knows for sure.

tension sits between them. the reason their whole deal works is because they’re direct with each other. honest. it’s a knee-jerk reaction of his to tell her exactly what he’s thinking. but what he’s thinking right now could shift things. maybe even break them.

she’s frozen. they say drunk words are sober thoughts, so maybe rafe really does see her as his girlfriend. they definitely act like a couple at this point.

“what kind of boyfriend would you even be?” she eventually says. instead of laughing off the prospect of being in a relationship with anyone like he always does, he answers after he takes another sip of water.

“a good one,” he says. “i’m good at everything.“

“your humility is so inspiring,” she replies sarcastically.

their words sound like jokes, but the looks they’re sharing are utterly serious. it’s unusual not to be laughing together, chiding like friends. the air is heavy. awkward.

but it’s also incredibly natural.

“you sleeping over tonight?” rafe asks, eyes traveling over her face.

she’s only slept over a handful of times, when the sex was so tiring she couldn’t imagine making her way home. sleeping over feels coupley. but here he is, asking her to.

and she could make a joke about him just wanting a private nurse for his inevitable hangover in the morning. but it feels cruel to tease him when he’s being so vulnerable, looking at her like she might actually have the power to hurt him. to hurt someone so strong and loud and unpenetrable.

“yeah,” she replies simply.

rafe nods, unable to tear his eyes off of her.

“finish that,” she says, looking down at the half-full glass.

“i don’t have to listen to you,” rafe tells her. but he brings the glass back up to his lips, mirroring her smile.

he definitely doesn’t have to let her boss him around. but he’s going to, whether he wants to or not, because that’s the effect she has on him.

(the next morning)

[imababblekat]

Accidental Eavesdropping?

Anon request, "Hey!!! Love your blog and your writing style, it’s amazing and so detailed!!! Can I request Bayverse TMNT Spider-man Au, where the turtles and spider-y/n are in a battle with Bepop and rocksteady. And in the last moments of the battle, spider -y/n saves the turtles but gets unmasked in the process. (They live) If you don’t want to do that idea! You can either delete this OR A moment where the turtles start talking about y/n and they don’t even realize that they’re talking TO THEM!!! This was funny to me for some reason lol 😂"

A/N: Aw thank you, anon! ;v; I went with the second prompt, btw. Leans towards Raphael x reader, but it's mentioned/hinted that the other turts also got the feels for reader. Any who's, I hope you enjoy! <3

◌(s,p) = spider persona◌

~xXx~

You're swinging over traffic, indulging in a rather quiet night despite the sounds of honking vehicles and other night life, when a sudden warm fuzzy feeling beams from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. It's not your spidey sense per say, but something akin to it, all you know is that it's a good sense and you follow it with glee. It doesn't take long before the feeling is buzzing and you see the source of the feeling chilling atop a pizza parlor. Well, more like sources. You let out a small giggle, noticing that the four ninja turtle brothers seem to be in some sort of deep conversation or debate.

"Hey guy's, what's going on?!", you greeted, swinging in next to a steaming Raphael.

"Oh you know, just the daily sibling teasing while we wait for our pizza to be made.", Donnie shrugged, watching as you and Mikey did your secret handshake.

"Yeah? Let me guess. . ."

The eyes of your mask squinted as you pretended to skeptically look at all brothers before looking at the glaring gaze of Raphael next to you.

"Is Raphie suppressing his emotions again?", you chaffed.

Said turtle rolled his eyes, shifting his weight to one side as he growled.

"Great, just what I need. And don't call me that."

"Come on, I'm sure I can help! What's up this time big guy?"

Leo chuckled, gaining your attention while Raphael sent him a warning glare from behind you.

"Raph's got a crush on our friend."

At this your eyes widened, a small gasp escaping you as you looked between the two eldest brothers in excitement.

"No way! Who?!"

You're question went ignored as Raph threw his arms up, cheeks flushing a light hue of embarrassment.

"All I said was they smelled nice, and y'all chuckle heads suddenly think I've been struck by cupid or some mushy crap!"

"You complimented them, Raph.", came Leo's retort.

"I compliment people all the time!"

Everyone remained silent, giving the hot headed turtle deadpanned expressions.

"What? I do. Right (s,p)?", he asked turning to look down at you.

You merely shrugged.

"Sarcastically maybe."

Raph huffed, leaning back against the buildings ledge, you hoping up to sit next to him.

"So is anyone gonna tell me who this mysterious person is or nah? Come on people, I want the tea."

Mikey, idly spinning his nun-chucks, grinned widely.

"It's our friend, (y,n)!"

You sat rigid, mask eyes wide once more.

". . .Who now?"

"Oh you haven't met them.", Donnie waved off, checking his turtle made watch to see the remaining wait time on their order.

Raphael clicked his tongue, still slightly aggravated about his brothers earlier teasing. Meanwhile, you still sat frozen beside him, staring into the abyss with a racing heart.

"I still don't have a crush on them.", he muttered.

"You complimented them on their perfume!", Leo loudly pointed out once more.

"Why is that so weird?!"

The two started to banter once more, Mikey enjoying the show while Donnie threw in a few matter of facts to weigh in on Leo's side. You, however, felt never more thankful than in that moment that you wore a full face mask. If it wasn't for the coverage, surely the ninja brothers would see just how closely the color of your face matched Raphaels mask right now.

Raphael growled, fed up with his brothers ganging up on him and his definitely non-existent crush on you. If they were going to call him out, then he would do the same to them.

"Maybe you guys should get off my shell and jump on yours first! I ain't the only one whose been makin' googly eyes at (y,n)."

You just about fell off the side of the building, hands gripping the edge of where you sat, knuckles definitely white beneath your suit. What is happening right now, is all you could terrifyingly but blushingly think.

Leonardo and Donatello were quick to look anywhere but at Raph, trying their hardest to not blush themselves at their brother's call out.

"I seen the way you put on the macho charm, Leo, bowing extra deep and all your swooning romance book crap when they come over. And you, Donnie, sputtering and dropping shit when they try to help you with projects and their hand accidentally brushes against yours. And Mikey. . ."

All eyes focused in on the youngest of the bunch who sat ready and waiting to hear Raph's jest.

"Actually, Mikey you're not that surprising. You think anyone who gives you food is a gift from heaven."

"Hey, it's not my fault their cinnamon rolls are so good!.", Mikey pouted, bottom lip jutting out adorably.

Leonardo shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning towards you.

"What do you think, (s,p)? Are we over analyzing or are we right?"

The boys eagerly waited for your answer, for your input. Surely someone from the outside would be able to better determine the situation the brothers found themselves in. Well. . .should have been able to more like, as the response you gave was not what they were expecting.

A rushed, "Igotgo!!!", was all they got before watching you thwip away at the speed of light, leaving the turtles to look at each other confused and quizzically.

". . .Wait, so you guys don't have a crush on (y,n) too??", Mikey questioned with furrowed brows, innocently confused by how they could not.

Raphael groaned loudly as he and his brothers devilled into another childish debate on why they totally didn't have feelings for you, a familiar smell that had sparked the argument coincidentally wafting lightly into their senses upon the wind in the direction of which you swung off.

~xXx~

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

but i crumble completely when you cry . .

katsuki comforts you

katsuki bakugou hates a lot of things

he hates people who walk slow, he hates people who chew loudly or people who talk loud in places they know damn well they shouldn’t.

he hates when people walk on the back of his shoe and he hates idiots like kaminari who talk during movies.

but most of all, katsuki bakugou hates seeing you cry.

it sparks something in him, something red, hot and so angry when he finds you in your dorm. tears running down your cheeks that show no sign of stopping. he hates it even more when you make eye contact and you curl into yourself even more from where you’re sitting on the floor.

katsuki immediately decides this is the thing he hates the most.

he’s on you in seconds, kneeling in front of you, searching around to get a peek of your face hidden in your knees. he places his hands on top of yours where they’re wrapped around your legs and his chest tightens when you flinch a little.

“ who was it ? who did this to you ?” he can’t recognize his own voice, his words come out so fast he barely registers what he’s saying.

you try to speak but nothing but more broken sobs and shaky breaths come out as you desperately try to catch your breath and katsuki realizes that you talking isn’t a priority right now.

his eyebrows are furrowed and he almost looks angry but he’s so, so worried. if anything, he’s angry at himself for being so helpless, for not being able to help you in a time where you clearly need it.

he grabs your shoulder softly and the weight his chest lightens slightly when you lean a little closer to him, before letting him pull you tightly into his arms

“breathe for me.” he utters softly, voice gruff and gravelly. he never actually talks this softly unless he’s around you, the difference is so stark it surprises him a little bit but he’s got more important things to think about. praise spills from him occasionally, muttering a “you got it. i got you” into your ear before pressing a kiss to your temple.

katsuki’s never really had to comfort anyone, he’s never felt the need to, but you’re not just anyone. your different, you’re his. his love his everything and he’ll be damned if he didn’t try his hardest for you.

you’ve calmed down a little bit, he noticed. you’re breathings calmed down a little and your sobs have been reduced to snivels. the tightness in his lungs is still there, but it’s less now.

“what’s goin’ on with you, hm ?” you’re grip tightens on his arm and you shove your head deeper into his chest. he moves his head away from your shoulder so he can place two small kisses on the top of your head

“talk to me, baby. needa know what’s up with you.” he pleads into the crown of your head. you sigh before speaking up.

“ i don’t know what’s up with me i just- it’s nothing bad i’m—” you’re desperately searching for the right words to use so what you’re about to say makes sense. “i just don’t—feel like myself today. i don’t know why, i just feel really bad today.” you let out a humorless chuckle and your voice dies out when you finish “m’sorry if i worried you” you sniffle.

he shushes you, his grip on you tightens when he hears you whimper “don’t..don’t fuckin’ apologize to me, got no reason to.” he spits. he sounds angry, and he is, why should you ever feel the need to apologize for feeling some type of way around him ?

“s’okay for you to feel that way..i do too, sometimes, you know ?” he knows you do. he knows you do because there are times where he comes to your room in tears, shaking and panicked. completely and utterly lost from the nightmares that had plagued him minutes before but knowing he had to come see you. you were there for him every time, gently soothing him and assuring him that he’d be okay. he owed it to you to do the same for you.

“s’okay to feel like shit sometimes, happens to the best of us.” he whispers “ but you can always come to me when you do, can deal with it together. an’ don’t go thinkin’ yer ‘bothering’ me either.” he says, parroting what you had just told him. “we’re together for a reason, dummy.” he’s soft spoken and his voice is so mellow despite his harsh little nickname for you, you could’ve missed it if he wasn’t sitting so close to you, it makes you a little dizzy and a little weaker in you’re already mushy knees.

he grabs your shoulders gently to get your eyes on him. they’re still a little glossy but they’re a little less dull when he looks at you “ we’re in this together, always have been, always will be, got it ? “ he asserts, waiting for your response. and then you smile at him, it’s faint but it’s there and katsuki feels like he can breathe again. he smiles back softly at you when you respond with a soft “okay.”

you suddenly grab onto him and pull him into you tightly, locking him in a tight embrace and squeezing like you’re pressing a lemon. it throws him off for a second before he’s squeezing you just as hard, pressing your body against his.

“thank you, katsuki. you’re the best” you hum. he presses a long lingering kiss to your temple as response, before squeezing around your waist “ course i am.” he gloats. the smirk on his lips grows when you snort in response “what’re you laughing about, hah? don’t think so? don’t think i’m the best ?” he jests, using this as an opportunity to tickle you mercilessly. you kick and squirm but it’s no use, katsuki doesn’t stop until you’re a heaving , giggling mess. tears in your eyes as you plead and beg for him to stop but he doesn’t let up even when you’re laying on the ground with him on top of you.

“ i ain’t hearing what i wanna hear, you know what i want from you, baby.” he chuckles at the way you desperately gasp for breath, choking on your own spit in the process.

“y-you’re the ! the best, ‘suki ! the b-bestest of the best !” you gasp out, pushing blindly at his face to get him away from you and he finally let’s you go. “felt nice enough to let you off with a warning, won’t end well for ya if you try me again.” is what he says, playfully warning you and waving his finger around in your face. you’re completely out of breath, there are tears in your eyes again but they’re happy tears this time and you still can’t stop smiling and giggling as you try to bite at his finger and katsuki is more than happy with this.

because katsuki’s favorite thing is your smile.

[makethemhoesmad]

shit you sippin

this took days off of my life to write but at least it’s over 1k words(for the first time ever)

@bueckersstrap was the chosen one

—

some people go to the club for fun. some people go to the club for sex. i needed to forget. get so drunk i didn’t have to think about my piece of shit ex boyfriend and the bitch i walked in on him fucking. i don’t know how many i’d had at this point, but i did know that i was grasped by the hips by an attractive blonde that i thought i knew but couldn’t figure out from where.

“you here for any reason tonight,” she shouts over the music.

“y-yeah i walked in on my boyfriend fucking some other girl,” i say. i try to keep the tremor out

of my voice, staying cool and collected, for the most part. i cock my at her, grinning. she takes my chin into her palm and tilts it up, making me look right into her eyes. my god, her eyes are driving me wild.

“you into girls, baby?”

i shudder at the nickname. collecting myself, i run a finger down her arm while stating, “never thought about it till now, but i just might be.”

“cmon,” she says, tugging my arm. “i’m taking you home with me, baby that alright with you?”

i stare in shock, nodding open-mouthed. she must’ve drank much less than i had, because she leads me out to what i can only guess to be her own car, and after opening the passenger door and helping me inside, she seems to be clear-headed enough to drive.

as she pulls out of the parking lot, i look over and realize who’s car i’m in, and why i recognized her face.

“wait! you’re paige bueckers,” i say, my words slurring together slightly.

“that’s right, baby. basketball fan?” 

i almost can’t answer her, all my remaining focus zoned in on her hand that is now resting on my thigh.

“mhmm,” i mumble. she rubs her thumb in slow circles on the inside of my leg. i let my head thump back against the car seat and close my eyes, only to open them a moment later when the car stops.

paige rushes out of her door to open mine, and i nearly fall flat on the ground when i climb out of the car. she pulls me into her, wrapping an arm around my waist to steady me. i zone out at the action, then trip over a doorframe and realize i’m in her bedroom.

“hey, baby, listen,” she says, sitting me on the bed and rummaging in her closet for something

“you’re, like, really drunk right now, but i really don’t wanna kick you out because i like you. so how ‘bout you put this t-shirt on and we talk about it in the morning?”

i nod, then reach back to try and unzip my dress. i can’t do it. could barely zip it up sober, so there’s no chance i can undo it in my inebriated state. i look up at paige with a pout, hoping that she’ll take pity on me. 

she unzips the dress, then helps me put on the t-shirt she gave me. she sheds her shorts and top, leaving her clad in only a bra and boxers. 

“god, fucking athletes,” i mutter, shamelessly raking my eyes down her body.

“what was that,” she asks, smirking. i turn red and she pulls me onto the bed with her, tucking us both under the covers. i curl my body into her, hiding my face in her chest.

“ ‘s nothing,” i say, the words muffled. she strokes a hand down my back and i whine gratefully, falling asleep almost instantly.

~

i wake up confused, sore, and with a boiling headache. i try to roll over, but find that i’m pinned under someone that, instead of smelling of beer and cheap cologne, smells like mint and aloe. shockingly, despite my headache i have a fairly decent recollection of last night’s events. as i’m realizing this, a few things happen. first, i realize exactly who’s bed i’m in and immediately try to free myself from her grasp out of pure embarrassment. second, the strong arms grasping me pull me down closer into the person they’re attached to. finally, said person nuzzles her nose into my neck, and says,

“how are you even prettier now?”

i push my face into the mattress

“ugh, liar. my fucking head, it hurts so bad. like, so, so bad,” i complain. she tries and fails to stifle her laugh.

“hey ma, i’m not sure if you’ve heard this, but i’ve been told head fixes headaches?” i blush, then realize she isn’t kidding when she pulls the covers off of us. she nestles her face in between my thighs, lifting her chin up to yank my panties down. 

“you okay, baby,” she questions, waiting for approval. i nod weakly, and she dives in, licking a stripe against my pussy.

“oh fuck,” i moan, my fingers curling around the bedsheets. she flicks her tongue at my entrance, causing my eyes to roll back. when she takes my clit into her lips, it’s all i can do to not release right then and there. 

“so good, so perfect,” she breathes while laying sloppy open mouthed kisses on my cunt. i fight to stay alert, but every bone in me wants to sink into oblivion, and when her moan vibrates my core, i do just that. i climax on her tongue, with her name on my lips, and if you had asked me my own damn name in that moment, i probably wouldn’t have been able to tell you. 

“how’s that head feeling, ma?” she asks. i look at her in dead shock.

“fucking gone, babe, how can i get you back? i’ve never, like, done it with girls before.”

she grins wickedly. 

“oh, baby i’ve got an idea.”

~

paige’s idea, it turns out, resulted in us not leaving her bedroom until 2 in the afternoon. when i finally checked my phone, i discovered not one, not two, but three missed calls from my now-ex boyfriend, and about a million texts telling me how sorry he was. i show paige, and she just about growls in frustration.

“lemme call him back,” she protests. i shake my head, turning to face her and letting her capture my lips into a kiss.

“pleease,” she whines against my lips. 

“fine.”

she opens my phone and pulls up the contact now only labeled with a gravestone emoji, and clicks the facetime. he answers almost immediately, to paige showing off our current position on her couch, under a blanket with me tucked into her side.

“stop textin her, bro. she’s mine now.”

he shouts profanities through the phone, but is aggressively cut off by paige kissing the top

of my head and saying, loud enough for him to hear, “it’s okay baby, now you can be with someone that can actually make you cum.”

he doesn’t like that, but i couldn’t care less.