#but when a show is so promising and then ends up so bad that i dont ecen want to try and analyze it further bc it just made me

[somanyideassolittletime]

To be loved is to be changed.

Pairings: Jack Abbot x Fem!Reader

Summary : 3 ways you changed Jack, and one time Jack changed you.

Warnings: fluff, Jack is in love with his wife, language, grammar inaccuracies (maybe? idk), so much fluff I felt giddy writing this.

Author's note: I love Jack so much, enjoy!

| one

Jack, albeit all of his typical stereotypes people use to box him into, is secretly tech-savvy. It comes with the job, he supposed. Working in a field where technology is always evolving, he learnt to adapt, and he learnt to love it. It started with geeking out when the newest, most updated machine was delivered to the hospital, up to buying himself handheld medical pieces of equipment delivered to your door – he would wait for you at home before unboxing the most recent ‘toys’ he ordered, and he would talk your ears off about how cool and innovative it is. 

You loved it, you loved hearing him talk passionately, you love that even after all this time working in his job, he still finds wonders in it (it doesn’t help that he looked so hot with his forearms flexed, knife in hand, while opening the package).

He understands technology, he does. But he doesn’t get the idea of FaceTime. He wasn’t a big texter himself; nothing beats the good old phone calls, where you can get your point across without fear of miscommunication on both sides. Even when you dated, you never went as far as FaceTime; it was always a phone call with a promise of meeting each other, and now that you are married, sharing his home, he still doesn’t get it.

“Why do you even need to look at their faces when you call? What matters is what you say, y’know, besides, it’s awkward to call someone with your phone far away from your ears,” He once said while holding you tightly in his side, cuddling in his far too comfy leather couch. Both of you watching a movie, where the scene of people facetiming each other just finished. You laughed at him back then, nudging his sides, “Eh, don’t knock it till you try it, hon.” 

What a turn of events now for him, as you were called away across the country for a few guest lectures and seminars for two weeks. Away from Pittsburgh, away from him – that he finds himself thankful for whoever invented the damned thing. He’s sitting on his bed, currently deprived of your presence beside him, when he decides to try out FaceTime. 

 “Hi, handsome,” you pick up on the first ring, he’s greeted with the face he’s been missing for the past few days, smiling at him. He sighs in contentment, he finally gets to see your face. “Hi, sweetheart.” 

He can hear you rustling around, looking for something to prop up your phone before you settle on your water bottle. Your screen is now steady. You grin at him, “Finally getting the whole FaceTime thing now, huh?” 

He huffs, “Don’t wanna get used to it, i’d rather have you here.” he starts, “But yeah, thank god shit’s exist. Been so long since I've seen that face.” 

“I’ve been here four days and you turned grumpy, huh?” You tell him, referring to the text Dana sent you earlier, “Your husband is Mr. Grumpy. Med students scared to approach him all day” 

“What do you mean?” You’re still grinning at him, you’re afraid your cheeks might be too sore to talk to the faculty tomorrow. “Dana texted me, said you were being bad teacher.” 

He groaned, “I’m annoyed at everything, it seems.” he mumbles just loud enough for you to hear him on the other end. He’s holding the phone a little too close to his eyes, he squints to look at you. You noticed it, “Wear your glasses, hon.” He hates wearing his glasses, which you know, but he’s squinting so hard you’re afraid he’s gonna get a headache later on. He’s contemplating debating you, but he knows that you’re right; he’s getting too old to see something so close to his eyes now. 

“Ugh, fine. Wait,” he puts his phone in the bed, now his screen is showing the ceiling of the bedroom you share back home. A few rustling and groans later, you find yourself looking at Jack wearing his glasses. Your breath hitched. The sight of him in his glasses always gets to you, even after all this time. “Looking good, Dr. Abbot,” you joke. He smiles, “You’re Dr. Abbot yourself.” You frowned mockingly. “I was looking at my reflection, y’know.” 

He laughs, and your heart aches to be with him. You missed him as bad as he missed you, it seems. You lift your phone, standing up now, he’s curious, “What are you doing?” You reverse the camera now, showing your room. “I’m doing a room tour. Now shut up and listen to me yap.” 

He gladly obeys, he loves listening to your voice, he watches as you explain everything in your room, from the bathroom, the wardrobe, the bed, all the way to the balcony. His eyes caught something when your camera points at your desk, a familiar bottle of cologne – one he’s been wearing for ten years – so he decides to jab at you. “Is that why I can’t find my cologne in my bag?” You turn the camera facing you, and he’s glad now that he can see your face again. “I miss you. Sue me.” You stick your tongue out at him. How he wishes to wipe that shit eating grin from your face. 

“I’m suing you for that with a lifetime with me,” he says earnestly. You look at him fondly, “Jack Abbot, I didn’t know you get sappier the further we departed.” He puts his phone on the nightstand, angled so that you can still see his face, pulling the comforter up to his chin. 

“I miss you so much, baby,” you blegh at the nickname, phone now back at your desk, “You sounded like a teenager,” he chuckles, he looks at you putting on your glasses, the light from the laptop reflecting in your eyes. “Talk to me,” you say.

So he did, he tells you about the shift he’s had today while you’re typing away at your laptop, looking at him every once in a while. He tells you about the boy who went berserk, hands flailing around, making Langdon drop the scalpel in his hand, dropping it to his prosthetic feet, panicking the entire trauma room, only for him to be unfazed. You laugh fondly at him, eyes twinkling with the same mesmerization you only hold for him (and for a crazy innovation that you find interesting). 

He’s holding his yawn, but you know better. His eyes are glassy now. “Go to sleep. It’s late,” you say, he obeys you, taking off his glasses, relaxing into his pillow. “Don’t turn it off,” he says softly, eyes fluttering. You shake your head, “I’ll turn it off when you snore,” he huffs, “what? You snore.” you start, “But I need to hear you snore to sleep nowadays.” you explain. 

His eyes are half-closed now, and he finds himself relaxed, hearing your breaths on the other side, keys clacking softly. “I love you,” he whispers to you. You stopped your typing, now looking at his eyes fully closed, “I love you too, goodnight, hon.” 

For the next 7 days, he finds himself loving FaceTime, finds himself looking forward to FaceTime with you every night before he sleeps, and like other technology he once frowned at, he finally gets it. 

| two

Jack is not a man of pop culture, he never understands the appeal of it. He rarely watches movies by himself, let alone pop culture movies or series. But you loved it to no end, you often ask him to watch those movies with you, ranging from sci-fi, fantasy, to superhero movies, whatever you want to watch, he’ll gladly oblige. He’ll pretend to be uninterested in your series whenever you watch it alone with him moving around the house. But you always find him standing behind the couch, watching the show intently, before finding him beside you, starting to give commentary on what's happening on the screen. And slowly, he finds himself enjoying watching those movies and series with you. 

He loves watching you explain to him about the complexity of a character you like, loves hearing you badmouth a character you hate, and when you both find yourself watching sci-fi movies with futuristic technologies, he finds himself falling a little harder, hearing you explain to him the concept of the technology in said movies. “I don’t understand a single word you just said. Is this what you feel when I explain procedures to you?” he once asked you. You nodded, “Yeah, pretty much, but you’re hot when you’re explaining it. So I love it,” you said to him. And he agreed with you on that one. 

Jack was covering the night shift tonight, it’s Halloween night, so he’ll find himself drowning in patients in costumes, no doubt. You had dropped him off earlier with a kiss on his cheek and a promise to pick him up later in the morning.  

He’s talking to a ten-year-old kid in a yellow uniform, one he recognized as a Star Trek uniform when Ellis enters the room, “I got this, Abbot. You go ahead,” she says to Jack. Jack nods at her before saying, “You’re in good hands, kiddo.” Ellis looks at the boy in the bed, saying, “Well, what do we got here, Mr.Spock?” The kid was about to protest when Jack reactively says, “He’s Captain Kirk,” Earning a look from Ellis. He fistbumps the kid and leaves the room, fully trusting Ellis. 

The rest of the shift is pretty slow, filled with kids getting food poisoning from the candy being given away, typical drunks, and some OD patients from parties. It was now one hour left in the shift, everyone was either hanging by the hub or just doing a frequent check for their patients. He was charting when Shen and Ellis approached him.

“Hey, Abbot. How’s the stormtrooper guy?” Shen asks him. He’s currently scanning through his memory, not finding a single stormtrooper costume in his recollection of the night. “We haven’t got a stormtrooper,” He frowns at Shen. Shen points his fingers over Jack’s shoulder, he turns his head – now looking at a man in a Mandalorian get-up, his helmet on the chair beside the bed – he turns back to Shen, “That’s a fucking Mandalorian, good to go in a few hour, ” Shen doesn’t say anything, opting to look at Ellis beside him. Who, for the second time that night, gave him a weird look. He’s been doing medical procedures that might be crazy ballsy for some, but never once he received that look from either Ellis or Shen until tonight. 

“Okay, you know what, what the hell?” Ellis starts, “You corrected me earlier cause of a fuckin costume, and now, what the hell, man?” Jack shrugs, “What?” Shen points his finger at Jack, his voice accusatory, “Dude, you only ever turn your TV on for penguins games, now you tellin me you know fuckin sci-fi shit, now.?” Jack looks at him, “Wrong, I turn on my TV for the Steelers and Pirates too,” he says casually. 

“Ugh, you know what we meant. Since when do you even watch that stuff?” Ellis says exasperatedly. Jack crossed his arms, shrugging, “My wife likes that stuff.” He says that so casually that Shen and Ellis might combust at his tone. 

Shen laughs at him, “Holy shit, you’re whipped.” Jack smirks, “Yeah, I wouldn’t get married if I weren’t.” his hands find the ring in his necklace now. Fully smiling at Shen and Ellis, both of whom groan at him. “Ughhh, please be a simp somewhere else, not here.” Shen rolls his eyes. 

Shen and Ellis walked away from him before he muttered, “God forbid a man is in love,” smiling to himself with the thought of you in his mind. 

So slowly but surely, he understands the appeal now that he can see how your eyes lit up every time he referenced something. And like any other form of entertainment, he once cringed at, he finds himself enjoying and looking forward to the next time he has you curled up beside him, whispering theories he doesn’t get. Anything that makes you happy, it seems, makes him happy. 

| three

Jack is a man of many talents, but not of many coffee orders. He takes his coffee as plain as possible. Black, no sugar. He never ordered his coffee sweet, not before he met you at least. For him, coffee should be something simple, he doesn’t need extra flavor in his coffee, he just needs it to fuel him through the day. 

But you? You take your coffee as abstractly as possible. Though you do enjoy a plain black coffee once in a while, once the occasion calls for it, you actually prefer some flavor and sweetness in your coffee. 

“black , no sugar, please. What about you hon,” he asked you, ordering for himself to barista; he never ordered for you since he knew he would botch the task. “Uh, let me think. I ordered the almond latte yesterday. I think I’ll go with hazelnut today, please. Thank you,” you answered to the barista, who punched in some buttons. Jack tapped his card to pay before moving over to wait for your order. 

“Here, try this. You’ll like it.” you said to him. He shakes his head, refusing to take a sip. “Just try it, I swear” he takes the coffee in his hand, sipping on it. Fuck. that’s good. He thought. He bites the inside of his cheek to hold back a smile, not wanting to give you the victory. You pointed at him victoriously, “aha! You like it don’t you.” he shrugged, giving you back your coffee. “Eh, black’s still better.” though you know that he actually enjoys it. 

But now that it’s been a while since the two of you went on cafe dates, he finds himself missing your random coffee order. So when the opportunity comes for him to drink your coffee order, he’ll take it. 

“Hey, I’m ordering coffee, your usual?” Robby asks him, typing in his notes app to list everyone’s coffee order. Jack thinks for a second before answering him, “I’ll have a vanilla latte,” earning a raised eyebrow from Robby, who types it down without question before moving over to the others. Making a mental note to ask him later on. 

It was a while later when the order came in, and everyone stopped by the break room to take their coffee. Jack is greeted by Langdon and Robby inside, both holding their coffee. Langdon doesn’t even think before handing him a black coffee, one that Jack doesn’t take. “It’s not mine,” he says, walking over to the table, reading the labels in each cup before settling on his order. 

He holds it in a way that the label is visible to Langdon, who looks at him weirdly, “a Latte? Really? Vanilla latte?” Langdon asks him. Jack sips on his coffee before entertaining Langdon, “What? It’s good,” he answers. Langdon, who looks at Robby as if saying, dude, you seeing what I’m seeing???. Robby teases him, “Yeah, I don’t think that cuts it, brother.” 

Jack huffs, sipping some more, “Fine. My wife takes her coffee like this.” he wants to look annoyed, but he can’t bear himself to do it; not when he just drank your coffee order, being reminded of you seems to have that effect on him. 

“I’m a married man myself, but I never even order my coffee her way, man.” Langdon laughs at him. Robby smiles at him, putting his hand on Langdon’s shoulder, slightly leaning toward him. “I believe we are seeing Jack in love. What is it? To be loved is to be changed?” says Robby to Langdon’s who laughed at Jack. 

Jack wants to retort something smart as usual, but somehow, he doesn’t want to. So he opted to just smile at both of them before taking his coffee outside the break room. 

Because yeah, he might realize himself that his preference is changing, but what Robby said earlier was right, that he’s in love and that he’s loved – and he wouldn’t change that for the world. 

But the next time the two of you went on your cafe dates, he would still order his usual, not because he wanted it, he ordered it because for him, nothing beats the mischievous smile you gave him after asking him to try your coffee. (and it doesn’t help that he liked seeing your lip product mark on his cup after you drink his coffee, and that both of you just did an indirect kiss) Though that was a thought he’ll keep to himself forever. 

+1

“How do I look?” you walk into the living room, twirling your body to Jack, who is sitting on the leather couch, now looking at you. You were sporting a Penguins jersey with a big 87 on the back, CROSBY above it. You were offered a sideline ticket to the Penguins game by your friend, which you excitedly accepted. So here you are, getting ready for the game with the Penguins heartbreaker’s Jersey on you. 

Jack smiles at you. “Well, you look like you’re drowning in it, Mrs. Crosby,” he says coyly. You frown at him, walking over to him, “Jack, as much as I love Sid, I actually prefer being Mrs. Abbot,” you say to him, leaning down to give his lips a peck.

Jack puts his hand on your waist, capturing your lips on his. Pulling back, Jack let out a breathy chuckle, “Yeah? Say that after you see him, hon. You know I’m straight, but he’s hot as hell,” he jested. You laugh at his confession, about to say something when you hear a honk in the driveway. Jack walks you over to the door, opening it for you.

Jack pecks your lips once again before saying, “Stay safe, okay? I love you.” You smile, kissing his cheek, “I will. Love you too.”

It’s almost midnight when you come home, and the Penguins won, so it was a victorious night out in your books. You open the door slowly, not wanting to disturb Jack, who should be sleeping by now. You can hear the TV still turned on in the living room, so you decide to check it out.  

Jack was sprawled over the couch, the light from the TV illuminating his figure, his prosthetic placed by the table, as much as you want to move him to the bed because you know that his back would scream at him tomorrow if he spends as much as an extra hour on the couch, he looked so cozy you can’t help yourself, so you lay down on the couch, joining him. 

Your movement startles him at first, but upon seeing that it’s you, he relaxes, “Hey,” he whispers into your ear. “It was fun, wished it was with you though,” you confess to him. His arms now caging you, drawing soft circles on your back. It was quiet before you started.

“Jack,” you whisper softly, he hums, acknowledging you. You continue, “I think you broke me.” Jack stops his hand, pulling his head just enough to look you in the eyes. “What do you mean?” you snuggle further into his chest before saying, “I don’t find Sid attractive anymore.” 

“Huh?” Jack asks, You sit up, placing your hand on his stomach. “Imagine, I was that close with him, I could practically see his pores, Jack.-” You put your hand in front of you, in an attempt to emphasize just how close you are to The Sidney Crosby earlier. “But all I can think about is eh, he’s okay. Jack’s way more attractive.” Jack’s entire body warms at hearing your confession. 

He’s about to comment before you put your hand that was previously on his stomach to his mouth, not allowing him to speak, “No, you don’t get it. It's THE SIDNEY CROSBY, Jack. You know how much I love him, right?” he nods against your hand, now smiling as wide as ever. You lift your hand from his mouth, continuing your explanation. “I was supposed to be entranced by him, Jack. But I kept on thinking that he had nothing against you.” 

“You’re putting me on a damn high pedestal now, hon,” he says jokingly, though his eyes shows nothing but adoration looking at you. 

You lie back on the couch again, cuddling him. “Nah. I think I just love you too much that I find any other guy to just be….mid.” 

He chuckles, resuming his hand motion on your back. “I love you too, so much.” You don’t say anything after that, you're both snuggling, the TV playing softly as background noise – the intimacy of this moment has nothing against anything else. 

You both stayed that way for a while until you mentioned to him that you needed to move before you both fell asleep on the couch, so you walked over to the bedroom, Jack behind you, searching for the remote to turn it off, seeing the highlight of the day on the screen, with crosby’s goal earlier. He smirks proudly at the TV, remembering your earlier admission. 

Sid 0 - 1 Jack. 

[bratbarzal]

How do you think Poppy and Luke's gf get along/hit it off when they first meet? Like what are the vibes, is it at a game? I'm assuming it would be after Cheeto is born?

written as a follow up to LIH and TSOU and including characters from OYS (none of which have to be read to enjoy this hopefully lmao) this is such a niche blurb but it's really sweet!! trust Luke to mess up the ending of tsou by getting surgery 😔😔 no more reader jumping into his arms 😔😔 let's pretend he catches her on one side so I don't have to think too much about it thanks 💕 also this ties into another blurb I have planned for their first date lmao but that will hopefully be done by the end of the month!! contains: fluff!!! in abundance!!! wc: 2.8k

"You know you're gonna have to let me get up at some point, right?"

You feel the vibrations of his words against your cheek before you fully register what Luke is saying, his neck warm against your temple as you rest against it, your body slung over his just enough that you're not crushing him.

"Don't have to do anything," you hum in defiance, lips moving against his skin as you hook your leg over his from above the sheets so he has no actual leverage to move away - like he would in the first place - and stretching your arm across the width of him, your fingertips tracing featherlight touches along his collarbone - careful to avoid his bad shoulder - until the arm on the side you're resting on curls as much as it can around your hip. "You're not the boss of me."

He snorts out a laugh that makes your chest feel tight, and you suppose he sees the irony in that statement just as much as you do - considering how you'd only just promised him when you'd both set off from Detroit yesterday that you'd be happy to play nurse for as long as he needs.

For as shitty as the timing of Luke's injury has been - missing out on the rest of the playoffs, and subsequently ruling himself out to play in the world championships - you've been reaping the benefits of the whole thing, entirely.

He'd somehow managed to schedule his surgery so that he could surprise you at your commencement - lying that he hadn't been fit to be discharged yet and showing up alongside Jack as you waited with Ellie for her to be able to see her boyfriend while you worried endlessly about your own.

And the two of you had disappeared together after the ceremony, spending the whole weekend holed up in your room at the sorority before you would have to clear it out. He had attempted to help you pack up the few things that remained, and had come with you to move what you couldn't ship home to your mom's place into storage with the promise that he'd help you sort through it when you came back in the summer to the lake house.

He hadn't been the best assistant, his arm all slinged up, and all, but you still liked having him around - even if it was just to be a pretty face and a warm body to cuddle into at the end of the day, too exhausted to do much else.

And then you flew out to Jersey with him to clear out his locker at the Rock away from the whole media circus, spending the week in his apartment with him while he dealt with some other business. It had never been the plan to come out here - but you wouldn't trade this time with him for anything.

The latter end of the season had been hectic for Luke, and you wrapping up with school had been just as bad - and finding time to fit in the tribulations of a new, long distance relationship was hard work, but the two of you got through everything, the worst of it behind you entirely.

And you've been enjoying playing house with him, away from everybody else - it's the first time you've really gotten the chance.

Ellie and Jack are back in Michigan, and Quinn left to go back at the same time Jack did. His parents are there, too - and your mom is where she always is, back in Chicago.

No sorority sisters, none of Luke's friends or his teammates, who have all dispersed back to their home states or countries.

It's just the two of you, and no responsibilities, and it's been incredible, even if it has only been a day, so far.

"We should probably get up and do something," he hums, "Feel like all I've done for the past week is sit around and watch you."

"Like that isn't your favourite thing to do," you scoff, leaning up and pressing your lips to his jaw, planting a soft kiss to the scratchy skin there and making a mental note to convince him to shave, later - maybe even offer to do it for him. Clinging on to the 6 hairs that remain from his attempt at a playoff beard is getting a little sad, unfortunately.

"You got me there," he smiles softly, and you kiss the curve of his lips, too, too pretty not to. "We could go watch a movie?" he mumbles against you, "Maybe grab food after,"

"Mmhm," you respond, too into kissing him over and over, the soft bump of his nose against yours the only thing to get you to part.

"There's a viewing for Thunderbolts in like an hour," he tells you, and you roll your eyes while biting back a laugh.

"I was ten seconds from climbing on top of you, and the only thing on your mind is showing times for Thunderbolts?"

"I can only avoid spoilers for so long, babe." He pouts, and you huff as you roll off of him.

"Such a dork," you mutter fondly to yourself as you push yourself off of the bed and watch his eyes trail down your figure as you stand. "I need to go get my bag out of the car," you tell him as you reach for the hoodie you had helped him shrug out of last night, and the shorts he'd fumbled you out of with just one hand. "Do you want me to make you something to eat when I come back up?"

"I doubt Jack left anything in the refrigerator while he was here," he grumbles, eyes still on you as you bring his hoodie down over your body and jump into your shorts, "I'll shower while you're downstairs and try get ready quick enough that we can stop for breakfast, yeah?"

"Okay," you lean back over to kiss him, "Please be careful in there, I don't want a lecture off of your brother for not taking care of your properly."

"Damn," he smirks, "I was gonna try and fake another injury so that you'd have to jump in with me to supervise next time."

"You just have to ask, idiot, don't hurt yourself on my account."

You part with one more kiss before you're making your way through his apartment, picking up your shoes on the way and grabbing his keys from where he'd left them on the hook by the door.

The two of you had been in such a rush to get up to the apartment the night before that you'd left your bags in the trunk of his car - the car he'd actually let you drive from the airport, despite the fact he'd once told you that you drive like a maniac and he'd never trust you behind the wheel again - and you're grateful that Luke didn't bring a bag himself or you'd have to haul them up on your own.

Getting your bag from the car back to the elevator is hard enough work - overpacking to the point of ruin, as always - and when you're finally inside and stretching out the muscles in your back, you hear the faint call of, hold the door, from around the corner.

Your hand shoots out before the doors can close, palm pressed to where they disappear, and then you're face to face with another girl - hair astray, chest heaving to try and gain her breath back, and the cutest baby you've ever seen attached at her hip.

"You're a lifesaver," she huffs as she steps in, leaning back against the far wall of the elevator as the doors start to close again, "I mean these things are quick, but if I don't get a snack in her hands in the next two minutes, this whole building is gonna know about it."

You chuckle, slightly tranced by the way the baby girl is staring at you - brown eyes wide and soft pink lips turned up in what you hope is a smile.

You reach into the front pocket of Luke's hoodie, and of course there's a pack of cookies in there, unopened from your flight yesterday. "Here," you smile, reaching out to the girl in front of you with them in your hand. "They're oatmeal cookies, I'm pretty sure. My boyfriend can't go anywhere without a snack either, but he's a grown man," you scoff, "Nowhere near as cute."

"You really are a lifesaver," she accepts the packet with a grateful smile, tearing them open, breaking one in half and handing it straight to the little girl, who brings them up to her mouth with zero hesitation. "I'm Poppy," her hand extends back out to yours, "And this is Lina."

You tell her your name while you shake her hand, and there's a flash of recognition as you say it, her eyes darting past you to check the buttons on the wall of the elevator.

"You're Luke's girlfriend!"

"How did you know that?"

"My partner is one of Luke's teammates, Nico." She smiles, "You made Mitchie!"

"Mitchie?" You frown, and she twists her hip until the diaper bag slung across her body comes into view, a familiar crochet giraffe slotted into the side pocket.

"We don't go anywhere without Mitchie."

A slow grin creeps onto your face as you look back at the baby clinging onto Poppy's side - dark eyes, soft brown hair, dimpled cheeks, just like Luke's team captain. The captain whose baby shower he had been trying to find a gift for all of last summer.

You've heard little pieces here and there about Poppy and Lina. Random little stories from Luke, a recollection of a brief encounter with Ellie, but you hadn't expected to meet her yourself in the middle of the building elevator without Luke around.

"I didn't realise you guys were back, I would have come to introduce myself, Luke's been telling us about you all year, hasn't he, bug?"

You feel the warmth seep up into your cheeks at that fact - the two of you technically only being together for the last 6 weeks or so.

"We got in last night," you tell her, only realising the elevator has come to a stop when it's on your floor, and the doors start to open. "He's inside if you want to come and say hi?"

"Are you sure?" Poppy asks, "I can always drop by later, or something?"

"No, it's fine, he's going a little stir crazy to be honest, might be good to see a familiar face that isn't mine."

"I get that," Poppy snorts as she follows you out of the elevator, Lina still happy as a clam on her hip with her gums wrapped around the cookie, soft little lip smacking sounds and hums coming from her direction. "Nico left a couple days ago and we've been walking circles around the local park just to stay busy. Everybody just disappears this time of the year."

"At least the weather's nice," you chuckle, unlocking the door and letting the two of them in before you close it again - relief flooding you at the fact that Jack had blitzed the whole place clean before he left last week. "We're around all week if you need us for anything."

"I see why the kid's so in love with you," Poppy grins, switching her daughter to the other side of her hip and pressing a kiss to her temple. "We might just take you up on that offer, you love your Uncle Lukey, don't you, Lina Bug?"

The sound of Uncle Lukey spreads something warm and crackling through your chest - the picture of his dorky self entertaining a baby, putting on dumb voices and getting super into all the play pretend and make believe stuff is sparking thoughts within you that you never even had before.

And at the mere mention of his name, Luke emerges from his room down the hall - thankfully dressed after his shower, though his shirt is creased and his jeans are unbuttoned - an immediate smile brought to his lips that you haven't seen in the last few days.

"Cheeto!" he exclaims, and you stop him just before he reaches the two of them so you can button his pants together, patting a hand to his stomach to signal that he can go.

He curls his good arm around Poppy, the two of them falling into a sweet and familiar embrace before he diverts his attention to the baby in her arms, who's round cheeks flush just at the sight of him - similar to the way you seem to react to him sometimes.

He coos at her, and she giggles back - her cookie discarded as she throws her arms out to be held by him, and you barely stop yourself from wincing as he picks her straight up, his bad shoulder be damned.

"Are you supposed to be lifting babies?" Poppy frowns, and you're thanking God she seems to be on the same boat as you as the two of you watch him softly bounce Lina about.

"Other babies, probably not," he replies, "Nothing will stop me picking up my little Cheeto, though." The voice he puts on is deep, almost comical, lips pouting and brows furrowing as the baby giggles back in response, little squeaks of delight erupting from her chunky little figure.

"Cheeto?"

"She didn't have a name for a long time," Poppy smiles over at you, "Looked like a cheeto in all of her scans, so that's what we called her before she was Lina, and some people can't let it go."

You smile back, sort of weirdly grateful that she didn't clap back with an, it's a long story, so that you could be involved.

"What are you doing here?" Luke asks, twisting until he's facing Poppy while the little girl he's holding puffs her cheeks out at him.

"We were just gonna go out for a walk and grab something to eat, but I realised I forgot snacks for the walk and I met your wonderful girlfriend in the elevator. We have you to thank for this mushed up cookie, I think," Poppy holds her hand out to show him the soggy mess in her hand from where Lina had discarded it before, and you press your lips together to bite back a smile.

You can't really imagine holding anybody's half chewed food - let alone a baby, the thought of it sending slight shivers down your spine.

"We can get breakfast with you, if you want, we were heading out too, right babe?"

Luke looks over at you with widened eyes and a slight, hopeful smile, all thoughts of Thunderbolts seemingly forgotten. You can hardly say no to him, though - you haven't seen him this excited since he got injured, maybe even before then. And you like Poppy, too.

She probably has some dirt on Luke, and she seems like the type who's willing to share.

"Yeah, I bet you know way better food spots than this one does, he'd shovel anything in."

"Hey," he pouts, but he's overshadowed by the laughter of the woman beside him, who looks over at you with a warm smile and gratitude reflecting in her eyes.

"That sounds incredible, actually," she beams, "I'd really appreciate the company."

And that's how the two of you end up spending the entire day with Poppy and Lina - grabbing breakfast at a little cafe Poppy recommended, her catching you up on all her favourite Luke stories as the baby ends up on your lap at one point, stealing half of the avocado from your toast as she let you feed it to her, then joining them on their walk through the park, and even looking after Lina just the two of you while Poppy has a much needed break for an hour up in her and Nico's apartment.

You see a different side to Luke - and as much as you loved him before, as much as you didn't think you could possibly love him any more, you somehow do.

You love the responsible side to him - the side that for some reason knows what temperature Lina likes her bottles, and the signs that she's sleepy, or hungry, or wanting to explore. You love the caring side to him - the side that urges Poppy to leave her baby in your care, and take some time for herself after days of Nico being away, knowing that she's in for a lot more solitude in the weeks to come.

You love the side of him that shares it all with you - gets you involved in such an intimate part of his life you never had access to, before.

And by the end of the day, when you're feeding Lina some blended vegetable concoction Luke had made for her just before Poppy gets there, and you're catching the bits she spits out in your bare hand like you'd been cringing at just hours ago - you realise you love how he gets you to open up to ideas you wouldn't have ever considered until you became familiar with Uncle Lukey, and you can't wait to see what other sides of him you can uncover in all the unlimited amount of time you now have with him.

[slutzforbueckers]

you belong to somebody else

♡— pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

♡— warnings: cheating; fingering(p + r receiving); oral(p + r receiving); scissoring; confession(???)

♡— synopsis: when paige’s girlfriend can’t do it right, her best friend is always there to pick up the slack.

♡— a/n: i skimmed through this and called it proofreading so apologies for any mistakes!! the piercing fic is coming next, promise.

♡— tags: @tenaciousglitternerd

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

paige wasn’t even sure how she ended up in front of your hotel room. she wasnt sure why she couldn’t stop showing up in front of your door. she let out a shaky breath and took a few steps back. she stopped and looked down at her phone. 12:43 am. paige ran a hand through her hair and decided to say fuck it. she took those couple steps forward and this time she brought her hand up and knocked, three quiet but sharp knocks.

she wasn't even sure if you were still up, she hadn't talked to you since the dinner earlier—the one where her girlfriend scolded her in the bathroom for looking at you more than she did her. a couple minutes of silence went by and she thought to walk away, go back to her room and crawl in bed beside her girlfriend, but then there was shuffle on the other side of the door.

paige looked up and then the door swung open. you stood there in nothing but a red laced bra and a pair of black shorts that were short enough to leave hardly anything to her imagination.

"what are you doing here?" you questioned. you were confused at first but then you noticed that look in her eyes, that look she always had when she showed up because her girlfriend didn't do it right. a smirk formed on your lips and you stepped aside, opening the door wider so she could step in.

you closed the door behind her and made sure to lock it. turning to face her, you stepped closer and ran your hands down her chest. "let me guess... bad night?"

"she's asleep." her voice was merely a whisper. her hands were still shoved into the pockets of her sweatpants. you laughed at the way she avoided your question and ran your hands down her arms and grabbed her wrist, turning her around and pulling her back towards the bed with you.

“of course she’s asleep, you’re good like that, but that’s not what i asked.” you stopped just short of the edge of the bed. you gripped the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, revealing her bare chest. paige’s fingers were hooking in your waistband next, pushing them down your thighs and leaving you in nothing but a matching red set.

she pushed you back onto the bed. you moved up and laid against the pillows and propped yourself up on your elbows, watching as she climbed onto the bed and started to kiss up your body. your hips twitched as she ghosted her lips over your thigh.

“she didn’t even touch me, said she was tired and went to bed.” she mumbled against your skin, looking up at you as she kissed up your stomach. you tsked and shook your head, reaching your hand down and cupping her jaw—your thumb gently smoothed over her cheek.

“you wanna cum, paige? if that’s what you want then say it.” she nodded her head quickly, her cheeks flushing as she moved up your body.

“yes—god—yes.” she didn’t give you a chance to speak before she was kissing you—rough and desperate. you let her push you against the pillows before you flipped her over, pressing her into the mattress. paige breathed out into your mouth as you trailed your fingertips down her abs and into her sweats.

her hips twitched when your fingers made contact with her cunt, a soft moan following as you ran them through her slit and up to her clit. you circled her clit a couple times, smiling against her lips when her thighs fell apart and she whimpered.

you pulled your hand from her and started to kiss down her jaw and neck. her chest was already starting to rise and fall heavier, her head tilted back with a strained grunt when she felt your teeth graze her pulse point. you start your descent down her chest, stopping for a moment to press wet, hot kisses over her tit.

when you got to her sweats and pulled them down, along with her boxers, her thighs fell apart again almost instantly. you cursed under your breath at the sight of how wet she already was, you looked up at her with a smut grin. “this wet for little ole me?”

“shut up.” paige groaned and fell back onto the pillows, her skin flushing a deeper shade of red. you leaned in and flicked your tongue over her clit. once. then twice. paige moaned out, her fingers curling in the sheets. you placed your hands on her thighs and pinned them apart as you wrapped your lips around her clit and gently sucked.

paige’s hand flew down to tangle in your hair when you did it again, an almost too loud moan ripping from her throat. you added your fingers after a bit, slipping two fingers into her cunt with ease. her brows drew together and her lips parted as you curled your fingers perfectly, setting a easy pace that had her hips jutting up.

“shit—oh my god,” she moaned out, her voice jumping an octave. the way you moaned into her sent a shiver through her spine, her back arching and subsequently pushing her closer to your mouth. she didn’t care about the people surrounding your room, she didn’t care about how loud she was being, she didn’t care about anything when she was finally able to release all that built up frustration from tonight.

she could already feel that familiar coil in her core, that same feeling her girlfriend couldn’t make her feel—bless her heart. her thighs started to try and close around your head and her grip on your hair tightened as she tugged your closer.

“yes yes—oh my god! m’gonna cum—don’t stop—don’t fucking stop.” she threw her head back against the pillows with a moan so loud you wouldn’t be surprised if someone came knocking. you didn’t pull away to say anything, you didn’t slow down, you kept going just the same as before.

paige's hips had started to rut up, chasing that orgasm that was so close. her hand slammed down on the mattress when you curled your fingers right against that spot, a loud cry breaking from her. your own breathing had started to become labored, soft moans falling from your own lips, just from hearing her moan.

the sound of your fingers moving in and out of her sopping cunt was just as loud as her moans. it had you dripping in your panties and you hadn't even been touched yet. each drag of your fingers against her walls sent another gush of her cum flooding your fingers.

you curled your fingers one last time and she snapped, her thighs trembled under your hold as she slightly thrashed around. you fucked her through it all, keeping a steady pace until she slowly started to come down.

“damn,” paige panted as she relaxed back into the pillows, tossing her arm over her eyes. you gently pulled your fingers out and licked a broad stripe up her cunt, humming at the taste of her. paige whimpered when your tongue ran over her sensitive clit, her thighs pulling together.

you placed one last kiss to her cunt before moving up her body, you kissed up her stomach and tits before landing on her lips. paige wrapped her arms around your shoulders and pulled you closer, humming at the taste of herself on your tongue. after a few seconds she pulled away, still needing to catch her breath.

“thank you,” paige laughed breathlessly, smiling in post-orgasm bliss. you smiled right along with her and kissed the side of her head. she looked up at you, biting her lip and her hands unclasped your bra behind her back. “wanna taste you now.”

“by all means go ahead.” you rolled off of her and laid down beside her, tossing your bra in the process. paige was on you in a second, kissing your neck as her hands fondled your tits. you arched into her when her mouth latched onto your nipple, her tongue swirling and flicking around the hardened bud. paige didn’t take her time—not really—she moved down your body after a few seconds, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties and yanking them down.

you spread your thighs and sat up on your elbows, watching as she dove in almost immediately. her lips attaching to your clit and sucking it into her mouth. your head fell back with a small moan, her hips jerking. paige wrapped her arms around your thighs and pulled you closer to her mouth, you fell back against the pillows with a gasp.

her mouth worked at your cunt relentlessly, licking and sucking like your pussy was her lifeline. you weren’t complaining though, if anything you we’re merely encouraging her. “so good, baby. fuck—just like that.”

paige brought her fingers down and pressed her two fingers against your entrance, not yet sliding in but just teasing. when she did slide them in though, you released a shaky moan and threaded your fingers through her hair. paige looked up at you, watching every small twitch on your face like she would get quizzed afterwards.

“thought about you the whole time.” she mumbled into you, curling her fingers in time with her words. you gasped at the feeling but your heart was beating so fast you barely registered her words. you looked down at her, meeting her hungry gaze, and you couldn’t help but moan at how she looked. “she doesn’t feel like you, doesn’t taste as good as you.”

“paige—“ you whined, stomach tightening and hips jerking at her words. she always knew just what to say in the heat of the moment—no matter who it was—but with you she didn’t have to think about it, the truth came naturally.

“you’re addictive.” she flicked her tongue of your clit, moaning as she used her free hand to pull back your hood, making the stimulation more intense. her fingers kept the same pace, rough and fast—just how you liked it. “im addicted to you, y/n.”

“yes, yes—right there—oh my god—“ your back arched from the bed and your thighs quivered around her head. your orgasm hit you before you knew it. maybe it was the way she looked up at you like you hung the moon. maybe it was her fingers. or maybe it was the way she said your name. paige pulled her fingers out and replaced them with her tongue, lapping up every last drop of you, moaning in the process.

“fuck, paige.” you panted as you sunk back against the pillows. paige pulled away from you with a pussy-drunk smile on her face, the entire bottom half of her face soaked with your slick. she laid her head down on your thigh, running a hand over your hipbone and up to your tit.

“you think you got another one in you?” she asked even though she already knew the answer. you rolled your eyes and nodded your head, tugging her up so you could kiss her.

somewhere between the hot, messy clashes of teeth and tongue, you flipped her over again and slotted your leg between hers. paige’s legs fell open immediately, her hands gripping your hips as you slowly rolled your hips forward. the both of you let out a shaky moan as your clit caught hers, your slick creating a obscene sound as your cunts glided together.

paige rolled her hips up to meet yours, hissing at the added pressure. your ran your hands over her chest before wrapping your hand around her throat and kissing her. she moaned into your mouth, the vibration shooting straight through your spine as your ground your hips down harder. both of your cunts we’re soaked with a mixture each other, it was spread across your thighs.

“fuck—just like that, baby.” paige gasped when she pulled away to breathe, her eyes squeezing shut and her head tipping back. you ran your tongue along the expansion of her throat, moaning at the salty sheen of sweat coating her skin. “ride me so fucking good.” she moaned as she ran her hands over your ass, landing a harsh slap before her started to pull you into her.

“yeah? that feel good, p?” you ran your lips along the shell of her ear and your spoke, voice low and sultry. paige didn’t think it was possible to get even more turned on but hearing you speak to her like that always did the trick.

paige groaned—guttural, broken—and tilted her hips up again, her body starting to tremble with each grind. you were both so wet, so worked up, it felt like your entire body was on fire from the inside out. every bump of your clits made your breath hitch, made your thighs twitch. her abs were flexing under you, her muscles shaking as her hips rutted up faster.

“m’gonna cum—fuckfuckfuck—don’t stop, y/n. please don’t stop—“ she was babbling at this point, her words broken up by loud moans snd whines. the way she moaned your name made your head spin, moaning into the crook of her neck as you rocked harder, faster. you could feel your own orgasm building, your stomach was tightening, legs burning from the effort.

“me too, baby—fuck—cum with me, p, let me feel it.” paige only nodded, too far gone for words, her whole body trembling. her fingers dug into the plush of your ass as she held you against her, a near scream tore through her as her orgasm crashed into her. she came hard, her cunt throbbing against yours as she writhed under you, sobbing through her orgasm.

it only took a few more grinds before your own orgasm ripped through you in a blinding rush, hips stuttering and grinding as you rode it out against her. you could barely breathe, barely think—could only feel the heat between you. you collapsed onto her chest with a big huff. your heart was racing, breaths coming out in uneven pants, thighs a sticky mess.

“holy fuck.” you mumbled as you rolled off of her and pulled the sheet over your both. paige just laughed and pulled you into her arms, her hand rubbing your arm gently.

for a while neither of you spoke. you laid with each other, skin to skin, feeling the slow of each others breathing and basking in the short time together you had. you almost thought she had went to sleep but then she let out a small breath, too fast to have been asleep.

“you know, i meant it when i said you’re addictive.” paige absentmindedly traced shapes on your arm. she was staring at the ceiling with nothing on her mind but you. you shifted and laid your head on her chest, staring up at her with heart eyes. somehow she always looked perfect after sex, the perfect blush coating her skin that made her glow under the dim light from the lamp.

“really?”

“yeah. i’m like—“ she paused for a moment, trying to decide if she should say what she was thinking or just stay quiet. she looked down at you and decided she wanted to speak. “i’m hooked on you, for real. maybe even before we starting doing this.”

“why didn’t you say anything then?” you were sitting up now, crisscrossed and interest peaked. paige just shrugged and turned her gaze back to the ceiling, avoiding eye contact. the room fell quiet, the only sound being the quiet hum of the a/c. you stared at her features for a moment, your hand twitching in your lap.

“i don’t know, i was scared i guess.” paige turned to face you, propping herself up on her elbow. she reached out grabbed your hand. “i almost didn’t even want to introduce myself. you were scary for a 7th grader.”

“i was not!” you lightly shoved her shoulder, laughing because you totally were. paige just smiled and tugged at your arm, silently asking you to lay with her. so, you did. she laid her arm out for you and you gladly placed yourself in her space.

“i wouldn’t have turned you down. not back then or now.” you let out a small sigh at the thought of what you could’ve been by now. “i wish you would’ve said something.”

“me too,” paige whispered. “everyday.”

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

“fuck, fuck, fuck.” paige cursed under her breath when she saw what time it was. it was almost 5am. she wasn’t sure how she even fell asleep, one minute you were talking and the next you weren’t. she quickly rolled out of bed and used the flashlight on her phone to find pieces of her clothes. she tried to make the easy amount of noise but just as she was pulling her sweats up she heard the sheets rustle.

you had rolled onto your back and slowly blinked your eyes open. you saw her putting her clothes back on and sat up, you knew she would have to leave it was routine but still didn’t make you feel any better. “what time is it?”

“like, 5 something. i have to go before she wakes up.” she said as she straightened her shirt out. you only hummed in response and laid back down, draping your arm over your eyes. paige her bottom lip and crawled onto the bed, placing herself in your lap and moving your arm from your face.

“you don’t have to say anything. i know.” you whispered, reaching up and running your fingers through a piece of her hair that was still messy. paige knew she didn’t have to say anything but she always did anyways, not because she had to but because she wanted you to know you weren’t just her late night relief.

“i’ll figure it out, okay?” she muttered as she leaned down and pressed one last lingering kiss to your lips. “just— just give me some time.”

and with that she was gone.

[caxasy]

older bf!caleb who loves pampering you every change he gets, wanting to spoil you rotten. he does this through many gestures, anything to prove to you that he is willing to give you anything you could ever want.

this can look like him paying for a lot of your dates together. he absolutely detests the idea that you should ever put your card down for anything in his presence. he thinks its an insult to his capabilities of financially supporting you. another thing that he loves doing as an act of affection is cooking for you. takes it incredibly seriously and expects you to tell him whenever you’re hungry so he can prepare food for you.

i think the main difference between the headcanon of older bf caleb and younger bf caleb is that older bf caleb takes a lot more initiative in taking care of you, whereas younger caleb will still take care of you, duh, but also indulges a lot in you pampering him.

older bf!caleb has none of that around here. he wants to be that pillar of support you can always rely on. kind of unhealthy of him, to refuse to be the one taken care of unless you seriously force him to be, but when was caleb ever healthy in his relationship dynamics lets bffr (i love him to death guysplease)

since older bf!caleb does take spoiling you so seriously though that means that there is no room for anyone else in your life to do the same tings for you. he strictly forbids anyone else to ever pay for your things, provide food for you — whether it be someone else paying for your takeout or GOD FORBID actually bringing you a home cooked meal. he genuinely will not allow that to happen.

you made the mistake of telling him that a coworker of yours gave you lunch today, seeing as you forgot to bring the one caleb packed for you, and caleb nearly lost his mind.

“wasn’t that so kind of them? i mean, i would have done the same for them too, but it feels nice knowing that they care that much,” you smile, retelling the story to caleb, who was not even bothering to hide the pout on his face.

“you took this guy’s food?”

“no! he had a lot of extra, plus i was definitely telling him it was okay, but he kept insisting. i felt bad taking some of his food, for sure. i think i might treat him out to some take out our next shift because that was really nice of him,”

now you wanted to give this guy something in return? the next couple of thoughts racing through caleb’s mind was how this had the potential in becoming a never ending cycle and he resisted the urge of dropping his head in his hands in utter dismay.

“i’m sure it’s fine if you just said thank you, no?” caleb comments before shaking his head, not actually wanting to continue talking about this coworker of yours, “well, ignoring that fact for now, i need you to promise me you’ll call me if you ever need anything, okay? if you forget your lunch at home, call me and i’ll bring you it, okay?”

your eyebrows furrow together and he can already read your mind, “i don’t think that’s neccessary, baby. you’re already so busy, i don’t want to intrude,”

“please, you’re not intruding. i want you to call me, okay? i don’t like hearing about other people taking care of my boyfriend. you’re my boyfriend, i want to be the one giving you food whenever you’re hungry.” he sees you laugh softly at his declaration, but he just continues on staring at you in all seriousness, “hey, i mean it. promise me you’ll call me?”

“i promise, caleb,” you finally appease him, pecking his lips softly to seal the deal.

“don’t call me that,” he whines, leaning into you, pleading eyes looking into yours.

“i promise i’ll call for you, hyung,” you roll your eyes when you see him instantly brighten up. he’s seriously the only person you know that begs to hear that title be called to them so badly.

speaking of, he really hates when you call other guys that title. unless they’re your actual blood related older male figure in your life, he hates whenever you call someone else hyung. it’s something that shows comfortability, closeness, and a relationship between you and whoever you were calling that. even if it’s just a friendship, he hates the idea that you’re close enough with someone to say that so easily.

he wants to be the only hyung in your life. so don’t go calling other men that unlesss you want to see a serious crashout from caleb.

the time he brought it up to you, you thought he was joking. it was just a title, a word afterall, but no, caleb takes that shit very seriously.

“it’s like if you called someone else baby,” he defends, but you’re just looking at him like he’s crazy.

“how is that the same?”

“it is, [name], just please,” he begs by elongating the verb at the end of his word, his eyes pleading and desperate as he looks down at you.

“oh my god, get that look off of your face,” you swipe your hand down his face, smooshing hus features with your palm, but he only smiles and kisses your hand.

“so that’s a yes?”

“you’re clinically insane.”

“well…”

older bf!caleb is really protective of you, to a scary, meticulous degree. doesn’t let you lift a finger whenever you’re around him because 1. it’s part of his nature to spoil you and 2. what if you hurt yourself? he is well aware that you are a functioning, full grown man but still, he’d rather choke on a fizzy soda then hear even an inkling of pain come from you.

doesn’t let you chop vegetables for dinner, insists you just have to “sit there and look handsome” for him whenever you try to help.

will never let you open your own car door, or any door for that matter. you swear he can teleport with how fast he puts a car in park and is then standing outside of your door. teases you, calls it your prince-like attitude that makes him be at your beck and call like this, but really it’s just caleb’s desire to show up for you — show that you won’t even need to do something as simple as open a door when you’re with him because he’ll do it gladly.

screens everyone in your social and work circle, all without you knowing btw. he somehow obtains all their information; keeping mental notes of every single one. most of the things he remembers about them are very simple, but he remembers at least one thing for everybperson you interact with daily.

for example, he doesn’t know what department your one coworker that is, in his opinion — getting too close to you, from, but he does know that they have a 6-year old cat named nami and lives on the outskirts of the business district. does not have a clue on your one girl friends full maiden name, but he does know her favorite cafe, her order, and which barista she tips the most (tries brushing off the fact you have some similarities with said barista).

it’s very niche, miniuscule things that he remembers, but he remembers them all for good reason. their weaknesses if they ever cross you or him.

a very specific one: doesn’t let you pick up orders from the counter at cafes or restaurants? if you guys are eating out and they call for your or his name, he’s up before you can even blink. he’s waltzing over there and bringing back your food with a smile on his face. second nature for him to take care of you, yes, but what if you fell on the way to the counter? what if the barista forgot the cup sleeve and you accidentally burn your hand? he won’t allow it. so just sit down and wait there for him like a good boy so he doesn’t stress out so much.

loves having a physical claim on you. he’s a territorial freak and that’s probably the most immature thing about him (on the long list of immature things he does). refuses to let you leave the house without that promise ring on your finger, he’ll even slip it on for you so you won’t have to exert the effort in that!! won’t let you leave if you’re not carrying some part of him with you.

if he just comes with you, though, that’s even better! he loves hanging out with you, he’s a velcro-boyfriend. kind of hates the idea of you going out and doing stuff alone when you can just invite him? invites himself to a lot of your errand runs. will hang off of your body with no regard for public decency.

his broad shoulders trap and cage you in so you have no escape if you manage to get out of the death grip that are his muscular arms. the kind of guy to stand behind you, arms crossed over your front, weighing heavy on your figure just to remind you (and everyone around) that he’s there and he’s not going anywhere.

older bf!caleb might not know all the couple trends on social media (he only uses it to like your posts, send you cute animals videos, and other misc things all centered around you). but best believe he is down for whatever you tell him.

he loves the idea of you posting about your relationship with him, will watch the videos every night before he goes to sleep and hopes you never stop asking him. because what do you mean your relationship, him dating you!!!, is online for everyone to see? like potentially someone across the planet could know that you’re his and he’s yours. it’s a dream come true for him. loves comments that say how jealous they are of your relationship too, makes him giggle that it’s now very obviously known that you two belong with each other.

one of his favorites was that eye trend. an excuse to be cheek to cheek with you, show off his pretty eyes that you love so much while also staring at you? sign him up, he’ll do that shit everyday.

another fun one was the h.s.k.t. one. he loved the song, loved fact you two were wearing matching outfits, loved how cute you look. he loved it so much he threw you over his shoulder at the end of it and spun the two of you around while he playfully smacked your ass. the video ends with him grabbing your phone and walking with it filming you two as if you weren't thrown over his shoulder like a sack of rice.

he also loved the one where he got to just run into frame, pick you up, kiss you, and spin you two around multiple times. loved loved loved that one because if there’s anything caleb’s good at it, it’s proving how physically strong he is and how you weight just about the same as a feather to him. he also really liked how cute it ended up being, cuddled with you that night rewatching it over and over again. you swore you heard him giggle too.

“a boy who’s jacked and kind” oh, that’s got him written all over it!!! no matter if you’re taller than him, he will be throwing you onto his shoulder with you sitting pretty so very easily. doesn’t even need to hold his breath for a second before he’s putting you on his shoulder, looking at your new given height with a smile. no swaying in his footsteps, he’s firmly planted on the ground and holding you tight so you don’t fall.

liked the one where you wrapped a bow around his bicep too, only cause that one made you so happy. he faked messing it up a couple of times just so he can see that excited smile on your face as many times as possible. before you very adorably scolded him to be serious and he flexed his bicep as hard as possible, breaking the tied bow within seconds.

“do you love my arms more than me, be honest,” caleb’s question isn’t serious at all, he’s just asking to rile you up. you’ve been trying for the perfect shot for what feels like forever and caleb’s teasing isn’t helping your patience.

“i’d love you so much more if you could just do it!” you shush him, retying the pretty pink bow and squeezing his muscular arm, “please, hyung?”

“well when my boyfriend asks like that, how can i say no?” kisses you so softly it practically melts away your annoyance. caleb grins as he hears the audio you’ve chosen play again and he prepares to actually not mess it up for you. to make you happy.

and when you finish filming, you throw your arms around him and bring the both of you down onto the bed. he smiles into your skin, kissing your neck softly as his strong arms go around your back in a tight hug.

“thank you, baby,”

“of course, my love. now — show me the video, wanna see my hard work pay off,” you roll your eyes at his wording.

“all you did was flex your arm, shut up.”

“and you still were looking at me like a piece of candy, now what?” he teases, biting your cheek softly.

“don't bite me!” you screech, smacking his stomach. “swear to god caleb, i’ll bite you back,”

“yeah, wouldn't you like that,” he grins, kissing the spot he bit and wiping it softly with the bottom of his shirt. the sneak peek you got of his abs made you forgive him and settle into his lap to watch the video he worked so hard on.

caleb who is dating you to marry. he already knew he always wants to marry you, but is just holding off on popping the question because you guys are a young couple, plus the fact you are a couple years younger than him. he’s so very, very excited though so permanently make you his and vice versa. wants to turn that promise ring into the real deal as soon as possible.

[mitsulov]

Prologue – Cold Night

Content Warnings / Trigger Warnings:Themes of suicidal ideEmotional neglect and parental absenceBullying, including by authority figuresGrief, loss of a parent, and traumaMild violence and verbal aggressionFeelings of abandonment, isolation, and worthlessness.

Have you ever wondered if, in a past life, you did something so unforgivable that the echoes of that guilt still haunt you? As if they were shadows silently following you, existence after existence. Because, really, what else could explain the chaos that insists on surrounding you?

No matter how much you try to prove you're someone worthy — what you get in return is humiliation, contempt, and violence. Without pity. Without mercy. Ironic, isn't it? To be so fragile, so insignificant, that you're now here — standing on top of an abandoned building, staring into the void, the cold wind whispering promises of relief.

Your mother... was Bruce Wayne’s wife. She died giving birth to a child. [Name] Wayne. Yes, you. A baby that might have been something special, a spark of hope in this gray world. But you grew up — not in a warm home like fairy tales promise, but surrounded by the cold, endless halls of Wayne Manor, where silence weighed more than the marble stairs.

Your relationship with your father? None. How do you relate to someone who was never present? Who never offered a glance, a word, a presence? You tried. You were kind, studious, hardworking. But he was just a figure in the mansion's portraits and on newspaper covers. Alfred said Bruce was still mourning. That you should be patient. That he loved you — he just didn’t know how to show it. (It would’ve been more honest to say hated you. At least that wouldn’t raise false hopes.)

Then came Richard. Dick, to those close — not to you. You were four when he arrived. Your memories are blurry, except for one: the day he, in a fit of rage, threw your embroidered handkerchief — the only gift your mother had left you — into the fireplace. You tried to run to the fire, crying desperately, but Alfred stopped you. Later, he asked you to forgive Richard. Said he was confused, still grieving the loss of his own parents. You tried to understand... but from that day on, you avoided him. You were afraid. Afraid that next time, it would be you tossed into the flames.

Jason. Jajay, as you called him. When Bruce brought him in, you feared he would be like Dick — cruel. But Jason was different. Within days, he became your real brother. He read to you at night, cooked with you, shared secrets. And the greatest of all? Your brother was Robin. It was like living a dream. For the first time, you believed things could finally be okay. Until, one day... he didn’t come back. Alfred said he’d gone to a better place. (But then why did everything feel so much darker?)

Then came Tim. But you felt no affection for him. You barely spoke. Sometimes, you'd see him at breakfast, but he wouldn’t even look at you. And deep down, you despised him. He wore the Robin mantle as if it were his. (But Jason... Jason was supposed to come back one day, wasn’t he? And how would he feel seeing someone else wearing what was his?) Other than that, Tim was just another shadow among many.

Even though you were the best in class, always striving for top grades, the example student — you were the target of bullying from everyone at school, even the teachers. Maybe because you never introduced yourself as a Wayne. Maybe because your father never showed up for parent meetings. You had no one. And the only person who ever truly mattered to you... was gone...

So why stay alive?

Now you're here. One step from the end. The wind lashes your skin. Just one second, and everything disappears.

But then... a voice.

An adult’s voice. A woman’s.

You turn slowly. Stare at the one who dared to interrupt your final decision.

Hello😃! This is my first post, I wanted to post it earlier😕, but I procrastinated as much as possible🤓, but well, I apologize if it's bad or if there are any English mistakes, since English is not my first language🥲, depending on my creativity, I may post the next part this week😙.

[mummyemmatojames]

38. A Bedtime Spanking: When a Treat Turns into a Battle

Hello, dear community. Emma here, your Mummy-in-training, with a frustrating update on our MDLB and FLR journey. Last night, bedtime turned into a battle again—months into this dynamic—and it ended with a spanking that left me feeling conflicted. I’d love your perspective on why this keeps happening and how to handle it better next time.

A Great Day Derailed

Yesterday was a good day—James was a happy boy, cheerful and cooperative. As a treat, I let him watch rugby (I think) since his team was playing, something he says he is suddenly passionate about. I set it up on the TV, and he was so relaxed, sprawled on the couch, cheering and totally into it. I loved seeing him enjoy himself��it felt like a little reward for how well he’s been doing lately, especially with his work promotion. All was well, and I figured it’d be a smooth lead into bedtime.

Then, at 7:25 PM, I gave him the usual five-minute warning: “Sweetheart, bedtime routine starts in five minutes.” That’s when it went south. He shouted back, “The game’s not over for 30 minutes, Mummy!”—his voice sharp and defiant. I stayed calm at first, reminding him, “I let you watch it as a treat, but I didn’t agree to a later bedtime. It’s still 7:30.” He grumbled, but I ran his bath anyway, thinking he’d come around. Five minutes later, the game still blaring, he flat-out refused to get in the tub, even after I gave him an extra five minutes to wrap up. “I’m not done!” he snapped, arms crossed, ignoring the water I’d prepared.

Losing It: The Spanking

At that point, I lost it. Months into this dynamic, and bedtime’s still a battle sometimes—it wears me down, and his defiance pushed me over the edge. I marched over, turned off the TV mid-play, and said, “That’s enough.” I pulled him up by the arm, bent him over the couch, pulled his Spider-Man pants down and spanked his bottom hard—maybe 20 swats with my hand, no warm-up, just firm and fast. He yelped and squirmed, but I held him steady until I was done. His face was red, his eyes wet, and he looked like a very sorry boy by the end, mumbling, “I’m sorry, Mummy,” as I pointed him to bed.

I skipped the bath—he’d missed his chance—and led him straight to his room. Normally, I’d nurse him to sleep, but I was too upset to offer that closeness. I still wanted him to have the nutrition, so I warmed a bottle of formula (no new flavor yet, just the one he tolerates) and handed it to him without much fuss. He took it quietly, sucking it down in bed, and fell asleep soon after, still sniffling a bit. Before drifting off, he asked if he could watch the highlights in the morning. I said no— “Rugby’s off-limits in our house for now”—and turned off the light. He didn’t argue, just turned over, and that was that.

Why Is Bedtime Still a Fight?

I’m baffled—and frustrated—that bedtime’s still a struggle after all this time. We’ve got a solid routine: 7:30 PM start, bath, teeth, nursing or bottle, 8:30 lights out. He thrives on it—his work success, his clear skin, his steady energy all show how well it works. So why does it turn into a battle? Yesterday was a treat, not a promise to bend the rules, but he acted like I’d betrayed him by sticking to 7:30. I wonder if I’m too soft sometimes—letting him have extras like rugby—and it makes him think he can push for more. Or maybe he just gets so caught up in the moment that he forgets who’s in charge. Either way, I hate that it ended in a spanking—I don’t want that to be our go-to.

I felt bad after. He looked so small and sorry in bed, and skipping the nursing left a knot in my chest—I love that closeness as much as he does. The bottle felt like a cold substitute, even if it got the job done. And banning rugby entirely? It might’ve been too harsh, but I needed him to feel the consequence—not just for refusing, but for shouting and digging in. I want him to learn that treats don’t mean the rules disappear.

Moving Forward

Today, he’s been quiet—doing his chores, playing with his train set, no fuss—but I can tell he’s still processing last night. I’ll keep rugby off-limits for a bit, to drive the point home, but I don’t want to punish him forever over one fight. I’m also rethinking how I handle treats—maybe I need clearer boundaries upfront, like, “You can watch until 7:25, then it’s off.” And bedtime? I might need a firmer lead-in—no wiggle room when the five-minute warning hits—so he doesn’t think it’s negotiable.

What Do You Think?

I’d really love some insight from the community—why do you think bedtime’s still a battle for us, even months in? Have you had fights over treats turning into rule-breaking, and how did you reset expectations? For those who’ve spanked over bedtime defiance, did it help long-term, or did you find other ways to keep it smooth? And if you’ve banned something like rugby, how long did you stick to it before letting it back? I’m torn about skipping the nursing too—any tips on balancing discipline with that closeness afterward?

Thank you for being here as I wrestle with this. I love my little boy, but last night reminded me how tricky it can be to keep the balance right. I just want bedtime to stop being a war zone.

With all my love (and some exhaustion), Emma (aka Mummy) 💕

[tryandbehappy]

Is Nick a Nazi? Let’s talk.

This is a question that’s come up again and again in The Handmaid’s Tale especially this season, both among the characters and the fandom. People in the show and in real life label Nick as part of “them,” as one of the bad guys.

So let’s break this down, through the lens of history, ethics, and good storytelling.

1. What does it really mean to be a Nazi?

Historically, being a Nazi didn’t just mean “working for the regime.” It meant believing in the ideology: racial superiority, totalitarian control and the dehumanization of others.

It meant actively enforcing and spreading those ideas.

There’s a key distinction that emerged after World War II especially in the work of philosopher Hannah Arendt, who coined the term “the banality of evil.”

She described how people could participate in horrific systems not because they were monsters, but because they were passive, conformist, afraid or just trying to survive.

In that context not everyone in the system was a true believer. Some were swept up in it. Some chose survival over resistance. And morally that’s still complicated but it’s not the same as actively endorsing and spreading evil.

(It’s a very sensitive topic for me, considering my homeland is sliding into a fascist regime. I was able to leave because I had the means but not everyone close to me did. And they have their reasons without them being true believers. It’s complicated)

2. So where does Nick fall?

Nick is not a Nazi. He is not an ideologue.

He’s a man who got pulled into the regime early, when he was very young, poor, and desperate and who found a way to survive inside it while helping others however he could. I love that they even showed he used to spy on the commanders — the actual bad guys — and get them punished, back when he was still an Eye.

He doesn’t believe in Gilead . we’ve seen it so many times: the way he rolled his eyes when Serena was praying over June’s pregnant belly, how he didn’t care when his wife cheated on him, how he didn’t want to consummate the marriage or even get married in the first place. He doesn’t push Gilead’s values — he hates them.

He doesn’t take pleasure in the power it gives him.

In fact, we see him:

• Risking himself to help June, Moira, Luke. He was willing to help Rita. He saved the resistance letters from being destroyed (June almost burnt them down) and got them out of Gilead

• Showing compassion, repeatedly not just to June, but to Eden, to marthas when they were blaming June. He cried over the previous handmaid who took her life and promised he’d take care of the next one and yes, he really did 😏

• Avoiding cruelty. He doesn’t punish. He doesn’t exploit.

• Carrying deep guilt and emotional restraint — not because he’s cold, but because he’s feeling too much. Being so drowned in guilt, he ended up devoting himself to June as his only way of redeeming himself

He is a man inside the system but not of it.

3. Why do people in the show label him anyway?

Because from the outside, it’s easier to judge than to understand (and in real world it’s the same)

He wears the uniform. He has the title. He lives in a commander’s house. HE’S A TERRIBLE MAN

People like Luke and even June, at times see only the surface and refuse to look beyond it. They’re clouded by their own self-judgment and an obsessive need to be perfect all the time.

But that’s the tragedy.

Because Nick is living in a constant gray zone, walking the tightrope between protecting those he loves and not losing what’s left of himself.

(And also because he’s the lead and they need drama)

4. What makes him different?

He’s not passive and he’s not power-hungry.

He’s careful and strategic. And he’s so strong in it. The youngest commander ever. Even tuello noticed “it takes talent” - “just staying out of trouble”

But underneath that there is no cruelty, only exhaustion.He’s not motivated by dominance.

He’s motivated by love, guilt, and the hope of doing something right in a world where everything feels wrong. And his rank as a commander gives him more opportunities, to help others, and to stay alive himself.

5. Why doesn’t Nick just leave Gilead?

Because it’s not that simple and it’s not because he believes in it. He stays because he’s no one outside of it. Because he’d be in danger as a commander, a man with blood on his hands (he could face trial, be locked in jail or be killed)

Because no one’s waiting for him out there. Because he no longer believes in governments or saviors, he’s seen too much.

Because running means facing the version of himself he was before: lost, broken, desperate. Also he doesn’t know the world outside and it was highlighted in the flashbacks (“I didn’t have much of a life before all of this”). Because escaping Gilead is treason and treason means death, even for a commander.

And because now, he’s married to a pregnant woman, and leaving would destroy her life too.

But still he chooses love and want to run away with June. Nick has no political ambition in Gilead.

6. So is it fair to judge him?

It’s human to want things to be simple: heroes and villains, good and evil. But Nick forces us into the uncomfortable middle.

He makes us ask:

What would you do if you were him?

What would you sacrifice? Would you sacrifice your life?

How would you survive without becoming the monster?

Because that’s the real conflict of The Handmaid’s Tale: not just the system, but the moral wreckage it leaves inside everyone who touches it.

Nick is not a saint. But he’s not a monster either. And absolutely not one of “them” (yes June, it hurt a lot 🥲)

[buckgasms]

"This is a good room..."

So I had a little idea for a fic, it's gonna be spoilers for Thunderbolts so if you haven't watched it PLEASE don't read this fic because I dont wanna spoil it for anyone!

A bit angsty but also fluffy at the end....

Fic below the cut

You had been in your apartment, watching the breaking news alert showing a black void spreading across the city.

Your heart had thumped in your chest as you caught a glimpse of Bucky at the site of the growing disaster, and then the TV feed cut off.

You ran to the window and watched in horror as the blackness seeped across buildings until you realised it was heading towards you. Before you could even panic the world turned black.

🌑

Were you in hell?

You considered your life for a brief moment as you looked around, surrounded by all your very worst memories and moments.

They clawed and screeched at you, chasing you from one nightmare to the next. Just when you escaped one, an old agony presented itself. The ones you'd long buried.

Just as it seemed like it would go on for eternity it all snapped back into place. You were back in your apartment, as if nothing had happened.

Even the TV was back on and there was Bucky and his new friends being announced as Earth's mightiest heroes. The whiplash of all your darkest secrets and pain caught up with you in that moment and you dropped to the floor.

Crawling into the corner of the room, you curled up and sobbed.

🌑

After the impromptu press junket Bucky had slipped away from the group and headed straight home. It had been a weird day to say the least, and his body ached. He just wanted you.

He was also doing his best not to linger too long on what he had seen in his own rooms when he stepped into the Void. He'd worked hard to accept his past and turn it into something good. But reliving it in 3D whilst trying to save the world was a bit of a curve ball.

He took the stairs two at a time until he was at the door, already glad to be home, his shoulders relaxing as the door clicked shut.

But something was wrong. The lights were off, the TV humming low and you were...not there. He took another panicked glance around the room until something caught his eye, your foot peeking out from behind the little bar stool by the kitchen.

He approached with caution, but you still jumped when you saw him. You sobbed loudly as he dropped to his knees and let you drag him into a rub crushing hug.

"It's ok" he soothed as you clung to his t-shirt burying your face into his chest.

"It's all over baby I promise, nothing's gonna hurt you..."

It took a little while, some kisses and lots of hair stroking before you managed to stem the flood of tears. You sat wrapped in his arms, still curled up but feeling a lot safer with him there.

"It was so awful. All those rooms.... Just every terrible thing I never want to remember just... There... And doing it alone..." You curled into his body as he held you tighter.

"You're not alone baby..."

He squeezed you before placing a finger under your chin and guiding you to look at him. His blue eyes full of emotion and understanding.

"I promise, I'm always gonna be here."

You smile and lean forward, pressing a kiss to his lips. You sit there quietly for a moment.

"I'm still too scared to move Buck. What if this is still a bad room?"

He chuckles gently and pulls you closer. "Well let me tell you about this room baby. This room is our living room. The one we decided was where we wanted to spend our time together."

"And that is the couch you spent about four hours deciding on at the store-"

"And you took 45 minutes to break it..." You interjected with a giggle.

He chuckles fondly. "Damn straight. I was just taking care of my best girl, not my fault the craftsmanship can't handle me."

"Oh and that's the artwork you got me for my birthday, I'd seen it at the market and you went back and got it for me as a surprise" You remember as he nods again, his eyes flicking around the room full of fond memories.

You sigh and lean against his chest and he presses his lips to your hair.

"See sweetheart, this is a good room and as long as we're in it, it always will be."

[sapphic-circles]

In the Savage Night (Chapter 25)

Read on AO3

“I wish this didn’t have to end.”

Elphaba gazed down at Galinda tangled in her arms and chuckled as her girlfriend let out a dramatic sigh.

“I know, my love,” Elphaba said. “However will we manage two whole hours apart? Oz forbid; they should shut the school down for this.”

“They should,” Galinda said loftily. “But I suppose I’ll survive it.”

The weekend had gone by all too quickly in the wonderful dreamy haze of their new relationship, and as content as Elphaba would be to lie in bed with Galinda forever, she didn’t mind getting up to go to class. Even if they didn’t share all but one of them today, it only meant she’d be looking forward to seeing Galinda’s beautiful, sweet face afterward.

“I know you will,” Elphaba said. “Sports class, however…”

“I’ll tell Mrs. Ratclyffe I hurt my ankle again,” Galinda said. “You’ll vouch for me, right? I shudder to think of the stink eye she’ll give me.” She paused. “It’ll totally be worth it to sit on the sidelines and watch you, though.”

Elphaba’s cheeks warmed. “Of course I’ll vouch for you,” she said. But Oz, she wasn’t sure how well she’d perform knowing Galinda’s eyes would be on her the whole time. She was bad enough at lacrosse as it was.

Then they’d have alchemy, though, and Madame Morrible’s sorcery seminar after that. Elphaba eyed the silver wand abandoned on Galinda’s dresser.

“Have you decided what you want to do about sorcery?”

Galinda sighed. “I think I have to quit,” she said. “I can’t do magic without a wand, and…well, Madame Morrible isn’t going to be very happy if I tell her the one she gave me isn’t good enough.”

Elphaba hummed and raked her fingers absentmindedly through Galinda’s hair. “We can bring mine,” she said. “We’ll tell her I let you try it—which is true—and it works. We don’t have to tell her why the other one doesn’t.”

“I guess it’s worth a shot,” Galinda said. “Honestly, I don’t know why she hates me so much, Elphie. I know I’m not talented, but I did try really hard to write a good essay for her.”

“I know,” Elphaba murmured.

She hated that her mentor felt that way about her girlfriend; it left a bad taste in her mouth and a squirming bit of guilt in her stomach. Why was Madame so adamantly opposed to seeing the good in Galinda? She didn’t understand it.

“If she doesn’t let you switch wands, I’ll talk to her,” Elphaba said. “She should know how well you’re doing. And I’m not okay with her talking to you the way she does.”

Galinda tilted her head up to kiss Elphaba’s cheek. “Thanks, Elphie,” she said. “But don’t get on her bad side for me, okay?”

“No promises,” Elphaba joked.

She parted ways with Galinda for her law class, then met back up with her for sports. It was Galinda’s first class since she’d been captured, and Elphaba could tell she was nervous to join their classmates, but she doubted they’d think anything of Galinda’s absence after the way they stared and whispered at the sight of the chaste kiss the blonde left on Elphaba’s lips.

Elphaba was intimately familiar with the whispering, but she didn’t hear any harsh laughter or even poorly disguised snickering this time. They weren’t glaring at her; they were looking at her with something like awe. She still didn’t quite like the feeling of all eyes on her, but she was grateful at least that they were too distracted with her relations with Galinda to notice anything relating to the escaped Werewolf.

Galinda seemed to relax herself when the only questions they faced in alchemy class were regarding their relationship, of which gossip already seemed to have spread around campus: “When did that start?” “Who asked who out?” “Were you cheating on Fiyero?”

Galinda only laughed at the questions and responded with ease as she held tight to Elphaba’s arm as if showing her off—showing her off, as if Galinda herself weren’t one of the most sought-after girls at the school.

This was Galinda’s element, Elphaba realized. It had been so long since she’d actually seen it that it almost surprised her after the timidness and fear Galinda had shown surrounding her lycanthropy. The younger girl felt perfectly at home weaving stories for their classmates, telling truths but somehow making them sound grander than they really were.

She did lie when one brave soul asked about her limp. Elphaba glanced at her and saw a flash of anxiety so brief that she could have imagined it if she didn’t know better, and then Galinda was talking so confidently that no one would suspect she was making anything up.

“It was so romantic, actually,” Galinda said. “We were taking a walk and I stepped into this horrendible little hole in the ground some creature must have made, and a sharp rock just cut my ankle to shreds. Elphie practically carried me back to our room; she’s been taking such good care of me.” She smiled and kissed Elphaba’s cheek as she flushed emerald.

“It was nothing, really,” Elphaba said, stumbling over her words. Their classmates only cooed at Elphaba’s humilitude at Galinda’s insistence.

“I’ve never been at the center of positive gossip before,” Elphaba said as they made their way toward Madame Morrible’s study. “It’s weird. Does it not feel weird to you?”

“Why would it?” Galinda asked. “It’s a good thing for people to talk like that. It means they’re not spreading nastier rumors.” She paused. “Well—probably. Some do it behind your back. But no one’s going to listen to them if the good things are common knowledge.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Elphaba said. “I don’t know if I’d ever get used to it, though.”

Galinda giggled. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m sure this will be old news by tomorrow. Someone or something more interesting will come along.”

They stopped at Madame Morrible’s door, and Galinda’s demeanor shifted slightly. She lifted her chin and set her brow as if trying to appear confident, but Elphaba could see the nerves running under her skin.

“It’s all right, my sweet,” Elphaba murmured. “I’ll do the talking.”

Galinda nodded mutely, and they entered the study to prepare for their lesson as usual until Madame Morrible breezed in from her quarters.

“Good afternoon, Madame,” Elphaba said before the sorceress could note that Galinda didn’t have her wand out.

“Same to you, dearie,” Madame Morrible said to Elphaba, only sparing a glance from the side of her eye to Galinda. “I trust you’ve been faring well?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Elphaba said. “Before we get started, there’s something I’d like to ask you.”

Madame Morrible tilted her head. “Yes, dove?”

“Well, you see,” Elphaba started. She pulled the gold wand from her bag. “Since Galinda was struggling with her wand, I thought I’d let her try mine to see if it made a difference, and it does. She can cast with this one. Would you allow her to use it instead?”

A furrow formed between Madame Morrible’s brow. “Dear, there is no difference in capability between these wands,” she said. “I’m afraid this may be a matter of personal aesthetics.”

“It’s not,” Elphaba said. “I don’t know why, but she can use this one, and she can’t use the other one. Please give it a chance, Madame.”

Madame Morrible turned toward Galinda. “Miss Upland,” she said. “You can’t even argue your own case for such entitlement?”

Galinda swallowed. “I…”

“You can’t blame her when you talk to her that way,” Elphaba said. “Madame Morrible, I respect you and I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me, but Galinda is a student and she doesn’t deserve this kind of treatment from someone who is supposed to be helping her.”

Elphaba’s heart raced with nerves as Madame Morrible stared at her, mouth ajar in surprise. Clearly she hadn’t expected to be spoken to that way, certainly not by Elphaba, but she couldn’t just keep her mouth shut while the sorceress berates her girlfriend anymore.

Galinda glanced between them with wide eyes. “It’s—it’s okay, Elphie,” she said quietly.

Madame Morrible closed her mouth and cleared her throat. “You’re right, Miss Elphaba,” she said. “Perhaps I have been unfair. Please, Miss Upland, demonstrate what you can do with this wand.”

Elphaba held out the wand for Galinda to take and gave her an encouraging nod, those big, dark eyes relaxing slightly as they met Elphaba’s.

Madame Morrible’s sharp eyes watched as Galinda took the wand and placed a coin on the table in front of her.

Galinda’s hand trembled when she aimed the wand at the coin, but she took a deep breath and managed to steady herself before focusing on the spell. The coin moved this time before Madame Morrible could make any snide remarks, and Elphaba sight with relief before shooting her girlfriend a proud smile.

“Well,” Madame Morrible said, “I do stand corrected. However…” She held out her hand to Galinda in waiting. “Miss Upland, please give me your hand.”

Galinda exchanged a nervous glance with Elphaba before placing her left hand in Madame Morrible’s.

“No, dear,” Madame said. “The other one.”

Elphaba couldn’t think of anything to do, and clearly, neither could Galinda. The blonde hesitated before switching her hands, and Madame Morrible flipped it palm up to reveal the healing lesions from Galinda’s last session with the silver wand.

“I see,” Madame Morrible said. “This is why you cannot use your wand, I presume?”

“It’s just an allergy,” Elphaba said quickly. “The same thing happens to me when I touch nickel.”

“I suppose you are aware of her secret, then?” Madame Morrible released Galinda’s hand. “I did suspect at our last lesson, Miss Upland, that you may have been keeping something Wolfish to yourself.”

Elphaba’s heart dropped, and she stood up to defend Galinda physically if needed. Madame Morrible had been the one teaching her defensive spells, after all, and the thought of anyone putting their hands on Galinda with intent to harm her sent the magic in her veins boiling to the surface.

“She hasn’t done anything wrong,” Elphaba said. “I know what you all think of Werewolves, but she would never hurt anyone.”

Madame Morrible frowned. “It’s all right, dearie,” she said. “I’ll admit I was concerned, but that was before I realized the Wolf was a student. I won’t be turning you in, Miss Upland, if you will allow me to help you control yourself. If I recall correctly, you were not caught on the night of a full moon.”

“I—I did mess up that time,” Galinda said timidly. “But I’ve been practicing, Madame, and I’m getting really good. I’m not a threat, I promise.” She paused. “You know about Werewolves, too? I thought Dr. Dillamond was the only one.”

Madame Morrible’s brow quirked. “I wasn’t aware he was educated on the matter,” she said. “I myself know very little, but I have many resources at my disposal. I believe I can brew a potion to help you control yourself, but that will have to wait until tomorrow. For now, let’s not derail our lesson, shall we?”

Galinda let her breath out and finally seemed to relax enough for Elphaba to feel comfortable leaving her side. She squeezed Galinda’s shoulder and exchanged a soft smile with her before taking her seat again.

“Thank you, Madame,” Galinda said. “I really appreciate it. I’ll take any help I can get.”

“And I’m sorry for getting defensive,” Elphaba said. “I do trust you. I just—I care very much about Galinda’s safety.”

“Not to worry, my dove,” Madame Morrible said. “I understand. There isn’t much we wouldn’t do for the ones we love, is there?”

Elphaba’s cheeks flushed as her gaze lingered on Galinda’s face. She’d always tried to keep her personal life away from school, and she didn’t particularly like it being on display for any professor, let alone such a revered one. But at least Madame Morrible’s demeanor toward Galinda had already changed, and that had been the goal in the first place.

It was the last big thing Galinda had been worried about. She was rapidly gaining control of her transformations, she’d have their room to stay safe in for the full moon, and now she wouldn’t have to fear disappointing Madame Morrible, either. Her secret was safe, she had a wand she could use, and everything seemed to be looking up.

So why did Elphaba feel like something wasn’t right?

[tcoaal]

Is it okay to ask about your thoughts on Andrew and Julia's relationship? The circumstances of how it started and the different ways it ends in chapter 3. Her letter to Andrew gave me chills.

it's honestly just... really sad. every aspect of Andrew's and Julia's relationship is ultimately rooted in lies and her being a convenient, useful existence for him. i typed up "expendable" at first but deleted it because that's not true- she's a very important person to Andrew but not for any reason rooted in good intentions or mutual affection.

Julia has had feelings for him since they were young and was willing to put up with. so much abuse from Ashley in particular later on near the end, and Andrew always dragging his feet and leaving her hanging on almost every stage of their relationship. Andrew would always play the role of a perfect boyfriend but never actually show genuine, true affection- but give lots of little promises that one day we're going to get there, one day it'll just be you and me, one day Ashley won't be a problem in this and they'll just be these little hardships.

Julia was important to Andrew because it made him feel normal so he could pretend he wasn't romantically in love with his sister and ease the Andrew Fucks His Sisters rumor (the later of which worked perfectly). and also, if he could make her happy, he could alleviate his own guilt for Nina's death instead of turning himself in even though it'd give her family and Julia closure. i don't have the screenshots on me, but it's all but stated Julia's first time was a bad experience for her and Andrew is willing to casually joke about it in Shots and Such, as well as a mention in the Cliffhanger End that he would fantasize about kicking her teeth in so she'd give better head. she was useful to him as an outlet for his sexual desires and to ease his own guilt and i think that was about it.

a really important thing i think though that Andrew appeared to have massively miscalculated was how perceptive Julia actually was, that Julia was always just eating everything he ate like candy and that there was no chance she couldn't ever know better.

but we can see like in chapter 2 that Julia like, was already starting to get fed up with this nonsense given it's been happening for likely 5+ years which resulted in her breaking up with him. and i think something that always stood out to me is like... how little Andrew cared when they broke up other than annoyance, and then again in Shots and Such.

he's only at best kind of annoyed. you can literally check out the call girl numbers on the wall nearby in S&S and he'll be like fuck i should've tried harder maybe she would've let me hit it one last time. after also casually contemplating knocking her up just to seal the deal. i think like. literally anyone who actually cared about their ex in even the smallest amount after a letter like that (and when it was all your fault) would be resisting the urge to run into traffic. but he just kinda. casually says huh yeah that sucks oh well.

Anderw's and Julia's entire relationship was one of a complete disregard for one party's wellbeing and comfort for years outside of a superficial fashion and Andrew deserved every single word of that letter and quite frankly, much more. and the fact he can barely care at all other than being sort of annoyed really speaks to how little he actually gave a rat's ass about her other than the ways she was useful to him (a way to make himself free normal, a way to try to ease his anxiety and guilt, and a sexual outlet for his desires) speaks volumes of how much better off she is without him in her life. from the circumstances of when it started all the way to the bitter end it absolutely fucking sucked for Julia and i think she should be allowed to kill him and Ashley with hammers

[alicepooryorick]

I don't necessarily want Steph to undergo a villain arc, but I do get tired of the fact that every time it seems like one could potentially begin, DC chickens out because they realize they'd have to A) acknowledge that Bruce legitimately did wrong against her and that his actions are unforgivable and B) actually include her in something beyond just a cameo. Like, seriously, stop. Why show us Spoiler working with villains during Gotham Underground if the set up was "Steph comes back, reveals she never died, and immediately forgives Bruce for getting her killed" and not "another angry and vengeful Robin is back from the dead and she's going to make it everyone's problem"? Why give us Steph becoming disillusioned with Batman after Tim "died" and start working with Anarky if she's going to immediately find out he's not dead and go back to the Family? Why have Stephanie find out what a great hero she could have been without Bruce holding her back and gaslighting her if the only thing she's going to do with that information is absolutely nothing? Let her be angry, let her be full of hate, let her acknowledge how if she wasn't so afraid of becoming her father, she'd have turned her back on everyone a long time ago, just like they did her.

Genuinely I think the only "villain" arc she could have had that would have been 100% her would have been siding with Anita. The girls went through the same abuse by the same guy, and unlike the boys .. she didn't fail that hard without him. Most Batfam members have had periods of not being trusted. I genuinely think she should have been the one to peel off from the boys and say "no! Anita's right, what the fuck!"

They FIND OUT what Bruce did to Anita btw. It's like, kinda worse than even Steph's?

Like, everything he did to Steph he did to Anita, but he didn't even tell her The One Rule then tells this child who he's been using as a WEAPON to take down her abusive father. The kid that he promised to give the world to.

Then when everything she's ever hoped for is about to be taken and she has to choose between ending the life of her abuser to save the man that promised to keep her safe, or let her and Batman's life get ruined, she made the obvious choice. She had no way of knowing that Bruce had this rule. She was never told.

Then Bruce sob stories about how he never saw this child as a real person and how he feels so bad.

Only to then later not see Cass as a real person.

Only to then later not treat Stephanie as a real person.

This should have been the point where Stephanie's morals told her that Bruce was the bad guy. Genuinely. This is where Stephanie should have sided with Anita.

[hijinxinprogress]

12 year old tim realizing robin’s not coming back to gotham and deciding that it’s Batman’s fault so he has to ruin the little bit of sanity and peace of mind Bruce has managed (read: struggled) to keep in his grasp:

[sskk-manifesto]

!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[llycaons]

bad endings are always more disappointing than bad beginnings because you're promised so much...the potential of the story of so exciting before you...and then you get. this. and that's all you ever get. but if a beginning is bad enough you simply won't read or watch it. ideally this means the middle would be bad but then that's most of the story. actually the two workarounds for this are 1. a beginning that isn't GREAT, but that has some kind of hook or intrigue that keeps the audience interested 2. a substantial middle with some bad pieces that are overcome by the quality of the others pieces. do not by any account sacrifice the ending. the ending builds on the beginning and middle so if those are bad the ending might not be great either, but for the love of god do not pull punches in the ending

[rindreamery]

to be loved is to be seen.

the little things that the blue lock men do for you as their way of saying, "i love you." featuring: itoshi rin, itoshi sae, michael kaiser, oliver aiku ─ content: fluff

note. spreading down bad bllk men agenda 🫦 finals is this week, so that means i will not be able to write at all for 3-4 days, so i just wanted to pop this out rlly quickly (event fics will be written as soon as i wrap up this sem, PROMISE)

itoshi rin picks out the things you don't like in your food.

not that he’d ever admit it out loud, but rin has a folder in his notes app about you— things you like, things you dislike, and every little thing you’ve mentioned to him in passing. he wants to know every little detail about you, to write it down and memorize it until the knowledge becomes stuck in the back of his head. to the point that it becomes like common sense to him (if there were ever a pop quiz on facts about you, he would pass with flying colors.) at the end of every date, or every time he hangs out with you, he’ll update his notes with another little thing he’d learned. you will never catch him admitting it out loud, but it definitely shows in how he treats you.

there is one thing he’d memorized about you, by now, though. it’s written in bold, italicized, and underlined in his notes: you hate mushrooms. 

rin catches himself looking at the ingredients of certain meals whenever the two of you would eat at a new restaurant, or order food from an unfamiliar place. it’s not that he’s necessarily a picky eater because, frankly, he really doesn’t care. but he wants you to enjoy it, he wants you to be able to eat without stressing about having to pick it out. his eyes are always scanning through the print, actively checking if mushrooms are one of the ingredients listed. 

but, there are times when the ingredients aren’t listed, and there are times when you end up ordering something with mushrooms in it. 

he may be dense in certain aspects, but it’s hard for him to miss the disappointed look on your face. the way your expression falls ever so slightly, and your smile falters for half a second. before you could dig in, before you could even put yourself through five minutes of digging through the food— he’s swiftly grabbing it from you. 

truthfully, he does it without thinking. he’s acting on his thoughts before he could even process what he’s doing. rin tries to fight the blush that threatens to form on his cheeks, the way the heat crawls up his neck and to his face at the realization of what he’d done, and he fails. but he’s committed to the act now, and he’s not going to give it back to you until he’s done what he needed to do.

he tries to ignore the somewhat perplexed look on your face, and the way you watch him closely as his fingers make quick work of moving the mushrooms from your plate to his. (he tries to sneak in some of your favorite food from his plate to yours, but he’s not slick, and you definitely notice.)

“here,” he says, pushing the plate closer to you after a few minutes. “you can eat it now.”

he sees you glance at the plate, and then back up at him— he looks away as you beam at him with a grateful smile, trying to ignore his ever-increasing heart rate. 

itoshi sae remembers the small details about your routine.

it is almost guaranteed that sae will wake up before you do. his alarm is set to go off at the crack of dawn, right as the sun starts to peek through the horizon, and he's starting his day while you're still in deep sleep. there’s a set routine that he follows, to a tee: wake up (and then contemplate staying in bed, just to cuddle with you a little longer), stretch, do morning yoga, and then go on a jog. it’s something he’d been doing for years, and he has never gone out of his way to add anything new to his routine— that is, until one morning. 

at first, it started with a random thought. as he was getting ready to leave the house, to go for his morning jog, he had unsystematically decided to set out your favorite mug and go-to morning snack. 

sae didn’t think it would be that significant to you, and he, initially, had no plans of doing it again. he simply had extra time to spare, and he knew that making your morning drink was always the first part to your routine, so he decided to get the first step out of the way for you.

truly, he wasn’t planning to make a habit out of this. but then, you told him, “that was a sweet way to start off my morning,” with that sleepy, morning smile of yours. he tries to not pay attention to the way his heart softens at the sight, and the realization that that had made him happy. yet now, he does it every time.

from then on, his alarm was always set to go off two minutes earlier. it’s rewarding, in his opinion, to come home to you— sitting at the dining table, messy hair and still in your pajamas, eyes half-lidded from sleep, with a smile on your face as you take a sip from the mug. and then you greet him with a thank you and a kiss, without fail, even when he tries to lightly guide you away because he’s sweaty.

it never works, because he folds the second you tell him, “g’morning. i missed you.” and he finds himself adding another part to his schedule. 

before sae’s even aware of it, much of his daily habits had been molded to fit with yours. 

on days where he’s far from home, in another country, he finds that his morning just never feels right without you. it feels weird not having to set out your favorite mug, and it feels even weirder not having you there to smother him in kisses. his routine had always determined his mood, and without you, he’s extra sour. 

“i miss you,” he ends up texting you. (that, too, becomes part of his routine when he’s far from you.)

michael kaiser has all your subtle behaviors memorized.

if kaiser were to be asked to name one annoying habit of yours, it would be the fact that you, sometimes, say things that contradict how you truly feel. he calls you pesky, he tells you that he’ll take your word for it and not read too deeply into whatever you’re saying— but, in a way, he’s contradicting himself too by saying that. he’ll always read into it; he’ll always analyze you, gaze narrowed, and watching for every subtle sign in your body language. he knows you, all too well. 

but there’s one thing you always say, one contradictory statement that you always make, that he’d memorized at this point. “it’s okay, i’m not cold,” even when you visibly are.

it irks him to no end. he doesn’t understand why you would say that even when there are goosebumps scattered all over your skin, when you have your arms wrapped around yourself, and you’re visibly trembling. he can practically see the bones under your skin, rattling, making some comical, cartoony noise in his head. you know that he can see you, and yet, you still lie to him.

and, at times, he does this on purpose— he puts the air conditioning in the car on full blast, all vents pointed at you, just to see how far you’re willing to go. and every time, it’s always the same, with the same answer.

kaiser isn’t completely cruel, however. he’s tucked one of his spare hoodies (your favorite, actually) into the backseat, existing purely for your use. first, he’ll scoff at you, roll his eyes, and let you suffer for a few more minutes. but eventually, the guilt will catch up to him, and he’ll constantly be glancing at you through his periphery, shaking and looking absolutely miserable in your seat.

he’ll think to himself for a second, as if contemplating whether he’ll actually help you out (he always does, he does not want you to actually suffer). and then, he’ll internally sigh, before speaking up. “stupid,” he mutters under his breath. “i have a spare hoodie in the back, take it.”

it’s almost laughable, the way you quickly turn your body around to reach for the backseat, visibly seeking warmth. he sees the look of pure joy in your eyes when you realize that it’s your favorite, and he smiles to himself.

“you’re the best,” you always tell him, as you pull the fabric over your head, and he's content. 

he doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t reprimand you— he lets you do this, every single time.

oliver aiku is always willing to listen to you ramble.

it doesn’t matter if aiku’s had an exceptionally long day, it doesn’t matter if he feels as if he’s on the verge of succumbing to sleep— he will always make time for you. he will never pass up a chance to call you, to listen to you talk about whatever you want, whenever you want. you could talk for hours, going on and on about something that he doesn’t quite understand, and not a single complaint will slip past his lips. then again, he thinks to himself, why would he complain? hearing your voice is the best part of any day, good or bad. and every night, he finds himself waiting by his phone, waiting for your contact to appear on his screen.

he finds no shame at the speed in which he accepts your call, which is immediately, nor does he try to mask the anticipation in his voice.

and if he were to look into a mirror at that exact moment, he would also see the lovesick smile that had started to tug on the corners of his lips. you can’t see him, but he’s sure you can hear it in his voice. the way it softens, the way it loses its rough edges and lightens up ever so slightly, when he greets you. you probably know he’s grinning from ear-to-ear. (he doesn’t think he is, but when it comes to you, he’s completely transparent.)

it doesn’t take long before you’re divulging into another one of your endless tangents. but aiku’s attention remains undivided, only for you. he sits on the other side of the phone, silently, only responding when you want him to. it doesn’t matter if his own thoughts are clouded with exhaustion, his mind racing with the weight of the day—when you call, everything else fades into nothingness.

“did you know that venus is an evening star for 263 days out of the year?” he can hear the excitement in your voice, he can practically see the sparkle in your eyes, even without seeing you. it’s been three hours, and he’s sure that he should’ve been in bed one hour ago. but you’re still as energetic as ever, so he fights the way his body craves for sleep. he locks his jaw, and bites back a yawn, and listens. “and then, the fact that it disappears from the sky for 50 days, before returning as a morning star?”

there’s silence on your end, and aiku takes that as his cue to talk. “no,” he responds, and there’s an amused lilt in his tone. “i didn’t, actually. you should tell me more.” and you do. 

one look at the clock to his side tells him that, at this point, he won’t be getting enough sleep. he’s sure he’s going to be exhausted when he wakes up in the morning— though, he doesn’t really care, and he’s sure he won’t regret it. he’ll let you ramble about the stars for as long as you want, even when the stars themselves start to fade into the morning sky. 

© rindreamery, 2024

[doerot]

I'm still a little mad at this sorry and my head is killing me but I hate that the last two shows I've watched was a psychological thriller take on the magical girl genre with an interesting discussion on societal traumas that young girls face, and catching up with the fucking sao abridged series, and somehow the youtube parody has tighter narrative arcs and story telling