#i wrote this in a car wash yesterday

[lumiolivier]

Clean Start

Series: One Piece

Chapter: One Shot

Word Count: 2199

Rating: T

Pairing(s): Ace x Reader (YN)

Ace works hard. He deserves a little special something, something at the end of his day, doesn't he?

a.n.: This was supposed to be smut. Where's the smut, Lumi? It's all fluffy. I ordered this with smut! But it's covered in cute! Who said you could cover this in cute?! Oh, yeah. I did. Because I decided to write something hella self indulgent. Sue me.

“Hey, baby!” You heard Ace at the front door of your apartment.  After working back to back twelve hour shifts for the last four days and coming home late, he wanted nothing more than to curl up with his favorite person in the world, “Finally free.  Just you and me for the next…Where the hell are you?”

Little did he know, you were in the bedroom, waiting for him to come home.  In nothing but a black silk robe he had gotten you for your birthday.  You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and couldn’t help but admire the reflection.  Because let’s face it.  That robe made you look incredible.  And it only enhanced what was waiting for Ace underneath it.

“YN, where the hell did…” Ace stood in the doorway absolutely stunned.  He wasn’t expecting you to be standing in the bedroom.  Most certainly not like…that, “Oh…Hello.”

“Hi there,” you couldn’t wipe the smirk off your face if you wanted to.  You had a plan.  And part of that plan was waiting for both of you in the bathroom already.  You knew when he’d get off.  You knew how long it took him to get home.  You even factored in a stop at the gas station for a slurpee.  You couldn’t have timed it more perfectly.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure,” Ace pulled you into his hips, his arm resting in his lower back and his lips all over your neck, “of getting my girl like this?”

“I missed you, too,” you squirm under each little kiss with tingles shooting through your extremities, reveling in the smell of his sweat, “I figured you and I could do something together.”

“Oh, darling, I’m flattered,” Ace put a hand to his chest, “But I don’t think I got that in me.”

Mmhm.  Keep thinking that, “I promise this couldn’t be any less strenuous.  This is me taking care of everything.”

“Really?” Ace perked up, “Do tell, YN.  Do tell.  No, wait.  Let me guess.  Does it involve us leaving the house?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Alright,” Ace cocked a smile at you, “Does it involve you?”

“Yes…” You took his hands.

“Does it…” Ace thought a little harder, a little crease appearing in his forehead, “Does it involve…candle wax?”

“It could,” you shrugged him off, “But it doesn’t have to.”

“So, you’re not into trying the kinky shit tonight?”

“Ace!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” His laugh warmed you inside and he pulled you back into his chest, “It could involve candle wax, but it doesn’t have to.  It involves you.  Does it involve me, too?”

“Duh,” you rolled your eyes at him.  Yes.  That’s yours.  You willingly chose him.  You looked into those big, beautiful, lost puppy eyes of his and he had you hooked.

“And…” Ace gently tugged at your robe tie, “Does it also involve me getting to see what’s under here?”

“Of course,” you were already helping Ace peel his shirt off.  And you were fighting every urge in your body to playfully nip at his beautifully chiseled chest. 

“I thought I was unwrapping my present,” Ace pouted out his bottom lip, “I don’t remember where you said you got to get at me, too.”

“It’s part of it,” you assured him as you pulled on his belt buckle.

“I don’t know where you’re going with this, baby girl,” Ace picked your chin up, getting one more kiss out of you, “But I think I’ll like it.”

“That’s the idea…” You kept fiddling with his belt buckle and slowly pulled it through the loops before taking him toward the bathroom.  The sweet smell of vanilla filled the room with hints of nectarine.  And the temperature had gone up a few degrees. 

And that’s when Ace started to piece things together, “YN, you little minx.”

“Yes?” You started to undo your robe tie, but you still kept your robe closed as you stepped into the warm water in the bathtub.

“I had all intentions of showering anyway,” Ace looked you over, more than ready to sink his teeth into you, “Are you suggesting a bath?  Just the two of us?”

“If that’s alright with you.” You took your robe off for him, showing off a little for Ace, “Come on, baby…Don’t make me sit in here all by myself.”

“And why in the hell would I ever do something like that?” Ace couldn’t get his clothes off faster.  Granted, taking a bath wasn’t his ideal way of spending his Friday night, but he couldn’t tell you no.  Of course not.  To say Ace worshiped you would be an understatement.  He loved every inch of you.  Every imperfection, every scar, every little freckle, every curve.  He wanted all of it.  Once he was naked, he poked at your back, “I’d be happy to.  Move up a bit, babe.  Let me in.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” you weren’t budging.  You had something much better in mind, “I’m not going to be the little spoon.  You get to be little spoon.”

“Me?” Ace laughed a bit, “Cute, YN.  Seriously, move up.”

You still weren’t going anywhere.  And your act of stubbornness did not go unnoticed.

“YN…” Ace gave you that look.  That one look that made you know there was about to be a large hand colliding with your ass very soon.  Anything he could do to make you behave.  And yet, you still didn’t move.  Fortunately, Ace didn’t have the energy in him to put up a fight.  And he caved so quickly as he climbed into the tub with you, “Fine.  If this is how you’re going to be, then I’m only going to be worse.”

“That’s the spirit,” you wrapped your arms around him and immediately, the tension in Ace’s body melted away. 

“Mmmm…” Ace shut his eyes for just a moment, taking in your warmth, the pillowy softness in your boobs he gladly rested his head on, “You spoil me.”

“You think I spoil you?” You kissed the top of his head, “I haven’t even started to spoil you.  I’m just letting you acclimate first.  Then, I can spoil you.”

“I’m so lost…” But he didn’t care.  He trusted your judgments and your process.  If it meant him having skin on skin contact with you and it made you happy, he’d be fine.

“It’s a good thing you have me then, isn’t it?”

“My little light in the dark,” Ace nuzzled his face in what he affectionately referred to as the valley and gently nipped at your chest. 

It wasn’t the first time Ace had called you this.  But it warmed you inside all the same as if it were.  The thought of being his light got to you.  The thought of being the center of his universe was the absolute best.  And if he needed you to be his light, then his light you would gladly be.  You reached over the side of the bathtub into the wicker basket you kept the soaps in and grabbed a bottle of shampoo.  Because the moment Ace brought a bottle of 3-in-1 into your house, it didn’t even make the trash can.  It splattered in the parking lot outside your apartment.  And never again, you declared.  Never again would such atrocities enter your home again. 

And your fingers ended up tangled in his dark, wet hair.  At first, he wasn’t sure what you were doing.  He even had that look in his eyes that told you all you needed to know.  But much like when you were trying to get him in the bathtub in the first place, he didn’t have the energy to fight you on anything.  You knew he hated doing it himself anyway, so why not make life easier for him?  That’s what you did.  He comes home tired, beyond the point of exhaustion, falling apart at the seams.  You lick his wounds.  You knew far too much about what he’s been forced to endure.  Much like the bottle of 3-in-1 he brought into your home, you told yourself never again.  That he deserved so much better. 

You knew deep down you were doing a good job when the bathwater never went cold.  His fingers shooting off little bits of heat kept it from going cold.  And those low, controlled pulses only came out when Ace was perfectly content.  Once you finished rinsing his hair out, you noticed him hardly flinch at the water.  You looked down at Ace and he was sleeping like a baby.  Like a peaceful little angel.  And a special glow radiated from his cheeks.  You would do everything in your power to protect that peace.  But once you went through a bout of conditioner and a little bit of moisturizer for his dry and severely windburned cheeks, you knew you had to do it.  You had to wake him.  There was no way in hell you’d be able to carry Ace out of the bathtub.  As much as you loved to think you had that kind of upper body strength, that wasn’t going to happen.

“Ace…” you spoke gently.  The last thing you wanted to do was cause him any alarm, “Ace…Baby…Baby…Ace…Babe…You need to get off me.  You’re crushing lefty and it hurts like hell.”

“Mmm…” Ace still didn’t move.  Not because he was still asleep.  He was far too comfortable.  All he did was move his head off your boob.

“Ace…” You knew this would happen.  You knew it was going to happen this way.  And you needed a better way to motivate him.  And right now, only one thing would work.  You got down in his ear and put on the soft, sweet little voice that drove him crazy, “I can’t hold my breath underwater for long.”

“Did I nod off?” Ace blinked the sleep out of his eyes, “I could’ve sworn I was awake.”

“Nope,” you kissed his cheek, “Not that I don’t love this, Ace, but we should probably think about heading to bed.”

“What gave you that idea?” Ace mumbled into your cleavage, still half asleep.

“Come on,” you nudged him off you and reached for a couple towels, “You and I need to go to bed.  We got shit going on tomorrow.”

“Really?” Ace looked at you strangely.  He didn’t remember making any plans.  He didn’t remember you clearing anything with him.  Unless it was while he was totally not asleep, “I kind of thought it’d be just the two of us and Saturday morning cartoons.”

“I mean, obviously,” you agreed, “But that’s just tomorrow morning.”

“Did you go to the store today?” Ace crossed his fingers.

“And found the sugariest box of cereal on the shelf,” you assured him, “Because you’re a fucking child.”

“If it doesn’t have any sugar, it has no taste,” Ace argued, “And if it doesn’t have any taste, it defaults to cardboard.  Don’t give me that shit.”

“Come on,” you nudged him out of the bathtub.

“Fine, fine,” Ace got out of the bathtub and you threw him a towel, “Saturday morning cartoons aside, what else do we have going on tomorrow?”

“We’re going to have to make another trip to the grocery store,” you told him, “Because it’s been too long since the three of you were in one place.”

“Wait…” Ace felt around in his drawer for a pair of boxers, “Are you saying…?”

“I am saying,” you nodded, “The boys are in town.”

“Hell yeah!” Ace’s energy levels started to shoot back up, “It feels like ages since I’ve seen Luffy and Sabo.  I miss them.  How did you know they were coming into town?”

“You act like we don’t keep in touch,” you giggled a little, putting your own pajamas on.  A light blue negligee would do.  It was one of your favorites.  And definitely one of Ace’s, too, “Sabo called and said he’d be around.  And it wasn’t long after that I heard from Luffy.  So, we need to make a trip to the store tomorrow.  Because there’s no way in hell we have enough to feed everyone.”

“YN, look me in the eye,” Ace stared blankly at you, “Do we ever have enough to feed everyone?”

“That’s on Luffy.”

“That is on Luffy.  Kid’s got a hell of an appetite on him.  Shit’s hereditary.”

“Is it really?”

“You’ve never seen Garp eat before, have you?” Ace asked.

“Can’t say I have.” You don’t even really remember meeting Garp.  He wasn’t someone Ace wanted to introduce you to.  You were too special.

“Trust me,” Ace assured you, “It’s a hereditary thing.  But on a less infuriating note, do you think we could go to bed now?  Because the sooner we go to bed, the sooner…other things can happen.”

“Really?” you crawled into bed next to him, “And by other things…What could those…other things be?”

“Clearly, cartoons, YN.  What else?”

“You’re a disaster,” you rolled over, “Good night.”

“Hey, hey…” Ace draped an arm around you, “Where do you think you’re going, young lady?”

“Sleep.  If that’s alright with you.”

“Actually,” Ace pulled you closer into his chest, “That sounds wonderful.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

Yep.  This was the one.

[inkskinned]

i'm used to it, and how bad it is, and how often it's so bad that it rings like a bell inside of me, drowning out everything around me. and the truth is that i get frustrated with myself about it - again? we're like this still? again? it's not that i feel weak, precisely. it's just this sense almost like - i've already been pushing against this thing for years now, shouldn't i have gained more ground?

i get frustrated because i'm sick of picking up the loose ends every six months. i get frustrated because it's always this same shit, same problem - i lose myself in a matter of months; spiral out of control, lose touch with friends and loved ones. i stop taking care of myself and therapy gets hard and i let everything around me wilt and shrivel and fall off; start somehow both sleeping too much and not-enough. i panic-attack and cry in my car in a target parking lot, pulling my hair out and hurting my ribs from sobbing so hard - and later, when i'm better, i'm embarrassed because how could i let it get that far?

it feels like - i already have done this so many times. isn't there a way out of it? isn't there a point where i've just... won? that it never happens again, that i just get to be done? maybe this is weakness, i guess - that i still (so often!) succumb.

i am used to it, so i forget exactly how hard it gets. do you even know how many times i've laid in bed, exhausted, blank and numb and listless and said - i can't anymore. i just can't. i'm not even really upset. it's okay. i've been here long enough. so much of my life was beautiful.... i'm just... done.

do you know how many times i woke up and i said - i can't and put my feet on the floor and said i can't, i don't want to and took a shower and walked the dog and bought myself fresh bread and put a nice playlist on and said i really can't, there's no end to this and i went to work and i called a friend and i made myself cookies even if food tasted like ashes and decided that i really should wait for the new album from that artist i love and i thought i can't, it's not worth it and then i washed my hands and cut my hair and drank more water and wrote a poem and signed up for an art class at the local community college and said i can't, i can't, i won't do this again, and i paid my rent and let the dishes rot in the sink but still made myself eat anything fresh even if it meant overdrawing my account on a stupid bag of plums just because they looked delicious and do you know how often i closed my eyes and thought this is it i really fucking can't, something has to give and i have nothing left that it can take and then i went to bed and i got up and i fucking survived anyway

yesterday the local ice cream place opened up for the first time this season and they were giving out tiny samples of their new dairy-free options and i tried a mango sorbet. three months ago i was positive that februrary was going to be my last month on the planet. i am teaching my dog a new trick and i just discovered a new band i love. i got a plant from the clearance aisle and repotted her and she's been perking up. i made salmon for alison and we ate it in her new house with her new beautiful baby girl. my manager told me he keeps recommending my work to others just because i always include a stupid number of puns. tomorrow i'm trying a new dance class. tomorrow i'm maybe going to buy more plums.

i forget, you know? it's not some bone-deep strength or some magical power. it's that some part of me knows - i need to stay. in all of this; out of all of this - i just want to choose love.

[toonice113]

Disconnect ⋆ ★ N.Hischier

Pairings: Nico Hischier x Reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: After a rough start of the year for the devils Nico feels the pressure of being captain but when you feel him start to spiral you are there to catch him.

Warnings: Nico and reader share a shower, but no explicit content. not edited.

Word count: 734

⋆˚࿔ tina's note 𝜗𝜚˚⋆  just a little thing I wrote today after the game, Imma need for them to stop interviewing him after the losses he looks so sad pls(idk if they interviewed him today but all the other times), for the devils to give this man a win, and for whoever to give this man a long hug and just hold him for a while I swear. (If this sucks I'm sorry I'm sleepy and wrote it super quick)

You are in the family room having a conversation with Nicole while keeping your eyes on your phone waiting for the message to come through, After yesterday’s loss you boyfriend had told you not to wait for him and the only thing you had heard from him since then was a ‘thanks’ message as a reply to you wishing good luck in today's game. You had asked Timo to let you know when Nico was leaving so you could catch him on his way out not wanting him to be lonely right now feeling like you had given him some time for himself yesterday.

“It just sucks because they are really trying but it’s just not going their way” Nicole sighs and you nod, knowing all too well what she was saying and with Nico it seemed to be ten times worse since he kept blaming himself for the state of the team as he was their captain “Jesp was in bed by like seven last night, what about Nico?”

It's your turn to sigh “He wanted to be alone yesterday so he asked me not to wait for him I actually haven’t spoken to him yet” The blonde looks at you with sorry eyes “I think he just doesn’t want to vent because he feels like it would be a burden or something but he carries so much on his own and I know he thinks he can’t let it out because he’s the captain and is supposed to be the strong one for the team, I just wish he would take a day to disconnect but I know he won’t do that right now, I’ll still try to talk to him about it later though, this is not healthy for him”

As you finish your sentence your phone buzzes, it’s Timo letting you know that Nico has just finished his post match interview and is packing up to leave, you say a quick goodbye to Nicole and walk out ready to intercept him on his way out, you left your car home so you could drive with him after the game so that’s not a concern for you. Your heart breaks as he rounds the corner, his head low and shoulders slightly slouched not taking notice of anything around him, you walk towards him and hold his hand falling into step once you catch up, he doesn’t say anything, only squeezes your hand and you two walk to his car. When you arrive at his car you take his keys “I’ll drive us home you just rest” You tell him and he nods too tired to fight you giving you a quick peck before getting in.

The drive to his apartment is quiet, and although there’s a lot you want to say to him you let him enjoy the peace, when you get home he kicks his shoes off and as soon as the door clicks closed he  pulls you into his arms and you feel him melt as you reach your hands into his hair “Why don’t you go take a warm shower while I order us some food” You tell him but he shakes his head and holds you tighter 

“Don’t want to let go” He says, his voice deep and slightly slurred due to exhaustion even though it’s only 4pm 

“Okay let’s go take that shower together then” You say and start walking towards his bathroom while he still holds onto you, only letting go as you two undress and pulling you back as soon as you get under the hot water. You help him wash his hair and he returns the favor and once you’re both clean, even though you already were since you had a full shower before the game, you walk back into the room getting dressed in warm sweatpants and sweatshirts, he lays his head on your stomach holding onto one of your thighs closing his eyes as you run your hands through his damp hair, you feel him fall asleep quickly and decide to let him rest for the rest of the day leaving the conversation you know you need to have with him for the next day when he is better rested opting for ordering food from your favorite chinese place a couple streets away from his apartment “You rest my love, you deserve it” You mumble leaning down to kiss his head.

[gbukkii]

plug Connie x black reader sum nasty smut and angst 🥰🥰

oh yes bby i got youuuu.

A/N: i haven't wrote any sort of smut since march so this might be kinda bad. other than that please enjoy :)

synopsis: you and connie have been arguing, leading to make up sex at a party.

tags: degradation, creampie, smut with plot, eye fucking, cunnilingus, p in v.

ＤＲＡＮＫ ！； ｃｏｎｎｉｅ ｓｐｒｉｎｇｅｒ

"Babe, I'm done arguing with you," Connie said looking at you. You sat with your legs crossed on the shared bed you and your boyfriend slept on. Your bonnet was slightly crooked to the side with your back slouched.

"You're doing too much." He added as he stood at the foot of the bed looking at you like you were crazy.

Lately, you and Connie have been arguing over complete nonsense.

Yesterday you guys argued about him being out all night doing his work which consisted of selling the local population drugs. This morning you guys argued over who had to wash the dishes.

"Baby, I told you I would do them later after I was done with my deliveries." He softly explained to you. "I don't understand why you're so frustrated with me." He said, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

"You don't understand?" You asked, mocking the tone of his voice. Connie sighed loudly as you said that; you were really getting on his nerves.

"You don't understand that your drug dealing impacts our relationship?" Your voice got a little bit louder as you spoke, you were growing tired of his absence. This relationship was feeling extremely one-sided.

"You know what I did before you got with me." He tells you, his voice is low as he looks at you in disbelief.

You were tired of this conversation. You get up from the bed and before you can walk past Connie he grabs your arm softly, not being too rough.

"Connie get off of me!" You snapped at him, pulling your arm away from his grip.

"Don't yell at me." He told you, his voice sounding more like a warning as he looked down at you with those big eyes that you adored so much.

It was hard to stay mad at him when he looked down at you like that. But, you were tired of him constantly making promises and leaving them empty.

"I need space." You told him, changing your tone of voice realizing that snapping on him wouldn't improve the situation.

When you said you needed space that pissed him off. "What do you mean?" His agitation visibly showed on his face.

"I need to be alone for a couple of days." You told him as you looked up at him, waiting to see his reaction. "Where the fuck are you gonna go?" He quickly said.

He was obviously mad.

Why do you need space over a stupid argument?

"So you need space because I told you to wait for me to do the dishes?" He asked you condescendingly, that tone really ticked you off.

"No, I need space because you don't have your priorities straight." You said as you started to put on your Crocs to leave the apartment.

Connie was looking at you too stunned to speak. You were actually leaving. "Where are you going? I don't care about all that other shit." He says, following your every move.

You rolled your eyes as he spoke. "I know you don't care, that's the point." You snapped as you took the keys to your car.

"I'll be at my parents, let me know when you have your shit together." You said before walking out the door, slamming it in Connie's face.

The moment you slammed the door in Connies face he backed up. He murmured something under his breath and then let out a sigh while scratching his head in confusion.

You giggled while being on FaceTime with some of your closest friends.

You haven't talked to Connie in a couple of days. You've been with your parents staying low.

"Y/n, are you going to Jeans' party?" Your friend Aliviya asked you.

"I was supposed to go," You softly told her while looking directly at your laptops camera. "But, now I'm not sure" You added.

Jean was one of Connie's closest friends, they grew up together and even did business with one another.

"Bitch, don't let your argument ruin your fun." Your friend Samantha said, your other friends on the call nodding their heads in agreement.

"You're coming," Aliviya said, leaving no room for an argument. "I'll come get you at twelve, that gives you plenty of time to get ready." She says before leaving the call. After Aliviya left, everybody said their goodbyes.

You closed your MacBook after everybody left the call, sighing while looking at yourself in the vanity mirror.

You got yourself ready. Blasting your favorite songs from your playlist to lift up your spirits, despite how much you hate to admit this; arguing with Connie was affecting you.

The knot-less boho braids in your hair touched your butt in the black, but classy party dress that you were wearing. You checked yourself out in the mirror before spraying tons of vanilla scented perfume.

You did one last spin in the mirror before grabbing your gold clutch and phone. When you checked your phone you saw that Aliviya had texted you, signaling that she was outside waiting for you.

After you put on your heels you left your parents house to see Aliviya's obnoxious car outside playing music, and of course, smelling like weed.

You entered Jeans house with your friends, the loud music practically making you deaf. The smell of alcohol and different strains of weed hit you like a ton of bricks.

Aliviya leads you to the drinks, quickly offering you something to get your mind off of things. To be honest, you needed it.

But, as soon as you took that sip of Pink Whitney you immediately spotted your boyfriend talking to Jean. You guys made eye contact, and you looked away in a heartbeat.

Connie then excused himself from the conversation he was having with Jean and approached you.

"So, you're gonna act like you didn't see me?" He pressed you while taking long glances at your curvy body. You shifted uncomfortably at his gaze, him looking at you was making you incredibly aroused.

Your cocky boyfriend takes note of this. "Who you wearing this for?" He said, pulling at the straps of your body-con dress. His eyes were on you, and only you.

"I'm wearing this dress for myself." You told him while trying to move away from him and his wandering eyes. He raised an eyebrow at your statement, he also realized that you were trying to move away from him.

He discreetly pinned you against the kitchen counter with his hands on your hips. You were looking everywhere but him, searching for your friend Aliviya but her tongue was down Jeans throat.

"Hey, look at me." Connie said, "You haven't looked at me since you got here." He pointed out, and it was true. When you did make eye contact with him you quickly looked away.

You didn't know if it was the tension from the argument between you, or the tension in your panties that was begging to be fucked.

When he said that you looked at him, your brown skin was glowing with rosy cheeks. Connie smiled at this, you were always so good for him. Listening to him, as you should.

"Come with me." He said, taking your hand and quickly leading you through the crowded house. After walking in on multiple couples in the rooms, you found an empty bathroom.

Connie wasted no time grabbing you firm, but gently on the neck and bringing you in for a deep passionate kiss. The kiss was slow at first, and then progressively got quicker and nastier.

Connie broke the kiss, placing his big tatted hands on your butt and lifting you up onto the sink. Your legs involuntarily opened for him, your body already knew the routine.

The song Swimming Pools came on. The lyrics were muffled but you recognized the beat.

Before you knew it, Connie was in between your legs taking off your panties with his teeth looking up at you the entire time. He teased you, kissing and licking your inner thighs slowly.

Without a warning he then began to fiercely suck on your clit, still looking up at you. "Oh my fucking god." You mewled, grinding your pussy impatiently on Connies face.

He then began to lick on your folds to the beat of the song playing throughout the house. You moaned loudly, letting Connie know that you were close.

But, you didn't deserve to finish. Not yet.

Connie abruptly stopped his licking, making you whine at the loss of friction. He brang his face out from between your thighs. He had your juices all over his pink lips.

He looked at your face, noticing the look of disappointment. "You think you deserve to cum after the way you've been acting?" He asks you.

He pulls you down from the sink, quickly not leaving you any time to complain. He bends you over so you were facing the bathroom mirror.

You hear Connie undoing his belt, and taking his thick and long dick out. He then grabbed you by the face.

"You're gonna look at me while I'm fucking you, understand?" You quickly nodded your head. You were desperate for him, all this arguing had you pent up and horny.

He let go of your face and then slapped your wet pussy with his hand, making you jolt forward and let out a tiny whimper before he stuck his thick digits in you. He was preparing you for the real deal.

He fingered you until you were on the brink of cumming, he then pulled his fingers out of your sopping cunt. You see him lick his fingers clean from behind you through the mirror.

Connie gently grabbed you by the waist, although he was gentle he still made it known that he had dominance. He led his big throbbing dick into you, letting out a moan as he bottoms out.

He looks at you through the mirror, making sure you were still paying attention and following his directions. He then started to move quickly and with a purpose.

He watched as the flesh of your ass connected with his balls. "Look at you, you're such a whore for me." He said through gritted teeth while he continued to look at you through the mirror.

Everytime you closed your eyes and didn't watch him, he roughly hit your g-spot making your eyes open with a moan.

He pulled you by your braids as he roughly fucked into you, he was leaving you a moaning mess. "Connie!" You moaned his name as you came closer to release.

"What baby?" He mocked as he continued to fuck you. He let go of your braids, moving closer to your neck while thrusting up into you. He began to kiss on your neck, feeling a little bit sorry for the way he was fucking you.

He felt you were getting tight around him. The knot in your stomach snapped, you came all over his dick. He continued to fuck you through your orgasm trying to reach his.

He smacked your ass making you moan loudly. That moan sent him over the edge, he came in you. Releasing all of his load and frustration into you.

You were both out of breath, you stood bent over the sink for awhile before Connie said anything.

"So, do I still have to do those dishes?"

[iovestuck]

feeling a bit shy ☆ 박종성

staring. boyfriend!park jongseong & girlfriend!female oc

wc. 1.3k | genre. fluff, established relationship, romance, soft, etc. | warnings. start of monthly, cramps, bf buying pads, lots of cute moments, kissing, make-out scene if you squint closely, etc.

iovestuck's notes. thank you for reading my one-shot! It's my second one-shot for this account. It took a while since I was not in the mood to write anything for the past month and such. It's something cute and sweet since it's also my monthly. I hope you enjoy it!

masterlist.

Ara was sitting in her living room while her boyfriend was making dinner. She was on her phone, minding her own business when suddenly she felt a gush of something. Quickly, she stood up from the couch and speed walked to the bathroom.

Closing the door behind before locking it, she quickly pulled down her pants as she sat down in the toilet and saw a puddle of red on her undergarment. She quickly went to her basket and took out a new undergarment. Then she searched for a pad but couldn't find any. Realizing she forgot to buy some yesterday after cleaning the apartment.

Ara groaned in frustration, “Why did I forget?” Sitting in the toilet for a while before she sighed. She dared to call her boyfriend. “Ara, are you okay?” He answered right away. She took a deep breath before answering, “Jay, could you do a favor?” He hummed in response. “Sorry, if this is embarrassing, but could you go to the store and buy some…pads?”

“Of course, love, thin or thick?” He asked. “The thick ones and buy two bags of them, please.” She heard him walking to the front door. “Alright, anything else?” He asked as he put on his shoes and grabbed his car keys. “No, that will be it.” They said their goodbyes before ending the call.

Ara flushed the toilet before pondering over the thoughts and the embarrassment. She couldn't move or do anything since she didn't have any more pads. She wrote in her reminder to buy thin pads as soon as she noticed they were running out, too. Then she heard a knock on the bathroom door. “Love, I have the pads!” Jongseong shouted from the outside.

“Thank you, Jay. The door is open,” she said as she quickly moved her pants up so she wouldn't be too exposed. He opened the door and handed her the plastic bag. She shyly took it. He smiled before closing the door behind him. Ara then changed into a new undergarment and a pad. Wash her hands before organizing the pads into the basket.

Then, she walked out of the bathroom. Taking a deep breath before walking into the kitchen. In the kitchen, she spotted Jongseong making something. She took a seat on the island stool and rested her head on the counter. Her boyfriend turned around, and a soft smile appeared across his face. He settled the cup next to her before ruffling her hair. “You okay?” She hummed in response. “Cramps are coming.”

“Drink the hot chocolate I made for you.” She hummed in response before sitting back up and taking the cup into her hands. She sipped the hot chocolate as she watched her boyfriend go to heat the heating pad. “I don't deserve you,” she muttered while sipping in the cup. He looked at her. “No, I don't deserve you.”

She shook her before putting down the cup and the rest of her head on her arms. Jongseong smiled as he ruffled her hair. “I am almost done with cooking. After we eat, then we can cuddle or do whatever you want.” Ara hummed in response. He went to finish cooking dinner.

Once they finished eating, Ara helped a bit before her cramps got worse. Now, she was curled up in the warm blanket on the couch. She was watching the second episode of Love Next Door. Jongseong walked to the couch after finishing cleaning up. “Do you want me to warm up the heat pad again?” He asked as he put down some snacks and hot chocolate on the coffee table.

“If you want,” she answered as she took the heat pad from her lower stomach and handed it to him. He went to warm up the heat pad again. Once he came back, he gave her the heat pad, and she quickly put it back in place without any thoughts. Jongseong took a cup of hot chocolate before sitting down next to her.

“Here.” He handed it to her. She was about to take the cup, but her cramps hurt so badly that she messaged the lower part of her stomach again. Jongseong stood up again and went to the kitchen. Then he came back with a straw. He blew in the hot chocolate so it wouldn't be hot when drinking from the straw. He sat back down, holding the straw and the cup as he put the straw near her lips.

Ara took some sips as a smile grew on her face. “It's delicious.” He put down the cup back on the coffee table before pulling her into his arms. “That's good, I made it extra sweet for you.” He gave a kiss on the lips. The kiss was passionate and gentle.

As he pulled away, he licked his lips. “Oh, it's very delicious.” Ara blushed and quickly hid herself inside the blanket. Jongseong laughed before pulling her even closer. “You're so cute.” She shook her head inside the blanket. “No, I'm not.”

“Come out of the blanket. You are going to suffocate yourself.” She shook her head again. “I'm good here.” He shook his head and pushed the blanket down to see her face. “Hey—before she could say anything. He kissed her again and put something in her mouth. She swallowed the thing in her mouth before asking, “What was that?”

“Something sweet,” he replied. She pouted, “I want to have a taste of it, but I swallowed it before I could.”

“Do you want more?” She quickly nodded. He leaned towards the coffee table and took a jolly rancher before opening it. He then leaned back. “Open your mouth.” She opened her mouth without any hesitation and he put it in her mouth. “How do you know I love Jolly Ranchers?”

“Your mom told me a while back. She said that you whined about wanting it, but it is always out of stock and such.” Ara nodded. “Oh, this is cherry flavored, want some?” He shook his head. “Well, that's too bad, but I wouldn't let you—” He kissed her again before pulling back moments later. “Oh, it is cherry.” She quickly turned away, blushing even more. “You are getting bold these days,” she muttered. He laughed before pulling her into his chest.

“I guess I am comfortable with you nowadays,” He whispered to her ear while resting his chin on her shoulders. She blushed even harder. “Y…You need to stop being this bold.” She could feel her heart skipping beats. “What if I don't want to,” he whispered to her ear. She quickly moved away and looked at the television. “Oh my goodness, I missed the whole episode!” She whined. Jongseong laughed. “We can watch it again.” He grabbed the remote and went back to the beginning of the episode.

Ara moved away from Jongseong. He looked at her with his eyebrows slightly raised and paused the episode. “Why are you moving away from me?” She glared at him. “You are being too bold right now.” He grinned before slowly moving closer to her. She moved farther and farther until she hit a dead end. She cursed when she looked behind her. “You are now stuck,” he smirked as he trapped her.

She was blushing like crazy. “I—” He raised his eyebrows. “Lost with words, hm, love?” Before kissing her lips again this time more passionately, longer, but still gentle. Slowly breaking the kiss, he put his forehead on hers. “You are so cute.” She was still in shock from what just happened. “Love, are you still shocked?” He pecked her lips over and over to somehow bring her back to the present. Soon, she quickly breaks from her thoughts. “You are crazy.”

Jongseong laughed a bit before pecking his lips. “I am crazy, but only crazy in love.” They stayed like this for another couple of hours before one of them broke it. “Let's watch your kdrama?” She just gave him a couple of nods. He stood up and rearranged the couch to make it longer. Then he carried Ara to the longer part of the couch. They curled up together as they watched the kdrama.

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[heygirltimeformorning]

sometimes @playinginthunderstorms and I write chatfic to each other as bedtime stories, or just as “here hope you feel better” stories, and yesterday, I wrote Charlie a little hurt/comfort at her request, and I thought the Tumblr might enjoy.

It’s chatfic so it’s a little rough around the edges, and I paid my usual close attention to canon (read: none at all) in writing it.

warnings for Buck getting hit by a car (nothing graphic) and Eddie spiraling about it. Also, if you’re here for porn, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.

It’s tooth-rottingly sweet at the end, so proceed with caution.

*

These kinds of calls, Eddie thinks, are supposed to happen in the middle of the night. That’s what happens in the movies — it’s dark, everyone is in bed, it’s quiet, and there’s a phone ringing that pierces through the quiet. Or, it’s the wash of red and blue lights over the living room, no sirens. Somehow, whoever is getting the news already knows, like the fabric of the universe shifts when their person is in mortal peril. The point is, it’s supposed to happen in the middle of the night.

That’s how, when Eddie is torturing himself late at night with scenarios of losing Buck (he doesn’t let himself think about Buck Like That in the light of day, that feels too honest, but at night, when he’s alone? that’s how he’s thinking of Buck, always), it happens. The reality, though, is that it’s an ordinary Wednesday. It’s their day off. Buck was going to go to the gym, and then he was going to come over and they were going to paint the kitchen. Eddie’s already got the supplies out and a pizza on the way, because Buck had texted him leaving the gym and that meant Eddie had 20 minutes to be ready.

Buck had text him at 12:47pm, and Eddie doesn’t get worried until it’s 2 — a full hour after his text — because it’s LA and who knows what kind of traffic Buck ran into. He does text him a couple times, but Buck has a strict no-texting-while-driving policy, so if he’s stuck in traffic, of course he wouldn’t be answering text messages. Eddie tells himself it’s fine. He talks himself off of several ledges. He paces. He pulls up Taylor Kelly’s traffic report. She reports that traffic is moving as it should be. Something greasy settles into the pit of Eddie’s stomach.

He breaks down and calls Buck at 2:19. Maybe he’s stopped to pick up something he was craving and gotten distracted in the snack aisle. That’s happened before - it’s very on brand for Buck. His phone goes straight to voicemail.

Eddie talks himself through so many scenarios. Buck’s phone had died. His phone had been stolen, and Buck was trying to deal with that and couldn’t call Eddie. Buck’s phone has glitched and isn’t letting Eddie’s calls through.

He calls Buck 17 times between 2:19 and 2:34. Then he calls Bobby, who doesn’t answer, so he calls Maddie, who also doesn’t answer, and then he calls Hen, who does answer, right as Eddie’s call-waiting beeps. He checks it, heart in his throat, and it’s an unknown number. Something tells him to answer. “I’ll call you back,” he tells Hen, and barely waits for her confused “o-okay” before he switches over to the new call. It’s Athena, but the thing is, Eddie has Athena’s number. She’d be calling him on her cell unless — unless —

“Eddie,” she says, and her voice is gentle in a way Eddie’s never heard it before. Eddie’s face is numb. He can’t feel his lips.

“Buck,” he says, and Athena asks if he’s alone. He is. Eddie’s the most alone he’s ever been in his entire life.

Athena tells him to sit down. He’s, somehow, already sitting, on the floor, his back against the couch, but at Athena’s next words, he’s up, off the floor, fumbling keys off the key ring with numb fingers, because Athena says “He’s on his way to Cedars-Sinai, just wait there, I’ll come get you,” but Eddie’s already out the door, vaulting himself into his truck, slamming it into gear and pealing out of his driveway. Athena is still on the phone, but Eddie can’t hear anything but his pulse in his ears. It’s sunny - it’s a brilliant LA day, sunshine and palm trees, and not a cloud in the sky. This is the kind of weather people move to LA for — and it’s wrong, all of it, because if Buck’s —but he can’t let himself go there. not yet. He’ll see what they say at the hospital. He’ll figure it out there. He’ll figure it out. At least Chris isn’t here, at least Chris doesn’t have to witness this, at least Eddie can soften it, a little, control the delivery. That’s a trick from Frank - to look for the silver linings. It makes him feel sick.

Athena meets him at the doors of the ER, hands out, like she’s trying to tame a wild horse. Eddie vaguely registers that Bobby’s there, too, eyes wide in his face. “Eddie, Eddie,” she says, catching him by his shoulders as he tries to rocket past her into the lobby. Through the doors, to Buck. “Eddie, listen to me,” she says, and there’s something maternal enough in her voice that Eddie looks down at her.

Despite Athena’s words, it’s Bobby who speaks, one hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “We can’t see him yet,” he says, sure and steady, and how is Bobby so calm how is the rest of the world still spinning when Buck is — is —

“What happened?” Eddie finally asks, and Athena tilts her head towards the doors of the ER.

“Let’s go in, let’s sit down,” she says, words measured. “Give Bobby your keys, he’ll park your truck. Come on.” Eddie lets Bobby take his keys, lets Athena guide him into the lobby, back — back—

It’s the rooms they put families in when it’s bad. When they have to call the chaplain and the doctor has to come in. Like in the movies, the solemn doctor in the mask and the surgical cap we did everything we could.

“Breathe, Eddie. This is just because cops make people nervous,” Athena says, steering him to one of the chairs. “Sit.” He sits. There’s a bottle of water in his hands, and Athena’s next to him, her hand on his shoulder. “He was leaving the gym,” she says, “walking across the parking lot.”

Eddie’s blood runs cold. He thinks of Shannon in her yellow shirt, of having to make the hardest choice of his entire life. He wants a s’more, suddenly, oddly. “Breathe.” Athena’s voice in his ear. “Take a drink of water.”

“What happened?” Eddie asks again, and Athena sighs. There’s a weight next to him, a warm hand on his other shoulder. Bobby.

“There was a kid on a skateboard, in the street,” Athena says, “shouldn’t have been there. But his skateboard got caught on a pothole, sent him sprawling. Buck ran over there to help, straight into — into oncoming traffic.”

Eddie can’t breathe, because all he can think about is yellow shirts and s’mores. He can’t feel his hands. His lips are numb. Buck wouldn’t do that. Buck was careful, now, more careful than he used to be, after the lightning. He was reckless, but not in the same way - he wouldn’t run into oncoming traffic, unless. Unless. Unless someone needed help. That was the thing about Buck - everyone else came first, all the time.

Athena’s hand is warm on his back, sliding down off his shoulder. “The 126 responded,” she says quietly. “The paramedics said — they don’t know obviously, but they said he was stable, when they left the scene with him.” But Eddie knows. Eddie knows that stable can change between one breath and the next, and that stable just means ‘alive’ and alive is kind of a spectrum.

Bobby and Athena are talking to each other — coordinating calls. Eddie lets the words slide off and around him, pays attention to the rush of blood in his ear, and thinks about silver linings.

It's barely thirty minutes before the doctor comes to find them, a clipboard in his hands. Maddie and Chim have gotten there, and so has Hen. Karen, bless her, has Jee, Mara, and Denny. The doctor starts by saying that Buck is incredibly lucky — that he has a concussion, but no spinal injuries, no brain damage, nothing that can’t be repaired with surgery and some rehab, and Eddie takes the first full breath he’s had since 2pm. The doctor follows up what he calls the good news with the list of injuries Buck has - an arm broken in three places, a torn rotator cuff, a broken hip, a compound femur fracture, a tibia fibula fracture, a nasty concussion, and a wicked case of road rash. He explains that Buck is headed for surgery, but if they want to see him before he goes back, he’s awake.

The room is dim - the lights turned down - and Buck’s certainly had better days. One side of his face is raw with road rash, and Eddie thinks “awake” is a bit of an overstatement, because Buck opens his eyes, sees Eddie in the doorway, and says “I’m glad you’re here” before leaning his head back against the pillows and promptly going to sleep. But it’s sleep, it’s not death, and something unknots in Eddie’s chest. It’s hard to know where to touch Buck — one arm is in a protective sling and the other is raw with road rash — so Eddie settles for a hand on top of Buck’s head and says “I’m glad I’m here, too.” He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until Athena quietly hands him a tissue, and rests a gentle hand on his shoulder.

**

By the time Buck is out of surgery, it’s late. Eddie still hasn’t told Chris - not like he’d text him back anyway - and it’s too late to text him once Buck’s settled in his room and resting quietly. It’s just him and Buck — he can’t bring himself to leave, to let Buck be by himself. It’s nearly 4 in the morning, and Eddie has dozed off in the chair next to Buck’s, his head resting on his arms, folded on the bed, when Buck stirs, a grimace ghosting over his face, lifting one arm and resting it on the back of Eddie’s head.

Eddie sits up with a grimace of his own, back stiff, Buck’s hand falling to the bed. Eddie rests a hand over Buck’s wrist, feels the steady thud of his pulse under his fingers. Buck’s eyes slide open, meet Eddie’s. “Time’s’it?” he asks, and the scrape of his voice against his dry throat has Eddie reaching for the water the nurse had left, holding the straw to Buck’s lips.

“Late,” Eddie says in response to Buck’s question. “Or — early, maybe, depending.” He sets the water aside, and then he’s looking at Buck and Buck’s looking at him, gaze heavy and half-lidded. “Buck—“ he says, but then the nurse is coming in with the rattle of a vitals cart and medication.

Buck’s half-asleep once the nurse is finished with her middle-of-the-night tasks, and in the dim of the hospital room, with Buck mostly asleep but whole and real in front of him, the rules Eddie holds himself to all the time don’t feel as real. He tells himself that it’s reassurance he needs when he rests a hand on the top of Buck’s head, smooths his thumb over Buck’s birthmark. Buck’s eyes slide open and he turns into Eddie’s touch. “Eddie,” he says, voice thick and heavy with sleep and medication and the concussion.

“Yeah, cowboy?” Eddie says quietly, but Buck’s eyes are sliding closed and he’s asleep in the space between one breath and the next.

It’s a full 24-hours before Buck can have an actual conversation. Eddie’s still in the clothes he was going to paint in. He can’t bring himself to leave, despite everyone trying to coax him to go home and shower and change. Eddie ignores them. He can’t leave, because the second he leaves, he knows all he’s going to be able to think about is Shannon and Buck and the universe being determined to take away the people he loves the most. The universe may not scream, but apparently it has it out for anyone Eddie Diaz loves.

Pretty much the entire right side of Buck’s body — the side the car hit — is smashed into pieces, and Buck is, unfortunately, right handed, which makes everything more difficult. After the fourth time Buck dumps a spoonful of jello into his lap, thanks to a clumsily coordinated left hand, Eddie takes the spoon. “You’re wearing more than you’re getting in your mouth, buddy,” he says dryly. “And you’ve already spilled enough to get the nurse to give you a sponge bath, if that was your goal. Open up — don’t make me make the plane noises.”

Buck grumbles his way through being fed — literally — and Eddie teases him the whole time — I should be taking videos for Chris or I don’t know why we didn’t do this sooner, I feel like we could have saved that one white shirt you lost to the lasagna. “Buck,” he says, after they’re finished, because Buck seems more alert now, and Buck looks over at him. “I know — I know we’ve talked about putting yourself in danger.”

“This wasn’t me putting myself in danger,” Buck says immediately, because he may not remember the accident itself, but Athena had filled him in and, after being reassured that the kid was fine, Buck had said well no harm no foul and Eddie’s been turning that over in his head over and over ever since.

Because this had been harm. Buck hadn’t died — thankfully. By some miracle, he had survived, but to say no harm when Buck is in a hospital bed unable to even feed himself felt wrong. “You ran into traffic, Buck,” Eddie says. “You didn’t even — you ran into traffic. In LA, that could be considered suicidal.”

Buck frowns. “Eddie, I’m not—“ he starts, and Eddie shakes his head.

“I know you wouldn’t,” Eddie says. “I know that’s not what you were thinking. But Buck, you weren’t thinking. You still think you’re — expendable. Like you’re only worth what you are to other people.” Eddie pauses. Let’s that settle, because he means that, and he’s edging closer to something that feels a little too true to be said out loud — that Buck is everything to him, that Chris and Buck are the most important people in his life.

“Eddie, I couldn’t just … leave him,” Buck says, and there’s something a little hurt in it, and Eddie sighs, because he knows. He knows. Buck will set himself on fire to keep others warm — will literally run into oncoming traffic to help someone.

“But you almost left me,” Eddie says, very quietly. It’s scary. It’s terrifying, even, to put it out there like that. To think of him and Buck as a unit, something that can be pulled apart, that he’s important enough in Buck’s life to be left. “Buck, I — I couldn’t —“ he thinks back to it, those moments building up to Athena’s call, the drive to the hospital, sitting in a waiting room, not knowing where on the “alive” spectrum Buck fell. There’s something untethered in those moments - the not knowing, like drowning on dry land.

Buck’s so still and so quiet at Eddie’s words that for a minute, Eddie thinks he’s fallen asleep. He looks up at him, and Buck’s just watching him, like Eddie’s just announced he has an evil twin. “I’m sorry,” he says finally, and Eddie wipes at his eyes, because he’s crying, suddenly.

“Chris needs you,” Eddie says, and that’s true, but what he means is I need you. “I thought I was going to have to call him and tell him you were dead, Buck,” he adds. He doesn’t say for a minute I thought you were dead and I couldn’t breathe but he does reach out and squeeze Buck’s wrist, fingers against his pulse. “You have to think of yourself like — like I do,” he says finally, and Buck nods, once.

Eddie almost says it then, can feel it, right on the tip of his tongue, I love you and Buck’s looking at him, and if this has taught Eddie anything, it’s that tomorrow might be too late — but then the nurse is there, and the moment shatters between them. Instead, Eddie makes a joke about sponge baths, and steps out to get a cup of coffee, and thinks about being in love with his best friend.

**

Buck comes home with Eddie, because of course he does. Maddie initially tries to insist he comes home with her, but Buck gives Eddie help me eyes while Maddie is talking about him coming home with her, and he steps in, and says, really, it’ll be easier for Buck to come home with him, because the house is already set up for someone with mobility issues (Chris) and with Chris not currently there, Eddie would appreciate the company. It isn’t a lie, and when Buck says “yeah, Mads, I’ll just go home with Eddie,” Maddie throws up her hands and says fine, have it your way but there’s a fondness in her exasperation.

It takes an act of god and congress to get Buck into the house, and he half collapses on the couch, leaning his head back with a groan. “The doctors are just going to have to come here,” he says, “because I’m not leaving again until I can actually walk.” Something warm blooms in Eddie’s chest at Buck’s inadvertent admission that this is his home — because it is, it is his home — and he lines the medication bottles up on the counter, fixing Buck something to eat. Buck smiles at him when he brings him the food, setting the plate where Buck can reach it and busying himself fussing with Buck’s pillows. “You aren’t going to feed me this time?” Buck asks, amused, and Eddie says it without thinking, tucking a pillow under Buck’s knee: “maybe I want to give you a sponge bath.” He freezes, and Buck freezes, and Eddie eventually straightens up slowly, resting his hands on his hips. Buck’s just kind of staring straight ahead, blue eyes a little wide, and Eddie clears his throat.

There’s a long silence, and then Buck adjusts his position on the couch and clears his throat. “I did want to ask,” he says carefully, while Eddie’s standing there, his brain blue screening, “if you’d help me shave.” He looks up at Eddie through his lashes, and Eddie swallows heavily. It shouldn’t read as flirting. It isn’t flirting, it can’t be. But it does. It would have been less sexually charged if Buck had asked Eddie to suck his cock.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, voice a little rough. “Yeah, bud- buddy. I can. I can do that.” He rubs a hand through his hair. Buck is here because he needs help, because he’s been hit by a car and half of him is smashed to pieces.

The thing about shaving Buck is that, aside from straddling him, there’s really no perfect angle to shave him. Of course, Eddie’s not going to straddle Buck (he’s not) but he does spend a good five minutes circling Buck, trying to find the best angle. They settle on Buck sitting in one of the dining room chairs, eyes closed as Eddie rubs the shaving cream into Buck’s skin, and Eddie’s so close, he could kiss him. Buck’s eyelashes are long and soft against his cheek, and his mouth is very slightly open, and he’s so beautiful it hurts.

Eddie has been aware of his feelings for Buck. He doesn’t typically allow himself to feel them, except for when he’s alone and it’s dark in his house. Buck had been in a relationship, and then Buck had been recovering from a relationship, and Eddie didn’t particularly care to detonate a bomb in his life by confessing undying love. So to scrape the razor against Buck’s face and think about how beautiful he is, it’s not new. Not in the thinking anyway, it’s just that Buck is very rarely (read: never) sitting in front of him when he allows himself to have those thoughts. He rinses the razor, rests his thumb on Buck’s cheek, pulls the skin taught, and he thinks he imagines it for a moment, the turn of Buck’s face into his touch, like they’re magnets, like Buck is touch-starved.

But he isn’t imagining it, because it happens again when Eddie half-cups Buck’s face to tilt his head and scrape the razor against his jaw. Buck turns into Eddie’s touch, like a cat, and his eyes are closed, and it can’t be intentional, right? There’s no way. But Eddie slides his fingers into the curls behind Buck’s ear, nails scraping lightly against his scalp, and Buck inhales, so quietly Eddie almost misses it, and leans back into Eddie’s touch. Eddie smooths his thumb up Buck’s cheek, and it’s not anything related to shaving anymore, it’s just touch, and then Buck’s eyes open and Eddie isn’t moving. They’re inches apart, Eddie still holding the razor with his free hand, but close enough that all it would take is a lean in from either of them and they’d be kissing. “Eddie,” Buck breathes, and Eddie thinks about the moment he’d thought Buck was dead, when Athena had asked if he was sitting down. Because Eddie’s been through it before: the loss. The way it washes through you, the way you think you’re coming to the end of it, only to find a brand new wave of hurt. He knows what it feels like, to lose. And yet. Losing Shannon felt like losing a limb: survivable. Painful, yes. Unimaginable, of course. But survivable, ultimately. Losing Buck felt like having his heart cut out, something he could not survive. A total loss. Something that would kill him.

It makes him brave. It makes him willing to risk, because he’d thought — for a moment, for a handful of moments — that Buck had died without knowing how Eddie felt. He owes Buck the truth — he owes it to him to be brave. So he sets the razor down, and Buck tracks the movement, blue eyes following the razor to the table, and then flickering back to Eddie’s eyes. Eddie wipes the residual shaving cream from Buck’s face, sets the washcloth aside, and then he cups Buck’s face in both of his hands — gently, but insistently — and he closes the space between them, sealing his lips against Buck’s.

Buck doesn’t react at first. His lips are soft and dry under Eddie’s and then he sucks in a very quiet breath and kisses Eddie back. When the kiss breaks, Buck looks like he might say something, but Eddie shakes his head. “I need to say something,” he says. “And — I need to get through this in one go.” Buck’s eyes are wide and blue on his, and Eddie’s heart squeezes. “Athena called me,” Eddie says, “and told me you’d been hurt. I couldn’t — breathe, Buck, I thought you were dead. I thought. I thought you had died, and when I thought you’d died, do you know what I thought about? That — I couldn’t be in a world where you didn’t — where I hadn’t told you how I felt. How I feel.” He braces himself, looking Buck dead-on. “I’m in love with you, Buck. I’ve been in love with you for a long time — at least a year. Maybe more. Being in love with you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done — and when I thought you — when I thought you were dead, Buck, I couldn’t breathe. You’re one of the two most important people in my life, and I love you.”

Buck is quiet, watching Eddie crack open his heart and pour it out, and when Eddie stops talking, Buck is crying, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Eddie,” he breathes, and Eddie leans in to kiss him again. They’re kissing and, in between kisses, Buck is gasping it out — I love you, I love you, I love you — soft and precious and built to last.

[gremlinshatephilosophers]

I was listening to Hozier and I liked how "Sunlight" and "Wasteland, Baby!" worked together. So I wrote a little story about Dan and Phil and the very slow and deceptively normal end of the world.

Wasteland, Baby (I'm in love with you)

Rating: T • Words: 3,570

I've put the intro below:

The world ends on a Thursday. 

It also ended on Wednesday, and all the Tuesdays and Mondays and Sundays before that. It ends every day, every hour, every minute as time passes and another city drowns or burns without fanfare. Because the end of the world isn’t announced by angels with trumpets, or flesh-rotting zombies. Nor is it prefaced by gunshots and riots, burning cars and signal flares. People still go to work every day, because everything is remarkably normal, aside from the pervasive threat of death. The Earth’s demise is a slow and quiet one, as much as any apocalypse can be.  

The first time the world ended might have been yesterday, or it might have been a hundred years ago, depending on who you ask. Did it begin when Edison and Tesla squabbled over electric currents, a reflection of Prometheus’ sin? Did it begin with Oppenheimer, and Truman, and nuclear warfare which decimated cities with a single word? Perhaps the end of the world started with the invention of the car, or the computer, or of generative artificial intelligence; humans developing unsustainable technologies to propel them to wealth and efficiency at the expense of their children’s future. One might look instead toward corporate greed, at private jets and oil drilling. After all, they knew that there was never enough water to cool the computers, never enough trees to filter out the polluted air. 

Damp toes and ash-filled lungs were fine, most of the time. There had always been rain, and pollution, and natural disasters that menaced far flung corners of the globe for a five minute segment on the nightly news. For those who had the privilege to never question the airplanes above their heads or whether they could drink the water from the tap, the world first ended sometime around ten or twenty years ago. Somehow, the rise of fascism and malicious disinformation hadn’t been the breaking point - what was the truth if not a hollow vessel for one’s own political aims, after all? 

But it was hard to ignore the heat of the fires, even through rose-colored glasses. In California, there has always been a “fire season.” But for cities like Los Angeles, fire season had become the scorched earth of inferno season - a season which lasted not three, but ten months of the year - and the brushfire dry spells had taken up residence in New York instead. In London summers, the rain had all but dried up, adopting a heavily seasonal pattern that it hadn’t prepared for. There was grumbling about installing air con, but who would trade away warm and sunny days for that endless drizzle again?

Of course, mother nature was not one to forget her karmic tradeoffs - with every California fire came a flood to end it and more. And the floods were not just a balm for the burn, but an overwhelming monsoon season that oversaturated the soil, spilling out for weeks until there were no visible roads within fifty miles of any coastline. 

The coastline had experienced a makeover too; the sea did its fair share and rose to meet those parched cities. Amsterdam and New Orleans were inevitable casualties predicted well before a drop of rain had ever fallen and inspired no international mourning as such. New York, Hong Kong, London - the slick pavement instilled fear there for a moment, until the millions in residence bought taller boots. 

The world was burning, drowning, quaking, starving - but you weren’t. You, who turned on the TV once the power company fixed the wires after another blackout and saw how beautiful Norwegian summers had become. You, who watched the BBC interview a poor woman whose house had washed away in Brighton, reminding her that if she’d simply worked harder when she knew this day was inevitable, she would’ve had the money to move someplace nicer and rebuild her house. You, who laced up your rain boots in the winter and sloshed down to the supermarket for a pallet of plastic water bottles before they ran out. It wasn’t your fault that things flooded and burned for those less fortunate, it wasn’t your fault that thousands died every summer in a heat wave - who could stop the sun itself

The world was ending, and nobody else had tried to stop it before it was too late.

[helsgcddess]

— VEILED SPARKS; iii

READ ON AO3 || PINTEREST BOARD (in the works)

summary: "You should be more careful about what you draw, Toria." In which an artist with a knack for seeing things she shouldn't meets a suspiciously perfect stranger with glowing blue eyes and a possessive yellow Camaro. Set during ROTF.

pairing: bumblebee/original character

word count: 3.1k

a/n— y'all.... the way this chapter wrote itself?? like one minute i was like "lets write toria being high and gay panicking about brooks" and suddenly it's 4am and i have 3k words of her being a disaster??? also yes, jayde ( @morbid-personality ) is absolutely going to be the "what if he's a robot tho" friend and honestly? we love her for it. also also, bumblebee needs to chill with the stalking but like... he won't bc he's Like That (chapter 4 might come sooner than expected bc these two won't leave me alone send help)

warnings — weed use, anxiety/mental health stuff, vague mission city references, highly questionable coping mechanisms

I slapped at my phone when the alarm blared. "Shut up, shut up, yeah, I got it!" I groaned as I finally hit the snooze button. The sunlight streaming through my window illuminated the sketches I'd stayed up way too late working on—pages and pages of impossible blue eyes and edges that didn't quite match reality.

Why had I decided to wake up at 9 am?

My brain slowly pieced together yesterday's events as I stumbled out of bed: broken down Chevelle, suspiciously perfect stranger, weird fog-shrouded maybe-stalking, and—

I froze, hand halfway to the shower knob. My car—my dad's car—was supposedly somewhere "safe." According to the cryptic text from an unknown number who apparently had opinions about my sketching habits.

Oh fuck. I was going to have to deal with that after therapy. And somehow not tell my therapist about the return of my post-Mission City paranoia, now with bonus government-adjacent stalkers and cars that moved like they were alive.

I groaned but stepped into the shower, letting the water blast away some of my racing thoughts. After two washes of my hair, I let the conditioner sit while I contemplated how exactly one explains "I think my dad's military projects are haunting me via an impossibly attractive maybe-human" without getting committed.

"Okay, Toria. It's just therapy. You'll do fine," I whispered to myself as I rinsed my hair out and stepped out of the shower. "Just don't tell her anything about him or the car or—" I caught my reflection's eye. "Wait, how are we even getting to therapy?"

I called my best friend after brushing my teeth. She answered on the first ring. "What's up, bitch?" She coughed into the phone. "Sorry, just did a dab."

"You good if I steal your car to take to therapy? I'll pay you in cannoli," I offered as I checked the weather. I grabbed shorts from my clean laundry basket, along with a black sports bra and a Hawaiian button-up that had definitely been Dad's at some point.

"Only if I can smoke you up after therapy," Jayde replied. "You sound like you need it. Something weird happen at the café again?"

"You could say that." I tucked my sketchbook into my bag, deliberately not looking at last night's drawings. "Deal. Be there in 20."

"Love you," then she hung up.

I laced my steel toes, grabbed my smokes off the counter, and headed into the California heat. My thumb ring caught the sunlight as I twisted it—a nervous habit that had gotten worse since mysterious hot strangers started texting me about my art.

I took the long way to Jayde's place, walking by the pier to get slapped in the face by the smell of salt and ocean. Every yellow car I passed made my heart skip, but none of them were that impossibly pristine Camaro. Not that I was looking.

I paused at the coffee shop by her place, picking up our usual: Red Bull infusions with pomegranate and blueberry syrup, topped with half and half. The caffeine-sugar bomb we'd perfected during our brief stint as art school roommates before... everything.

It wasn't until I lit my cigarette, trying to calm my pre-therapy jitters, that my phone vibrated.

Unknown Number: Your car will be parked at your apartment in time for your shift.

I dropped my lighter in the ocean. "No, fuck! Ugh." I groaned, watching my last lighter disappear into the waves. Perfect. Because this day needed to get more complicated.

My phone buzzed again.

Unknown Number: Also, the alternator wasn't the only thing that needed fixing. You're welcome.

"Oh, that's not ominous at all," I muttered, taking a long drag of my cigarette. "Totally normal to have a suspiciously perfect stranger doing unauthorized repairs on your dead dad's car."

A yellow Volkswagen Beetle drove past, and I nearly choked on smoke before realizing it wasn't the same shade of yellow. Wrong car, wrong driver, wrong... everything.

I threw my half-finished cigarette back into my pack and headed up the creaky steps to Jayde's apartment. The whole building smelled like weed and beach air—pretty much Jayde's signature scent since high school.

She opened the door before I could knock, practically bouncing despite being high. "There's my favorite disaster! One slightly beat-up Civic at your service." She grabbed her drink and took a long sip. "Now spill. What happened to your car? The Chevelle's like, your baby."

"Alternator died," I said, following her into her mess of an apartment. Art supplies competed with bong collections for surface space, and her walls were covered in our collaborative pieces from school. "Some guy helped me out."

"Some guy?" Her eyebrows shot up. "Like, a cute guy? A mysterious guy? A—"

"A guy who apparently knows how to fix cars and sends cryptic texts," I cut her off, pulling out my phone. "Look."

Jayde read the messages, her eyes widening. "Okay, that's either really sweet or really serial killer-y. There's no in-between." She paused. "Is he hot though?"

I thought about impossible blue eyes and too-perfect movements. "That's... complicated."

"Oh my god, he is." She grinned. "You're doing that thing where you want to draw someone but can't quite get them right. Show me your sketches."

"Absolutely not." I snatched her car keys from their hook. "I'm already late for therapy."

"Fine, keep your mysterious hot car guy secrets!" she called after me. "But we're totally talking about this when you get back!"

I slid into Jayde's Civic, immediately assaulted by the smell of weed and her vanilla air freshener. At least it wasn't as pristine as... certain other cars I'd been in recently.

The radio crackled to life when I turned the key—some pop station Jayde always left it on. Not classic rock, not engine purrs that sounded like speech. Just normal car stuff. Totally fine.

"Get it together, Toria," I muttered, pulling onto the street. "You've got exactly forty-five minutes to figure out how to talk about your week without mentioning glowing eyes or mysteriously repaired cars."

My phone buzzed in the cup holder. I definitely didn't swerve checking to see if it was another cryptic text.

Just Mom: Don't forget to ask about upping your anxiety meds!!!

I snorted. Yeah, because that conversation would go great. 'Hey doc, I think I need stronger meds because I keep seeing weird lights like in Mission City, and a suspiciously perfect stranger knows things about Dad's car, and I can't stop drawing his impossibly symmetrical face.'

The traffic light turned yellow—just yellow, not that specific shade that kept haunting me—and I tried to focus on normal therapy topics. Work stress? Safe. Mom's hovering? Classic. The fact that I hadn't touched my college applications since Dad died? Definitely therapist-approved discussion material.

Strange men who moved like machinery and knew things about classified military projects? Maybe save that for next session.

The parking lot of Dr. Clarke's office looked exactly like it always did: half-full with sensible cars belonging to people with probably sensible problems. Not a yellow Camaro in sight. Not that I was checking.

I grabbed my sketchbook out of habit—Dr. Clarke encouraged "artistic expression during sessions" or whatever—then immediately shoved it back in my bag. Yeah, maybe not today's sketches.

The waiting room was its usual study in beige calm, complete with generic watercolor paintings and magazines from three years ago. The receptionist, Amy, gave me her usual sympathetic smile. Everyone here still had that same look since Mission City, like they were waiting for me to crack.

"Dr. Clarke's running a few minutes behind," she said. "But she'll be right with you."

I slumped into my usual chair, twisting my ring and definitely not thinking about how Brooks had known things about Dad. About the base. About—

"Toria?" Dr. Clarke appeared in her doorway, clipboard in hand and reading glasses perched on her nose. "Ready to come in?"

Her office was familiar at least—walls lined with psychology degrees and children's artwork, the leather couch that had witnessed two years of my post-Mission City processing, the view of the bay that was supposed to be calming or whatever.

"So," she said as I settled into my usual spot, "how has your week been?"

I opened my mouth, closed it, then laughed. "That's... kind of complicated."

"Complicated how?" Dr. Clarke asked, settling into her chair with that perfect therapist posture. She probably didn't have to worry about mysterious men fixing her car or sending cryptic texts.

"Well," I started, focusing on the safe parts, "the café's been busy. Mom's stress-baking again. And my car broke down, which is... yeah."

"The Chevelle?" Her pen paused over her notepad. "Your father's car?"

I twisted my ring. "Yeah. Alternator issues."

"And how did that make you feel?" Classic Dr. Clarke, always with the feelings.

"Honestly?" I stared out at the bay, watching fog roll in. "It felt like losing him all over again. Like—" I stopped, remembering Brooks' words about the car attracting attention. About Dad's classified work.

"Like what, Toria?"

"Like maybe some things should stay broken." The words came out before I could stop them.

Dr. Clarke's eyebrows rose slightly. "That's an interesting perspective. What makes you say that?"

I thought about the text messages burning a hole in my phone. About the way Brooks had looked at me like he knew things—about Dad, about Mission City, about everything.

"Sometimes I think..." I chose my words carefully, "Maybe Dad was trying to protect me from something. With all those classified projects he never talked about."

Dr. Clarke shifted in her chair, a subtle movement that meant we'd hit Something Important. "Your paranoia about Mission City—has it been getting worse?"

I focused on a particularly boring watercolor on her wall. "Not... exactly." Lie. "It's just—" I twisted my ring again. "The whispers are back."

That got her full attention. The whispers had been my first symptom after Mission City—constant theories about what I'd seen, about Dad's work, about the lights and sounds that didn't make sense.

"The same whispers as before?"

"Different," I said carefully. "Less about what happened then, more about..." I thought about Brooks' impossible movements, about engines that sounded alive, about texts that knew too much. "More about what might still be happening."

"Can you elaborate?”

"You'll think I'm crazy." I laughed, but it came out shaky.

"Toria," her voice went gentle, "we've talked about this. Your reactions to trauma—"

"It's not trauma this time," I interrupted, then winced. "I mean, yeah, obviously there's trauma, but this is..." I gestured vaguely. "This feels real."

The clock on her wall ticked loudly, reminding me we were almost out of time. Thank god.

"Have you been taking your medications regularly?"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Yes. And before you ask, I'm sleeping. Eating. Working. Being a functional human despite my various mental health issues." I stood up, gathering my bag. "The whispers are probably nothing. Just stress about the car."

Dr. Clarke gave me that look—the one that said she didn't believe me but couldn't prove it. "Same time next week?"

"Yeah," I said, already halfway to the door. "Assuming mysterious car trouble doesn't get in the way."

I took the coastal route back to Jayde's, windows down and music up—trying to drown out both Dr. Clarke's concerned voice and my own paranoid whispers. The salt air helped, even if every flash of yellow in my peripheral vision made my heart jump.

Until one of those flashes wasn't just my imagination.

The yellow Camaro was parked at the pier, looking impossibly pristine against the backdrop of tourist shops and street vendors. No Brooks in sight, but something about the way the car was angled—like it was watching the road—made me grip Jayde's steering wheel tighter.

"Nope," I said out loud, definitely not looking at how the sunlight hit the black racing stripes. "We are not doing this. We are going to smoke with our best friend and not think about hot guys with government secrets or their stalker cars."

I pulled into Jayde's parking lot, killing the engine just as my phone buzzed.

Unknown Number: Your artistic talent is impressive.

Unknown Number: But maybe focus on drawing something less classified.

I stared at my bag, where my sketchbook was definitely closed and definitely hidden.

"How the fuck—" I started to mutter, when another text came through.

Unknown Number: The Chevelle's waiting at your apartment. Try not to break it again.

I practically ran up Jayde's stairs, bursting into her apartment where she was already setting up her favorite bong—the one we'd painted with glow-in-the-dark stars during finals week.

"Here," Jayde said, passing me the bong and her favorite drawing pencils—the ones we'd stolen from art school before I dropped out. "Smoke this and draw something that isn't government-spy-boyfriend for five minutes."

I took another hit, letting my hand move across a blank page without thinking. Somehow it still turned into those impossible blue eyes.

"I can't stop drawing him," I groaned, flopping back against her couch. "Like, my brain is just... full of him? His stupid perfect face and the way he moves like... like he's never quite figured out how bodies are supposed to work but somehow it's still hot?"

Jayde snorted, taking the bong back. "You're so high right now."

"No but listen," I sat up too fast, sending colored pencils scattering. "He shows up in this ridiculous car that probably costs more than my entire life, looking like some government catalog's idea of the perfect human, and then he just... knows things? About Dad? About my car? And sends these cryptic texts like he's watching me but somehow it's not creepy? Okay it's a little creepy but—" I paused for another hit, "—okay but he's so fucking hot though."

"There it is!" Jayde cackled. "I was wondering when we'd get to the thirsty part of this crisis."

I grabbed a handful of Jayde's Doritos, still sketching with my free hand. "It's not fair. Like, who told him he could look like that? While also being all mysterious and probably dangerous and definitely involved in whatever classified shit got Dad killed and—" I stared at my newest sketch. "Oh my god, I'm drawing him again."

"Girl, you've got it bad," Jayde laughed, taking the sketchbook. "Damn though, if this is accurate..." She tilted her head at the drawing. "Wait, are his eyes actually this blue? That's not natural."

"Nothing about him is natural," I mumbled around a mouthful of chips. "He's like... too perfect? Like someone tried to design the hottest possible person but forgot humans are supposed to have flaws."

"Maybe he's an android," Jayde suggested, reaching for the bong again. "Like, a really hot android sent to protect you because of your dad's secret government work."

I started laughing and couldn't stop. "Oh my god, what is my life? I'm sitting here, high as fuck, crushing on some maybe-not-human guy who keeps fixing my car and judging my art choices."

"Speaking of your car," Jayde checked her phone, "don't you have a shift at four?"

"Shit," I sat up, the world spinning slightly. "Mom's gonna kill me if I show up high again."

"Drink water first," Jayde said, tossing me a bottle. "And take these." She handed me her emergency sunglasses—the ones we'd decorated with little stars during our last art school all-nighter. "You look absolutely blasted."

"Love you," I mumbled, gathering my stuff and trying not to forget anything important. Like my dignity. Or my ability to walk straight.

"Text me if hot government boy shows up at the café!" Jayde called after me. "I want to know if his face is really that symmetrical in daylight!"

I was halfway down her stairs when my phone buzzed.

Unknown Number: The walk from Powell Street to your apartment has fewer surveillance cameras. Take that route.

Unknown Number: And maybe wear sunglasses. You look... relaxed.

"Oh my god," I whispered to my phone, torn between mortified and impressed. "Are you actually stalking me or just really committed to this mysterious protector aesthetic?"

Another buzz.

Unknown Number: Both. Be safe, Toria.

"Fuck," I muttered, shoving on Jayde's sunglasses and heading toward Powell Street like a good, obedient disaster. "He's so hot when he's being creepy."

I took the suggested route home, only slightly paranoid about every yellow car I saw (which, being high, was probably more than actually existed). The sunglasses helped with both the sun and my dignity, even if I kept wanting to sketch the way light bounced off passing windshields.

My apartment was exactly how I'd left it—organized chaos of art supplies and half-empty coffee cups. But there, visible from my window, sat the Chevelle. Looking... better? The paint seemed shinier, and something about it felt more alive.

"Nope," I told my reflection as I changed into my work clothes. "That's the weed talking. Cars don't look 'more alive.' Get it together."

I threw my hair up in a messy bun, switched to my café-approved black t-shirt, and tried to look less like I'd just spent the afternoon getting supremely baked while drawing a suspiciously perfect stranger.

My phone buzzed again as I was applying eye drops.

Unknown Number: Your mother's making that fusion dessert again. Might want to hurry.

"Okay, that's just showing off now," I muttered, but grabbed my bag faster. Mom's culinary experiments were legendary for all the wrong reasons, and I really didn't need to add 'death by experimental tiramisu' to my growing list of concerns.

I hesitated at my door, staring at my sketchbook. After a moment's debate, I shoved it in my bag. Something told me today's shift wasn't going to be boring.

The walk to the café felt different somehow—maybe because I was still slightly high, or maybe because I kept catching glimpses of yellow in my peripheral vision. But this time, instead of anxiety, each flash just made me want to reach for my sketchbook.

Mom was indeed in the kitchen when I arrived, surrounded by what looked like an unholy union of cannoli and mochi. I quietly rescued the latest batch before it could become a health code violation.

"Oh, tesoro!" She brightened when she saw me. "Did you see? The Chevelle's fixed! Such nice work too—almost like new! Did you find a mechanic? How much do we owe—"

"Let's not worry about that right now," I cut her off, tying my apron and definitely not thinking about mysterious car repairs. "Friday night rush is starting."

I made it through the first hour of my shift almost normally. Almost. Right up until I glanced out the window and saw a yellow Camaro parked across the street, its engine humming just loud enough for me to hear through the dinner rush chaos.

My phone buzzed one last time.

Unknown Number: You look better when you smile.

Unknown Number: Even if it's because you're still slightly high.

"Well," I muttered, tucking my phone away and fighting back a grin, "this should be an interesting shift."

[honeybeeloxs]

SWEATER VEST

Ethan Landry x Male Reader

I wrote this at like 3 AM yesterday night and forgot to post it.

SUMMARY:

SPOILERS FOR SCREAM 6

The first kill you get is an accident, and you call Ethan to help you cover up the crime, only to find Quinn and Detective Bailey there as well.

Y/N didn’t mean to kill him; he attacked and corned you, so you took Ethan's butterfly knife and stabbed him repeatedly. Y/N felt sick; he didn’t know how many times he stabbed him, Fourteen? Twenty-two? Or maybe even Six times, but all he knows is you needed to get the body out of sight; you’re shocked no one heard him. It’s in the middle of an alley Y/N walked through just to get to the Frat Party quicker, panicking he needed to call someone. Y/N couldn’t call Anika, his best friend, because she would freak out and call the police, but he could call his boyfriend, Ethan.

Y/N was dragging the body further into the alley, trying to get it away from the public eye; he was terrified when he saw car headlights making his face glow. He paused, didn't know what to do. Y/N could play it off like his friend passed out drunk, but that wouldn't work; well, the stab wounds on his body, your baby blue sweater stained with crimson, and the car door slammed shut. Y/N saw Ethan; Y/N was happy he was here; however, he didn’t expect him to bring his father, Detective Bailey, and his sister, Quinn.

Y/N sighed, wobbling to Ethan before he hugged him while looking at the body. “Holy shit, I thought you were joking, Ethan.” Quinn snarkily comments. He confesses to Ethan that he didn’t mean to kill him, “It’s okay, Y/N.” he says while wiping tears off his face. “Okay, wrap this body up, and let's get him in the trunk.” Wayne roars; Y/N’s white pants are covered in blood. Y/N got into the backseat of the car and stared off into space while Quinn and her father chatted about their plan to kill off the Carpenters.

“Y/N.” Ethan pulled him out of his thoughts; who's looking at you and brushing your hair out of your bloody face. “Blood really makes you look pretty.” he blurts out, and Quinn cackles. “Get a room.” but she can barely finish the sentence without howling. Ethan scowls and yells at her, resulting in a bicker between them.

Y/N tugged at his sweater, examining the blood stains while Ethan put his arm around Y’N’s shoulder and pulled him in, “Don’t worry, we can wash it, blood probably will stain it, but we can fix it.” he exclaimed as he nuzzled his face into Y/N’s neck. “You did a good job handling the body Y/N.” Ethan communicated with him.

“Yeah, I gotta hand it to you, Y/N; you did a good job killing him,” chuckles Wayne through the rearview mirror; Y/N could only smile at him; Wayne was like a parental figure. He was the only one there for Y/N, and he was so glad when you started dating Ethan, another family member is a good thing. Y/N felt euphoric. It felt like he finally fit in with Ethan’s family, they all loved him, and Ethan was a fantastic lover; he always complimented you after killing someone and always gave you help on homework. Just thinking about it made Y/N blush.

The car ride was long, and they needed to dump the body; Ethan saw he was visibly uncomfortable, so Wayne dropped you two off a block away from the party; you can pass the blood off on your clothes as fake. It’s Halloween; people can believe it. Ethan’s Halloween costume was cute and dorky. No one could suspect him of being a killer. “Y/N, calm down, okay? No one will find out.” Ethan whispers to you, and you nod slowly.

“Hey, Y/N! Over here!” Anika calls out from across the room; as you get closer, she sees the blood. “Are you okay? Do you need us to take you to the hospital?” Anika cries, and you shake your head and say you're fine; you couldn’t find the Halloween costume you wanted, so you just poured ‘fake’ blood on your clothes. Seeing Tara with a frat guy, a well-known date raper, you walk back to Ethan and kiss his cheek as he talks to Chad; distracted, Ethan shoves you and heads upstairs. He is tasered in the balls by Tara's sister, ending the fight. Ethan puts his arm around your bloody sweater, “Wanna return to my dorm?” he smirks, and you roll your eyes. “Sure, Ethan.” Y/N giggled at him, removed his costume hat, and put it on his head.

You really do love him. Once you two get privacy, tell him you will help them kill the Carpenters; he’s happy and chuckles before kissing you. “I love you, Y/N,” Ethan says as he hugs you. “I know,” you said, smiling.

[wildemaven]

A Quick Photo

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader 

WC: 680

Warnings: 18+; Allusions to sex

A/N: I saw these photos on my dash and wrote a little something for them. This is set after Honeymoon in the Saturdays with Javier verse. This is a poor attempt at smut-ish again, it is what it is. I just love these two so much! I am also realizing I need some sort of name or nickname for Reader now cause it think it’s about damn time... 

Series Masterlist / Main 

“Will you stay still!”

“I am.” His voice laced with mischief.

“Javi! Stay still! They’re going to come out blurry!”

His hands grab at you again, and again you swat them away, trying to refocus your lens on him.

*Click*

*Wind*

*

Settling back home after the trip was an adjustment for the first few days.

Unpacking, washing laundry, cleaning out the car-- on top of situating back into the normal routine of life.

After breakfast you spent some time tidying up the bedroom picking up yesterdays clothes and fixing the bedsheets. Grabbing the stack of decorative pillows off the sitting chair in the corner, you noticed your camera had yet to be put away after unpacking.

Tossing the pillows onto the bed with out thought, you picked up the camera and noticed it still had a few frames left on the roll—  eager to get it developed to relive your trip all over again.

Hearing the sound of your husband in the other room had you thinking of just how to use up the rest of the  roll.

*

“C’mere—” His large hands grabbing unsuccessfully, sliding across your bare thighs as you jump back out of his reach.

“Not until you let me finish this roll! Now, please Javi, don’t move.”

He surrenders ands stands there, as still as can be in his snug white henley shirt, top few buttons undone and sleeves pushed up the width of his forearms.

He looks stunning like this. The natural light from the window hitting him just right— his features perfect and enticing. You can’t help but selflessly want a few photos of just him.

“Stop looking so…broody Javier.”

Furrowing his brows at your comment. “How am I looking broody? I’m just standing here.”

“Your face— you look all “I’m Javier Peña and I’m tough” like.” You say in a deep voice with your chest out, hands on your hips— doing your best to impersonate him.

He looks unamused as he stands there in a similar pose— hands resting at his hips, fingers just barely tucked into his pockets.

*Click*

*Wind*

“I do not sound like that.”

*Click*

*Wind*

“Javi, you do— but I love you, broody and all.” You laugh and lean into him for a brief kiss, his hands make their way into your hardly buttoned shirt— his shirt actually, the button-up one you had thrown on your nearly naked form before joining him for breakfast this morning.

*Click*

*Wind*

“Is that so.”

His fingers work together to undo the remaining buttons of his shirt. His nose nudging at your cheek, the soft slide of it against your skin as he takes in your scent.

Tender light nips to your jaw, the drag of his top lip down your neck as he slides the shirt off one shoulder— your skin prickling at the sensation of his wet kisses across your collar bone.

“Jav—“

His newly callous hands, fence building the last week taking a toll on them, guide the shirt off the rest of the way, leaving you in only your cotton panties. Pulling you against him, hands kneading at your skin, grabbing and caressing as they move about your body.

“Let me love on my wife a bit.” His breathy whisper ghosting your ear. “Then we can take your film down to the camera shop to get developed…” The slow glide of his finger tips down your stomach, inching closer to the ache between your legs. “Grab some lunch while we wait…” His tongue and teeth catch your earlobe, causing a whimper to rip from your throat.

*Click*

The last frame, an accidental capture as he walks you backwards towards the bed, where he’s eager to take you apart bit by bit.

Euphoria, thick like molasses, seeping through your veins. Limbs shaky, cradling each others exhausted bodies. Beads of sweat pooling before dripping down your dewy skin onto the undone sheets.

You’re too tired to care about anything, being wrapped up in Javier’s arms is all you have on your mind for the time being.

[lilith-little-world]

When I was younger, I had a thing for that trope. Maybe it was due to having something very similar happened to me. Dreams are weird things, so I never questioned it until 6 (?) dreams later he kept invading my dreams. I always wanted to write them down and make a story about them but eh, I never got to it.

Anyways I got fanfics to write. Better to write those than that whole mess.

This one is a short one, but I'm planning to add parts to it. Just so I got something to do when I can't come up with the concept oneshots. Also bad grammar and sentence structure, I was like half asleep when I wrote this.

I Saw You Once In A Dream, Maybe|| Oneshot Pt. 1

It was the new year and you were spending time with your family. Last night was spent with a small feast and fireworks but now here you were washing the plates and pans. It was the least you can do since your parents made the feast for yesterday. Doesn't hurt to help clean up a bit.

“Sweetheart, tell me, are you seeing anybody?” Your mother asks while putting away the dishes.

“Sadly and fortunately, nope. Taking a break from all that.”

“I told you that person was no good for you, but you didn't want to listen to your mother.”

“You made it sound like we had ended things terribly, in reality, I just didn't have feelings for them.”

“It's always the same thing. I know, you didn't have any feelings but why did you give them a chance?”

You hand your mother the last plate, shrugging. Honestly, you didn't know why. Maybe the personality or looks that reminded you of someone? Possibly.

“Maybe, I was meant to be single forever.”

“Don’t say things like that, there's always a person for someone. Romantically or platonically. It just takes a while, that's all.”

“Then that person sure is taking their sweet time.”

You sigh tiredly, this wasn't your first time having this conversation with her. Even though her intentions were in a good place, after the first 10, it becomes tiring.

“Here, let me give you some leftovers to take home.”

There she went to get a big tupperware and fill it to the brim with food.

‘At least she tries.’

You smile and help your mother. It wasn't long until you left. Saying your goodbyes to your parents. Driving around the city, filled with life. Many people start off the new year with an exciting day. Going out, shopping, eating at a restaurant, spending it with family or friends, a significant other…

Okay, maybe your mother’s worries were definitely in a good and reasonable place to worry. You try to appear that you're doing fine, but in truth, you were lonely and craving for someone.

‘That's enough, thinking for one day. Time to turn off my mind.’

You get out of your car and walk around the busy streets. A crowd doing the same thing as you. Looking at the shops and cafe, wondering where to go next.

‘Remember kids, if you're feeling depressed or lonely buy some clothes and make-up and hope it fills the void.’

You notice a shop’s window, looking at the merchandise. It was all Monkey King theme. Journals, pens, keychains, stuffed toys, and so on.

“Or buy some merch…” You told yourself softly, lost in thought. It was a small stuffed toy of the famous monkey. Something in you demanded the toy. You obeyed and bought it, feeling a lot happier. It was a cute toy to own and is no bigger than your hands, it won't take much space. You bought a few more things, a few fine-tip pens and a journal. In other words, the day wasn't so bad.

The sun had set and you finally got home, exhausted. The house was empty and dark, with nothing but silence. A sigh escapes from your lips. The loneliness slowly swallows you up. Head to your room, not even trying to turn on the lights. You throw the bag at some random corner and collapse onto your bed. Just wanting the night to end.

You didn't know when you fell asleep, but your buzzing mind went silent. Like the room, you are sleeping in. Maybe your lonely mind was getting tired of your sulking and gave you a strange dream. I mean, what else can you it

It was bright, too bright. Things were fuzzy as your mind blocked out the voices talking to you. However, what you noticed was that you were looking in a mirror. You couldn't get a good look from being fuzzy so looking down, you noticed a red dress. There was golden embroidery of… Well, you couldn't make out what it was. It was blurry.

“Today is the big day! Are you excited?”

Turning to face the young woman with a blurry face. You couldn't help but look at her confused.

‘Excited for what?’, you wanted to say, but your mouth couldn't move.

Next thing you knew, the scenery changed and you were outside. The scene reminds you of a wedding.

Wait-

‘Is this my wedding?!’

You wanted to look around and see if anything cleared up, but it was still fuzzy and blurry as you walked down the aisle. The Wedding March, clearly playing as you came closer to the groom. Who was oddly more blurred than the others?

Okay, now that was rude. As much as this dream was crazy, your mind could have at least come up with a groom and then given you a blurry mess. You never had a greater urge to wake up than right at this moment.

You let the dream play out, as the ceremony went on. The groom held your hand, his hands were rough yet soft. Holding yours gently as if afraid to hurt you. His eyes were on you and a warm feeling filled your chest. You couldn't help but stare at him, trying to get a good look at his face. Slowly it unblurred as you saw a strange mark on his face and the unusual golden glow of his eyes.

“I promise nothing will tear us apart. I will fight the whole celestial army again if it means I can stay by your side.” He said, grinning at you.

“You're going to jinx yourself and when I'm around I'll keep you out of trouble so you won't have to fight the celestial army again.”

The words left your mouth. As much as you were confused, you found this cute. So you stopped questioning this dream and enjoyed this moment.

He leans into you, just inches away from your lips.

Beep, beep, beep, beep-

You grab your phone that was still in your pocket. Turning off the alarm, groaning.

“When the dream was starting to get good.”

You smothered your face into your pillow and let out a small scream.

“Why do I have to wake up?”

Begrudgingly, you got out of bed. The sunlight peeking through your curtains showers the room with light.

‘Right, I got work to do. That dream was nice while it lasted.’

Better to move on when the harsh reality demands more attention. Anyways it was just a simple dream that your lonely mind came up with.

Right?

_______________________________

Remember you can always request and ask questions!

[damagedintellect]

Craig Tucker x Fem!reader

💌 Craig Tucker is a mother fucker: Chapter 3  💌  

Summary:  You want to say that it wasn't your fault buuuuuut it kinda was. You didn't think much of it as you casted your joke vote for the "Hottest guy in school" and in hindsight you should never listen to Clyde but it was pretty funny at the time. Craig just wanted a peaceful junior year and you can't blame him for that however waking up the morning after a party, in his bed, being told that you two were dating wasn't exactly your definition of peaceful either.

Notes:  I was always too scared of the fandom to post it back in the day but I wrote this before Creek was made canon so let's just say Craig is bi for my sake because I've had a huge crush on him since forever. My S/O pointed out that Craig is just Trafalgar Law but with a guinea pig instead of a polar bear and I haven't been the same since I have a type and it's them.

💌 Word count: 3,185 💌  <= Previous | Chapter 4 =>

The alarm was going off but Craig didn't have the energy to turn it off, his entire body felt heavy and he didn't want to move. He forced himself to open his eyes, frowning as he patted around for the phone turning the alarm off. His throat felt sore, despite him not yelling the day prior and he felt hot and cold at the same time. Craig tried to take a deep breath but he couldn't he ended up coughing instead. Closing his eyes he sank back into the blankets.

"Fuck"

He quickly sent a text to Clyde and attempted to go back to sleep. He could practically hear (Y/n) say "Who's the dumbass now, I thought I told you not to get sick." in that annoying cadence she uses when talking to him. Thinking about it made his head hurt and sent a shiver down his spine, maybe he should put his jacket on or get another blanket or something. He tried to stand up. His body didn't want to but it did so anyway however he couldn't find his jacket. He cursed himself again forgetting that he gave it to (Y/n). His head has been a mess lately because of her. Craig wanted to go check if there was any medicine in the house but he was already annoyed. He didn't have the patience to check and opted to go back to sleep.

---

Bebe had asked if you wanted a ride to school since you barely made it on time yesterday. You accepted it just as long as she didn't drag you to another girls club meeting. She promised she wouldn't but she was just so giddy about it you felt like she was lying to you. You still had a few minutes before she would get to your house. You laid on your bed holding up Craig's jacket. You were half tempted to wear it today but then again maybe it's better if you don't, in fact you should probably give it back. You sniffed the jacket once more, you had washed it last night since it was super wet when you got home. You felt bad that you made him go jacketless and you should have given it back then but it wouldn't have done him much good anyways. Honestly you wondered if he even had another jacket. You've only ever seen him wear this one and with good reason it was hella comfortable but still. Your phone rang and you shoved his jacket in your backpack as you put your shoes on and walked out the door.

As soon as you got in the car Bebe was giggling giving you this weird look. "Can I help you?" you questioned her as she smiled "Sooooo~"

"So?"

"Craig took you home yesterday didn't he! I heard he gave you his jacket, what happened, I need details women!" you frowned, word really does go around fast. You wondered if this was the reason she wanted to give you a ride "He didn't really give me his jacket per say. It's more like I stole it from him and he didn't care." Bebe kept her eyes on the road but snickered "That's not what I heard." she said in a sing song tune. You rolled your eyes at her these goddamn rumors are going to be the end of you, you swear "Yeah okay, well what did you hear?" you paused only a little curious "You know what on second thought maybe it's better I don't know." You stare outside the window. Either way you're probably dead Craig was going to yell at you again. Not that it mattered or more over not that you cared. "Whatever the case he walked me home and that was it end of story. We didn't even talk much on the way home." As Bebe pulled into the school parking lot she turned to you. "(Y/n) that guy you have a crush on it's Craig isn't it?" You inhaled so fast you choked coughing a bit. She should know by now your indifference to Craig.

"Excuse me? Fuck no, are you serious?" Bebe sighed at your answer and parked the car. "I figured you'd say that." You got out of her car and both walked into the school ignoring the looks you got from people "Why ask then? Don't tell me you're starting to believe the rumors." As you walked through the main hall you saw Clyde leaning on the wall next to Bebe's locker.

"I mean, you haven't told me who it is so it could be anybody, but if you must know" Bebe only pushed past you to hug Clyde "I asked because Clyde and I are finally an item and I thought a double date would have been cute." She kissed him on the cheek and you clapped "Wow, and here I thought I was going to be the middleman forever." They both smiled awkwardly at you recalling all the countless times they both had asked you to play wing man for them. It seemed like all that was worth it, they looked really happy together. Bebe nudged you playfully "Now it's your turn you have to get a boyfriend too sorry (Y/n), I don't make the rules."

"Oh haha" You sighed "Unfortunately I don't see that happening anytime soon. At least not while everyone thinks I'm dating Craig." you looked up to see Wendy and Stan walking together. Stan noticed you out of the corner of his eye. You made eye contact and waved as they made their way over to you. "Morning." you didn't know who to address first so you panicked and ended up saying the first thing that came into your mind.

"How're you feeling (Y/n)? It looked pretty bad yesterday" Stan said looking concerned. Just like yesterday you tense up and stutter "I-I-I yeah, I'm okay. It's not the first time I've fallen this year." you laugh awkwardly as Wendy put two and two together "Oh my god that was you? I heard Craig had to carry some poor girl to the nurses office!" you slump looking at the floor "hehe ah yup that, that was me." you said flatly as she put a hand on your shoulder "Hey at least you two are getting along this year, a lot of people think you're dating."

"Yeah no, we're really not. I'm as single as ever." putting your hand up in defense. Bebe laughs as she pinches your cheeks "Such a shame the number one hottest girl in the school's single." Stan smiled in disbelief "Really? That's surprising but then again I'm one to talk." Wendy laughed adding "I'm sure with your new title you could get anyone you wanted." You scratched the back of your neck and wondered if that was true. You looked up at Stan. Maybe you should just ask if he'd like to hang out sometime. After all you guys are friends right? You sure hoped he thought you were a friend. You were about to open your mouth to say something and the first bell rang "We should probably get going, Stan." Wendy said as he nodded turning back to make eye contact "It's reassuring to see that you're okay (Y/n)" they waved you all off as you, Bebe and Clyde also walked to your first class. "You hear that (Y/n), you defs could have any guy you wanted."

"Sure" you said sarcastically watching Stan walk away. It's not like there was anything wrong with being single, it just seems nice. You guys walked into class and sat down at your table.

You looked at the empty chair and at the clock. Seems like Craig was skipping first period again. Clyde and Bebe were already flirting with each other and you felt like a third wheel. You wanted something like that or maybe something less lovey dovey. The class started and the teacher started taking attendance. When Craig's name was called Clyde answered "Out sick" and you stared in his direction. You knew Craig would get sick in the rain without his jacket.

"I fucken called it" you whisper under your breath. Clyde looked at you and blinked "What?"

"I told him he'd get sick, but he didn't listen." You rest your head on the table "I should give him back his jacket." You slumped feeling guilty. Clyde's eyes widened, "You still have his jacket?" You ignored him still thinking about how Craig is sick and it's kind of your fault. "Maybe I should bring him some soup." You look at the clock again class wouldn't be over for a while, but you could probably hit a farmers market or something and make him some good soup and not just something from a can. "Hey do you guys want to skip school?" Clyde stopped what he was doing, it wasn't like you to skip class.

"I thought you'd never ask? I think we're finally rubbing off on you." Bebe cheered in excitement it wasn't everyday that you chose to break the rules. Clyde leaned back with his hands resting behind his head "Where do you wanna go?" You looked out the window "A few places" you didn't want to say no matter what they're going to get the wrong idea. Clyde sighs "Eh good enough for me." with that you all waited for class to end.

As soon as the bell rang you all walked to the main hall. During the passing period it was very easy to slip away considering there were so many students traversing the halls. This was the first time you've made an effort to skip class and to your surprise no one was caught. Once you got to the parking lot you made it to Clyde's truck "So where too first?"

"Where ever the nearest store is." You mentally made a list while Bebe plugged her phone into the aux cord. "So we're def going to Craig's right (Y/n)."

"Shut up, I feel bad okay!" There were a few beats of silence before they both started laughing "I totally called it! You guys are dating!"

"I already told you no we're not. I just don't want to be in debt." Clyde turned to you "Yeah sure you keep telling yourselves that. One day you're gonna realize it and it's going to hit you hard." You rolled your eyes, as if. "I keep telling you guys I have a crush on someone else but go off I guess." Bebe pats your head "Well maybe we'd believe you if, hmmmm, I don't know you told us who it was." you sighed maybe you should just tell them.

"Fine!" you took a deep breath "I like Stan, now you can stop bringing it up." They both went quiet as Clyde pulled into the parking lot. "Well shit." He said as he parked the car. They both looked in your direction "Yeah no kidding" you grunted rolling your eyes at them as you grab your wallet out of your bag and left the vehicle. At this point you didn't care who knew. With all the rumors about you and Craig, you would be shocked to even get a date with someone.

You walked into the store and grabbed a basket. They followed you in and Bebe hugged you from behind "I understand why you didn't want to tell me now." You scoffed "No shit, now hand me 3 potatoes" she pouts at your response but does as she was asked. "Clyde and I promise we won't tell anybody." Clyde nods "Yeah pinky swear if I have too."

"I figured you guys wouldn't. I mostly told you because I don't have a chance at all." you put some more produce in the basket. "I mean you never know until you ask him." Bebe was right but with the way he hangs around Wendy you doubt it. "My main concern is Wendy."

"Fair enough but, you're already giving up if you don't do anything."

You guys finished up the shopping buying celery, carrots, potatoes, elbow pasta, chicken breast, chicken stock and some evaporated milk. You bought enough for all four of you to eat. Given that you guys were going to skip lunch anyhow, Clyde and Bebe even gave you some cash for their portions. Which was nice of them but they didn't have too you would have cooked for them regardless. "So what off to Craig's" Clyde asked just to make sure "I guess so." He pulled out of the store parking lot and made his way to the Tucker residence. A few minutes later you arrived at Craig's house.

Apparently Clyde knew where the hide a key was and let you all in. He said that Craig wouldn't even notice as long as he was in his room considering it was upstairs. Clyde went to go check on Craig to possibly distract him if need be while You and Bebe made your way to the kitchen. She was curious and wanted to watch you cook.

"I didn't know you could cook, I think that's hot." You shrugged continuing to chop everything up, already tossing the chicken in the frying pan. "My parents aren't around much. We tend to move around often so they're always busy working, but I enjoy cooking it's not that big of a deal." You set up a pot to boil the noodles at the same time. You set the cooked chicken aside for the moment while grabbing the bowl you put all the vegetables in. Using the same pan you used for the chicken, you saute the vegetables in the sweet juices that remained at the bottom of the pan. You had also taken some butter from the fridge which you hoped was okay. Clyde came back down shortly after "Something smells really good." You had just finished putting everything in the pot as Clyde walked in the kitchen "Now we let it simmer for 20 minutes." They both applaud you before you started on the dishes. After you were done he took you guys upstairs. There were pictures on the wall from when Craig was a kid. Most if not all of them he was giving the bird. The ones that caught your eye were of the soccer and baseball teams. You never really pegged him as the sports kind of person but then again there was probably a lot you didn't know about Craig.

"He's out like a light, he's a pretty heavy sleeper. I tried to wake him and still nothing." He opened his door. Craig's room was less cluttered than you imagined it would be. You wouldn't consider him to be a neat freak but everything seemed so organized and clean. Clyde dug through his bag and pulled out his switch "In the meantime, you guys wanna play Mariokart?." You and Bebe grinned at him.

---

"THAT IS BS!!! HOW'D YOU GET A BLUE SHELL IN SECOND PLACE!!!"

"I am R N Gesus." Bebe was proud of her random luck and Clyde couldn't help but smile at the blonde "You're lucky I love you."

Craig heard voices, he wanted to continue sleeping and for a second he thought the voices were part of some weird dream. But this wasn't a dream he opened his eyes when he realized who those voices belong to. He frowned when he saw Clyde and Bebe kissing. He didn't say anything just quietly watched. "This might as well be happening" he thought to himself. He was happy for his best friend. Clyde and Bebe have been beating around the bush since the 4th grade but did they really have to do this in his room. He heard another set of footsteps and looked to the door as it opened.

You walked in holding a tray of the soup you made earlier and saw Bebe and Clyde making out. You grimaced "Really in front of my soup." They paid no mind to your comment and just continued. They only jumped when they heard a voice from behind them.

"What the fuck are you guys doing here?" Craig managed to say before he was hit with a coughing fit. "Not that I told ya so but, I told ya so." You handed him the tray and sat in his desk chair "I made you soup." Craig didn't question it and just accepted it. He was grateful he had good friends even though he'd never admit you were his friend. He enjoyed your constant bickering too much. You had traded places with Clyde for the next race and he sat on the bed with Craig.

"Clyde how many times have I told you, you're not allowed to use the hide a key" Clyde smiled sheepishly knowing he wasn't supposed too but he thought it would be funny, and it was. It was really funny and seeing Craig's reaction was worth it. It's not like they were going to be missing anything on the third day of school.

"What else was I supposed to do? My best friend was sick." he over exaggerated his expressions swooning and clutching his chest before ending his little scene crossing his arms "You probably didn't even take any medicine." he was right but Craig just flipped him off taking a bite of the soup. He physically perked up, it was good, he turned to look at you. You and Bebe were still on the second lap of the race. "It's good." he said knowing you weren't paying attention. He continued eating as Clyde sat beside him "I know right (Y/n)'s a pretty good cook." He paused watching the race before adding "It was her idea by the way, to skip class to come over." Craig looked over at you and then back to Clyde, he wasn't buying it. Clyde literally makes any excuse he can to skip class.

"Why?"

"Something about being guilty for taking your jacket or some shit." You and Bebe finished the race and you handed the joycon over to Clyde. You only heard the last half of the conversation "That reminds me I still have it." You rummaged through your backpack and pulled out his jacket tossing it to him. Craig set the soup aside for a moment grabbing the jacket, something seemed different. He shoved his face in the jacket and took in a deep breath, "What did you do to it? It smells weird." he kept sniffing the jacket and you raised an eyebrow "I washed it. Why, does it smell clean."

"The fuck? Why would you wash it?"

"Because it's a jacket Craig, it was wet." you stare blankly at him as Bebe and Clyde to turn over "Dude, do you not wash your jacket?" Craig shrugged taking another bite of the soup "It's not like I sweat in it enough to make it stink. Why would I wash it if it doesn't smell like anything." Clyde didn't know how to respond to him just pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You sick fuck."

[blueberrybladelemonade]

When the Light Fades

Contains: Death talk (Y/N's), Suicide ideation, Blood mention, Semi graphic, Angst, No comfort. Honestly the heaviest and most depressing thing I've wrote. So uh...hope that's enough warning for everyone.

Along with you died joy. All that remains is despair and a future of meaningless tomorrows.

~Silent Hill 2 Acacia Key Puzzle 

You had been together for eight years, married for the last three of them. 

Peppino remained slumped in the chair. He had on more than one occasion went to the tower ruins and stared at the sea below. Waves slapped harshly at the rocks. A drop from this height would be instantaneous. No pain, or maybe for a mere second, and he'd be gone. Like you. 

It had been four years since you were gone. Each day feeling like it was just yesterday it happened. Peppino remembered looking up at the calendar a year ago, in disbelief three years had passed.  

Peppino slept better with you. You made him feel whole. He had frequently awoken from night terrors, some of the particularly awful ones eliciting a scream or crying. 

Every time you would be forced awake because of him. Every time though you held and comforted him. Despite always feeling broken from his PTSD and nightmares, you remained at his side. He remembered how he used to worry that you would get fed up with him and leave. Instead you gave him love. You never made him feel like a burden or grew angry. Instead you'd gently run a hand down his back and tell him "It's ok, you're safe Pino. I'm here".

He slept better with you. Now though? No amount of weighted blankets, pillows, or even headphones with audio that played a heart beat with breathing could replace you. Nothing could ever replace you. 

"I love you." You'd press your forehead against his with a sleepy grin. Despite being half asleep, Peppino would wrap an arm around you and pull you against him. "I love you too, Y/N". You'd make a happy noise as you lay your head against his chest and drift back to sleep. 

This life held no joy without you. It was colorless and miserable. Peppino's life hadn't been easy by any stretch. After the war he came back plagued with anxiety and PTSD. Then later on he opened a pizzeria with Gustavo where he eventually struggled with debt. Then much later he dealt with the tower incident. 

His life had been riddled with stress and problems. That is, until you showed up and became a bright light in his otherwise dark life. 

Then soon, too fucking soon, you were cruelly ripped away from him. The pain was intolerable and tore at his heart. 

The fight was over something trivial. That day. It had to do with getting a shower before crawling into bed. He never meant to do it to anger you, some days, especially that week he had been completely worn and just wanted to lay down. 

Instead you left the room in a huff, deciding to sleep on the couch instead. Before you could settle down he dropped his pillow on the couch. He snapped at you to just be happy now that the damn bed wouldn't get dirty. 

Just be happy now. 

He remembered not sleeping well that night and after having an already exhausting week, he had been short with you. Your glared at him, eyes holding a mix of indignation and hurt, and how you told him to have a good day. 

Despite your frustration, you still gave him a kiss and asked to talk about it later. He returned your actions by waving you off. 

"I hope you have a good day." You call from the door as you're about to leave. Peppino gives a noncommittal reply, his back to you as he washes a glass. He hears you shuffle closer before feeling an arm wrap around his shoulder in a half hug. You press a kiss to his temple. He stares at you wearily but makes no move to reciprocate. "Can we talk later?" You ask. Peppino shrugs "Sure". 

As he went to work Peppino overheard a conversation about an accident later that day. How a car had been totalled and there was a casualty. 

He couldn't recall how much time had passed before an officer that had entered the pizzeria asking to speak with him. That's when his stomach dropped. 

Everything else was a blur, as if he was in a fucked up dream. 

He remembered screaming as your lifeless body was uncovered. Blood. Your beautiful face was coated in blood. A gash was carved into your chest as glass shattered and was crushed against you. 

There you lay, lifeless. His light, his heart, his joy. Dead. He didn't even get to say goodbye. Instead he cruelly shrugged you off. 

You had been at a stop sign and a truck had plowed into your car. The brake on it malfunctioned, apparently. You bled out on the road. In pain and alone, gasping your last breaths. 

Did you die thinking he didn't love you? 

Peppino looked through his medicine cabinet. He had been crying again, great racking sobs that made his entire body shake. There had been enough different drugs in there that today could've been the last day he had left the house. He slammed it shut, instead turning the sink handle and splashing water onto his face.

You would make breakfast often, sometimes sliding out of bed before he had woken up. When you did wake him though, you'd sometimes tug him out of bed as he grumbled at you. Other times you would come back into the bedroom and bring breakfast into bed. 

After you died. No. Killed. He still tried to eat breakfast when he would get up in the morning. Every single time it tasted bland. He remembered once that he flung the plate off the table in frustration. He couldn't stand eating breakfast anymore and skipped it completely after that day. 

"Pino." You gently nudge at his shoulder. "Nhm." He groaned in response. 

"Pino, wake up. I made breakfast." You shake him a bit more firmly. Instead he swats at you and yanks the blanket over his head. "Five more minutes amore mia". 

Peppino awoke with a jolt as he was hit with a blast of cold air.

"Che cazzo signora!" He yells as he glares at you, holding the corner of the comforter. You stifled the laughter bubbling in your throat. "Good morning signor! Would my sweet and handsome husband like to eat breakfast"?

Move on they said. It's time. He thought bitterly. Moving on meant forgetting. Not thinking about you. Telling him time would heal and ease the pain. It was an empty platitude. 

He didn't want the pain to stop. Knowing you were gone and having this pain, it kept him from ever forgetting you. He couldn't just relive those happy memories. He didn't want them to just be memories. He wanted you back. 

You were never coming back. 

Even the Noise no longer made jabs or pulled pranks on him. In any other circumstance this would've been a blessing. The real reason was Theo felt deeply unsettled. As if Peppino would actually kill him if pushed, even a little. 

Peppino hated how everyone acted towards him now. On eggshells. As if they even looked at him a certain way he'd snap. How they seemed to choose their words cautiously. 

Peppino stared at the ceiling vacantly. He hadn't even realized it had become night time. He was dead inside. There was nothing he looked forward to each day. He simply went through the motions. This was just his life now. 

One day he'd get himself together. Today wasn't that day.

Gus was around still and had taken over running the restaurant. He would listen to Peppino and offer some comfort but it never was enough. Along with that, Gustavo could only handle being a shoulder to -literally- cry on before it took it's own mental toll on the man. Lately Brick and that weird clone had done more than Peppino had at the pizzeria. 

"Hi Gus!" You'd call as you stepped into the pizzeria. "Hi Y/N! What brings you in?" Gustavo would return your smile as you'd take a seat at the counter. "Oh not much, but can you keep a secret?" You'd ask, though never lowering your voice for this supposed secret. Gustavo would peer at you curiously before nodding, knowing your routine by now.

"You think I'ma cute?" You smile brightly and nod. You watch as your boyfriend opens the bag and pulls out the container. Peppino gives you a grin, realizing you had cooked and brought him lunch. 

"The cutest guy I know".

Peppino didn't know when he fell asleep. He simply felt his eyes burn and tears fall onto the picture he had clutched to his chest. The one of your wedding day. 

(I'm sorry for writing this and taking an angst bat to your kneecaps 🥲)

[joanofexys]

The Start of Forever

reposting an old jerejean piece i wrote literally three years ago largely so i can look back and laugh after reading the sunshine court

“You should come home with me,” Jeremy says it so casually one Thursday night that Jean barely even thinks about the words.

“We are home.” He mutters, focused on mincing garlic for a recipe that Renee sent him.

Jeremy sighs but Jean doesn’t even have to look up to know he was still smiling. He also knew the second he looked up he’d be smiling too. “You’re not wrong but I mean my family home. We have a long weekend and I’m going to go visit them. I’d love it if you came with me.”

There’s the usual enthusiasm in Jeremy’s voice but quieter, mixed with some hesitant hope. Jean could say no and Jeremy would drop it instantly, no questions asked. He spends a few minutes mulling it over, focusing his attention on what he’s cooking.

In the corner of his eye, he can see Jeremy take a seat at the counter. His boyfriend rests his chin in his palm. Jean returns the soft smile Jeremy gives him.

“How many days?”

“Three nights, four days. We’d leave Monday morning or afternoon.” Jeremy replies, adding on a moment later, “and we can always leave earlier if you choose to come. All you’d have to do is say the word.”

Jean hums, considering. “It’s not a no.”

They talk about anything and everything while Jean finishes cooking and Jeremy jumps in to help. They speak mostly in French and Jean occasionally pokes fun at Jeremy’s “horrible” accent. It had admittedly improved but Jean wouldn’t let it go and teased Jeremy at least once every time they held a conversation in French.

He doesn’t bring up Jeremy’s offer until after they finish eating and start washing the dishes. His body is pressed up against Jeremy’s, making things a tad bit inconvenient for them both but the contact is nice.

“Your family will be there, no?”

“My moms, Liv, and Jenna will be for sure.” Jeremy tells him, “Mel wants to visit if she can and she’ll bring Oliver and Bella with her even if Kamryn can’t come with. Rylie will probably stay for a few hours on Saturday too.”

“Meeting your family is a pretty big step.”

“Which is one of the reasons I completely understand if you want to say no. I know they’d all love to meet you but if you’re not ready for that it’s completely okay.”

“I think it’d be nice,” Jean admits quietly, staring at the plate he’s rinsing instead of looking at Jeremy. “We can leave early if I ask?”

He hears the fork Jeremy was drying click against the counter and feels his boyfriend reach up and squeeze his arm. It’s an awkward motion with the way they’re pressed together and Jeremy trying not to move away.

“Of course, we’ll be gone before you can say supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”

Jean blinks at him, looking extremely confused. “Say what?”

“You’re joking right?” When Jean shakes his head very slowly Jeremy sighs though his lips are quirking up and it’s enough to soothe any worries Jean might have about Jeremy actually being upset.

“We’re watching Mary Poppins tonight. And we’re gonna listen to supercalifragilisticexpialidocious until you can sing the entire thing.”

“I don’t sing.”

“Then I’ll sing the entire thing and you can just tell me when you have the lyrics memorized.”

Jean clears his throat, raising his eyebrows. “I think we should be making plans and packing to visit your family. Not singing children’s songs.”

“We can do both.”

“Sounds torturous.”

---

Jean absolutely despises the way he has to resist humming supercalifragilisticexpialidocious during the drive. But for the first half-hour, the car is too silent and the stupid song has been stuck in his head since yesterday night. True to his word Jeremy had turned on Mary Poppins and then proceeded to ramble about how much his niece and nephew, Oliver and Bella, loved the movie. He didn’t stop talking, whether it was in French or English until the damn song came on and proceeded to scream-sing the words.

He lasts until 10:45 am before he turns on the radio, cranking it up until a random pop song Jean doesn’t know the name of was near deafening. Jeremy shoots him an odd look but doesn’t ask any questions as Jean tips his head back against the headrest. Three songs later he’s fast asleep and it’s only after two more songs play that Jeremy dares to turn down the volume. Lest the change somehow manage to wake Jean.

He dozes for the next hour and a half, occasionally waking up only to shift in his seat, yawn, and promptly fall back asleep. His third time waking up he stretches his hand out onto the console and Jeremy subconsciously takes one hand off the steering wheel to intertwine their fingers.

The final time he wakes up it’s near 1:00 and it’s Jeremy’s voice coaxing him into consciousness. He’s talking about the most random things but pauses when notices Jean peeling his eyes open to glare at him. Jean’s met with the most blinding and brilliant smile and his expression softens, giving Jeremy an attempt at a tired smile.

“We’ll be there in a few minutes, I figured you’d appreciate being woken up before we get there. But I didn’t know if touching you would be okay.”

Jean yawns, scrunching up his neck and shoulders. He mutters something in French that Jeremy doesn’t catch. Turning in his seat to face Jeremy, which isn’t very comfortable with the seatbelt, he leans his head against the headrest again but keeps his eyes open and watches Jeremy drive. It takes him until they pull into the driveway to finally feel awake and he immediately grabs onto Jeremy’s hand, not even remembering letting go the first time.

“You still okay with this?” Jeremy asks when he turns into the cul de sac.

Jean nods, focused on fiddling with Jeremy’s fingers. “Yes.”

There are two girls rushing outside the moment Jeremy pulls into the driveway. One of them, the one who looks youngest who Jean assumes is Liv, wrenches open the driver’s door for Jeremy and climbs into the car to hug him. One of Jeremy’s moms, Isabelle, comes around to the passenger side to open the door for Jean. She has a kind smile and face that shows years of bright smiles and laughter. On the surface, she and Jeremy looked nothing alike but if you looked a little deeper the happiness she radiated was the same as Jeremy, something akin to warm sunlight. Jean had to resist scowling at himself, it was Jeremy who had made him sappy like this. The second he stepped out of the car he offered her a hand which she enthusiastically shook.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jean tells her, unsure of whether to address her by her first name or Mrs. Knox or even ma’am.

“And it’s wonderful to meet you, Jean. We’ve been waiting for this since Jeremy called us just gushing about how amazing you are.”

“Ma!” Jeremy exclaims, a red flush crawling up his ears and neck. Jean can’t help the amused smile that forces itself onto his lips and Jeremy rolls his eyes when he sees it. “Oh, that’s just the ego boost you need. It’s true though, you’re amazing and I could talk about it for hours.”

Now it was Jean’s turn to blush, pursing his lips and looking at the cement. Isabelle lets go of his hand but not before squeezing it between her own in a comforting gesture.

“He very nearly did by the way.” Stephanie Knox, Jeremy’s other mom, drawls. “This boy would not have shut up about you if he didn’t have early morning practices to worry about. It was the only reason he stopped and went to bed.”

“Mom, do we have to start with this immediately? We just got here.”

She pins Jeremy with a look that Jean can only describe as a mom look, despite having no clue what that would actually be. “Alright, alright. I’ll give it a rest until your sisters get here, I’m sure they’ve got plenty of stories they’d love to tell your honey.” Then she turns to the “honey” in question who is probably the most terrified he has ever been in his life and is praying to god it doesn’t show on his face.

“It’s lovely to have you here, Jean. We were thrilled when Jeremy called and said you’d decided to join us this weekend.”

“I’m happy to be here, Jeremy’s told me a lot about you all.”

“And Jeremy’s told us a lot about you.” Jenna, who was 14 if Jean was remembering right, shimmies her shoulders and waggles her eyebrows. Her grin widens when Jeremy pinches her shoulder and hisses at her to shut up.

“A lot a lot a lot a lot a lot,” Liv emphasizes, nodding furiously with wide eyes.

Jean shoots Jeremy a panicked look as subtly as he can, having no idea how to respond to all this. It seems he wasn’t subtle because both Isabelle and Stephanie seem to pick up on it.

“Alright let’s head inside. Jeremy, you can help Liv and me in the kitchen.” Stephanie says, already ushering her two youngest kids to the door.

Jeremy trails behind slowly, waiting for Jean to join him. Isabelle is a few steps behind them and shuts the door with a quiet click.

“You two can grab your stuff in a little bit, for now, you can just relax and visit. Unless you’d prefer to unpack now.”

“It can wait-” Jeremy’s sentence is interrupted by Stephanie’s voice coming from the kitchen.

“Damn right it can wait, get your tush in here and get started on seasoning this chicken.”

“You don’t mind chicken tacos for dinner right?” Isabelle asks. “We thought about trying out something French but Jeremy said not to bother.”

Jean nods, letting out a small nervous chuckle. “Yeah, that’s fine by me. I’m not picky.”

“Liar!” Jeremy calls out from the kitchen. “You are one of the pickiest eaters I have ever met, you won’t even touch half of the stuff Laila makes.”

“I promise I am not that bad,” Jean tells Isabelle, eyes wide. “Laila is a horrible cook, I didn’t know we were supposed to keep that a secret until it was too late.”

Isabelle gives him a toothy grin as Jeremy’s laughter rings out and she reaches out to squeeze Jean’s arm. “I’ll show you around the house and then you can help me pick out some board games.”

Jean almost bangs his head against the nearest wall when he nods again. This was by far the most awkward experience of his life and it was with Jeremy’s family for fucks sake. Though he could always reassure himself with the fact that he never properly learned how to socialize with people, especially those who are virtually strangers. He’ll treat this as a learning experience and hopefully interact normally with Jeremy’s family.

Besides, how difficult could dinner and some board games be? If it doesn’t go well they can always leave.

---

Dinner is one of the most awkward experiences of Jean’s life. It starts when Rylie flings the front door open and Jean absolutely will not admit to how much it startled. Mel arrives about fifteen minutes later with the twins at her heels giggling like maniacs. When Bella ends up latching onto Jean’s leg he throws Jeremy a panicked look and only gets his asshole of a boyfriend laughing in return.

Mel’s wife Kamryn is unable to make it but Mel makes up for the lack of her presence by showing Jean a bajillion photos. Rylie groans at that and sits on Jean’s other side on the couch, pulling out her phone to show Jean some photos of the animals from the shelter she works at.

When Jeremy trails into the main room, an insane amount of food balanced precariously in his hands, he shoos both of his sisters away after placing the food on the coffee table. Though he wants to Jean doesn’t question the fact that they seem to eating dinner in the main room and not the dining room.

Rylie settles down on the floor, pulling Liv into her lap even as her younger sister squeals and squirms before settling down so she can steal food from Rylie’s plate. Jenna tries to sneak off to her room before Stephanie calls her back and she plops into an armchair with a small huff. Mel dishes up food for her twins first before telling them to be careful about spilling anything and then starts on two more plates. Jean doesn’t pay her too much attention, not when Jeremy is laying back on the couch and pulling Jean into him. A position Jean still can’t believe Jeremy actually enjoys, he still worries that he’s crushing Jeremy despite all reassurance Jeremy has given him.

He blinks, bemused when Mel holds out the plates in their direction. Jerking her head in a signal for them to grab the plates. Jean does so, muttering a thanks, and silently wishes he could fly into the sun.

Gradually he begins to relax, Jeremy’s arm wrapped around his shoulders and across his chest something grounding to focus on. He stays on the outskirts of the conversation despite Jeremy, Isabelle, and Stephanie’s best attempts. It’s only when Rylie exclaims something in French, catching Jean’s attention, that he really starts to include himself. He starts by conversing with just Rylie, fully in French, and soon enough Jenna and Liv are asking for him to teach them French and it escalates from there until Jean is smiling and laughing and he feels more comfortable than he expected. Still awkward but he feels okay in his ability to carry a conversation with them all.

“You’ve never played Clue?” Mel exclaims as if he’s personally offended her.

“No…” Jean raises his brows, confused.

“Alright everyone clear off the table, we’re playing Clue right now. Jeremy I can’t believe you’ve let this happen.”

“Shut the hell up, Mel.” Jeremy mumbles, face pressed against Jean’s hair. “He’s doing his best.”

Jean pinches him in the side, thinking about Jeremy chastising him about Mary fucking Poppins last night.

That night Jean discovers he really is quite horrible at Clue. It doesn’t work the same way as observing people and things in real life. No one knows what’s going on. It’s basically pure luck. Jeremy looks far too happy about his contempt for the game.

“Finally something you’re bad at,” Jeremy sighs in French. Rylie laughs into her hand and Jean glares.

Needless to say Jean loses every time. Mel wins every time, which makes sense with how much she clearly loves the game. And Jean discovers he doesn’t quite hate being around Jeremy’s family, he’d almost say he loves it actually.

---

Jean is sprawled out on his back on the bed, watching Jeremy unpack the rest of his stuff (cons to not being a light traveler. Jean’s grateful he has never and will never pack as much as his boyfriend) when Jeremy asks the question.

“So do you like them?” Jeremy sounds nervous, pursing his lips together.

Jean doesn’t like his worried expression and gives Jeremy one of his rare smiles in hopes of washing that nervousness away. “They’re amazing.”

“You mean it?”

“Of course I mean it, idiot.” Jean pauses when Jeremy sinks onto the mattress next to him and he takes a moment to wrap his arm around Jeremy and pull him closer. “They’re all very nice and I liked spending time with them. I liked seeing this part of your life and they obviously mean a lot to you.”

Jeremy tucks himself closer to Jean, tossing a leg across his torso. “They mean the world to me. Just like you do.”

Jean hums, pursing his lips to hide his smile. A moment later he gives into it, allowing a silly grin to curve his lip before pressing a kiss to Jeremy’s forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Awwwwww.”

Their heads snap up, spotting Liv, Jenna, Rylie, and Mel huddled in the doorway. All four of them are smiling but they all flush as they realize they were caught.

“Now you’ve done it, Jen,” Rylie mutters, smacking Jenna on the shoulder.

“We were just going to ask if you guys wanted some hot chocolate and to watch a movie with us,” Mel explains.

“Uh-uh,” Jeremy says, grinning. “Sure you were.” He sits up to grab a pillow and chucks it at his sisters. “You definitely weren’t spying. Out, out, out.”

The four stumble down the hall, laughing loudly, and Jean’s gaze flicks between Jeremy and the door.

“Shut the door-” Jeremy pauses mid shout. “And they’re gone.”

“Mom,” Jean hears Liv yell from somewhere else in the house, “Jeremy says he’s in love!”

Jean decides that he really likes the Knox family. And he really loves Jeremy.

[hihigherdi]

Hi! I’ve missed everybody. I’m still in such a quiet place. I think about everyone daily, wondering how you’re doing. I’m mostly focused/pre-occupied with getting myself to work 55 miles away without a car and a typically 10-hour day but I’m making it work.

I took next week off. Woke up yesterday and opened up my computer. 16 hours later, closed it, getting a bunch of work done that needed it, tying up loose ends. I put on clean sheets and a freshly-washed comforter, and woke up again at 7am and wrote all of my performance reviews - they aren’t technically due until the day I have the conversation with the employee so for the last 15 years, I’ve procrastinated until the day before. This time my boss wanted them in the system on the actual due date so I grinded them out between 8am-1pm. Now I’m done.

I’m pretty much staying home. My friend and I are driving down to Long Beach next Sunday to take jet skis to Catalina island, I guess dolphins swim with us and people often see whales. Mostly I’m just looking forward to having nothing scheduled.

My sister quit her job. The pay was terrible and there’s no benefits and they are assholes. She was nervous asking if she should and I told her life is too short and we are too old to be in jobs we hate if we can afford not to be. And she needs benefits! At least! From my perspective, this is just chapter one - she discovered that she loves working, getting up and experiencing the routine of it, the challenge. She also figured out how to use Google docs. So all good, don’t stay in a place where you’re disrespected if you don’t have to.

[gydima]

So right around the Daylight Savings switch, I randomly started getting my life together. Which I think is the opposite of what's supposed to happen this time of year???

I'm scheduling appointments I've put off forever, I'm cleaning all the stuff in my house, I'm being energetic and productive most of the time!

Like, today I had a consultation with a tree trimmer (we last had our trees trimmed in 2021), got my car detailed (I haven't even taken that thing to a car wash in YEARS), hung new curtains in my room, hung several pieces of art I've had sitting around for months, and vacuumed the living room and hallway so we can shampoo the carpet tomorrow. Yesterday I made an appointment to see my optometrist, and for two of my pets to get dental cleanings. I decluttered the drawers under my bed (again), gleefully used my fabric shaver on stuff for at least an hour, and renewed my car insurance! I even wrote an email to a friend I haven't reached out to in years.

I don't know what's going on, but frankly it's kind of amazing. Is this what it's like to be a person who isn't frozen into inaction all the time?