#it takes a minute for them to get there but i promise you that they do and they get to cause all sorts of problems on purpose

[lyrifaun]

Please, dear god, be kind to the people in these positions. I spent 7 years in the call center trenches and it makes such a difference when people are kind to you and patient. People are so awful to call agents on a daily basis. They get screamed at and cussed out for things that aren’t their fault all the time. I promise that someone being kind on call makes their day so much better. Wish them a smooth shift.

Keep in mind that half the tedious questions and confirmations asked are things they have to ask— either they are required to read you disclosures or they are required to confirm identity or the like, and they usually have metrics that require them to keep calls a certain length (even when that’s totally unfair). Remember they are being driven with the cruel stick of metrics and required scripts that are not their idea and probably just as much of a pain to them as they are to you.

From my days working chat lines— please be EXTRA patient! Chat agents spend all day with customers assuming they are a robot and taking out frustrations on them as such, or being weird and creepy to them or being creepy just because someone thinks its funny. There’s little empathy over the phone and even less over chat.

Half the time the agent is required to talk to several people at once (again, not their choice) and also usually required to send a message every few minutes or so in order to not be penalized— even if they are looking something up or waiting for you to complete a step. It can feel annoying or like they are rushing you, but they likely have to check in. For me, this was every three minutes.

Also! Filling out surveys is important! Sometimes their metrics include survey ratings, and a lot of curmudgeons who are experiencing a problem and just looking to take it out on someone will rate you a 1/10 out of spite and totally tank your rating. If you get a survey and your agent helped you at all, a good survey review does wonders!! Help balance out the bullies! And don’t be that guy who never rates 5/5 even for excellent service because “oh i never rate anything 5/5.”

FULL POST OF DESIGNS DEDICATED TO UNDERAPPRECIATED JOBS!

These were all made with the idea to bring some more attention to the underdogs of the working world. More designs may be added as time goes along. Show your support by sporting these designs on a shirt, sticker, notebook, etc. from my Redbubble!

Individual Links:

Call Center Workers Teachers Retail Workers Unpaid Interns Cleaning Workers Factory Workers Food Workers

ALL THE ARTWORK CONTAINED IN THIS POST IS MINE. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO COPY, CLAIM OR REPOST THIS WORK. © Hayleigh West Nover

[fl3shm4id3n]

Please please please continue your Toxic series. I'm so in love with your work and that is such a good concept. Maybe after the fight in the bathroom, Thanos comes out super bruised and bloody and she takes care of him. Then maybe everyone's forced to play a form of Mingle called Jack & Jill (that whole idea everyone has) where they have to pair up with opposite sexes and there's clearly not enough doors for everyone (and the sexes are super uneven). So there's more weeding out of competition. But its where its just the two of them, they take a pill, and they get freaky in the room while cleaning up the corpses. She's like, "omg what if they're watching." and he's just, "don't worry baby, I won't let them see nothin." and covers her with his jacket.

ɢᴇᴛ ꜱᴛɪᴄᴋʏ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐃𝐮𝐫���𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐲. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐯𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐬, 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞. 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴛʜᴀɴᴏꜱ (ᴄʜᴏɪ ꜱᴇᴜɴɢ-ʜʏᴜɴ) x ꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: SMUT, taking substances/drugs, under the influence type sex, swearing, quickies, wall sex, nudity, sex in a closet, somewhat public sex, death and all that.

A/N: I tried reading the Jack and Jill game rules, but I didn't understand a damn thing, so I choose to use the game Hide and Seek, hopefully I didn't disappoint you.

Masterlist

ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏ ᴀɴʏ ꜰᴜʀᴛʜᴇʀ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ/ꜱᴍᴜᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪꜱʜ ᴛᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅ, ꜱᴋᴇᴅᴀᴅᴅʟᴇ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪꜱʜ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴄᴇᴇᴅ, ᴛʜᴇɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ʀɪꜱᴋ.

The next game, but this game would be played in pairs. But it had to be a boy and a girl pair. You were given 10 minutes to find a partner of the opposite sex. You and Thanos were already paired up even before the rules the explained. During the remainder of the time. Thanos had taken a pill, as per usual. You watched as he took a pill in his lips and proceeded to chew it. He then noticed you staring. "You want one?" He asked. "I... I kind of do." You said shyly. Thanos chuckled at your shyness, then he took out a blue pill, then placed it on his tongue. You knew what to do.

You leaned over and kissed him, the kiss was soft and slow, you felt how Thanos tongue slid the blue pill into your lips. He then pulled away and looked at you. "Chew it, the effects will kick in faster." He said, then you proceeded to chew the pill. It had no taste at all. Just tasted like a regular pill, but once the pill became powder, you could taste the small hint of blue raspberry. Interesting. The pill kicked in, he was right. You felt more relaxed now, despite your beat going at a fast pace, you were calm and collected. You turned to look at Thanos. "This is the final game I'm playing, I'm not playing no more games." You told him, slowly almost. "Alright, final game." He said, but you chimed in. "I'm serious. No more games, we are leaving together, alive." You said, almost like a warning. "Okay, whatever you say." He said, as he picked up your hand and kissed your fingers. "Promise." He added.

When the time was up, everyone was escorted to another room. This room was huge, it looked like a the inside of a house. It was huge and pretty specious. It looked just like a house, with stares, rooms, closets and all kinds of things. You found out that it was a form of Hide and Seek, you and your partner had to hide during the count down and you'll be looked for by the guards. If you're not hidden after the countdown or are spotted, you will be eliminated. As soon as the count began, you and Thanos took off to try and find a spot.

Holding each other's hand and not letting go. You spotted a closet, which was empty. "Over here!" You said, as you pulled Thanos towards the closet, once inside you closed the door. Thanos used his body to baricite the door. You were breathing heavily, due to running. You heard the count down going to to 10, 9, 8 and there was people still outside, trying to find a place to hide. The closet was pretty small and there was a small light bulb. But pretty dim and not very bright. The count down was over, them you heard people panicking and screaming as the guards opened fire at them. Killing them.

You sighed, while looking down. But then you felt throbbing between your legs. You pressed your thought together and slightly rub them together. Thanos noticed your movements. "You okay?" He asked you. Then you went up to him and pressed your body against his. "Fuck me." You said, almost demandingly. "What?" He asked, while holding onto your arms. "Fuck me, here and right now." You said, Thanos smirked. "As you wish." He said, then he kissed you right on the lips. You moaned and wrapped your arms around his neck as you both kissed.

It was fucked up, as people were getting shot outside the room. You and Thanos were about to fuck each other. You pulled away, then took off your sweater, followed by your shirt and bralette. Thanos only took off his sweater, then drove right back into kissing you. You moaned against his lips, you felt how Thanos began to caress your naked waist and back. When he felt the tattoo on your rib, he pulled away, then turned your body carefully to look at it. "Oh, almost forgot about this. He said all cocky and with a smirk. He leaned down and gave it a kiss and a lick. You moaned softly. You then heard how the forklifts were coming with the black and pink coffins. "Hurry, we don't have enough time!" You said.

Then Thanos moved your body onto a wall, your naked chest was pressed against the cold wall. Quickly, he pulled your pants down to your knees, then he pulled his own down. Just enough to set his cock free. He leaned himself into your entrance and pushed himself easily in. Both of you let out a small moan, once Thanos had easily adjusted to your gripping pussy. He began to move his hips at a fast pace. "Fuck!" You moaned against the wall. Thanos continued his pace, stop stopping. He began to kiss your neck from the back, then your shoulder. As for his hands, one had a hold of your breast, pinching your nipple. While the other rubbing your clit.

Your wall clamped tightly around him, almost making it hard for him to thrust. He continued his harsh thrusting and rubbing clit, both fast and hard. They were almost done collecting the bodies outside. You needed to hurry. Thanos groaned and fasten his pace as much as he could. He buried his face onto the back of your shoulder, slightly biting it. Making you clench around him. You were close. "I'm close!" You moaned, Thanos was more busy trying to get you to cum. He put even more effort into rubbing your clit and his pace. The hand that was once in your breast, now hold your hip tightly. You felt his fingers and nails digging into your skin.

Finally, you and Thanos came at the same time. You moaned while he groaned in pleasure. Slowly and carefully he pulled out, looking down he saw his cum going down your leg. That was hot. You shivered slightly, feeling his cum running down your leg. When you got back to your senses. You couldn't help but question. "Wait, what if there's cameras in here and they see us?" You asked, while quickly pulling up your underwear and sweatpants. Thanos did as well. "Don't worry, I won't let them see a thing." He said, grabbing his jacket and put it on you. Then zipped it up, right on time. The door opened, it was a guard with a circle on his mask. "It's safe to come out." He said, you nodded, then grabbed your shirt and bra, quickly stuffing them into the pockets of Thanos sweater. Thanos grabbed your jacket with your number and put it on. As you both walked back to the starting point. You kind of walked weird, you felt Thanos sticky cum sticking to your sweatpants. Thanos noticed and couldn't help but smirk.

[cjlouwho]

Hello my love ❤️

How about "board game dispute" for a Bucktommy drabble

anything for you, love! Although it went a little long... oops 😬

"Well-"

"Don't say it."

"I really don't see a way around it, Tommy."

"We're not-"

"We have to get a divorce."

Tommy sighed. "We've talked about this before, Evan. You're not hearing me out. Relationships are about compromise."

"I compromised when we named our last daughter Jade. I don't understand why you won't just give me this."

"Because I am not sending our child to school and letting her be bullied over having the name Ambrosia. It's a fruit salad, Evan! She'll be walking into kindergarten with her two dads and telling everyone she's a fruit salad!"

Tommy took a breath, reaching over to take Buck's hand. The second he touched him, Buck jerked his hand away and crossed his arms. "I don't think you're giving kids today enough credit. It's not the way-"

"It's exactly the way it used to be! Sometimes it's worse than it used to be and-

"I really think you-"

"you should listen to-"

"Guys!" Maddie yelled from across the table.

They went silent, both turning to her. That's when they noticed she was the only other one at the table.

"Where... Where'd everyone go?" Buck asked.

"Hen and Karen left ten minutes ago, and Howie headed to bed five minutes after that. This isn't even how Life is played, you guys! You don't have to name the children at all." She picked up one of the pegs and tapped it on the table, causing both Tommy and Buck to gasp at their "child" being potentially harmed. "See," she said. "Not real."

Tommy pursed his lips and Buck unfolded his arms. Maddie was hopeful she got through to them, until-

"What about Amber?" Buck asked.

"That's fin- Wait, how are you spelling Amber? Please tell me there isn't a y, Ev-"

"Just two, I promise!"

"No!"

"You're being stubborn!"

"You're being unreasonable!"

"You know what," Maddie stood, backing away from the table, "I'm going to bed. You two can see yourselves out. Don't forget to lock up."

Buck waved her off, keeping his focus on Tommy. "One y?"

"No!"

"Tommy!"

"Evan!"

[riddlessecretss]

Come to bed, cariño.

Carlos sainz x !painter!reader.

Wc-630.

Warnings- just some kisses, just fluff.

Summary- Staying up late to finish your painting before the deadline until Carlos gets too needy.

You listen to your music singing along adding white strokes to help let the water waves shine. This past week has been very stressful trying to get all your artworks done, your are now starting your fifth piece out of eight. Carlos hasn’t had a problem with you being in your art room 24/7 since he has so many workshops and media trips, but at night you both made a promise to go bed on time with each other if we are together. So when you are late to cuddle with him he comes looking for you.

“Baby? Come on let’s get some sleep you can finish this tommorow!” He rushes you sweetly, waiting for you to make a move before realising you have headphones on. You take them of feeling Carlos’ hands warm a place on your shoulders. “Hey guapo, you ok?” ~handsome~ You look up to see Carlos’ wet hair.

“Yeah, are you coming to bed I want to hear about your day cariño, hmm?” He smiles and kisses your cheek.

“Yes im coming darling I just need to finish this, all I have to do is add varnish now.”

You get up aiming to get the varnish but Carlos grabs it and holds it above your head. “Carlos I know what you’re doing but if I leave the varnish for tomorrow it won’t set in time, I need to do this, this is my job!” You get on your tip toes pulling his arm down to try and grab the bottle.

“You don’t need a job anyway, you know I can aid you for the rest of your life. Come on baby.” He whispers the last part while leaning down to hug you.

You take this opportunity to grab the bottle from his hands and kiss his cheek. “Now sit down while I do this ok? I’ll make it fun..” you giggle before playing ‘smooth operator’ by Sade after he sits down watching him smirk. He quietly sings along as you paint over the thin coat. “

Let me just wash my hands ok?” I smile standing up and stretching.

“Yeah what set do you want to sleep in mi vida?”

“Umm you pick, im guessing you’ve already had a shower judging by your wet hair, but I’m just going to have a quick five minute one to get off the paint from my arms and chest.” You follow Carlos upstairs after turning off all the lights.

“Tomorrow we are going to visit my dad and piñon my mum won’t be there but if we stay a bit late we can see her, are you coming?”

“Yeah I will come I love piñon.” You start the shower as Carlos brushes his teeth and waiting for you to get out. As you leave the shower and get ready for bed you have a good idea. “Carlos? Can we get a dog?” Carlos smiles and walks over to you, “how did you know I wanted one? I’ve thought about it for a while. Even when we are gone they can play with piñon.” You smile and kiss Carlos softly, “what a good idea my love.”

You smile warmly into your hug then settling into bed. Carlos cuddles you and you cuddle close to get warm. “So how was your day cariño?” You take a second to think about what you have done apart from painting, “well I pretty much just painted the whole day but I also had a meeting with my manager and my pay is going up. That’s why is was so important for me to finish that piece.” You smile and turn to face Carlos.

“Mm well done my artista.” You giggle and kiss Carlos romantically,”I love you baby.”

“I love you too cariño even when you’re stubborn.”

[thursdayinspace]

ficlet: quarantine

I needed fluff, so I wrote some. Perhaps a little messy, but definitely fluffy, post-Firewalker. They're in quarantine and Scully is bored. Mulder isn't.

She expected him to get restless and irritable before the end of their first day in quarantine. It’s been five days now, and although he’s been pacing a lot and at times talked for fifteen minutes straight about random cryptids she’d never heard about before, he does seem to be handling this a lot better than she is. Most of the time, he seems almost content.

She can’t say the same about herself. There’s simply nothing to do and she’s bored out of her mind. Standing still gives her too much time to think, and that’s the last thing she wants to be doing right now.

“Are you even listening to me?” he asks, and when she looks up at him from her seat on her uncomfortable chair and meets his eyes across the tiny table they use for their meals, the corners of his mouth are twitching with a barely held-back grin.

“No,” she admits. “Sorry. What were you saying? Something about… banjos?”

“Banshees,” he says. “It doesn’t matter. What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.” She sighs.

“Come on.” He leans forward, arms folded on the table. “You can talk to me. There’s… actually not much else to do here.”

“Yeah.” She leans back with another sigh. “That’s exactly the problem.”

“You’re bored?”

“Aren’t you?”

“Well.” He shrugs. “Yeah. Of course I’m bored. We have nothing to do and nowhere to go and there’s absolutely nothing good on TV.”

“And we’re gonna be stuck here for several more weeks,” she points out, pushing herself up out of her chair to walk over to their single window. It’s completely dark outside. Time has lost all meaning. It could be late evening. It could be past midnight. It doesn’t seem to matter anymore.

“It’s not so bad,” he says, and she twirls around to him.

“Mulder, there is nothing to do here. Nothing.”

“So we’ll come up with something,” he suggests, getting up and making his way over to her. He stands so close she has to lean her head all the way back to look up at him. She’s in her socks and he’s so tall. And he’s smiling. Something aches deep in her gut.

“Like what?” she asks.

“I don’t know.” He bites his lip and seems to think about it.

He’s so beautiful it hurts her heart. Being stuck here is bad enough. Being stuck here with him is torture. Ever since she came back, he’s been so attentive, so careful with her. She can feel him looking at her when he thinks she won’t notice. And he’s always there. All the time. As if he’s afraid she’ll disappear again. And she doesn’t know what any of it means. She knows he wore her necklace when she was missing.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he says at last, and that makes her laugh out loud.

“We can’t,” she reminds him. “We literally can’t, Mulder.”

“Sure we can.”

He takes her hand and places it in the crook of his elbow, eyes sparkling as he grins at her widely.

“What are you—” She shakes her head. “What are we doing?”

“I told you,” he says, “We’re going for a walk.” And then he’s leading her across the small room into the tiny hallway separating their bedrooms, where he starts walking them up and down the same few feet of space. She can’t help it, she dissolves into a fit of giggles after the third turn.

“Nice weather we’re having today, don’t you think?” he says, and she holds his arm with both hands and leans into his side, the sensation of laughter unfamiliar in her chest.

“You’re crazy.”

“So I’ve been told. Many times. By you, actually.”

“In the best way. I like it.”

“Oh,” he says, sounding pleased, and a little surprised. “I haven’t heard that before.”

She stops them in their tracks and steps in front of him. “You know I mean it like that every time, right?” she says. “If I ever—”

“I know, Scully,” he promises, and the smile in his voice convinces her that he’s telling the truth.

“Good. Okay.”

“Do you want to keep going?” he asks. “I’ve been told the view doesn’t change at all the further you go. Might be worth exploring.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” The words slip out before she can stop them, and the happiness in her voice makes her blush. She didn’t mean to reveal that much.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I know the feeling.”

She lowers her eyes and doesn’t know what to say. It’s a new problem. They’ve always had an easy back and forth, even their arguments often comforting in a way she never properly understood. Suddenly, everything seems filled with too much meaning. Or maybe that’s wishful thinking on her part. It’s just that she remembers the look in his eyes when he visited her in the hospital after she woke up.

“Hey, Scully?”

She nods, reluctantly lifting her head when he puts two fingers under her chin. “What is it?”

“I just want you to know…” He pauses for a second. “I just want you to know that I’d rather be in here, bored out of my mind with you, than healthy and having fun out there without you.”

“I, um.” She frantically searches for something to say, but he’s standing here, his fingers caressing her cheek now, and he is so warm and smells so good, and she simply can’t remember how language works for the moment.

“It’s okay,” he assures her. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

“No,” she says quickly. “No, I understand. I… guess I feel the same way.”

“Oh.” There’s something so hopeful in his expression, and she gives him the tiniest nod, hoping he’ll understand.

And he does, of course he does.

She can’t remember any kiss ever feeling like this. His lips just rest against hers, lingering, unmoving, and she feels it all the way down to her toes. Her hands come up to cup his elbows and he takes her face firmly between his large, soft hands, and by the time he pulls back, the world has rearranged itself around them.

“Was that okay?” he asks, and she puts one palm over his rapidly beating heart.

“I think I just thought of a few things we can do while we’re stuck here,” she says.

“Yeah?” He slides his arms around her waist and pulls her closer. “Like what?”

She rises up onto her toes to kiss him again, and finds that another three weeks of this doesn’t sound quite so bad anymore.

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 The Girl Next Door.

Spencer Reid x Neighbor!reader

series masterlist

Summary: If Spencer thought being secretly in love with you was hard, having to avoid you in the hallway was even worse.

Words: 4,8k.

Warnings & Tags: mention of jail. painting!reader. post prison reid. spencer’s pov. lack of communication. the reader has a cat. angst, so much angst. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I struggled a lot writing this because it's a roller coaster, so sorry in advance.

“How long? It's not a problem to take care of everything, but I'd like to know if you'll be okay or—” Your voice almost cracked for a moment, your eyes still trying to adjust to the sunlight streaming in through the bedroom window. Spencer's sheets were still wrapped around your body, and you felt so connected to them that the thought of getting up while still watching him toss and turn looking for his shoes was too much.

“I don't think more than a day or two, I'll be fine.” He stopped his chaotic steps for a second and stared at you as if to make a promise. He paused, glancing away as if to compose himself before adding, “I have some work in Mexico. It came up last minute, or I’d have told you earlier.” His voice faltered, almost imperceptibly, and the words sounded rehearsed, like he was repeating something he’d practiced.

You frowned slightly, confusion flickering across your face. “Work in Mexico?” you echoed. “Since when do they send you out of the country for cases?”

“It’s not that kind of work,” he said quickly, his tone just a little too smooth, a little too practiced. “It’s…consulting. A conference on forensic advancements, some behavioral workshops—things like that.” He kept his gaze on the floor as he spoke, as if afraid to meet your eyes. “I won’t be gone long.”

You didn’t question him further. Why would you? Spencer wasn’t the type to lie, and the way his brows knit together, the way his voice softened with the promise, “I’ll be back soon,” made you believe him. But something about the way he shifted his weight, the way he avoided looking directly at you, left a faint unease in your chest.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t have dinner with you yesterday. And breakfast now. I’ll make it up to you when I get back,” he added, his words tumbling out in a rush, as if trying to fill the silence.

You tightened the sheets around yourself, curling into their warmth, feeling the lingering heat from the side of the bed where he had been only moments before. It felt like he had never really left, the space around you still filled with the faint echo of his presence. Watching him now, his movements a little frantic, his gaze flickering toward the clock every so often, made you feel like he was slipping away too quickly. A part of you, small and selfish, wanted to ask him to stay. To sit back down, to let the world and his trip wait just a little longer.

But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you whispered, barely above a breath, as if afraid to disturb the fragile moment, “Promise?”

Spencer’s gaze softened even further, a tenderness washing over his features as he moved closer to you. His lips curled into a faint smile, one that didn’t quite touch his eyes but was filled with something that made your chest tighten. “Promise,” he replied, his voice firm but gentle, as though sealing a pact between the two of you. He leaned down, his warm breath brushing your forehead before his lips followed, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against your skin. The kiss was tender, quiet, and almost reluctant, as though he didn’t want to pull away from this moment either. For a moment, his forehead rested against yours, the space between you vanishing entirely. It felt like the world had narrowed to just this—just the two of you—and all the invisible lines you had drawn between friendship and something more blurred into nothing.

But before you could do something stupid, he pulled back, with his eyes lingering on you, still filled with a softness that made your heart flutter. “Have you seen my shoe?” he asked, his voice playful yet tinged with the usual frustration of his misplaced belongings.

You let out a small laugh, still wrapped in the sheets, the warmth from them mingling with the warmth of the moment. “Oh, you’re a mess, little boy,” you teased, your voice light and affectionate, the fondness for him slipping out in every word.

“Mittens take it again?” Spencer asked, his eyes glinting with playful exasperation. He had grown accustomed to your cat’s antics, and he could hardly be surprised at this point.

You nodded, grinning as you pointed to the underside of the bed. “Ding ding, genius,” you replied, your voice light and teasing as his gaze followed your finger. Sure enough, there it was, tucked under the bed—another casualty of your mischievous cat’s nightly adventures.

He grumbled good-naturedly, but a soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips, as if the chaos of the morning didn't matter when you were here with him and everything felt so domestic. As he bent down to pick up his shoe, you couldn't help but watch, your heart swelling at the sight of the man you were so in love with, even in his messiest moments. There was something about him—something in that moment—that made him feel so good, as if everything else could wait and the obvious fact that he didn't feel the same way about you didn't matter. Anyone outside the room generally didn't matter. For now, it was just the two of you, tangled in sheets and laughter, clinging to a piece of time that was all yours and would be the only thing you'd have left when he was gone.

“She loves you, that’s why she does it…I guess she wants your attention,” you said, your voice trailing off, and the taste of the words felt sour in your mouth. It sounded too much like you were talking about yourself rather than your pet, and the realization hit you like a cold wave. It made your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t explain, and you immediately wished you could take the words back. But you didn’t.

He glanced at you, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. “I read something about that,” he said, his voice light, but you could tell he didn’t entirely understand the weight behind your words. It didn’t matter. You were used to it by now.

“You read about everything.” You gave him a small, rueful smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes, the bitterness of the moment creeping into your voice. You were fine with it, you told yourself. Fine with everything.

He glanced at the clock, a quiet sigh escaping him. “I have to go…it’s late,” he said, and you could hear the quiet resignation in his voice. The moment, it seemed, had reached its inevitable end.

“Okay.” The word slipped out of your mouth more dryly than you intended, and you hated the way it sounded. You didn’t want him to leave. You didn’t want the moment to end. But it was already slipping away, and you knew it. “But before you go…come here.”

He hesitated, looking at you with uncertainty in his eyes. But then, slowly, he took a step toward you, his face softening when you reached out to touch his cheek. The moment your fingers brushed against his skin, he shivered, and your heart skipped a beat at the contact.

“Is…is something wrong?” he asked, his voice softer now, as if sensing the shift between you.

“No, I just want to say goodbye properly.” You shifted closer, your heart hammering as you moved toward him, your lips hovering near his. The temptation to close the distance, to kiss him, burned inside you. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

“Take care and come back,” you whispered, the words carrying more weight than you meant. You kissed his forehead gently, your fingers instinctively smoothing his hair down as you did. “Now it’s like you have my blessing,” you added with a faint smile.

He smiled at you, the warmth in his expression a bittersweet thing that made your heart ache. “Thank you, and good luck tomorrow with my godchildren’s.” His voice was soft, but the moment was already passing, slipping away, and with it, the space between you both. He gathered his things, gave you one last lingering look, and then turned toward the door.

You stood there, watching him go, the weight of what you didn’t say crashing down on you. The door clicked shut behind him, and you felt a hollow ache in your chest, a longing you couldn’t quite name.

God, you really wanted kissed him.

God, he really wanted you kissed him.

When Spencer opened his eyes for the first time in a cell and felt a sickening jolt of disorientation. The dirty walls and a rickety bench stared back at him, mocking the comforting image of his organized room and, more painfully, the thought of you. The absence of your laughter, your touch, your presence—everything that had once grounded him—hit him like a freight train. He knew something was wrong.

As the days blurred together and the evidence piled against him, he clung to the belief that this nightmare wasn’t real. Every hearing, every damning piece of evidence that chipped away at his freedom, felt surreal. Even when the judge handed down his sentence, condemning him to months behind bars, the finality of it didn’t register. What shattered him was the moment he filled out his visitation schedule and consciously omitted your name. He hadn’t wanted you to see him like that. He didn’t ask anyone to explain, didn’t try to soften the blow of his absence. That, he thought, was the point of no return—the moment he lost everything.

But Spencer was so wrong. The true breaking point came when he walked out of that hellhole, finally free, and climbed the stairs to his apartment. Each step was a physical ache, the pain in his chest sharper and heavier with every step. His hands trembled as he reached for his keys, the jangling sound unnervingly loud in the empty hallway. His gaze fell on your door, just a few steps away. The familiar sight sent his stomach into knots.

For the first time, he wished you wouldn’t be there.

The thought was alien, unnatural. You had always been there, and he had always wanted you there. When he was too drained to cook, you’d suggest their usual coffee spot, your smile lighting up the grayest of mornings. When his back ached from long nights bent over case files, you’d massage his shoulders, insisting scented candles could fix his bad posture and his bad days. When his mother’s health took a downturn, and he felt his world crumbling, you’d hold him, stroke his back, and promise that everything would be okay. And when his social battery was drained at reunions, you’d step in with your bad jokes or your art facts, making the world feel manageable again.

Now, standing in front of his own door, his fingers clumsy with the lock, all he could hope for was silence. He didn’t know how to face you, didn’t know if he could explain the broken pieces of himself.

His door creaked open, and he was greeted by the familiar scent of the home he had only dreamed of for the last while. It was overwhelming: clean clothes, slightly sweet candles, and something undeniably yours. The apartment was exactly as he remembered it, as if time had stopped the moment he left three months ago and never returned until now. His heart shrank as he took it all in: the blanket you insisted on leaving on the couch, the pile of books you always meant to return to his library but never did, his fish swimming around as if nothing had happened, and even the plants by the window, thriving despite his absence because you had surely watered them without fail.

And then there were the little details, things that told him that you had not moved away from this place, from him. The plate you always left for his cup of coffee, the one you gave him last Christmas, was still on the counter. His favorite cardigan, the one he thought he had misplaced, was folded neatly on the back of the chair and smelled of the baby softener you liked to use. His books were exactly where he had left them, although one of them had a bookmark you had made, a telltale sign that he had read it and was waiting for him to come back to comment on it, as you always did.

But he hadn’t returned.

Not then. And maybe not now at all.

Suddenly, the phone in his pocket rang, its shrill tone slicing through the heavy silence like a sharp reminder of reality. The vibration against his skin startled him, his body tensing as he pulled the device out. His gaze flickered down to the screen, and the name that appeared caused a knot to form in his stomach: JJ. His thumb hovered over the screen, his mind racing, unsure if he was ready for the conversation he knew would follow. But deep down, he knew there was no avoiding her. Jennifer wouldn’t let him slip away unnoticed, and if he didn’t answer, she might show up at his door, demanding answers he wasn’t sure he had.

With a resigned sigh, he swiped the screen and lifted the phone to his ear. “Is everything okay?”

The concern in his own voice surprised him. Maybe it was instinct, or maybe he was just desperate to shift the focus away from himself.

“Everything’s fine,” JJ replied, her voice steady but laced with something deeper. “I just wanted to check in. You’ve been…quiet.”

He exhaled slowly, staring out the window, the city lights stretching before him and the memories cutting deep. “Yeah,” he said, his voice low. “Just trying to catch up on things. All good here.”

“Okay,” she said softly, and there was a pause—a hesitation that made his pulse quicken. He could almost hear her thinking, weighing her next words. Then she cleared her throat, the sound small but deliberate. “Have you seen…her?”

The question hit him like a physical blow, stealing the air from his lungs. He turned away from the window abruptly, pacing the length of the apartment as if motion could somehow ease the tension coiling tighter and tighter in his chest. “No,” he said quickly, too quickly. His jaw clenched, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I don’t know if I want to.”

The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, and he wasn’t sure if he believed it himself. How could he say that when every thought of you still made his heart ache? When the idea of you haunted him, so vivid and constant it felt like you were in every shadow of his empty apartment?

Jennifer’s sigh crackled over the line, heavy and filled with the weight of unspoken truths. “She’s been asking about you,” she said softly, her voice tinged with that unshakable sadness she tried so hard to hide. “Every time I see her. I think…” She hesitated again, and Spencer could hear her swallow hard, choosing her next words carefully. “I think you owe her an explanation.”

He swallowed saliva and tightened his fingers around the phone. JJ was right, of course. She always had been. But the idea of facing you, of trying to explain everything without drowning in tears, seemed impossible. How could he tell you the truth? How could he look you in the eye and admit that he had spent the last three months in jail, paying for a crime he had not committed? That he had done things that he deeply regretted, that made him sick and a horrible person?

You deserved better. You always had.

You were a blessing to anyone who had you around, and he knew that better than anyone. That's why he recommended you as a babysitter for JJ's kids, that's why he insisted that you come out to the bar with him and the team several times, that's why he told his mother about you, and that's why he gave you unlimited access to every single part of his life and told you things he'd never told anyone else. You were the one he thought of during those long, sleepless nights behind bars when JJ brought drawings from her boys. He imagined you there with them, sitting cross-legged on the floor, helping Henry with his homework or letting Michael pile blocks on your lap. It was silly—heartbreaking, even—but the thought of you, of your warmth and your kindness, had kept him going.

“I have to go…clean some things,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, so desperate to run away from the topic.

“Okay,” JJ replied softly, her voice tinged with sadness. “Tell me if you need anything.”

Before Spencer could find the strength to speak, the line fell silent. The hum of the apartment filled the space around him, oppressive in its quiet, and he stood there, phone still clenched in his hand. The weight of it, the weight of everything, settled deeper into his chest, making it hard to breathe. He stared at the counter as if it could offer him some sort of escape from the quiet agony that had overtaken him. With a long exhale, he dropped the phone, his fingers lingering on it for a second longer than necessary, before pulling away with a heavy sense of finality.

Just as he was about to move, his mind already drowning in the whirlpool of thoughts he was so desperate to escape, a soft, muted thud broke the oppressive stillness of the apartment. The noise was faint, almost imperceptible, but in the suffocating quiet, it reverberated like a crack of thunder. His breath caught, his heart skipping a beat as his body went rigid. Slowly, he turned his head toward the source of the sound, his eyes locking onto the open balcony door.

A sleek black shape emerged from the shadows, moving with a practiced elegance that seemed almost ethereal in the dim light. Mittens.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice breaking on the single syllable, hoarse and unsteady as if even addressing his might shatter the fragile thread of control he was clinging to.

The cat paused for a moment, her head tilting slightly as if considering him, her eyes gleaming in the dim light. Then, without a second thought, she padded over, her steps confident and unhurried, the soft click of her claws against the floor the only sound in the room. She jumped lightly onto the couch, then onto the small table beside him, her movements fluid and practiced. As she reached him, Mittens sniffed his hand delicately, then nuzzled it gently, her warm, soft fur brushing against his fingertips. The familiar rumble of her purring filled the air, a soothing, almost hypnotic sound that cut through the tension and wrapped around him like a blanket.

Spencer let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he whispered, his voice barely audible in the quiet of the apartment. He hesitated, his fingers brushing the soft fur of her head, unable to stop himself from reaching out.

Mittens leaned into his touch, her purr intensifying as her little body pressed against his hand, seeking warmth, some affection. She didn't care about the months she hadn't seen him or just heard his name spoken a thousand times by you. To her, he was still Spencer, the same one who had fed her, played with her, and cared for her whenever he could. That was enough. She was very happy.

“You still remember me,” he murmured, a faint, fragile smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It was the first time he’d smiled in what felt like an eternity.

The cat blinked up at him, her green eyes half-lidded with contentment, as if to say, Of course I do.

For a long moment, he just stood there, his hand resting on her soft fur, letting her purring fill the empty spaces inside him. It was such a small thing, her presence, but it reminded him of you—of the life he’d left behind, the warmth he hadn’t realized he’d needed so desperately until now.

But the calm didn’t last, and Spencer’s heart nearly stopped when he heard a soft knock on the door. His gaze snapped up from the cat, who was now lazily sprawled across the arm of the couch, her purring uninterrupted. The knock came again, this time paired with a voice that sent a jolt through his chest.

“Mittens?”

The voice was muffled through the door, but he knew it instantly. It was you.

Another knock followed, gentle but insistent. “Are you here, baby?”

He froze, every muscle in his body tightening as he registered the sound of your voice. You were here, in his apartment—or at least on the threshold of it. The thought was both thrilling and terrifying. He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t ready to see you again.

The cat, oblivious to the tension that suddenly filled the room, stretched lazily before hopping down from the couch. Her tail flicked behind her as she padded toward the door, her movements casual, as if she belonged here. Her eyes were fixed on you as you stepped through the open door, your figure partially silhouetted by the light from the outside.

“There you are,” you said softly, your voice brimming with relief. The warmth in your tone hit him like a physical blow, and he had to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek to stifle the sound threatening to escape.

You crouched down to scoop the cat into your arms, your movements gentle and practiced. “You scared me,” you murmured, cradling her against your chest. Your voice softened, carrying that familiar tenderness he’d missed so desperately. “You’ve been running off so much lately.”

Spencer pressed himself against the shadowed wall, willing himself to disappear. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t even look at you for fear his body might betray him. The apartment was dark enough to hide him, but he knew the signs of his presence were everywhere—his phone abandoned on the counter, the faint indentation on the couch, the way the air seemed to shift with the weight of him being there.

You didn’t notice. Your focus was entirely on Mittens as you stroked her soft fur, your touch so gentle it made Spencer ache. “I know you miss him,” you murmured, the words falling from your lips so quietly they almost didn’t reach him. “I do too.”

The confession tore through him like a blade, sharp and unrelenting. His chest tightened, and he bit down hard on his lip, tasting the faint metallic tang of blood. Tears burned in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

You lingered for a moment, your gaze sweeping over the apartment as if you could feel his presence, even if you didn’t see him. Then, with a soft sigh, you turned back toward the door.

“Let’s go home, baby,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of Mittens’ head before stepping into the night.

The door closed with a quiet click, and Spencer was left alone once more. His knees buckled, and he sank onto the couch, his hand trembling as it pressed against his face. The silence was deafening, a hollow, aching void that swallowed him whole.

Maybe it was for the best. Maybe fate didn’t want you to see him again—at least, not yet.

But then, the next morning, it happened.

You were returning to your apartment, groceries in hand, when you saw him.

He was standing at the end of the hallway with his back to you, as if he was leaving his apartment. As soon as you saw him, your heart skipped a beat and all your rational thoughts vanished. It seemed like an eternity since you had seen him, even though it had only been a few months. Your first instinct was to run to him, throw yourself into his arms, and demand an explanation, but something about his posture made you hesitate. He was stiff, distant, almost sad. His usual warmth was nowhere to be seen. And yet there was something different about him: his long hair, now a bit wilder and more unruly, framed his face in a way you had never seen before. Some curls fell over his eyes, and his beard had grown thicker and darker. The change in his appearance was shocking.

Without thinking, you dropped your groceries at your door and hurried toward him. “Spencer!” you called, your voice trembling with a rush of emotions you had bottled up for months.

He turned slowly, and for a split second, his eyes locked with yours. There was something in his gaze—a flicker of recognition, maybe guilt, but it quickly faded, replaced by a cool distance you had never seen in him before, at least not with you. Before you could stop yourself, you reached out and pulled him into a tight hug. It was instinct, more than anything, to wrap your arms around him like you always used to do. The warmth of his body felt like home, like everything you had missed was right there in your arms. You held on tightly, breathing him in as if this would somehow make up for the absence. You’d been so lonely without him, and this, just holding him again, felt like it would fix everything that has been wrong lately.

But to your surprise, Spencer didn’t move an inch. This time his body was rigid, unyielding, as if he didn’t feel you or want you around. He did not return your hug. He didn’t even seem to acknowledge it or really want it. His arms remained stiff at his sides, and you could feel his breath hitching against your neck, but he didn’t respond. It was like hugging a stranger, someone you once knew but no longer recognized.

“God, I missed you…” You pulled back slightly, looking up at him, trying to gauge his expression, but his face was unreadable. His long hair now brushed against the collar of his shirt, the unruly beard framing his jawline. But his eyes were the only thing that stayed the same—cold and distant, void of the tenderness they once held. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer immediately. The silence hung between you, thick and oppressive, before he finally spoke, his voice flat. “Sorry, I…I don’t think I’m the best person for that right now.”

Your heart sank, the warmth of the hug and reunion evaporating into a hollow chill. “What happened?” you whispered, feeling the pain creep into your voice. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you say anything? I was so worried for you and JJ don’t say so much.”

He didn’t smile. He didn’t even look like Spencer, not the one you had known—kind, warm, and always ready to offer comfort. His face was hard, closed off, and distant. He seemed…different, almost cold. “I’m sorry, I needed to get to…work,” he said, his voice clipped and curt. “I didn’t think you’d be awake at this hour.”

You felt a pang of confusion and hurt at his words. “What do you mean? You didn’t want to see me? You haven’t been here in months,” you said, the bitterness creeping into your voice. “You just disappear, and then you show up here, like nothing happened? You sleep here? I came to your apartment last night, and you weren’t there.”

He didn’t react. No apology, no acknowledgment of the pain he’d caused. He just stood there, cold, distant. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words almost sounding like an afterthought. “I had work to do. It’s…complicated.”

“Complicated?” The word tasted bitter on your tongue. “That’s all you’ve got after disappearing for three months?”

Finally, his eyes met yours again, but there was no warmth in them. No tenderness, no familiarity. His gaze was hard, as cold as his words. “I don’t owe you an explanation,” he said sharply, his tone final, cutting through the air like a knife.

It felt like a punch to the gut. The warmth that had once filled your heart whenever Spencer entered a room, the gentle care he had shown you, was now replaced by something colder. It was as if the person you had known—the person who had been your friend, your confidant—had vanished along with the man who used to leave you sweet notes and show up with your favorite food after a rough day.

“You…you don’t owe me anything?” you whispered, your heart breaking with each word.

The silence stretched between you again, suffocating. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “I’m sorry.”

But it was hollow, empty. A formality. Not an apology that meant anything.

And then, just as quickly as he had appeared, he turned, walking away. “I have to go,” he said, his voice softer now, but still detached.

Before you could say anything else, he turned, leaving as quickly as he had appeared. And just like that, he was gone again—leaving you alone with the deafening silence and a heart full of questions.

Just like your worst fear: Spencer was avoiding you in the hallway.

[luckykiwiii101]

“WHO PUT THE WORLD ON MY BACK AND NOT IN MY HANDS?” 🎶

XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GRL

XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GRL

ﾟ can I exhale for a minute..? ࿐

p.s. are you feeling stressed? doubtful? regretful? disappointed? hopeless? frustrated? jealous? doomed? out of control? off track? just negatively towards manifestation overall?

Well then this post is perfect for that little outer self of yours who needs a little guidance from your inner (real) self.

NOTE: If you can’t see the darker text, turn your colour palette to goth/rave.

Hey my gorgeous upper east siders. This is going to be a gossip girl informational + comfort post (not much I haven’t told you already), consider this a post you’ll come back to every time you feel like you need internal guidance from yourself, and most importantly, a moment to breathe, and exhale.

Once upon a time, a wise woman asked “can I exhale for a minute?”, and that wise woman is named Sabrina Carpenter. This post is inspired by her song exhale. It’s a very calming song, that acknowledges how it feels to not be listened to, and mental health is very important. Yet it’s such an overlooked topic in the loa community, unfortunately. Especially when it comes to manifesting the things you want. Beating yourself up when another year goes by and you let yourself down, not acknowledging your power.

Sometimes you just find yourself asking “who put the world on my back and not in my hands?”

Well the truth is, that someone is you. We all know it. And this post is not about scolding you for it. It’s about knowing how to deal with that feeling and remembering where it comes from.

First of all, acknowledge that the outer self is the one who’s talking. The outer self is the one reacting that way. Reacting so negatively to the law of assumption. Realise that this outer self is not the one who holds the desired assumption. So why would what the outer self feels affect the desired assumption? It doesn’t.

You may wonder what the point of me telling you that was.

Well it’s because if there’s one thing I can promise you, it’s that your negative feelings towards manifestation come from the outer self. Those negative feelings are never coming from the inner self. I promise you that. And acknowledging that, is power.

Why? Because when you acknowledge that those negative feelings come from the outer you, your inner self cannot take accountability for it. And wait, wait, wait. I know what you’re thinking. Accountability? All I mean by that, is that your inner self (real you) cannot take accountability for those negative feelings, because the real you is not the one feeling them. Those feelings come from the one who sees nothing but limitations and therefore has reason to doubt.

This also applies to fulfillment. When you feel fulfilled, the inner self is the one who is accountable for that. Not the outer self.

So just know that every time “you’re” feeling low, it’s the outer self feeling low. The feeling indicates who you are identifying with. Use that feeling as a weapon. It’s letting you know how to get back on track and who you should be identifying with. It is everything.

Once you’ve understood that, I want you to take a deep breath. Just breathe. Feel the relief knowing that you cannot identify with those negative feelings, because they simply have nothing to do with you. Even if you wanted those negative feelings to be a part of you, they simply can’t. Because they will always come from the outer self, never the inner self.

You are not the one feeling stressed. You are not the one feeling doubtful. You are not the one feeling regretful. You are not the one feeling disappointed. You are not the one feeling hopeless. You are not the one feeling frustrated. You are not the one feeling jealous. You are not the one feeling doomed. You are not the one feeling out of control. You are not the one feeling off track.

The outer self is the only one with the capability to experience such negative feelings. But when you aren’t identifying with the outer self, it literally doesn’t matter. Because when you are identifying with the inner self, those negative feelings are non existent. And the point is, when the outer self is feeling those negative feelings, you start to feel as if you don’t have it and that you’ve “ruined progress”. But as I said before, the the outer self is not the one holding the desired assumption, so why would what the outer self feels affect the desired assumption? Say that i’m holding an apple in my hand, and you’re holding a different apple in your hand. If I take a bite out of my apple, it does not affect your apple, at all. And it’s ridiculous to believe that just because I took a bite out of my apple, that the bite mark would show up on yours.

All i’m saying here, is that when you’re feeling like sh*t, it’s just the outer self feeling that way. It’s not you (inner self) feeling that way. And therefore does not affect the inner self at all. The inner self is never affected by the outer self. The outer self is only affected by the inner self. That’s why you change self. You change self from outer self TO inner self. You are just changing who you are identifying with.

When you realise this, you realise that progress cannot be ruined. There is no progress to ruin because manifestation is not a process. There is only having it now. Know that there are no negative feelings to get in your way. Internal guidance is all you’ll ever need. The answer is always within you. No one else.

SUMMARY OF THIS POST INTO 3 QUOTES:

✩ “this outer self is not the one who holds the desired assumption. So why would what the outer self feels affect the desired assumption? It doesn’t.”

✩ “inner self (real you) cannot take accountability for those negative feelings, because the real you is not the one feeling them. Those feelings come from the one who sees nothing but limitations and therefore has reason to doubt.”

✩ “progress cannot be ruined. There is no progress to ruin because manifestation is not a process. There is only having it now. Know that there are no negative feelings to get in your way.”

A wrong self identification will have you falling hard, but not in-love. XOXO

- gossip girl

XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GRL

XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GRL

[witchygagirlwrites]

Not Him

Jay Halstead x Reader

You love your job in intelligence. It provides it's challenges along the way though and the biggest one proves to be that you and your partner can't get along.

Rivals to lovers 👀 I'd say I'm sorry for how feral this man makes me but I'm not.

You enjoyed working in intelligence. Voight was a bit of a hard ass but if you were one of his detectives he would go to bat for you if something happened. You handled some of the hardest cases to hit the CPD and was a pretty well respected unit.

You loved working out of the twenty first, Trudy ran a tight ship of her house and it always ran fairly smoothly. You were long time friends with Kim, Adam and Kevin and it hadn't taken long for a friendship to form between you and Hailey.

All in all it should seem besides the hazards of your job you should be happy in it. You probably would be if it wasn't for the fact that you and your partner couldn't get along for over five minutes if your lives weren't currently on the line.

Jay was a damn good cop. He went above and beyond at his job and you trusted him with your life when it came down to it but that didn't change the fact that when danger wasn't in the equation you two were constantly at each other's throats.

“For fucks sake Halstead!” For a second you considered just how pissed Voight would get if you aimed your coffee for the back of Jay's head as the two of you walked up the stairs. He'd purposely held the gate until you were almost to it then let it slam shut in your face.

He glanced over his shoulder at you, a smirk slipping onto his face “If your short ass throws that coffee at me I'm moving all of your gear onto the top shelf” 

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of the coffee to emphasize the fact that you clearly weren't going to do that, annoyed that he'd yet again been able to anticipate what you were thinking.

He raised an eyebrow at you before heading towards his desk. You headed towards yours, smiling when Hailey told you good morning “Morning Hails. At least you know how to talk to a partner” you glared across the room at Jay who smirked “Aww did I hurt your feelings? Admit it and I'll apologize”

“You know what…” you started but was interrupted by Voight coming out of his office “Alright, listen up” 

_________________

You moved around your desk to sit on the edge of it as he ran down the most recent case. There were guns coming in, highly modified, highly illegal guns. Someone had to go under to pose as a buyer so all of you could trace them back to the source and hit the high man on the totem pole instead of just the salesperson.

He pointed at Jay “Halstead you're up on this. You fit the mark” “Pretentious white guy?” You asked which earned you matching glares from Voight and Jay but a muffled laugh from Kim. 

Voight turned his eyes on you “I wouldn't get ahead of myself sweetheart. Your partner needs backup. You're going under as his wife”

“Yes sir” you replied, knowing you'd pushed too far from his tone. You cut your eyes at Jay who was already staring you down “C.I. is gonna set the initial meet for tomorrow night. You two get your story straight and get ready” Voight ordered before going into a preraid plan.

Great. You and Jay had to act like a married couple, undercover which meant trying to avoid a dangerous situation. How the hell were you gonna make it through without killing each other?

Kim was helping you to get ready and Hailey was wiring you up. Voight gave you three the use of the tech room while Jay was upstairs using the locker room.

“Try not to kill him?” Kim asked as she put the final touches on your hair. “I don't kill suspects for no reason Kim, damn” Hailey glanced up from where she was running the wire along your bra “She means Jay”

You cracked a laugh “Oh, no promises on that one” they both shook their heads. “You two are ridiculous” Kim laughed so you shrugged, trying to think of a reply other than “He started it”

“He's insufferable” you scoffed and they shared a look before laughing again. A knock at the door made all three of you look before Kevin's voice drifted through “Hey, yall ready?” 

“Come on in Kev. I'm dressed!” You hollered and he opened the door. He let his eyes flit over you then nodded “Damn, you clean up good” you put one hand on your hip and looked at Kim “Was that a compliment or insult? Felt like it could go either way” 

She laughed as Kevin started to backpedal “No…I just meant” “Easy Kevin. I'm messing with you” you laughed, grabbing your jacket off the desk.

You followed Kevin out into roll up with Hailey and Kim following the two of you. “Where's Jay?” You asked and his voice came from behind you “Right here”

You turned around and tried to not let your eyes wander. Jay was an asshole to you ninety percent of the time but damn if he wasn't the most gorgeous man you'd ever laid your eyes on. The fitted black suit he wore hugged his shoulders beautifully, the stark white shirt making his eyes seem an even brighter shade of blue. 

You swallowed hard and turned your eyes to Voight who had just walked down the stairs “What's the play boss?” 

You sat in the passenger seat of the Ashton Martin that was being used as Jay's car. It felt insane being in a car that would pay off your mortgage but that was your job.

Jay bumped your arm over the console “Act like it's your husband's car. You're too damn stiff” you glanced towards him, watching as he steered the car through the busy street confidently as if it didn't cost what it cost. 

You didn't want to admit the act of confidence was sexy in itself. “Maybe I'd be less stiff if I liked my husband?” You teased, turning your head to look at him. 

His jaw clenched tightly before he said “I want to choke the life out of you half the time and yet I can act like I am an adoring husband" you raised an eyebrow “That's kinda kinky of you to say Jay, not gonna lie” and was rewarded with a light blush gracing his cheeks. Luckily your coms weren't active until you got to the meet so no-one else heard that little comment.

He shook his head “You're a fucking pain in my ass” You grinned “right back at ya partner” then settled into the seat, smoothing your dress down your legs. You noticed his eyes flicker your way when you adjusted the long slit that was on the side and smirked to yourself.

The slit was the selling point. Made your legs easier to use over a dress this style without one. Now you were thinking it had a different selling point if it helped you torment Jay. 

Jay's fingers dug into your hips to the point you knew that you'd have bruises come morning. Thankfully you were single because damn that would be hard to explain.

“What's wrong baby?” He whispered into the shell of your right ear, low enough the suspect or com wouldn't pick it up.  “I hate being in your presence, I hope you know that.” you replied in the same tone and he grinned adjusting his thigh that was under you just enough a gasp of surprise left you  “You’re literally sitting half on my lap.” “Because there is nowhere else to sit!” you bit back before the suspect started talking about the actual sale that demanded both of yours full attention.

________________

By the time you were able to leave the meet you were fairly certain you very well may murder Jay.

The sale was set with the pretense that the big boss had to be there. He would call Jay and it would go from there.

You sat down in the passenger seat of the Ashton Martin and this time nearly melted into the seat. Jay pulled out onto the road and cut his eyes at you “You seem relaxed now” you glared at him “What the fuck was that about?”

He shrugged “Honestly? It was funny as hell to watch you squirm after I saw you checking me out back at the precinct” your mouth fell open “I was not” he chuckled “It's ok partner. You can look”

“You’re not that good looking, alright?” you damn near growled and he basically fucking preened “So you admit I’m good looking?” “What? N-no. Never.” You kicked yourself when you stammered. 

He pulled to a stop at a red light and turned his head to look at you. His eyes drifted from yours down to your neck then followed the low neckline of your dress “I'm looking so what's the shame in you looking?”

Before you could respond the light turned green and he pulled away. You clenched your thighs together, trying to soothe the ache his words and the weight of his stare had caused. So this was his newest torment? Oh you could play that game.

 

Ok, so maybe you didn't have to slip in front of Jay to grab a cup of coffee. It was the last cup and he had already had two. You overestimated the amount of room however and felt his hips bump into yours, his crotch effectively being pressed against your ass.

You looked over your shoulder up at him and the fire in his eyes made you bite your cheek to keep from making a noise. “Wanting me to bend you over that bad?” He asked low and you glared at him “Shut up before I-” he leaned down to the point his body was nearly folded over yours  “Before you what, huh? No, say it. Let me see if you can finish that sent-” 

With no other idea you grabbed one of the mini muffins Kim had bought in that morning and shoved it into his mouth, using the shock of the moment to untangle yourself from him. 

He shook his head, chewing the muffin as he laughed. You weren't sure where this little game was headed but you were damn sure playing with fire because you had just nearly folded like a $2 lawn chair in a hurricane.

 

You were sitting in the passenger seat of Jay's truck, trying to ignore his eyes on you. The two of you were sitting on a C.I. for Voight 

“When's the last time you dated anyone?” He asked breaking the silence and you laughed sharply “Dated or fucked, which we talking here?”

His smirk dropped “When's the last time you fucked someone?” Your tongue slipped out to wet your bottom lip, your clit throbbing when you saw his eyes track the movement. “A few months ago” you admitted honestly, despite knowing this was so far off conversation you should be having with him.

“Explains why you're so bitchy” he shrugged. You felt anger flicker to life in your stomach “Fuck you Jay. You're not exactly a ray of sunshine either there partner” 

He adjusted down in the seat, the movement pulling your eyes to his crotch and you mentally kicked yourself for doing such. “Maybe I need a good fuck too and it's a pain in the ass to constantly be stuck in close quarters with you when all I can think about is the fact that you wouldn't be able to bitch at me if your face was down in my bed”

“Jay!” You gasped and he smirked “What? C'mon you've never thought about fucking me? Not once” you turned your face to look out of the window and he laughed “I fuckin knew it. I bet you'd let me fuck you here in my truck if I asked”

Your head snapped towards him “Halstead, tow the line” he leaned over the console “You're thinking about it huh? My hands on your body, finally feeling my lips on your skin, the way my dick would feel buried in that pretty little pussy..” 

“Jay” you warned low and he called your name to get you to meet his eyes “Tell me you don't want me and I'll drop it. I swear”

When you didn't reply he slipped one hand over to rest on the thigh closest to him “Patrol car will be here any minute to relieve us. I can take you home and we can act like this conversation never happened or..”

“Or?” You asked, your legs unconsciously falling open a little further as if to invite his touch. He smirked when he clocked the movement “Or you come home with me”

 

What were you thinking? What the hell were you thinking? That was the only thing going through your mind as you followed Jay through the hall to his apartment.

You stood back while he unlocked the door then cut his eyes at you “Second thoughts princess?” You shook your head because no matter how bad of an idea this was you wanted it.

He smirked “Give me words baby. Before you ever step foot into my place I wanna hear you say it” you took a step closer to him, hands coming to rest on his belt before raising your eyes to meet his “I want you Jay”

“Fuck” he groaned and the next thing you knew he was crouching to scoop you up with both hands under your thighs. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he stepped into his apartment, kicking the door closed before slamming you back against it.

_______________

The look in his eyes made you roll your bottom lip between your teeth “You're so damn beautiful. Do you know how fucking much you annoy me?” He asked before slipping a knee between your thighs, bringing your body down to roll your hips along his thigh, putting just the right amount of pressure on your throbbing core.

When you moaned lightly he chuckled “Listen at that. You sound so fucking sweet” you glared at him “You're an asshole” he grinned “and yet you're in my arms” before he caught your lips with his. The kiss was hungry, hard and bruising. Everything you knew it would be but damn you needed more.

Your fingers dug into his biceps, trying to find something to ground yourself because it was not fair this insufferable man had you on the verge of an orgasm from kissing and his thigh. He grinned against your lips, dragging your body down his leg again and you moaned “Fuck Jay”

One of his hands slipped between your thighs, pressing hard on your clothed core. One swipe was all it took for your back to arch off the door “Damn darlin” he muttered and kept teasing at you, your breathing quickening with every swipe.

You could feel the orgasm building and when he dropped his head down to bite across your neck that was all it took to push you over that edge,making you shake lightly under him. 

He pulled back and grinned at you “You look so pretty shaking under me. I'm gonna have to see a lot more of that before I'm through with you”

He readjusted to get you back in his arms, you wrapped your legs around him, feeling the tremor in your thighs. He grinned, lips finding yours again as he walked towards his bedroom. He moved from your lips to your neck, kissing and biting the skin. Half of your brain said to tell him not to mark you but the other half knew if you did he would definitely mark you.

He dropped you unceremoniously onto his bed but before you had time to bitch he was back on you. His lips tasted better than any damn liquor and was twice as intoxicating. 

He rocked back on his heels, tugging your shoes off and tossing them behind him before reaching for your jeans. “Take your shirt off” he spoke low, eyes never leaving yours. 

Any other time you would've argued but you found yourself eagerly tugging your shirt over your head. He laughed lightly “Give her one orgasm and she suddenly listens”

The moment you were down to just your bra and panties he licked his lips “Fuck you are gorgeous” he slipped his shirt off along with kicking his shoes off then crawled up your body, kissing and teasing every inch of skin along the way. 

When he got to your lips the kiss he gave you was more tongue than anything and you moaned, nails gracing his shoulders in an effort to pull him closer. You'd seen him shirtless more than once but this time you could touch his skin, taste it.

When you pulled away from the kiss he eyed you for a moment before you tilted his head to let your lips find his neck. You'd always loved Jay's neck. Too many days you'd dreamt about tasting the skin there. You kissed across his pulse point, then bit down lightly and he moaned out your name, clothed hips rutting down into yours.

You kissed across his collarbone, biting and licking along the way. The soft sounds coming from him were heavenly. When you got to the other side of his neck he suddenly grabbed both of your hands and pinned them over your head in one of his. You met his eyes and he grinned before he started to kiss across your neck, his bites light enough to not leave marks but heavy enough to pull gasps from your lips. 

By the time he got down to your chest you were a frustrated mess. You squirmed against his grip on your arms as he used his free hand to reach under you to unsnap your bra, tossing it to the side. “Jay let me go” you demanded and he cut his eyes up at you before rolling one nipple between his teeth. A moan left you and you pulled at your hands again, trying to free them. 

“Jay fucking let go of my damn hands!” you all but yelled and he immediately loosened his grip. You grabbed his shoulders, pulling him back up to your lips. “Do that shit again and I swear I will fucking put my clothes back on and go to Mollys to find someone to finish what you started” 

His eyes darkened at your threat and he nipped at your bottom lip “Why are you always so damn mean?” you smiled up at him as sweetly as you could manage “Your brother thinks I’m a sweetheart” 

His eyes flew up to yours and just the look in them made you clench around nothing “Well by all means sweetheart if you think you’re with the wrong brother feel free to leave” one of his hands came up to wrap loosely around your throat before he leaned down to whisper in your ear “But Will can’t fuck you like I can. I can promise you that”

“Prove it” you whispered and he shook his head “Can’t wait to fuck the bitch right out of you” his hand slipped down under your panties and you moaned loudly when one thick finger slipped into you, followed by a second. “Hmm doesn’t sound like you want someone else” he muttered, curling his fingers so he could brush against that spot deep inside of you.

When he hit it your back arched off the bed and he chuckled “There it is” he continued to pump his fingers into you, adding his thumb down to rub tight circles onto your clit. Your hands gripped his comforter as gasps of his name fell from your lips, your orgasm slamming into you. He worked you through it, coaxing you with praises of “Damn you look pretty like this” “Feel so good squeezing my fingers”

When it became too much you shoved at his wrist and he pulled his hand away, sucking his fingers clean as he held your gaze. “Taste as pretty as you sound” he moved down the bed,laying between your spread legs.

The sight of Jay Halstead between your legs was enough to make you fall apart on its own. He winked at you before gripping your panties to pull them off your legs. He tossed them across the room. One finger teased at your slit “Look at that pretty little pussy” he brushed his finger across your clit and your head fell back against the pillows.

He lowered his mouth to you and the first lick had your eyes rolling back. He worked his tongue across your clit, his fingers pushing into you and finding that spongy spot that had your legs clamping around his head.  You could feel another orgasm building and when he barely grazed his teeth across the sensitive bud the building pressure burst. Your vision went soft around the edges and your legs were quivering around him.

He left a kiss on your inner thigh before pulling back to look up at you with a cocky smirk “How ya feeling partner?” you glared at him weakly “Fuck you Jay” he grinned “Is that an offer?” you shook your head “Take your jeans off and get up here”

He pushed them off his hips “Normally I wouldn’t take orders from you” when he kicked them and his boxers away you felt your mouth go dry. He looked like he was sculpted by the damn greek gods as a personal favor “Like what you see?” he asked and you shook your head “I’m liking it so far”

He pulled you down closer to him, kissing his way up your body until he got back to your lips. When he kissed you, you could taste yourself and that made a moan escape you. You could feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh. “Are you clean?” you asked and he chuckled, kissing along your neck “Just had a physical last month” 

“Then fuck me Halstead, damn” he bit down on the bend of your neck as the head of his cock pushed into you. “Fucking bossy” you couldn’t attempt to say anything back as he slowly pushed into you, the feeling of him stretching you around him was nearly overwhelming.

Once he was fully inside of you,his hips resting against yours he pushed your hair back out of your face and looked into your eyes for a moment “You still with me?” you smiled “I’m good”

He brushed his lips against yours and gave a tentative thrust of his hips. When you hooked your legs up around his waist he chuckled against your mouth “Impatient” he gripped one of your hips tightly and gave a sharp thrust of his hips, snapping them into yours. 

“Like that Jay, please” you gasped and he grinned “Dammit sweetheart” and buried his face in your neck as he found a hard pace, hips slamming into yours hard enough you could vaguely hear the headboard slamming against the wall with every thrust.

Your nails dug into his back, his hips burying into you hitting that spot with every thrust. You could feel another orgasm building already. One of his hands slipped between your bodies to play with your clit, rubbing heavy circles. You screamed his name as you came, nails digging into his flesh. He gave a few more hard thrusts then buried himself inside of you, you could feel him coating your walls, pumping some back out with his thrusts. 

He slowed once he finished and all but collapsed on top of you,both of your chests heaving. “Fuck”you gasped and he laughed “Yeah, that was a lot more fun than arguing”

You were fairly certain Jay was asleep. After the two of you had cleaned up, he’d wrapped himself around you which you hadn’t expected. You’d expected to get tossed your clothes and get told to go home.

You started to shift to get out of the bed and felt his hand shoot out to wrap around your wrist “Where are you going?” you looked back at him, a smile slipping onto your face “I know this isn’t a stay the night thing Jay. I’m gonna get dressed and summon an uber”

He shook his head “Stay, please” you stared at him for a moment “You’ve always acted like you can’t stand being around me” he raised an eyebrow and motioned around the bed “That was determined to be a lie” you laughed “What just happened Jay?” he shrugged “The start of something if that's what you want because I can’t go to work tomorrow and act like everythings how it was”

“Say the words baby. I need to hear you say them” you teased and he rolled his eyes “I want you. I want you to be mine, just mine” you raised an eyebrow “Will you be just mine?” he nodded “Yeah” you took a breath and saw the hesitation start to worry him before you turned to curl up to his chest “Ok” “Ok” he agreed, leaving a kiss on the side of your head.

You were almost asleep before he said “You were fucking with me about Will though, weren’t you?” you shook your head “Go to sleep Jay”

[malk1ns]

january 7 vs blue jackets, 4-3 S/O loss

geno misses his first game in over two seasons. cue a five-alarm meltdown on tumblr and twitter lmao.

this fic contains mpreg. i wouldn't call it a dystopia exactly, but it's also not not a dystopia. it's not a breeding program, but it's not not a breeding program. you get it.

When Jarry lets in the second goal on the shootout and the Blue Jackets pour off the bench to celebrate, Zhenya slams his hand on the arm of the couch he and Tommer are watching from in the lounge and curses.

Tommer frowns at him. “Take it easy,” he says, glancing at the door. “We just barely got them to leave. If they hear you freaking out, they’ll make you go back to the exam room.”

Zhenya grumbles, but subsides. Tommer’s right. The medical staff had been loath to let Zhenya leave their sight, even though all he wanted to do was sit on a couch and watch the Penguins play. It had taken Tommer popping up from his meeting with the trainers and promising to stay with him before they left him alone.

Zhenya’s been taking pregnancy tests on a daily basis for the last two weeks, Sid hovering over his shoulder as they waited out the 15-minute timer. And every day, they’d both let out a breath when no second line showed up—Sid in disappointment, and Zhenya in…also disappointment, but not entirely.

Until this afternoon. Zhenya went to morning skate like normal, then came home and let Sid fuss at him before their nap. His alarm went off, he groaned and stumbled into the bathroom, he peed on a stick.

This time, though, as the countdown on his phone ticked over to five minutes left, a second faint line appeared.

“Holy shit,” Sid had said, hand sneaking around Zhenya’s torso to rest low on his belly. “Baby, look.”

They were later than normal to the arena for the game. Zhenya insisted on taking three more tests, watching each one pop positive as he swallowed back nausea.

He’s pregnant. The doctors confirmed it when they got to the rink; Sid must have called ahead, because they were waiting for them just inside the doors, whisking Zhenya away and shooing Sid off when he tried to follow. The blood test was conclusive, and Zhenya stared down at the printout in stunned silence.

He managed to avoid that particular clause in his contract for almost twenty years. He’d played his hardest, given this team and this city everything he had, and when his agent broached the topic in the off-season he put it off, changing the subject and dedicating himself to training so the team wouldn’t push the issue. If he’s playing well, after all, they’d rather keep him on the ice.

That changed with his last extension. Expectations were made clear, and even a regime change hadn’t altered them.

Zhenya hasn’t exactly made his case for anything different this year, he knows that. He’s been distracted, worn down by the extra media and public scrutiny once it leaked that he and Sid were trying. Everywhere he goes, he gets stopped by people asking how it’s going, if he has good news to share.

And there’s Sid.

In years past, Sid helped Zhenya track his cycle so they could avoid his most fertile days and extend Zhenya’s playing time. This year, though, he’d come back from the offseason, taken Zhenya to bed, and essentially not let him leave.

The attention is nice. What started back in 2006 as an arranged thing for the future of the organization turned quickly into something real, something permanent, and Zhenya will never be upset about being on the receiving end of Sidney Crosby’s considerable focus. It’s the why that’s making him uneasy.

Sid had always been different. Circumstances outside their control brought them together, but he made an effort to get to know Zhenya as a person, and the feelings that developed grew naturally, like a regular relationship. This season, though, he’s been different, fixated on the idea of getting Zhenya pregnant with an alarming level of enthusiasm. It’s infiltrated his dirty talk even, and while Zhenya won’t pretend it’s not hot in the moment, it’s been making him feel a little off, a little claustrophobic.

Technically, Zhenya can still play, for a few more weeks at least. He could probably force the issue, kick up a fuss and threaten to tell the union that the Penguins are violating his right to play while he’s still eligible. He thinks about Sid, though, the way Sid handed him into the car this afternoon like he was made of glass, and his stomach twists.

He’s a hockey player. His whole life has been structured around playing games, and getting ready to play games, and rehabbing from injuries so he can get ready to play games again. He doesn’t know how to take an extended break with no defined date of return.

But Sid’s been on overdrive all season, protective and overbearing. He’s only going to get worse now that it’s caught and Zhenya’s finally carrying his child. 

It’s probably easier if Zhenya just goes along with it, lets himself get put on IR and focuses on growing this baby.

After all, if he does a good job with this one, if it’s strong and healthy, they might not push him into trying for a second one right away. He and Sid can focus on being parents and Zhenya can get back into game shape, maybe even get one more crack at the postseason before he retires.

Sid fell in love with Zhenya’s hockey first, after all. He’ll want Zhenya to be able to play again.

Zhenya catches himself rubbing fretfully at his lower stomach, and his mouth twists.

[inawickedlittletown]

Meet Cute - Bucktommy one-shot

Summary: Buck and Tommy get asked to explain how they met when they run into the person behind the instagram, meet cutes LA. (Inspired by meetcutesnyc) Words: 1.3k Read on Ao3

-

They were just walking down the street, Buck a little more preoccupied with figuring out if they were headed in the right direction to where they were supposed to be meeting up with Maddie and Chim. He should have listened to Tommy and agreed on taking an Uber. Parking had been a bit of a nightmare, but it was nice enough out that he didn’t mind the walk, assuming they found the restaurant soon. 

So, he didn’t even notice the guy with the camera. Then again, in LA there were always guys — and girls — with cameras. He’d responded to enough calls to do with influencers doing something stupid for clout. 

It was Tommy that stopped first when the guy with the camera called out to them. “Hey, excuse me.” 

“Yeah?” Tommy asked. “Can we help you?” 

Buck had to backtrack a couple of paces, but he fitted his shoulder against Tommy’s and looked at the guy curiously. 

“You guys are a couple right?” 

Buck felt Tommy stiffen a little. He reached and grabbed for his hand, gave it a squeeze. 

“Yeah,” he said. 

The guy was young, probably early twenties. His hair was a little floppy on his forehead and his glasses hid brown eyes. Despite having approached them of his own volition, he looked a little nervous. It made Buck relax a little. 

“I’m Max. I uh, there’s this thing I do. Meet Cutes LA. You probably haven’t seen it but I post primarily on insta, but I’m on TikTok as well. I film real couples out in the wild and ask them to tell me how they met and got together. Would you guys be willing to tell me your story?” 

Buck shared a glance with Tommy and shrugged.

“I guess that’s alright,” Tommy said. 

Max brightened. “Cool. Alright. I like to get permission first, but I want it to look like I just approached you randomly, it’s my whole aesthetic. So if you could go back a few feet and start walking past me and then stop when I call you over?” 

“Is this going to take long?” Buck asked. “We have somewhere to be—”

“It won’t. Ten minutes tops. I promise.” 

Tommy nudged him. “Come on, Evan, don’t you like being the center of attention.” 

“Shut up,” Buck said. “You realize that no one’s going to believe how we met.” 

So they walked a bit back and then when Max had his camera up and had given them a thumbs up, they started walking forward again just like they had before.  

“Excuse me! I have a question for you.” 

“Alright,” Tommy said. 

“How did you two meet?” Max asked. 

Buck shared a look with Tommy. 

“We could have met a good six or seven times before we actually met. Actually, we share an ex. He took my spot at the firestation he still works at. We have so many mutual friends. But we still met in an unbelievable way. You tell it, Evan,” Tommy said. 

“He’s a firefighter pilot,” Buck offered. “Best pilot in the LAFD.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. 

“I’m also a firefighter,” Buck continued, “My Captain and his wife went on a cruise and there was a hurricane and pirates. Anyway, to keep things uncomplicated, we had to go rescue them and one of my coworkers who used to work with Tommy, called Tommy to fly us out into the hurricane.”

“Just like that,” Max said. “You just answered that call and said sure.” 

Tommy rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I owed Howie, but it was also the right thing to do. I mean, that’s kind of the job. Helping people.”

“Anyway, we flew out and he landed the helicopter on a capsized cruise ship. I thought he was so cool.” 

Tommy smiled at him. “I thought he was really cute…I also thought he was straight.” 

“I thought I was straight too,” Buck admitted. “Didn’t understand why I wanted to see him again after that night.” 

From behind the camera, Max’s eyebrows had shot up, it was clear that he hadn’t expected the story they were telling. No one ever really did. 

“So how did you get together?”

“He kissed me,” Buck said and he would never forget that kiss, surprising as it had been. 

That kiss had opened his eyes, it had changed everything for him. Looking at Tommy, he could tell that Tommy was remembering too. Tommy had taken a huge risk. 

“After the rescue?” Max asked. 

“A few weeks later. Evan has a bit of a possessive edge to him.” 

Buck glared at him. “I do not. I was misguided and upset because you were giving Eddie all of your attention.” 

“Who’s Eddie?” 

“My best friend who was monopolizing all of his time.” 

“So you maimed him,” Tommy said. 

Max’s eyes widened and he mouthed, ‘maimed’. 

“His ankle was fine two days later,” Buck countered. “I, uh, went to play basketball with them and—”

“And he hates basketball,” Tommy said. “Anyway, I went over to clear the air and I just took a chance. I thought he was mad I was taking up Eddie’s time. I didn’t realize it was my attention that he wanted all along.” 

“And I discovered that I’ve been a chaotic bisexual this whole time,” Buck said. “I had no idea why I was acting so insane and then he kissed me and it all made sense.” 

They shared another smile and Buck was tempted to lean over and kiss him, didn’t know if Tommy would appreciate that especially since they were being filmed and it would be posted somewhere for people to see it. 

“Wow. So, how long ago was that?” Max asked. 

“A little over two years,” Buck said. 

“So, you’ve been together ever since?” 

Buck shook his head. He didn’t like thinking about that period of time. The months of heartbreak and longing. The amount of baking he’d accomplished and how even that had stopped working after a while. 

 “There was a small blip of time, but we worked it out. Stronger than ever,” Tommy said and then he pulled away from Buck a little. “So strong that, there’s actually a question I’ve been wanting to ask. Now seems as good as any time.”

Buck froze. Tommy pulled his hand away and Buck watched Tommy kneel. Max let out an excited squeal and he was still filming as Tommy took a little box out of his pocket. Buck only had eyes for him, for his big hands that fumbled the box nervously.  

“Evan Buckley, I love you more than I could ever hope to express. I never once thought that I could find the person I’d want forever with, but I met you probably at the exact time that it was meant to happen, at a time when we were both ready for each other. And now, I think we’re ready for a different step. Do you want to take that step with me? Would you marry me?” 

Buck nodded eagerly. “Yes. Yes. Yes, of course.” 

A ring was slipped onto his finger and then Tommy’s lips were on his and several people were cheering, Max perhaps louder than anyone else. 

-

A few days later, Buck got a DM from @meetcutesla 

Meetcutesla: Hey. It’s Max. I’m going to be posting your meet cute story tomorrow. I just wanted to double check that you’re okay with me including the proposal. 

Buck touched the ring on his finger. It still felt, if he was being honest, foreign on his finger. But he loved it. 

Buckley118: Still good with that. Takes some of the pressure off of telling everyone ourselves. 

Meetcutesla: lmao. You guys are the best, I better get an invite to that wedding. 

What Buck was not expecting was for the video to blow up, not that he or Tommy really cared or minded. Buck for his part liked watching it, seeing their love displayed for the world.

[klunkcat]

50 VAGUE ANGSTY + HURT/COMFORT DIALOGUE PROMPTS

7. "Did they hurt you?" gio + author's choice :3c

This is foul, just want to say! Not my fault!!!

Gioverse can be found here - this is n!mikey centered because its me <3

His first mistake, in a long line of many, was assuming he could leave for a few hours.

Gio had mentioned in the start-stop way of his that meant more half hedging implications of noticing something than ever an outright statement, that he’d never had broccoli and cheddar cheese soup before. This was, of course, a sin that Mikey had no choice but to right as soon as possible. He’d thought he could be in an out in thirty minutes, maybe an hour tops. Swing by April’s place after giving her a call, pick up the ingredients and head back. Easy peasy. 

He and Gio had really started to crack into his recipe book lately, and the thought was a syrupy sweet palpitation in his chest. Adding one more warm thing to the repertoire of lessons he was bundling the kid in seemed like a wonderful opportunity. 

Except, of course, he’d left Gio alone with them. 

It had been a long minute since Donnie had willingly left his lab, in his defense. More often than not Mikey had to brave the mess of cold wires and empty metal to try and bring dinner to his brother that he knew in his heart of hearts would be forgotten. And Raph rarely stayed in the Lair long enough to do anything other than sleep. He hadn’t thought— well, there was the crux of it. He hadn’t thought at all. 

Returning through the front door with bags of broccoli and the fancy kind of cheddar, he’d been thinking of warmth. Of getting that rare shy smile of Gio’s to shine through once again, just for the two of them. He’d been thinking of kitchen lights and music bouncing off walls, and not at all of the echoes or the empty rooms around them. 

“ – if you think, for one second that he’d– “

“That’s the problem!” Raph’s voice thunders. Mikey’s heart takes a sharp twist and tumbles straight down to the stone floor. “I don’t know anymore. You don’t either! Just— can we stop pretending?” 

A sharp, icy scoff. “Isn’t that what you’re best at, brother of mine? Or is that just Mikey. Should we ask him?”

“Don’t,” Raph growls back. 

“Or what! You’re not even here. Am I the only one who can’t do this? This thing where we act like we can make anything better just because he’s here—” Donnie’s voice pitches up, practically a roar by the end splintering off into a thousand barbs Mikey knew he’d wrap himself in the second that he could. But where is Gio? 

There’s a crash.

The bags fall from his hands to the floor. He takes in the fact Gio’s bedroom door is open, that the lights in the living room are on and— 

It’s all noise and color. Mikey barrelling through, skidding to a stop and registering just enough to note Raph’s balled fists, Donnie’s sharp glare, and Gio, standing just behind the couch, surrounded by shards of glass. Gio’s wide eyes, looking between his brother’s and over at Mikey like he isn’t sure there was anywhere left in the world for him to go. 

No one moves except for him.

He falls to his knees instantly, scooping Gio’s face in his shaking hands. “Are you— did they hurt you? Show me your hands, buddy, okay? I’ll check, I’ll make it better, you’re safe I promise, I—” 

Gio blinks, lets Mikey fuss and turn his hands all over, placating and malleable. There’s a tiny scrape on his knee that looks old, no cuts or nicks on his hands. No red or purple rising on his dark skin. Mikey closes his eyes, leaning his forehead against Gio’s for a shaky breath. 

He feels Gio’s hands reach up and press against his palms. “I’m okay,” he whispers after a moment, voice small and trying not to shake in the way that made his voice flatter. Younger. 

It doesn’t stop him from being terrified, because Gio had grown up somewhere Mikey didn’t know, where pinches and slaps had been handed out as easily as words. And it had taken Mikey all these hard months just to get the kid to stop scanning for exits in every room they stood in, and his brother’s had been yelling.

The thought slows, grinds to a halt. His brother’s had been yelling. About him. 

He makes himself lean back. Glances over at the rest of the room. 

Raph’s face is hollowed out. A complete study in guilt, one hand reaching forward almost unthinkingly. Like the smallest shard of an old Raphie had flickered through for a microsecond before vanishing on both of them. And Donnie– 

“We didn’t know he was here.” Don says, flat as ever. 

Mikey frowns, pulling Gio more firmly into his side. “That doesn’t make it okay.” 

There’s something strange to Donnie’s expression. Guilt? It can’t be. The loss of his twin had warped him so thoroughly that Mikey could never manage to fully understand, and he knows that this Donnie is a facsimile more often than his own person, but he’d thought… It isn’t a kind thought. It isn’t a thought he’s allowed to have anymore. 

“Mikey—” Raph tries, and some of the simmering anger Mikey makes sure he doesn’t have rises up between his breaths. 

“Don’t Mikey me. You were yelling about—” his voice catches, he makes it hold. “About me, right? You think I’m playing pretend. That I don’t know how bad we are.” He remembers that Gio’s here and holds onto the reminder like a buoy in the midst of all this disappointment and hurt, and the things they never say out loud anymore trying valiantly to fight their way through. “I’m not a stupid kid anymore, of course I know!” I know more than you, I know a thousand other worlds more than you, how badly we’re broken, I’ve seen them. 

His hurt crashes against him. “Of course I’m angry! I’m tired, and it’s so hard to try but I can do it  even if you can’t, and I am trying, so just. Stay the hell away and leave Gio out of this!” 

Raph’s face twists, his good eye dropping to the floor. “We thought. I thought he was with you. We wouldn’t hurt him.”

Gio’s warm and still bendable with his need to appease at Mikey’s side. It grounds him in all the same ways it makes all of this so much worse. Wouldn’t hurt him, except they’d yell and glare and avoid, right? Wouldn’t hurt him except that they didn’t know Gio thought he didn’t belong in the one place he should always feel safe. That he thought they hated him.

He opens his mouth, some boiling betrayal burning on his lips— 

“It’s my fault.” Donnie cuts in, still blank and stiff and sharp the way he always is, now. The admission is a tiny miracle nonetheless, and Mikey’s anger dies a quiet heat death in the center of himself. He doesn’t miss the tiny lurch in Gio’s breathing at his side, though. 

No one says anything for a long, horrid moment. Donnie looking straight through Mikey like he’s alone on a dying star; and it aches– it aches all the way through to know it’s an untouchable chill Mikey can’t ever break through even when he tries, and it’s worse to think that he’s used to it, but it’s familiar all the same. Don turns his head, hands flat at his side. 

“I’m the one who can’t do this.” Love right, he means. He doesn’t mean he can’t at all. 

Mikey pulls Gio closer, like he can shield him from the misunderstanding he knows will reach the kid anyways. He feels the words hit Gio, wash over him as Donnie leaves with a hiss of his lab door clicking firmly into place. 

He doesn’t mean it, Mikey thinks of saying helplessly. Except Donnie does mean everything he says, it just exists in stone blocks and hard data now and none of the softness has anywhere to stay. 

Raph watches Donnie leave, and lets out a long sigh. He rubs a hand over his face, and ages rapidly in a thousand eye bag lines all at once. “I’m sorry, kid,” Raph mumbles. Mikey’s not sure if he means Gio. He hasn’t been Raph’s kid in a long time. 

“It’s okay,” Gio says, stiff and quiet. Raph nods to himself, eye gazing emptily at anything but them, and shuffles himself off to his room. 

It’s them, again, like always. Mikey hates the fact he’s relieved enough to let himself untense— that his brother’s could ever exist in the same sentence as danger. It hurts to realize that his instincts have been wired backwards and inverted like this, in this reality Mikey couldn’t save anything from. 

He lets Gio go with a puff of breath and forces himself to stand, tries to find the strength in himself not to cry. There’s a light in him somewhere, still, but it’s different, too. 

Maybe he has been playing pretend in a type of way. Acting like he hadn’t changed as much as everyone else, too. 

Gio’s hand touches his, briefly. “Your knees.” 

He blinks. Oh. There’s blood, patches of it on the floor in between the glittering bits of glass. For a moment he worries that he had missed something after all, that Gio had been hurt— Gio stares nervously at Mikey’s legs where he’d crashed to his knees. 

There’s bloody tears in his pant legs. He doesn’t even feel it.

“Oops,” Mikey tries to laugh. It comes out wavering and pathetic. Gio bites his lip–  isn’t that a thought. All the yelling and the anger and the sheer brokenness of their family, and Gio looks like he might actually cry just over some scrapes from Mikey being stupid. He loves this kid so much it balloons right through him constantly in endlessly shocking ways. 

I’m sorry, Mikey thinks. He’s always sorry these days. “Let me get cleaned up, okay? Then, um. How about a new recipe? Think you’ll love it.” 

Gio looks like he wants to say something, closes his mouth instead. Smiles that tiny way Mikey would burn the world down for, instead. 

Maybe they’re both pretending, really. Maybe that’s all they can do. 

___

Gio grew up cold, it’s an inescapable reality he’s forged his understanding of the world around. There’s a bone deep chill that resides within most places, rooms for things that aren’t to be kept, and stern words meant to correct in straight neat lines. There’s no space for anything else. That’s the reality, kid. 

He’d spent most his life adapting, quick as he could to make the next deadline or the next drop. Make sure he was useful but not too important to be seen, to keep the jobs coming and food for the next day available. 

There was a point A to a point B, a quickest route forward. That’s all he needed. 

When Mikey found him a lot of that had been subsequently shaken apart. A lot of things suddenly meant staying, and promises, and bright room lights that held. Suddenly, food was fun and a given, and could be asked for, and there were laughs bubbling up and bouncing back to him, and warm hands against his cheeks asking ‘are you okay’ just to know. To check. 

He knew what being warm was because he knew the cold. He considered this a gift. 

There isn’t a single atom of himself that doesn’t ache with a deep homesickness he’s not sure he’s allowed to have every second that his Mikey is lost somewhere unreachable, but he is grateful. As much as he loves his family now, and their bright silly constant thrum of life everywhere he goes, he wouldn’t ever have chosen differently. 

If he was cold for nineteen years, it was so his big brother could burn bigger in comparison. 

His family now has plenty of warmth all on their own, but he tries to burn the same way for them all the same.

It’s funny, sometimes; his stomach twists with a fond ache that’s equal parts grief and absolute relief all in one that ties his words up somewhere else he can’t touch, but he misses his Mikey in the same way he loves this one. He wonders if Mikey knows how bright he is, that it’s the bravest thing he’s ever known. He’s also so small, here. Breakable in all the ways he bounces. It’s absolutely terrifying. 

Gio had been fighting in back alley scrapes and life or death battles since he was ten, but that doesn’t mean his little brother should. 

“Did they hurt you?” He asks, scanning absolutely every inch of Mikey’s arms and face he can see. He presses carefully at his sides, where the hard shell and plastron give way to more tender spaces. Mikey giggles instead of flinching, thank god. 

“Gogo~” Mikey complains, laughter bright on his cheeks. “I’ve been in bigger fights last week.” 

“You got thrown through a wall.” 

Mikey waves a hand. “Like, a little.” 

“No, he’s right,” Leo leans over Gio’s shoulder. “That sounded pretty rough. Anything dislocated?”

Gio hates the idea abruptly that any of them know what dislocation feels like, or that it’s regular enough it wouldn’t be obvious. 

“I’m fine, really! I pinky promise double swear.” 

Leo purses his lips. “With sprinkles on top?”  

Raph’s worry sensors must ping at the commotion, because Gio can hear him abruptly switching to Mikey fussing mode from the other room. Mikey’s expression darkens, Gio switches tactics. 

“You’re okay,” he decrees, with a tiny nod. “Soup will fix it.” 

Leo’s muffled snort is worth it for the way Mikey’s eyes light up. 

“Oh! I have broccoli I’ve been meaning to use.” He immediately jumps up, luckily confirming he is in fact just fine in the same motion, and instinctively puts both hands on Gio’s cheeks with excitement. “Oh mama, you have no idea what can of worms you’ve just unleashed. I’m going to make so much soup. How about a new recipe? I think you’ll love it.” 

Gio’s heart does something funny. 

“I’m sure I will,” he smiles back. Warm enough for all of them.

[flo-zoinks]

Headcanons for if you followed them around camp but you were crawling and trying to bite their ankles :)

Chlo you are the weirdest omg 😭 suree

WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF YOU FOLLOWED EACH RDR2 GANG MEMBER AROUND CAMP CRAWLING TRYNNA BITE THEIR ANKLES💀 (MY OPINION)

(Again here assuming you're like John in terms of likability and age/gender because will responses differ greatly)

Arthur - give you evils and say "what the hell is wrong you? Get away from me" tells whoever you're closest to, eg hosea or Grimshaw to get you back in line before leaving camp because his mood is now ruined

Hosea - stop and just tell you to get up because you you look like a prize idiot, "more then already atleast"

Dutch - grab your shoulder and bring you to your feet then shove you outta camp, then rant for 5 minutes to whoever listens that society is destroying sane minds

Charles - "stop it. That's weird" looks at you weirdly and probably kick you if he had to just so you stop

Sadie - grab her shotgun and hit you HARD with the back end of it, then kick your ur ass shouting curses

Molly - runs to Dutch. Dutch probably would just tell you to get up cuz you look stupid but then scold her after for bothering him with such "trivial matters" because "obviously it was just in good fun"

Pearson - shout out like a child, try and use his cooking tools as weapons and back away from you aiming them. After it's over says he was holding himself out from unleashing his anger in camp

Trelawny - ridicule your weird behaviour very sarcastically but walk quite a lot faster trynna play it cool like he's not a bit frightened by your activity

Javier - "HIJO DE PUTA QUE ESTÁS HACIENDO 😨". Starts kicking you until your down then just continues until you promise you won't do it again. Probably helps you back up again just to threaten you with a knife

John - look at you disgusted and immediately pulls out his shotgun aiming at you until you stop

Karen - throws whatever shes holding at you (probably a beer bottle) and curse you for being a freak

Tilly - runs towards Arthur or Javier whilst hurling insults at you calling you a sick freak

Abigail - assume it's a weird perv thing then run away to suddenly stop and kick you when you don't expect it. Then tell John to make sure Jack doesn't go near you

Micah - "are you down there to practice begging me for kindness...heh..." (heavy breathing). If it wasnt Micah it would be assumed they are trying to creep you until you just stand up and be normal. If you're a minority he says "didn't know (slur) did that too what did I expect huh"

Jack - run away screaming into Abigail's, Hosea's, Dutch's, Arthur's or John's arms. Probably starts crying then later when you're sleeping throws rocks at you for revenge

Bill - "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING I'M NOT INTO THAT STUFF" backs away almost running backwards with his gun pointed at you

Uncle - forgets he has lumbago and runs across camp trying to get you to attack someone else. Probably hides behind John and says to you something like "surely you'd prefer this one, sure he needs a bit more meat on him, but take him take him!!"

Mary-Beth - throws her book at you and runs to Arthur for help, or Karen. Thinks you're possessed.

Sean - thinks it's a game so joins you to chase after Kieran, then blames you when he gets told off for starting it

Lenny - "what the hell.." kicks you once then pulls you up. Gives you a lecture after on respectable behaviour

Grimshaw - just stops and grabs you by the ear up on your feet, then smacks you. Tells you off and then drags you out of camp, especially if you did it near the girls she doesnt take bs

Kieran - backs away, runs away, shouting he's not an O'Driscoll. Probably hides further from the edge of camp for the next day but on the bright side everyone thinks your funny, if not a little weird, except Mary-Beth ofc

Reverend - thinks you're possessed, tells you bible verses, throws water on you, then runs away and drinks away whatever tf he just saw

Strauss - he is NOT surviving that again.. he has no chance in these headcanons ever

Alr yall tell me who I forgot!! Thanks for the heacanon you sucha weirdo😭. ALSO CHLO BOO U STARTED SOMETHING BC NOW MY INBOX IS JUST CRAZY FUNNY HEADCANONS OMG

[possibilistfanfiction]

Prompt: Vi and gentleness, healing from prison trauma

[give vi seven million hugs!!!!!!!]

//

vi jolts awake next to you; it wakes you up, her panicked breathing coming way too fast.

'hey,' you say, trying your best to be comforting. she's told you some of what her life in prison was like, but she was seventeen — a child — when she went in, and you know that, whatever she's told you, the reality was so, so much worse. 'vi, it's okay.'

she's still panicked, though, pulling at her hair and curled in on herself, her muscles straining hard, sweat soaking down her bare back, shiny against tattoos and scars spread all over her skin. this is the first of her nightmares you'd woken up to; you know she's had them before, because you've woken in the middle of the night to a cold bed and found her on the couch, dark circles under her eyes with some animal documentary playing on mute, scared to fall back asleep.

vi, in the light, is so strong, with her broad shoulders and the serious set of her brow, the way she cares and cares and cares. vi, in the moonlight silvering through the window, in the dark, is small, and terrified.

she flinches away from your touch, still stuck in a different world. you turn on your bedside lamp and try one of the grounding exercises that you use for yourself when you start to spiral. she's reluctant but it's always easier to come back to reality when all you have to do is name four things you can see, or two things you can smell, rather than make sense of the whole present world at once, and so she tries.

her breathing slows and eventually, she deflates enough that she stops looking like she's going to punch through a wall at any given moment. 'sorry,' she croaks as you hand her a glass of water.

you roll your eyes: of course her first impulse would be to apologize after a real honest-to-god panic attack.

'violet,' you say, just that, and she softens even more. 'can i touch you?'

she nods, and your light touch on her shoulder turns into an engulfing hug, her arms wrapping around you tight while she rests her head in the crook of your neck, just trying to steady her breath further. you figured out early on that vi loved physical touch, from everyone she cared about, and it wasn't a mystery as to why. still, to hear her mumble, 'no one touched me gently for five years,' makes you want to cry.

you can cry later, though, because she needs you right now to be strong. 'do you want to talk more about it?'

she sighs. 'can we just... stay like this? just for now?'

you run your hand through her hair, gently brush it back from her face, and kiss the scar through her brow: from a guard's baton, her third night there, you'll learn one day. 'we can stay like this all night, vi,' you promise.

//

vi flops down onto the mat when you get to the climbing gym, closing her eyes and taking a big breath, then letting it out slowly. she had been quiet in the car, but she'd smiled when you put on an old album she loved. you have a standing climbing date every other thursday afternoon, after she has therapy, and usually it only takes her a few minutes to fully come back to you: eventually, she's laughing and smiling like normal, leading the hardest overhangs in the gym with a powerful ease, joking that your knot is dressed to the eights while you do a safety check, kissing your cheek delightedly while you groan.

today, though, she stays quiet and serious. she's still encouraging and respectful, as she always, without fail, is, but she favors her left shoulder — her bad one, which you continue to gently pester her to get looked at — and still climbs the most intense dihedral chimney, holding her arm to her chest when you lower her.

'at least ice that, please,' you ask — a little desperate, a little out of your depth with this heavy and stubborn a mood — when you finish up and head back to your apartment to shower and order food. you debate texting jinx, but you had promised her that vi would be at your place tonight; apparently she and ekko had planned to have a small party and you didn't want to interrupt. vi is your girlfriend, and you can handle it. you want her in your life as long as she'll have you, and so you need to be able to handle it.

vi just grunts and leans her head against the window, flexing her left wrist a few times. you tell her to shower first, and she just nods, doesn't even try to give you any lines to convince you to shower with her. she comes out of the bathroom in boxers and wool hiking socks and one of your soft fleece quarter zips, her favorite on days where the past lingers a little too much. she pulls you in for a gentle kiss — an apology, a thank you — before you head to the bathroom, and when you finish and sit next to where she's curled up on the couch, your hair wrapped in a towel and dressed in your favorite knit palazzo pants and a bra, your glasses on, she sighs.

'hard day in therapy?'

'i — this is the anniversary of the day i went to prison,' she says, quiet, staring off into the corner at nothing. she won't meet your eyes, but of course you don't make her. 'i should've told you.'

'violet.' she accepts your upturned, outstretched palm. 'the only thing i need from you tonight is to stop apologizing. you, today, in this moment, have done absolutely nothing wrong.'

'huh. i'm sor—'

your glare stops her, and you exchange small, amused smiles.

'i'm still getting used to... this, i guess.'

it's been nearly a year, but you don't take offense.

'i talked about you in therapy today,' she continues. 'like, not bad, obviously, just that it's so hard to tell you about, like, the way my—' her voice breaks and she swallows once — 'my parents died, or, how hard it was to try to take care of powd—jinx, or... you know, i was just a kid.'

she's desperately fighting back tears; you scoot closer to her and lift her chin with your finger, gently, to meet your eyes. 'you were a child. none of that should have happened to you.'

she frowns, but a few tears fall freely, and she, thankfully, doesn't try to stop them. 'a lot of it was my fault.'

you shrug. 'maybe you did some stupid things. but so did i, and certainly so did jayce, and all that happened to us was a scolding. i know you know this, but it wasn't fair, or just, or right, what you had to live through because you were a dumb kid, or because you had only impossible choices to make.'

'i swear, you and my therapist are in cahoots.' her voice wobbles but she relaxes, just slightly.

'i have an idea,' you say. you know she doesn't have work tomorrow, and jinx is with ekko all night, and you can take the day off if you need. 'put some pants on.'

//

you lay out the warm blanket you'd brought on the sand; it's freezing, but the spiked hot chocolate you'd put in your to-go mugs is still hot, and vi is like a furnace when you lean into her side. you'd bought this small house on the lake a few months ago, had been waiting until it was finished to surprise vi on vacation. but this was more important: her eyes had gotten big when you'd driven up the long, winding driveway, and she'd reverently said, 'no fucking way, cupcake,' when you'd explained that, really, you hoped it could belong, in all the important ways, to the both of you. an hour and a half drive from the city; the wildflowers and one of her favorite climbing spots only twenty minutes away: a respite, from it all.

'i've never seen this many stars,' she says, awe and grief in the frost of her breath.

you don't say that you've been in more remote places than this together; you just look out over the lake where they reflect back, blinking and shimmering. 'i know your brain and body don't always believe you, and that's okay,' you tell her, 'but you're free, vi.'

she sniffles, and then she nods, and then she laughs. 'my therapist isn't going to believe this.'

you end up laughing too, and you lie back with her on the blanket in the cold, and you teach her constellations. when you look out over the water, the horizon line lost between cosmos and earth, you realize it's the same as your love for her too: endless.

//

'i'm not hungry.'

you roll your eyes. 'you didn't eat lunch.'

'well, i haven't done anything today.' she fusses with the sling her left arm is snugly nestled in; she hurt her shoulder again on a call last night, and it was so bad this time she couldn't hide it from her captain. she's finally agreed to see a specialist next week, if only to stop you from nagging, or so she insisted.

'vi.'

'cait, just, stop.' it's harsh, harsher than she ever really is, and she sighs. 'please.'

you offer your hand quietly and she takes it with her good one. you fight every impulse you have to nag at her, or to offer a million different things for dinner. 'okay.'

she deflates in obvious relief, and you quietly make your way through a few episodes of a show that night until you both wearily head up to your bed. your house is beautiful, and you love sharing a home with her; you turn down the comforter and she tries to get comfortable with her sling, dutifully, still on. her stomach grumbles, and you know she must be starving, but you don't say anything. sometimes she still needs to process in her own time; sometimes her body is still convinced it's just on this edge of surviving.

you let her pretend to be asleep.

in the morning she picks at her breakfast, an egg and cheese with bacon on a roll from the bodgea down the street, her regular favorite. vi is still sweet — she always is, affectionate and bright and devoted and funny — but her smile is only half-hearted and she neatly wraps her sandwich up after she's only finished with half and then places it in the fridge.

you bite your tongue again, because she takes ibuprofen without any reminder and gets her computer set up at the kitchen island; she's doing some work from home, records and order forms, so that she can still help but doesn't actually need to go in today if she was just going to be stuck at a desk anyway.

eventually, you're getting ready to go meet jinx and ekko to have dinner and watch a wnba game at your favorite sports bar; you had spent the day working from home too in your office, occasionally checking on vi but mostly leaving her to her own devices. it's hard, sometimes, not to smother her, but she's her own grown up person, and you know from loving her that whatever's bothering her will, eventually, work its way out.

it does, when you walk into her closet after a light knock on the door and see her in her boxers, sling off, frowning at a pair of jeans with tears in her eyes. they're old, ones she's had the entire time you've known her, a light wash that sits loose and low on her hips, one of the knees tearing over the years. she tries to wipe her cheeks immediately when you walk in, but only ends up wincing and grabbing at her left arm in inescapable pain she can't hide quick enough. instead of asking what's wrong, though, you stay quiet and sit neatly on the little leather bench, pick up the discarded jeans from the floor and fold them neatly.

'they don't — they don't fit anymore,' she says. 'at least, not like they used to.'

it's not hard for you to understand, and it's another layer of grief for her: when you first met vi, she was all muscle, as lean and cut as anyone you'd ever seen. you'd gathered that she grew up with a combination of not having enough food, especially while she was incarcerated, and then being much more worried about jinx eating than herself. you think she enjoys food, and she'll happily cook with you, but left to her own devices, still lives off of protein shakes.

it's hard, to know how to navigate ghosts nestled in her ribs, in her hips, in the tender, torn and frayed ligaments of her shoulder. she sits down next to you. 'well, these were on their way out anyway,' you decide on, hoping a little levity will help her sort through her feelings.

'i — am i still hot?'

it's a question that surprises you, and it surprises her too, based on the look of horror that crosses her face and the way she brings her good hand up to cover her mouth immediately. you try so hard, but you can't fully fight the laugh that bubbles out of you, and vi shoves you weakly with a whine but she starts, after a few seconds, laughing too.

'darling,' you say, relieved to see a real smile on her face, even if she's turned red in embarrassment, 'you're so hot. so unbelievably sexy.' you run your hand through her hair. 'even with this less-than-ideal mullet monstrosity you've chosen at the moment.'

she rolls her eyes. 'it's in right now.'

you shake your head, but it's all so fond, all so warm. you trace the strong line of her thigh, make a little swirl with your finger in the hair along her knee. 'these are so sexy.' you lean over to kiss her good shoulder, its broad expanse, and then tap along her bicep, not as lean as it used to be, but still defined and so, so strong. 'these too.' you touch her cheeks, slightly fuller, and kiss the freckles on her nose, which makes her smile. 'you know i love these.' and there's a layer of fat now, over what used to be the most intimidatingly shredded abs you'd ever seen; there's a line of defined muscle down vi's stomach still, but not the same as the eight pack that used to sit prominently. 'this might be my favorite part, though,' you tell her, and lay your hand there, run your thumb along the soft trail of hair that runs from below her boxers to her belly button.

'there's... there's no way.'

there's a million quips you could make, and you sense that this is going to take more therapy, more tough choices, more bad days, to really sort through. vi has always needed to be the strongest and fastest and fittest in the room; it's the way she survived, the way she made it out of what is truly a hell still alive. so instead, you just answer honestly: 'you're healthy.'

it seems to occur to her, all at once, that maybe that's true: she climbs better than she ever has, and she still sets new records at the fire department for strength and conditioning not infrequently; she's been sleeping through the night more often, and, during the good patches of time that stretch further and further without interruption, she tries all kinds of different foods with you, more adventurous than you'll ever be, and enjoys telling you her favorite parts. not for nothing, either, but she drinks enough actual water, not just protein shakes and a sip from a water fountain at the gym at the end of every session.

'i — i'm not used to it.'

she doesn't sound nearly as upset as before, mostly confused and a little curious. you play your knuckles against her ribs lightly, still pressing into her skin when she breathes, but not fully visible like before. 'this? or eating enough food without thinking about it?'

she laces her fingers with yours. 'i guess, both? i wasn't thinking a lot about it, but now i can't climb or lift and, well, i just. food was calories, and i wasn't burning as many, and then, well.' she sighs and meets your eyes. 'i'm still kind of confused, to be honest. there's a lot going on.'

'you've got time to figure it out,' you assure. 'and, according to your sister,' you hold up your phone and read off jinx's text, just ordered wings, sliders, jalapeño poppers, loaded fries, brussels sprouts, and a pitcher for everyone so pls finish up whatever u two are doing (no details!!!!) bc i am NOT paying for all that :) xoxo

vi laughs, deep and real this time, and brings her hand up to hold your jaw in her palm. 'thank you.'

'there's no need. you really are the hottest you've ever been.'

she blushes. 'still, cait. thank you.'

you nod; you'll accept it for now. she gets dressed in a relatively new pair of thick cotton barrel pants she loves, ones you’d shopped for together, and puts on a beanie just to humor you; you kiss her for it even when she rolls her eyes at your clear delight.

you meet your family — hers, at first, sure, but yours too, a collective — at the bar, and of course, you do pay, and jinx toasts to your black card, and you roll your eyes but you laugh too. your home team wins and vi's favorite player gets a triple-double and when you get home later, full and a little tipsy, you're careful of her shoulder but you still show her all the ways you think she's sexy, and wonderful, and hot as hell.

when you wake up the next morning, she's still sound asleep next to you, naked and absolutely gorgeous. you, allegedly, were supposed to meet jayce for a run, but you text him for a raincheck. instead, you curl into her strong, capable side, and decide to let you both rest a little longer.

[boypied]

our souls will become one

[soul tie] count orlok x male reader

summary: the third and final night has arrived, and count orlok has arrived at your bed chambers where you lay waiting for him, ready to submit to his commands.

wc: 1.5k

notes: MDNI, FDNI, creature [Vampire] smut, breeding, neck biting, blood sucking, rough sex, mention of blood.

You slowly open up your wooden carved wardrobe that holds all of your clothes, and you pull out your extremely long, loose-fitted nightshirt. You stand there, naked in your candle lit bedroom as you listen to your clock ticking getting closer and closer to the hour when Count Orlok will grace you with his presence on the third night just like he promised only two nights ago. You pull the nightshirt over your head, and you look down as it gracefully drops down to your ankles. You gently close the wardrobe door as you walk away from it, getting down on your knees in front of your large window where Orlok is likely to come through tonight. While you stay there waiting on your knees, feeling them go red against the hard wooden floor, you think about the fact you shouldn't have even bothered putting your nightshirt on when Count Orlok will likely be taking it off your body in a matter of minutes but you decide it's for the best as you want to show that you still respect yourself even though you'll be giving yourself to a nosferatu. You close your eyes, waiting to hear the sound or to feel his touch so that you know that the night has truly begun. Even though you know you should be repulsed by him, there's something that pulls you towards him, something that connects you both, both romantically and sexually. Your breath hitches slightly as you feel your window open up by itself, letting the cool breeze of the night in. You open your eyes to not see anything, but you notice Count Orlok's shadow present itself in your thin curtains. Your knees slowly take off the floor as your body extends to normal and your toes just about don't make the floor as you watch his figure appear right in front of your eyes, "Count Orlok" you mumble out underneath your breath.

Orlok pulls your hovering body over to him, your face inches away from his. He opens up his mouth, and his thick accent drops out. "You accept this of your own will?" He groans out in a slow way as he brings his hand up against your face as his nail caresses against your cheek all the way down to your chin as you gulp down. "I do." You say in a soft tone as you don't take your eyes off of his as your body trembles beneath his touch. The paralysing fear drips away as you feel a sense of comfort and security, "Then the convent is fulfilled," he says as a small smile grows upon his face as the realisation that he has won after all this time, "Your oath re-pledged." Orlok grunts out once more as his nail scrapes down your chin, and he gently pushes against your adam apple. "Yes." You mumble out in a quiet tone as his eyes widen and his smiles grow larger and creepier by the minute, "As our spirits are one...so too shall be our flesh." He grunts out, his accent growing thicker by the moment. "You. Are. Mine." He says as his skin stretches for the first time in a century to accommodate his fulfilled smile. A smile grows on your face as you realise all the visions and nightmares have led you to this moment, the time when you must submit yourself to Count Orlok....a Nosferatu. Your body stays in the air as Count Orlok steps down into your bedroom, and he walks round to your back, and he reaches up to tear away the button that is holding your nightshirt up, the moment that Orlok cut away the button holder your nightshirt dropped off your body and hit the floor with a soft sound. Count Orlok licks his lips as his eyes run all over your body, "impeccable." He grunts out as he walks around you in a circle admiring every inch and curve of your body. Orlok slowly begins to drop his clothes as your body floats over to your bed as you gracefully land down against the soft quilt, "Come to me" you call out to him in a haunting manner and he slowly walks over to you, his body coming out of the shadows being revealed to you. "Come to me," you repeat yourself.

Count Orlok's body glides across the floor over to the bed that you lay in. He climbs on top of you, Orlok's body presses down against you as you wrap your legs around his waist feeling his bare cock press against your warm hole, the hole that Count Orlok has been craving for a long time. Your asshole already slick wet for him. You made sure to prep beforehand as you watch his eyes fill with dark, lustful hunger. Orlok reaches down and lines his cock up with you hole gently pushing his thick tip into your ass and past your right muscle ring that is opening up for him, "n-ngh" you whimper in slight pain but is stripped away once his cock is entirely inside you. Your eyes flutter back as Count Orlok leans down and plunges his sharp fangs into your chest, right above your beating heart. He slurps up your blood as he slowly bucks his hips back and forth, causing you an immense amount of pleasure, "O-Orlok!" You groan out as with each thrust of his hips your cock bounces around, your hardness rubbing against his toned yet grotesquely seductive body. His cock twitching deep inside of you, Count Orlok doesn't stop sucking up your succulent tasting blood and he certainly doesn't slow down his thrusts as your moans grow louder and louder eagerly making him want to go faster. The cold breeze of the night flowing into your bed chambers as the curtains fly up, allowing more cool breeze in. Your eyes flutter back entirely as the feeling of his cock buried inside you continuously hits your sweet spot as well as his teeth sunken into your chest.

He continues to pound into you and suck up the blood from your beating heart, the heart that he had captured all those many years ago. He haunted your dreams and your life until he could finally get a chance to have you all for himself. Count Orlok's thrusts speed up, his thrusts at an ungodly speed causing your body to shake and convulse as you near an orgasm so intense. Count Orlok throws his head back as you watch how your own blood pours out of his mouth, his eyes immediately dart down to meet with yours, he leans back down to nibble at your earlobe as he opens up his blood filled mouth as he begins to speak. "Cum. For. Me." He groans out in your ear, in his thick sexy accent. Hearing those words was all you needed to bust a thick load all over your stomach. The orgasm causes your body to shake beneath him as you feel his thrusts become sloppy yet still quick as his centuries filled balls shoot a thick and large load out of his thick tip and into your velvet walls. "Our souls are becoming one." He mumbles out in a slow manner as he continues to pump into you, making sure to ride out his pleasureful experience as you feel your souls connect to each other.

Count Orlok collapses his body entirely onto yours as he slowly bucks his hips into you every so often, since this is a rare occasion his cock is hard. It is only hard for you. Orlok's face inches away from yours as he doesn't let his eyes look anywhere else only at your dowey eyes. You softly nibble down against your lower lip as you feel his hips slowly buck into your cum filled asshole, "mhm" you whimper out as you feel Orlok's cock get coated in his own cum as your walls squeeze around his thick member. "My perfect flower," he coos out in his slow voice as his long finger traces a sweaty piece of hair out of your face as he leans down to gently peck his lips against yours as your face reddens from a thick blush. "You. Are. Mine, " he grunts out as he pulls out of your asshole, watching how his vampire spunk drips out of your asshole and down. He climbs off the bed and pulls his long fur coat over his body to cover himself. He points his boney finger at you, causing your naked body to lift up off the bed and swiftly hover over to him. Count Orlok's body begins to hover off the ground to meet with yours, "good boy," he coos out as your head slowly turns to the side, and he plunges his teeth into the side of your neck. Your toes curl, feeling his teeth in another intimate place of your body, but you love the feeling, your eyes flutter back in pure bliss as you hear Count Orlok's quiet and desperate groans of pleasure as he drinks.

taglist ~ @starboye @mailmango @ghostking4m @kingchaospostsstuff @crispysoup318 @inhumanshadows @its-ares @gayaristocrat @cronasluvr @irlsamcarpenter @lucerothings1 @gaefaeyae @dqrkhold @sluttyhusband

[leighsartworks216]

Back on my Snowcrow bullshit

Just, Sylus fucking Zayne stupid

Our poor doctor is always on, always calculating, never giving his brain the proper break it needs. He's been going full-tilt since high school if not even earlier than that - he needs a chance to shut off

So Sylus first approaches this with a relaxing getaway. A breath of fresh air out in a lodge (ahem, one of his safe houses) wouldn't hurt. Plenty of sweets and non-medical books and beautiful hiking trails - just anything to get Zayne away from that damn bustling city

It works.... ish. The problem is that Zayne doesn't really have an off switch. This is relaxing, sure, but there's that last thread of tension and thought that keeps him from ever fully letting his guard down. If it was just for losing control of his Evol, he already knows Sylus heals quickly (and on some level enjoys the pain), but whatever it is is stuck in that amazing brain of his

Sylus asks if he can try something, and though he gives very litte info on what he wants to try, Zayne agrees. Sylus trails his fingers along Zayne's throat, chin, cheek, drawing him into a kiss. When he pulls away, breaths still mingling, Zayne quirks an eyebrow at him and says dryly, "You wanted to try kissing?"

Sylus smirks and quips that that's just the start of it

And just, book abandoned on the floor as Sylus presses Zayne back into the couch, kissing him like a man starved, caressing and holding him in all the right places. Savoring all the breathy little sounds he makes, especially as he trails his mouth along Zayne's throat. He gets scolded for biting him like he does - wide and deep, leaving lasting imprints behind - but he's seen the way Zayne traces the marks when he thinks he's not watching, committing them to memory

Zayne insists they should move this to the bed. Sylus can't help agreeing, loath as he is to get off of his partner. They're stumbling through the cabin, unable to keep their hands or mouths off of each other, undressing as they go. Sylus lifts Zayne to lay in the middle of the bed, and straddles him, because he knows how much he loves when he sits in his lap. Sylus holding his face in both hands, rolling his hips slightly against Zayne's, panting as he pulls away to look into the hazy, adoring eyes of his sweet doctor. Speaks between little kisses, some chaste and quick while others take a few seconds, "I want... to try... fucking every last thought... out of that damn head of yours..." If Zayne wasn't a blushing mess already...

Sylus takes his sweet, sweet time with him. The foreplay alone seems to last an hour, Zayne's body all marked up and eager for more

Cut to Zayne on his hands and knees, Sylus's hand around his throat keeping him from falling into the pillows, as Sylus slowly, torturously, thrusts into him. But it's only slow right now, because just a minute ago he'd set a pace so brutal, Zayne was close to finishing. Edged over and over again, to and from his orgasm, his body aching so much to finally release, it's the only thing on his mind. Choking pleas to let him cum in between hiccuping tears as he feels the pressure ebbing

Sylus kissing and biting and sucking marks all along his neck, shoulders and back. Free hand stroking teasingly over Zayne's stomach and chest, never where he needs him most. Frost has already started to form along the headboard, snowflakes drifting from the ceiling, cold drifting up Sylus's hands. That's really how he knows he's succeeded; when the ice turns against him. He uses the chill to tease Zayne's nipples, hard and red and surrounded with bite marks

"I'll let you cum this time," he promises against the shell of Zayne's ear. "You've earned it, my beloved, haven't you?" He speeds up, increasing back to the insane pace from before, while Zayne can only gasp out various yesses, barely aware of what he's agreeing to, just that Sylus has sped up again. Sylus wrapping his hand around Zayne's neglected cock, letting it fuck into his hand with each thrust. Zayne's holding onto the sheets so tight he thinks they might rip, all the more reason to keep going

Zayne finishing first in weeping moans that hitch and catch in the back of his throat, cum spilling into Sylus's hand and onto the bed beautifully. Sylus's hips stuttering before pressing himself as close to Zayne's as possible, burying himself as deep as he can go, pushing into him to hard Zayne has to fight not to be choked on his hand as he's pushed forward

Sylus is slow to pull out, and watches with pride as his cum dribbles out onto Zayne's thighs and over his balls. It's all Zayne can do to stay on his shaking knees. Carefully keeping him from falling over as he helps Zayne flip over onto his back next to the mess he made. Zayne's far gone, panting with his eyes closed and face twisted into the aftershocks of pleasure. Anything he could say now wouldn't register

The ice and frost start to recede as Sylus cleans Zayne off with a warm wet washcloth, thoroughly taking care of his partner. Conscious thought starts to come back while he's wiping the tears and drool off his face, hazy green eyes fluttering open to look up at him. Sylus can't help himself from presses little kisses to the corner of his mouth and his cheeks. Zayne tries saying something, but it's all slurred together and garbled - a first, no doubt. Sylus shushes him and tells him to just lay there for a bit

Once they're (mostly) cleaned up, Sylus lays beside Zayne (opposite the remaining mess on the bed) and cuddles him, holding him close and giving Zayne the time he needs. Once the ice and snowflakes are completely gone, and their breaths have regulated themselves, Sylus kisses his head and teasingly says, "I think I succeeded, don't you?"

This was not meant to be this long I swear

[mythicmanuscripts]

I want to overstimulate aegon !

You and me both anon!! You and me both.

I've definitely written about overstimulating Aegon before because I don't think it's possible to write NSFW Aegon without it. Thinking about how obvious it is that Aegon would love that made me think about how most of the castle would be at least a little aware that you dom Aegon and that without you doing that he turns into a little terror no one can handle.

So that's what you'll find below the cut! I hope that's alright with you anon. If you or anyone else wants a more in-depth response about overstim then feel free to request it again and just made sure to add some form of detail about it so that I'm not just rewriting my overstimulating thoughts again. Enjoy!

Before you came along Aegon was definitely known for being willing to fuck and get fucked by just about anyone. He could have single handedly kept king's Landing's brothels open.

Aegon liked you from the moment he met you. Even though it was an arranged marriage and done for political power, he would still much rather have married you than any of the other possible spouses he could have chosen from. You were the only one who seemed to have a sense of humour, the only one who could joke with him and clearly wasnt afraid of him. He loved that from your very first conversation with him.

Once you're married, you and him both know your duties. You and him are to produce a few heirs, enough that there will definitely be someone to take over the iron throne even with a few deaths and then after that you could both sleep with whoever you wanted and you hardly had to even see each other after that.

You were prepared to do that, but you had promised yourself that you would not take it laying down (literally). You refused to allow it to be 10 minutes of boring fucking where you just wait til he's finished and then he leaves. Absolutely not. You were going to get some enjoyment out of this.

Aegon also expects for it to be like that, until you walk into your new shared chambers and push him up against the wall. And well... he is most certainly not complaining. You expect some resistance from him but nothing even close to that happens. You take control and he just becomes to pliant?

You have absolutely no idea where the man you had heard so many bad things about was. You had heard so much about his selfishness and desire and how rough he would make it, but you see absolutely none of that. From the moment you had him against the wall he was yours to play with.

You swear he was made for this purpose. There's no other explanation for it. He begs so quickly and so easily, wanting so badly to be good for you.

So of course you have your fun, and you very quickly discover how pretty he looks when he cries after his third orgasm. Poor little thing can't even get his legs to stop shaking.

And when you finished and you got into bed to let him cuddle into you? Well now you're it for him. He got completely wrecked AND he also got cuddles? Yeah no one else will ever be accepted again.

The entire castle is in shock for the next few weeks because Aegon doesn't leave for a brothel once? In fact he sent letters to three brothels informing them that he would no longer need his weekly booked room.

Things start to make a little more sense when they start to see you two together more often. Aegon looks at you like you hung the moon and all the stars. He's always holding your hand, always looking for you, always making sure there's space beside him for you.

It's very clear that you have a grounding effect on him, but what people don't know is how much of that effect comes from you absolutely wrecking him at least once a week.

You always know you've got to make time for that soon when he starts to get even whinier than usual (yes, it's actually possible) and he may genuinely cry if you have to go somewhere alone. Even when he is with you he's alls squirmy and unsettled, constantly moving around and snapping at anyone else who tries to get his attention.

You sort that out by getting an evening free of obligations and taking control the moment you're alone with him. Aegon needs to be pushed to his limits, needs to cum so many times he can barely even think never mind string a sentence together.

(You always start by letting him get you off, because you've learnt the hard way that if he realises at the end of a scene that you havent cum he will go straight into subdrop and feel like a failure.)

After that his favourite is when you sit next to him and drape his leg over your thigh to get full access. He whines and cries against your shoulder, mumbling broken pleas and cumming all over your hand every time you tell him to. He always cleans it up though!!! He'll lick your hand hand clean and then if you don't move your arm quick enough he will take your fingers into your mouth and then you're in trouble because if you pull away without giving him something else to suck on then he will just start crying. Poor thing is too fucked out you must help him!!

You spend the entire night and most of the next morning in bed with him after that. When he does emerge he's always in a much, much better mood and actually does all the things he's supposed to do.